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prongsx · 3 months ago

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we are not children anymore, honey.

warning: swearing, a bit insinuating, f!reader, fluff.

where jason needs to remind you that you're not kids anymore and teasing him isn't the same anymore.

1,8k words

You met Jason Todd when you were both innocent children, well, as innocent as the crime alley allowed. He was your best friend, most of the scars he had back then were from picking fights with anyone who raised their voice at you, anyone who tried to sell you drugs or tried to be aggressive with you.

You had an easy body language, both of you touched each other often and played the usual games that children do, physical touch was never a distant thing.

You secretly had a crush on that somewhat reckless and smiling boy who protected you, always holding your hand. Maybe in the back of your mind you thought that one day you would get married.

At the time, he was a little shorter than you, a fact that deeply irritated him but made you laugh. Then he was adopted by Bruce Wayne and you thought that would be the end of your friendship, but there seemed to be a thread that connected you, not even taking on the mantle of Robin could separate you.

Then Jason was taken from you in the most abrupt way possible, by the hands of death itself. But not even that which seemed inescapable separated you for long, the grief that consumed you could have destroyed you, but something in your mind repeated that Jason would never leave you alone.

When Jason appeared at your door, years later, his blue eyes looking haunted, you cried, something in your heart that was dead seemed to come out of the ground in the same way as your best friend.

At first, you simply didn't know what to do with this new Jason, he himself seemed a little lost, the well had affected his emotions. He took up more space, his arms and hands were bigger. Doubts consumed you, afraid of never rescuing the old bond, but then you bought your old favorite cookie and he smiled at you.

That dimpled smile, which lit up his blue eyes and seemed to bring a reckless air to him. And you decided right then and there that nothing would stop you from being his best friend again.

The thing was that your friendship was based on a time when you were both younger and more naive, feelings were simpler. Jason died before you could be friends during that strange time in your adolescence when touching your friend seemed strange, the only memory your body had of your friendship with Jason was a sticky friendship.

"Only you could make me go to the other side of town to get that damn donut that tasted like paper." Jason grumbles, closing the latch on your window as he moves his huge body into your living room. At that moment, you feel the room shrink, and it feels like any false move will betray your racing heart as you watch Jason remove his helmet, his black curls messy in a cute way.

"They're great." You hum, reaching out to take the package from Jason.

"Seriously, there are so many bakeries with better donuts." He retorts, crossing his arms, drawing your attention to the outline of his biceps in his skintight uniform.

"The best isn't always going to be the tastiest."

Jason rolls his eyes at your completely nonsensical choice of words, flopping his tired body on the couch next to you.

"Jason, did you just sit on my couch in your dirty patrol gear?"

"Sweetie, I just walked halfway through this shitty city looking for that donut. I have a right to dirty your precious couch."

You let out a grunt, knowing he's right. He has the right, but that doesn't stop you from lightly pinching the side of his hip, where his suit had a layer of fabric.

He doesn't even blink at your attitude, his hands holding your wrist, his long fingers holding it as delicately as was allowed.

"I thought you gave up trying to play fight with me," he whispers, his voice heavy with that accent that makes your legs a little weak.

You shrug, your body approaching him almost as a reflex, your knee touching his. It's kind of annoying how much bigger he's gotten than you, and stronger. Much stronger, you know he could flip you over with a single hand and honestly the thought is more exciting than you want to admit.

"Sweet thing?" He calls to you, still with that sly smile on his lips. You blink slowly, coming back to reality.

"Hmm?"

"Aren't you going to eat your delicious donut?"

"Yes. Yes." You say, nodding.

If before you thought Jason was cute, now you could write ridiculous poems about him, two stanzas just about his sapphire eyes.

He snuggled deeper into your couch, spreading his thighs and letting out a sigh of relief at the comfort.

"Tiring patrol?" He opened his eyes when he felt your hands lightly pinching his nose, trying to make him pay attention to you again. You would never admit it out loud, but having Jason's undivided attention was kind of addictive and intoxicating.

"You could say that."

You dropped the donuts on the living room table, suddenly feeling guilty. Even though it was just him teasing you, the store that sold your favorite donuts was really far away.

"I'm sorry I made you take my stupid donuts." He let out a breath when you rested your chin on his shoulder, staring at him from under your eyelashes.

"No. I don't forgive you." He teased, his hands going down to your waist and drawing circles there.

"Seriously, I was selfish." You repeat, looking down at the red bat symbol on his chest.

His blue eyes continued to stare at you, his hands coming up and lightly holding your chin, his eyebrows furrowed. Jason never accepted it when you seemed sad towards him, or when you made it seem like you were a hindrance in his life.

"Stop that shit."

A laugh escaped through your nostrils.

"You still have such a dirty mouth, Todd. My mother still blames you for the variety of curses I know."

He laughed, the sound going straight to your stomach. It should be forbidden for someone to have such a delightful laugh to hear. Jason wasn't as much of a laugh now as he used to be when he was a child, his innocence had been taken away from him years ago, so you drank every drop of his laughter you could.

"Well, I blame you every time I act stupid. We're even."

You reached your hands up to his hair and pulled lightly, like you used to do when you wanted to get back at him when you were kids. But this time, he didn't laugh you away or flick you in retaliation. His lips curved into a thin line and his eyes blinked so fast you thought you'd imagined it.

"Sweetie." Jason's voice was low, the nickname sending an electric shock through your body. "We're not kids anymore."

"You're still just as annoying." You joked, praying he wouldn't notice the slight crack in your voice.

"No, sweet thing, you didn't understand what I meant." He said, his blue eyes staring straight into your face. His hands moved down to your hips, pulling you closer to him, your legs almost resting on his thigh. "I'm saying we're not kids anymore." He repeated.

"Yes. I obviously know that."

He let out a long sigh, as if you were irritating him with your stupidity.

His slightly chapped lips parted as he said something that you were momentarily lost in, your hands resting on his muscular thigh. He gripped your chin tighter when he noticed your inattention and felt your hand on his thigh.

"See? That's what I'm saying." He let out a laugh that wasn't like before, it wasn't genuine and open-hearted, it was low and had a feeling you couldn't quite grasp. "You keep touching me and teasing me like we're children."

"I can stop." You stammered, very confused and feeling a little dizzy. This new Jason Todd, with more scars and less shyness, was making your throat suddenly close up.

"You're not supposed to stop." He whispered, his other hand coming back to grab the back of your neck and pull your faces so close you could feel his warm breath. "Just letting you know that now, when you lie on top of me and stare at me like that, my first thought isn't to play fight with you, darling." His hand squeezed your chin lightly as he added, his voice lower, "When you stare at me like that, all I think about is kissing you stupid."

Forming words seemed harder than ever.

"Ah."

"Ah," he mimicked you in a thin voice, a goofy smile on his face, his grip on your chin bringing your lips close to his. "I say I want to make you sigh my name and that's all you have to say?"

You clear your throat, your eyelashes fluttering slightly. The hand resting on his thigh makes an involuntary movement to lightly squeeze the muscle there. Jason's blue eyes darken, a noise close to a growl leaving his lips.

"You keep doing these things. Fuck, baby, every time you almost climb on my lap like it's nothing." He took a deep breath, as if he was losing his mind, closing his eyes so as not to get lost in his own thoughts. "You must know what you're doing to me."

"No. I. No." You repeated, still very overwhelmed by how close you were. Your best friend, staring at you like he was about to destroy you.

He smiled again at your mental confusion, brushing his lips against yours and letting out a low moan that made you gasp. "Let me kiss you, please?"

You nodded, crashing your lips against his before you had to beg for it. Jason's lips were rough against yours, as if he was punishing you for making him wait, for making him yearn for this.

Jason's ability to focus on multitasking was evident when he pulled you to sit fully on his lap, without separating your lips, his hands moving up and down your body, swallowing the small moans that came out of your mouth.

"I think I've already thought of a way for you to pay for your stupid donuts," he whispered, pulling your lips away for a few seconds to smile at you.

You laughed, feeling lighter than you had in years. Your hands cupped his face, caressing his cheek. There were so many questions and doubts swirling around your mind, but Jason pulled you into a hug, kissing your forehead.

"Honey, it took you a long time to realize that you're mine. Just relax."

You blinked away the tears, hiding your face in the crook of his neck, a genuine smile on your lips.

Your best friend was in love with you too, and everything would be okay.

I hope you liked it, sorry for the mistakes, I need to review all my works. My epub box is open, I just want to write more for Jason!! I'm stupid for him. And I'll be dying on the hill that Jason Todd has a dirty mouth. I'm trying to write for a gender-neutral reader but I've discovered that I have difficulty, I'm sorry, but I'll keep trying.

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #batfamily #fluff #dc comics #fanfic

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corkinavoid · 3 months ago

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DPxDC Al Ghul Twins: the Sun and the Moon

Polar opposites of each other, the Demon Twins. They like to pretend as each other from time to time, or, other times, they like acting perfectly in sync, like the creepy horror twins they are.

The titles first start when someone calls Danny the Shadow of the Moon. Never seen, never noticed, never given much thought until suddenly it's too late. Danny laughs and says that Damian is the Moon, then - his Moon, always orbiting around. Damian rolls his eyes.

Over time, the titles change and shift, gaining more meaning. More weight behind them.

When Talia introduces Bruce to the twins, she calls them her Sun and Moon. Bruce mentions it to the rest of the kids once, and they adopt it. It seems logical, really.

Danny, the Sun, smiling and laughing, eager for affection and never one to back down from hugs. Damian, the Moon, distant and reserved, keeping to himself and cold at times.

It's only months later, when they mention it in Jason's presence, that he laughs at them.

They have it all wrong, as it turns out. Not only because the titles have nothing to do with the twins' characters.

The Sun, fierce, bright and unrelenting, the heat that will wear you down to exhaustion, the fire and flames of rage, the star that everything centers around. The mirage in the desert, the power that bows to no one, never to be ignored.

The Moon, distant, cold, and unassuming, the pull of the tide, the only light in the darkness, causing shadows to seem so much darker, the harbinger of nightmares. The faint presence in the evening skies, the howl of a wolf, the influence you can easily ignore until suddenly you can't afford to.

Damian, the Sun, rash and quick to act on impulse, leaving a burning path in his wake. Danny, the Moon, silent and almost gentle, who you won't notice until it's too late.

Consider yourself lucky if you are left with only a scorch when you come too close to the Sun because he can, and he will burn you to ashes if he desires. But with the Moon, you are in luck if he kills you. Because when he doesn't, the shadows creep closer, crawling behind your back, and you keep looking around, knowing that the strike will come but not knowing when.

Danny laughs, quips, and plays pranks, but his eyes are cold like the lake frozen solid. Damian scolds, clicks his tongue, and brushes you off, but his eyes are full of fire that never dies out.

Talia's eyes are dark and full of secrets, like she herself is full of carefully wrapped lies and dark corners. The Demon Twins call her their Sky: vast and unknown, charming and stealing your breath away until there's no air in your lungs and the stars dim before your eyes.

A few years pass, and Tim catches Danny referring to Bats as their Stars. He thinks it's because there's so many of them that the twins just decided to summarize the titles, but much later, he learns that the meaning is a lot more poetic.

The light that guides you through the night, which, unlike the moon, never goes away.

#danny phantom #dc x dp #dpxdc #batfam #batman #damian al ghul #talia al ghul #danyal al ghul #listen ive had fun with metaphors #al ghul twins #sun and moon #you know those sun-core and moon-core characters #that #but better #cork writes #cork prompts

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deadsetobsessions · 4 months ago

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Danny hadn't ever been on this side of the equation before.

He stared at his old phone, the prickle of unease scratching at his neck.

Danny was the one that died. He was the one that died and came back. He'd never asked anyone how it had felt to see him die over and over again to become Phantom. Danny was starting to think that maybe he should have, if only so that he wouldn't be blindsided about what he felt now.

"Danny? Y'okay?"

Danny glanced up at the mumbled words, numbed eyes looking at Jason's sleep-heavy face.

"Hm?"

"Ya've been lookin' at that thing for an hour now. You good?"

Danny blinked at him, like the world was a sea of bittersweet molasses and he was the sailor drowning beneath its waves. "...Remember how I told you that you reminded me of my sister?"

There was apprehension on Jason's face now. It was a gentle kind of apprehension, softened by worry and love.

“Yeah…?”

Danny gestured for Jason to come closer. He opened the phone and tapped on Jazz.

“Woah. She kinda looks like me.” Jason tugged at his black hair. “Y’know, if I kept my red hair.”

Danny smiled, sad and tired. “Yeah. She really liked reading. And she always wanted to know more. Help more. Like you,” Danny’s eyes laid on the folded uniform of Robin on the kitchen table. He hugged Jason closer. “You remind me of her.”

“What… what happened to her?”

Danny hadn’t cried for a long, long time. Even when Jazz spoke to him in half remembered whispers and in Jason’s actions, he could not shed a tear. But something about today, something about those pictures, opened up a poorly scabbed wound and Danny’s face dripped with slow tears.

“She died,” he whispered. “I brought the vigilante life to her and she died protecting me.”

“Oh. That’s why you were so mad, then.” Jason looked down at the picture, blue eyes tracing the face of the woman that looked so similar to him.

“Yeah.”

“I won’t die, Danny,” Jason promised.

"Don't make promises you can't keep, Jay." Danny squeezed Jason's shoulders before wiping away his tears. He inhaled, a slow, shuddering breath, before straightening. "You are so grounded."

"But- Robin!"

"Jason will always come before Robin. And Jason is grounded because Jason lied to me about being Robin and where he was going and whether or not he was safe."

And really, wasn't that the crux of the issue? Danny didn't have any problem with Jason going out and starting fights. He had no problem with how Jason wanted to help. But the thought of loosing him- loosing his loved ones after only learning to keep them clutched to his heart before he looses them- drove Danny down a spiral that he could not afford to enter again.

How many times had Danny almost lose Jason? How many times did he come to loosing the only good thing in Gotham? How many times had he laid asleep, not knowing whether Jason was bleeding out in an alley somewhere? How close had Danny come to waking up to news of Jason's cold corpse?

It made him furious. More than that, it made him terrified. Never in his half life had he ever been afraid to this extent. Not even for Jazz. It made him want to drown the feeling with enough booze to down a speedster. But he couldn't. Not now, not with Jason. His little brother deserved better than that. Not to mention the shit his little brother would get up to if he weren't fully there.

"But first, you gotta help me with something."

"... Fine."

Danny got up and bee-lined towards his booze stash. They're going out. Right now. He shoved the bottles into a tote bag.

"Let's go. We're destroying this."

"We are?"

"I can't be drunk and teach you how to vigilante."

"You're okay with me being Robin?" Hesitant blue eyes peered up at him. Danny's heart melted, the traitorous little shit.

"Not really. But I can't stop you, so I might as well make sure you live past 25." He jabbed Jason's forehead. "And I'll be reaming out Batman the next time he swings by, now that I'm not pissed as hell. I'll make sure it hurts."

"He's not that bad."

Danny sent him an unimpressed look and Jason mimed zipping his mouth closed, twisiting an imaginary key and throwing it over his shoulder. The little shit thinks he's got jokes. (He does, but Danny's supposed to be mad with him right now, so he'll never admit he thinks Jason's funny.)

They walked out of the apartment complex and turned to the right, right into the alley.

Did his heart give a little twinge every time Jason tossed the booze? Yes. But the hopeful thrill in his little brother's countenance made up for every single penny he spent.

"So... How long am I grounded for?"

At the reminder, Danny's hands clamped around one of the last bottles a little harsher than necessary.

"You... are grounded for- till college." He gritted out, tossing the bottle.

Jason's horrified "For- till college?!" rang nicely against the shattering of Danny's booze. Danny grinned and gave Jason a noogie.

"For till college," He affirmed, joking tone making Jason grumble, struggling to get out of the hold. "Or, for like, a week."

---

"Hey, Danny?"

Danny grunted, rousing slightly from his nap on the couch. They had been watching a show in the middle of Jason's grounding when he had drifted off.

"Did I ever tell you I had a brother?"

Danny's eyes flew open. "... No. Do you want to?"

Danny swiveled his head to look at Jason, who sat with his back against the couch and his head set aglow by the light of the TV. He looked... sad. Lonely.

"His name was Danny too."

Danny's heart shot right up to his throat. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. He died." Danny couldn't help the thought that passed him. Me too, buddy, me too. "I thought you were him. 'S why I talked ta ya, even if y're drinkin'."

Danny tilted his head back, silently closing his eyes in grief. It was fate, that wily Ancient.

"Is that... bad?"

"Nah. You're as good a brother as he was."

"Thank you for telling me, Jason."

"Whatever."

Danny laid back down, the thread of a memory all but confirming his theory.

"Come on, Danny-o, Jazz was being a good sister!"

Five year old Danny pulled the blanket up to his chin, pouting. His mother laughed.

"That's right, sweetie. She was trying to make sure you didn't get sick."

"I don't want Jazz! I want- I want a brother instead!"

His parents exchanged amused looks. "Well, Danny-o, you almost had a brother."

"Really?" Danny turned around, curious.

"Really. If Jazz was a boy, we would have named him Jason!" His dad laughed, ruffling his hair.

Danny wrinkled his nose. "Ew. I like Jazz better... oh."

#danny phantom #batman #dcxdp #dpxdc #alley drunk! danny au

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mostly-imagines · 4 months ago

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I Missed My Funeral

jason todd x reader

aka you learn what happened to jason

warnings: detailed discussion of how jason died, this is not so happy but i can promise you my jason angst will always have comfort

You wonder if your nightmares are accurate.

Your brain is probably just conjuring up every worst case scenario it can fathom, but maybe there’s truth to one of them. You hope not.

It’s something you haven’t been able to keep out of your mind these past few weeks, and everything seems to remind you of it. When you see his guns, when you’re using a knife to cut up dinner, when you see a car crash on the news, or even when you walk past a fucking pharmacy. The thoughts are everywhere, all the time.

Even as you lay in bed, head on his chest, your mind keeps on drifting where you wish it wouldn’t.

You know he died. He never said it out loud, but you’d seen his autopsy scar plenty of times. You’d always refrained from asking questions, he seemed nervous enough the first handful of times he was around you with his shirt off. Enough time has passed that he’s comfortable being shirtless around you, even okay when you touch his chest. The decrease in boundaries has granted you more solace in one another, but it’s also caused your mind to go wild with possibilities.

Even now, as you lie against his bare chest, you can’t keep your cat-killing thoughts away.

“You’re being quiet,” He comments, not accusatory, just factual.

You snap out of reverie, “Sorry, I—”

His hand soothes up and down your arm without pause, “Don’t be sorry. What’s going on?”

“I just…” you look down, thinking over your words. “What…what happened to you?” You ask quietly.

He goes still.

You immediately regret bringing it up, sitting up from his chest to meet his eyes, “I’m sorry, I don’t need to—”

He shakes his head. The slightest response from him shuts you right up. “No, it’s…it’s okay. Probably should’ve said something by now.”

He nudges your head back down to his chest and you oblige, trying to relax your body against him again. It’s a difficult thing to talk yourself into when his isn’t any more relaxed.

“I…you know I used to be Robin?” His voice is low, hesitant.

You nod.

“Well…I made a mistake—a few mistakes. I wasn’t as careful as I should’ve been and I walked into a trap.”

You’re sure he’s placing more blame on himself than he should, though you don’t know enough to fight him on it yet. You wrap your hand around his forearm that drapes across your chest, a silent affirmation that you’re here with nothing but support and reassurance.

His breath stutters, “The, uh…the Joker set me up and…well, he killed me.”

You don’t want to ask how. You don’t want to know how. But you feel like you have to and it’s selfish and you know that but you can’t leave just it at that.

It’s a barely audible whisper. You’re not even sure Jason could fully hear the word, but he understands the intent anyway.

His next exhale is shaky, “Yeah, um, that’s the rough part.”

Your head twitches. “That’s the rough part?” You breathe out, scared to hear what’s next.

You can’t see from this angle, but Jason’s eyes are welling over, trying desperately not to let tears fall. It takes him a moment to prepare himself to verbalize the next part.

“He…he be—” he stops himself. “…He hit me with a crowbar. A lot.”

Oh.

You can physically feel your chest sink.

That’s worse than all the horrifying scenarios you’d built up in your head. That’s…he was beaten to death. For trying to help people.

You don’t want to leave him in the silence for too long, so you ask the only thing you can think to.

“How old were you?”

He drops his head to press his mouth against your head, like he’s trying to ground himself. “Fifteen,” He murmurs into your hair.

Oh.

You flip over so you’re chest to chest with him and hold him tight. “I’m sorry.”

He wasn’t expecting you to say that. The very very few times he’s had anything even remotely relating to this conversation, the revelation is always met by silence. Or worse.

But you’re sorry. No one’s ever said that to him before. About anything, but especially this. What does sorry even mean in this context? You didn’t do anything, are you sorry for asking? Do you…do you feel bad for him?

He swallows hard, “You’re sorry?”

“Yeah,” You say, furrowing your brow. “You’re a good person, Jay. You’re a really good person and…you didn’t deserve any of the shit that happened to you. Especially that. I hate that you’ve been through so much and I’m sorry.”

He refuses to blink but the tears are threatening to win anyways with nowhere else to go.

He shakes his head weakly, “It was my own fault.”

“Jason,” you say seriously. “It was not your fault. You were trying to help someone, weren’t you?”

It takes him a moment to respond to that. “I—yeah. Yes. My mom. My birth mom.” He takes a breath, “He, uh, he was blackmailing her and I tried to help her—I tried. But she gave me up to try and save herself…it didn’t matter in the end.”

While you didn’t know about the history with his birth mom, you’d been sure he’d died helping someone. That’s just who he is—whether he knows it or not.

“There was a bomb and it…” He lets that bit trail off. “I don’t remember the explosion. I think I passed out before it happened.”

He doesn’t remember the explosion. But…

He does remember the other part.

You have to drop your head into his neck so that he doesn’t see the way your eyes well up.

“Please know you’re a good person. Please,” you plead. “You’re the best person I know.”

“But…” his breath comes out shaky, “No one…no one did anything.”

The tears fall now, and in spite of the fact that he hasn’t let himself cry in front of anyone since he was ten, he doesn’t feel the usual burning impulse to hide. Not from you.

His voice breaks as he says, “He killed me and he didn’t…”

You sit up straight again and hold his face in your hands, looking him in the eye. “That’s not your fault. Whatever Bruce did or didn’t do, it has nothing to do with you. It’s all about him.”

You gently wipe his tears with your thumb as the weight of his head drops forward, leaving your touch the only thing holding him up.

You know he has…problems with Bruce. You know his death is a sore subject among them for more reasons than the obvious. You also know the Joker still lives and breathes today and there’s some sort of rule or agreement that Jason isn’t allowed out on patrol when he’s loose.

There’s clear trust issues there, on both sides, but you’ve always had trouble figuring out what exactly Bruce had done to leave Jason so closed off. It pushed him away from his family and caused potentially irreparable scarring to his ability to trust other people. It actually makes a lot of sense that this is what caused the rift between them—you’d been thinking maybe Bruce was the reason Jason died or he couldn’t stop it, but this…this is a different kind of damaging. Fuck, no wonder Jason feels like he doesn’t belong in his family.

You take a heavy breath, “You’re important. You’re important to me and whatever moral roadblocks Bruce couldn’t get over doesn’t change that—it has nothing to do with how good you are.”

You’re definitely crying now but at this point it doesn’t matter. It’s more important for him to hear this than for you to pretend like this isn’t as horrible as it is.

He doesn’t look up at you but you can see his own tears dripping off his face. You don’t see him cry very much at all, and definitely not like this.

You sniffle, “Do you wanna switch?”

He nods against your palms and lets you out of his hold to sit up as he shifts lower on the bed and wraps his arms around your torso. You weave one of your hands in his hair and stroke softly. The other rubs soothing patterns on his back, feeling the heaviness of his breath under it.

You kiss the top of his head, “I love you. So much.”

He holds you tighter, murmuring “I love you,” into your chest.

It’s quiet for several minutes after as you both process the words said.

You’re the first to pipe up again, “How did…”

He exhales, “Ah…it’s a little complicated…”

He wants to talk about it another time. That’s fine by you.

Another silent minute passes before, “Bruce isn’t…he’s not a bad…we had a lot of problems after I came back. Both of us. Took a while to get over ‘em.” There’s a beat before, “Still getting over ‘em.”

You nod, continuing tracing onto his back. His voice is clearer again, stronger.

“Is that why you don’t like being at the batcave?” you ask.

“No,” he murmurs. “It’s ‘cause he keeps the suit on display.”

You look down at him, frowning. “What suit?”

“The robin suit.”

You pause.

“That robin suit?”

He nods.

…what

for clarification bc i think i thought this was canon oh well

🔮🕯️the reblog witch bids you do her bidding 🕯️🔮

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sanguineterrain · 11 months ago

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Jason is definitely the type to go feral over his best friend he hasn't seen in years. Hear me out: he's alive again, and not only that, but he's huge. Strong. People are afraid of him. So the reader is in town, walking the streets, and they meet again, maybe when he protects them as Hood. And reader is ecstatic to see Jason again of course and he's the same but also, all he can think is minemineminemine and I WANT YOU. mans is down horrendous for his sweet best friend that he missed and he's been in love with them for so long and now that he has them, he's not giving them up

idk if this was a prompt but i got inspired <3 thanks for stopping by anon

jason todd x gn!reader. feral jason i guess, but really soft jason. jason who yearns to be yours. jason who'd do anything for it, even if it meant one sided devotion... and also, jason who is loved by you. 1.2k words

****

"I don't understand why you can't come to my apartment."

"I told you why." Jason's posture is rigid but his tone is gentle. Because he has told you why he won't enter your home. Multiple times. Doesn't mean you don't challenge it every time you meet him on a random rooftop.

"It would be fine, Jay," you say. "I trust you."

"I know. But I don't trust everybody else," he says, words crackling through his modulator. That had frightened you at first; in fact, everything about a newly-resurrected Jason Todd had frightened you. From his height to the guns, you'd been sure that night in Gotham would be your last.

But then it had become clear that cheated death aside, nothing could kill his heart.

"You haven't visited in a while," you say.

You don't mean for it to sound accusatory.

"I know," Jason says. "Been busy. The Bats..."

And you knew. You knew the second you found out that Jason was alive that it would be like this, that he wouldn't be completely yours. He wasn't yours when he was Robin either, perhaps even less so.

And what's wrong with that? You have no right to ask him to be yours. To give you more.

But the recent distance has frightened you. Maybe it's for safety's sake, but your selfish heart wishes that he'd drop that for once.

Then again, there's always that dread in your stomach that perhaps Jason Todd doesn't love you the way you love him. And perhaps he never will.

"Well, I wish you'd call," you say.

This is wrong. You shouldn't be picking fights. Jason doesn't go dark out of cruelty, only necessity.

Jason sighs. "I can't. 'M sorry."

You cross your arms. It's chilly tonight.

"Do you even want to see me?"

He tilts his head. Dangerous.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't want to intrude," you say. "You're busy and all the stuff with B, I don't—I mean, I wouldn't hold it against you if you—"

Jason takes two long strides and closes the distance. You swallow the rest of your sentence as he backs you up against the brick exterior of an abandoned apartment. Your heart picks up. You're not afraid; the fear went long ago. You're just... something. You're something about Jason.

The last time you two hugged was after Willis' death. You'd wanted to wrap him in his cape, thought maybe that would make everything feel as small as he'd been.

Now, a foot taller and a hundred pounds heavier, Jason clearly does not need a cape. Right?

He takes off his helmet, lets it hang on his hand. His other hand is by your head. You lean back, let your neck go on display. Jason doesn't miss the movement.

"What're you doing, Jay?" you ask levelly.

Maybe he thinks you don't notice this distance but you do. You don't want to push him to talk about it, because as upsetting as it is, you're still strangers to each other.

You are and you're not. He died and he didn't. You grieved and you didn't. You burn and... you burn.

But you're tired of being and not being. You won't let him keep you in emotional purgatory. If he's done with you, he should just say so.

"If you don't want to meet anymore," you start, and let the words hang in the air.

"I—" he starts, then swallows. He tosses his helmet to the side. He doesn't touch you, just hovers inches away. Jason smells like lilac and gun smoke.

"I don't think you understand... my devotion," he says, voice low. "How much power you have over me."

Your eyes widen. "Wh—"

His green eyes reflect the streetlight like a cat's. The sight stops you short. Jason Todd is hot metal on a knife's edge, and it would do you well to remember that.

His hands curl into fists. He shakes his head.

"Sorry," he whispers like a prayer. "Not tryna scare you." His chest rises and falls rapidly. "'M I scarin' ya, sweetheart? Tell me and I'll go home, shake it off. Wait forever. I can be good. Won't want what I don't deserve."

"I'm not scared," you say, and it's the most sure you've ever been. "Not scared of you, Jay."

He breathes a laugh, like he can't quite believe you. His breath is warm on your neck.

"You'd be the first," he says. "The only one."

This, you believe. This, you have wondered some nights, knowing that even Batman isn't sure what to do with a son who lives with death on his shoulder.

"You don't have to devote yourself to me," you say, because that makes you pause. Who are you to be his god?

Jason laughs again, strong and sure. He sinks to his knees in front of you. His white streak glows in the light.

"You think it's a vice?" he asks. He rests a hand on your left thigh, testing. You lay your hand over his, so he holds your other thigh too.

He hums. "You do. You think you're holdin' me hostage."

Jason takes a shuddering breath and flattens his palms over your legs. Then he leans in and rests his cheek on your leg, nose near the apex of your thighs. Your belly flips.

"Let's make one thing clear. My devotion is my only redemption. 'S the only thing that makes me believe I'm not all rotted inside. Makes me behave. In this world and the next, I'm yours."

"I... Jason, you belong to yourself, not me. I don't—"

"You don't have to do anything. If it's too much, then I'll disappear. You can carry on."

You stroke the exposed side of his face. He looks up at you.

He is still. You have made him still.

"I'm yours too," you say.

He shakes his head. "You don't hafta—"

"Do you think being yours is a curse?" you ask, gaze sharp.

"Don't promise something for balance's sake," he rasps. "I'll be yours without you being mine."

Your heart is still. He has made it still.

"I'll keep coming back," Jason whispers, eyes wide. "If you're mine, I can't leave. Y'don't know what you're doing. Don't give yourself to me."

"I do. I'm yours."

His grip tightens around your legs. Jason shakes his head.

"Don't do it," he says into your thigh. "I shouldn't have anyone. I'm-I'm only meant to be yours. Nobody's mine."

But you know. You can slide your finger along his teeth and he'll wait with his mouth open. You can touch his edges and he'll turn his cheek so you won't nick your finger. He would sooner chew his own tongue.

"It's alright," you say, and kneel. You dirty your knees right alongside him. "It's okay, Jason. I know what I'm doing."

His breath hitches. Jason presses you into the brick, tucks his face into your neck. His arms wrap tightly around your waist.

"Sorry," he whispers frantically. "'M sorry. You can push me away. Sorry."

"I won't do that." You hold him and let him take you. "I know you're good. I thought—I thought you were pulling away, and I..."

"I was," he admits, muffled in your skin. "'M sorry. Was the only way I could think of to let you go. You deserve better. Couldn't think 'round you, honeylove. Knew it was a death sentence when I found out that you still lived in Gotham."

"It wasn't," you say. "Best thing that's ever happened to me."

Jason huffs. "You say that now, but..."

"No. I say it now and I'll say it again. Keep me, Jason. I'll keep you too."

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd imagine #red hood x you #red hood x reader #red hood fanfiction #batman fanfiction #dc fanfiction #jason todd x yn #jason todd x gender neutral reader #inbox #blurb

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dclovesdanny · 4 months ago

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Dead on Main

1/5

Danny heard his soulmate die when he was thirteen. The pleading cries in his head, his soulmate begging for help, haunted him. Even has a ghost, he’s always considered his soulmate’s death his most heartbreaking experience.(he tried not to think about how he had a breakdown in class while hearing his soulmates last thoughts. He tried not to think about how it was Jaz who picked him up from the office and not their parents. He was out of school for the rest of the week, inconsolable with grief. )

Jason, however, just wants to talk to whoever is making his soulmate, constantly die and revive himself. He was with the league of assassins, the first time his soulmate died, and had barely been able to hide what happened. He would find his soulmate though. He would save them. (He prayed to a god he had lost faith in that his soulmate only heard the bare minimum of thoughts. He still felt so guilty for making his soulmate hear his death.)

Clockwork new to truly avoid bad timeline, Daniel and Jason must meet and fall in love. He just had to make it so Daniel thought of a few more things that would lead to Amity.

#dcxdp #dc x dp #soulmate aus #soulmate #dead on main #angst #matchmaker Clockwork

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fictionalcharacters-mybeloved · 7 months ago

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Say no to this, Bruce.

A few days ago Bruce had a fight with his sons, now he doesn't even remember why, it was probably something stupid that escalated and he didn't know how to stop it, it was probably his fault.

He was alone at the mansion, Damian was at Dick's house, Jason was ignoring him more than usual and Tim was on a case where he didn't want help, not from him at least, even Duke was away, it wasn't a good week for Bruce.

He grabbed a phone he had hidden and only took out before going to sleep alone in his room, hesitated for a few seconds and sent a message to the only number added.

His "thing" with the boy, Danny Fenton, had started four years ago, the boy was lost and Bruce found him when he coincidentally went for a walk as a civilian.

Danny was so charmed by Bruce (for some reason) that he gave him his hotel room number to keep talking about the universe, and later his home number.

Danny was a good, funny and witty kid, a very smart too, with parents who didn't deserve him because they didn't notice their son's brilliance.

Danny was a good boy with a not-so-good life, a strong, independent boy who wasn't always positive but didn't always let himself fall apart.

That's why when Danny answered his message with a call with him crying and asking for help, he could only go to his rescue without looking back, barely remembering to tell Alfred of his departure.

When he arrived he found only tragedy.

His family and friends had died, an explosion at an unfortunate time, Danny had no one in the world besides his godfather and Bruce, and he didn't want to fall into Vlad's clutches, so he was desperate.

He also told him about Phantom, and Bruce could only hug him and promise him that no one was going to find him.

The first thing that came to his mind was to take him to his mansion, Danny was like his son, it was the most logical action... except that Danny still looked up to him and trusted him a lot, and wasn't that a scary thought?

Bringing Danny to the mansion would involve many things, Danny would meet his children, which might make Danny see him differently, goodbye to his admiration and affection, goodbye to spending time "together" watching bad movies to criticize them, goodbye to quiet conversations and asking for advice, goodbye to trust.

Bringing Danny to the mansion would mean having him physically close but keeping him away in every other possible way.

"Danny doesn't want anyone else to know about Phantom." Bruce repeated to himself as he took Danny to a small, hidden apartment in Gotham, a cozy little place where Vlad wouldn't find Danny (and neither would Bruce's family).

#dp x dc #danny phantom #batman #batfam #dc #batpham #dpxdc #danny fenton #No one told Danny about dangerous strangers #“The other woman” will start playing daily at the mansion when Dick finds out.#I was listening to “Say no to this” while I was typing #Danny is going to have a lot of fun being “the other” when he finds out that his existence is a secret.#I was planning to write everything from the POV of one of the batboys but I was a coward

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couldeatthatgirlforlunch · 5 months ago

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A Day in Life

Synopsis: A day in the life of Jason Todd. Also, he's a househusband now. Oh, and a little plot twist.

Pairing: Househusband!Jason Todd X Gn!Reader; Platonic!Batfam

Tw: Canon level angst for Jason; Some sexual innuendos; Writer apparently doesn't know how to finish a story anymore; This is pretty slice-of-life so maybe boring?; English is not my first language.

Word count: 3,8k

Requested? No.

General masterlist | A Day in Life - Series masterlist

Wake up, make out, get up. First steps of your everyday routine. Sometimes making out turns into something more, but not today.

From his past life, as Robin, Jason learned a lot about discipline. As much as he tried to forget everything and everyone from his past before you, some habits die hard, although with time, with you and with therapy, he accepted that not all of his experience was bad or should be thrown away just because of one sociopathic clown who hurt him. Yes, Jason died, came back angry and did a lot of shit. But he was still alive and this could be a second chance.

While you, his darling spouse, get ready for work, Jason gets up, puts on his apron, fills the dog bowl for Daphne — your little brown dachshund that you adopted together four months after getting married —, opens the doors to the garden, so the dog can do whatever, and finally starts making breakfast and lunch. Breakfast so you two can eat together and lunch for you to eat at work. Sometimes you both meet up and eat together at your office or a restaurant. Today, that's not the case.

Simple yogurt with fresh fruits and nuts, coupled with a slice of chocolate cake he baked the day prior, eggs, toast and coffee for breakfast. As for your lunch box, a natural sandwich, salad, fruits and juice. He also fills up your two liter water bottle, so you feel pressured have no excuse but to stay hydrated.

Food. Until he was 12 his relationship with food was complicated, to stay the least. At first, his beloved but troubled mom would be in no condition to cook him three or more nice and fulfilling meals a day for a growing boy, he either had to learn and make do with quick instant food, eggs and old bread, or starve, since money was something he only saw when it was being handled to her drug dealer. His father was even worse. Jason loved his mom. Still suffers for her. He hated his father who was the one making her addiction worse. He’s still happy he died.

Living on the streets, food was a dream. A bad dream. It either came from trash or he had to do things that made him feel humiliated and guilty just to get some. And it was gone in a flash, he was so hungry he devoured it all in a second, and then his belly hurt.

Then he came. Jason loved his new father. Loved his new grandfather. Loved their food. So healthy, abundant and full of taste. So fun to prepare. He learned a lot from Alfred because he loved to spend time with him, play with the ingredients and make everyone and himself happy with the results.

But then he had those memories wiped out of his mind, (un)fortunately they came back, but at that time food was in the back of his mind. Sure, he didn't have to worry about starving, crime paid more than enough for that, but he didn't put much thought into any of it.

Now, with you, he's making new memories with food. He cooked and baked a lot with you and for you throughout all your relationship, and you did the same for him. He loves his kitchen, just like the rest of your house. The pantry and fridge are always full thanks to you. You take good care of him. You make his trust in you be worth it. And he reciprocates it. Healthy and nice food that brings comfort and makes you roll your eyes. Especially after he started frequenting cooking classes as a hobby, again, thanks to you.

After you are gone with a full belly and a pet in the ass (just like him, honestly), he continues his routine. He changes clothes and goes to the gym. Jason never stopped exercising, but the lack of all the activity vigilantism entails and with all the treats you two have, he started getting more soft. You loved it, he hated it. — Okay he didn't hate it, he just wasn't the most happy with it. Roy thought it was kinda funny, until Jason pointed out he also got softer after Lian. You honestly couldn't see why all that softness they were talking about was so bad since they were still very muscular and defined, just less dry and more snuggly. You honestly thought your Jaybird could go even further. — So the addiction of yoga to his routine happened.

After that, he goes straight home, eats, showers, takes care of his appearance to keep looking like a proper hubby that you can shove on your bitter frenemies faces, and makes sure to keep the maintenance of the house, so you can come back tired from work and enjoy a perfect house to rest on.

Hygiene. Another things that was complicated with his biological family. His father wouldn't touch a single plate or broom, and would beat and scream at his mom if she didn't put her high (again, because of him) ass up and did the labor. Most often than not, their house was messy, had a bad smell that his little nose was so used to that it's not like he minded, and had insects around. His clothes were dirty hand-me-downs, some fit him, some didn't, a lot of them had holes. His hair tangled and itchy.

When he went to the streets, it just got worse.

Bruce and Alfred fixed that. He finally learned what stink was because he only knew good and neutral scents. His clothes fit him. Everything around him was clean and well-kept. No holes, no stains. Hair always trimmed, soft and clean. Well maintained.

When he came back, cleanliness was basic. Of course he is gonna keep everything around him clean. Habit and common sense, you know? Clothes his size because why the hell would he use hand-me-downs when he can just buy his own? And they had to be the right size for his new 6’2 and almost 200 lbs body. Hair? Whatever. Always washed but as long as it didn't look ridiculous he didn't have time to put much thought on his appearance. He was genuinely surprised you were attracted to him at first sight.

Being with you, he learned to enjoy the little things in life again. Sometimes he finds himself unmoving in front of a random room of the house, or in front of the mirror, trying to grasp if it's all real, If this is really his life, if that's how he looks. His mind flashes memories of his childhood home and his current home. He ignores the memories of the manor not only because of the betrayal he felt for Bruce, but also because the manor was from the Wayne's. He was a Wayne. He is not anymore. This is him. His new house, with you, is what he wished he had growing up. What he always dreamed of. Love. Company. And comfort. He felt all of that while being a Wayne, until he despised the Wayne's. Not the couple that died decades ago or the centuries old descendants. But his father and his siblings.

On days where he doesn't take care of the house, he practices his hobbies. He now has time to do it all, surprising you, his therapist, Roy, and himself, he did cooking, gardening, pottery, crocheting and of course, reading. You paid for all his classes, praised him on his achievements, added his creations to the decor of the house, accompanied him on any event or place related to his interests, gave him his own library in one of the rooms in the house. He even made some friends between middle-aged women and the only other househusband and stay-a-home dad that frequented those places.

It was very funny and cute seeing rough, huge, leather jacket wearing and scarred Jason Todd telling jokes to 50-year-old white moms/grandmas and sometimes even babysitting their kids, pets and plants. You knew he could be a good dad one day if you decided to have kids. He was also more than happy to have just you, Daphne and good friends. And plants.

Warmth. When he was a kid his parents broke the heater during a fight, he wondered if they didn't have money to fix it, even with his father's activities, or if his father just refused to fix it. Anyhow, it was always cold in Gotham, freezing on winter, his dirty clothes with holes didn't help much. The streets didn't seem much different in that aspect. The manor kept him warm when he wasn't seven feet under the dirt, in a casket. When he came back, Jason always wore the warmest of clothes, even while sweating, he didn't know why. Now he did. Your house is always warm. Your body is always warm. Comfort. Your love gave him comfort. Warmth. A reason to live.

Love. His mom. Bruce and Alfred. You.

After he was done and rested for a little, Jason took Daphne for a walk in the way to the grocery shop. He wanted to try a new receipt you saw on tiktok today for dinner and had to get more flour and something for the filling.

After a few minutes of walking on his perfectly nice looking and safe neighborhood — nothing like crime alley. The type of neighborhood he saw on the television and imagined those other happy kids his age living and envied them. Dreamed of being adopted into one of their families while jumping from orphanage to orphanage. It never happened. He just got more abused. And then the manor was so isolated that you could only see mansions and plants all around. So big and far away that they looked empty of life. — he got there and strapped the dog to a post, next to a smiley golden retriever.

He got in and- fuck it, I'm going home. The empanadas can wait another day.

— Jason? Oh my god. Jason! Is that you?! — The infuriatingly familiar loud voice calls out from the middle of the shop and all heads turn to look. Shit, he can't go now without embarrassing himself in front of the cashier of his favorite and most visited shop. So he just nods, takes a basket and walks as if there was nothing interesting happening. It worked with the others costumers, unfortunately, Dick thought it was way too interesting and forgot his own basket that only contained eggs and cereal, and started following him around, this time, with a less surprised tone.

— Hey, Dick. — Jason idly muttered, that just made his coff coff brother indignant.

— Hey, Dick?! What the hell? Where were you? It's been three years! We thought you were dead! Or kidnapped! We never stopped looking for you! We were worried! We mourned! What happened? — Was it bad that Jason didn't want to give him a real answer? Probably. Especially with how much his therapist, who he saw on the days he didn't go to the gym, told him he should try to mend things with his family. So much so that he started actually contemplating it recently. But if he did it, it was going to be on his own time. Not by bumping into them in the grocery store. Oh, well. Jason was always good at adapting. The best.

And wow, three years had passed? Makes sense. Recovery does take time and he's been really happy for a while. Jason still remembers the day he decided to quit everything. It was the same day he decided you were the one, truthfully he always knew you were marriage material, the perfect one for him, out of his league, straight out of his most amazing dreams, peak goal for him, but he wasn't sure if he deserved to be the one you should be stuck with forever. He desperately wanted to, but he had to commit. Ride or die. He loved you, now more than ever, and didn't want to waste your time. He was still a bit messy at the time, but you made it all better, he was a lot better than he was before you came into the picture. You were the right choice. Jason always took you seriously, he was just insecure. So, while still in around eight months of relationship, he quit everything.

He quit his family. He quit vigilantism. He searched for recovery. And a year and a half later, with a little more than two years of dating, he made the big proposal. You married on your three-year anniversary. Got Daphne four months later. It's been around three or four months ever since.

While Dick’s math might not be exact, it is not necessary in this context, the point came across just fine.

He also knew that the fact that you both decided to not leave Gotham was going to bite him in the ass one day. One way or another.

— What happened? Oh, well. I retired. Got married. And now I'm a dad. — Daphne was like a daughter to him, so it was the same, right?

His nonchalant reply didn't seem to satisfy the other, though. Todd could see it, the urge to strangle him in his eyes. Dick wouldn't strangle his dead missing little brother, would he?

— You… You what? — Dick was in disbelief.

— You guys searched for me? Thanks, I guess? It means a lot. — Jason just sniffed and went on his way, leaving Grayson behind, paralyzed.

Maybe he could be fast enough and get out of there before the older one got a grasp of his senses back and followed him out. Part of him felt hope, the other heard yours and his therapist voices in his head, and the nagging was annoying. Maybe he never stopped being a “grump”, like you always amusedly said.

Oh, no. Here he comes again. Jason suppresses an eye-roll.

— Stop. Can you really explain? — The mix of emotions was almost overwhelming, an urge to cry, punch a wall, punch Jason's face, scream and who knows what more was running through Dick's body.

Jason sighed and finally addressed him completely. Tone lower so no one could hear.

— Okay. I met someone… Someone good. Someone special. A civilian. I was tired of everything. So I decided to retire and made sure none of you could find me. I'm surprised Roy and Lian kept the secret from you, though. Anyway. Now I'm a stay-at-home hubby, have a dog and go to therapy. You happy? — A beat of silence. — Hey, don't make that face… I was going to tell you guys eventually… When I felt like it… It's not like you guys saw me a lot. How much time did it take for you all to miss me? I made an appearance once in a while when someone asked for help and that's it. Alfred knew everything so if you’re gonna be mad at anyone, be at him too, not just me… And Roy. Don't forget Roy.

— A-Are you kidding me? Oh, yes, blame the butler! You couldn't even tell us? Like “hey guys, I'm gonna retire and take some time for myself for a while. Also, come to my wedding!” I wanted to be invited, you know?! Why didn't you invite me? Did you at least invite Alfred? Did- — Jason rolled his eyes and cut his rant.

— Yes, Alfred was there. Front row and everything. — Dick shrieked.

— T-That’s not the point! — His voice raised slightly from exasperation and both of them checked around for anyone's attention, then came back to the conversation.

Jason raised a hand to interrupt him and took a deep breath.

— Look. I wasn't in a nice place at the time, okay? I'm better now… And I was going to talk to you guys sooner rather than later… — Jason let a moment of vulnerability shine, hoping that would melt his brother's heart and fix things. It did. — We will have a second wedding when we renovate our vows in our 5th anniversary. You can be there… Everyone can be there. — Jason cleared his throat to interrupt the other again. — But now I have to get home in time to make dinner for my honeyboo, so why don't we… Stay in contact and… One of those days everyone can have dinner together and catch up, huh?

Dick took one of the deepest breaths of his whole life. Jason pursed his lips.

— Okay… — He stuck a finger in his face roughly. — But don't disappear again. Or else I promise I’m gonna personally make everyone track you down, understood? — Jason snorted. As if Tim and Bruce wouldn't do it already once they knew everything. As if Bruce didn't secretly keep track of him this whole time. Unless… Unless everyone changed and he didn't know his… His family anymore.

Why did it make him feel weird?

— Yes, boss. — Jason saluted him and left.

— Relax… — You elongated the word. — Nothing bad it's gonna happen… — You went behind Jason and tried rubbing his broad shoulders to chase the tenseness away. The sight and feel of his muscles almost made you drool, and you blinked to focus again.

— How do you know? — You pursed your lips and went to his side to try to make him take his eyes off of cleaning the countertop for the 4th time due to anxiety.

— Because they love you. And they care about you. And they miss you. — Jason deadpanned you. — Just give it a chance. If anything goes wrong, we will just kick them out and you never have to talk to them, ever again. We can even move if you want. Or go on a vacation to the same place we had our honeymoon, I can wear that skimpy piece you like… Spoil you rotten… — Your voice lowered seductively and you pressed your body to his side, running your hand up and down his arms with some pressure.

Jason’s mind went blank and he was speechless for a few seconds. Your eyebrows raised with a small, convincing smile that made all his worries go away. He sighed.

— Okay… Okay, you’re right… — He leaned down and sneaked an arm around your waist. You both shared a slow and wet kiss, bordering between sensual and calming. Unfortunately, he had to wait a few hours before having some action. He pulled his face away a few centimeters, looking you in the eyes. — I thought I had ripped that thing. — You blinked.

— You just might have. But I bought another one because I looked too good on it not to wear it again. — You shared a chuckle when the doorbell rang. You both looked at the door, then at each other. — Want me to get it? — You ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm the last of his nerves. Jason swallowed.

— No. Have to get it over with. — He took a deep breath and then let out. Pulling away from your embrace. — Put the juice on the table for me, please? — You hummed and nodded.

Without giving a second thought, he walked in long strides and abruptly opened the door.

It was like that scene in Avengers: End Game when on one side there was just Captain America against the whole Thanos's army, just staring at each other.

— Are you wearing an apron? — Damian snarked with an eyebrow raised. Jason looked down. Yes, he was. Good start.

— Take your shoes off, there’s other shoes for you all there. And here I was having hope that at fifteen you wouldn't be a demon anymore. — Jason said sarcastically and gave them space to enter.

As soon as they got in the neighborhood they were all already skeptical. If you were the only one working, how much do you earn to live in such a nice area and with this nice house? They could even see a pool in the backyard and there were TWO expensive cars in the driveway. Jason said he quit all of the crime lord thing, did he keep the savings? Did he invest?

The little dog came running and barking, taking their attention away from the house and their shoes, Damian immediately crouched to pet her. Jason let a side of his lips go up. At least that hasn't changed.

— Her name is Daphne. — Jason spoke over the cooing of Duke and Cass at the dog. He locked eyes with Bruce who had an unreadable expression on his face. He looked older, Jason didn't know how to feel about that. Then gazed at Dick, who had a shit eating grin, Alfred, whose satisfied smile warmed his heart, and Tim, who was analyzing the space while changing shoes.

— Nice place. So, what does your partner do? — Are they committing fraud? — You appeared from the corner and replied for him.

— I direct the Queen Industries’s Gotham’s office. — You answered softly with a polite smile, stopping besides Jason, who wrapped an arm around you. Everyone's gaze turning on you made you feel shy, but you held on with confidence.

— Oh, wow, so Jason really is a malewife. — Your eyes widened in surprised and you couldn't hold back a laugh. Jason let a small smile graze his lips, coaxing the easiness out of him.

— I offered to pay cleaning and cooking service, but he wanted to do things himself. — You say, a little afraid they would get angry at you for “slavering” their Jason.

— Did you buy those cars outside? — Wow, Tim really was as skeptical as Jason had said.

— Hmhmm. — You nodded simply, as if it was nothing.

Jason's siblings raised their eyebrows and Bruce cleared his throat, and took a step forward, feet clad in fluffy slippers. He offered a hand and presented himself politely to you. You wondered how much of that was his persona and how much was just a father meeting his son's partner.

While giving them a tour of the house, the family — aside from Alfred who already knew it all — observed the details, happy memories in the form of pictures of trips, your marriage, birthdays, anniversaries, Daphne's growing stages, spontaneous moments that just deserved to be eternalized, trinkets, handmade pots, plants, Daphne’s toys, and the decor that was just a mix of you both. No guns in the walls, no corpses buried in the backyard, no blood stains. The only signals that it was their Jason living here and not a clone were the books, pictures and hidden security measures.

It was… Good. Peaceful. Clearly the change in scenario helped him. It hurt them a little, some more than others, that it took him cutting them off for him to start healing, although, maybe opening up this new side of him for them meant that it wasn't just that. And it wasn't. The fault didn't fall completely on them. Nor on Jason. And one person, you, can't be the solution for all global crisis. Mental health is complex. Trauma is complicated. Past can't be changed, but the future can.

That night, everyone enjoyed Jason's cooking, Daphne and the new future.

Like, comment and reblog 🥰

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drytacomeat · 3 months ago

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𝐈 𝐖𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐖𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧’𝐭 𝐆𝐚𝐲 𝐒𝐨 𝐖𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐌𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐎𝐮𝐭

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐩𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐳𝐞/𝐜𝐡𝐮𝐛𝐛𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐞: 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥? 𝐞𝐱𝐡𝐢𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐠𝐚𝐲 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐮𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 (𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐥 𝐠𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐛𝐡), 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐲 𝐩𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐲 (𝐢𝐝𝐜 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐭) , 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲

reblogs appreciated!!

(not super proofread sorry)

3.9k words

Enjoy!

“Alright, Ed. I need your opinion,” you sigh as you and Eddie walked into your room. He threw his book bag onto your bed and gently took yours from your shoulders.

“Why, you know I am always most delighted to offer my opinions! It is what I’m known for after all,” he dramatized.

“Thanks, Eddie,” you smiled widely at him.

Eddie couldn’t help but blush a bit. Your plush cheeks and pretty smile were seemingly the light of his life. He had to stare at your face every chance he got, taking all of you in like it was his first time meeting you all over again.

“Eddie?” you spoke breaking him out of his trance.

“Yep?” he responded, trying to feign casualty before clearing his throat.

“Alright, so I wore this lingerie set today. You’re a guy, so tell me if you think it’s sexy or not. I thought it was, but this guy I’m supposed to be hooking up with didn’t even bat an eye at the sight of the bra strap,” you pouted as you tugged at the hem of your shirt.

Eddie’s fist clenched at the mention of this “guy.” Of course he knew who the guy was. It was some guy on the basketball team. Eddie hadn’t known his name, but he knew that he was in Jason’s douchebag entourage. He knew those types of dudes would never appreciate you, or any woman for that matter, because their heads were either up their own ass or in “laundry baskets.”

In his opinion, nobody deserved you except for him, and he, himself, may be pushing it.

Nevertheless, Eddie swallowed thickly and nodded at your request. He figured you’d have just showed him your bra strap or a small sliver of the thing. Surely you would just keep it modest. You guys were best friends, and Eddie shouldn’t even began to think of you as anything less.

Poor boy was in complete shock when you began taking your shirt off.

His eyes grew comically wide as your bare, plush stomach and fat tits covered in dark green lace came into view.

His jaw dropped and his mouth ran dry as you had completely removed the shirt and began adjusting your tits in the bra.

Pinch him because Eddie swore he must’ve already died and been in heaven.

You continued to observe yourself in the mirror, waiting for Eddie’s response, but it never came.

The silence caused you to grow nervous. You were quite confident in yourself, but the lack of praise or taunt was starting to irk you.

“Okay, so is it…sexy?” you smiled nervously, your confidence withering a bit.

Eddie had to squeeze his eyes shut and think about the most gnarly situations possible for his dick not to get hard. The last thing he wanted was to make you uncomfortable. He opened his eyes and looked at your timid stance. God, you were beautiful.

He nodded rapidly, albeit a little late.

“Yes! Uhm…so sexy indeed. Yep, I don’t think I have ever seen anything sexier,” he rambled as his curls bounced with the rapid nods of his head, hands waving to and fro.

Your nerves calmed down immediately as you visibly loosened. Your smile grew wider again, and you began posing in a silly manner, now feeling better about yourself. Eddie always had that effect on you. It really sucked that he would never feel anything romantic towards you or any girl really.

“Right! I guess my hookup was just an idiot,” you shrugged and turned away from Eddie but towards your mirror.

Eddie’s throat was incredibly dry, so he grabbed a water bottle from your bedside table, quickly downing it.

“Yeah, well, I may be a two time senior year repeater, but those athlete characters are the real idiots at that school,” he complained and rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, whatever. These things are uncomfortable anyway. No point in me dressing up for that dick,” you rambled as you began unfastening it, “I mean, they’re cute, but they provide like no support.”

Eddie finally moved his line of sight back to you just as you dropped your bra completely, bare chest completely on display through the mirror. Eddie whimpered and began to choke on his water.

You turned around startled.

You quickly moved over to Eddie to grab the water bottle from his hand and began to pat his back soothingly.

“You okay, Eds? How did you even manage to choke on water?” you joked.

Eddie was now having a coughing fit from the proximity of your tits to his face. He could feel his dick growing rapidly inside his tight ripped jeans. He was sure he was leaking, and if you got any closer, he would possibly cream his pants.

“Yep, nope. I’m fine! Just peachy!” he chirped and gave a big, fake smile.

You stood back up, looking down at his face for assurance. Once you figured he was in fact alright, you sauntered back over to the mirror.

“Sorry, Eddie, can you hand me my bra? It’s like right beside you under the covers. It’s so much more comfortable than the lingerie,” you reasoned.

He swallowed trying to compose himself. He was panicking because if he stood up, his hard cock would be on full display, and it was definitely noticeable. He was a bit of a grower after all.

“Yeah, I’ll hand your royal highness thy brassiere,” he tried to joke but it came out stiffly. He reached for the bra, subconsciously fingering the material in his hands, imagining he was the one taking this off of you. Instead of getting up, he leaned forward awkwardly to hand you the bra.

You turned around with a smile, your tits bouncing with the movement, and took the bra from his hands.

As you were putting it on, you murmured, “You’re just sweet as pie, Eddie. Sucks that you’re gay.”

Eddie made a face of confusion.

“What?”

You turned to him and made your way over to the bed to slip your shoes off.

“I said that it sucks that you’re gay. I mean you’re so sweet to me, so I think you’d be a great boyfriend. Quite the lady’s man,” you explained as you went to get comfortable in your bed, pulling out a magazine. “But I suppose you’d be a good boyfriend to a man too.”

“Excuse me?” he spoke in shock, cutting you off, “Y/n…I’m not gay?”

You put your magazine down quickly.

“What? You’re not?” you asked a bit confused.

“No? I- why would you think so? I never told you I was gay!” he continued.

“But-I mean…everyone called you a, y’know, queer,” you reasoned, “for about as long as I can remember. You’ve sucked guy’s dicks?”

“Oh, Jesus! I have not! Out of all people, I wouldn’t have expected you to believe that bullshit!” he said frantically, sounding hurt.

“Oh fuck. I’m sorry, Eddie. I knew I shouldn’t have believed that shit. I guess I just didn’t want to judge,” you whispered. You felt shame overtake you.

“I know I’m quite the dramatic, but c’mon…gay? Really? Well suppose I’ve never led you to believe anything else, have I?”

Eddie did consider he never talked about girls in a romantic way, and he did talk about the boys who gave him a hard time more than one would deem normal. That was justified though! He just hated them so much. If he didn’t talk about it almost 24/7, he would surely explode.

“Not really! And I have…been so provocative with you. Hell, I just put my tits in your face! That’s borderline sexual harassment. I mean I guess it would still be if you were actually gay, but I just figured since there’s no way in a billion years that you would be attracted to me-,” you rambled on before Eddie quickly cut you off with a rushed kiss.

Eddie was not sure at all you were into him beyond just being friends, but here he was, laying all his cards on the table and taking a chance. He cradled your chubby cheeks in his hands, savoring the warmth of them.

His lips were plush and a bit dry, but they were nice. So, so nice. He was a gentle kisser, taking his time, and clearly outdoing your endeavors. You assume he must’ve had a good deal of experience.

You pushed him away, despite not wanting to break the kiss, but you needed an explanation and a breath of air.

“What was that?” you asked as your chest rapidly moved with your heavy breathing.

“Look, you said I could never be attracted to you in a million years, just wanted to show you that that was most certainly was not the case, my liege,” he smiled. “And it physically pained me to watch you date all those dipshit men who didn’t appreciate you. You don’t know how much I’ve thought about just kicking their asses. However, if anything, I thought you would never be into me. Now, I know it’s just because you thought I was gay?”

He couldn’t help but chuckle at that, and you had to cover your face out of embarrassment.

“I’m a shitty friend,” you groaned from behind your hands.

He moved your hands away from your face, placing a peck onto your lips. “None of that!”

You leaned into him, wrapping your arms around his neck. You were intertwined, moving liquidly.

This kiss grew heated quickly, tongues hastily bullying each other into submission and when you inevitably had to pull away for breaths of air, Eddie trailed kisses down your neck.

“Smell so good, always wanted to smell here. You have no fucking idea.”

You let out a bit of a whiny moan at that.

Eddie trailed his hands up and down your back, gripping your waist and pulling at the hem of your shirt.

“This okay?” he huffed as his forehead met yours and looked into your eyes.

“Eddie, I was just half naked in front of you. Take it all off. I literally do not care.”

Eddie wasted no time in pulling your shirt over your head and unfastening your bra with quickness and ease.

As soon as your bra dropped off your shoulders, Eddie paused. He had saw them earlier, but he didn’t let him self really look. Now he was completely taking you in, eyes fixated on your chest.

Eddie bit his lip before he bent down to kiss and suckle at your breasts.

“Pretty, fat fucking titties. Always wanted to feel them in my hands, on my tongue,” he huffed before he dived in to take your nipple into his mouth, massaging the other.

You were left breathless.

Eddie was so entranced with your breasts. He took his time licking and nibbling. He spit onto your right tit and watched it dribble down before licking it up from the areola and suckling harshly onto the nipple.

“So fucking good at that, Eddie,” you moaned. You could feel the vibrations of the whimper Eddie let out at the praise.

Of course the town freak had a thing for praise.

“I need more, Eddie,” you sighed, growing restless at the minuscule teasing at your nipples.

“More?” Eddie sprung up, “Oh I can definitely do that. Might need to get more naked for that though.”

He had a smug smile plastered onto his face as he shrugged. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

Shimmying off your pants was no problem considering you had exposed your large tummy that came with a few gag gifts of rolls, stretch marks, and cellulite with no hesitation. So yeah, showing a little leg was nothing.

Eddie didn’t seem to find any problem with them either. He gripped your meaty thighs, rings indenting on them. He was obsessed with them. He adored every part of your body and getting you this close and bare was surreal to him.

He took his place back buried into you, kissing roughly over your cheeks, neck, and chest, you mewling in response.

His hands slowly made their way down to your stomach, and much to your satisfaction, they didn’t linger there longer than they did on any other part of your body.

With past hook ups, it was seemingly all they would care about, gripping the fat there excessively, resulting in you feeling uncomfortable. You knew it was likely a fetish thing, or just shitty curiosity. It hurt, but you had excepted it, expected it. With Eddie, it was different.

Eddie treated every part of you with the same care and respect. You admired him so much.

He settled one hand at the small of your back and allowed the other to trail it’s way down to the waistband of your underwear, deep green and thick cotton sitting warm atop his fingertips. The bra and panties were not a matching lace set because you didn’t enjoy the itchy lace against your pussy, so you opted for the same color. You leaned back, and Eddie signaled for you to lay your leg atop of his lap so that you would be more spread out.

“Can I?” he asked as he breathed heavily down your neck. You gulped and nodded, head dropping down to look at the hand in your panties.

He trailed lower, marveling at the feeling of the thick tuft of hair over your warm, wet pussy.

Eddie was straining in his boxers, sweat beading on his forehead. Now he’s fingered girls plenty, ate pussy galore, but he’s never gotten to second…third? base. Eddie was still a raging virgin, and on top of all that, this was you he was involved with now.

He wanted to impress and make you feel like you’re getting the best fuck of your life. It just wasn’t helping that he felt like this was his first ever wet dream, or he’d finally became conscious and touched his dick for the first time.

Nevertheless, he lowered his fingers, feeling the wetness sticking to the skin and hair there.

You bit your lip, eagerness coursing through your veins. Eddie circled your clit with his middle and ring finger, eliciting a shuddering moan from you.

He continued to rub tight circles around it as you squirmed in your spot, until he suddenly pulled his hand away.

You looked at him in confusion until he brought the two fingers up to his mouth, sucking your wetness right off of his fingers.

You stared at him in awe, chest heaving. He maintained direct eye contact with you as his plump lips suckled onto the fingers before he pulled them out with a juicy pop, winking teasingly afterwards.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his shamelessness.

“Taste so fuckin’ good, honey,” he smiled. Your face ran hot at that. You couldn’t help the smile that came across your face, so you pulled him into another deep, passionate kiss, tangling your fingers into his hair and gripping his chin harshly.

You could pick up on his impatience as he nipped your lip too hard one too many times and began to squirm. You yanked him back by his curls and looked deeply into his shiny, chocolatey eyes. He stared up at you with his mouth open, caught off guard. Your entire demeanor changed.

“So pretty, Eddie,” you smiled.

“Thank you,” he huffed, “I uh, I want to put my fingers in you, if that’s alright with you? I mean, I’m pretty good at what I do, but everybody’s different. You might not prefer that.”

He was rambling, but you were so unarmored by it. It was so special how considerate he was.

“Want your hands on me everywhere, Ed. Especially in me.”

His smiled widened.

“Well then, take these off for me will ya?” he instructed, pulling the waistband of your panties from your hips and back onto your skin.

You moved your leg from his lap and slowly pulled your panties off.

Eddie eyed you with hunger. The girl of his dreams was right in front of him, all in your naked glory. He could die happy now, and he would die with the image of your naked body on his mind.

“Perfect,” he murmured and beckoned you back to the bed.

You leaned back onto your arms for support as Eddie moved in closer to you, placing your right leg over his lap and having you prop your left leg up onto the bed.

“You’re so beautiful,” he spoke.

“Perfect face,” he placed a soft kiss to your cheek.

“Perfect smell,” he continued, words being muffled by your neck as he peppered kisses there.

He reached up to your tits again to tease your nipples. “Perfect tits.”

He pressed kisses to them as he moved his other hand back down towards your now soaking and throbbing pussy.

You were a bit self conscious at how hairy your pussy was now that you were really seeing it. You’d never cared before in all honesty as you were confident in every aspect of yourself, but you couldn’t help but wonder if Eddie liked it or not.

“So perfect down here,” he couldn’t help the smile showing on his face as he bent down to get a good look at where his hand played with your stiff clit.

Your tummy rolls made if hard for you to see yourself, but you could see his hands moving, and that was hot enough.

His skilled fingers gathered slick drooling from your hole and traced your entire cunt with it.

“Can I go inside, honey?” he asked, looking into your eyes with his own deep, chocolate ones. “You’d make my fingers oh so warm and cozy.”

You nodded with your mouth open in a gasp. Eddie looked at you, enchanted. A small smirk came to his face, and he was reminded just of how hard he was in his tight jeans.

He pulled his lip between his teeth in concentration as he slid his slick middle finger down to your hole.

“You ever played down here?” he panted as he circled your hole, becoming more confident.

“Y-yeah, you know that, Eds,” you managed to joke.

“Yeah, I did know that, but did you ever make yourself cum so hard that you saw stars?”

Now, that question left you speechless.

You could only shake your head “no” in response.

Eddie clicked his tongue and smiled at that, “Thought so.”

He began to circle your pussy hole.

“Bet those dumbass laundry tossers never made you cum either, hm?” he taunted. It was hot, and goofy, but you were impatient!

“Eddie, honestly, if you don’t get your fingers in me right now!”

Eddie smirked and slid his finger down to the knuckle inside you.

“Aw, fuck,” you gasped.

Eddie smiled widely, “So bossy. I love it when you boss me around baby, but you already know that.”

He began gently thrusting his finger in and out of you.

“You’re so wet. Wettest, prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen.”

“More, Eds,” you gasped.

With that, he sped up the thrusts of his finger.

“You want more, baby? I’ll give you more, sweet thing,” he swiftly slid his one finger out and reentered you with two.

Your back arched up more and Eddie placed his other hand on the small of your back to support you.

He was in complete awe of you, hands moving on pure instinct inside you because he could not mentally think of anything else besides you.

“Mm,” you let out as he curled his fingers in you.

Eddie began to place kisses onto your plush neck, speeding up the movement of his fingers inside you.

By now, you were so turned on. Eddie was so fucking talented with his fingers. You figured it was either from other hookups or the fact that he was a guitar god.

The slickness of your pussy, and the speed of his fingers created a delicious squelching sound.

“Your pussy’s speaking to me, honey,” Eddie teased, “Oh, I love when she talks dirty to me.”

You took your bottom lip between your teeth. Eddie’s big, brown, round eyes roamed your body, taking you in.

“Oh, I know, baby, I know.” he smiled and went to twist at your nipple.

“Eddie, fuck. How are you so good at this?” you huffed between moans. Eddie used his forearm to force you back closer to his chest.

“Dunno, just talented like that I guess,” he kissed your cheek, “You sayin’ I’m good?”

You groaned and rolled your eyes, preparing to make a snarky remark.

Eddie pressed his thumb to your clit, quickly circling it.

“Aw fuck!”

The roughness of his thumb sweetly colliding with your hard clit felt utterly delicious.

“Yeah,” he taunted, “What was all that talk, huh?”

You mewled in response, unable to form words. Your cunt smell filling the air of the room.

“Smell so good, wanna eat that pussy. You’d let me? Let me lick that fat pussy? Fuck you with my tongue?” he breathed into your neck.

“Yes! Fuck! Anything!” you squeaked and ground down onto his fingers. He was nibbling at your earlobes.

“Yeah, so good. Just take what you need baby,” he growled and began to hump against the seam of his tight jeans, needing some type of friction.

“Eddie, I’m gonna!”

He quickly fucked his fingers into you, trying his best to keep that and the rhythm on your clit in tact.

“Yeah, baby, let it all out okay? Want your cum,” he gritted, “Just give me that cum. Only me, yeah?”

He slammed against your g spot harshly, pressing down onto your clit.

“Yes! Fuck, only you, Eddie! My pussy is yours!” you rambled in the horny daze.

You squeezed your eyes shut tightly feeling your body heat rise, and your pussy began to clench down tightly onto the boy’s fingers.

You felt your climax unravel, completely taken by it.

“Fuck!” you screamed, squirt leaving your cunt and soaking Eddie’s fingers.

Eddie watched your pussy in awe. He’d never made a girl squirt before, and this knocked him on over the edge. He spilled into his boxers, groaning lowly into your ear, but he never slowed down or lost the rhythm of his fingers inside you.

You had a dopey smile on your face from the intensity or your orgasm, all sound, and majority of sight gone momentarily.

Eddie eased you through your orgasm, slowing the movement of his fingers gradually when he figured you were mostly done cumming before removing them completely. He slapped your cunt softly after, making you flinch and whine.

Eddie placed a kiss to your cheek.

“Never seen that before,” he smiled. You blinked longly before looking back at him confused.

He looked down at your bedsheets, you followed his eyes. Oh! It was…wet.

“Oh, I didn’t know I could do that,” you said genuinely surprised.

Eddie shrugged.

“Didn’t know I could make a girl to that,” he shrugged and popped his ring and middle finger into his mouth once again, sucking them is if they were a cock. *Was he sure that he’s never sucked dick before?*

“Eddie,” you groaned, “You’re nasty!”

“Eh, I don’t think so. You taste pretty good,” he shrugged sucking the tips of the fingers.

You shook your head and leaned in for a small, kiss before pulling away.

“So…want me to return the favor?” you smiled at the boy.

Eddie’s face reddened quickly, and he nervously scratched the back of his neck.

“I kinda came in my pants watching you,” he chuckled nervously.

“Oh!” you smiled widely at that before your own face ran hot. “Okay then.”

“Yeah.”

Silence filled the room as you continued catching your breath, Eddie mindlessly stroking your arm.

“So you were never gay?”

#plus size reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #fanfiction #stranger things #eddie munson x female reader #eddie stranger things #poc reader #chubby reader #eddie munson smut #sub eddie munson #dom fem reader #sub male character #fem dom reader #male dom character

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nebulousmoon3990 · 1 month ago

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GHOSTS OF THE PAST (Batfam x neglected hero reader)

I 𓂃› GHOSTS

Warning: neglect (unintentional), Damian being Damian, violence, blood, swearing, sensitive topics, writing errors (English is not my first language) and reader has black hair and blue eyes (sorry),Fem reader!, I accept criticism but please don't be rude, everything is fictional!

You consider yourself a good son

I mean, you were never a saint, there were times when you did stupid things and got into trouble with her, but you always managed to solve them. But apparently the universe decided that you weren't good enough.

Not for your family at least.

You were just another product of your father's affair, the only difference is that you were born (something that wasn't supposed to happen) but that's okay! Your mother still loved you and took care of you with all the love she had to offer.

She never spoke openly about your father, but you saw on TV the news about your mother, the great writer from Gotham, with the businessman Bruce Wayne. You were always smart and quickly connected the dots but you didn't question your mother because she was clearly uncomfortable, so you kept quiet and let it go, because you didn't need him. You already had your mother, you already had your uncles, even your little friends from school! You don't need your father.

That is until she died.

It was when you were four years old, you had gone to the market to buy things for dinner and on the way a criminal tried to steal them, your mother trying to protect you ended up with a bullet in the chest, you remember little, but you remember that he ran away while your mother died in front of you. After that you thought you were going to be sent to an orphanage, believe your surprise when your father came to take you home. The first time you saw him you were surprised by how much alike you were: same hair, same eyes, your face was really your mother's, but your skin was his, you were a perfect mix of your mother and your father, at the time you loved it but now... you are not so sure.

When you arrived at the mansion, you met your half-siblings. You were so excited. You always wanted a sibling, since you spent a lot of time alone. The possibility of having siblings made you very happy. The first was Dick: a bright smile and the sunshine of the family. Dick was friendly with you and at least bothered to ask a little about you, like your age or when your birthday was. But the next day, he completely forgot about you. Even though he lived in Bludhaven, he visited the mansion often. Of all your siblings, you felt the most excluded by him. While he said that family was the most important thing, he ignored you. Maybe it wasn't intentional, but what's the point of apologizing for not being there if you don't change anything?

The second was Tim: the Robin of the time. Tim was just... Tim, he was never that neglectful with you, but he didn't try to get closer either. He had no opinion for you. You would say that Tim was observant, quiet, and cold. He would help you if he saw that you needed help, the problem was that he was never there, so he never had time for you (like everyone else).

The third was Jason: in your opinion he was your favorite, Jason was the one in the house who gave you some attention. It wasn't always, but when he came to the mansion he really cared about asking about you.

"Why are you so skinny?" "Are you doing well in your studies?" "Is someone bothering you, brat?" and things like that. Jason wasn't that close but he was never distant either, that's why he was your favorite, but just like Tim he was never there when you needed him, since he couldn't stay at the mansion much (you believe that part of the blame is Bruce).

Then came the rest of your siblings, Barbara was always busy like Bruce and Dick, Cassandra and Stephanie weren't interested in you, and Duke never exchanged more than two or three words with you.

And then to top it all off came Damian: your younger brother. You thought that even though Damian was Al Grul's (trained to kill and all) maybe, just maybe, you two could have a good relationship.

Oh, how terribly wrong you were.

And you realized it the moment Damian almost cut your throat with his sword. That day Damian was reprimanded by Bruce while Dick was taking care of his neck, from what you understood Damian thought he needed to kill you to become Robin.

You, a civilian, almost wanted to laugh at his presumption that you could be a vigilante when you couldn't even lift your backpack properly. After that day you didn't get close to Damian again, the fear of him doing something to you terrified you to the core. Damian realized it, you knew it by the looks he gave you, but whether it was pride or shame he never apologized to you.

Bruce never had time for you, wrapped up in work and as Batman his time was precious and he had to spend it on what was necessary, and you understood that.

You understood all of them.

But...it still hurt.

It hurt your soul a lot.

That's why you stopped trying to impress them, stopped enrolling in classes they liked just to get their attention, stopped bothering them to get some family time. You gave up, simple as that, the family didn't care, probably not even knowing about it.

There was Alfred, who probably spent the most time with you, acting like a grandfather. But Alfred is also Bruce's butler and the sidekick to Gotham's heroes, he couldn't spend all his time with you either (you accepted that, it was okay).

But sometimes there were rare moments that happened, moments when they cared, when you saw a little bit of love from them towards you.

Like when Jason gave you one of his sweatshirts for your birthday, one that you really liked (you still wear it to this day, it's still too big on you).Or when you didn't have a partner for your history project since no one was your friend, so Dick and Tim spent half the night helping you with it. Or when school bullies beat you up, you went back to the mansion (which was empty) with a black eye, just so Damian could see you. By some miracle, you convinced him not to tell Bruce, thinking that the matter had died there, you went back to your room only for Damian to knock on your door in the middle of the night and give you a pair of brass knuckles for you to use next time (you never used them, but knowing that he cared was comforting).

I think the most important of these moments was when Bruce showed up at your elementary school graduation. Thanks to your mother, you were more gifted than the others, advancing a few years in school, making you finish school before your age. Imagine: a pre-teen in the middle of almost adults with other adults looking at you (it's desperate) but you saw him, Bruce Wayne together with Alfred looking at you for the first time. He didn't stay until the end, but he was still there, he was there for you.

That's why you hated them.

How dare they? Play with your heart like that, giving you hope that maybe you could be a normal family, a happy family. You hated that, you hated having hope, you hated that they cared and then left you aside.

And what you hate the most is that every time you fall for their talk.

That's why you're taking some time for yourself, far away from them at your aunt's house. In two weeks it will be your fourteenth birthday and you decided this time to spend it with your aunt, to try to forget about your life in Gotham with your family (besides, it had been years since you saw her, it was time to get over the longing).

You told her well in advance, already planning it since the beginning of the month, so now at the train station you didn't feel any worries as you got on the bus.

You didn't tell your family, they wouldn't even care, you just told Alfred so that the poor man wouldn't have a heart attack if he didn't see you in the room.

Maybe if you had told them, this wouldn't have happened.

Dick loves his family.

No matter how many problems they have, he will always love them, family is everything to him.

So why these days has he felt like he's forgetting something?

Was it training with Damian? No, that was for tomorrow, maybe patrol with Bruce? That was impossible to forget, could there have been something with Tim? He doesn't remember his brother asking him for something, maybe Cass? She said a friend was going to have his birthday-

birthday.

(Name's) birthday.

The realization hit him like a train, that was it! His birthday, he had completely forgotten about it, when will it be? If he remembers, will it be in two weeks? You're going to be-

How old are you again?

No, that's absurd, he knows how old you are, he would be stupid not to. You must be twelve? No! Thirteen? But he doesn't remember your thirteenth birthday.

In fact, he doesn't remember any of your birthdays.

Okay, maybe he doesn't remember now, but he was definitely there for your birthday, he's your big brother! Why wouldn't he be?

Okay, he decided that as soon as he finished patrolling with the rest of the family he would talk to everyone about it.

As he jumped between the rooftops his phone vibrated loudly, but he didn't bother to look at it, he would check it later.

Hurry up Dick, before it's too late.

Tim was monitoring the batcave today, helping with location and crimes remotely. Today would be a normal patrol, too calm. Tim hated these patrols, too calm and preparing for the storm.

This time a hurricane would come and no one would be prepared.

The first to arrive was Jason, who came just to help with the investigation of a particular case. He leaned on the table next to Tim and watched the cameras and sensors on the television he controlled. The second was Bruce and Damian. Bruce went to talk to Alfred and Damian went to the table in the center where Tim's phone was. Tim, listening to Dick's message, who was near the mansion, almost didn't hear the youngest Wayne talking.

"Someone's calling you." Tim looked at Damian, who turned on his phone. Without worrying, he went back to the computer. "I can answer later." Damian apparently wasn't satisfied and turned on the phone only to see that the flames were his, his name engraved on the screen. "It's our sister's." "Cass's?"

"(Name's)" Now that caught Jason's attention. He looked at the youngest Wayne. For some reason, a bad feeling took over him, the same feeling that something bad was going to happen. "Oh, that's it. I'm kind of busy here. Can you see what she wants for me?"

Grimacing, Damian would have put the phone down, but something inside him told him to check, to check, so he picked up the phone and unlocked it to find over twenty missed calls from him “oh my”

“What’s wrong?” Bruce approached the boys, having vaguely heard the conversation. “There are over twenty calls and at least fifteen messages” now that really caught everyone’s attention.

“What?” Jason answered for everyone, breaking the silence that settled in the room, but Damian didn’t bother to answer, instead going to the messages, he was going to go through them when a word caught his attention.

Help

Just with that the bad feeling inside Damian grew, his behavior changing and showing the others that the matter was serious “Oh shit."

“What’s going on” Dick finally arrived, only to find the tense atmosphere in the room, as he walked Damian went through the messages finding words like “help” “help” “invaded” and “bus”

“Damian what happened” he opened the voicemail, seeing many of them only in the last hour, he put it on maximum volume for him and the others to hear.

"T-Tim please pick up" your voice came out shaky, low almost in a whisper and desolate, full of fear "I-I... I tried calling Dick a-and even Bruce" the sobs of your voice were restricted by your mouth, sighing heavily a bang was heard on the other end startling you "I-I need help... p-please" and so the voicemail ended

“The mansion was invaded?!” Jason didn’t ask anyone in particular, but Tim went to see the footage of the mansion for the last few hours anyway. “No, no one came into the house.”

“Where is she?” Dick was quick to pick up the phone, just like Damian, he came across at least twenty voicemails for him. To get attention, Alfred coughed lightly and automatically everyone’s heads turned in his direction. “Master (Name) went out to spend her birthday with her aunt who lives in New York.”

And that’s how chaos exploded.

The next minute, everyone’s voices echoed through the cave. “What?!” “What do you mean?!” “When did she tell you that!?” Bruce replied as he walked towards Tim’s computer. “She didn’t tell you anything, Alfred, why didn’t you tell me?”

Alfred looked at his master, almost exploding at such stupidity, he knew Bruce didn't have time for you but he also made it clear that he didn't care about you, it was no surprise that you hadn't even warned him before, but respecting you (and master Bruce) he answered. "Master (Name) thought it wasn't necessary, he told me only if you gentlemen asked for her." Tim went back to the computer, now not scanning the streets of Gotham, but looking for you, Dick scrolled through the voicemail and clicked on the most recent one, made 15 minutes ago, his voice once again filled the air making everyone hear you.

This time the line started in silence, only your agitated breathing being heard, it is possible to hear a whisper much quieter than before on the line "Dick please, I-I... I beg p-please, please, p-please, p-please, please-" you were silenced by the noise of something near you, your breathing was weak, footsteps echoed wherever you were, you approached the phone and whispered into the cell phone "save me" when you finished speaking voices approached and then a scream came from you, your phone fell somewhere far from you but even so it was possible to hear your screams and your fight for the cell phone until the line finally ended

“Holy shit…” tension built up in the room, the family was completely stunned by the line, Jason was the first to go looking for him, Dick tried to stop him but he went looking for him too, Damian and Bruce left soon after and Tim went back to his computer at full speed.

They need to find you, Now!

But it was too late

“Tim tell me you found her” Jason shouted on the line as he moved with Dick, the two of them as well as the rest were moving at each of the bus stops to look for their route, the result was nothing.

Tim huffed on the line, irritated with his brother. “If you stopped asking me every two minutes maybe I would find her”

“Your-”

“Enough fighting! That’s not the focus right now” Dick said to Jason and Tim, although his harsh tone gave him away showing how exasperated he was. “Our focus is to find (Name)” Jason looked ahead accepting his brother, they had to find her, he needed to.

Jason wouldn’t forgive himself if his sister died.

“I found her!” Tim shouted excitedly, the spark of hope on his face until he saw the bus where he was “oh no” his heart started beating faster, fear started to settle in his body, but he remained paralyzed without being able to move.

“Tim? Tim, what happened? Tim saw on the computer the image of his bus fallen to the ground, with fire gathering around it. The red robin could only move when he heard Bruce's voice. With his fingers shaking, Tim sent the image of the accident to each person's cell phone.

Bruce could feel his heart beating out of his chest, the sight of the bus lying on the ground, burned and destroyed was enough to make his heart stop, Damian was in no different situation, all he could think about was your face, scared and afraid of him.

He wanted to see you.

Everyone wanted to see you, but it was too late.

The hurricane passed and destroyed everything

“This morning, news shook all of Gotham, a bus destined for New York was intentionally unloaded in the middle of the road. In total, of the twenty-two passengers, five were injured and seven were kidnapped, among those kidnapped was the second youngest daughter of the great businessman Bruce Wayne, (Name) Wayne, the police are investigating the case-” the television was turned off by Jason, who threw the remote control hard on the couch, now with all the brothers gathered (Barbara, Cass, Stephanie and Duke there too) they were waiting for news from Bruce, who went to a press conference to speak at home with Alfred. Dick, trying to calm his brother, approached him and put his hand on his shoulder “Jason, we're going to find her-”

“Are we going to find her? She might be dead now!” Jason said without thinking, but the mood in the room dropped even more than it already was. Both the guilt and the despair of losing you were what terrified not only Jason, but everyone in that room.

“She’s not dead.” Damian was the one who calmed the situation, approaching the two of them. “You saw it yourself, she was taken, but she’s alive.”

“And who can guarantee that she’s not dead, huh, demon?” The youngest Wayne narrowed his eyes. Jason was right too. Who can guarantee that she’s not already dead? Who can guarantee that she’s not already six feet under, buried?

“(Name) isn’t dead.” Bruce and Alfred entered the mansion. Wayne’s suit was all wrinkled, but he didn’t care. Maybe it was because he had more important things to worry about. “She isn’t dead, and we’re going to find her.”

“Even if it’s just her corpse.”

Oh, okay that was a lot of work to do, enjoy.

@bunbunboysworld - @h-ib - @sheep-from-rad - @tatsuri-zomushiki - @the-holy-pigeon - @geminis93

Tchau.

#batfam x reader #batfamily x reader #dc x reader #alfred pennyworth #batfam #batfamily #bruce wayne #damian wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #batfam x neglected reader #Batfam

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rottenfyre · 26 days ago

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⸻ ʀ ᴇ ᴅ ʜ ᴏ ᴏ ᴅ ⸻

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem Reader

Headcanon: How would he be when he's obsessed?

Note: English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

The first time Jason stepped into Wayne Manor, he looked more like a stray cat than a boy. When Bruce introduced him to you—you couldn’t help but notice the defiance in his eyes, like he expected you to reject him immediately. But instead of recoiling from his rough edges, you smiled and offered your hand. It was the first moment Jason felt truly seen.

Jason didn’t know what to do with kindness, especially not from someone who looked at him like he was worth something.

“You’re going to love it here,” you said warmly, still holding out your hand.

He didn’t take it, but he didn’t forget the gesture either. That moment rooted itself in him, and he clung to it in the months to come.

You were the first person to make him laugh in years. It started small—quiet chuckles he tried to hide—but eventually, you had him cackling so hard that tears streamed down his face.

You were unlike anyone Jason had ever met. While Bruce was the stern, brooding authority figure, you were warmth and understanding. You treated him like an equal, never pitying him for his past or scolding him for his sharp tongue. You’d sit with him during his training, patch him up after patrols, and listen to him vent about the unfairness of Gotham’s streets. Jason began to feel that you were the one good thing in his life—a tether to keep him grounded.

Even in those early days, Jason couldn’t help but feel a flicker of jealousy whenever you spent time with others. Whether it was Dick dropping by the Manor or Bruce pulling you away for a mission, Jason would watch, his jaw clenched and fists tight. You were his sanctuary, and the thought of sharing you with anyone else left a sour taste in his mouth.

Jason always found reasons to keep you close. He insisted on sparring with you during training, claiming no one else could push him like you did. He memorized the way you moved, the sound of your laughter when you managed to pin him, and the way your eyes narrowed in concentration. He lived for those moments.

Whenever you went on patrol, Jason was there, watching your back like a hawk. At first, you thought he was just being protective, but over time, his behavior grew more intense. If a thug so much as glanced at you the wrong way, Jason’s fists would leave them unrecognizable. “They deserved it,” he’d mutter, his knuckles dripping with blood, his gaze softening only when it landed on you.

Jason began planting seeds of doubt about everyone around you. He’d point out flaws in Dick’s plans, subtly criticize Bruce’s parenting, and even question Alfred’s judgment, all to make you feel like he was the only one you could truly rely on.

When Jason died, it shattered you. The boy who had been your closest friend, your partner in everything, was gone. Bruce tried to comfort you, but nothing could fill the void Jason left behind.

When Jason came back as the Red Hood, his first thought was of you.

You. The only light he’d ever known. The one thing that kept him tethered to humanity. And you hadn’t saved him.

His obsession became worse, this bitter, consuming need to make you pay for abandoning him—and to keep you. Jason spiraled, his love for you warping into something darker, something unrecognizable.

Jason stalks you now, though he doesn’t see it that way. He calls it watching over you. You’re his, and Gotham is dangerous, especially with the Bat family’s enemies constantly circling.

He knows everything: where you go, who you talk to, what makes you smile. The line between love and control blurs with each passing day.

Sometimes, he visits you in secret. You’ll come home to find your favorite meal waiting on the counter or a new book sitting on your bedside table. Other times, you’ll catch glimpses of him in the shadows—just a flicker of red and black before he’s gone.

And then there are the times he lets himself be seen. He’ll stand in the middle of your apartment, waiting for you to come home. His voice is low, almost dangerous, as he says, “You don’t lock your windows, princess. Someone could get hurt.”

You try to confront him, try to reason with him, but Jason isn’t the boy you knew. He’s sharper now, more unhinged.

“You think you can just forget me?” he growls, pinning you against the wall. “You think you can move on, live your life without me? That’s not how this works princess.”

Jason’s obsession manifests in unpredictable ways. One moment, he’s protective and tender, swearing to keep you safe at all costs. The next, he’s violent and possessive, tearing apart anyone who gets too close to you.

He’s killed for you, though he’d never admit it. That coworker who flirted with you too much? Dead in an alleyway. The stranger who catcalled you on the street? Beaten within an inch of their life.

“I’m doing this for you,” he says, his voice trembling with something raw and desperate. “You don’t have to worry about anyone hurting you. I’ll take care of it.”

You try to push him away, but it only makes him cling harder. Jason doesn’t see the line between love and obsession. To him, it’s all the same.

Jason’s ultimate goal is simple: to have you. To keep you with him, away from the dangers of Gotham—and away from anyone else.

“I’m not asking, princess,” he says one night, dragging you into his arms. “I’m taking you. No one else gets to have you. Not Bruce, not Dick, not anyone. You’re mine, and I’ll burn this city to the ground before I let you go.”

And maybe, deep down, a part of you doesn’t want him to. Because for all his madness, Jason is still Jason—the boy who made you laugh, who understood your pain, who loved you in a way no one else ever could.

But at what cost?

@ʀᴏᴛᴛᴇɴꜰʏʀᴇ 2024. ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴏʀ ᴜꜱᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡᴇʙꜱɪᴛᴇꜱ.

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cumtastiics · 1 month ago

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EMPTY PROMISES / prequel. ft. g/n reader + batfam #TW :: death (of reader's mother!), neglect :p

LET'S READ SOME MORE! prequel (here) ch. 1 2 3

your mother was the most important person in your world. she was everything you knew—your protector, your comfort, the one who made you feel safe and loved. she was the heart of your home, the one you could always count on.

and she still is, in a way. the memories of her remain, haunting and bittersweet, lingering in your thoughts like a shadow that follows you everywhere.

but she isn’t in this world anymore. she’s gone, taken too soon.

you still remember the day, you were just a child then, still small and innocent, walking home from elementary school.

when you opened the door, the stench hit you immediately—a putrid, acrid smell that seemed to seep into your very bones. it was overpowering, filling your nostrils and choking your breath. for a moment, you stood there, frozen, unsure of what to do. the smell was so strong, so overwhelming, that it made your stomach churn and your chest tighten. something was terribly wrong, but your young mind couldn’t process it.

“mama?” you called out, your voice soft and uncertain. it wasn’t like her to not greet you when you came home. she was always there, waiting, ready to give you a hug, to ask about your day.

but that day, something felt different. something felt terribly wrong.

“mama? i’m back home,” you called again, a little louder this time, though still hesitant. but no answer came, and that silence, that unbearable quiet, was more terrifying than any sound.

you stood at the door, unsure whether you should step inside or run away. the house was eerily still. it wasn’t like your mother to not respond, to not be there. but then, as you stepped further into the house, you saw it—her.

your mother was there, but not the way you expected.

there, on the floor, she lay in a pool of blood, lifeless, her eyes vacant and empty. the sight was more horrific than anything you could have ever imagined. you couldn’t understand it, not fully. she was the one who held you when you cried, who kissed your forehead at night and tucked you in. how could she be... gone?

the blood that surrounded her was thick and dark, a stark contrast to the softness of the home she had always made for you. the horror of what you saw was too much for a child your age to process. you had never even heard of such things happening.

it was the kind of image that no child should ever have to witness—the kind of pain that no one should ever have to endure. and yet, it was the memory that would define you, the moment that would haunt you for the rest of your life.

the world you lived in, the one that had revolved around your mother would never be the same.

it wasn’t long after that till bruce took you in.

he was different from your mother, he was straight-forward, and hardly spoke to you. maybe it was the first week only where he had bothered to make any effort to speak with you, but after that he stopped.

from his point of view, he never forgot about you, he was just… busy. busy is the word.

from your point of view, it was obvious neglect. you had tried to stay positive, but it was hard. alfred would tell you that bruce was busy, and surely he’ll make time for you.

he wasn’t right.

you learned at an early age that promises in the manor that were made, were almost always broken ones.

you learned that promises, no matter how sweet and caring they may sound, were just words.

meaningless, stupid words.

you would sit in your room, wondering if bruce would talk to you today. alfred, with his kind eyes and patient nature, would bring you meals and check in on you occasionally. he was the closest thing to a father figure you had now, but even he couldn’t fill the space your mother had left behind.

the manor almost always quiet, or at least the empty part your bedroom was a part of, was. that was, till jason died.

the manor was almost a mourning place, full of regret.

it was then, when bruce and the rest of them, who barely knew a thing about you, forgot you.

a/n: zooweemama i let my friend read draft and she kept making mama a girl behind you jokes

taglist //// @foggyv-oid @kitty-from-daaaa-voidddd @ghostdoodlen @luxuryz3 @soriansick @degenerates-posts @kore-of-the-underworld @toast-on-dandelioms

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taintandviolent · 5 months ago

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Master ; Eddie Munson x Reader

summary: [PART ONE HERE!] It's been a few days since Eddie Munson and reader had their little hookup in the back of his van, and she's jonesing for more. After a D&D campaign, Eddie invites her back to his trailer.

word count & w a r n i n g s: 4.8K | female reader, smut, use of pet names (princess, sweetheart, baby, etc.), light bondage, no use of y/n, fucking to music (because he would), eating out, p in v, slight cockwarming at the end.

a/n: i am so overwhelmed by the response to my first eddie fic!!! you guys are CRAZY! thank you though, from the bottom of my heart. i hope this part lives up to the last part! ps: i've never played d&d, so just ignore how bland that section is. thanks. ps #2: the album that eddie puts on is Ride the Lightning, so if you wanna' listen to that while you read.... please do. not beta-read, yada yada yada yada. divider by @/strangergraphics!!

full fic under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! / I don’t have a taglist anymore, but please turn on post notifications if you’d like to be notified of future fics!

For the most part, everything had returned to normal with the very welcomed exceptions of a few heated glances, some knowing smiles, and the occasional touch when he passed by you. All of which had you reeling, viciously fanning the embers of your desire for him. Many times throughout the week, you’d considered approaching him for one reason or another, but you were holding out for reasons unbeknownst to you.

In other news, Jason had requested a new lab partner - or tried - but Mrs. Cowan didn’t bother entertaining his request, much to your dismay. So the last period was spent with him, trying to remain cordial, but silently cursing everything he did.

That morning, you’d woken up with a fiery craving for Eddie. It couldn’t be sated by merely thinking of him, or watching him from afar. You need to feel him again. Out front of Hawkins High, you bend down to retrieve your backpack, nestling your patterned Trapper Keeper in the crook of your arm.

And as if on cue…

“I’m your turbo lover! Better run for cover!”

You freeze and straighten up, a chill shuddering up your spine. There’s no way someone is just playing that song. Your thighs press together tightly, as if doing so is inhibiting anything. You spin around, searching for the source of the music. And boy, do you find it. Eddie’s van screeches around the corner, just in front of you.

You watch as Eddie then pulls into a parking spot, his arm hanging out the window of the van. He lifts it, giving you a casual wave, even though that gesture is anything but casual. For a moment, you’re almost mad. He’s all but ruined that song for you, because now all you can think about is him fingerbanging you in the back of his van. You let out a frustrated huff as the music dies off and the door creaks open.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He says as he passes, his voice dripping with nonchalance. Your mouth gapes open, appalled that he didn’t tackle you in kisses right then and there. You watch, wordlessly, as he takes the steps two at a time and march after him, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. He wasn’t getting away from you that quickly. Thankfully, this semester, you had two classes with him; English in the morning and History after lunch. The little game he was playing was vicious and mean, and you hated it.

“Eddie, wait!” You call, trotting down the hallways. He slows his pace and gradually turns, a sly expression on his face.

“Yeees?”

“What are you doing?”

“Uh.. y’know… just going to class.” He answers coolly, nodding his head towards Miss Tipton’s door. You steal a glance at his body; he’s wearing a Metallica shirt with his go-to black jeans, and he’s got a black backpack slung over his right shoulder. His hand is clamped around the handle of that lunchbox he always carries, his rings clanking together as he adjusts his grip. You remember what those rings felt like, entangled in your own fingers. At the lewd thought, you have to withhold a sigh. He’s so… you dig your nails into the plastic of your binder, growling slightly.

“You can’t just…” You stutter, looking at him with big, pleading eyes. “I’m going crazy over here.”

“Yeah? So what do you want me to do about it?” Suddenly walking you backwards, he urges you against someone’s locker, his belt buckle pressing hard into your stomach. Your breath comes out in a rush. “You want me to do it right here?”

He brushes the backs of his fingers along your jawline, teasingly. Your eyes drift behind him, watching people’s eyes flit to you and widen as they pass. A few people snigger and make some comments, likely disparaging in nature. Of course, they must be thinking, who would want to be that close to the Freak of Hawkins? You groan inwardly and lean your head back against the slotted metal.

“No… we can’t.”

“Then you’re gonna’ have to be patient, aren’t you, sweetheart?” His voice is husky and low, his breaths washing over your face. You frown slightly, but nod. You’d gotten something… the warmed, lingering sensation of his hips pressed against yours was enough to get you through the rest of the day, at least. He backs off, smirking, and reaches for the door, pulling it open. With eyebrows raised, he holds the door for you, letting you duck underneath his arm.

Once in the classroom, you pick a seat and settle in. After a few moments, Miss Tipton turns to the chalkboard to write something and in doing so, turns her back away from the class. A few seconds later, something hits your shoulder, bouncing off of it. You look down at your feet and spot a folded up piece of notebook paper. Making sure that the teacher is still occupied, you bend down and scrape your fingers against the floor, scooping it into your grasp. You quickly unfold it, your eyes scanning over the scrawled letters.

Today after last period. Meet me in the theatre.

EDDIE

PS: I miss the way you taste.

Your stomach tightens. Tucking your face into your shoulder, you sneakily peer back behind you. To your right, a few seats down, Eddie meets your gaze and feigns innocence, widening his eyes at you before casually scratching the side of his face with a capped pen. You withhold a smile and turn back around, tucking the note into your binder. Class continues without a hitch. In fact, it goes by surprisingly quickly.

After class, you hurry to the payphone outside, dial home and bring the receiver to your ear. It rings twice before you hear your mother’s voice.

“Hello?”

“Mom, it’s me.”

“Honey, is everything okay?” You can hear the worry in her voice.

You smile, leaning against the nearby brick wall. “Yes, I’m fine. I just wanted to call you and let you know that I’m going to be home later today. I’m uh… thinking about joining a club.”

“A club? At school? Honey, that’s great. Just be careful, okay?”

You straighten up, hunching over the payphone again. “I will, I promise. Love you.”

“Love you too. Bye-bye.”

Every class speeds by, having been spent fantasizing. You’re in deep, too deep maybe. Short of drawing hearts around his name, you’ve allowed yourself to become completely wound around his guitar-calloused fingers, you’ve imagined every scenario possible and succeeded in riling yourself up throughout the day. Prepwork, you’d call it.

So, later that afternoon, when you make it to the theatre, quietly opening one of the double doors, you’re almost disappointed that it’s a room full of boys. Sure, Eddie’s there, sitting at the head of the table, but it’s a room full of boys all the same. Foolishly, Hellfire Club wasn’t a frontrunner in your thoughts, you hadn’t even considered it or the fact that he had invited you to one of the sessions, and you’d agreed. You grimace and take a few steps forward, bringing yourself out of the shadows.

“Ah, she arrives.” Eddie’s voice booms, echoing in the acoustics of the theatre. He’s oozing confidence, and you bite your lip, silently talking your own arousal down.

“Hey guys,” you say, trying to mask your nerves with a casual wave. “Eddie invited me.”

“Indeed I did.” He’s perched on an ornately carved chair, his elbows resting on his knees, fingers laced together. Eddie then jumps over the arm of the chair and bends down, retrieving something from his backpack. Casually, but almost theatrically, he strolls over. Once he’s in front of you, he reaches for your hand, pulling it up and carefully lays the item in your hands, his fingertips grazing the edge of your palm. It’s a Hellfire Club shirt, just like the one he wears. A smirk crawls across your lips; you were now technically in possession of two of his shirts.

After changing behind the heavy velvet curtains, you get situated in one of the empty seats, and Eddie explains the campaign, setting the scene with all of his elaborate, fantastic descriptions. This guy was a natural born storyteller, and you could tell he had a passion for this silly little game. Too quickly, it came to be your turn. You had no idea what you were doing, and you realize that you haven’t been paying attention at all. Your attention was… elsewhere the entire time. Panic grips your throat as everyone’s eyes are on you, waiting for your roll.

“Uhhh,” You look apprehensively at the dice in your palm. Unlike regular dice, they have way too many sides and you don’t know what you need to achieve. Eddie assured you that you’d get the hang of it, but so far… you haven’t. “I have no idea but roll a one-hundred to charm the DM?”

“One-hundre— WHAT! That doesn’t even make sense. She’s not even playing!” The kid with the curly hair – Dusty? Dustin? – sounded frustrated. He took this very seriously. They’d all briefly introduced themselves as you’d sat down, but your attention had been on and still was on Eddie the entire time, so you hardly retained any of their names. You are enchanted with his energy tonight; the way he masterfully navigates the campaign, engaging with each of the rolls and weaving an intricate story that none of the other players can predict, but adore all the same.

You two make eye contact. Eddie withholds a smile. You can see it — the middle of his plush lips start to spread across his teeth but he reels it back in. It takes an immense amount of self control, but you don’t make finger guns at him. Instead, you toss the dice back onto the table, not bothering to watch what you’d rolled. With a groan, you lean back in the chair, which creaks in protest. “Fine,” you lamented, lacing your fingers behind your head. “I’ll just watch. I don’t understand this anyway.”

“Lady Terowyn,” he starts, saying the name that he’d given you at the start. He holds your gaze strongly, leaning forward in his chair and gripping the sides of the table, his rings clanking against the wood. “You seem to have acquired a ferocious malady. You can roll again in hopes that Blossom Tealeaf will assist you with a cure…”

“Who was Blossom Tealeaf again?” You ask, almost exasperated and look around at the other players. Dustin rolls his eyes, slumping down in his chair. “Alright, alright. Sheesh. I’ll accept this… illness and just watch this time.”

“Alright, then. Lady Terowyn succumbs to the vicious curse and perishes. What shall you do?”

The boys fall into a heated discussion and Eddie’s eyes find yours again. Without saying anything, he’s saying a lot. He’s smiling like he did before he kissed you, and the thought drives you insane. You have half a mind to climb across the table and go sit in his lap, sweeping your hips back and forth until his cock hardens underneath you, but you wouldn’t dare interrupt his campaign; it means too much to him and the others.

So, you sat. You sat, commenting, cheering the boys on when they figured something out, and gasped when their fearless dungeon master bested them yet again. Eventually, they warmed up to you, the coldness gone from their responses, even going so far as to involve you in some of the discussions. This went on for a few hours, until finally, they lost against the merciless beast that they’d been fighting. After the group dispersed outside, Eddie towed you to his van, promising he’d take you home.

He pulls you into a kiss, his tongue dancing along your lower lip and slipping inside to wrestle with yours. You moan into his mouth, and slide your hands into the warmth inside his leather jacket. Never breaking the kiss, he gently pushes you against the side of his van, the metal cool behind your back. One of his hands moves to your leg, hitching it up around his waist to bring you even closer to him. He bucks his hips into you once, and your breath hitches.

“It really is fun,” he starts, brushing his lips against your neck, trailing delicate kisses down the length of it. “Y’know… if you’d actually try playing it.”

You whine, tilting your head to the side and allowing more space for him to kiss. “Listen, I was distracted, okay?”

“Oh, by what?”

“Like you don’t know.”

Eddie chuckles, a breathy sound just underneath your earlobe. His lips ghost down your neck, stopping at a place between it and your shoulder, and he sucks the skin into his mouth. You wince at the sudden pressure, but don’t protest. It’ll inevitably leave a mark, and it seems he knows it. Smiling at the reddened skin, he leans back to look at you, to gaze into your half-lidded eyes.

“You wanna’ go back to my place? Wayne’s outta’ town…”

You aren’t sure who Wayne is… but the implications of that hang heavy between you two. For a moment, you say nothing, letting your gaze drift back and forth between his eyes and his lips, but finally, you nod. Eddie grins and is dragging you around to the passenger side before you have a chance to change your mind. He throws open the door and circles his hand in front of it, beckoning you inside. “Your chariot awaits, m’lady.”

You can’t help but smile – the theatrics of his campaign are clearly still lingering. Once you’re in, Eddie shuts the door and hurries back around to the other side, retrieving his keys from his pocket. Tossing a confident smile your way, he stabs them into the ignition, turns them and the engine of the van roars to life.

The drive from the high school to the trailer park takes about ten minutes, but feels like twenty. Every time he pulls up on a stop sign, his hand drifts over to your thigh. He kneads it, his rings bumping together. Just when it starts to get good, just when his hand starts to drift up your skirt, he pulls it away, and accelerates.

Once you’re inside, Eddie flips on the lights and turns to you, expectantly. He knows what’s coming. He’s been riling you up the entire ride. The second the door is shut, your lips are on him, smearing hot, wet kisses all over his neck and jawline. Eddie’s laughing breathily, his hands roaming around your waist and ass. “So needy,” he says.

“I’ve been thinking about this since we….” Your voice trailed off, meeting his mouth in a sloppy kiss. Eddie keeps you there, holding your face tightly. He walks you backwards past the kitchen towards his bedroom until the back of your calves hit the mattress, and you wrap your arms around his neck. His hands trail up your waist, winding around the front of your body. It’s warm to the touch, and Eddie smiles as his large hands cup your breasts, giving them a gentle squeeze.

“Fuck, Eddie, oh my god…”

You claw at his leather jacket, trying to push it off his shoulders. You can’t get enough of him, and want him naked on top of you immediately. Enough teasing, enough foreplay. You’re desperate for him.

“Someone’s grabby. We’ll fix that.” He pushes you lightly backwards onto the bed, your ass bouncing against the mattress, the springs squeaking in protest.

He reaches around, pulling the black bandana from his back pocket, and shakes it out from its folded state. The heat that blossoms between your thighs is only worsening, becoming unbearable. One knee pressed into the bed, his body tilted slightly forward towards you. “Hands together, m’lady.”

At first, you stare, dumbfounded, up at him. He was… so cute. The dim, yellow lighting of the table lamp behind him creates a halo around his fluffy hair, akin to a renaissance painting. Some artist had to have painted an angel from this point of view… but there was nothing angelic about what was taking place. Nothing, because you were about to —

“Hello?” You blink once, twice. Had he been speaking the entire time? He quirks a brow, very obviously waiting for your response. His warm, chocolatey eyes hold yours in a death grip as he wraps the bandana around your wrists, tying it tightly in a knot. He hadn’t told you to look at him, at least not verbally. Deep down, you knew that you couldn’t look away if you tried. He knew that too. “Hands to yourself until I say so.”

“Yes, master.” He freezes, with his fingers still on the buckle of his belt and raises his head back up to look at you.

You try to speak, to undo what you’ve said, but only squeaks and a nervous string of ‘Uhhh’s come out. You drop your bound wrists into your lap with a dramatic huff, and roll your head back, staring embarrassed at the ceiling of his trailer. Truthfully, you hadn’t even known where that came from; you’d never called anyone ‘master’ in your entire life, and even mocked the concept. Master and Servant was a Depeche Mode song, not something you practiced in the bedroom.

“I don’t knoow — dungeon master? I don’t know where that came from, I’m — Eddie, please — PLEASE!” Your head snapped back up.

“Hey,” He cooed, brushing your bangs from your eyes. “It’s okay. I liked that. I just couldn’t tell if you were being serious or not.”

Eddie brings his face close to yours, nuzzling his nose against your cheeks. “Lay back for me, sweetheart.”

You do, bound hands resting on your stomach. Eddie shrugs out of his jacket, and pulls his shirt up from behind his back, tossing it onto the floor to join the rest of the clothes. You haven’t seen him shirtless before; the visual has your cunt clenching as your eyes dance over his tattoos, memorizing them.

You watch him with hearts in your eyes as he strolls half-naked over to his stereo, pops in a tape, shuts the door and hits play; the heavy sound of Metallica fills the small room. You smirk. He would. As the song builds, Eddie returns to the edge of the bed, creeping closer, walking his hands on the mattress until he’s close enough to press a kiss to each of your kneecaps. Just like before, he unzips your skirt and peels down your tights, taking his time with the action. Your breath catches in your chest when you feel his calloused fingers ghosting along the outside of your thighs, sweeping along the flesh as it prickles with goosebumps. It’s not cold by any means, but the sensation of his fingers has your skin reacting.

“Now that’s a sight for sore eyes…” he says, admiring the way you look, pantsless but still wearing the Hellfire Club shirt. “God damn… you should be on the cover of an album or something.” He tilts his head, staring for a moment longer before he’s pulling the shirt over your head, and yanking your panties over the wide curve of your hips.

The rest of your clothes join his on the floor of his bedroom, and you’re naked, lying on his stained sheets, writhing in anticipation. Eddie pulls your thighs apart carefully but forcefully, like he’s opening the jaws of a lion. He slots himself underneath your legs, hoisting your thighs onto the curve of his shoulders. As soon as you realize what’s about to transpire, he feels the sudden tension in your body and slides his hands up your waist tenderly.

“Just relax. I know what I’m doing.” His voice is commanding and heavy with desire.

Your eyes roll back in your head, teeth clamping down on your bottom lip; you feel your cunt clench at his lusty tone. You can feel your face flush with heat. Something about him makes you trust him, turn to putty in his grip – in fact, you’ve never trusted a man more in your life. You nod, inhaling a deep breath as he presses a kiss to your cunt. Some of your pathetic, shuddering whines are lost in the heavy guitar and drums of Metallica, which you’re grateful for. The feeling of his lips against her makes your whole body jerk violently, and Eddie’s hands are suddenly pressing down on your hips, holding them tight to the mattress.

“Easy, baby…”

You clench your jaws and shut your eyes, trying to slow your breathing, but that does little to pacify the feelings and how deeply he’s turning you on. His lips hover, his breath washing over her in small, warm gusts before he kisses her again, nuzzling his nose against the soft mound before his tongue slips in between the folds, flicking upwards. Still tied together, all you can do is lift your hands and wad them into tight fists. You could reach forward and push his head further into you, but he’d specifically ordered no touching. You whimper and writhe against the mattress, to which Eddie softly shakes his head against your cunt, muttering a ‘Mm-mm’, and again grips your hips tightly again, holding them in place.

“You like that?”

He swallows hard, before his tongue juts out again, toying with your clit, mercilessly flicking it back and forth and up and down. He encircles the swollen bundle of nerves and hums into your cunt, pleased at the visceral reaction from your body. Even over the music, you can hear the slick, suckling and slurping sounds he’s making, and above all, how wet you are, which is slightly mortifying, considering he’s only just started. Your juices leak onto his mattress, leaving yet another stain on his sheets.

“Words, sweetheart…” He pauses to say. One hand drifts between his legs, where he palms himself over his dark jeans. Eating you out has his cock achingly hard, and he wants nothing more than to sink it into you.

Words? You don’t even know what those are. You can barely form a single word, let alone an entire sentence as his tongue laps at you again, flattening out against your sensitive flesh. It takes you a few tries, but you finally manage to squeak out: “Huhhh- mmm-yeah. Gonna’... gonna’...”

Eddie pulls back slightly, pressing a single slick kiss against your inner thigh. “Yeah? So soon?”

You whimper, nodding. “Mmmh…. So…. so good…”

Bringing his hands underneath your ass, Eddie hoists your hips up, giving him a better angle to suck on your puffy clit. That does it – you’re unable to stop the floodgates. You cry out, bringing your bound hands to your face and pressing the balls of your palms against your mouth, pinching your bottom lip between them. Eddie swallows down your orgasm, bringing the tip of his tongue to your entrance as it squeezes.

As Eddie stands up and wipes the slick from his chin, the song changes, a single reverberating bell rings throughout the room. It brings a smirk to his lips. “For whom the bell tolls…” He says, running a single finger along the length of your quivering thigh. “The bell tolls for you, sweetheart.”

Completely spent, you lift your head weakly, brows peaked together in question. “Wh…what…”

Eddie palms himself again, stroking the swollen shaft through the fabric. His gaze is heavy, sweeping over your naked body as your chest heaves with laboured breaths. His long fingers move quickly, working to unbuckle his belt and unzip his jeans. The jeans fall loose at his hips, just enough for you to catch a glimpse of a lewd outline and a spot where the blue plaid fabric has darkened with pre-cum. He kicks them off and steps out of the circle, smiling at you.

“Nothin’, baby. C’mere.”

Eddie gets onto the bed with one knee first, and walks his way over to you. You turn your head to look at him and heave a shaky sigh as he reaches underneath your torso, twisting you so you’re laying rightways on the bed, your head on a pillow.

“You ready?”

“R-ready for what?” You breathe.

“To have your world rocked, sweetheart.”

“Again?” You coo, looking up at him with big, dreamy eyes.

Eddie hooks his finger around the bandana and twists it around his index finger, tightening the fabric around your wrists. He yanks your hands up over your head, pressing them against the wall above. With his other hand still free, he pulls the waistband of his boxers down over the curve of his ass, allowing his heavy cock free. It slaps against his tummy, bobbing dangerously in front of your core. It occurs to you then how turned on he is over eating your pussy… his cock is leaking and twitching in front of you, begging for release.

Fuck.

At first, Eddie leans down, pressing his cock against your tummy as he kisses you. The kisses are sweet, tender, but passionate with a lingering hint of animalistic demand. He’s being gentle now, but you can feel the unbridled want behind his actions.

“Do it,” you say. “Fuck me.”

Eddie runs his tongue along his bottom lip and grins, taking hold of his cock with his free hand and giving it a few long strokes. A bead of precum oozes from the tip, stringing down to your stomach. He lines the tip up, and a warning pressure builds at your waiting entrance. You clench around the velvet soft head, and Eddie lets out a deep groan.

“Holy shit…” he says.

He tries to be gentle, but as soon as the tip breaches your slick hole and he feels how wet, how warm you are, he can’t help but sink every inch deep into you. He bucks his hips once, forcing his cock deep inside, and halts, allowing you a moment to adjust to the feeling of fullness. You gasp and tighten around him again, pulling a throaty sound from him.

He begins rocking his hips back and forth, his shaft sliding wetly out of you. It doesn’t take him more than a few seconds to find a mind-shattering rhythm that has you gasping and clawing the wall above you. He holds onto your bound wrists still, pinning them tightly against the wall. The power in his thrusts come from his core, bucking relentlessly up into you.

You lift your legs slightly, scooting up and pressing the roundness of your ass against his torso. As he thrusts, his palm presses low into your stomach, rings denting the flesh.

Over the drums and guitar, the slick, hollow slop slop of his cock hammering into you fills the room, and your vision goes blurry as your lids drift shut.

“F-fuck, Eddie… fuck!”

His wanton, concentrating gaze drifts between your legs, watching as he impales you over and over again. You moan loud, much louder than James Hetfield was singing. Eddie shudders and groans, making a deep, almost pained sound.

“You’re gonna kill me, you know that? Those moans are gonna’... Jesus Christ.”

You smile devilishly and meet his thrusts, rutting your hips against his. You see him clench his jaw, the muscles fluttering on the side of his face. The feelings are tantalizing him, and each jerk of his hips brings him closer to an orgasm.

“Jesus Christ,” he repeats, looking down at your sweat-glistened body, watching as your breasts rock back and forth with each movement of his hips. You strain against his grip, wanting so desperately to touch him.

“Master,” you whimper. “Let me touch your body… please….”

The singular word makes his cock twitch inside you. His other hand joins the right, and quickly undoes the knot of his bandana, tossing it behind him. Your greedy fingers immediately snap to his torso, clawing their way up his toned abdomen. Your digits trail over his tattoos, tracing them absentmindedly as Eddie keeps fucking into you, his jaw hanging slack, expression completely blissed out.

“Harder, Eddie,” you moan, pressing your head back into the pillow.

He obeys. Happily. He takes hold of your thighs, pressing them back against your body, exposing more of your cunt to him. His cock leaves you for a moment before he’s slamming back into you, heated and heavily.

It doesn’t take him long to reach a climax at this angle, or for you to reach your second one. You scream out, clawing at his abs as you clench around his dick, squeezing it in a vice-tight grip.

“Shit-shit-shit—” Eddie curses, looking down at your pussy. You feel the swelling throb of Eddie’s cock inside you as he paints you insides white. Your own orgasm has you shuddering against him, crying out his name.

Eddie collapses atop of you, his cock still inside, and nuzzles his nose into the crook of your neck.

“That was…”

“Yeah,” you echo. “Yeah. It was.”

After a few minutes, you turn your head, and press a single kiss against his plump lips. “Soooo, can I sit at your table now? I’m tired of sitting at Jason’s preppy table.”

“Absolutely.”

#praying that this lives up to the first part lmao #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things smut #myfics

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enviedear · 3 months ago

Text

YOU DIDN'T SEE MY VALENTINE (I SENT IT VIA PANTOMIME)

₊ ⊹ JASON TODD

🧸ྀི REQUEST | Could I request Jason Todd being jealous of Dick and reader who is slightly older and he’s harboured a crush on since his Robin days? AND jason todd/reader + jealousy

CW | jealous!jason—nothing crazy, not canon compliant but this is my tl now, some 'will they, won't they', and lots of jason being weird with feelings. 1.2k words. 🎧ྀི

in all honesty, you knew richard grayson before you ever truly knew JASON TODD. he was just a pubescent sidekick the last time you'd seen him—masked in thinly veiled anonymity. both boistful and timid, he always brought a smile out of you—teen angst and all.

but then he died. your life continued, morphing into the blissfully misunderstood present of your early twenties. heroism sits on your backburner, choosing to slow down for a career. normalcy, in a sense. and even though you've more than officially retired from your masked identity, dick grayson still remains everpresent. he offers up unrelenting friendship with ease.

normalcy has faded in recent months. reanimation of a corpse has the tendency to do that. and despite being one of the last to learn of jason's return, you were one of the first for him to turn to, to seek out. his attitude, his spirit, his mere presence—have thrown your life into a complete tailspin.

he usually stops by unannounced, often bloodied and bruised. he's gruff and pointed. no longer timid, but apathetic. far different from the young boy you remember—that scrappy, defiant, and utterly resolved mini hero. back then, you’d barely had time to catch your breath between your own assignments to make any sense of the boy glaring up at you in challenge. always like he had something to prove. his vigor had amused you then, but you couldn’t have known the weight behind it—not then.

now, it feels unavoidable. he doesn't talk about it, but he doesn't have to. it's in the way he carries his shoulders, tense and unsure. the way his once deep blue eyes have recast to a murky blend of frosted jade. he's changed, and yet you're still the one he seeks out. the thought has replayed and plagued your mind for days on end.

the kid you'd known had become something else entirely. taller, broader, with a rigid fixation toward you that feels…alarmingly familiar and unknown all at once. most times, you can't place why—that is, until he reminds you.

“dick’s taking you out again?” his voice cuts through the casual quiet of your apartment, where you’d been getting ready. the sound is rough, almost indifferent.

glancing over your shoulder, you spot jason leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and jaw tight. you never heard him come in, but he hasn't startled you. no, you expected him. you refocus on what he has asked—his question, though simple, has an unmistakable bite to it. you don't let it affect you, not now, or anymore.

at first it was hard to come to terms with the aggravation and disdain riddled within him. it spewed out so easily. now though, you understand it. no part of you enjoys it, but you love him. much more than he can seem to realize—too fractured to see through your companionship. a role reversal of utter hell.

you hesitate, brushing off the strange weight of his stare. “yeah. just dinner. catching up. he's been at work so much recently...”

you see a flicker of something unclear cross jason’s face. it’s quick—but the tension sticks, thick and heavy in the room. it's an old grudge, somehow outliving death. you suppose it makes sense—he spent years begging to patrol with the two of you, just to be firmly told no. he always got so agitated, completely annoyed. it seems he's the same, old habits die hard.

he clears his throat, still glaring severely, “right. catching up.”

there’s that bite again, sharper this time. he’s trying to be casual, but it doesn’t land.

“is something wrong?” you ask, turning to face him fully now, eyebrows raised and tone nearly exasperated.

he shrugs, but his eyes don’t meet yours. they’re focused somewhere over your shoulder. “just seems like dick’s always around, that’s all.”

you blink, surprised. “we’ve been friends for years, jason. you know that.”

“yeah, i know.” his voice is lower now, quieter. “i just…i don’t get why you still hang out with him so much.”

that gets your attention. the tension, the clipped responses—it all clicks into place. you rise, studying him. “are you… jealous?”

the moment the word leaves your mouth, you watch his posture stiffen. his eyes finally meet yours, a mix of frustration and something softer, almost vulnerable, in them.

“no.” he mutters, but it’s not convincing.

“jason.” you sigh, shaking your head. “dick is just a friend.”

“yeah, i know. so why's he’s always taking you out?” he huffs, and there it is—the frustration that had been simmering beneath the surface finally breaking through. “ever since i was a kid, he’s had your attention. i'm just...the other one.”

his words hang in the air, weighted with years of implicit beliefs. suddenly, you understand. this isn’t just about his brother. it’s about everything jason’s never said—the way he’d always felt second to someone else.

you take a step forward, close enough now that you can see the cracks in his bitter expression. and you notice the way he wants to pull back but doesn't—can’t.

“you have never been that to me, jason.” you say softly, your voice steady.

he scoffs, but there’s a flicker of disbelief in his eyes. “yeah? didn’t seem like it.”

“maybe not then, but things are different now.” you say, holding his gaze. “you’re different. we’re different. everything, is different.”

for a moment, jason doesn’t say anything. he just looks at you, really looks at you, like he’s trying to figure out if he should believe you.

“doesn’t feel like it sometimes,” he mutters, quieter now. the tension shifts, softening slightly, though, his guard remains.

you take one last step, close enough that you can reach out and touch him if you wanted to. “jason.” you say, and his name comes out softer than you mean it to. “you have my attention now. not as a kid. not as robin. as you.”

there’s a pause, a beat of silence before he finally drops his eyes. when he looks back at you, there’s a flicker of longing in them, a look almost too vulnerable for the man he's returned as.

“you sure about that?” he asks, his voice quiet, like he’s afraid of the answer.

you nod, and this time, you close the distance. your hands gently tether to his crossed arms, “yeah, i’m sure.”

his muscles tense under your touch—but he doesn’t pull away. instead, his eyes fall to where your hands rest against him, something flickering there. you squeeze his arms lightly, attempting to ground him.

“jason,” you say softly, “i don’t see you the way you think i do. i never have.”

he lets out a rough breath, like he’s been holding it for ages. his gaze is still cast downward, jaw clenched. you wait, patient, giving him the space to find his words.

“i don’t know how to be around you anymore.” he admits, voice barely above a whisper. “i want to be around you, like how dick is. i just...came back wrong.”

the confession rings in your head. you almost feel the weight of it, pressing against the edges of your chest, and your heart aches for him. for the boy he was, the man he’s become, and the space in between where he feels like he’s lost himself.

“you didn’t come back wrong.” you whisper, stepping even closer.

his head tilts slightly, as if he’s processing your words, trying to let them sink in past years of self-doubt.

his hands uncross slowly, falling to his sides, but he doesn’t pull away from you. instead, his right hand reaches up, hesitant at first, before he gently cups the side of your face. fingers brushing your skin with a tenderness you hadn’t expected.

“you sure about that?” he asks again, but this time there’s no malice. less unease.

you nod, your hand coming up to cover his, your voice steady. “yeah. i’m sure, jason.”

almost timidly, he speaks again, "can you just... just tonight, stay here."

you study him as you answer, "why?"

he sighs, eyes flicking to a wall, "grayson's had years to spend with you, i haven't. c'mon, let me take you out instead." he shrugs, looking at you now, "call it making up for lost time."

you can't fight the tug in your chest, and you nod—relenting, "fine." you offer him a small smile, "where are we going?"

you don't catch what he suggests, nodding along. you're too hyperaware of the dimpled smile on his face now. two perfect reminiscent pictures of the sweet kids you used to be. only, this time you're choosing him—and you plan to continue to.

#dc jason todd #jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd thoughts #jason todd imagine #redhood x reader #redhood

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