#and Jason Todd sometimes but that harder to find

[julymusings]

I'M WORKING LATE !

jason's too stressed, and too exhausted. luckily, you have a few ways of getting him to relax. rated 18+, mdni contains: jason todd x reader; grinding, handjob, blowjob, reader's hair is long enough 4 a ponytail

He hasn't looked up from his file in two hours.

Jason did this sometimes, got so engrossed in a case that everyone and everything else took a backseat. You learned early on that he doesn't like to be bothered when he gets in this headspace, getting used to tuning him out and going about your own tasks (aside from the occasional kiss atop his head or brush of your palm across his back, something he could never complain about), but you think if he stares at his papers any harder, he'll go cross-eyed.

He sat down to work two hours ago, around the same time you started making dinner. Not wanting to disturb him, the two of you worked around each other in a comfortable silence, him typing away at his laptop while sifting through papers, and you cutting vegetables and boiling noodles. In the one hour it took to prepare the meal and bring two steaming bowls of pasta to the table, he hadn't looked up once. You set his bowl in front of him, but you're not sure he even noticed.

In the hour following, you finished your meal, cleaned up the kitchen, took a shower, changed into pajamas, and packed up his untouched bowl of pasta for later, all before settling in on the couch to put on headphones and queue up your show on your computer.

Now, you watch him from your spot on the couch as he sits at the dining table, body tense and still as a statue, save for the occasional flick through the pages of his file, or a scribble of notes on his notepad. Seeing him ultra-focused was nothing new, but there's something about this night that has you concerned. The bags under his eyes are heavier than usual, his lips are chapped and raw from being chewed on, his reading glasses are askew on his face, and his hair is messy, odd ends sticking out from how often he drags his hand through it.

It's when his neck turns slightly to look at the notepad at his side and you hear the minute clicking noise followed by a quiet wince that you know you have to intervene.

From experience, you know this is something you have to go about subtly. At your harping, he's been getting better about prioritizing himself and his wellbeing over work, but he still shows some defensiveness when someone suggests he take a break. He won't admit it, but you know he feels guilty about taking time to relax when there are people who need his help.

You approach him slowly from behind, dragging your feet on the hardwood floor, a gentle alert to your nearing. Your fingers softly brush over his back, sliding up across his shoulder blades until your hands rest on his shoulders. He doesn't react.

You squeeze your hands lightly, feeling the tight knots in his muscles, and his shoulders relax a few centimeters. You repeat this motion, slowly massaging from his shoulders to his neck. He releases a heavy exhale when your thumbs press against the sides of his neck, making circular motions to ease the tension. You lean lower to brush light kisses over the spots you press into, and finally, his head lifts. He leans back, head falling over the neck of his chair to look up at you as his hands reach back to rest over your forearms. He wears a tired smile, and you drop your head to close the remaining space between you, brushing your lips over his. They feel rough from the consistent dragging against his teeth while he was deep in concentration, but nonetheless remain warm and inviting for you to press kisses to.

"Hi," Jason whispers against your lips, his voice scratchy from its hours unused.

"Hey," you breathe. Your lips travel up his face, kissing up his nose and to his forehead, each spot relaxing a little more as you kiss it.

Your fingers continue their pressure around his neck and he groans softly when you press into that perfect spot, finding the largest knot. You want to bottle the sound, save it to listen to on a loop for hours.

"Can you finish up for the night?" You whisper the words behind his ear, following up with another kiss brushed across the skin.

"I'm so close to the end, baby," he speaks softly, his breath warm on the side of your face. "I can feel it. I just need a little more time."

Your hands trail back down to his shoulders, pressing harder. "You've been stuck for forever. You need a break."

"Baby..." He sighs when your kisses move down his neck.

"Please?"

He leans forward, pushing away from your touch to look back at the work in front of him, but you persist, moving around to climb in his lap. Your legs straddle over his hips, arms circling around his neck. On instinct, his hands settle on your thighs, and squeeze.

"Please, Jay?" You whine, prodding your nose against his. "You're working so hard, honey." You drag your lips underneath his jaw. "You're so tense. Let me help you relax."

He sighs again, his hands sliding up to grip your waist, hips shifting forward to nudge against yours, and you know you've got him.

"I can't say no to you, can I?" Jason concedes, and you grin.

"No, you can't."

You kiss him eagerly, humming against his lips when he reciprocates. It starts off innocent, as slow and sweet kisses, before quickly devolving into something more harried, your heated breaths mingling through exchanged keens and moans. When Jason pulls back to remove his glasses and toss them on the table behind you, you mouth along his neck, sucking and biting and licking at the skin. At the same time, your hips rock against his, and his hold on your waist tightens. You muffle his moan when your mouth finds his again, hands sliding into his ruffled hair to grab ahold of the strands and pull. His mouth falls open slightly, and you take the opportunity to slip your tongue past his lips.

He's so lost in the feeling of your movement against him and your hands in his hair, Jason doesn't register the hand that slides down to his belt buckle until his jeans are unzipped and your hand has slipped inside to grip his half-hard cock through his boxers.

"Fuck," he groans, his head falling back as you palm him. With his throat on display, you latch onto the spot just below his Adam's apple. After a few moments, he pulls himself together enough to say, "Was this your plan?" He pushes his hips out to grind against your hand, his erection growing harder. "Seduce me into taking a break?"

Satisfied with the mark you've left on the column of his throat, you pull back to look at him. You tug at the band of his boxers, pulling them down marginally to slip your hand inside and pull his dick out. Your knuckles brush against his balls and his hips jump, releasing a small gasp from him. You tease him with slow, light strokes up and down his length. Your thumb brushes over the beads of precum on his tip, and a high-pitched moan falls from his open mouth. His gaze on you is something out of a renaissance painting, all rosy cheeks and devoted eyes.

"I don't know what you mean," you say, though the tail-end of your statement is cut off by Jason taking your face in his hand and bringing your lips back to his.

His other hand tries to creep under the waistband of your sleep shorts, but you stop him with a grab on his wrist. It elicits a needy whine from the back of his throat, both at your depriving him of touching you, and the loss of your touch on him.

"Sorry, baby." You push yourself off him, your heart skipping a beat at the broken noises he makes in protest. "But I said I'd help you relax."

You can see the change in his eyes when you drop to your knees in front of him, his enlarged pupils encroaching further on the teal of his irises until they're just thin rings of blue and green around black.

"Can I?" Your voice is hushed and timid, almost self-conscious at the submission you're offering.

He whispers your name, quiet and hungry as he looks down on you. You run your hands over his thighs and he moves to sit on the edge of his seat, spreading his legs further apart so you can fit comfortably between them. His hands, which grip the sides of his chair, are taken in yours and guided to your hair. One holds your hair back, and the other cups your jaw, his thumb brushing soothing strokes on your cheek as you take his cock in your hand once more. You stroke at the base while dipping your head down to wrap your mouth around his tip.

Jason is big, and no matter how many times you take him, there's always a moment needed to adjust. Slowly, your mouth works past the tip, each bob of your head taking a little more of him while your hand jerks him off where your mouth can't reach. His breathing grows heavier the deeper you take him, the muscles of his abdomen tensing and contracting with the effort it takes to not immediately cum at the sight of you sucking him off.

"Fuck, that's— baby, oh my— fuck!" His low, baritone moaning mixes with the sloppy sounds your mouth makes. His whole body squirms as he fights the urge to just stand up and roughly fuck your throat until he comes. "You're so fucking good to me," he groans.

The hand on your jaw brushes away the tears that form as you gag from taking him as deep as you can. The hand holding your hair tightens its grip, softly yanking the strands and you moan; Jason feels the vibration in his cock and whimpers, his own tears gathering in the corners of his eyes.

"Baby, I'm so—" He cuts himself off with a loud, animalistic moan when you swirl your tongue around the head of his dick, followed by a flick of your tongue against the tip before taking him in deep once again. Your tongue drags against the vein under his head and he comes in your mouth, the hot spurts gushing onto your tongue as he shallowly thrusts himself through his orgasm.

When he's done, hands fallen to his sides, slumped back in his seat and panting heavily, you slide your mouth off him and hold it open for him to see what he left.

"Swallow it." His voice is low and gravelly.

You listen.

"That's my girl," he breathes.

He helps you to your feet and wipes your wet cheeks with the back of his hand before pulling you in for a kiss.

"My girl," he whispers again. His eyes sweep over you with reverence, and it's your turn to cradle his cheeks in your palms and brush away the hints of moisture.

"Are you done working?" You ask quietly. Hopefully.

He leans his forehead against yours. "I still have to—"

You give him a long sigh, to which he playfully rolls his eyes.

"I guess I'll just go to bed! All alone!" You exclaim dramatically, stalking away from him with exaggerated steps.

"I'll be there in a minute," Jason laughs, calling after you.

"You better," you tease. When you know he's looking, you lift the hem of your shirt and pull it off, throwing it aside and turning away. It has barely left your hand when you hear his chair scraping against the floor and you break into a run towards your bedroom.

You don't get very far, however, before he catches you. You squeal when he grabs you by the waist and throws you over his shoulder, both of you full of giggles as he carries you to your room.

cause i'm a singer....

so this is my first time writing smut why am i highkey nervous abt it this was supposed to be under a thousand words but girl....i'm still classifying it a mini fic tho not a regular fic bc i FEEL LIKE IT & let it be known i am a jason crying during sex TRUTHER

and um why was i fighting for my life trying to describe their positions in the beginning when he was sitting in the chair and reader was standing behind him. i still fear it's not clear so i drew it. hope this helps

[iydiamartinx]

GOD SAVE THE PROM QUEEN II

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

divider by: @cafekitsune & @omi-resources word count: 2.6k synopsis: Crowned prom queen, she waits for Jason Todd—never knowing he died that night, betrayed by the mother he hoped would love him. a/n: Still angsty but happy-ish ending!

Jason didn’t come here often.

He told himself there was no point. No use in standing over old stones and pretending it meant something. The dead didn’t care for flowers. And he was never very good at pretending.

But sometimes—on quiet, grey evenings when Gotham’s skyline blurred into a jagged scar against the clouds—he found himself here anyway. Standing still. Hands buried in his pockets. Breathing in the damp, earthy petrichor scent of graveyard.

The wind always smelled like rain here, even when the sky held back. Like the world was trying to weep for him, but couldn’t quite bring itself to shed the tears.

It was peaceful, in its own bleak way.

Silent in the way only graveyards could be.

And yet, no matter how long he stood there, staring down at polished stone and his own name carved deep into the granite, he never felt like he belonged on either side of that grave.

Jason Peter Todd.

Beloved son.

Gone too soon.

He scoffed under his breath. The sound was rough. Bitter.

Bullshit.

He was neither beloved nor gone.

What stood here now was just what was left behind of the boy he’d once been. Not alive. Not dead. Just… stuck. Practically, a ghost with blood in his veins. 

And yet, here he stood again—staring at the marble that tried to summarize a life in three hollow lines. A stone that meant to mark an end, but never came close to telling the story.

But today… today was different.

There was a bouquet already there. 

Fresh. Still wet with morning dew. Peonies, lavender, and black calla lilies—the exact mix he used to see you draw in the margins of your notebooks.

Jason’s breath caught as he knelt down beside them, knees pressing into the wet earth. He reached for the bouquet with a kind of reverence, fingers brushing over the stems before finding the folded note tucked between them.

Still miss you, you pain in the ass.

– Always, Y/N.

And just like that, the air left his lungs.

He didn’t need to see the signature. He knew that handwriting better than his own. The looping curve of your Y. The confident, slanted cross of your T. He’d watched you scrawl it on the back of his hand a hundred times during lectures—hearts when you were happy, flowers when you were feeling soft, and sarcastic jabs when he annoyed you.

You still came.

After everything.

After all this time.

After how he heard how he hurt you.

It hit him harder than the crowbar ever had.

From his place by the grave, half-hidden by shadows and trees, he saw you.

You were walking toward the exit now—coat cinched tight against the late-autumn wind, hair pulled back, shoulders squared the way they always were when you were trying not to feel too much. Your heels clicked lightly on the path, a steady rhythm against the hush of damp leaves and distant city hum.

You looked older. More refined. Sharper around the edges. Like time had carved you into something tougher.

But you were still you.

He could see it in the way you paused before leaving, glancing back at the headstone like it still had the power to hurt you. Like you hadn’t made peace with it—even after all these years.

And in that moment, something inside him began to shift.

You were no longer the girl with the silver crown and crushed corsage.

That girl had died the same night Jason Todd did.

Now you were the woman people called terrifying behind closed doors. The one whose heels echoed through Wayne Tower like a woman on a mission. Bruce Wayne’s right hand, the assistant no one dared to cross. Sharp-eyed. Ice-voiced. Efficient didn’t even begin to cover you. Ruthless might have been closer.

No one handed you crowns anymore. They handed you problems—and you solved them.

“Three board members in the conference room. Two more on video. Coffee’s on the table—black, extra shot, because I know how this morning will start.” You placed the folder in front of Bruce with a flick of your wrist, barely pausing. “Your notes are inside. Don’t ad-lib. Shaw’s already looking for excuses to delay the merger.”

Bruce gave you a long look over the top of his glasses. He didn’t say thank you. He never did. But then, he didn’t need to. You were his best weapon behind the scenes, and you both knew it. There was a reason why the employee called you the Ice Queen, and were more scared of you than they were of Bruce Wayne himself.

You left the room before the door even fully shut behind you.

Later that afternoon, you were back at your desk—one heel slipped loose beneath you, phone cradled between your shoulder and ear—you barely looked up from your screen.

“I’m not moving the board meeting again because Shaw’s having a midlife crisis,” you snapped, scrolling through the projected quarterly. “He’s had three decades to prepare for his hairline receding, and that is not a justifiable excuse to stall the merger—”

A sharp knock on your desk broke your concentration.

Your eye twitched.

You let out a long, irritated sigh. “The final answer is no. Now I need to go.”

You hung up without waiting for a response and finally turned your attention to the source of the interruption, expecting yet another intern who couldn’t read a calendar.

But it wasn’t an intern.

He leaned just slightly on the edge of your desk—not enough to be disrespectful, but enough to suggest he didn’t mind waiting. He wore a leather jacket that had clearly seen better days, paired with worn boots and dark hair tousled by wind and time. A streak of white cut through the strands near his temple—unmistakable, and in need of a trim.

He didn’t look like he belonged in Wayne Tower.

And he sure as hell didn’t look like he was here for a scheduled meeting.

Your eyes narrowed, every instinct flaring to attention. Something about him caught at the edge of your memory—frayed the edge of something you’d tucked away years ago.

He tilted his head, gaze moving over you in a slow, thoughtful sweep. Not lecherous. Not even flirtatious. Just… observant.

Still, your expression didn’t budge. You raised a brow, tone clipped and dry.

“Can I help you?”

He blinked, like shaking off a thought. “Maybe. Not sure yet.”

Your jaw tightened. Cryptic wasn’t a language you spoke anymore. Truth be told, you didn’t have the patience for much these days. Somewhere along the way, you’d adopted Jason’s no-bullshit approach to life—only without the charm and biting humor that had once softened his edges.

“Is there a reason you’re at this desk, or are you just in the mood to get escorted out?”

That almost made him smile. Almost.

“I was just looking around,” he said simply. “Place has changed a lot.”

You didn’t answer, still sizing him up.

He glanced around the room, then back to you. “Didn’t expect the assistant to be running the tower.”

You leaned back slightly in your chair, arms crossing. “You’re not the first person to make that mistake. Most of them don’t last long.”

That earned you a small nod. Respectful. Not mocking.

Then his eyes met yours again.

And this time, he looked. Not at the expensive cut of your suit, not at the stack of color-coded schedules or the headset you’d tossed onto the keyboard. And for a second, something in his expression flickered. A flash of something soft. Grieving. Nostalgic.

But it passed.

“You got a name?” you asked, tone even but no longer impersonal.

He hesitated. Just long enough to make you notice.

“Jay,” he finally said.

You nodded once, pushing down the strange knot in your chest. You tried to ignore how that reminded you of another who’s long dead. 

“Well, Jay,” you said, gesturing with your pen, “unless you’ve got a meeting or an appointment, you’re done looking around.”

“I figured.” He straightened a little, not pushing back. “Just curious. That’s all.”

He turned, stepping away with a nod.

You watched him go. And long after he was gone, that strange, electric prickle stayed curled at the base of your spine.

You didn’t know it yet.

But the boy you buried four years ago had just walked back into your life.

He left without pushing.

No clever remark. No lingering glance. Just a quiet nod and the soft, fading sound of worn boots tapping over marble tile.

But hours later—long after the last intern had clocked out, after the boardroom lights had dimmed, and the final elevator chimed shut—you were still thinking about him.

Jay.

You didn’t know what unsettled you more—his calm, unassuming presence, or the way his face lingered in your mind like a half-finished memory. Familiar, but off. Like an old photograph left too long in the sun, its edges faded, the details too blurred to fully get a good look.

You tried to forget it.

You had bigger problems to handle than cryptic strangers in weathered leather. Tower politics. Corporate vultures. Logistics. Mergers. Deadlines.

But three days later, he was there again.

In the east corridor outside Bruce’s office, half-shadowed beneath the soft white light of the hanging fixtures. Talking in low tones with Alfred—Alfred, of all people.

You’d only caught the tail end of it as you turned the corner. Alfred’s voice, warm and measured. And Jay’s… quieter than before. Almost cautious.

Your steps slowed. Not by much. Just enough to get another look at him.

Alfred glanced your way first, ever perceptive. He gave you that small, knowing nod he always did—acknowledging everything without needing to say a word.

And Jay only turned away, as if he hadn’t meant to be seen.

But before he gave you his back, your eyes met for the briefest second.

And something in his expression faltered. Hesitation. Maybe even regret.

Then he turned and slipped away.

No words exchanged. No excuses made. No cryptic remarks. But everything about this situation felt off to you, like you were missing an important detail.

You didn’t call after him.

Didn’t confront Alfred.

But the thread tugged.

Subtle. Persistent.

The kind of thread, you didn’t let go of until you unravelled it.

You didn’t mean to go looking.

You told yourself it was just cleaning. Just a lazy Sunday and a little long-overdue organization.

But your fingers hesitated when they brushed the edge of an old box at the back of your closet. One you hadn’t opened in years. Not since you moved into this apartment. Not since before you learned how to build your armor from pressed suits and five a.m. coffee.

The lid creaked.

Inside were fragments of a girl you no longer let yourself remember—

Notes passed under desks.

A half-finished journal.

A dried corsage, fragile and browned at the edges, still curled around a faded ribbon.

And tucked beneath it all… was the photo.

Worn. Creased. The corners soft with time.

Jason Todd. Sixteen. Captured in front of the Gotham Academy library, hoodie unzipped halfway, hair wild from the wind. One hand in his pocket. The other flipping off the camera with that shit-eating grin that had made you laugh even as you rolled your eyes.

Your stomach twisted.

You sat down, slowly, the box on your lap, the apartment suddenly too quiet.

Your eyes stayed on the photo. Then drifted to the memory behind it—the sound of his voice, the warmth of his hand brushing yours as he walked you to class, the way he’d rest his head back and smirk when he caught you staring.

And then…

That face.

That same smirk.

The man in the lobby.

The one with the jacket.

The one who called himself Jay.

No.

No, it couldn’t be.

He was dead.

He was dead.

But your chest was tightening, your pulse loud in your ears.

Because it was.

It was him.

Older and harder but still him.

The boy they buried four years ago.

He wasn’t a memory anymore.

Jason.

Your Jason.

You didn’t knock.

You stormed into the East Wing guest suite at Wayne Manor where you figured out he was staying, bypassing Alfred and Bruce and the rest of the kids with a glare that could level buildings. No one stopped you.

Jason opened the door expecting someone else—Tim, maybe. Or Dick. One of the people he was still learning how to be around again. He hadn’t prepared for you.

You slapped him.

Hard.

The sound cracked through the hallway like a gunshot.

“You son of a bitch,” you hissed, eyes already glassed with unshed tears. “You let me think you were dead. For four goddamn years.”

Jason didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t flinch.

“I was dead.”

“Don’t you dare,” you snapped. “Don’t you dare use that like an excuse when you’re clearly here.”

You shoved him hard, hands balled into fists against his chest. He didn’t move to stop you.

“I buried you,” you choked out, the words scraping past the lump in your throat. “I visited your grave. I cried over you, Jason. I—” your voice cracked, “I loved you. Do you have any idea what that did to me? What it took to keep going after that?”

His expression didn’t shift, but his voice came quieter, rawer.

“I didn’t know how to come back into your life.”

You laughed—sharp and broken. “But you came back for him, didn’t you?” you snapped. “For Bruce. For the rest of the family. You came back for all of them—just not for me.”

His eyes flinched at that.

“I watched you,” he admitted. “At the grave. The first time I saw you again, you looked… different. Stronger. Harder. Like you didn’t need me anymore.” He swallowed, gaze dropping briefly before finding yours again. “And I—I’m not the same. I’m not who I was. I’m broken, and you… you don’t need someone like me in your life.”

You shoved him again. Fiercer this time. “That’s not your call to make,” you hissed. “You think I cared? I didn’t care then, and I sure as hell don’t care now.”

“I know,” he said, softer. “You were always too good for me.”

Tears slipped down your cheeks, silent and relentless. Years of grief and fury pouring out in streaks you couldn’t stop.

Jason stepped toward you, slow and careful, like a man afraid that one wrong move might send you running.

“I wanted to come back,” he whispered. “A thousand times. But I was angry. And lost. I thought I lost you the second that bomb went off. I didn’t know who I was when I woke up. I didn’t know what was left of my old life—if there was anything left to come back to.”

You shook your head, tears streaking silently down your cheeks. “You were mine. That’s who you were. Just like I was yours.”

The silence that followed stretched between you, thick with everything unsaid. Years of grief. Of longing. Of questions that never got to be asked—let alone answered.

Then—tentatively, like he wasn’t sure he still had the right—Jason reached for your hand.

You let him.

And when he pulled you into his arms, you didn’t resist.

You just sank into him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into your hair. “For the crown. For the dance. For everything I never got to give you.”

“I don’t care about that stupid dance,” you whispered. “I just wanted you.”

His arms tightened around you like he was afraid you might slip away. Like he needed the contact to believe this was real.

And for the first time in four long, fractured years, you let yourself breathe.

Not like someone surviving. Not like someone holding their grief together by sheer force of will.

But like someone who had finally, finally reunited with the other half of their soul.

← Previous Chapter

Tag list: @swagangelllamawolf, @lou-diaries, @salvatt1

[delusionsofgrandeur13]

shameless

minors. dni.

your roommate, biker!JASON TODD, still hasn’t taken his helmet off.

readers can expect: a helmet wearing jason todd x fem!reader in an undefined relationship. reader in a dress and makeup. use of nicknames like “baby” and “sunshine.” implied consent but not explicitly stated. thigh riding and some dirty talk. minor, minor amounts of fingering.

he’d just gotten home from a ride, the same time you’d gotten back from shopping. you always did the same thing after, so he’d settled himself into a chair to give you and your new clothes an audience. but the mirrored panel he’s watching you through doesn’t give you the same privilege.

you can’t see his eyes, can’t tell if he likes the clothes or not.

he’s been silent the whole time, too. if you didn’t know him better, you’d worry he was mad at you. but you know him well. sometimes you think better than he knows himself. jason just doesn’t talk if he feels like he doesn't need to..or if he’s extremely distracted.

he’s leaning back in the chair, his arms crossed. the motion is making his forearms bulge. the fabric of his flannel straining, already rolled up to his elbows.

your brain is light and fluttery at the idea of his arms holding you close. his hips meeting yours with each thrust. his helmet on.

you’re itching for him to touch you. itching.

you twirl in the new black dress you got, hoping to catch a reaction of some sort.

he tightens his grip on his bicep. shifts in his seat, spreading his legs wider. the fabric around his crotch is definitely more taut than it was when you started.

but he says nothing.

you practically gulp, turning around to go put on the last thing you got.

you come back out in a new red dress. the ruching up the sides pulls the fabric tight against your skin. it ends mid thigh, but you might’ve hiked it up a little higher. might’ve reapplied your lipstick before coming back out. tousled your hair a little bit. who’s to say?

you come a little closer this time, spinning again. you stop, propping a hand onto your hip.

“what do you think?” you turn to the side.

his head tilts. he says nothing.

“okay, well, this was the last thing.” you turn, starting down the hallway.

jason mumbles, the words lost into his helmet. you stop in your tracks. spin back around.

“hm?” you step closer. “did you say something?”

the bulge in jason’s pants is too obvious to ignore now. he shakes his head, beckoning to you, patting his leg.

you have to hold yourself back from practically running to him.

you sit yourself down on a thigh, his hand immediately finding the curve of your ass. electricity runs up your spine. his other hand settles on your upper thigh, slowly inching closer to the junction of your legs. warmth unfurls in your belly at the sensation of the leather of his glove on your bare skin. you lean in, throwing your arms around his neck.

still nothing.

you’re looking at yourself in the mirror covering his eyes. it irks you. you want to see his eyes, the dark slashes of his eyebrows. the corner of your mouth rises as you bring your face in, and plant a lipsticked kiss on the plastic of his visor. jason pinches your waist. his cock twitches behind the thick fabric of his pants. he’s grateful he has his helmet on. it’s hiding his rapidly reddening cheeks.

he recovers, flipping up his tagged visor. just to make a show of rolling his eyes at you. his grip on your thigh tightens as you study the sliver of his face he’s letting you see. a tuft of hair covers his forehead, his telltale white streak cutting through the darker hair, into his right eyebrow.

he looks at you through half-lidded, deep blue eyes, his eyebrows furrowed.

you smile at him, batting your lashes. the itch grows stronger.

he rolls his eyes, again.

“feelin’ feisty today, huh, sunshine?”

you nod, humming in agreement. jason tightens his arms around you, bringing you closer. his eyes narrow, the look in them making the heartbeat between your thighs pound harder. you squeeze your legs together. jason glances down, then scoffs, shaking his head.

“you’re shameless.” he decides.

you nod again, blushing a little as you concede.

he adjusts you, grabbing at the fabric around your hips, pulling it up until it’s bunched around your waist. he pauses when he sees the lace of your underwear covering your sex, his own heart pounding in his ears. he fights the urge to clear his throat, a nervous tic he has that you’d pick up on immediately. he can’t fuck this up. he’s been desperate to touch you since the last time you let him, done nothing but think about the pretty little sounds you’d made. he’s gotta play this just right.

“were these really necessary?” he hooks a finger on the waistband, raising his eyebrow. a giggle bubbles out of your throat as you stand up.

“..my underwear? yeah, i’d say they might be.” it’s your turn to roll your eyes, and you do, before pulling off them off.

jason grabs them from you, wrapping the lacy fabric around his wrist like a bracelet. at your shocked face, he shrugs.

“just for safekeeping, sunshine. i’d say don’t get your panties inna twist about it, but ‘s a little late for that.”

he looks up at you in his helmet, and even though the lower half of his face is covered, you can practically see the cocky smile he’s wearing. you set yourself back onto his leg, straddling his thick thigh. the rough fabric of his riding pants meets the smooth skin of your inner thigh, a wet spot already forming.

“well? show me how bad you want it.” he settles back.

you brace your hands on his shoulders while he folds his own gloved hands on his stomach.

you move your hips, starting a delicious rhythm. the friction makes you moan, feels so good you don’t even realize you’re making a sound. you rock yourself back and forth, back and forth. the movement jostling your tits.

jason’s eyes flicker down, his eyebrows raising. a low groan emanates from his throat. the sound takes you to another level. he reaches up, pulling the front of your dress down. his eyes flare in response, breaking his tense posture to reach up with a gloved hand and palm one.

the worn in leather on the delicate skin of your chest feels like heaven. he pinches a nipple, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. the combined stimulation drives you to move your hips faster, gripping your fingers into the sturdy angles of his shoulders.

your hands on him has his cock aching, no doubt leaking pre all over the front of his underwear. he can’t believe what you’re able to do to him without even trying.

“that’s right, baby.” he takes in how your face changes, pleasure so acute it’s unmistakable on your features.

“use me, just like that.”

you pick up the pace just a little, your toes curling as his eyebrows raise and he nods his encouragement. his big hands sink into the flesh of your tits, kneading them as you move.

“that’s right, you’re so close, keep going—”

it builds up, and up, and up, the waves cresting as your thighs clench around his, your back arches, you throw your head back. jason is humming is approval deep in his throat. he swipes your clit a few times with his leather-clad thumb, drawing out your orgasm, making your thighs tremble.

“needed that bad, huh?”

your face grows hot, and you flip his visor down.

he pushes it up again, rolling his eyes at you as the corners of them crinkle with what you can guess is a smile. jason caresses your thigh with his hand as you slump into his chest. your breathing matches his, and he brushes your hair out of your face.

“i like this dress.”

[harbours-lighthouse]

𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐀𝐍

— part two

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 — Jason Todd x F!Reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 — You have an argument with Jason Todd and things don't go your way. There's something slipping out of your fingers, and it might just be him.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: angst :)) possible fluff for a possible pt.ii?

Your feet ache, ankles throbbing in pain with each step you take. You’ve lost count of all the street signs you’ve passed, the chipped white lettering barely giving you an inkling of where you are anyway. All you know is that there’s something clawing inside of your chest, and the alleyways are slowly darkening. Graffiti streaks across red brick walls. Trash flutters out from parked cars.

I don’t need your help! 

Jason’s words echo, ringing inside your head like a bell. Your temples feel tense, as if bracing for each thunderous shout of those simple words. A lump forms like a sharp pebble in your throat.

“Okay, Jason,” you whisper, choking on the small utterance like it might cleave you in half. You didn’t get to tell him that—didn’t get to say anything at all. The door had slammed shut behind you once he’d said enough, and you hadn’t bothered to wait and see if he’d come racing after you.

He’s never shouted at you before—the most heated your arguments get is a little bit of bite in your tone, but never your voices raising to shake the frame of your psyche. 

I don’t need you. 

He’d said that in a much quieter voice—something muttered beneath his breath like an afterthought. You heard that and knew you wouldn’t be able to say anymore without breaking down, and that was the last thing you wanted to do. You wouldn’t let him see you like that. You could barely afford to see yourself in such a state. It was demeaning—overwhelming, too. 

A shout skewers through your haze of grief-stricken thoughts, and you glance away from your shoes to scan the street. Long shadows stretch across the cracked asphalt as street lamps tower over you like sentinels, bathing a group of teenage boys in sickly yellow light. They skip and prance like zealous predators, voices dipped in the usual ‘bad boy’ drawl, shouting or laughing at jokes you weren’t privy to. Clouds of smoke puffed from many of them, cigarettes tucked between two fingers like modern weapons. 

You usually wouldn’t be too bothered if it was one or two, but you could count five easily, and felt caution settle in your stomach like lead.

Smoothly turning into an alleyway littered with overflowing dumpsters and leftover cardboard boxes, you cut through two buildings to reach the next street. The teenagers fade into the background, leaving you behind. Sucking in a breath, you find that your chest is trembling.

“It’s fine,” you say to yourself, breathing out. 

That’s all I am! Okay? I’m fine. I don’t need you constantly pestering me about it. 

All you’d been was worried. Afraid, even. He’d been coming over less, and you’d sleep through the night without any interruptions. No living room window sliding open, or boots thudding softly onto the ground. At first, Jason left behind notes on the fire escape, taping the yellow square of paper to the metal bars for you to find when you opened the window for the sharp morning air. 

They were cute, with handwriting that was overly neat. 

Got caught up with something — wanted to let you sleep. Love you.

Though there was the dull ache of disappointment, it made you smile, imagining him taking the time out of his night (early morning) to do that for you. Him, sleepy from work, leaning against the fire escape while he scribbled the note down, before taping it down for you—that was more than what most men are ever willing to do.

But the notes changed, getting shorter in length. Sometimes you gripped the wind-bent paper and felt that he’d done it out of obligation, rather than consideration. It opened up a chasm in your chest, one where your worries began to fall into, slowly taking up space. It made breathing hard, and your days even harder. Then, the notes stopped entirely.

You went a whole month without hearing anything from him, and tonight was the first night that he finally showed up. No note, but his face cast in moonlight as he rapped on the frame of your window,  waiting with shifting feet. 

You weren’t expecting the hot feeling inside your chest. A molten ache of loneliness that made itself present when he climbed into your apartment, flashing a white grin that would usually have your knees weak. No, you were surprised when tears already burned at the back of your eyes, though you refused to let them fall. 

“Hey, doll,” Jason murmured, stepping towards you to wrap an arm around your neck, pulling your face into him. Gunpowder and leather overwhelmed your senses, and the usual warmth pouring out from him felt suffocating. You wrapped your arms around his waist, but you couldn’t bring yourself to hold on tight. 

Jason pressed his lips to your scalp. “How ‘ave you been?” 

“Fine,” you answered quietly, grateful that you could hide your face from him. You knew that what you were saying silently would be obvious in the way your brows were bunched together, and how you were chewing on the inside of your cheek. 

“Jus’ fine?” 

“Yeah—I was actually making dinner.” 

“Ah,” Jason pulled away, his arm slipping from you. It felt cold suddenly, like icy teeth were nibbling on your skin. You smiled wanly, watching as he glanced at the kitchen—at the stovetop where vegetables were simmering in an oil-slick pan.

It was strange. Where was your enthusiasm? Where was the joy that bubbled inside you like liquid sunlight? And why were his eyes so bloodshot? 

You know for a fact that you didn’t mean to be overbearing. All you asked was if he was okay. What had he been up to? Why hadn’t he called? Texted? Why did the notes stop?

Had you done something without even realising? 

Maybe you should have realised he was already fraying around the edges.

Maybe you should have realised that he wasn’t ready to come face to face with something that ached to love him when he’d spent a whole month fighting people who didn’t.

“Jason, come on. I can tell that you’re more than tired,” you stressed, hands falling to your sides. You watched as he scrubbed a harsh hand down his face. He didn’t know it, but the lines beneath his eyes seemed to deepen just as the chasm split through you. 

“Doll,” he said quietly, with something dancing along the edge of viscous. “I promise you, nothing is wrong. I am fine.” 

“Then why’d you disappear on me?” 

“I was busy!” 

“You look terrible.” 

“Gee, thanks for that, doll. Really sweet of you.” 

“I’m just worried.” 

“Yeah, sure you are.” 

It spiralled and you weren’t able to stop it. Each new word said was worse than the last—bitter with something neither of you had tried to acknowledge. Since when were you so distant from each other? 

Sirens whoop in the distance, and a cold front of wind pushes against you. If only it could seep inside of you and reach for the heat settled between your lungs. If only it could freeze whatever ugly, wailing mess was lingering just beneath the surface of the calm you’d forced on yourself when you walked out of the apartment. 

Feeling like a pair of eyes are digging holes into your back, you speed up your pace. A crossroad up ahead is lit with headlights, streaks of light burning through the air as cars zip by, while others are kept at a standstill behind changing traffic lights. You walk up to the pedestrian crossing, glancing up at the little red walking man. 

“Lovely,” you mutter, and you wait with the tips of your shoes hanging over the edge of the curb. Swallowing thickly, you look over your shoulder. There’s no one walking up the street. No cloaked figure or rowdy teenage boys. In fact, it looks empty. The only thing keeping the quiet buildings company being the cars sitting dormant and dark in front of thin strips of grass and concrete steps leading into homes. It’s just you and the rush of light traffic, and the little red walking man.

And it hits you like a car—you’re alone, and so is Jason. You left and he let you leave. Is he still at your apartment? What happens when you go back? 

“We’re gonna ruin this,” you say softly, breathlessly—like it’s a confession. It’s most certainly the truth. 

Frantically, you look around. Lights glaring from cars has your head throbbing with pain, but you find what you’re looking for. A phone booth sits at the edge of the opposite street, and your heart jumps like a bird catching flight. You don’t bother checking for upcoming traffic or whether or not the little red walking man has turned green. You dash across the street, feeling your throat seize with panic and despair and desperation all at once.

You don’t even hear the screeching tires and the horn blaring at you.

Rushing into the booth, the smell of urine and cigarette smoke nearly has you gagging, but you reach for the phone anyway. With it balanced between your ear and your shoulder, you fish around in your pocket from your wallet (something you’d learned to bring with you everywhere in case of emergencies like these). With shaking fingers, you manage to find a couple of quarters and you feed it into the machine. Punching the numbers, you call your apartment's landline. 

As you wait, hearing the ring vibrate against your ear, the outside world feels muted. Dull in comparison to the tempest raging inside of you. 

You’re worried, but you’re also angry. You're panicking, but you’re also bitter. You want Jason, but his words still sting. You’re a walking juxtaposition and it’s setting your teeth on edge. Maybe all you need is to hear his voice and the pieces will fall into place and you’ll realise what exactly you need to say.

But Jason doesn’t answer, and the phone rings another two times before falling silent with a resolute ping. 

You scare yourself when you slam the phone back into place with a hissed curse, though it doesn’t latch on properly and falls, dangling by its springy chord. You rush out into the open, sucking in fresh air into your aching chest.

“Damn it, Jason…” you whisper, and your vision swims as tears blur the endless sweep of pale light from traffic, and the bird in your chest begins to brutally beat itself to death. If he wasn’t picking up the phone, that means he’s not there anymore.

Why are you both leaving? Why are you two—people meant to love each other—both walking out of the same apartment without searching for the other? Without waiting. Without so much as a goodbye. 

Shaking, you bring your fist to your mouth as a choked sob breaks inside of you, spilling out in a harsh heave for air.

"Oh, gosh—” you sputter, and the world feels like it’s spinning. Engines are roaring and it’s too loud inside your ears, droning like airplanes sweeping right above you. The lights are too bright and the little red walking man is stuck. He won’t turn green. 

What is happening?

Thank you for reading, God bless <3

tags: @kitkatlover015 @batslilwhore

© harbours-lighthouse 2025 / i do not give permission for my work to be reposted, translated, or fed into ai. all works belong to me unless stated otherwise.

[enviedear]

MNDI. ADULT CONTENT

JASON TODD has always been a man of action, more comfortable with his efforts than with his words. but when it comes to you, he’ll say anything just to hear you. it’s your voice—those quiet, almost hushed intonations, and those bated breathless sounds—those wreck him in ways he didn’t think possible. he craves it, like he needs it, needing to hear every gasp, every soft moan, the way you breathe his name when you’re close to falling apart.

he’s learned what makes you tick, too. the spots that draw out the little whimpers he can’t get enough of. when he’s hovering over you, his mouth tracing down your neck, kissing your pressure points. he’ll slow down just to hear how your breathing changes, how it gets shaky the second his lips hit that sweet spot above your clavicle. sometimes he’ll tease you on purpose, dragging it out, using his fingers or mouth in that maddening rhythm—slow, deliberate, almost lazy—just to watch you squirm and hear the frustrated moan you let out when you can’t take it anymore.

and it’s not just about touching you. when he’s inside you, it’s a whole other level. he’ll thrust in slow at first, setting a torturous pace just so he can savor every sound that slips from your lips. the way you say his name, like it’s the only thing grounding you, drives him near mad. he’ll lean in close, lips brushing your ear, his voice low and rough as he whispers, “c’mon, baby, let me hear you.” and the moment you do—when you can’t hold back anymore, when your moans fill the air and your nails dig into his skin—jason’s gone. completely lost in the way you sound, in the way you’re unraveling beneath him. lost in the beauty of you, natural and unabashed. perfect.

he’ll push harder, faster even sometimes, not because he’s in a hurry but because he’s chasing that moment where you’re so overwhelmed you can’t keep quiet. he’s selfish for it, he knows. but you keen so pretty and pull him so close, so right. when you finally shatter, when your voice ceases and you’re gasping for him, it’s like a switch flips in him. he’ll growl your name, holding you impossibly close to him, giving you exactly what you need, because for him, it’s all about hearing you fall apart. he finds nothing better than being enough for you, hell, too much for you.

🖇️ masterlist | askbox | recent works

[escelia]

New Sibling Just Dropped

Or Danny gets willingly isekai'd into the DCU and gets a twin out of it.

I know I disappeared from the face of the earth for a bit there, and there's stuff I should probably be updating, but I come baring different stuff this time :D

Just started this for fun, and I have at least one other chapter of it done, but idk how long this bout of inspiration will last, so I'm just rolling with it for now.

@flamingpudding look! i pulled a jason todd and rose from the grave!

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

Danny was tired. The kind of tired you felt behind your eyes and in your bones, and weighed heavy with achievement. He was perched on the edge of a building in his ghost form looking over Amity Park with a soft smile as he watched Youngblood run through the park with human children, Cujo playfully on their heels. His galaxy cloak (which had been a coronation gift) billowed around his lap like a gas with stars twinkling inside. 

It had been a few years now since he took up the Crown of Fire and became High King of the Infinite Realms, and while he had accomplished many things since then, graduating from high school wasn't something on that list. It sucked that he wouldn't get to walk across the stage with Sam and Tucker, but in the face of all he'd been able to do for both Amity and the Infinite Realms, it was worth it. They coexisted now. There was still trouble every now and then, but Danny had helped the ghosts who insisted on staying in Amity Park find a place in their city where they could thrive.

Youngblood watched over the children of the city, Box Ghost started a box recycling center, Lunch Lady started a program to get food to families that couldn't afford it, and Pointdexter started reporting bullying at the school since he was already there. 

On the Realms' side, Danny shut down Walker's prison. Since it was his lair, he couldn't take it away from him completely, but it no longer housed the many ghosts the warden had considered "rule breakers." He'd given Walker a new set of rules to enforce and essentially took him under his wing as a royal soldier, kept under the close watch of Fight Knight, who'd defected from Pariah Dark so fast after his defeat that it was laughable. 

He'd done something similar with Skulker, though he was a harder case to crack. Unlike Walker, who was happy as long as he had a set of rules to enforce, Skulker wanted to keep hunting. He'd been recruited forcefully by Walker and Fright Knight after they caught him on his way to fight Danny again.

All in all, everything had begun to run smoothly now. The fatigue weighing on him reminded him that it had been hard to accomplish, and continuing to lead his double life hadn't made it any less exhausting. A cold breath rushed through his chest as he felt a familiar presence slide up next to him. 

"You didn't time out," Danny pointed out without looking to face the ghost beside him. Clockwork hummed in acknowledgment.

"Sometimes it's pleasant to watch time flow in person." It was Danny's turn to hum at him. 

"How are you feeling?" The Ancient asked thoughtfully. The younger ghost tilted his head pensively. 

"It's hard to say. I'm tired, but I'm happy. And also sad..." he paused to gather his thoughts. "I feel like I've done everything I needed to."

But not everything he wanted to do. 

"Go on," Clockwork pressed. The teenager did turn his head now to make a face at his mentor. If the guy knew how he felt and what he was going to say, why would he say it out loud? But the other just arched a brow at him and waited.

"Fine," he pouted. "I've spent so much time and energy finding places for everyone here. The GIW are gone, my parents stopped hunting ghosts, Jazz got into the psychology program at Stanford, Sam and Tucker are graduating today... I helped make that happen, I know I did! But they're moving on without me. They're growing up and I don't feel like I am."  

'I don't feel like I'm ready.'

Danny stopped to take a breath and wipe away the icy tears gathering in his eyes. He felt stupid for crying over it. He was 17 for Ancients' sake! Jazz would have told him he grew up too fast, but he still felt like a child. He had no idea what he was doing! And yet! And yet... he felt...

"But you also feel ancient, right? Like you've been around too long and seen too much?" Clockwork said as though he were reading from a script. Danny sulked. Stupid time ghost with his dumb Time Stream TV or whatever. 

"Yeah..."

"All Ancients feel that way. Though you may be feeling unbalanced in more ways than one because of how young you died and the fact you are half human."

"What do you mean?" Danny turned his whole body to face him now, tucking his knees under his chin and circling his arms around them. His cloak moved with him in inky black wisps and settled around him again like clouds of galaxies. 

Clockworks form shifted to that of a child.

"You feel young because you died young. However, it is the nature of humans to grow and change. While you may have died at 14, your childhood died before that. You yearn to grow and learn, while also being an incredibly powerful Ancient."

He supposed that made sense. He recalled all the years cleaning the lab before the portal had even been built, and the fighting and neglect (Jazz's words, not his) that spawned his disdain of Christmas even longer before. He wanted to go back to school. He wanted a reason to love Christmas. He wanted pets and family dinners that didn't come alive. He wanted to grow up properly.

"But you still want to help people," the ghost said as though Danny had been talking out loud or having his mind read. 

"I hate it when you do that," Danny complained. Clockwork just smiled smugly.

"I know." He laughed at the glare Danny threw him. 

"I have a proposition for you," the older ghost began. Danny perked up in intrigue. "I know of another earth dimension with some problems that need to be addressed. Your role as High King puts you in a position to be helpful."

"Their problem has to do with the Realms?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes. Ectoplasm from the Realms is pooling into what are referred to on their planet as Lazarus Pits. They are both helpful and harmful as they do not dissipate into the air so they continually collect and concentrate emotion, but they do sometimes revive the dead."

Danny grimaced in disgust at the thought of dunking a person into a stagnant pool of contaminated ectoplasm. "That sounds disgusting."

"Quite," Clockwork agreed. 

"So what's your proposition?"

"Well, if it is agreeable to you, I would like to de-age your physical form and place you with a family that's had dealings with the Pits firsthand. I've found them to be quite charming." 

"Ah, so you want me to go in undercover?" Danny couldn't help but roll his eyes a little. It wasn't a half bad idea. He could try his hand at childhood again and still get to handle his duties as King Phantom. Leading a double life again would be easy enough, it was just stepping from one role into another. 

"Not at all." Clockwork smiled knowingly. Danny was officially suspicious of his ghost guardian. "This planet has had all kinds of dealings with the occult, and even humans with superpowers isn't that unusual. While I would advise against telling anyone you are a king right away, you are in fact just that: a king. You may do what you wish." 

For an ancient and wise time ghost, Danny thought Clockwork was really shit at hiding his expressions. Though he tried to keep the grin off his face, Danny could clearly see the twitching of his lips and gleam in his eyes that promised the old man was scheming. 

But to get his childhood back. Or, at least a semblance of one... it deserved consideration. Danny looked back out at the cityscape again. Sam and Tucker... they were down there graduating from high school without him. He'd been the one to encourage them to pull away from Team Phantom activities to zero in on their studies, but he didn't regret it. Sam wanted to major in environmental science and Tucker wanted to go to MIT and he just didn't fit into those plans. After Jazz left for Stanford, his parents often forgot he was still there. He'd managed to convince them to study ghosts properly instead of hunting them, and with a little help from the "friendly ghost King Phantom" they were given a place to start. They dove into their research with the same excitement and fervor they'd had all their lives. Which of course meant he went days, sometimes weeks, without seeing them emerge from the lab. It was easy enough to slip past them to the portal while they were distracted. 

The point was that he'd started to feel his anchor to this city, to this realm, start to dissipate as the people who kept him there started to break away from him. He still loved them, wanted to protect them, but they were safe and happy now. He felt fulfilled in his task of protecting them, but there was a buzzing beneath his skin to do more. 

Danny took a deep and controlled breath. He didn't need it in his ghost form, but it felt good to feel his lungs stretch to fullness. 

"When would I start?" He asked finally. The straight face Clockwork had been trying to keep, and he really was so bad at it, finally broke into a wide grin. 

"Right now. Everything is already in place and your duties in the Realms will be taken care of in your absence." 

Danny smiled softly at his guardian. Clockwork sure had a funny way of showing it, but he cared so deeply for the boy next to him that when Danny responded with a bad pun, he couldn't even be annoyed. 

"Well, no time like the present!" He winked.

Clockwork chuckled, and with a flash of light, he sent Danny on his way. 

The more time the older ghost spent with his young ward, the more he appreciated him. The Danny he’d come to know was nothing like the Danny’s from other worlds he’d encountered while trying to prevent Dan from existing. His Danny was now truly one of a kind. None of the others, not even the ones that eventually turned into Dan, had been Ancients. There would never be another Danny like him, and every universe was adjusting to include him should he ever decide to visit them. He had a place in any world, should he choose, but Clockwork knew he was needed most in the one he’d sent him to. It would be truly entertaining to watch the young Ancient settle into his role there, and Clockwork was actually finding himself looking forward to it.

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

It was dark and quiet a long while before Danny opened his eyes. And when he did open them it got really loud and really bright really fast. It belatedly occurred to him that he should have asked like a billion more questions before agreeing to be iseaki’d into a different dimension to join a family he knew literally nothing about. 

There was shouting before someone in what looked like a ninja cult uniform shoved a knife into his hand and pushed him in the path of a person in a different uniform. The man in front of him was dressed in blue and black and wearing a mask that covered his eyes, but Danny could see the surprised shape of his mouth before it morphed into something like anger. And then he was being lunged at.

He shrieked as he dodged out of the way. Not his most graceful save, but whatever. His voice was a bit shrill and his center of gravity felt way off. He must have actually been de-aged! He wondered how old he was now. He still felt light on his feet thanks to his ghost half which felt blessedly intact. But the other guy was fast and he ducked into a roll just in time to dodge whatever weapon he was holding. This guy meant business, but he had no idea why he was trying to kill him. 

‘Great, thanks Grandfather Clock for throwing me right back into the good ol’ days,’ he thought sarcastically. Nobody had attacked him for no good reason like that since Walker and Fright caught Skulker mid hunt for the very last time. 

What he now saw was a baton swung down from overhead and Danny knew he wouldn't dodge it in time, so he caught it with the flat of the blade that had been shoved into his hands.

“Wait! Why are we fighting?” Danny yelled, panicked as the guy pushed more force into it. The man's face twisted into something like confusion for a moment and he backed off just the tiniest bit before the scuffing of shoes to his right had him looking over just in time to see another guy in a mask, this time in red, rushing at him. He threw his hands up in surrender. 

“Wait!” He shrieked before he was absolutely bodied sideways into the ground. 

Why was he doing this? He was half ghost, he could have just gone intangible and disappeared. He didn't have to be body slammed into the ground. Wasn't he a child now? Did that guy in red actually just slam a whole child into the ground? 

“Red, hold on! This one's different!” 

“What do you mean?” The guy Red asked. He was still pinning Danny to the ground.

“Yeah, what do you mean?” Danny asked breathlessly, then whimpered, “Someone please tell me what's going on!” 

The one hovering over him must have seen something on his face that convinced him to not try and kill him anymore, because he grabbed him by the collar and started dragging him along. 

“We'll take him in for questioning. Don't let Robin see him.”

“Who's Robin?!”

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

It had been a long, arduous, and confusing journey from wherever they were to… well, wherever they were now. They'd blindfolded him for the transport so he still had no idea what was going on. He had learned that the guy with batons was Nightwing, and Red was actually Red Robin. The one they called Robin was a feral looking thing with swords, he was very small and stabby. Then there was Batman, and he totally threw off the whole bird theme but was easily the most intimidating. And that was all he knew so far. He'd been restrained at an interrogation table. 

Danny groaned and knocked his forehead onto the table. He really, really wished he'd asked Clockwork more questions. He'd at least been able to catch a glimpse of himself in the glass behind Batman. He looked like he was eleven or twelve again, which was not as young as he'd been expecting, but much more preferable than being a literal toddler. The group of people he’d been brought in by seemed to be heroes. They were all incredibly weary of him, but hadn’t gone out of their way to harm him since his capture. Though it was hard to call it a capture when there wasn’t a chase involved. 

“How old are you?” Batman asked suddenly. His voice was low and rough and somehow Danny could tell it didn't sound like that naturally. 

“Um, maybe eleven or twelve?” Danny replied carefully, picking up his head from the table and having the decency to look a little embarrassed. 

“And what's your name?” He looked like he was expecting something.

“My name is Danny, sir.” 

“Hmm…” 

It was quiet and awkward for a long moment.

“Why are you different from the other clones?” 

“Yeeeaaah, I'm not a clone.” Danny absolutely did not jump when the brute slammed the file folder shut in front of him. 

“We'll see what your DNA results have to say about that,” he said confidently before turning to leave, his cape dramatically flaring out behind him.

Sheesh, and he thought he’d had a flair for the dramatics.

‘Okay, time for some assessment,’ Danny thought to himself as he looked around the small closed room. It was soundproofed incredibly well. While he didn’t have super crazy hearing, it was enhanced by his ghost half, and combined with his other sharp senses, it tended to help him gather more information than others could. The most he could hear outside the room was a quiet hum of activity and nothing discernible. Still, he needed to decide how much he would say to these people. How much truth did he want to weave into his tale? These people clearly already had their own assumptions about him in mind, and while there was absolutely nothing wrong with being a clone, he knew he didn’t have what it took to keep up an act like that for long, which would just end up being awkward for everyone. 

He also would not be telling them about his status as Ghost King, per Clockwork’s suggestion. His captors seemed like the uptight sort, and revealing that he was a big, scary ghost monarch didn’t seem like it’d go over well. Telling them he was a halfa would probably get them off his back over the clone thing, at least. He went over the list in his head.

He was a halfa from another dimension, so he couldn’t be a clone.

He had no plans of fighting with anyone unless absolutely necessary. 

He did not have a way back to his other dimension. 

His name was Danny, and he didn’t have a family anymore.

He did not know why he was in the middle of whatever fight he woke up in. 

No, he didn’t know those people.

Danny must’ve been lost in thought for quite a while because his thoughts were interrupted by Batman bursting back through the door. The man’s demeanor had changed completely and he whipped off his cowl to reveal disheveled dark hair, blue eyes, and an expression of absolute heartbreak that accompanied his shuddering breaths. With the mask off, he reminded Danny a lot of his father. 

Batman searched his face and, much like Red Robin had before, seemed to notice something there. 

“She did it twice,” he muttered to himself. “Two of them this whole time and she didn’t tell me about either of them,” he said through gritted teeth. His frown deepened. Danny copied his frown. 

“Hey, are you okay?”

He still had no idea what was going on.

[siddyyyyyyyy]

Father figure!Jason Todd who finds you battered and hungry in a dark alley way, heart clenching at the sight of a weak child like you. He scooped you up, safely tucking you into his leather jacket before he gets you into his safe house.

Father figure!Jason Todd Who makes sure to buy you comfortable clothes and never let you be hungry again.

Father figure!Jason Todd Who keeps you a secret from everyone else, scared you could get into danger. He contemplates his life every once in a while, not sure why he scooped you up and decided to take care of you. But now it‘s too late.

Father figure!Jason Todd who makes sure to be at every parent-teacher conference even though he couldn‘t care less about education. He still helps you with your homework anytime he can, being sometimes more confused than you. (He had to call Tim one time because the math questions are getting harder and harder)

“No, I‘m just curious, what‘s a square root again? And how do you… oh, okay. I swear, I‘m just curious, I haven‘t done math in a long time, okay?!“

Father figure!Jason Todd who is extra careful whenever you hang out with friends. A built in tracker in your phone, checking in every once in a while through text, picking you up on his bike after every hang out.

Father figure!Jason Todd who gives other parents side-glances who are unreasonably strict.

“Well, my kid is allowed to drink juice anytime of the day. Just need to make sure to brush the teeth before bedtime, don‘t know what‘s the problem…“

“No, picking up my kid on my bike never was a problem. Ever heard of a helmet and body armor?“

Father figure!Jason Todd who really tries to be the cool dad. Tries to use that slang the younger generation uses when you get older.

Father figure!Jason Todd who smirks proudly every time you cringe at it.

Father!Jason Todd who supports you at your hobbies and makes sure to make your silly dreams come true.

Father!Jason Todd who will make time and cancel every other plan whenever you have a performance at school or other.

Father!Jason Todd who tries not to be the average, cheesy dad you see in movies… but fails with how many pictures he took throughout your childhood, not wanting to miss any moment of your life.

Father!Jason Todd who is way more protective of you around the Batfamily. Tries to meet them without you by his side, leaving you at Roy‘s with Lian.

Father!Jason Todd who hates to see you hurt or injured. Leaves everything once you complain or voice your worries that plague you at the moment. He‘s not good with his words, and you know that, but he always tries through showing his support in different ways. Cooking your favourite meals and you can watch him work in the kitchen at the same time. Or making a warm, fuzzy nest with blankets and pillows, to make sure you feel safer and more comfortable.

Father!Jason Todd who hates every crush you mention. Makes sure to tell you about every danger and possible worst outcome there is once you get into a relationship. Literally fake gags dramatically when he catches you texting your partner or doing anything remotely romantic with them.

Father!Jason Todd who doesn‘t know how he managed to have a well-behaved child like you, but would never trade you for anything else in the world.

←MASTERLIST

[incorrectmarvelquotesss]

— it’s the little things —

Warnings: fluff, some angst

Summary: There’s some harder questions to answer about Jason.

Pairing: Jason Todd x Female Reader from She’s Mine

A/N: An idea that popped up when I couldn’t answer a niece’s question about her father’s job (he’s a firefighter). Enjoy!

"Momma, why doesn't daddy smile a lot?" He looked up at you, his young face serious, as if pondering some profound thought.

Six year old Owen was sitting at the dining table, a picture book sprawled open in front of him. While he often asked about Jason’s “work”, this time his questioning took a different turn.

You looked at him, your movements slowing down as you mulled over your answer. “He does, baby. He smiles when you play with him, remember?” You turned the tap on, washing off the soap on the plate.

Owen shrugged, his young mind processing the answer, his fingers idly tracing the pictures in the open book.

“But it's not like yours,” he pointed out. The pure innocence and simplicity of his remark struck at your heart. He looked back up at you, his eyes curious and childlike. “Why aren't his smiles like yours? You smile a lot.”

You tilted your head a bit. “Wanna explain a bit?” You asked gently, trying to both pry into his question and buy yourself time to find a good answer for him.

Owen thought for a moment, his young mind struggling to put his thoughts into words. He was quiet as he looked at the picture book, then back at you.

He finally spoke, his voice filled with innocence and curiosity. “Daddy's smiles are different. They're small and quick, like he's not really happy.”

He paused, his little brow furrowing as he continued. “Your smiles are big and warm. It's like you're really, really happy,” he added with lilt in his tone as if he thought it was his fault somehow.

You hummed in a contemplative manner. “I guess he does do those quick smiles, doesn’t he?” You were still stalling. You knew Owen had questions about his father, but you didn’t think you’d get this question while Jason was out for evening patrol.

You turned off the tap. Owen nodded, his gaze still fixed on you.

“Yeah... and he doesn't laugh often either, like you do when you watch funny movies.” His small lips pursing as if in thought. “Why is that, momma? Why does daddy laugh and smile less than you do?”

You started drying the dishes, thinking over your answer before you said something that wouldn’t make sense to a six year old. “He’s… not unhappy, Owen. He’s just…” you trailed off, searching for the right words.

You found it hard to find the right words to explain the complexity of Jason’s emotional state to an innocent and curious child.

“Just…?” Owen prompted, his young eyes fixed on you, silently urging you to continue.

You looked down at the dishes for a moment, prolonging your next words. “You know how he tells you about those adventures he goes on during work?” You breathed in deeply as Owen’s eyes lit up.

Owen nodded, his interest piqued. “Yeah, the ones where he's a super cool hero who beats up the bad guys.”

You hummed in agreement. “Sometimes, there’s bad people who hurt good people,” you started slowly, watching his reaction to your carefully crafted words. “And sometimes, your daddy can’t help all of them get better.”

Owen's expression turned pensive, his young mind trying to grasp the concept. His little fingers traced the same picture in the open book, as if trying to make sense of the world.

He looked back up at you, his voice soft. “Why can't daddy help them all get better, momma?”

“Because he can’t be everywhere all at once, right?” You put away the last plate and wiped your hands on a towel before sitting down on the kitchen island stool beside Owen.

Owen nodded, his young mind slowly processing your words. He was quiet for a moment, his gaze again fixed on the picture book in front of him.

Then, looking up at you, he spoke, his voice soft and a hint of concern in his eyes. "Does that make daddy sad? That he can't help everybody?"

You nodded. “It does, baby,” you confirmed with a gentle yet sad smile. “It makes him sad, but then he comes home to us and we make him feel better.” You raked a hand through his dark hair gently.

Owen's face softened at your touch, leaning slightly into your hand. He looked up at you, his eyes now filled with a mixture of understanding and love.

He nodded silently, his tiny hand reaching out to hold yours for a moment. The weight of your words seemed to sink in, his young mind grappling with the reality of his father's job and the complicated emotions it brought about.

“Your momma’s right,” Jason’s voice came from behind. Both you and Owen looked over to the doorway to see Jason standing there, leaning against the doorframe, his tired eyes observing the two of you.

Owen brightened visibly at the sight of his father, his usual energetic self returning momentarily. “Daddy! You're home early!”

Jason pushed off the doorframe and approached you both, his weariness momentarily replaced by a hint of warmth as he looked at Owen. He spoke, his rough voice slightly hoarse. “Yeah, buddy. Patrol wrapped up a bit earlier than expected.”

His eyes darted to you for a brief moment, eyes conveying his appreciation for your way of explaining his feelings in a way he couldn’t himself comprehend.

“You kicked some bad guys' butts, right, daddy?”Owen smiled widely, his innocent excitement at seeing his father evident. He looked up at Jason with a sense of admiration that only a child could feel.

Jason grinned, albeit a bit strained. He ruffled Owen’s hair. “Heck yeah, I did.”

[pomegranatelifethis]

A Cat?

The Batfamily, especially Bruce Wayne, would initially be in shock. As a man responsible for Gotham’s safety, he would try to remain calm and not panic, but it would definitely be hard to see him truly calm in this situation.

Bruce Wayne

Bruce’s first reaction would probably be shock. Being a strategist and someone used to thinking logically, he would immediately look for a solution and try to figure out the reason behind your transformation. However, since he doesn’t fully understand how a cat thinks, he would get frustrated and disappointed with your cat-like actions. Cats behave so differently from humans, so Bruce’s attempt to manage a cat’s behavior for an entire day would lead to chaotic and funny moments.

Dick Grayson

Dick would likely laugh uncontrollably when he first sees you turned into a cat. He is the opposite of Bruce in terms of personality, and he would find entertainment in situations like this. The bizarre things the cat version of you does would make Dick laugh harder. However, at the same time, he would try to keep you safe and assist you with your cat form, helping you out as you adjust to the situation.

Jason Todd

Jason would react with frustration and surprise at your transformation. The fact that a cat’s behavior is unpredictable and sometimes chaotic would be hard for him to deal with, and he might be impatient. With his sense of humor and sarcastic nature, he would find entertainment in watching you as a cat, but at some point, his protective side would kick in, and he would step in to make sure you don’t get hurt.

Tim Drake

Tim, being a problem-solver, would try to find a logical explanation for your transformation. He would take a scientific approach to the situation and start investigating. While trying to fix the chaos, he would struggle to accept that the cat is still you, but eventually, he would adjust. Understanding that cats love to play and explore, he would try to keep you safe while coming up with a solution to turn you back.

Barbara Gordon

Barbara would immediately recognize that the cat is you and laugh. However, she would also make sure you don’t end up abandoned for the day, so she’d work quickly to make sure you have a safe environment. With her technological skills, she would work on finding a way to reverse the transformation. Despite your feline form, she would notice that you still have the intelligence of a human and would treat you accordingly.

Alfred Pennyworth

Alfred would calmly accept your transformation into a cat because he’s the most patient member of the Batfamily. However, having you in cat form would complicate his daily tasks. As he takes care of you, he would have to balance his duties while also catering to the needs of the cat version of you. This could be both amusing and challenging for Alfred, as he tries to make sure you’re well taken care of and comfortable.

What kind of chaos would ensue? The independent and sometimes strange behavior of cats would disrupt the Batfamily’s usual order. Batman would struggle to maintain control and lead you as the cat version of yourself, while Dick and Jason would have fun with the antics the cat gets up to. Tim would work on solving the problem, and Barbara would use her tech skills to come up with a solution. Alfred would patiently take care of you, while the chaos would unfold across Gotham, leaving the Batfamily with a day they’d never forget.

@jscrawls @Welpthisisboring @lilyalone @itsberrydreemurstuff

English is not my native language

[ao3feed-deadonmain]

What Are The Odds?

by MagicKizu read at https://ift.tt/Q3tWb95 by MagicKizu “No alpha wants an omega that can break them in half.” - “There's no omega that would want an alpha they could push over with their pinkie.” Jason is brick wall of muscles, menacing death glares and don't you dare mess with HIS territory. He's also an omega. Danny is a picture perfect twink, always avoiding conflict if possible and sometimes too gentle for his own good. He's also an alpha. Naturally they get mistaken for the opposite close to every day, which in turn also made dating life just that bit more harder. Especially with certain criteria their mate would have to have... Danny gave up. Jason still hopes, but his light is fading fast... ...until Jason finds that one guy who can barely hide the heart eyes, the moment they meet and Danny finds himself not alone on a whole different level, he'd never expected. What are the odds, huh? Words: 3403, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: Danny Phantom, Batman - All Media Types, DCU Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: M/M Characters: Danny Fenton, Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Tim Drake (DCU), Original Characters, Jazz Fenton, Sam Manson, Tucker Foley, Alfred Pennyworth, Bruce Wayne, Damian Wayne, Cassandra Cain, Stephanie Brown, Duke Thomas, Original Ghost Character(s) (Danny Phantom) Relationships: Danny Fenton/Jason Todd Additional Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Canon? what Canon, No beta we die like Danny and Jason did, Danielle "Dani" Phantom is Called Ellie, there are more characters - Freeform, so many characters - Freeform, Danny Fenton is a Little Shit, Jason Todd is a Menace, Idiots in Love, Role Reversal, Everyone Has Issues, Especially Danny and Jason, Alpha Danny Fenton, Good Sibling Jazz Fenton, Therapist Jazz Fenton, Good Parents Jack and Maddie Fenton, Ancient of Space Danny Fenton, Bruce Wayne Tries to Be a Good Parent, Good Sibling Dick Grayson, Danny Fenton and Danielle "Dani" Phantom are Siblings, De-Aged Danielle "Dani" Phantom, Vlad Masters Tries to Be a Good Parent, Vlad Masters Redemption, Danny still likes to annoy him, Ghost King Danny Fenton, Dark Danny Fenton, Dan Phantom Redemption, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Ecto-Contaminated | Liminal Jazz Fenton, Not Canon Compliant

[k2ntoss]

Like...

Jason makes love and just fuck rough just sometimes... but he loves making love, not just a thing to pleasure, but for the feeling, for loving his girl... it's a intimacy thing...

I don't he him as a abuser... a guy that don't ask for permission even if it's just a look in her eyes

Sorry for felling up ur inbox with my sad and horrified ass

Love u!

MORE THAN YOU KNOW !! JASON TODD

request for this pretty girl and for me happy 3 months after my concert i'm emotional and too attached to that event i'm not even sorry!!!

t/w ⭒ SMUT!!! a little bit of angst and so but mostly some kind of fluffy smut and also... john constantine's sidekick!reader, i'm not even sorry but i have to do this

word count ⭒ don't know i've slept like 4 hours in two days so here you have this made with love and pouring my raw feelings on it

song ⭒ more than you know - blink-182

things had always been a little harder for jason, after all that's what he always expects from life so the punches sometimes hurt less but there's always something or someone that holds the power to make everything hurt worse than hell. how can he explain it? if he has always struggled with his feelings, after being left down over and over again he built walls to protect himself and pushed away whoever tried to come closer.

he didn't knew if he had to curse or thank for the day he met you. little cocky bastard that somehow connected with him from the very start, that understood him on a level that scared jason to death but he would never say it out loud, that would let you grip his throat and leave him helpless because his heart was open wide for you.

it was sad you didn't knew it and he didn't knew either if you felt the same things for him. he knew you would be there for him and so would he do for you, jason knew he had everything he lacked in your presence. you made him feel things he had never voiced because he didn't knew why and the day you started to find the way to voice the things you had bottled up he felt a little left behind.

"i- look, it's hard but i have to grow a pair and say it, jay... i want us to be different, to work a little more on whatever we are because i feel like i need more and more from you and honestly it scares me more than anything" the sudden confession feels alien for you, jason feels like he has been kicked in the face because this is not what he had expected. you always hid yourself underneath halfhearted confessions, never your real deep feelings.

"what do you mean?" the question slips past his lips before he can really think about it and the small flash of disappointment that crosses your face makes his chest ache. how can he put his words out for you? it's almost impossible to see himself saying it outloud, it was a sickening need to protect himself even if he knew you could never hurt him.

"i mean... i don't really feel like i know what you feel for me, i feel like i've been left with nothing at it freaks me out to feel you can leave me to die if i ever lose you" the words from your mouth now sound strained and realization downs on him. it's heavy, the knowledge that you felt the same fear he felt, the way you had let him hold youe life on his hands until the point that losing him would shatter you to pieces.

the lump on his throat subsided, the way you had finally voiced your fear made jason find his own grasp on what he felt. he felt like he had been cursed, his life was a constant fall as if he was sinking like a rock but there was also something else when you were around and even if neither of you had ever said it the feeling was there, deep and rooted in your hearts and it was too hard to say it out loud, love wasn't something you had ever experienced in conventional ways during life.

"why do you poison yourself with the thought i won't love you to death?" the question slip with an ease he had never felt before and the surprise in your face made it all worthy. it wasn't just giving you the power to burn him to ashes, it was giving himself the permission to lean on you, to indulge him to have a ray of light even if he sunk down further "i know i've never said it before, i've never told you how i really feel but trust me it's more than you'd ever know"

he had reached to you, his hand gently brushing a strand of hair out of your face as he leaned closer to press a soft kiss to the corner of your lips. the contact was so simple and light but yet so intimate it made you close your eyes, his hand hovering over your jaw before settling on the side of your neck as you closed your eyes.

"i feel like i shouldn't be trying at all, jay... but i just know i need you with me" your whisper made him sigh and it was all he needed to hear. his lips pressed against yours in a slow and deep kiss, jason cupping your face tenderly as you held onto his shoulders while leaning in across the distance between you in the small couch on jason's safe house.

the tender touch of his calloused hands against your face was a stark contrast, to wounded souls merging into one as he caressed your sides slowly pulling you closer to him. drinking you in like a man starving because he was giving in to you. the weight of your body making him aware of the fact that he had pulled you into his lap and breaking the kiss he looked up at you with adoration.

"can i...?" he asked, trailing off as he saw the same resolve in your eyes. you were just giving in to him, letting yourself be totally vulnerable for him to either take care of you or destroy you completely. that same resolve and trust made jason decide he would always protect you, even from himself even if it meant changing his whole being because he knew it was the least he could do for the person that was willing to do the same for him.

a silent nod from you was enough. his hands wandering across your body to free your figure from the fabric of your clothes, his eyes taking in every detail as his hands caressed every dip and curve of your body, your hands doing the very same on him as your lips lavished his neck, jaw and shoulders with tender and lingering kisses.

jason held your waist, slowly picking you up as he kissed your neck while walking to his room in long strides filled with purpose until he was able to lay you down, placing you gently on his bed and looking down at you with adoration and need. he knelt on the bed, his large frame hovering over yours as he leaned in to kiss a trail from your neck down to the middle of your chest, feeling your hands on the back of his head.

words weren't needed, the way jason looked at you as he settled between your legs was everything you needed to know what he felt and thought, the absolute trust he was putting on you mirroing yours. it was the first time he felt sure he wouldn't be betrayed or disappointed by someone he felt he needed as much as he needed air.

"jay..." the murmured call of his name that left your lips made jason shudder and he looked up as his hands caressed your waist and stomach softly, soothing and worshipping you.

"y/n..." he whispered back, moving until his face was next to yours and he pressed a soft kiss to your temple "are you sure?" the question was soft and even if he felt like he couldn't resist it another second without feeling you around him he held back. wanting to make this as special as he could.

"i'm sure" you whispered against his jaw, lips ghosting over his skin and with that confirmation he kissed your lips firmly as he sunk into you, a slow and steady stroke to settle between your warm walls. the overwhelming feeling stronger because of all the feelings poured in your words.

a low growl escaped his throat, his face hidden against your neck as you held onto his shoulders, face nuzzled into his hair as a low and soft moan escaped your lips at the first jerk of his hips. the pace was gentle and passionate, his lips peppering your shoulders in kisses and soft nibbles as your nails drew patterns on his back.

the breathless moans and grunst filling the room slowly turned into needy whimpers and low groans as jason picked up the pace, his hands gripping your waist and even if everything got more heated there was still that look of adoration on jason as he looked down at you.

and just like before. words weren't needed, all the feelings that had been poured at the start were loud and clear in the way jason let go off your wais to hold your hands, your legs wrapped around his hips as your fingers intertwined, gasps and soft kisses between each stroke that made his hips snap against yours until your body tensed.

he looked down at you again, leaning in to press a kiss to each of your closed eyes and then on your forehead and one deep thrust made you crumble apart underneath him. your body clenching around his as you moaned loudly made jason groan "jason!" and the sound of your voice was enough, his grip on your hands tightening.

a low growl of your name was all you heard in the moment he reached his own peak, his release spilled inside you in a jerk of his hips against you and the intensity of it all made you whimper silently against his chest.

"i love you, jay..." you whispered as he released your hands, his arms moving to wrap around your waist as you hugged his neck tightly and he chuckled tenderly.

"i love you too..." he muttered. days ago he would have said he didn't had highs but he had some lows but having you was definetly a high. he belonged there, right into your arms.

[hornedstorys]

Jason Todd x Reader - You are pregnant with his child - nsfw - Part 3

Part 3 for the 'You're pregnant and he's saving you' series

ENGLISH IS NOT MY NATIVE LANGUAGE

Warnings: Sex (everywhere haha) sex in Red Hood uniform, breeding fetish, pregnancy, the Bat Family finds out about Jason's little family and his pregnant wife

Synopsis: Jason keeps his word that he'll fuck you until you're pregnant again, meanwhile his family gets skeptical and curious as to why Jason shows up even less than usual and only comes along on really important missions, even though he loves to kick ass. But the only ass he's interested in right now is yours.

Today was one of those days when you wanted to finally tidy up your home. A bit of spring cleaning, sorting out unnecessary clothes, going shopping. Well, at least you thought you would manage at least one of these tasks, but you were so wrong.

Because Jason had other plans as he gently thrust into you and showered your face with kisses that made you giggle, but the giggles quickly turned into moans as he thrust deeper and stretched you even further. His lips traveled over your cheek, down to your neck where he sucked lovingly. You closed your eyes and buried your hand in his hair. His scent enveloped your senses and you sighed blissfully.

He hadn't lied about fucking you as much as he could. It had been etched deep into his desires to have a child with you and he took every opportunity to take your panties off.

Jason wanted you everywhere; In the shower, although that was usually a shakier affair, romantically in your bed, like right now, on the sofa, even on the floor. It's a good thing you got a rug, which was supposed to make the room look more cozy in general, but Jason had other plans.

But the most exciting thing for you was when he took you and he was still wearing his Red Hood outfit. It was almost like Hood was a different personality all of his own sometimes. He was rougher, harder, boundless. He fucked you against the wall without bothering to take off all his clothes or yours. Hood watched you ride his cock dry or his thighs so you were extra wet and ready for him, so he could penetrate you better and deeper to fill you with his seed.

Jason's thrusts became harder and his grip on your hips tighter. A grunt escaped his lips as he ran his fingers over your swollen clit and you tightened around him.

“Come on, darling. Take it, take it all of me,” you moaned in response as your climax washed over you and Jason came inside you with one last hard thrust. Your legs trembled as he carefully cleaned you off and pulled you onto the mattress with him, holding you tightly in his arms the next moment.

“I love you,” he breathed and you lifted your head slightly to look at him, a slight smile on your lips, ”I love you too, Jason.”

“Where do you keep hanging out Todd?” Came the annoying question from Nightwing aka Dick, who the hell gave themselves a nickname like that without constantly thinking about a dick themselves?

Red Hood ignored the question for now, he tried not to get upset but to concentrate on the mission. Today it was the turn of bigger drug dealers to get punched in the face and Hood was definitely in the mood to put a bullet in someone's head.

Nightwing looked at him skeptically from the side, but said nothing. He would find out why the anti-hero was appearing even less frequently than usual, even if he couldn't care less. But Hood loved to play with his weapons, so what was the reason he was so withdrawn?

The next morning, when Jason came home from the halfway successful job, you once again helped take care of his wounds. You hadn't said it, but he knew that you were very worried and afraid that he wouldn't come back. And he had to admit that he was afraid of that too. He didn't want to leave you and your… your daughter alone.

Jason lay on the couch, snoring softly as he took a nap. You packed your bag and wanted to go shopping, as you had nothing left at home and the diapers would soon be empty.

You gently closed the door and set off without noticing anyone following you. You calmly went into the store and bought everything you needed and walked back towards home.

You hadn't missed the fact that Jason wanted to have sex even more often than usual. You could still hear the words of praise he was moaning in your ear. How well you took him and how he would stuff every drop of his sperm into you. He wanted to impregnate you and somehow it made your body tingle.

You felt your lips swell and your abdomen emit that familiar feeling that made you sigh. Jason treated you like a goddess. Even though your body wasn't perfect and had left marks after the birth of your daughter, he couldn't keep his hands off you.

He told you every day how beautiful you were and even during sex he never minded seeing you from every angle. Just like this time, when you sat on his face for the first time. You were hesitant at first because you didn't want to hurt him, but Jason insisted and pressed your wet pussy against his face.

“Jason!” you whimpered and your lips opened slightly as he caressed your clit and licked it greedily. It felt strange, in this position, but also good.

“You're doing so well, my goddess,” he praised bluntly against your lips. You gripped his dark mop of hair and slowly moved your hips. But you wanted more, you wanted him.

“Jason…” you began and the moan that escaped your throat interrupted your words. He nibbled on your clit and you bit your lips.

“Please, I need…” you gasped and his intense gray eyes looked up at you.

'What do you want? They asked you loud and clear, without him having to say a word.

“I want your seed inside me…, please impregnate me, Jason. Please!” Your cheeks burned brightly at this confession and you could feel Jason tense up.

His eyes were burning and the next moment you were lying underneath him. His figure towered over you and you licked your lips.

“Say that again, love,” he almost growled and his pupils dilated. His hand slid from your stomach up to your collarbone, almost restlessly, as if he had no patience to wait for your answer.

“Knock me up Jason. I want a baby from you, please,” you breathed pleadingly and the next moment his lips crashed against yours. He moaned deep into your mouth and his tongue searched yours addictively. As he thrust deep into you and you held onto his broad shoulders. His hips slammed deep and hard against you and you almost saw stars. This was going to be a long night.

About three months later, you were out for a walk with your daughter. It was a warm day in Gotham City and there was a relaxed aura in the air. You felt safe with Jason and the little girl was sleeping peacefully in her stroller.

“How are you, my goddess,” Jason gently took your hand and you smiled softly at him. You were having morning sickness more often now and Jason's excitement grew, more and more with each passing day.

One night he came home and you held the test in front of his face. Beaming with joy, he picked you up in his arms and twirled you around. Ignoring the fact that his leather jacket was soaked in blood. At least it wasn't his blood.

“I'm fine Jason, I just feel a little tired. That's all,” you smiled softly and squeezed his hand. His instincts were popping and he was becoming more protective with each passing day.

“I'll run you a warm bath as soon as we get back home,” he suggested and you knew he wouldn't tolerate any argument. You shook your head in amusement. You were so grateful to have this man by your side that it almost hurt.

You had your happy little family and everything seemed perfect. Because it was. Until the day your water broke and Jason drove to the hospital at the speed of light. You almost broke his hand, just like the first birth, but the pain barely reached him. He only had eyes for you, his beautiful partner, his goddess and everything he needed in his life.

“You're doing great, my pretty,” he cooed and you just gasped through clenched teeth, ”I know!”

And then you did it. And it was… a girl! Jason was now officially a girl - Daddy and he was looking forward to the days when he would be made up and dressed up himself. He was just happy to have you. But he had to promise you: no more kids for now. And that was fine with him. Even if he will continue to stuff his seed into you - but with contraception.

That same year, two days before Christmas, Jason parked his car in front of the villa's huge gate. He sat quietly in the car, kneading his fingers. You put a hand on his shoulder encouragingly and smiled at him.

“You deserve to know, Jay. Don't worry about it,” you breathed, and gently you gave him a chaste but heartfelt kiss on the lips. He immediately became mesmerized by it and pulled you closer to him.

“Let's go,” he sighs and gets out of the car. He took the baby carrier with your newborn and you took your daughter's hand. She happily toddled around on the snow and Jason smiled gently at you. Before his eyes turned to the villa. He hadn't been there for a long time and many memories came flooding back to him.

The four of you set off and Jason stood hesitantly in front of the doorbell. He almost seemed to be waiting to just vanish into thin air. So you took over and pressed the bell.

It took a few seconds for the door to open and Alfred stood in the frame. The older man's eyes widened when he saw you and he didn't know what to be more shocked by; that Jason was here again or that he had brought a wife and children with him.

“Master, Wayne. We have… Visitors,” his lips curled into a smile and he opened the door fully to let you in. You looked around excitedly. So much space?! You've never been to a mansion before, let alone Bruce Wayne's. Everything was beautifully decorated for Christmas. Fairy lights, peppermint sticks. Bows with green and red, it made your child's heart beat faster.

“Who is it, Alfr-,” Bruce's voice broke as he caught sight of you. Jason seemed to avoid his gaze slightly, but you smiled gently at him and held out your hand.

“Hello Mr. Wayne. I'm (Y/n), Jason's girlfriend. I hope you don't mind us barging in here. But I really wanted to meet Jason's old home and we were hoping to spend the holidays with you,” you almost caught him off guard and Bruce took your hand in his and scrutinized you with penetrating eyes.

He looked at the baby carrier Jason was holding and the little sleeping girl with the dark hair. You could already see light hair. She looked so much like Jason.

"Who does the child belong to?", asked Bruce

"mine", Jason said curtly and Bruce's look was priceless.

Bruce's head rattled and now Dick, Tim and Damian joined him. They all looked rather puzzled, except for Dick. He looked at you intently.

“So that was your big secret all this time, Todd? You've been secretly starting a family,” Dick revealed and you looked back and forth between the two of them. Jason looked bitterly at his stepbrother and you could easily see that he would have liked to shoot him.

It was a big surprise for everyone, but the situation relaxed. And the tense air escaped. The boys and Bruce had made themselves comfortable with your children while you helped Alfred in the kitchen.

You told them how you met and you could still see the complete surprise in everyone's eyes. Bruce was now officially a grandpa and he was very happy about it. It made him happy to see that Jason had somehow found his way after all. And he really had hope that you would give him stability in life and keep him on the right path.

Jason still kept his distance from the others. But for you and the kids, even he came over a few times and you spent the night in his old nursery. You knew that Jason still needed time to heal and that it was still hard for him to be in the villa. But you also knew that he would make it and he would never let your little family down.

Tags: @fanfictionlover277353 , @amber-content

[littlelambscandyland]

My Random Headcanons For Random Character Caregivers

The Flash

Eobard Thawne designs his little different pacifiers, and he's made them so so many with the Reverse Flash logo on 'em.

Harry Wells will help a little struggling to regress by making simple tasks much harder. E.g. giving them a remote in a language they don't know, giving them a puzzle that they couldn't finish even when big, and putting socks on their feet that make them walk more wobbly.

Cisco Ramon is a very laid-back caregiver as long as his little regresses over 6yrs. If his little regresses any younger he is a helicopter mom(specifically a mom).

Doctor Who

The Twelfth Doctor is always comfortable with touch so he compromises by having his little hold his sleeve by his hand.

The Master/Missy is borderline incapable of treating their little like an adult when they're out of regression.

The Master/Missy refuse to let their little call them by their title and will get incredibly upset or just ignore them until they use their caregiver title.

The Tenth Doctor starts ugly sobbing sometimes when cuddling with his little.

Misc

Alastor is so deeply scared to frighten his little; he will deliberately walk away from a kill just so his little doesn't see it (he is going back to kill the mf tho).

Gregory House is a jealous caregiver and is really bad at letting people babysit his little for fear they might start picking the other person.

Shu Sakamaki doesn't actually sleep when cuddling his little; he's far too busy secretly watching them because they're too cute to be ignored.

Sun/Moon prefer if their little doesn't work in the daycare because it makes it difficult for them to focus on the kids in the daycare. However, they also get upset if their little isn't working in the daycare.

Batman

Jason Todd is obsessed with carrying his little on his back, but will never put them on his shoulders for fear he'd drop them.

Jason Todd finds and reads children versions of his favorite books to his little. E.g. Lit for Little Hands the kids version of Pride and Prejudice. (a read along can also be found on youtube)

Dick Grayson falls asleep every single time his little and him cuddle.

Dick Grayson despite being an incredibly sweet/kind caregiver is equally controlling of his little.

Tim Drake likes playing detective with his little. He secretly loves them trying to be his Watson when he's working on a real case.

Slashers/Horror

Beetlejuice, despite being disgusting, is obsessed with keeping his little clean. E.g. always wiping their face after eating, giving them a bath as soon as you come back from playing outside, making sure they get their teeth brushed, and washing their hands before dinner.

Hannibal Lecter (specifically from the TV show) is a borderline beige mom so his little has two very large play rooms so that he doesn't have a meltdown about toys being all over the living room.

Will Graham is severely invested in the plot of What's New Scooby Doo, and will never hesitate to put it on for his little and himself.

Stu Macher is constantly taking his little out to amusement parks, arcades, and playgrounds.

Micheal Myers doesn't understand personal space, and is constantly standing almost on top of his little to make sure they're being/are safe.

Louis de Pointe du Lac lets his little feed from him; he sees it kind of like a mother breastfeeding their baby.

Lestat de Lioncourt has consistent gossip princess/prince/royal tea parties with his littles so that he can be up to date with all the play drama happening inside their head.

TMNT

2003!Michelangelo is constantly strapping his little to his chest, one because he thinks it's fun, two because he likes the closeness, and three because now he doesn't have to feel sad about leaving them alone.

Every version of Raphael gets cuteness aggression and have done terrible harm to their hands from biting it or punching a wall after witnessing their little do something cute.

Supernatural

Chuck still doesn't understand age regression, and he also doesn't understand why he cares about his little so much.

Lucifer is a protective caregiver and doesn't let mostly anyone near his little while their regressed.

Dean and Sam like having the same little so that if one is injured or overwhelmed the other can step in.

Castiel doesn't understand why Dean and Sam keep teasing him about cradling his little so often. He thoroughly believes he has to hold his little like this no matter what age.

Sanders Sides

Janus Sanders encourages their little to tell the most outlandish stories possible. Roman makes sure their story is the most entertaining it can be.

Remus barely communicates with their little, not cause he doesn't want to. He just keeps bleeping because of the sensor the others made. Probably for the best, but he does try to be appropriate.

[jasntodds]

hiii! could you do a comic!jason todd x reader angst where they were friends with benefits but reader developed feelings for him, and when she confesses he turns her down and "breaks up" with reader,

then a couple years later, reader moves on but jason isn't over them cause jason did like them back but was scared of commitment.

(if u want) angst prompt 35 when/if they reconnect

I literally rewrote this like 10 times because I couldn’t decide what I was gonna do with it and then it ended up being way longer than I intended lol I hope you like it!!

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Words: 4,378

Warnings: Swearing, angst, hurt/no comfort, mention of casual sex

masterlist | tag list | requests: open

You’re seated on Jason’s couch, facing him as you sit cross-legged. Your hands are in your lap, fiddling with your fingers as your hands shake. You think you’re gonna be sick.

“I-I, uh, I…like you.” You say it slower this time, barely glancing up Jason’s face. “More than a friend.” You wince with your words, wishing desperately to go back in time and not say anything.

He blinks at you and it’s the longest few seconds of your life.

“That…” Jason starts and he wants to bolt for the door. He wants to get as far away from this conversation as he possibly can.

The whole friends with benefits was supposed to be just that. Friends…with benefits. There were never supposed to be feelings because that complicates everything. Jason is very good at hiding his and keeping them to himself but you? He never thought you’d ever feel anything for him more than a friendship.

He thought, eventually, you’d find someone either at work or maybe on a shitty dating app he’d scoff and harass you over. The benefits would end and his chest would hurt a little but you’d be happy with someone who was deserving. You’d be with someone who was afraid to have this conversation.

“It’s…it’s okay if you don’t.” You chew the inside of your cheek, feeling them burn.

Jason Todd has only ever made you feel safe. It seems as though that security he offered allowed you to confess your feelings for him. You should have trusted your instincts. Bad Idea.

“I don’t.” Jason takes the out without even thinking about it and the words feel like glass on his tongue.

He watches your face fall and the rims of your eyes start to water. Your mouth opens as if you don’t know what to say and you’re grasping for anything. It’s not you, he thinks. It’s him, he thinks and he knows that’s terrible because that’s what everyone says but it’s true. He’s lying to you but it’s because he will always be a problem. He can’t bare the idea of a relationship or the commitment or anything that comes with offering himself to someone in that way.

He can’t offer the security of commitment.

This was supposes to be just friends having casual sex sometimes.

“Oh.” You finally get out and Jason thinks he’s just committed the worst crime of his life.

“You’re my best friend.” He says it and even that feels like a lie now.

You nod.

All you do is nod because you think if you try to say anything, a sob will rip your throat to shreds. You want to hold onto some part of your dignity.

Jason isn’t sure how you’d ever come back from this. He knows now. Now he knows you have feelings for him and he can’t just hold onto it. It’s too hard because he has feelings for you, too. Now that he knows, he’s terrified he will spill one day and then he’ll be sucked into something he can’t do. He’ll hurt you. He’ll hurt you worse than you are right now. Being friends with benefits was so much easier. He didn’t have to give you that part of himself. He didn’t have to worry about that part of you.

“I can’t do this anymore.” Jason keeps his voice steady, deciding maybe it’s best to just cut ties before this gets any worse for either one of you.

He thinks he’ll regret it later.

“But—“

“I can’t do it anymore.” Jason repeats himself, a little harder this time.

He knows he’ll regret it later.

“You should go.” He says it with a little bit of a bite and he really doesn’t mean to but he thinks if he doesn’t, you’ll hear his voice crack.

“Jay, I’m sorry.” You manage to get out as you get to your feet and somewhere in our stomach you feel betrayed.

It’s not that he doesn’t like you back, that’s okay. But he was supposed to be safe. Sure, he’s safe in a physical sense. You never have to even look over your shoulder or offer any paranoia when you walk with him through Gotham. You know if anything were to happen, he would know and he’d come. He’s always been safe in this protective way but he always felt safe with everything else, too.

You thought you could trust him with your words and your feelings and your heart. You thought, because he was your best friend first, even if this played out where you read the whole thing wrong, you’d be friends. He would apologize and offer some sort of condolence and you’d get over it. But, this doesn’t even feel like the Jason you’ve come to know and adore. A part of you feels lied to. You thought you could tell him anything.

“Just go.” Jason pulls in a breath. “Not tryin’ to hurt you but I can’t do it and that’s not fair to you. We shouldn’t’ve started this whole thing anyway.”

You nod again.

You think the floor might collapse from under your feet.

“Okay.” You say in defeat. “Okay.” You say it again as if the second time will ease some of the ache through your chest cavity.

It doesn’t.

And you leave with a hung head and tears stinging your eyes while Jason bites the lump in his throat down.

“You ready?” Dick asks, his arm locked with yours.

“I’m never ready for these and yet, I keep getting dragged to them.” You widen your eyes with a cornered grin.

Another gala, another night in a dress that isn’t the most comfortable, another night surrounded by rich people who don’t actually care about what the gala is for. You tend to be a plus one for Dick these days just so he doens’t have to go alone and half the time, you’re able to be an excuse to get out of there. You think that’s why he asks you.

“Thank you again.” Dick’s smile is bright and cheery, tender and kind.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re welcome.” You brush him off with a smile as the two of you enter the building.

You hang onto Dick’s arm, walking through the large room to greet some of the business men and women who are expected to be donating tonight. Dick makes nice as he always does while you just tag along. Talking to people at thes things was never much of a strong suit or something you really wanted to do. You are exclusively here for your friend.

After the fifth group, you excuse yourself to grab drinks for you and Dick. Standing at the bar seems to be a nice break from it all so you stall for a few minutes. You take your time ordering drinks and looking around the room, noticing some of the other bats also making their rounds to different groups. It almost makes you laugh knowing they all hate these things, too. But your attention suddenly gets pulled to the side as you feel someone stand beside you. Their presence is towering.

“Hey.” He say and you’d still recognize the voice anywhere.

“Uh…hey.” You state, turning around to face Jason.

In two years, he hasn’t changed. He’s in a tux, one similar to the one Dick is wearing. Black and white, pretty standard for these things. His hair is slicked and styled to lay flat, the white streak still bright as ever. You never liked his hair done this way. It always looked best a bit disheveled and tossled. His eyes are still the prettiest shade of green you’ve ever seen. You think he looks just as pretty today as he did two years ago and then you almost mentally scold yourself for even thinking it.

“How’re you?” Jason asks, trying hi best to ignore the racing of his heart.

You’re wearing one of your favorite colors, a color Jason swore always looked best on you. The dress fits you well even though Jason is betting you’re ready to go home and change. You have your hair done neatly, styled to be out of your face. Jason saw you from across the room and he thought the whole world stopped for just a second. Something that hasn’t happened in two years.

“I’m okay.” You answer, keeping it plain, not sure how else you’re really supposed to approach this.

“Good.” Jason nods his head, sucking in a breath as he looks out to the floor. Dick is laughing with someone in a group. “What a kiss ass.” Jason mutters.

Your brows furrow. “I recall you faking a handful of laughs at these a few times.” You remind him.

You catch a hint of a smile coming ot his lips. If he actually smiles, you’ll be doomed.

“Got me there, I guess.” Jason shrugs before looking back to you. “But it’s Dick.”

You catch a hint of a smile coming ot his lips. If he actually smiles, you’ll be doomed.

You nod. “Mhm.” You hum, taking a small drink from your glass.

It’s been two years since you’ve seen each other. Two years since you’ve spoken. You went from almost nightly hookups and sleeping together, speaking nearly all day when you could, best friends, to nothing. He was your favorite person, your best friend in the entire world and now it’s like he was nothing. He was just someone you knew. It hurt then.

But you’ve moved on.

“It’s uh, good to see you.” Jason lets the words fall from his lips.

“You, too.” You answer, still remaining a bit cold, not entirely trying to.

Maybe it hurts now, too.

Talking to him now is like picking open a scabbed wound.

Jason saw you the second you came in with Dick. He’s been watching you from a distance ever since and he finally gathered the courage to talk to you, knowing you could hold a grudge better than anyone. He knew you were still holding one against him given the zero contact and zero attempt. It was a risky move coming to talk to you and he’s not entirely sure what he wanted from the conversation. All he knows is that his heart is in his throat and his hands are sweaty. He wants to smile and his stomach is knots. He thinks he misses you more than he ver thought he could.

In the two years since he’s seen you, he’s had time to think about his decision. He’s had plenty of time to wallow in his regret and still not bear to even hold the courage to try and mend things. How could he possibly mend anything whe he knows he hurt you? He’s not supposed to hurt the people that care abut him even if that seems to be what ends up happening.

He didn’t mean to hurt you, just himself.

“How are you?” You finally ask and you don’t know why you do.

Maybe it’s a habit.

Maybe you do care.

“Good.” Jason answers quickly, clearing his throat. “Same old.”

“Good.” You nod softly, quickly raising your brows.

You swore you moved on. You swore you were done. You even dated a few people since and were happy in your relationships, barely thinking about him on occasion. You were happy. Not that he really gave you any choice since he never reached out to try and fix things. In fact, you’re almost entirely positive he’s even avoided you. But, he’s standing in front of you, a careful distance away to mind your personal space and it’s like every feeling you ever had for him gets thrown back to the surface.

How the fuck does he do that?

You shake your head. “Should probably get back to Dick.” You pick up the two drinks.

“Yeah, right.” Jason answers. “It was good to see ya.” Jason pulls a breath and musters a small smile.

Your breath catches in your throat. His smile was always something you admired.

“You too, Jason.” You give him a soft nod and you think see a grimace cross his face for a half a second with the use of his name, something you almost never called him.

Jason watches you walk back to Dick and he feels the aching in his chest. It’s been two years and he has to fight the urge to call and text you. He has to fight the urge to go to your apartment after patrol. It’s why he’s avoided anything and everything you were invited to. You’d never turn down your friend because of something that happened between him and you. That just wasn’t you. So, he avoided, trying to make it easier for you at the very least. But it’s been near torture him.

He misses you.

You go back to Dick, putting on a fake smile. The rest of the night you spend trying to forget your entire interaction with Jason. Talking and joking with Dick and the either bats doesn’t seem to help. Your mind always seems to wander back to Jason just as it did forever ago. This time though, instead of some sort of giddy smile and your mind feeling all mushy, it only feels sad and achy. You think you miss him more than you’ve convinced yourself.

By the time Dick takes you home, you’re exhausted from faking your way through conversations and a few laughs. The only thing you really want to do is eat something, turn on a comfort movie, and go to bed.

Pretend like you never ran into Jason.

It’s always a risk running into Jason whenever it’s something involving the bats. It’s why you don’t go to everything you’re invited to. You were friends, friends with benefits, but friends and somehow it’s always felt more like an actual break up than anything. Somehow you’re in the middle of him and his family half the time while having also been friends with them.

The game of avoidance is exhausting.

You change into something that’s actually comfortable and find yourself rummaging through your fridge, kicking yourself for not stopping at the store yesterday.

You were tired. It seemed too much work but it’s eleven at night and you don’t have much.

You settle for some toast and swear you’ll hit the store tomorrow.

After a few minutes of staring blankly at your toaster, your toast pops and you find yourself seated on your counter. It’s bland and not all too filly but you thin it’s better than not eating anything. Maybe by the time you’re done, you’ll feel a little better.

You scroll through your phone, mindlessly eating. It’s nothing unusual as you scroll through your feeds. A few photos from friends, a few cute cat videos, and an annoying ad every few posts. In all honesty, you find yourself content sitting here. That was, until you hear the sliding of your living room window.

Mid-bite you’re pausing, looking to your window as your heart runs to your throat.

You look over to the other side of your counter, clocking your full butcher block. Not ideal, you think. You can’t throw them with great accuracy. But your baseball bat is your room and your only other option is a pan from the cupboard below you.

You settle for the butcher knife, grabbing it as you hop off the counter.

“Get out!” You grind your teeth as the figure starts to come through your window.

“Hey to you, too.”

You roll your eyes, seeing Jason emerge from the window, helmet covering his face and distorting his voice.

Of course it’s him. You couldn’t just spend the rest of your evening trying to forget about him.

“What the hell are you doing crawling through my window?” You bite back.

In all honesty, you should have locked it. It’s been two years and leaving it unlocked is still such a habit and you can’t seem to break it. Something about maybe he gets hurt one day and he still chooses to come to you. You hate the thought.

“Why the fuck is your window unlocked?” Jason quips back.

You glare back at him. “Habit.” You state sternly.

“Do you want to put the knife down?” Jason asks, reaching behind his head to the take the helmet off.

“Depends.” You raise your brows at him more to just be difficult.

He’s made your night pretty unpleasant and difficult so you’re going to make his night the same.

He matches your stare, shifting his weight to his right foot as he holds his helmet on his hip. You make an annoyed and mocking face at him before you put the knife it’s rightful place. You still fold too easily around him.

“Go on.” You gesture a hand towards him.

You hope he gets whatever it is over with so you can just go to bed. Fuck your other plans. You’re so done with tonight.

Jason bites the inside of his cheek. He tried his best to muster up the courage to come over here. He intentionally came before patrol. This way, he could always back out and if this got ugly, he would have to leave anyway.

“Just wanted to know if we could talk.” Jason says and he dodges your eyes entirely.

Your brows pull together. “About?” You roll your eyes. “You could be more forthcoming.”

Jason knew you would not make this easy. None of this is easy. If he could even communicate the fact it was hard for him that would make this whole thing easier but that seems to stick to his throat. He’s run over everything he wanted to say ever since he watched you walk back to Dick a few hours ago. He thinks he has the whole memorized but you’re just watching him, looking more annoyed than he’s ever seen you before.

He’s forgotten everything he ever wanted to say to you.

“D’ya remember that night?” Jason blurts the question out before he has a chance to turn around. He regret the question the second it leaves his lips. “And I—“

“Kicked me out of your apartment and then never spoke to me until tonight? Yes.” You finish with a bitter spite in your tone.

This is what he wanted to talk about?

“I-, well was hopin’ I could explain.” Jason sucks in a breath and he shifts his weight again to his left foot.

“After two years, now you want to explain your actions?” Your eyes are wide and you’re trying to keep your voice down but it still hurts as much you want to deny it does.

Jason sees your jaw clench and your fist ball. You look absolutely furious with him and he knows he deserves it. He should have had this conversation that night or at the very least the next day or just not two years later. He feels like he’s intruding and he has no idea what to do. The last thing he wants to do is intrude. Why did he decide to do this?

“I know it sucks.” Jason says. “I saw ya tonight and I dunno.” Jason shrugs his shoulders. “Thought about it…a lot before, too.” His voice goes a little quiet. “I’m not good at this.”

There’s a part of you that almost wants to soften. It’s not that Jason is really loud or anything but his voice is usually a little rough, not necessarily “quiet”. He’s only ever really quiet when he has to be or when he’s trying to get himself to talk about something he does not want to, around you anyway. It’s a trait you picked up on not too long into your friendship. At he time, you wished he didn’t feel the need to make himself quiet or small in order to say what he was thinking. You don’t know how you feel about it now but you don’t want to feel whatever this ache in your chest is.

“Well fucking try, Jason.” You cross your arms deciding to fight the ache with a bite.

“I was just scared.” He confesses and you don’t think you’ve ever heard him sound so small.

That’s not fair. He’s the one that hurt you. He’s the one that didn’t call after everything and now you’re standing here wanting to hug him and tell him that it’s okay. He doesn’t do it on purpose. Despite it all, you are certain Jason would never guilt you on purpose. But, you still feel guilty because you know him. You know nearly everything there is to know about him.

But it fucking hurts and you were scared, too.

“Do you think I wasn’t?” You question, your voice harsh and pained. “And I had good reason, apparently.” You spit back and you don’t know why you say it.

Jason thinks this whole thing was a bad idea. There has not been a day he doesn’t wish he could take it back. He knows it hurt you and he misses you. But, hearing that you should have been scared to tell him something makes him feel like you’re ripping his heart out of his chest. He thinks this is something how you must have felt that night.

Jason groans. “You told me you had feelings for me and I fucking didn’t know what to do! I’m not good for you!” He tries to defend himself, scrambling for any part of his original speech to come back to him. “Thought we could just…do what we were doing and you’d find someone else.” His voice almost sounds defeated.

“That’s such a load of shit.” You fire back. “I didn’t want anyone else! I wanted you!” Your hands move out in front of you as if that will get your point across.

“Fuck,” He lets out an exasperated groan. “I was fucking scared I’d fuck it up with you or you’d get hurt for being with me. I didn’t want to risk that!” Jason shakes his head and looks to the floor. There are no excuses for the way he hurt you. “I knew I’d fuck it up.”

“So what are you saying?” You shrugs your shoulders, trying to get him to get to the point.

“I-I have feelings for you, too.” Jason nearly swallows his own vocal chords.

That sends you right over the edge. You’re somewhere between pissed and in agony. How dare he come to you and confess after two years? You moved on. You have been dating and getting on with your life. You have friends that are not him or the bats. Now, he wants to show up and suddenly tell you this? And then he wants to say it’s because you deserve better. What does he know? If he knew anything, he’d know none of it mattered to you in the first place. Every doubt he ever had about himself, you didn’t care about because you always knew he was good and enough and deserving. And that actually hurts because he can’t see himself the way you always saw him. Why could he never see himself the way you saw him?

“No! You don’t get to show up two years later and suddenly tell me you like me. That’s not fair! I have moved on from you!” You scream back, not able to hold back anymore. “I told you I liked you and you told me that you couldn’t fucking do it! You kicked me out! You kicked me out of your life! That’s not fucking fair.” You can feel your voice crack as tears well behind your eyes. “You broke me and you never even apologized for it.” Your voice comes back down and you can feel your heart nearly wanting to break through your ribs.

“I-I’m sorry.” Jason’s voice is soft and small. He didn’t mean to not even apologize. He didn’t know it hurt that badly. He couldn’t even imagine it would. He should have known. “I fucking swear I am. I didn’t mean to.”

“Well you did. You couldn’t have a conversation with me to explain it. You just…cut me out of your life like I was nothing. Do you have any idea how badly that hurt?” You question and the anger is starting to flood away with heartbreak.

“Please,” Jason tries. “You should be mad but…I…I do miss you.”

It’s something you’ve wanted to hear for a long time. Sometimes, you’d think he’d show up out of the blue and tell you he misses you. He wouldn’t be in love with you or anything like that but he’d come by and he’d miss you. You’d be friends again and go back to some sort of normal. He’d be in your life again but that day never came. Not until now and it doesn’t feel the way you were hoping it would. All it does is hurt.

“I miss you, too.” Your voice is small as it cracks because you do miss him. “But that doesn’t make any of this okay.” You shake your head with the soft shrug of your shoulders.

“Just want you back even if it’s friends.” Jason feels the burning behind his eyes and he doesn’t deserve your forgiveness. You’re right and he knows you are. “I’m sorry.”

You were friends for years before you even started the friends with benefits thing. You do miss him. As much as he’s hurt you, you would very much like to have him in your life again. Jason struggles sometimes with things and this is one of those things. You know. But, that doesn’t mean you should have to be someone who gets hurt because of it. As much as you want him back in your life, it’s something you don’t think you can answer at the moment.

“I’m gonna have to think on it, Jason.” You let out a sigh.

Jason nods softly, feeling absolutely crushed and defeated. “Okay.”

“You should go.” You say it softly, holding back tears and every urge you have to work it out. You’re too angry, too annoyed, too sad, and still too infatuated with him to think straight.

“I’m sorry.” Jason offers once more as he walks back to the window.

He slides on his helmet and just like that, he’s gone.

[adriaticmidnight]

An Aviary for an Owlet

46K words and completed on AO3

"He couldn’t help but notice the way the boy was moving. Stilted and wrong, as if he were putting weight on parts of himself that weren't used to it.

Jason knew that movement well, it was something he’d done when his scar was fresh: when he was learning to be a person again.

How long had this kid been dead?"

-

After finding a de-aged Danny in the morgue, Jason Todd takes the amnesiac child under his wing; quickly finding out that being a Dad is more stressful than he'd thought.

Meanwhile, Danny tries his best to protect his Dad and learn to control his powers. This is made harder by the fact that when he goes ghost he leaves his corpse behind.

The both of them soon find themselves caught in the crosshairs of not only the GIW but also a mysterious gang that has set up shop in Gotham and has been dumping bodies around the city.

Snippet from Chapter one:

The lock clicked; the door creaking open slowly.  Heavy boots treaded over the linoleum floor.  The scent of formaldehyde thick in the air.  Jason was glad for his helmet which filtered out the worst of it.  He slipped his lockpick back into his belt.

He scanned the dark room, zeroing in on the morgue freezer that took up an entire wall, the cold from within it leaking out into the rest of the room.  He moved toward it, maneuvering around four stainless steel tables in the middle.

He pulled open a few doors at random, checking the toe tags, until he found the one he wanted.

The man on the table wasn’t anything to look at.  He had short brown hair and stubble across his face.  Red Hood clicked on his flashlight and examined the body until he found what his sources had talked about.

On the inside right bicep, there was a brand tinged with green.  

According to his sources, the body had been found dumped near the docks.  No one had come to claim it and it was labled as a John Doe, like most bodies found in Gotham.

What was strange was that the body didn’t have anything outwardly wrong with it.  The official documents said that he died of a stroke but Jason didn’t buy that story for one second.

Something was going on in his town and he was going to find out what.

He took a few photos and slid the tray back into the freezer.  Counting down the minutes in his head til the loop he’d created for the camera’s ran out.  He should still have 10 minutes left, plenty of time to be clear across town.

That’s when he heard it.

Crying.

Jason stood perfectly still; his heart skipping a beat when he realized that it was coming from the freezer.  He moved toward the sound; straining his ears.

He ran through the possible things it could be, bodies sometimes made sound after death, even moved, but this couldn’t be that.  Maybe something was loose and making the sound?  That’s why the freezer was leaking into the room?  But if so, then why didn’t he hear it when he walked in?

But even for all his speculations, in his gut Jason knew what the sound meant.  He bent down to a lower door and turned up the hearing sensitivity in his helmet; pressing his head closer to the door.  

A sniffle.

He clamped down on his racing thoughts and steeled himself.

The door opened with a loud PSHHH , a cloud of cold air escaping from the freezer.  The crying stopped, followed by scuttling as something moved further back.  Through the cloud of cold air, two glowing green eyes stared back at him; their small body pressed up against the back of the freezer.

A kid.

Fuck.

Jason took off his helmet, leaving him with just his red domino underneath.  He tried to make his voice as calm as possible.

“Hey, it’s okay.  I’m just a guy, see?  I just want to help.”

The child moved slowly, clutching at the white sheet around them like a lifeline.  He couldn’t be more than seven years old.  As he moved closer Jason saw that the boy had dark hair and blue eyes.  Why had he seen green eyes before?  

He couldn’t help but notice the way the boy was moving.  Stilted and wrong, as if he were putting weight on parts of himself that weren't used to it. 

Jason knew that movement well, it was something he’d done when his scar was fresh: when he was learning to be a person again.

How long had this kid been dead?

Jason held out his hand.  The little boy looked skeptically at the vigilante’s gloved hand, but he took it with frost-covered fingers; the kid’s hands sending a shock of cold through him.

The kid let himself be helped out of the freezer.  He stumbled as he stepped out, the sheet falling just enough that Jason could see a large bleeding wound by his collarbones before the boy lifted the sheet back up.

He schooled his expression, determined to not scare the kid with any strong reactions, but inside he felt a timer start for the boy as his heart picked up the pace.  If he didn’t get him help soon, he wasn’t going to make it.

Jason shrugged off his jacket, wrapped it around the boy, and scooped him up; the child now clutching at his shirt.  Jason had him firmly in his grasp, wary to not hold him too tight and risk hurting him more.

A few minutes later, he sped down the road on his motorcycle; the cameras finally clicking back on inside the Gotham Morgue.

[basalting]

day three of @jasontoddweek2025 - monster - supernatural AU - league of assassins

Jason has always known he was different.

jason todd & catherine todd - changeling!jason - 1092 words

It wasn’t-

Jason always knew he was different. Knew it in how sometimes if he’s really mad, or really sad, things look… different. Knew it in how Daddy would flinch when he saw him sometimes, in how no matter how late he wandered the streets, none of the gangsters ever messed with him. Sometimes they’d try, and then Jason would look at them and they’d run away.

For a while the only one who never flinched, who never ran away, who would look at Jason and smile even when he felt too big and too strange and too different was Mama.

Once he asked her, after none of the kids at the park wanted to play with him, what he was. And Mama, had smiled at him and kissed his cheek and said, “You’re my baby, that’s what you are.”

But it hadn’t been enough, or maybe he got more different as he got older, or something. Cause not long after that Mama started using. Started running though dealers the way Jason ran through books.

Once, when Jason was trying to make her eat while high, she had grabbed his face, pupils huge in her eyes, and whispered, “Forest child, doesn’t it hurt? To be surrounded by cold iron?”

And then she laughed and laughed and laughed until Jason left her and her food and curled up to sleep in the closet.

Things got worse and harder and different after Mama died. Daddy was back in prison and none of the gangsters would mess with him but none of the street kids would let him stay with them either. The different was too different. It made people flinch, made them nervous. So Jason kept to himself, sold tires and scrap and whatever looked kinda pawn-able for food and second-hand clothes and socks.

And then Batman found him. And if Batman noticed the different he didn’t react, or maybe Batman was already so different that he didn’t notice Jason’s different.

But maybe he did.

So Jason kept his different inside, didn’t let it out the way he used to with Mama. Or only sometimes, once Bruce made him Robin.

Jason hid his different, and the way he was too big and too small and too much and too different. Only let it out when in fights or alone in his room. Because Bruce and Alfred and Dick and Babs; they didn’t flinch when they looked at him. He would do anything to make sure they didn’t stop looking at him like they wanted him around.

But Jason got older, and he got more different, and he didn’t stop hiding how different he was.

And then Dick was off planet and Babs was busy and Bruce- Bruce benched him. Bruce took Robin away from him, and- and Robin was- Robin was life! Robin was flying and fighting and helping and Robin was the only time Jason could be different without anyone noticing and getting hurt! Or scared!

He tried to keep it down, tried to keep the different tucked in tight to his bones. But he was so different and it was so hard and- And he wanted someone who wouldn’t care if he was different.

He wanted Mama.

———

Jason knew it was stupid to go back to the shitty apartment building they’d lived in. There wasn’t any way that it wasn’t being rented out to someone else. There wouldn’t be anything of the life he’d lived with Catherine here, but he couldn’t help but hope.

“Jason? Jason Todd?”

It was Mrs Walker, who used to push her kids behind her when she saw him but would also knock and leave leftovers for him to find on their door step. Scared of him but, kind. She smiled sadly, not quite looking at him. She gave him what she’d saved, Mrs Walker at least hadn’t changed. Still scared of him, still kind.

Tucked safely in his room, Jason slowly went through the box. Most of it was junk, old report cards and paperwork, not anything anyone still alive needed. A family photo, a tiny Jason cradled in Catherine’s lap with Willis standing behind her. And- And his birth certificate.

His birth certificate that did not say Catherine Todd was his mother.

———

Jason wasn’t stupid, he knew that blood wasn’t everything. Before the drugs Mama had been his Mama, had loved him even when he was different.

But.

But he couldn’t help but hope, couldn’t help but want this new mother. This blood mother to love him. To look at him, different and all, and not flinch. To love him anyway.

So he went, to Israel. To Lebanon. To Ethiopia.

Sheila Haywood didn’t flinch, she’d been surprised but she’d smiled. Told him about Willis, explained why she hadn’t been around.

Maybe. Maybe she was safe, to be different around.

———

And then the Joker.

———

Jason gasps awake, gags on blood and bile.

It figures, he thinks, the one time I want someone to flinch. They don’t.

“You’re awake.”

It’s Mom, Sheila. Tied to a support pillar, cheek and swollen and bruised. Her eyes look strange.

“I’ll-“ He swallowed thickly, “I’ll get you out Mom.”

“There’s a bomb.” She said it casually, like she didn’t care. Jason dragged his hurting, bleeding body towards her. Reached out broken hands to untie her.

“Don’t touch me!”

Her voice was sharp and mean.

“M-Mom-“

“I am not, your mother. You are a foul little monster. A disgusting creature that- that steals real children and then pretends to be them. This? This suffering and death? It’s what you are. What you bring. And what you deserve.”

Jason flinched, tried to swallow back the tears, couldn’t.

“P-Please- just let me-“

“I woke up and I knew,” Sheila’s eyes were cold and cruel, Jason didn’t want to hear what she was going to say. She said it anyway. “I knew you weren’t my son! Something happened, something took my son away and left me you. I couldn’t.”

Sheila shook her head, eyes haunted, “I couldn’t even look at you, not without seeing all the ways you weren’t my Jason, so I left you with Willis. And I never found my Jason again.”

Tick. Tock. Went the bomb.

“But at least,” Sheila sighed.

Tick. Tock.

“I’ll finally,”

Tick.

“See him again.”

Tock.