#and Jason Todd sometimes but that harder to find

[blueshadesfandomstuff]

Friend! What a lovely point! To love openly from a place of knowledge is badass! I hope more people write badass kind people!

ppl seem to do this thing in fandoms where theyll take a character whos inherently kind and trusting of people and then they make the fanon version of them ignorant or innocent to certain things by default and i dont like it

[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.

[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.

[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

[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.”

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

hihihi!!!! i loveee the way u write angst!!!! could i please request a reader taking a fatal blow for jason? like some self sacrifice where reader protects jay? ahhh i just imagine the desperation and him running himself ragged to save reader before it ends with comfort!! thanks soso much! i hope u have a great week🩷

Set In Place

Hi, nonnie! Thank you, hope you enjoy! ~1.7k words

Slight miscommunication, but it's in the way they don't know how to talk to each other about feelings.

You weren't always a vigilante. You never planned on it, never wanted it. But when Jason Todd died you couldn't sit still, couldn't do nothing while the monsters that caused you to lose your best friend, your boyfriend, your first love, ran rampant.

You trained and trained until you were a shell of yourself. Until you and Bruce were both on a warpath that would only end with two more graves.

That was, until Tim came into your lives. Things got better, not much, but better. You learned to smile again, learned to soften your edges when you talked to the growing number of vigilantes patrolling Gotham's streets.

It scared you, sometimes, seeing kids no older than him fly around in the colors he died in. So you worked harder, got better, swore with everything you were and wouldn't be again that there will never be another dead Robin.

And then he came back. Jason– Red Hood, he called himself. It sends your world into a tailspin. You watch him become Gotham's most feared crime lord, you watch him leave all of that behind to become a hero. You watch as he slowly finds his place alongside his family.

You're just not exactly sure of what his place with you is. You patrol with him, you work with him. It's an awkward, unpracticed partnership, and you're sure he feels the same. You've told Bruce you don't want to work with Jason time and time again.

It's not that you don't miss him, don't feel envy at how easily he seemed to fall back into a routine with everyone else, it's just hard.

Hard when you catch him staring.

You know you must be unrecognizable to him, no longer the younger, civilian version of you. Hardened by the horrors of Gotham, scarred and calloused hands where skin used to be soft.

Bruce apparently didn't care about your complaints, because you find yourself on patrol with Red Hood more often than not. It's the same tonight, the two of you paired up to stake out some warehouse expecting a gun shipment for Falcone.

You can't help but watch him from the corner of your eye, he's different too, now. Bigger, sturdier, and willing to kill. A part of you wishes you had the courage to tell him that it doesn't make you hate him. That you miss him, and that nothing can change that part of your heart that's always been his.

You're tugged from your own thoughts when you see the familiar glint of a sniper rifle across the street. Your heart skips a beat and you're moving before you've even really connected that there's a gun.

You slam into Jason, a shot is fired. Pain blooms in your side as you both hit the ground.

Everything was different when Jason came back. It took a long time to settle, to try to find himself, to try to find his place in a family he doesn't know, a Gotham that's not quite what he remembers.

But he adapted, he carved out a place for himself that's undeniably his. He's really only left with one uncertainty, one place he doesn't know how to fit into.

You. His best friend, his childhood sweetheart, his first love. You're different now, but he is too, and he wants that to be okay.

Jason just doesn't know how to get to okay. He catches you watching him, he wonders what you see now. If you recognize the boy he used to be in what he is now. He can't help but watch you too. You're strong, brave, selfless and so, so beautiful. He's amazed about how much you've accomplished, how many lives you saved.

It's why he keeps telling Bruce to put him on patrol with you. It's worth the looks he gets if it means a chance to talk to you. He's currently trying to figure out the best way to get your attention during this boring stakeout. Should he ask what you've been up to? No, too general. If you're liking the weather? Ha, no. It's Gotham, that's stupid. The weather is bad.

If you have a partner? Oh, he definitely doesn't want to know that answer right now. He'd very much just like to be able to talk to you first.

Did you miss him as much as he missed you? Do you still love him like he still loves you?

He opens his mouth to speak, not having a plan but anything is better than silence, when you slam into him, crashing you both to the ground. The air leaves his lungs when he makes contact with the concrete, instinctively wrapping an arm around your waist and cradling your head to cushion the fall.

"Hey, what–" He starts, voice failing when wetness starts to seep into his gloves. You're bleeding. You're bleeding. You're shot. You're hurt because you saved him.

He's only able to react on the years of skill and training ingrained into his bones. Get you off of him and on the ground. Remove armor. Pressure on the wound. Where's the shooter? His eyes dart, he doesn't see anyone. Doesn't see who did this to you.

"Oracle," he chokes out "They're hurt, gun shot. It's bad. I need- we need an evac." He's tugging off his jacket, more material to slow the blood flow, something to keep you warm.

"Hey," You're reaching up to touch his arm with shaky hands, you sound relieved, "You're okay."

He tears up behind his helmet. It's not fair, not right that you're trying to comfort him when you're bleeding out on some forsaken Gotham rooftop. He vaguely hears the voices coming through the comlink, that help is coming, that he needs to tell them what's going on.

But, he can't respond to them, too focused on you, the way you seem to be getting weaker with each passing second. He's panicking, his breathing is shallow and fast as he tries to keep you alive.

"Why did you do that? Why did you do that?" He asks, trying to keep it together, but it's impossible when all he wants to do is scream and cry and hunt down whoever shot you.

You just offer a frail smile. "Glad you're safe, Jason," You murmur, words getting more slurred and quiet with each passing moment. He checks your pulse. It's getting too slow.

"Stay awake, stay with me," He begs, words fraying as he sobs your name, "please."

Something touches his shoulder, he has his gun pulled and pointed before he bothers to see who it is, face curled into a snarl behind his helmet.

"Woah there, Jason." Nightwing. His hands are raised, "we're going to help them, okay?"

Batman sweeps past him, crouching down at your side to pick you up. Jason launches forward, panicked and unable to think straight as he barks, "Don't touch them!"

Nightwing hauls him back as Batman carries them, his person, to the plane. "No, no, no, please. I need to be there. I need to. It's my fault!"

"I know, I know, it's not your fault, we're going too. C'mon." Nightwing soothes, letting go of him. Jason's on Batman's heels immediately, gaze locked on you, how your eyes keep sliding shut.

"The shooter–" He starts, anger building behind the guilt and panic.

"Spoiler and Robin have it handled." Batman tells him. Jason nods weakly and when Batman carefully sets you down in the plane, he takes your hand. Nightwing starts working over your wound, you barely make a sound in reaction to the pain.

"Stay awake. Don't go." He murmurs, begging, as he squeezes your fingers. He nearly sobs again when you offer him a feeble one in return.

Everything hurts. Which makes sense, you did get shot. It doesn't really bother you, at least not right now, not when Jason's holding your hand, his fingers resting over the steady beat of your pulse on your wrist.

You're not exactly sure how long you were passed out, but it was long enough that they got you into the medbay in the Batcave, stitched you up, and got you into a bed. Long enough that Jason's fallen asleep in the chair next to your bed, his head resting on top of the sheets by your hip.

You only hesitate for a second before reaching over to brush his hair back with your free hand. He's pretty when he's sleeping, but then again he's always pretty.

His eyes snap open and you draw your hand back. "Sorry, didn't mean to wake you up, Jason."

He sits up quickly, eyes darting over you, "Don't be. Are you okay? How are you feeling? Does anything hurt?" He hasn't let go of your hand.

"I'm okay." You promise, because you are. He didn't get hurt. He's here, and that makes everything okay.

He exhales shakily, studying you, "You shouldn't have done that."

You shrug, "Maybe, but you would have done the same thing." You know it's the truth, even if what's between you isn't the same, he's good. Always so good.

He frowns and runs his thumb over your knuckles, lost in thought, he can’t find the words to refute you, to make you understand what you did was wrong. "Do you– can I get you anything?"

You smile at him, teasing, trying to lighten the look on his face, "What? You gonna be my personal maid till I can get outta bed?"

You're surprised at how earnestly he nods, "Yeah, of course. Whatever you need, just let me know."

You blink at him and take a risk, "Maybe you could keep me company for a while? Not much to do in medbay," You ask tentatively, unable to ignore a real chance at being something– anything– with him.

Warmth blooms in your chest at the way he smiles at your question. It surprises you again, how thrilled your question seems to make him.

If you only knew what he was thinking now, how much he's been trying to find this moment that brings you two back into each other's lives, and the guilt he feels that it took you getting hurt to find it. "I'd like that," he tells you.

You squeeze his hand, and he looks down, as if he forgot he was even holding it. It feels right, familiar, something that used to be found again.

"I'd like that too." You say softly. It makes the two of you grin like two idiots in love.

You'll both figure out you are, eventually, but in this tender moment, it's a sweet solace to have found a place next to each other again.

[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.

[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.

[spidernuggets]

I legit beg of thee please can you do prompt17. "Why the fuck did you have to make me fall in love with you" but like he's infected with some toxin from a mission and is genuinely angry at reader for making him fall in love with her, but like they're not together she's just his oblivious best friend and this is how you find out he's in love with you. I just find this hilarious cuz reader being overjoyed like oh shit he loves me but also like hey dude calm down lol Its also a tinge angsty cuz he's tiny self esteem thinks you could never love him back and thats why he's mad

Jason Todd x Reader

"Why the fuck did you have to make me fall in love with you"

You love Jason Todd. And for a long while, you believed it was a platonic type of friendship. Because you loved the way he laughed, his smile, his combat skills, his snarky remarks.

And then an oh shit hit you harder than a bomb. Not only did you love Jason Todd, but you were in love with him.

You joined the Titans a couple of months or so after he officially did. He offered you a brew the first time you met, and you politely declined but thanked him for the offer. This is where Jason immediately took interest in you.

When him, you, Rachel, and Gar were doing that blindfold sparring thay Dick recommended, he was even more intrigued at your skill level, but you weren't as skilled as he was, and ultimately lost the sparring match.

You were mesmerised by his advanced ability, asking him if he could teach you some tricks.

Boy, did this boost his ego.

And then the two of you became best friends. You guys trained together, played video games together, and listened to music together. Sometimes, he'd read lines from his favourite novels to you, ranting how dumb one character was or how stragetic another was.

Eventually, Jason took you to the school that he took refuge in during the time he was living on the streets. He told you his story before he got adopted, telling you his mom was a drug addict, his dad was abusive.

You listened, and you comforted him.

Then he told you how he admired the other kids for performing on stage. That's when he became so passionate for literature.

You joked with him, saying that you couldn't believe his biggest secret was being a theatre nerd. He quickly answered back that they were called 'thespians'.

That's probably the exact time you fell in love. Even after all the pain and neglet he's been put through, he still managed to become the strongest person you've ever met.

When you thanked him for showing you his school, that you appreciated how much he trusts you, you swore you saw a glimmer in his eye, even when he tells you it was no big deal.

Jason means so much to you. That's why you'd never tell him you love him. You think you'd break into a million shattered pieces if he left you because of your devoted but selfish feelings towards him. So you kept your feelings tucked away at the back of your heart, concealed from him.

Jason means so much to you that when he arrived back from what yoh heard was a dangerous mission, you instantly ran up to him, pulling him in a tight embrace, mumbling that you thought you lost him.

And it broke you when his response to your worry was a harsh shove.

He didn't say anything and walked straight to his room. He looked horrible. There was a bruise forming around his eye, dried blood under his nose, dark bags under his eyes and a busted lip.

You quickly turned to Dick, who just came in, confused at Jason's glum behaviour.

"Crane ambushed out of nowhere. Cooked up a new toxin. Anger. We gave Jason the antidote for fear toxin, but it doesn't do much. It should wear off after a couple of hours," Dick tries to assure you, but to no avail.

You pace around your room, biting your nails in worry. You look at the clock, and only 15 minutes have passed, and at this point, you feel like pulling your hair out from how stressed you were.

Jason slammed his door so hard when he went into his room that you felt like it could've broke.

Jason hasn't stepped a foot out in those past 15 minutes, and though you might think it hasn't even been that long yet, you couldn't help but stress and worry for your best friend.

So, you went out of your room, heading straight to his, knocking on the door waiting for an answer.

A depressed looking Jason opened the door slightly, and before you can say anything, he slams it shut.

You wanted to cry. He's never done this before. When he has issues, he always talks to you about them. You think that the anger toxin might've been the reason, but still. You aren't taking a toxin for bullshit, so you let yourself into his room, locking the door behind you to ensure no interruptions.

"Jason, what the hell happened? Talk to me!" You pleaded, trying to take both his hands in yours for comfort. In response, he swiftly pulls away from your touch.

"It's none of your goddamn business! Leave me the fuck alone," he says. He doesn't yell at you, but he sounds annoyed. He turns and walks towards his vinyls, pretending to sort them out, but just meaninglessly flipping through them.

"No, it is my goddamn business because you're my best friend! Why are you even pissed at me? It's not like you have a reason to!" you answer back.

"Says fucking who?" He spits as his voice slightly raises. You didn't want it to, but it slightly scares you. Jason has never acted like this towards you before. And if he is pissed at you for something, what was it?

Stealing the last pudding cup? Accidentally dropping his last beer? Winning the last sparring match against him?

"Okay, tough guy, what the fuck did I do to make you so pissed off!" You yelled back.

"For being so fucking annoying!"

What?

He thought you were annoying? Did he not like being friends with you? Did he regret being friends with you? You guess you are a bit too clongy at times. Or maybe you just talk too much.

Possible reasons start flooding your mind. The one person you loved and was your best friend was so angry at you because you were annoying.

"What?" Was all you can say, and it was heard as a tiny, pathetic squeak in your voice.

"You! You wanna know why I'm so angry?? Because you're so goddamn annoying! The way you smiled so brightly when you beat me in sparring, the way your nose scrunches up when you decipher a code wrong, the way you keep notes on everyone's birthdays on your calendar, the way you compliment me when I'm training you! All of it! It pisses me the fuck off!" He yells. You swear you can see tears at the brim of his eyes. "And the most annoying thing is how perfect you are! You- You're so beautiful and so skilled, and you deserve so much! And I can't give you what you deserve!"

But you stand confused. What the hell was he on about?

Jason rubs his forhead in frustration.

"Why the fuck did you have to make me fall in love with you," he says, way more quietly in contrast to his rant. But his voice breaks. And a single tear falls from his eye.

You couldn't believe what he had just told you. He loves you? He's... in love with you??

You were about to smile and admit your reciprocating feelings, but to Jason, your confused look on your face was disgust towards his undying emotions.

He wipes his cheek, face scrunching up, and his anger rises once more.

"No. No, no. I don't- I can't do this right now. You can kick me to the curb later, just- just get out!" He starts yelling again, stepping towards you, pointing to the door.

You attempt to calm him down, but he continues his string of get outs and leave me alones.

You didn't even notice that he unlocked the door and pushed you out before slamming the door in your face once more. You wanted to feel happy that he felt the same towards you. But he just looked so... hurt.

You decided you shouldn't continue to push. You knew he'd come talk to you later once he calmed down, so you go back into your room, waiting for his arrival.

It was late. Last time you checked your phone, it was 2:37am. You don't know how long it's been since then. Jason still hasn't come to see you.

You had your headphones on, writing notes in your journal for future training sessions and abstract plans for upcoming missions that may help Dick during debriefings.

You didn't hear the light knocks on your door, but saw a figure from your peripheral view walking towards you. When you look up, you see a dejected Jason Todd now in front of you.

He sits down on the edge of you bed as you quickly removed your headphones, storing away your jojrnal, ready to listen to him.

Jason couldn't look at you. "I'm sorry," he says. He thinks it's pathetic. Confessing his feelings because of some stupid toxin. Now he has to apologise, and he pressumes after this, you'd look at your friendship differently.

"It was selfish of me to tell you that I... That I lov-" He was quickly interrupted by you. You crawled along the bed to him, kneeling beside him, taking his chin to move his face so you can see those gorgeous green eyes you always adored. They were red and glassy. For the past few hours, he had been crying, even after the toxin had decreased. But you lay your lips ever so gently on his, and he couldn't believe what you were doing.

It took him a second to respond, but he happily kissed back, reaching forward, wanting more as you pulled away.

"You have no idea how much I love you, Jay," you say, barely above a whisper. His eyes widen.

"What? What, but I.." he sat there speechless. Was this real? Or was this the after effects of the toxin? "But.. But I've been dropping so many hints that I was so interested in you and... and you just seemed to have ignored it all," he quietly says. He thinks he whimpering like a kicked puppy.

"Literally, what hints?" You ask, dumbfounded.

"Are you serious? I've- I've called you babe multiple times, hinted at a date, gave you a flower," he lists the many times he had shown a liking to you. "I offered to teach you some combat skills- I keep those skills sacred, I've never taught anyone! Even Gar was yelling at me because I wouldn't teach him!" Jason says unbelievably.

Your hmfave heats up with embarrassment. "Well.. I never really said that observational skills were my strong suit," you weakly say, looking down, avoiding his gaze. And Jason couldn't helo but laugh a bit. He just found you so cute.

He takes hold of your waist, and you squeal as he shifts you so you're sitting on his lap.

"So.. You love me?" He asks, a cheeky grin on his face.

You roll your eyes and scoff. "God, you and your ego," you mutter, holding his face in your hands as you and him share one last kiss for the night.

[punkeropercyjackson]

I feel like people who think Miles Morales and Jason Todd aren't the same or wouldn't get along just don't read comics😭💀Miles has so much in common with Jason it's legit crazy it wasn't intentional and Miles G is closer to a Red Hood type than The Punisher,Deadpool AND the Winter Soldier and yeah Jason dosen't follow the No Kill rule but he has an actual personality and story???????He's not just VIOLENCE VIOLENCE VIOLENCE GRRRRR I'M SO MEAN AND PSYCHOSEXUAL(and he's not even a pervert despite the fandom rep,he's lowkey aspec-coded as hell and respects all his s/os' deeply)and it's not like Miles dosen't work with morally questionable people from time to time so i don't see why him and Jason can't be friends,especially because how morally questionable Jason is greatly varies from incarnation to incarnation and even to issue to issue within the same runs.The idea they wouldn't like eachother is what i really don't get though,they(Batfanon stans + Miles haters)say that like Jason didn't beef with almost every Batkid EXCEPT Duke aka the only other black Batboy and instantly rode for him harder than anyone else like Hobie did Miles and like Miles didn't immediately match Peter B's snark,Gwen's snark(in the movies AND comics for both of 'em!!)and the snark of all the more bitter/jaded people he's met in my 'every issue ever reading of this character' thing i'm doing for him and he even finds their attitudes likable if frustrating sometimes.'Miles Morales isn't Jason Todd's Marvel Variant''Miles and Jason wouldn't get along'I can tell you just don't wanna accept your fave is more like a black character than any white/nonblack characters so you refuse to actually consume either of their medias to cope

[geekishfangirl]

I can’t view Batman/Bruce as a real hero

So I’ve gotten into DC recently, or more specifically I’ve gotten into the Batfam, and the more I learn about Bruce Wayne the harder it is for me to look to him as a hero.

I’ll preface all this by saying I have consumed very little DC content, so if something I say is not actually canon pls let me know.

It started when I learned that this man seemingly has an absolute no kill rule. Not a “I try to avoid killing and only do it when absolutely necessary” rule, but a “I refuse to kill anyone no matter the circumstances” rule. I honestly hate this because it’s not effective in any way. Take the Joker for example, Batman has to fight him over and over again because they simply cannot seem to keep that man in prison and Batman won’t kill him or let anyone else do it. I think this is because he wants to believe that anyone can change, and they can, but just because they CAN doesn’t mean that they WILL. People have to choose to change and the Joker has had like 30 chances to do so, yet he continues to kill innocent people. How many innocents have to die before someone acknowledges that the Joker will never choose to be a better person and finally decide to do what’s necessary to protect everyone? They either need to find a way to keep him in jail or just take him out.

This got worse when I learned about Jason Todd. Here you have a poor boy taken in by Bruce, who idealizes him and views him as a father, and when he gets kidnapped, tortured, and murdered by the Joker he dies alone. When he is brought back to life, he’s mad at Bruce, not because Bruce didn’t save him, but Bruce didn’t kill the Joker to avenge him. Because Bruce didn’t love him more than he loved Justice. Hell, even on his grave, “A good soldier”. I’ve seen ppl say that maybe he didn’t say son because he didn’t want to erase their family ties and the kids never took his last name and sure, I get that. But putting a good soldier instead? He didn’t have to do that. Jason wasn’t a soldier, he was a little boy. It seems like Bruce forgets that about the Robins sometimes. (None of this is even getting into my feelings about Bruce taking in multiple children and having them fight crime, literally risking their lives every night but then this rant would be even longer)

And apparently Bruce fucking decks Dick because Dick was asking him why he let him become Robin before he was ready? Bro cannot take any criticism for his actions I swear. I mean, even if he never officially adopts them (I’m very confused on that tbh) he does still view them as his kids. He still helped raise them. After all, they were all underage when he met them and took them in. So to straight up deck your eldest and tell him to get out literally right after your other kid was murdered solely because he questioned you is actually wild.

Then you have the whole batarang incident, which just makes me question his morals more because he’s got the whole “no killing whatsoever” thing going on but then decides, “I won’t kill the man who murdered my son and countless other innocents, but I can and will slit my son’s throat and leave him for dead.” Like, HUH??? Also, didn’t Dick accidentally kill the Joker once and Bruce went out of his way to REVIVE HIM? Honestly feels like Bruce has some weird relationship with the Joker cause he seems to care about him more than anything. LET THAT MONSTER DIE!

I saw someone say that they thought the “no killing” thing wasn’t effective but was accurate to Bruce’s character because his vigilanteism isn’t actually mainly about helping but about punishing himself for what happened to his parents. And if you kill the villains when you need to, you can’t keep punishing yourself through fighting them. Like a self-sabotage thing. I thought that was super interesting but it would also just go along with him not being a truly effective hero, cause he won’t make the hard calls that are sometimes needed.

In conclusion, while I am sure Bruce has done good for people, it’s hard to see him as a truly effective hero (or a good person/father for that matter) when he does stuff like this.

[l0verb0t]

jason todd × masc/male reader. | hearts coming.

SUMMARY: a fic about comforting Jason while/after he has an emotional breakdown. WARNINGs: physical contact, && implied suicidal ideation. WORD COUNT: 2700+ NOTEs: second person && minor plot. this insert is more of a calm, gentle type. [no terms and he/him pronouns used to refer to the insert/reader.]

Somehow he ended up missing an apartment in some broken-down complex more than his past. Then again, it wasn't exactly the scenery that he dragged himself back over for.

Jason hates how weak he is sometimes. It's what got him killed; it's what's choking him up now.

That's what it seems like his old man is always so close to saying anyway. Too reckless and violent that Jason might as well not even be on the streets, with an eye kept on him at all times like he's a dog waiting to go feral. And maybe he's right.

He slams the door shut, and the sound rings out as his hand stays in a tight fist around the knob. He's alone again, and the only thing he can hear is himself.

The sniffles slipping out only make him wish he stayed dead longer. He gives himself a second to steady his breathing, taking in heavy breaths that only serve to send his heart into a racing fit.

He stares ahead, and there's nothing but darkness in the stuffed apartment. It almost seems out of place. It was abnormal not to find any figures sticking out among the shadows. By now, someone's would've called out, but either they're still watching or he's just imagining things again.

Finally, he slides down against the wood until he's cradled at the edge of the door. Make himself just a little less pathetic by doing it himself rather than letting his legs give out underneath.

Each breath doesn't even seem to matter as he ends up choking on it, and he only makes it harder for himself by wrapping one hand around the front of his neck, trying to muffle the sobs threatening to break out.

Through his helmet, the sounds that do manage to pass through the modulator distort in a way where he just hates himself more.

It shouldn't be this easy.

He's already faced Bruce so many times before; he should finally be able to handle one confrontation without breaking down afterwards. It's not enough that Jason has to endlessly plan out ways to be ahead of him; Bruce's voice alone is enough to break his composure.

It doesn't stop. Nothing stops, and so he gets busy calling himself a dumbass as his sight gets more blurry.

It isn't enough.

He takes in a deep breath just as he pulls his hand back. The two of them wrap around his helmet and throw the thing aside. He doesn't even flinch at how loudly it crashes onto the floor. If anything, he should've thrown it at himself and let the pain seep in so it could replace the sensation of just how tight his chest feels.

A hand climbs down and digs itself into the front of his shirt, and he wants to rip out his own heart right then and there.

Even with how hard they're shaking, he rubs leather gloves against his eyes as his palms dig in. His hands drag across his face and back. He wants to bury them in his eyes; they feel like they're burning anyway.

Eventually, they end up in his curls, tracing at the roots. They stay there as he takes in heavy breaths, but even that doesn't last long. He grabs at them, pulling his head forward into his knees while his body is tugged closer.

A familiar voice calls out from further inside. His chest gets that more tighter, but he still drags his head back up.

"Jason?"

And it's one of the few that he doesn't feel like immediately blocking out.

Another call follows, closer now while the building itself creaks under every nearing step. "You home?'

A switch gets flipped. The bulb flickers a couple times to life before staying lit.

From there, Jason keeps blinking away tears as his eyes get used to the sudden light. Just barely does it seep through to the entrance, around a corner where he finds your shadow coming in closer from a wall ahead.

He doesn't even bother to respond; he keeps to himself as the footsteps get more clear.

Then he looks back to the helmet, where his blurred reflection stares back at him. Before you're standing there in front of him, he quickly snatches it back up.

He shoves it back over his head, his hair still out of place and thus getting in the way of the eye holes, all the while he's biting down his own tongue.

Slowly, he pushes his back to the door to brace himself as he gets up.

And there he sees him, one of the few excuses he has to keep living, a main spearhead in convincing him to even deal with it anymore other than his sheer stubbornness. It's unhealthy as hell, he knows. Nothing about him has ever been.

His eyes catch yours through the helmet. His breathing breaks into short bursts again, following his rapid heart as he tries to hold back any noises threatening to climb out.

"You okay, baby?"

They begin to get watery again. He shuffles around in place, trying to cover himself with the leather of his clothes rubbing against each other. One of his hands come around to rub at the back of his neck, trying to relieve the ache building up.

He doesn't trust his voice enough for it not to crack in the moment, so he just nods. "Mhm."

Whatever the reason, you close the distance, and he's practically cornered at the door as he tries to stand tall. He shoves his hands away into pockets. When you're close enough to get a better look at him, he tries to make the shaking less visible, forcing himself to stay still as stone.

"You didn't call. I didn't think you'd be back so early." He wouldn't have been intelligible. "Did something happen?"

All he can do is shake his head, barely able to keep it up to look back at you.

"No."

Barely a second goes by, and as time skips by, so does his heart when you suddenly get closer. When a hand comes up to brush against the helmet, cradling a side, he instantly leans into the palm.

Maybe it's all worth it.

"Well, I'm glad you're back safe, at least."

And that alone was able to break open the walls. A sob breaks through, and before he can stop it, his heaving becomes all that more clear. He regrets coming back home at all. Even with his own shame tearing away at his act, it's the arms wrapping around him that's making it worst out of everything.

Your hand stays there against the rough metal and moves along with him as his head falls forward, forcing his gaze down onto his boots. The blood splattered across them from earlier on in the night seems to be drying over the leather and knotted laces.

The hand ends at the back of his helmet.

His cries only grow louder as he grabs at it, wanting to smash his own head right then and there.

Your other hand goes around one of his arms, gently trying to push them back down as his ball into fists.

You speak quickly: "Woah, hey. What's wrong?"

He puts his other hand over the eye holes, like that alone could stop the tears from falling, covering the white lens. He doesn't care if you can't see them; forcing you to listen to the sound alone is enough to make him wish he was in the ground.

"C'mon, baby, talk to me."

Choking on air, he can't even bring himself to say anything, but mumbled sentences broken up by his own hiccups. He doesn't even know what he's saying.

He doesn't move much in fear of hitting you by accident because of how erratic his movements are. Air is just barely coming through, and he manages to focus on your voice enough for it not to get carried away with every other sound.

"Just breathe; I got you."

Jason nearly collapses into your arms when they get a better grip around him, right underneath his own. His arms wrap around you just the same, tight, as he leans forward to bury his head into the side of your neck.

"No one's going to hurt you."

Gloves dig into the back of your shirt, grabbing a handful of the fabric as he trembles in place.

The sobbing only grows louder as his head brushes against yours, the sound distorting through the helmet.

His grip feels like he's close to just tearing the fabric right, relenting every little bit just to instantly grab it back up again so his hands can move. The knuckles still feel sore, and he doesn't want to take off the gloves anytime soon because he's getting sick of seeing the color red.

Your voice is quieter this time around, and he almost doesn't hear you over himself. "I got you."

His lids shut together tight, and he tries to take in a deep breath again, shuddering over you.

"I am– I'm gonna–" The words get caught up in a choked-out whine: "God. Gonna fucking stab him—"

He was either going to get cut off by himself again or by you. The latter comes in instead.

"Who are you talking about?"

Instead of responding, he tugs you harder against him. The contact itself is enough to calm the trembling a bit.

He's almost using you as a crutch at this point, as his legs keep trying to buckle under the weight. The two of you stand there in place, heavy breathing and whatever other sounds are managing to come through his strained throat, filling the otherwise dead quiet, small space.

A hand caresses down his back, and he doesn't waste a second before tightening his grip momentarily.

They're still coming in quick pants, but the beats are still slowing down.

He brushes the helmet against your jaw, needing to feel something—even the muffled sensation through the metal.

"Do you want to lie on the bed?"

Again, he doesn't bother talking; he just tries to pay attention solely to your voice and to keep his jaw from moving despite the shaky breaths pushing through.

His head gets pulled back.

And still nothing. He doesn't say anything as he looks back at you, the frozen expression over the helmet's ridges staring back at you. He doesn't jerk back, though; he keeps his hands where they are. They keep you there against him, like he can't bear to let go for even a little while.

Your hand grabs one of his, pulling them around and in between the both of you. As they intertwine, he nearly jerks away as his bruised skin stretches, but he doesn't.

He gets pulled aside, brought along into the hallway, and then brought into an equally small bedroom.

He thinks back on how much you two are paying for the place. The thought of using his cash for something other than weapons for once comes to mind. Maybe he could get you a more homey place, laying low, be damned.

The mattress isn't far from the door, taking up almost half of the room, so he's pushed forward to sit on the edge. You're in front of Jason for a moment, and he just spreads his legs apart so he can bring you in close again. You can feel his heart hammering against yours.

"Don't get any ideas."

He can't be bothered to try and give a retort in response; he just sighs and says, "I'm not going to do anything."

Your hand slips between the edges of the helmet, your fingers just barely tracing his jaw. It gets pushed up just slightly by it, and suddenly it feels that much harder to breathe for him again.

"Can we talk about it?"

He can't even look at you. Instead, his gaze is trained on that hand. A hand wraps around your wrist and pushes it back. He wants to be angry, have an excuse to snap at you, so you'll leave him alone on your own terms, but.

Instead, his throat feels dry. "I don't—no, I can't."

"You sure—"

"I'm sure."

Your mouth opens for just a moment before it shuts just as quickly. Your free hand brushes over his.

"C'mon." Jason doesn't know why he can't seem to get used to anything but the ache. Don't hurt him.

He has to stop himself from snatching the wrist again and just squeeze when it brushes over the helmet a second time, right over the bottom rim.

"Can I take this off, at least?"

A heavy sigh gets broken up by a hiccup.

With a nod, he pushes his head down and shuts his eyes, just as hair falls over them. It gets dropped right alongside his boots after you lean down a bit; the sound just barely registers.

He only opens them again when the bed creaks, an arm bumping into the side of his. Before he can do it himself, the curls are brushed back for him.

"Do you want—"

"You treat me like a kid sometimes." He snaps.

"I'm only asking you, Jason." Your shoulder nudges into his. "I'm not trying to. I just want you to be comfortable."

His voice comes out clear for the first time after awhile, still rough. "Sure you are."

He shuts himself up right after, trying to take in air through his nose, only to cough right after. You pat him on the back as he leans forward. For once, the first thought that comes to mind isn't to push it away; instead, he gets embarrassed with how he pushes back into the contact just so he can feel it more.

Whatever you were going to say before is left unfinished. He gets stuck listening to the silence and his own head.

He looks over the room in the dark to distract himself.

A couple boxes of whatever Jason brought in from a safe house are stacked together in a tower in a corner, and he almost feels bad about how much room they're taking up. Almost.

Light just barely bounces over the surfaces on the scattered posters on the walls, a window from behind the bed filtering in some from electronic billboards through the curtains.

Jason feels like his neck is going to break off, so his shoulders sound out a crack as he stretches backwards.

An arm is wrapped around him from the back, resting along the lone side of his body as he's closer to you.

"Is this okay?"

And then he rests his head on your shoulder, coming as close as he can before taking a deep breath.

"Yeah."

His gaze trails away just to follow up the wall the headboard is pressed against.

It's still dark, but still, the colors stick out like nothing. He doesn't know when you got it, but hanging right above is some rainbow flag with tape along the sides, like there wasn't a few empty spaces in it for nails.

And if the landlord complained about it, Red Hood could just pay him a visit.

His head bumps into yours.

"Been decorating while I'm gone?'

The shame bubbling up underneath, like another breakdown waiting to happen after everything he let you see, feels like it's melting away as your voice comes out low, right next to his ear. "Yeah. Like it?"

He clicks his tongue and then pushes closer.

"Looks tacky."

A kiss is pressed to his head, muffling your voice. "You would know what's tacky, wouldn't you?"

He pushes down the urge to just push you away. He can't think of a proper comeback anyway.

Everything felt better—not great, but better. Your arms wrap around him in a grip just as tight as his from earlier, and he just has to let himself get pulled further into the bed as you roll the two of you onto your sides.

His body is still developing bruises all around, but the ache doesn't matter much to him as he presses his back against you. Either way, his heart takes on an unsteady pace.

"I got you."

Words get caught up in his throat as he feels your breath against his neck.

Jason just barely forces out a, "Thanks."

[rotten7rat]

Jason Todd Playlist Analysis

PART 12

Like That by Bea Miller

Jason keeps going despite Bruce’s and Batman’s disapproval in his methods, even when he’s not killing. Bruce’s mistrust and distain only harden his resolve. It makes it easier for him to be on his own, to operate outside the Bats. At least that’s what he tells himself. Mostly its true.

Can see it from the way you looking at me

You don't think I'm worth your time

Don't care about the person that I might be

Offended that I walk the line

Bruce looks at Jason with contempt. He’s made no effort to get to know Jason for who he is now, still so hung up on who he was before Ethiopia. He’s not willing to give him a chance because of their different views and methods. Jason walks the line between hero and villain in Bruce’s eyes.

So what if I'm not

So what if I'm not everything you wanted me to be?

So what if I am

So what if I am more than you can see?

Jason isn’t Bruce’s perfect little soldier, his Robin, his dead son. He’s not what Bruce planned for him, he’s his own person and he doesn’t need Bruce’s approval, but his recognition wouldn’t hurt. He does good, even if it’s sometimes accompanied by bad. He’s using Bruce’s training, and his own training. He’s calculating and intelligent, he saves lives, even if he’s taken them too. He’s more than a fallen soldier, he’s here, he’s alive, and he’s making a difference, even if Bruce only sees his sins.

When you treat me like that, when you treat me like that

It's pushin' me harder, it's pushin' me harder

When you breakin' my back, when you breakin' my back

I only get stronger, I only get stronger

I should've walked away one year ago

When you said I wouldn't make it out alive

Bruce’s disapproval just solidifies his decision to remain on the outside. He doesn’t need his family if they don’t want him. He’ll keep protecting the alley, he’ll keep doing things his way. He should have known not to bother after that night with the Joker and the Batarang, he should have known he wasn’t wanted or welcome.

As far as I can tell, it's kinda crazy

That you even care at all

Convincing everybody you can save me

But you're the one who made me fall

In Jason’s eyes, he is the way he is because of Bruce, in a way. For all the preaching of his independence, he wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for Bruce’s shortcomings. When he does reach out to Jason its for that fifteen-year-old that ran away from home, but he only ran away from home because Bruce didn’t trust him. And when he died he didn’t avenge him.

Why you wanna see me bleed?

Why you wanna watch me fall apart?

Try to find the worst in me

But I won't follow you into the dark

Batman doesn’t want Red Hood in Gotham as long as he’s using deadly force, and even when Jason stops Bruce refuses to see the good Jason does, he only ever sees the worst in him.

[igotanidea]

Hoodies and sneakers : Jason Todd x fem!reader

@mxtokko asked me to make part 2 of my ff Beneath (Jason Todd x fem! plus size reader). This is sth that may or may not be treated like this. @jasontoddsthickbabe - I take the liberty of tagging you since you were the one who requested previous part.

Summary: Y/N may (or not) have got through her size complex, but something new is creeping in. Something about her wearing tomboy-like clothes and not being feminine enough......

It was pretty rough day. Not because of work or the intensity, but because of late Y/N has been spending a lot of time inside her own head. Dealing with her thoughts and demons that seemed to feed of the smallest piece of insecurity and doubt. It was getting harder to deal with them and focusing on work was becoming impossible. How could she possibly concentrate when the world was going crazy before her eyes and she was slowly loosing grip of who she was and what was her place on Earth.

She was really better and sort of lighter before Jason confessed how he felt about her and they started building a relationship. Before that, she was fairly aware she was not an object of desire and therefore never focused on that. But now…. More often than not she was wondering whether she was the girl she was supposed to.

The problem was, Y/N was always the kind of girl who felt best in leggings, or even sweatpants, and hoodies. Messy hair, lack of makeup and domestic vibes were definitely her style. She was rocking sneakers, using bus instead of cab and never cared about the brand. This was fine, before Jason turned her world upside down. And now? Irony being that when she became the girlfriend the world started overflowing her with the images of hot girls in tiny dresses, feminine-like with perfect hair, painted nails etc. Real girlbosses. And that was only feeding her fears.

However, she was doing her own thing, not showing how she felt inside. It was working for a while, but after a few weeks she was getting more and more sad and frustrated and the time bomb was ticking in the stepped-up pace leading straight up to explosion.

Since Y/N was still working as a journalist in Gotham biggest newspaper and considering her part-time job as Wayne tech expert she was spending a lot of time working remotely, from the manor. Sometimes it was just too much dealing with the colleagues, but of course, from time to time she had to show in the office. For a debriefing for example. She never treated those differently than any other work day, so she was not prepared for what was coming for her.

“Wait. What do you mean photoshoot?” he eyes grew wide at the sight before her. All those professional photographers, cameras, lights and photography equipment got her head spinning

“Oh, Y/N. didn’t you get the e-mail? I sent you all notification a couple weeks ago….”

“E-mail. Right. Of course I did. I just….. forgot to open it.” In fact, when she saw a message entitled “Sitting” she just deleted it without opening. Grave mistake.

“Don’t worry about it, dear. I bet we can find some more appropriate clothes for you. The girls can borrow you something. You surely cannot show yourself in this.” Her boss pointed out towards her worn jeans and a simple, basic black T-shirt.

“I don’t think anything will fit me…..” now, the plus size complex started to creep in. Great. She felt sick. Again.

“Are you all right, y/n?” her work best friend came from behind and quickly realized what must have been happening inside her head.

“I’m fine….” She swallowed strenuously “I think I;m just gonna sit back and watch.”

“But….”

“It’s all right, I swear. I was never a fan of showing off after all. But by all means, you go ahead. It’s your time to shine.” She pushed her friends towards the other girls, who were just flawless. Showing off, smiling, teasing and flirting. High heels, office looks…. Y/N felt like a preschooler amongst the confident, beautiful women. She never get to feel like this. She never needed to be on the spotlight. So why the fuck did it hurt so much. Knowing that she would never look so hot and mature. Jason told her he loved her (yes, he finally used those words), but what if was just a toy? A way to kill time before he found someone better? Hotter? Sexier?

“Not again….” she whispered as her heart started beating rapidly due to all the projecting she was doing.

“Y/N? Are you familiar with the photo equipment?”  one of the snappers asked

“Yes! Yes I am. Do you need help?”

“Um…. I do. But are you sure you don’t want to pose with….?”

“NO! I mean, no, I’m good. I’d rather give you a hand……please…..”

“You sure….?” The guy was still hesitant. Why the hell did he ask her if he was withdrawing now. “You don’t want the attention?”

“I’m good behind the scene. Now, give me that.” She practically whipped the camera off his hands “what do you need me to do?”

So she spent the day acting all cool and goofy, assuring everyone she was fine. Even if all her coworkers knew that was a lie, no one found any words to convince her to join the session as a model, not a helper. All that situation left her with the bitter taste of not being worth the attention. How could she ever compare?  She could count the times she wore a dress on the fingers of one hands and even then she looked like a kid dressed up in her mother’s gown rather than a grown-up women she was. This was a disaster every time. So maybe she was not worth any attention?

With dark thoughts she came to the manor. Normally she would tell everyone to fuck off and leave her alone, but Dick was quite persistent, trying to bribe her with some new tech ideas Bruce came up with and with which he needed some help. So, despite her attitude she changed her plans of sitting in front of Netflix with some ice cream.

“Y/N!” Dick opened the door, beating anyone else in it and hugged her closely in welcome “you look sad. Is everything all right?

“Peachy” she muttered, looking like a storm cloud “where are those new gadgets?”

“Straight to the business, huh? How about we try to wipe that frown off your face first?”

“Listen to me very carefully now, boy wonder. If you don’t cut on your sunshine and rainbow attitude I swear I’m gonna shove your smile up your ass. See who will be wiping what then.” Dick’s eyes widened in surprise. Y/N was known for being fast talker and having harsh tongue, but this?

“Um…. All right, then…..” he muttered “let’s go to the cave. Guys are already there.”

“All of them?”

“Yes? Why? Does that bother you?”

“No. I’m actually glad. Plenty of people to pick up the fight with.”

“Y/N, are you sure you are ok?”

“I swear to god if one more person ask me this question today I will draw blood!” she exclaimed making Dick jump away and raise his hands in surrender. Shit, she was more angry than Jason when he first came out of the Pit. Grayson had a bit of experience with angered girls and knew well enough this was no joke. It was better to just keep his mouth shut. Perhaps, Jason or Tim would be able to calm her down, but he’d rather live some more. “Now, move Grayson! I don’t have all day!”

“What’s with the sad face?” Tim asked the second she walked through the entrance to the cave

“HOW ABOUT WE FOCUS ON THE TECH!?” Dick chimed in, before Y/N could answer meeting with a surprised (Tim), condescending (Damian) and amused (Jason) looks of his brothers. He exhaled deeply. “That’s why we are gathered here, right?”

“Damn it, Grayson. You sound like you were about to officiate a wedding. Should we know about something?” Damian smirked and looked at Jason and then at Y/N, who was now red like a tomato, clenching her fists. “Um…. Y/N?”

“Can. we. Just. Focus. On .The .Work” she hissed through clenched teeth moving towards the table where the tech was displayed, the boys moving out of her way. Even Jay, who usually had his ways of making her chill now just let her pass, his mouth agape. None of them has ever seen her this angry.

“What did you do to her, Dickhead?” he hissed towards his brother

“Nothing. She came here like this.” Dick tried to defend himself

“Can you two just shut the fuck up!?”

“Sorry Y/n.”

“Yeah, sorry, babe. But if you want to talk then……”

“SHUT UP JASON!”

“All right, all right, I’m gonna be quiet from now on…..” he mumbled, looking down, acting like a beaten dog. Normally the rest of the boys would laugh at him for being like this, but at this point even Damian knew better than to mess with the force of nature Y/N became.

There were silence for like five minutes, before Steph and Cass entered the cave, followed by Babs.

“Y/N!” Steph jumped forward and hugged her friend, causing boys to go through a little heart attack “Alfred told us you are here. It’s wonderful. We are going shopping. You need to join us. I saw this cute little outfit that would be just perfect for you. I bet Jay would like you in it and …..” oh, poor Steph did not get to finish

“AGH!” Y/N yelled at the top of her lungs. “I’M DONE! I’M OUT! JUST LEAVE THE FUCK ALONE!” the tears finally started to fall down her face, since she was not able to hold them back anymore “I just can’t…. I can’t …. I’m sorry guys….” Her voice broke and she rushed off the cave blindly, not caring about the gadgets, the scene she was making, the tears or anything else. She felt like she was suffocating when she run upstairs, towards the manor, further away from all the people.

“What…. what just happened?” Babs stuttered “what the hell did you do?” her accusatory gaze landed on each of the boys separately

“I did nothing!” Tim exclaimed “Ask you boyfriend, Oracle!”

“Dick?”

“Oh, come on. Why do you always suspect me? I had nothing to do with it. Jay is supposed to take care of her so….”

“Speaking of you, Jason. Why are you still here?!  Run after her, before she does something stupid!”

“Do you think she can…..?”

“Just go, you dumbass!”

“Oh, yeah, right.” He slowly threw his shock off “Oh, fuck! You’re right! Y/N! Y/N, wait!”

‘Did I say something wrong?” Steph gaze was fixed on the floor, her voice barely above the whisper “I did not mean to…..” Cass just took a step forward and put a hand on her shoulder reassuringly.

“You didn’t. I bet she just had a bad day or something like that…. She’s been nervous and stressed for a while now.”

“Guys” Babs was already searching through the web “I think I know what might have caused it.”

***

At the same time, Y/N was sitting in her favorite spot on the manor roof, slowly calming down. Legs bend and hugged to her chest, chin resting on the knees, hands hidden in the sleeves of her sweatshirt. She was a bit ashamed of the scene that she caused. Poor Steph was probably blaming herself now. Poor Dick who was verbally attacked by her. Poor Jason who….

“Safe to enter?” …. who was just slowly moving towards her, cautious of every step.

“Sure…” she muttered, not looking at him.

He plumped on the floor next to her, legs crossed, not saying a word, waiting for her to start speaking, But the second she opened her mouth to let it all out her phone chimed. The message she received contained the photos that were made barely a couple hours earlier.

“Well, that was fast…” she muttered rubbing her eyes, irritated from the crying.

“What happened? Who do I shoot?” Jay asked using the opportunity of her distraction and grabbing her hand in his.

“Possibly me.” she smirked “I did some stupid things today.”

“Really? Stupid?” he smirked “I bet no one noticed. You act so normal.”

“You’re an idiot” she cuffed his arm and chuckled which made her hiccup

“Then we match each other, right?”

“Don’t push it, Jaybird.” She warned moving closer and leaned her head on his shoulder, his arm automatically wrapped around her waist pulling her closer shielding her from the wind. It was cold and he did not want her to get sick.

“If I do I give you permission to push me off this roof.” He laughed kissing the top of her head “Tell me what happened. Seriously Y/N. As much as I love you with all that fire we need to put it out before it burns you.”

“It’s better now…..”

“No. Talk.”

“How about I show you?” she reached for her phone and presented the photos to him “you see that?”

“A photo of your work friends?”

“There was a photoshoot at the work today and…..”

“So where are you in this picture?” he frowned taking the phone from her hands and blowing the picture up. “what did you do?” the girl mumbled something inaudibly “Y/N? I can’t hear you. What. Did. You. Do?”

“I hid.”

“What?! Why?!”

“Oh, come on, Jay…..”

“Don’t tell me it’s because of your size, again. We’ve been through it.”

“It’s not about the size. “

“Then what.” he tightened his grip on her and she winced “I’m not letting you go until you confess.”

“I’m not hot, all right? I mean, look at them. They are all exceptional. And I’m wearing a hoodie, torn jeans and sneakers, Jay.”

“So what?”

“So what?  Are you serious?”

“Yes, I’m serious. What is the problem with your clothes?”

“I…..” she hesitated for a while, blinking in surprise “but …..” how was she supposed to put in into words “isn’t that what all the guys want?”

“Meaning?” he narrowed his head. This bastard knew exactly where her words were heading and yet did nothing to make it easier.

“A girl who captures attention? Don’t you want to brag about catching a babe? A chick? I don’t know…. Don’t you wish to have  a lady in the street and a freak in the sheets? I’m not like this.I am totally average. Vanilla. Boring. Ordinary. “

“Baby….”

“Look, I’m fully aware I’m not the person who catches attention, all right? Not… looking like this. Sometimes I even believe your family pities me. And you too. I mean, have you seen the girls that were lining up to talk to Dick and you at the latest gala? Isn’t that what you want?”

“Will you just shut up?” he leaned to her and cut her race of though with the most gentle and delicate kiss that got her melting on the spot “Come here.” He twisted positions slightly, pulling her on his lap, grabbing on her hips while her hands locked on his neck. “Have you lost your mind?”

“Is that a tricky question?”

“Obviously. Let me rephrase it then. You did lose your mind. Do think you are undesirable?”

“I….”

“Do you think I would toss you away because of a girl wearing mini skirt? The girl that I don’t know? Do you have so little faith in me?”

“In men, in general.” She bit on her lip and hissed when Jason pinched her side “Auch!”

“Well you deserved it for having such silly thoughts. You read too much fanfiction.”

“I don’t….” she objected turning red.

“Don’t deny it. I know you do. Look, all those stories? They are highly overdrawn. They make girls believe than guys only want them if they are skinny, flawless and wear nothing.” He shook his head ”I don’t mind lingerie, but that does not mean I don’t love in you in that damn hoodie you mentioned. Or a simple T-shirt. Preferably mine.” He smirked ”Look Y/N, I know you don’t feel comfortable in dresses or anything like that and I don’t mind. You are the hottest to me when you have that spark in your eyes, when your hair are tousled because your mind is racing. I love you in trainers, when you run the streets searching for a new story. I would never, never want you to wear mini or an revealing top if it’s uncomfortable. Did you think you can only capture my attention this way? With thong and lack of bra? That I would fall for an exposed body?”

“I…..” she started but realized something  “Wait. How do you know so much about fanfiction, Jay?” she grinned. Darn, she was so going to use that in the future.

“Did you? Yes or not?” he didn’t even stutter, keeping his cool.

“Yes.”

“Auch!” he gasped “Really?”

“I’m sorry. I just got insecure….”

“I know. And I forgive you. But only because I love you, you silly one. And because I know a lot about insecurities. First handed.” he kissed her nose gently “Now, promise me, this was the first and last time you doubted yourself.”

“I don’t like empty promises.”

“Well then you leave me no choice but to make you….” once again he captured her lips in his, ready to be convincing her for the rest of the day, evening and even the rest of his life if needed.

She was his one and only.   

@pinksirensong

[kleenex-tissues]

Can We Try Again? I'll Do It Right This Time

Summary: Jason Todd fights his entire life to find somewhere he feels safe. All he ever wanted was to be saved.

A character study on Jason pre-Robin to his time as Red Hood, and an ode to my love for the complexity of his character.

Read on AO3 here

This fic is rated M for graphic depictions of (TW) violence.

Jason Todd is just nine years old the first time he realizes the transient nature of human life. His father abandons him after a stint in prison, and his mother takes her last breath before his very eyes. It takes him an hour to notice she’s stopped breathing. He thought she was just taking a nap. 

When his father first leaves two years ago, Jason doesn’t understand where he is going. He doesn’t know what prison means or why so many men in blue outfits and funny hats came into their house to take his dad away. His mom cries, throwing herself against the floor, so he does too. He isn’t sure why, but it feels like the right thing to do.

His mother’s health starts going slowly, and Jason almost doesn’t notice that it coincides so perfectly with her increasing addictions. It starts small. She coughs a lot after her cigarette. She smells like smoke and it makes his nose burn, but he loves his mother and hugs her anyways. It was just one cigarette a day, but suddenly she’s smoking the last one in the pack before the night ends. The smell never goes away.

Then, the liquor bottle that sits beside their couch is empty, followed by a dozen more. Jason takes them out every week, and eventually, the bags become too heavy for him and they sit outside the door. His mom acts funny after she drinks, and her hands strike his face. His cheeks burn with her handprints, but he loves his mother and hugs her anyways when she apologizes.

Sometimes, she sits and coughs and vomits on the floor. Jason doesn’t know how to clean it up well, so the hardwood always has a little stickiness to it. He laughs when his feet stick and makes a game of it.

A year passes from the day his father left, and his mom said he would be home months ago. He wonders if that’s why she screams more or sleeps too long and makes him late to school. She looks pale – a new word he learns that week in reading class. He doesn’t know why she doesn’t move much, but one day she tells him to go down the street and grab the doctor. So, he bounds down the pavement towards the dirty door belonging to their doctor friend. He’s not sure what their friend will do, but he leads him back to his home anyways.

“She’s sick,” the doctor says, and Jason could have told him that. He doesn’t say why she’s sick or how he’ll help, but he stops by sometimes to check on her. 

His mom begins taking pills, and he assumes they’ll help her get better. She starts taking shots too, but he doesn’t think they’re helping very much because afterwards she lays on her bed and ignores him for hours. He eats cereal for dinner those nights.

The bills start to pool below the door where they come through the mail slot. He doesn’t understand money very well, but he knows they don’t have any. His mom isn’t working. Her medicine is harder to buy now, she says, so he starts mimicking the men his mom brings home sometimes and begins stealing.

At first, it's small things, a candy bar at the store because he’s hungry, a t-shirt he really likes that he knows will actually fit him. He’s not worn a shirt the right size since his dad left, but his mom can’t help that he had such a large growth spurt.

Then, his mom begins hitting him more, crying that she can’t pay the bills and it was all his fault, so he asks the tall guy who hangs around the alleyway how he can make more money. The man tells him to start taking car parts, so he does.

Jason is good at it. The guy gives him a tire iron and never comes back. He wonders where he went, but forgets about it quickly, more interested in what pieces he can take without anyone noticing. It’s a game for him, as all things were. He has fun, and his mom smiles and kisses his forehead when he brings back the money he got from the mechanic in the next neighborhood. He loves his mom, so he takes her kisses and hugs her even though she feels too thin and smells rotten.

He makes a large sum of money one week and excitedly brings it back to his home, where his mom lays on the couch and rasps out a breath. The needle is still stuck in her arm, so he pulls it out and throws it away for her. 

He sits with her, hopes she’ll wake up soon so he can tell her about his day, but she never wakes up. She went silent hours ago, so he runs back to their doctor friend and brings him to the apartment. Jason doesn’t know where his mom is going when the funny men in blue return and take his mother away under a sheet. All he knows is that she isn’t coming back, so he runs away. If those men catch him, he’s not sure if he’ll ever get to return either.

No one wants to help the dirty street rat, especially when no one in the neighborhood can take care of themselves. He hopes that Batman will come. He’s seen him flying through the night, helping the needy and defeating the bad guys. Jason’s needy right now. He’s alone and scared and misses his mom, so he really hopes Batman will come.

But one man can’t save every life in the city. 

Jason finds himself crawling through the gap of a broken door in a sketchy alley. It's just big enough for his small frame to move through, and the abandoned building behind it seems warm, at least for now. At least until Batman comes. 

But Batman doesn’t come to save Jason, so he has to save himself. He steals small things here and there to make a bed and keep his belly from hurting. Yet nothing he can steal will ever be enough for his hunger to go away, and the cold air of Gotham City never seems to cease.

Two years have passed, and Jason is eleven years old. He is cold and hungry and angry, and the man who he sat and prayed would save him every night is once more flying above the streets of Gotham, not a care in the world. Jason feels wronged.

So he pulls the tire iron he keeps tucked underneath his makeshift bed and sets off to the alley Batman came from. He puts the iron to the wheel of the Batmobile, desperate to get back at the man who never came to his rescue.

A shadow looms behind him as he struggles with the lug nuts. He knows it’s Batman. He should be washed over with fear. If he were anyone else, he might, but right now, all he feels is rage. He turns, his tire iron in hand, and goes to strike.

But Batman’s hands rest on his shoulders to hold him back. Even through the gloves, Jason feels the warmth — a warmth he hasn’t known since his dad went to prison and his mom stopped playing with him.

She used to kiss his head before putting him to bed and make soup when he was home with a fever. Her hands were always so warm, just like this, and suddenly he’s crying. Wet, hot tears stream down his face as he sobs into Batman’s chest.

There’s surely snot on his suit, but Batman doesn’t leave. He wraps his arms around the boy and holds him tight. It’s warm and for the first time in a long time, Jason is safe. He feels it down to his bones and the steady melody of his heart, beating ‘safe, safe, safe.’

His anger has subsided and he’s filled with grief. He mourns his family and the home he'll never return to, the boy he couldn’t save and the one that finally will be. He’s safe, so he lets all the emotion bottled up in his tiny body out into Batman’s chest, impossibly broad and strong. No fear will make way outside of the comforting arms of his hero, and he’s okay with that. Jason, for what he’s now sure is the first time in his life, is safe.

–

Jason forcefully tears himself from the ground at the age of seventeen, six years after meeting Bruce and two removed from his untimely death. He does not know where he is or how he got here, but he knows he needs to get away. It’s surely another way the Joker has decided to torture him, and he won’t be defeated so easily. He is Robin, the partner of Batman and he should never feel scared. They are meant to make the bad guys feel scared. 

His legs are unsteady as he runs haphazardly from the hole he emerged from. His chest is burning, and he barely notices the large T-shaped scar running down his torso. He didn’t remember Joker doing that, but he also doesn’t remember being buried six feet under. 

Talia finds him first. Jason tries to lift his arms into a defensive position, but his limbs feel like jelly and instead, he finds himself falling unceremoniously into her. He feels her grab him before the world goes dark once more.

He’s awake again, and he feels like he’s drowning. He flails around, attempting to grab something, anything to pull himself out of the water. It burns against the T-shaped scar, against his lungs, and rough hands reach in to pull him upwards. They grip against his shoulders, leaving crescent-shaped marks in his flesh. The tension of the water pushes against him, trying to keep him from breaching the surface, but suddenly he’s through and air reaches down his throat against his straining lungs. 

Voices indistinctly whisper around him, muttering in a language he cannot understand, but he picks up his own name and Bruce’s. He didn’t need to know the words they were saying to know that something was deeply off.

So he bolts, his legs fighting his will to move. He’s barely made it a few feet away before he’s knocked to the rough cave floor. A foot presses in the center of his spine, and he knows no amount of adrenaline pumping through his body can push back against the weight. He’s somehow done it – made it to Hell. Maybe he’ll see his father. But maybe even the Devil couldn’t find a place for that man.

The days after tell him, surely, that’s where he is right now. Talia is there, haunting the corners of his vision. She never speaks to him, and quite frankly, he’s not sure that she’s actually real. Her skin always emanates a hazy green, just like the water they pulled him from. She could have looked that way naturally, but his scrambled memory whispers otherwise.

Sometimes, she has a shadow. Mostly, it’s indistinguishable from the other shadows dancing along the wall, but every once in a while, he feels his stomach roll looking at it. This is when the shadow looks like Bruce.

The eyes are a different color, shining with the same green he sees around Talia, but the shape of them – those are Bruce’s eyes. He had spent so many years idolizing the man, memorizing every frown line and stray gray hair. He would know this face, and especially those eyes, anywhere. But he knows it must be a trick. Bruce was too stuck in the idea of redemption, for himself and others, to end up in Hell with him.

Jason often hears screams during his waking hours. Some are anguished. Some are gargled. But the screaming only ceases for a moment before it returns with a new voice. It echoes along the walls of the cave he is being kept in, shaking the stalactite dripping in the upper right corner of his field of vision.

That’s another thing – his head remains in the same position day and night. His arms are pinned to his sides and his ankles tied. They haven’t tortured him yet, but whatever demons are bringing those screams to his ears will come to him soon. He has no doubt regarding that, but he can’t be sure who’s face he’ll see above him next.

He hopes it isn’t Dick. He doesn’t think he can survive damnation with his brother’s disappointed eyes staring back at him. Jason knew, no matter what good he did as Robin, this is where he was supposed to end, but Dick never accepted that. He had that same fixation on redemption as their adoptive father, but with a warmth Bruce could never have. Dick made Jason feel like even he deserved a second chance.

Talia comes by the next day, and he knows the moment he sees the bowl in her hands, that he isn’t dead like he thought. He wasn’t lucky enough for that. Instead, he is damned to the clutches of Talia Al Ghul and a bowl of broth. It sits like lead on his stomach as she force feeds him, chiding him for fighting her iron grip on his jaw. He’s sure that at times he did hallucinate her presence, but this time, she is real. Terribly real and dripping with ill intent.

Her shadow takes form now, and he wants to cry when Bruce’s face stares back at him once more. His face is much younger and his skin a deep tan, and there is no care behind these cold green eyes. In fact, he cannot see anything but malice. He feels ashamed to be looked at this way with Bruce’s face. Has Bruce decided to abandon him just like his father?

The voice that comes from this mouth is different, however, and confusion begins swirling with the shame. This voice is high-pitched and no doubt that of a child’s. It tells him, in the same smooth way Talia speaks, that he is a fraud and “Baba was right to leave him to die.”

The rest of its speech returns to what he now realizes is Arabic, but the words won’t translate in his head. All he hears is that one sentence, over and over. Why was Bruce speaking this way? He would never want to see him die. 

Right?

Jason’s spirit falls further, despite it having already hit rock bottom days ago, but the shame and confusion now build into anger. He fights against his restraints, knocking the remnants of his meal to the floor. Talia tries to calm him, firmly pressing him back against the seat. He tries to move his head to bite her but to no avail; it’s firmly held by a thick leather strip.

He spits at her instead. 

Her face contorts in anger, cheeks flushing red, and she begins berating him. She’s screaming, “What a pathetic little ‘boy wonder!’ You don’t seem to understand the circumstances of your situation.” He stops thrashing around, and her face returns to her usual sultry smile. “Bruce left you to die. When the Joker kidnapped and tortured you, Bruce took his sweet time coming to ‘save’ you. The one man in the world you thought loved you left you to die and buried your body in a shallow grave.”

Jason attempts to shake his head before realizing he’s still trapped.

“Oh, yes. It’s tragic, really. But that’s when I came to save you.”

Talia began to strut across the length of the thin cave.

“See, the world had a little shift that brought a few people back to the living world, you being one of them, but it had some unexpected issues. Your body had already partially decomposed, and you would have never made it off of that mountain without me. I brought you to my home, finished reviving you in the Lazarus Pit, and nursed you back to health. I even brought your baby brother to see you.”

Jason is fumbling out a barely intelligible, “My brother…?”

His eyes trace to the figure now hanging from the ceiling. It’s Bruce, or maybe not. He isn’t sure until the boy speaks. “Damian Al Ghul, the blood son of Batman.”

–

Jason spends the better part of a year recovering and regaining his stamina. It turns out, being revived in the Lazarus Pit is not as easy as Ra’s Al Ghul makes it seem. He learns how to walk for the second in his life before building his motor function back to what it used to be. For the most part, he’s in better shape than he had been before his death, but he’s still only seventeen. He thinks he has been seventeen longer than he should have.

He tries to wear clothing that hides his autopsy scar, and gloves to cover his scarred knuckles. He doesn’t remember where these come from, but he can make some educated guesses. The one thing he can’t seem to hide, though, is the big shock of white that now stained his fringe. The rest of his hair has grown back to his natural ginger, something he used to dye black to match Bruce.

The brother Jason never knew about suddenly tails him everywhere. He’s silent mostly, only speaking to criticize his fighting form. His entire demeanor deceives the fact that he is only seven years old.

And Jason mutters, “I thought my childhood had been screwed up.”

Sometimes, they sit in a room together reading, and Damian asks him about his father. Jason says good things, at first, but as time goes on, he finds he only has angry words to spit about him. The man had abandoned Jason, and now he is abandoning Damian, too. Damian eventually stops asking, sated to sit in silence while they read Shakespeare’s plays. 

Jason finds that it only makes him resent Bruce more. 

They train together, and eventually Jason is able to brute force his brother into submission during spars. He likes that he now retains muscle mass. His lanky youth had held back any hope of being strong. Damian begins to undergo his own growth spurt, as well. 

But their repetitive schedule suddenly comes to an abrupt end when Jason hears of the one thing he dreads most: Batman’s newest Robin. Apparently, the boy appeared on the scene not long after Jason’s death day and was becoming a real concern amongst the League.

Jason leaves without a plan, pushed onward by rage and embarrassment. He doesn’t know what he will do when he arrives in Gotham, but he knows Bruce like the back of his hand and has no doubt he’ll find him. Combined with a healthy stack of guns and ammunition, he could do whatever he wanted. He can get revenge, or he can even take back what is rightfully his.

The fight is a blur. He remembers yelling at Bruce for abandoning him, for never seeking revenge. He doesn’t understand why reformation and revenge can’t co-exist. Bruce is crying underneath the cowl. He hurts the new Robin. He shoots at Dick. Bruce is on the ground.

And he wakes up in his old bed. Not the one in the mansion or the apartment. No, it’s the one he slept in when he was nothing more than a poor orphan on the streets. It’s just as cold as he remembers. 

–

Jason spends the next two years making life miserable for Bruce just to spite him. Dick comes to visit him sometimes, usually finding him in the alleyways of Gotham. He tries to talk, brings along meals from Alfred, and Jason walks away from him every time.

He sees the new Robin darting across the night sky. Dick says his name is Tim, and Jason laughs. He’s not sure what is so funny, but he finds he can’t stop. The laughter makes anger bubble in his throat. He cuts Tim’s line that night, and watches him fall before Bruce swings through to save him. That only makes Jason angrier.

He starts wearing a helmet, red like fresh blood, and takes on Joker’s original identity – Red Hood. It’s ironic, becoming the person who ruined his life. But he sees how it makes Bruce’s skin crawl, and decides he likes the name.

Most nights he only commits petty crimes. On nights when the nightmares seem to consume him, he turns to felonies. He particularly likes theft and arson.

Sometimes, when he becomes annoyed with Dick, he dons a makeshift Nightwing costume, and dumps a herd of criminals on the front steps of the police station. He likes to do good things, too, but he truly does it to see how much it frustrates his brother. He knows Dick can’t say anything because Jason is being a hero again, but Nightwing was never meant for anyone else to wear. He knows it was meant to be a slight at Bruce. It was supposed to empower Dick. But now, it’s empowering Jason instead. Dick struggles to stifle his anger.

Jason enjoys his time in the dark belly of Gotham, but he misses his family some nights. Those are the cold and lonely ones, when no amount of fire can make up for the fact that he’s nineteen years old. Nineteen year olds aren’t supposed to be crime lords. Nineteen year olds aren’t supposed to live in alleyways and a rotating chain of safe houses.

He never sleeps in the same place for more than a few days at a time, and he begins to miss the monotony of the mansion. He misses warm meals that weren’t made in a stolen microwave. He misses the things that made him gentle. He misses a time when he didn’t have to feel so angry. He misses Bruce, but he would never say any of this aloud.

His tipping point comes sneaking up on him one night. No formal announcement was made – it never was – that a new Robin was on the scene, but Jason knew the moment this child took his first step out of the cave.

It was Damian, his baby brother, here to finally claim his birthright. The traitor.

And now even he looks at Jason with disappointment. He can’t take it. But he’s suddenly falling into madness the moment the words leave Bruce’s mouth.

“Jason, you were my biggest regret.”

The rest of his speech becomes white noise and red hot anger. There is fighting and blood, and even though Tim stops being the Robin, he is now Red Robin . That’s all the justification Jason needs to beat his face in. He plans to return for Damian another day. Then, Dick. And he wants Bruce to see every single time. He wants to show him what it really means to regret something.

Bruce disappears a few months later. Jason sees it as an opportunity. 

His costume is not nearly as high tech as Bruce’s was, but he only really needs the impression of Batman to pull it off. He doesn’t have it. All he gets in return is a set of handcuffs and a trip to Arkham. He had taken so many things from Dick; he supposes it was time he had to give something up.

He tries to count the days he’s been locked up, wonders if this is where they used to keep his father, but he loses track. The time blurs together. At some point, he makes friends with Harley Quinn. They share the burden of having been traumatized by the same men. She sneaks him an extra pillow, claiming that death always gives people a stiff neck. He doesn’t laugh as hard as she does.

When his mood sours, she plays therapist, finally putting her doctorate to good use. She does a decent job, he thinks, and some days, he almost thinks he can forgive Bruce. But then Bruce Wayne returns, and the anger with it.

He says he doesn’t care. Harley knows it is a lie, but she doesn’t dain to say it aloud. She just sneaks him an extra pudding cup that night. Jason cries.

When Bruce appears in his cell the next day, he ignores him, chalking it up to a bit of pit madness. He doesn’t believe that Bruce will ever look at him with those kind eyes again, but he steals glances at the delusion anyways. They sit in silence, and Jason is thankful that his mind isn’t so far gone as to start hearing voices.

Imaginary Bruce returns day after day, sitting in the same rusty chair in the corner of Jason’s cell. Eventually, Jason starts letting himself look at him, and then he’s yelling at him. He curses at him for having given up on him. He pounds his fist on the cell wall, screaming, and Imaginary Bruce stares back at him with a sad smile.

One day, Bruce stops being imaginary. He places a calloused hand on Jason’s shoulder, their eyes meet for just a moment, and everything comes pouring out. Jason cries, tearing at Bruce’s clothes in a desperate attempt to crawl into his arms. He wants to feel safe again. He wants to be eleven years old and do it all over again. He would do it right this time. He would become Batman’s pride instead of a symbol of his greatest regret. This time, Jason could be Bruce’s real son.

[batzcrazy]

thank u for answering the other ask!!! what’s ur thots on a casual day spent with jason? :)

hello! ended up writing a little something for this^^ sorry that it's a bit later than intended

warnings: injury mentions, cheeky jason, cheesy stuff

short hcs to share first

pulls up whenever he feels like it tbh

hes considerate of your time and space but sometimes he does feel like just being around you so . his need for company wins

always tries to bring you something he thinks you'd like

(it's either sweet and sentimental or the stupidest thing you've ever seen because he thought it was really fucking funny)

sprawls out like he lives there and tbh he sort of does

it's weird how him being there enhances the environment? like he belongs there all the time

even when he's covered in the worst injuries you've seen in awhile (and you live in gotham so ??)

he doesn't necessarily like coming by when he's injured but sometimes he's gotta do it

and your presence is comforting so he feels less like he's about to throw up

enjoys a variety of things (never shares because why would he? but it's nice to think that you'd know what he likes if no one else)

a little something i did (please excuse any mistakes i wrote this at 4am)

-

Jason graces your apartment with his presence in the afternoon; 2pm on a Sunday. It's a change to his usual night drop ins, but you find you don't mind.

Especially since he's shown up in sweatpants, sneakers, and a loose hoodie.

"Hey there sunshine," He says, already crossing the living room and dropping a plastic bag on the coffee table. "Brought you something. Thought you might like it."

"Hey yourself Todd," You say, nudging his knee with your foot. It's your odd way of greeting him. He nudges your foot back. "What is it?"

"It's a surprise!"

"Todd."

You've never really been one for his surprises. Particularly the ones that start with him half dead at your doorstep and end with him passed out on your bed to sleep off the pain.

You'd find blood and dirt in the tiles of your bathroom for days and would be immediately reminded of the way he'd softly groan when you swiped a little too hard at a cut.

"Sorry," You'd say, at least 20 times.

" 'S fine doll." He'd mumble back, a little more asleep than the last 20 times he's said it.

But anyway, before he disappears somewhere into your apartment, he leans over to press a kiss to your lips, humming softly when you cup his cheeks. His stomach is warm and his head is spinning with a new emotion.

"Just check it out!"

Reaching into the bag, you find items probably stolen from the batcave. Under that, you find donuts from the little shop downtown. They're Justice League themed.

"...Really?"

Jason pops his head in, grinning, "Yeah, I thought they looked funny."

You frown, picking up a bat shaped Something. "No, not those. This?"

He only laughs, taking it from you and spinning it between his fingers, "Cool, right?" He pauses, lips forming a soft pout. "Wanna watch Mean Girls?"

You squint your eyes and click your tongue at the smirk on his face. "Todd."

"I'll return them!" He can't fight the way the corners of his lips quirk up when you glare at him. "Probably. He won't notice anyway. So what do you say, hm?"

He kisses your nose, your cheek, the corner of your eyes, your forehead, in a feverish way; Like he can't get enough (and that would be true).

"Fine," You relent, between kisses. "Jason, I said okay!"

"Yeah," He mumbles, kissing you a little harder each time than the last. "I know, just one more."

One more turns into five more, which turns into ten more, which turns into no more Mean Girls for at least an hour or so.