#i think todd would write something like this | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

plethorawrites · 4 months ago

Note

Oh, I really, really like your recent blurb! Jason having a secret girlfriend/family is my favorite trope, but it is so hard to find!

Would you write about silly instances where Jason spots his family in public and tries to shuffle and guide you away without you noticing?

Ahh! I feel that validated in both my love of Jason and my love of the secret relationship trope! (This might not be exactly what you were looking for, but I hope you like it anyway!)

The first time it happened was a few weeks into your relationship, back When the two of you would meet for breakfast or brunch at the little cafe, a few blocks away from where you worked.

Jason Todd would always show up, yawning and exhausted from how tired he always was since he hadn't told you about his night job yet. But he was still on time, excited to see you even if he would go straight home and nap immediately afterwards.

The two of you would always spend more time talking getting to know one another than actually looking over the menu and ordering something to eat, but neither of you minded.

Then, one day, while he was looking away from you to hide the smile you had caused, he caught sight of Tim waiting in line to order a coffee.

Without really thinking about it, he grabbed both of your menus, propping them up and leaning over the table, trying to hide both your faces.

You frowned in confusion but leaned in too, until your faces were close together. "What are you doing?" You whispered.

"Nothing," he lied poorly, being his head over the top of a menu to see if his brother was still there and darting his head back down when Tim walked past the table. He let out a breath of relief, staring at you. "You look really pretty this close."

With an amused eye roll you leaned back in your chair, folding your arms and waiting for a better explanation. "You just wanted to talk really close for a moment?"

"Okay, fine," he sighed heavily. "I wanted to look at your freckles, alright? They're adorable. The ones on your nose are really cute."

It wasn't a lie, technically. He did love them. And you actually believed him, he thought. Or if you didn't, you didn't push the topic.

The next time you accidentally ran into somebody was at the mall, when you had dragged Jason along to help you look for a dress for a mystery date night he said nothing about, except for the fact that you had to wear something nice.

It was just his luck that you had picked the same store Stephanie happened to be shopping in as well. In most circumstances, she might not even notice him when they crossed paths in public, but in a woman's clothing store which was relatively empty, there was no way she wouldn't see him when she turned around.

Without warning, he tugged you away from rack you were looking at, pulling you into a cramped dressing room, locking it behind you.

"Wha-" You stared at him like he had lost his mind. "Why are we the dressing room?"

"How do women try stuff on when they can't turn around?" He countered, ignoring your question and planting his hand on the wall by your head to try to give himself more room in the tight space.

"It's typically not made for two people," you explained "Especially not 6'2 men."

He grinned a bit. "Do you like my height?" He asked, enjoying the proximity a bit more than he would admit.

Yes. Obviously. Who wouldn't? He towered over you. His arms could wrap around your entire body without even straining to cover more skin. Plus, he could reach the top shelf so you didn't have to climb on a chair.

But it was still too early in the relationship to tell him that.

"That's besides the point," you muttered. " Why are we in the dressing room?" You repeated.

"I just...always wanted to see a woman's dressing room," he told you, frowning at his own lie.

"Seriously?" You questioned. "You could have at least picked the big one at the end. And you didn't even let me pick anything to try on."

"Right, well..I figured we could try a different store," Jason explained, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. "Nothing here would do you justice."

You huffed, finding it slightly amusing how foolish he was acting. But frankly, it wasn't terribly bad to be stuck in a tight space with him. So, you waited a moment longer before unlocking the stall.

You still had to find a dress.

Things were peaceful for a bit, you and Jason seemed to be growing stronger in your relationship and things began to get a little bit more serious. Jason seemed to be growing stronger in your relationship and things began to get a little bit more intense.

He knew that eventually he'd have to tell his family about you, but the next time he saw one of his brothers in public, he couldn't help but shy away from the task of introducing you.

In his defense, Damian really wasn't the first sibling you would want to meet.

He'd taken you to a nature preserve, because you said you used to go all the time as a kid but stopped after getting older.

You were practically giddy, feeding the animals from your palm, scrunching your nose when their whiskers ticked you. Jason was enjoying it too, more so because of you than the animals.

But while he was mocking you for your squeals, he heard a familiar voice having a one sided conversation with a lemur.

He turned and there was Damian, having his biweekly visit to see the animals that Father wouldn't let him bring home.

Jason cursed internally, pulling you away from the animals, accidentally spilling the feed from your hand.

"Hey, I stillwanted to see the—"

"I'll bring you back, I promise," he said, cutting you off as he dragged you behind a tree.

You wiped off your hand on your jeans and tilted your head. "What is it?"

"I just think you've been giving the animals too much attention," Jason noted. "I feel left out."

"Oh, c'mon," you rolled your eyes.

"Really," he insisted. "You kissed a sloth and a goat but not me."

He pouted a bit and leaned back against the tree, still holding you arm, though loosening his grip before running his hand up and down your arm apologetically.

You sighed, glancing around briefly, not really taking notice of the small, angry child, yelling at some poor worker, before leaning up on your tip toes to kiss his lips very quickly. "Satisfied?"

He smiled softly. "No." He shook his head, pointing to the exit. "Can we leave?" He asked gently.

"Will you bring me back?"

Jason nodded immediately. "Whenever you want," he said.

You gave up and left with him.

Now, if you really thought about it, you could easily put two and two together, but really, the instances were so far apart that you didn't really question the strange behavior.

He had managed to be, for the most part, pretty subtle about pulling you away from his family whenever he encountered them, as few and far between as those moments were.

Like the time you were walking down the street while it was raining and he spotted Duke crossing the street towards your direction. Even though he knew you loved the rain and hated umbrellas, he still pulled his jacket off, covering your head.

"Jay, I told you, I'm fine," you assured him, trying to move it off of you.

"Yeah, but you'll catch a cold," he insisted, pulling even further over your head while blatantly stealing an umbrella from a small stand that was selling them.

He popped it open, covering his own face as you walked past Duke.

"I will not," you told him, finally tugging it off. You frowned, not feeling any rain on your skin. "Where the hell did the umbrella come from?"

"Uh- someone handed it to me," Jason muttered. "Nice man."

And even though he despised running into people he knew because it always put him on high alert, trying to figure out what to do or where to go to keep whoever they ran into from spotting them, sometimes, he actually rather enjoyed the chance to pull you away from the rest of the world.

For instance, when you insisted on going to a carnival, which he wasn't a big fan of at first, until you guys got there and he saw your eyes twinkling at all the lights.

Any thoughts of boredom were quickly drowned out by the sound of your screams on the scarier rides, when you'd reach for his hand. And he bought every single treat you so much as looked at— the funnel cakes, the fresh lemonade, the Carmel corn.

He was watching you pull fresh cotton candy from the stick it was spun around when out of the corner of his eye he caught his brother Dick, along with Wally walking across the fair grounds.

Jason was sure they wouldn't notice you with how far away they were, but he refused to take the chance. So, he interlocked your hands, tugging you into a nearby photo booth as you made a sound of confusion.

"Just thought we should grab a souvenir," he said, beating you to the punch before you could ask what he was doing.

"I'm still eating my cotton candy," You told him. "I should fix my hair too."

Jason got a devilish glint in his eye and ran his hand through your hair jostling it further as you screeched in disbelief. "I think it looks good like that," he admitted, staring at you now that it had a bit more volume.

You blew a loose strand from your face. "I can't believe you did that," you stated. "It's all disheveled."

He nodded, still thinking it looked beautiful. Sort of like how it was when you woke up next to him.

"C'mon," he urged, pulling you into his lap. "I like you this way." He threw a few quarters in the slot and before you knew it you had a strip of three pictures, none of which were appropriate to show to anyone.

A picture of him stealing your cotton candy, a picture of him nuzzling your neck while you scrunched your nose in the way that made his heart clench, and a picture of him tasting said cotton candy on your tongue.

So, maybe it was an over reaction to pull you away from the rest of his carnival when it was huge and chances were Dick never would have even seen you. But God, did he enjoy it.

Then, there were, of course, the far less subtle times which didn't end quite as well.

Like when you just so happened to be walking out of a movie at the same time Cassandra and Barbara were heading into one.

"I think the sequel might actually be better than the original," you told him, arms interlinked as you walked.

"Uh huh," he wasn't paying attention anymore after seeing his sister and Babs at the soda machine, filling up their drinks.

He couldn't exactly pull you into a different theater, especially since he didn't know which one they would be going into.

The next best option? Throwing the empty popcorn bucket over your head.

"Jay?!" You exclaimed.

"It's a discount thing," he muttered vaguely, grimacing at his own excuse. "Wear the bucket out and you get a free movie."

Okay, not the next best, probably. Maybe like...sixth best? Seventh at most.

He pulled you past them, keeping his hand on the top of the bucket to keep it in place while raising his hoodie and keeping on the 3D glasses from the movie until you were past them both.

Once you were, he pulled it off and you were...well, fuming. Rightfully so.

"What the hell was that?" You asked, a bit bitterly, not buying his excuse for a second. "I'm covered in popcorn butter.

He cleared his throat, kissing your greasy cheek and licking his lips tasting a salty popcorn and butter on your skin. "Tastes good, though," he mumbled.

You stormed out on him.

And then, when you chose to walk all the way back to your apartment in frustration, both with his actions and lies, he finally came clean.

"I just... don't want my family to mess anything up between us," he confessed, barely even looking at you.

Vulnerability wasn't his strongest asset, but he was trying. For you.

You washed your face off in the sink for the third time and still felt greasy. Even if you got it all off your face, you'd need a shower to get it out of your hair.

"Why couldn't you just tell me that?" You asked, still confused. It wasn't like you didn't already know who his family was.

"I just- I didn't want you to think I was hiding you," he muttered.

"Jason, you put a bowl of popcorn over my head so your sister wouldn't see me. That's hiding," you stated firmly.

"Yes but it's not hiding out of embarrassment!" He clarified. "My family can be a lot to handle and they might scare you off and they'd definitely mock me endlessly for being in love with you."

His eyes went wide. That...was an accident. He didn't mean to confess that.

You stared at him for a moment, blinking. "Did you just say what I think you did?"

"I uh- well that wasn't..." He cleared his throat. "Yeah," he finally agreed with a slight nod. "But you don't have to say it back or anything, I know I'm not the easiest person to love and it—"

You were already kissing him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer. He was caught off guard, but it didn't take him long before he kissed you back, his hands finding your waist and steadying you both.

"You're stupidly easy to love," you told him, resting your forehead on his.

(+Bonus)

It was a quiet Friday night when the two of you were at a nice restaurant, celebrating a year of being together. The food was good, the music was soft and nice, and Jason was practically a drooling mess over you, like usual.

So much so, he didn't even notice when his father walked into the restaurant with a date of his own.

You did, though. And in keeping with the spirit of what had apparently been a pretty large part of your relationship, even without you knowing it, you slid out of the booth quickly grabbing his hand and pulling him from his chair.

"Hey, wait a second!" He exclaimed as you rushed him out of the restaurant before he got to finish his dessert. "We still have to pay."

"We'll come back tomorrow and pay," you assured him, pushing open the door, into the cold evening.

"What the hell was that about?" Jason asked once you were outside and seemingly slowed down.

You pointed towards the window. "Your dad," you muttered.

He could see Bruce sitting at a table across from Selina, his eyes scanning a menu while occasionally looking up, probably to compliment her or something.

He huffed. "Add that restaurant to the list of places we can't go," he mumbled, shrugging off his jacket and handing it to you. "It got cold outside," he simply said when you frowned in confusion.

You pulled on the nice jacket that matched his suit. "Thanks," you said, wrapping your arm around his, tugging him away from the restaurant. "C'mon, I'll buy some more dessert."

He hummed, and pressed a kiss against your head. "Alright," he agreed, letting you lead him away from the restaurant and down the street.

#x reader #headcanon #jason todd #jason todd imagine #jason todd x reader #batboys #jason todd x you #dc comics #plethorawrites

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mostly-imagines · 1 year ago

Note

Hi!! If you're up to it do you think you could write something about the first time Jason brings his gf to the manor. Like maybe he brings her in but doesn't tell anyone and so everyone is trying to sneak a glimpse of her??

meet the family

jason todd x fem!reader

aka jason has a girlfriend???

warnings: none

The manor sits full as ever—a cloud of mild boredom sweeping over the Wayne clan.

Dick sits perched on top of an armchair reading a catalog, Stephanie’s splayed out across the couch, Cass is bundled up in blankets atop the ottoman, and Damian leans up against the center table from the floor.

It’s a relatively slow afternoon, until Tim comes bursting into the room, out of breath.

“There’s a girl here!”

Everybody looks at him, disinterest scattered across the room. “There’s a couple of ‘em.” Dick says, flipping through the pages of the magazine.

Tim huffs, “No! In Jason’s room—he has a girl in there!” Eyebrows shoot up at that.

“Now I know you’re lying.” Damian mutters.

Tims head snaps over to Damian. “Dude, go see for yourself. I heard her!”

“You really think Jason would bring a girl here and not even introduce us?” Steph asks, unconvinced.

“Yeah.”

“Yes.”

“Obviously.”

Cassandra nods fervently.

“Okay, yeah. Maybe.” Stephanie mutters. “I bet he’ll introduce me before any of you guys, though.”

Dick barks out a laugh, “You’re nothing short of delusional if you think he’s introducing any of us.”

“We’ll have to take matters into our own hands, then.” Tim says, decidedly.

Damian audibly sighs and rolls his eyes.

“I’m meeting her first.” Steph confirms. “I’ll put money down right now.”

“Meet her or see her?” Cass signs.

“Same thing.” Stephanie shrugs.

Dick shoots up from his seat, “First person to see her gets to be the ring bearer!” He announces, racing out of the room.

Knock knock knock knock knock…

Knock knock.

It takes a good forty seconds, but Jason opens the door, an annoyed frown already on his face.

Dick gives him his brightest smile. It beams of deceit in Jason's eyes. “Hey man. What’cha doing?”

He crosses his arms. “What do you want?”

Dick tries to peer around Jason into the room, but Jason made a point of barely opening the door and his large frame isn’t doing Dick any favors right now.

“Just wanted to say hey…You wanna hang out?”

“No.”

Dick lingers awkwardly. “…Are you sure?”

Jason shuts the door.

A couple minutes later, Tim comes running up the stairs. He opts to skip over the courtesy of knocking and go straight for barging through the door himself. Or he would’ve, if Jason hadn’t seen that coming from a mile away and locked it.

“Fuck off, Tim!” Jason calls from inside the room.

“You lost your right to privacy the second you walked in this house!” He shouts back, hitting his fist against the door.

And Tim swears he can hear a sweet laugh as he trudges away. The authenticity of that claim will be heavily debated downstairs for the next several minutes.

Not even a thirty seconds later, Stephanie comes a knockin’. Jason opens the door wordlessly, patience clearly dissipating more and more.

“Hey, Jason! I can’t find my comm, you wouldn’t happen to have it, would you?”

His face deadpans. “No, Steph.”

Stephanie clicks her tongue, “Can you check?”

He stares at her.

“Actually you’re right, it would be faster if I did.” Stephanie tries to push past him into the room, but Jason, unsurprisingly, doesn’t budge.

“Stephanie.”

“I just want to meet her!” She pleads. “I won’t even tell the others, I’ll just say you wouldn’t let me in either!”

“Bye.” He closes the door.

He doesn’t make it all the way back to the bed before the next knock, singular and short.

Jason snaps the door open again, looking down at Damian with a glare.

Never one to waste any time, “Is there a girl in here?” Damian asks, seeming thoroughly disinterested in the answer.

Jason shuts the door in his face.

Several minutes later, another, quieter knock. Jason’s groan can be heard from outside the room. He pulls open the door once again.

It’s Cass.

She stares at him.

He stares at her.

“Can I say hi to her?” She signs.

Jason sighs. “I’ll pass along the message.”

She smiles and turns back down the hall.

Jason closes and locks the door once again, trudging back over to the bed where you lay. He collapses onto your chest, your arms wrapping around each others bodies immediately.

“Cass says hi.” He mumbles, the sound obscured by his face-down position.

“That message would be a lot more meaningful if I actually knew Cass.”

He groans. “You don’t want to meet them.”

“I do.” You say, running your fingers through his hair. “And I think you do too, or you wouldn’t have brought me to the house where the world's best detectives live.”

“I’m starting to regret it now.”

“Come on. Please?” You plead.

He picks his head up to look at you.

“Are you sure?” He asks with a grimace.

“Absolutely.” You say, topping it off with a kiss on his cheek.

He sighs.

Well. It’s never been within Jason’s skill set to deny you, anyways.

You descend the stairs hand in hand with Jason, his energy mopier than usual. You can hear a gaggle of voices coming from a room ahead, all talking over one another.

“Okay, Tim, you climb up outside the window and—”

“—It’s your plan, you scale the side of the house.”

Jason drops his head and mutters a “Jesus Christ…” as you near the commotion.

You give him a reassuring smile and pat his back as you both move into the doorway.

Everyone’s heads snap to the doorway, eyes wide and waiting.

Jason takes a deep breath like he’s steeling himself for torture. “Guys…This is my girlfriend.”

“Hi.” You smile sweetly, waving to the room.

There’s a moment of still silence before the room erupts.

“Hold on—”

“—my god, she’s so pretty!”

“Oh wow—”

“Wait, what?”

”—You’re real?”

“—didn’t place that bet.”

Stephanie comes scurrying up to you and grabs both of your hands in hers. “Hi, I’m Steph!” She says with a beaming smile. “What’s your name?”

“I’m—”

But the others are right on her tail, crowding around you.

“We didn’t even know Jason had a girlfriend.” Tim says.

“Still not convinced.” Damian mumbles from the back.

Cass waves and signs something to you.

“She says we’re really happy to meet you, which we are.” Dick tells you.

Damian moves closer within the huddle and inspects you closely. You have no idea what he’s inspecting you for. You don’t need to dwell on it for long because Jason pushes his head away from you with mild force making Damian scowl.

Stephanie chimes in, “Did he bring you here to meet us? The others said—”

Jason cuts her off, already knowing exactly where that sentence was going. “I brought her here to show her my old room.”

Dick snickers, “Oh, is that what you were off doing?”

“Watch it.” Your boyfriend warns.

You nudge him with your elbow, be nice.

Tim moves closer to you, narrowing his eyes. “So you’ve like, spent time with him and everything? And you still want to be around him?”

“Okay and you’re done.” Jason takes your hand and leads you out of the room and back down the hallway.

“No wait!”

You’re already out of the room and into another and then another before you can even realize that you’re headed for the front door.

You stop in your tracks, pulling him to a halt as well. “What about—”

Jason shakes his head. “You don’t want to meet him.”

You lower your chin at him, “Jay. Do you want me to meet him?”

He’s silent and doesn’t look like he particularly does.

You sigh, “Okay, do you want him to meet me?”

“I—yeah…” he trails, and you give him your best sweet eyes, the ones that he knows he has no business saying no to. “I…okay. Okay.”

He leads you down another hallway, the sounds of his siblings clambering echoing in the distance. You end up in a room that looks like a never used study, where Jason pushes on one of the walls. It slides open with a bit of force from him, revealing a door with a keypad next to it.

He types a series of numbers into it, and opens it up to a narrow passageway that looks remarkably like a cave.

The passageway leads down to a set of stairs, and you can hear the loud sound of water in the distance.

You’re quite nervous about walking into the Batcave, but you know Jason wouldn’t bring you anywhere near it unless he was sure it would be okay. Okay for you that is, more so than his father.

“Careful. It’s slippery.” Jason holds your hand the whole way down anyway, making sure to linger no more than a step and a half in front of you.

You see Bruce Wayne, sitting at a desk with a large array of computer screens in front of it, and case files scattered all throughout the surface.

He doesn’t acknowledge your entrance, though you have to imagine if Jason got his observation skills from anywhere, it would be him.

As you approach, Jason switches your hands so that his left is holding your left. The result has his figure half covering you, you can only assume partially limiting Bruce’s view of you.

“Bruce.”

Bruce turns his chair around, regarding Jason with a raised chin. The greeting is somehow even more formal than you’d expected.

“Jason.” He readdresses his gaze to you. “Who’s this?”

Jason has a hell of a feeling that Bruce already knows exactly who you are. He’s probably known about you since you started dating. He would’ve had to, to not be pissed as hell that Jason brought a civilian into the cave.

Jason introduces you, his hand reluctantly letting go as you step forward to shake Bruce’s.

Bruce looks surprised, though pleasantly so. He smiles and shakes it kindly.

“It’s nice to finally meet you.” He says.

“You too, I’ve heard a lot about you.” You say, smiling.

He laughs, “Oh, I bet.” Looking to Jason, he says, “I can’t say I’ve had the same pleasure, unfortunately.”

Though Jason’s behind you now, you can practically feel him roll his eyes.

“No, I can’t imagine him sharing anything unprovoked.” Bruce smiles widely at that.

He opens his mouth to say something else, but Jason, who’s probably on the brink of losing his mind down here, interrupts.

“Alright. Time to go.” Jason says, grabbing your hand again. He doesn’t give you much time to protest before he’s guiding you by the waist past him and towards the stairs.

You let him nudge you out and call over your shoulder, “It was nice meeting you!”

He’s halfway up the stairs as you exit, only to be stopped by Bruce addressing him again.

“Jason.”

Jason stalls his steps, turning around slowly. You’re out of the cave now, and Jason’s not excited to be alone with his Dad for even a minute. It doesn’t help that he has no idea what he’ll say.

“She’s kind.” Bruce says, simply.

“Yes.”

He tilts his head at Jason, observing him. “You love her?”

Jason looks at the ground. “Yes.”

Bruce nods. “Good.”

He returns to his work at the computers wordlessly, and Jason has to take a moment to realign himself before he climbs the rest of the stairs.

Jason doesn’t particularly seek his fathers approval, nor does he place any definable value on it. However, hearing him give his own version of his blessing to you struck something inside Jason. Something deep in his chest.

He re-enters the study, finding it empty. He walks out into the hallway, where you’re nowhere to be found. Despite being halfway across the house by this point, he can distinctly hear his siblings chattering in the living room. Chattering. And chattering. And chattering…

Oh god, you went back to the living room.

As Jason approaches the conversation becomes clearer.

“—long have you been together, anyways?”

“Well—”

Stephanie gasps suddenly, cutting you off. “Oh wait, you have to meet Alfred!”

“Oh, we’ve already met.” You tell her.

Dick’s head snaps up. “What? When?”

Jason enters the room, draping his arm around your shoulder. “About six months before you met her.”

A chorus of gasps and shouts ring out.

“What?”

#jason todd loves his gf #jason todd x you #jason todd/you #jason todd imagine #jason todd/reader #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd x reader #batfam x you #batfam imagine #batfam fanfiction #batfam fanfic #batfam x reader #batfam dynamics

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ayamari-no-goshi · 7 months ago

Text

There was another quote from this same book that also strikes me as applicable

"One of the things that used to surprise me, but no longer does when I'm talking to the families, especially the parents of murdered children, was how much they often want to know what was done to their child. Like most police officers, I tried very hard to spare them the horrible details, but in so many cases, they wanted to know as if to share the suffering and somehow take it upon themselves."

I was listening to an audio book about criminal profiling, and the following quote hit me hard.

It makes me think of Jason, and how he is not a 'quiet' or 'ideal' victim - he has never truly gotten over what happened to him and how the aftermath affected what he became. And even how Bruce was in his nearly lifelong grief regarding his parents and why he goes out to fight crime each night.

*please excuse possible formatting errors in the quote. The app I was using didn't include the text.

"If there is one word that I found that survivors of murder victims detest, it is 'closure'. The media, the public, well meaning friends, and even the judicial system itself often feel that this is what all grieving loved ones are seeking so they can 'put this behind them and get on with their lives'.

But anyone who has experienced a murder knows there is no such thing as closure, nor in fact should there be. The mourning process will go through stages, and eventually, the pain will become less unbearably acute, but it will never go away, anymore than the hole in one's personal universe left by the lost of the victim and the erasure of a lifetime of promise will ever be filled in."

- "The Killer Across the Table" by John Douglas and Mark Olshaker

#jason todd #red hood #batman #bruce wayne #quotes that change your brain chemistry #After this quote the authors gave some examples #one that particularly hit me was how a man would refuse numbing agents during dental work in hopes of easing his child's pain in the death #and it's the things like that which really affect me #this quote is very raw and I think is something to think about #yes it's a great writing tool #but it also gives us an insight into how people act when they grieve

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i-yap · 11 months ago

Text

Jason todd x reader - clingy thoughts

(guys i have no motivation to start writing most days so like whenever I get comments or requests in my inbox I get rlly excited and actually feel like writing)

if jason could, he would melt his skin so it could stick to yours . He is so touch starved but more than that he is just ...starved. like he hasn't ever had anything properly good in his life. and then you're just there and he doesn't think something better could exist

he wants to look at you, he stares a lot. even when he is cuddling you, he's looking at your hands, your hair, whatever he can see in the position

he likes casual intimacy more than fancy intimacy. like linking pinkies when walking, resting your head on his shoulder on the bus, your legs being pressed against each other when you're sitting on a rooftop. something you'd do without thinking but he is constantly thinking about it.

he isn't the lift and spin sort of guy ( like after a mission or something) he is a holds you and falls to the ground from the pain of being separated from you for too long. he is the don't to dare pull away, tears in his eyes, body shaking sort of guy.

he hates being away from you, even across the table is too far. wants to sit next to you or hold your hand if you're sitting across. make sure the table isn't too big. the distance hurts him, its like he has an internal radar that if you cross , his head goes red .

give him any sign that you are just as clingy or even that you don't hate his guts and he will just freeze. he doesn't know how to reciprocate touch, feelings, words, everything but he really really wants to. so just because he stiffens up when you hug him doesn't mean he is gonna let you leave the hug .

his sweetest words come out at like 4am , when you're in the bathtub, sitting on a roof, eating snacks on the floor of your room or lying in bed . you cant be facing him cause he will forget whaT he wanted to say once he sees your face. he is super tired from crime fighting or after s'x or after a nightmare. don't make a big deal out of it cause he wont take it well and will get embarrassed.

he is just so protective, you rlly cant blame him.

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starl1ght444 · 13 days ago

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jason todd x fem!reader

── .✦ angst

[jason’s hurtful words lead you to leave for a couple days]

long story — [7k word count]

second person writing / edited-ish

*.ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

you don’t even remember what started it.

maybe it was the late nights. the blood on his knuckles. the way he shut you out like a slammed door every time something bothered him. maybe it was the way you kept asking, over and over, “are you okay?” and getting that practiced silence in return. or maybe it was you. wanting too much. needing answers he wasn’t ready to give.

It starts with the quiet. the kind that creeps in before the thunder hits. jason walks in, his jacket soaked with rain and something darker. his eyes avoid yours. you’re used to it, but tonight something in you snaps. “did you kill anyone yet?” you ask. not because you want to accuse him. but because you have to know.

he stiffens. “what the hell kind of question is that?”

you don’t back down. “a serious one. because I can’t keep pretending I don’t know what you’re doing out there.”

jason tosses his helmet on the counter with a loud clatter. “don’t start this.”

“no, you don’t get to tell me when I start. you come home covered in blood, you don’t talk to me, you shut me out—”

“because it’s none of your business!” he snaps.

that stings. you feel it in your chest, sharp and immediate.

“I am your business, jason. or am I just something you keep around to feel normal?”

he laughs—bitter, cold. “don’t flatter yourself.” —silence.

you blink. his words hit you like a slap, and he knows it. he flinches for a second. just one. but he doesn’t take it back. you try to keep your voice steady. “so that’s what I am? just… convenient?”

he doesn’t answer. you’re waiting for him to say no. to soften. to say he didn’t mean it. instead, he mutters, “you knew what this was. don’t act like you didn’t sign up for it.”

that’s the thing. you did know. you knew loving jason todd would mean long nights, fear gnawing at your ribs, and blood on his knuckles when he kissed you goodnight. but what you didn’t sign up for was being invisible.

“I didn’t sign up to be treated like an afterthought,” you say, standing now, voice rising. “I didn’t sign up for being ignored, for being lied to. you don’t talk to me, jason. you just disappear.”

jason scoffs. “and what, I should be reporting in every five minutes? you want a boyfriend or a lapdog?”

your heart aches, but you don’t back down. “i want you. the version of you that lets me in. the one that doesn’t shut down and push me away every time something gets hard.”

“I don’t need you to fix me!” he shouts, voice suddenly cutting through the air like a whip. “I don’t need your sympathy or your constant hovering. you think loving me gives you the right to pry into every dark corner of my life?”

you stare at him, stunned. “It’s not prying when I’m trying to help jay..”

“I didn’t ask for your help!” he barks. “god, you’re so damn exhausting. always needing something. always complaining. maybe I’d be better off without you dragging me down all the time.”

you stare at him like you’re seeing someone else entirely. “you’re a coward.” — wrong thing to say.

jason steps forward, eyes burning. “you think I’m the coward? you sit here in your nice little apartment, judging me like you’re above it all. you don’t know what it’s like out there. you couldn’t last a week in my world.”

“and yet I’ve been trying for months!” you shout, your voice breaking. “but you don’t care. you never really let me in. you just wanted someone to come home to—someone who didn’t ask too many questions.”

“you think you’re some kind of savior?” he sneers. “you’re not. you’re just another person who thought they could fix me.”

you stop. you feel it crack right there—something fragile and important inside you. “i didn’t want to fix you,” you whisper. “ i just wanted you to let me in.”

he scoffs. “then you wanted too much.” and that’s it. a finial look into jason’s eyes of any hint of regret— nothing. just pure frustration and anger. a weight in your heart dragging you towards the door. no dramatic exit. no final scream. just you walking past him, grabbing your bag, and shutting the door behind you.

at first, jason doesn’t move he doesn’t feel much of anything, honestly. just numb. tired. angry in that hollow way that doesn’t have a target anymore. he just stands there, staring at the door like it’s going to swing open again. It always does.

you always come back. — he grabs a beer from the fridge. sits on the couch. flips on the TV. something violent and loud, because silence feels like guilt.

hours pass. no call. no message.

he scrolls through his phone. no unread texts. he opens your thread—nothing. his fingers hover over the keyboard, then stop. he locks the phone and throws it on the table.

then he starts thinking about what he said. really thinking.

“you’re just another person who thought they could fix me.”

the way your face changed. he remembers the silence right before you walked out, how final it felt. and something cold settles in his chest. it’s been almost 4 hours since you left.

he starts pacing. that tight feeling in his chest creeps in like smoke under a door. his palms feel clammy. he’s sweating. his vision is narrowing. he can’t think. — you didn’t come back.

you always come back. “shit,” he whispers, running a hand through his hair. “shit, shit—”

the room feels like it’s closing in. the walls are too close, the ceiling too low, like everything’s pressing down on him at once. he can’t breathe. his knees buckle, and he slides down against the wall, gasping for air, chest heaving like he’s drowning. his hands shake. his throat burning.

he didn’t mean it. — of course he didn’t mean it. you’re not convenient..you’re the only thing that’s kept him afloat. you’re the light he pretends he doesn’t need but clings to in the dark.

and now you’re gone. the words he threw at you, the venom he spit out just to win a fight, ring louder than the silence you left behind. he says your name into the empty apartment. once. then again. then louder. like if he says it enough, you’ll hear him. — but you don’t. and now the silence is unbearable.

he can’t breathe. now It’s been five hours since you left, and jason’s chest is on fire. not the kind that comes from bruised ribs or a bullet wound—he knows that pain. he’s good with that pain. this is worse. this is panic. helplessness.—this was worse kind of hurt because it doesn’t bleed.

his phone is clutched so tight in his hand, his knuckles have gone white. he stares at the screen, thumb hovering over your name in his contacts again. he’s already called five times.

no answer. — just the sound of your dumb voicemail message, cheerful and playful and now completely soul-crushing. “haii! Its (y/n), im sorry i missed your call! im not home right now! but i can take a message… let me grab a pencil…hm okay! what would you like me to tell me?” it used to make him smile. now it makes him sick. he hits redial.

one ring.

two.

three.

voicemail. — again. again. again.

he runs both hands through his hair, dragging his fingers hard through the strands like maybe pain will wake him up. like maybe this isn’t real. like maybe you’re still coming home, keys jingling, saying his name like you do when you’re trying not to smile. but the apartment is dead quiet. and it smells like rain and blood and something fading.

“pick up,” he mumbles to no one. “please (y/n).. please just pick up.” he calls again. and again.

his hands are shaking now, so bad he nearly drops the phone. his mind is running circles around itself—what if something happened? what if she didn’t look crossing the street? what if someone followed her? what if she’s hurt?—and he can’t shut it off. his heart is pounding too loud in his ears, drowning out reason. he stands up fast, then stumbles forward, grabbing the edge of the counter to steady himself. everything’s spinning.

he opens your location on his phone. nothing.

either you turned it off or the battery’s dead. or worse. his brain fills in the blanks faster than he can stop it. “goddammit,” he breathes, slamming his hand down on the counter. the sound echoes in the empty room.

this wasn’t supposed to happen. you were supposed to yell, slam a door, crash on the couch, and by morning everything would be fine. that’s how it’s always gone. you fight, you cool off, you come back. you always come back.

but not tonight. tonight, you left like you meant it.

and jason realizes—too late—that he pushed you harder than he ever had. too far. past the point of no return. past the point where an “I’m sorry” could fix it. he scrolls to your name again.

calls. again. “haii it’s (y/n)! im sorry i mi—” he shuts his eyes and grips the phone like he could tear it in half. your voice is soft, light, untouched by the mess he made. It makes him want to scream. It makes him want to curl in on himself and disappear.

you’re gone. and you’re ignoring him. that’s what finally breaks something inside him.

because jason todd—red hood, vigilante, killer, survivor—can handle almost anything. bullets. torture. death. — but he could not handle being ignored by the one person who made him feel human.

he sinks down against the wall again, chest heaving, lungs burning. his phone slips out of his hand, landing face-up on the floor, screen still lit up with your contact. a tiny, cruel reminder: your not picking up. you don’t want to talk to him.

his mouth is dry. he tries to swallow, tries to breathe, but every inhale feels like it’s too shallow. like he’s not getting enough air. his arms wrap around his knees. he’s shaking. his thoughts are racing.

‘she’s not coming back. you blew it. you pushed too hard. you said too much. she hates you. she should hate you. why would she come back after that?’ he doesn’t know how long he sits there like that—maybe twenty minutes, maybe an hour. All he knows is the silence. and your stupid voicemail. and the gnawing, tearing fear that he might’ve lost the only good thing left in his life.

“I didn’t mean it,” he says aloud, as if the room cares. as if his regrets can travel through walls and streetlights and find their way to wherever you are. “I didn’t mean any of it.” but the universe doesn’t answer.

he pulls himself off the ground. head still spinning, he can’t keep sitting around for you. he needs to find you. the air outside hits him sharp and cold, but it doesn’t clear his head. the city is still dark, the streets damp with leftover rain. his helmet is in his bag. he doesn’t wear it. doesn’t need it. he’s not red hood right now— he’s just jason. — and jason’s falling apart.

he makes his way through the city on his motorcycle, his mind endlessly searching for you. stopping when he even sees a glimpse of someone with your same hairstyle. everything reminding him of you. he feels hopeless knowing how huge gotham is, even more so how dangerous it is.

he ultimately decides to stop at some of your favorite places, maybe to soothe him with precious memories. he knows it’s to early in the morning for most of these places to be open, but he needs to check. needs to try anyways.

his first stop was a café. your favorite locally owned coffee shop, where you two became regulars. it was a small business, on a strip walk between a laundromat and boutique. — the coffee’s always too strong and the chairs wobble if you don’t sit just right. you loved that place.

he memorized your order. it was always the same thing everytime you came here— your order barely changed. — the smell of coffee, occasionally tea on ur breath, he was craving to kiss your lips just to taste your order again.

jason stands across the street for a second. the lights are off. homemade “closed” sign hangs crooked in the window.

he still walks up. presses his hand to the door like it might open. It doesn’t. he presses his palms to the glass, looking in

your spot is empty. the corner table by the window where you used to sit and steal sips of his coffee when you swore you didn’t want one. where your eyes would crinkle when you laughed, lips covered in foam you never noticed until he wiped it away. he stands there, remembering the time you convinced him to try that stupid seasonal drink with cinnamon and syrup and something else sweet that he pretended to hate—but secretly liked, because you liked it.

he thought if he came here, maybe you’d be sitting there again. your beautiful eyes locked in a book he’d recommend while eating a pastry. but there’s nothing. only cold glass and silence and now an emotional memory.

he sits on the bench outside and closes his eyes, trying to summon your laugh. where you are the happiest, and he remembers your smile when he took you to his favorite library.

it became a sacred place for you to. both calm and quiet while enjoying each-others company. so that was his next stop.

the library.

not a big, fancy one. no marble columns or quiet rules. this one’s cramped, unknown, smelling of dust and secondhand pages. you loved it for its charm—for the creaky floors and mismatched chairs and the old man behind the desk who always smiled when he saw you.

jason picks the lock with trembling fingers. slides through the back door like a ghost. third floor. far left corner. your nook.

he stares at the armchair you always claimed, the stack of dog-eared romance novels that you teased him with—the window seat you used when the weather was just right and the sun poured in like liquid gold. he walks through the aisle, trailing his fingers along the spines of books you once handed him. he can almost hear your voice echo in the stillness.

walking around until he was in the aisle where he first met you. making his eyes burn, to many memories flooding in his head— where he tried so desperately to be cool in front of you, and staring at you from afar admiring how divine your presence felt. — jason reading all the books he thought you’d like before even knowing you and putting his name in the checkout card. and watching your face light up from seeing his name once again. giving him the courage to go and talk to you.

a tear burning his cheek, he puts his head down feeling ashamed of pushing you away when memories like these made him feel alive again.

jason left the library, riding off having the city district him. he rides for a while thinking of any more possibilities. he was about to run out of gas and just decides he needs to take a walk anyways— and when he gets off his bike, he notices he’s at a familiar park — It’s further out, away from the main drag, quiet enough that the chaos of gotham doesn’t touch it. you both used to go there when things got loud—inside his head, inside the world.

It’s mostly empty, just a jogger in the distance and birds rustling in the trees. jason walks the winding path slowly, like a man retracing his own history — here—this is where you tripped over your own feet and he caught you, both of you laughing like kids. over there is the tree you climbed and got stuck in, yelling at him between laughs while he pretended he wouldn’t help you down. there’s a bench under the big oak tree. you kissed him there for the first time. real, honest, vulnerable. no masks, no walls. just lips and nerves and something too tender to say out loud.

he passes through more bench where you sat one night, eyes puffy, telling him things you hadn’t told anyone else. and he’d wrapped his jacket around you and promised—promised—he’d never be the one to hurt you.

he sits down there now, gripping the edge of the bench so hard his knuckles go white. — “i lied,” he whispers to no one, his voice strained. becoming angry with himself.

but there was still no sign of you.. and so he knew despite it all he had a couple more places to check. his mind became desperate. he heads where he should’nt, hoping you’re not there. he still had to check— ‘the narrows’ — ‘ park row ‘ — ‘crime ally ‘

he checks alleyways where addicts linger and criminals circle like vultures. every step, he begs he won’t find you there. But he has to check. has to know. he’s on a rampage now, eyes wild, heart racing. he gets in a guy’s face just for looking at him too long. knocks someone out cold when they make a comment about “that girl he used to walk with.”

he checks rooftops. alleys. places you shouldn’t be, but maybe are. places where bad things happen. — places he belongs, not you. he asks around. no one’s seen you. and those who know who he is don’t dare lie. — still nothing. jason’s a mess—bloodshot eyes, raw knuckles, unshaven. he looks like he hasn’t slept in years instead of just a night.

and then — “jason?”

jason turns around. it’s dick.

“jason?” dick calls, landing on the fire escape in full nightwing gear. “what the hell are you doing back in this part of town?”

jason doesn’t answer at first.

dick jumps down in front of him, blocking his path. “jay—hey. talk to me.” — “I messed up,” jason says hoarsely.

dick blinks. “with…?”

jason swallows hard. “(y/n)... she left. and she’s not answering. It’s been hours. I’ve checked everywhere. the café, the library, that damn park. nothing. I don’t even know if she’s okay. I just—I said too much. I said shit I didn’t mean and now she’s just… gone.— dick, i can’t breathe.”

dick moves quickly, placing a hand on jason’s shoulder. “hey. breathe. look at me.” jason meets his eyes, jaw clenched so tight it hurts.

dick doesn’t say anything for a moment. then: “alright. sit down.” dick says guiding him to sit on a nearby stoop.

jason does. because for once, he has nothing left to fight with.

“you love her?” dick asks, voice low. jason nods without thinking, like it’s a reflex. “then tell her. find her and tell her. but not like this. you’re spiraling.”

“I can’t stop,” jason whispers. “every second she’s not answering, I keep thinking she’s hurt. that it’s my fault. that I broke her. I can’t even hear her voice without thinking of what I did.”

dick sighs and puts a hand on his shoulder. “you didn’t break her. you pushed her away. that’s different. and maybe you don’t get to fix it. but you sure as hell don’t stop trying. not until she tells you to.” jason looks at him. “and if she never does?” — “then you mourn. but not until you know for sure.”

jason’s quiet for a long time. watching gotham pass by with his brother “never give up jay, i believe in you” and jason stands up, continuing his search.

but he doesn’t find you.

he checks safehouses. rooftops. he climbs halfway up wayne tower before turning around because he knows you wouldn’t go there.— by the time the sun rises, his hands are shaking.

his head is pounding. his legs feel like lead. and you’re still gone.

he stumbles home like a ghost. kicks off his boots. sinks to the floor. doesn’t even make it to the couch. just sits there.

and stares at the door. It never opens.

three days pass.

no texts. no calls. not even a read receipt.

jason doesn’t eat. doesn’t sleep. barely moves. the apartment is dead quiet except for the occasional replay of your voicemail, like he’s torturing himself on purpose. by the fourth morning, he can’t take it anymore.

he grabs his bag and heads to wayne manor.

bruce meets him at the batcomputer. he doesn’t ask why jason’s there. just takes one look at him—pale, tired, shaking, blood shot eyes — and knows. “use whatever you need,” bruce says softly, walking away.

jason nods, throat tight. while the system loads, alfred appears at his side with a quiet sigh and a fresh mug of coffee and a blanket. he doesn’t speak right away.

then, gently, “would you like to talk about it, master jason?”

jason’s jaw clenches. he shakes his head, but then his voice breaks. “I ruined it.” a lump in his throat, looking at alfred.

alfred sets the coffee and blanket down and pulls him into a hug without a word. just strong, steady arms and that grounding kind of warmth jason hasn’t let himself feel in years. “i don’t know how to fix this,” he whispers.

alfred holds him tighter. “you start with the truth. then you wait. and if she’s worth it—and I suspect she is—you never stop.” jason nods against his shoulder

and for the first time in days, he lets himself cry. sobbing into the older man’s shoulder releasing all the pent up sadness and anger he kept inside for days. “I’ve cleaned blood off your boots, patched holes in your uniform, and stayed up more nights than I can count wondering if you’d make it back. but what worries me most… is how quick you are to believe you don’t deserve good things.. ” he said rubbing jason’s back soothing him, letting himself cry. “i love her so much, alfred— I don’t know how to hold on to good things without breaking them.” jason hiccups “it hurts how much i love her”

and they stay like that for a while, talking about jason’s feelings and what happened causing you to walk away. alfred listening and making him eat and drink to get something in his system. jason slowly getting tired, the comfort he craved slowing his brain down. alfred replacing you for a little while.

you always comforted jason, your touch melted him into a different man. you were his safe place and made him feel completely loved. the unconditional love he never felt before, ‘she’ll come back..’ - ‘ she’s okay, she’s safe’ — he kept repeating to himself, trying any possible way to soothe himself — jason became tried once again, but this time he was willing to sleep. he slept next to the computer, with the blankets alfred placed over him. he got a couple hours in until he woke up, a reminder of what happened.

now five days have gone by—

the coordinates come in just after midnight.

a quiet ping from the batcomputer—courtesy of a city-wide search bruce helped set up. jason had loaded every street cam, signal ping, and facial recognition tool he could, but deep down, he hadn’t really believed he’d find anything.

until now. a small rental apartment in the east end. under a friend’s name. you hadn’t left the city—you’d just gone off the grid. he finally found what he was looking for.

the screen flickered, and your image appeared in the facial recognition software. jason’s heart dropped as he studied the image that was pulled from surveillance footage. your face, usually full of life and fire, looked hollow. the light in your eyes were dimmer than he remembered, like you’d been carrying an unbearable weight for far too long.

your skin was pale, darker circles under your eyes indicating sleepless nights and too many tears shed. lips, once always curled into a small, knowing smile, were now pressed into a thin line. the fight had drained you, and he could see it in every inch of your face.

the camera hadn’t caught the vulnerability posture, but jason knew. you weren’t just physically tired—you were emotionally worn out. the woman he loved wasn’t the same one who had walked out five days ago. this woman, this (y/n), looked like someone who had been pushing through the world alone, all the weight of her pain carried on her shoulders.

he gripped the edge of the desk, eyes locked on the screen, his chest tightening. guilt, sorrow, and a deep sense of regret clawed at him. he had to find her. he had to make things right before it was too late.

he reads the address three times to be sure, then grabs his helmet and jacket and is out the manor doors before bruce can say a word. he jumps on his motorcycle and starts the engine, the loud sound of his tires screeching in the cave as he raced out to find you. he was lighting on the road, dangerously weaving in and out of cars, adrenaline of seeing you alive making him rush even more.

then he makes it to your location. his feet on the pavement, one flight of stairs, then two. his heart is a riot in his chest. his hands are sweating, shaking, cold. an a rush of anxiety washes over him.

what if you slam the door in his face?

what if you don’t even open it?

what if you’re gone again?

what if you don’t want to see him?

but he still knocks. soft at first. then harder.

he hears the lock click. the door creaks open a few inches. you stand there in sweats your friend let you have, eyes puffy, hair lazily in your face like you stopped caring how you looked days ago. and you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

your eyes widen when you see him. and that’s all it takes. jason breaks down.

his legs give out. he drops to his knees like something inside him finally caved in. and before he can even stop himself, he wraps his arms around your waist and presses his face into your stomach, sobbing. not the angry kind. not the kind that comes with yelling and fists through walls.

the kind that’s quiet and raw and scared. the kind that says thank god you’re alive and I’m sorry and I missed you all at once. he was relieved.

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out. “I’m so fucking sorry—please, I didn’t mean it, I was angry, I didn’t know how to say it right, I—god, I thought I lost you—” you freeze. shock, sadness and joy all overwhelming your head. your hands hover for a second, unsure, still hurt, wondering if this is a dream or not.

but then they come down gently, slowly, fingers threading through his hair as you hold him against you. your voice is quiet. “jason…” a melody to his ears.

he can barely speak. “I looked everywhere. I thought something happened. I thought—god, I thought maybe I deserved it. maybe you were better off without me. — I’ve never been this scared in my life.” you listen to him, his words muffled into your stomach. as he plants small kisses in between each sentence— his words rambling and gasping in-between for breaths. “baby.. come here.”

you helped him stand up and stared at his face. “I was angry,” you admit. “you hurt me.” — “i know.. i never wanted to hurt you.”

he leans into you like he needs your heartbeat to breathe.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he whispers. “I keep ruining everything good in my life. I say the wrong thing. I push too hard. I scare people off. and then when I finally realize what I’ve done, it’s too late.” you pull back just enough to make him look at you. — his eyes are red. wet. desperate.

“you didn’t scare me off,” you whisper. “you hurt me. but I left because I didn’t want to say something I’d regret. I needed time.”

jason swallows. “you should’ve. said something worse. hit me. I deserved it.” — “you don’t get to decide what you deserve, jason. I do.”

a beat. “and I still choose you.” he exhales a breath that sounds like a sob.

his eyes are rimmed red, exhausted, glassy with the tears he’s still trying to keep at bay.

“I went everywhere. the café, the library—the park,” he continues, his arms tightening like he thinks you might slip away again. “every place we made a memory. every place that still smells like you. I kept thinking, maybe I could find one more piece of us that wasn’t broken yet.— I needed to find you. I was losing it, sweetheart. I checked alleys. dangerous places. I—fuck, I was hoping I didn’t find you there but I had to check. I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t sit still. I just wanted to see you. to say I’m sorry. to fix it.”

you nod slowly, listening to him. watching the way he talked.

“I knew I took it too far, even when I said it,” jason continues, clutching you tighter. “I was mad at the world, not you. but I threw it all at you because I knew you’d still love me, and that makes me the worst kind of person.”

you press your hand to his cheek, and he leans into it like it’s the only thing keeping him together. “I didn’t mean it,” he whispers. “not a single word. I was angry and afraid and so fucking overwhelmed that I—” his voice cracks. “I lashed out. at the one person who loves me the most. and when you left, I knew. I knew I deserved it.”

you stare at him for a moment. because your silence isn’t punishment—it’s your own unraveling. choosing your next words — “you said I was just a distraction,” you whisper finally, voice shaking despite how hard you try to steady it. “that I make things worse for you. that I don’t understand you, and maybe never will.”

jason flinches. physically recoils at the words he remembers far too well. the words that have been haunting him for the past few days.

you swallow, continuing. “you didn’t just lash out, jason. you hit where you knew it would hurt. you said things I’ve been afraid of ever since we met.”

“I didn’t mean any of it,” he whispers again, desperate. “god, if I could tear the words out of the air and bury them, I would. I would’ve rather taken a bullet than see you walk out that door. I just—” he breathes in deep. “I’m not good with… emotions. with fear. and losing you? that’s the scariest thing in the world to me...”

you nod slowly. “you self-destruct.”— he presses his forehead to yours, eyes shut. “yeah. and I took you down with me.”

silence stretches again, but it’s different now. heavy, but not hostile. like the fog after a storm. “I wasn’t leaving forever,” you whisper. “I just needed time. space. I needed to remember who I was outside of what you said.”

running your fingers through his hair. “I love you, jason. that didn’t change. but you hurt me. bad. I will never stop loving you. i will always come back to you— I needed to know I could still choose to come back on my terms. not because you begged. not because you were falling apart. but because I wanted to.”

his arms tighten around you again, and for the first time since last night, his tears start to fall freely. once again. no restraint. no pride. just a man drowning in his own grief, relieved to be seen, still loved despite everything.

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispers into your shoulder, his voice small and shaky.

“no,” you say gently. “but you have me. and that means doing better.” and you both stand there for a while. two exhausted people wrapped around each other like maybe the world will stop spinning if you just stay still long enough.

after a while, you hold out your hand. “come inside.” and he does.

the apartment is small, quiet. the kind of place that smells like lavender and old books and something that’s just you. jason steps inside like he’s walking on glass—like the walls might collapse if he breathes too hard.

you close the door behind him. lock it gently. like you’re not locking him out, but keeping the world away.

neither of you says much as you move to the small couch in the living room. he follows you, slow, cautious. sits on the edge like he doesn’t deserve the whole cushion. like if he gets too comfortable, you might change your mind and tell him to leave.

you notice the way he keeps stealing glances at you from the corner of his eye. the way his knee’s bouncing, nervous. his shoulders are curled in, defensive, like he’s ready to run the second you flinch.

finally, you break the quiet. “why are you sitting like you’re afraid I’m gonna hit you?” jason freezes.

you don’t say it to hurt him. you say it softly. genuinely. because you see it—the hesitation, the fear, the way he’s pulling away without moving an inch.

he exhales. “because I don’t wanna fuck this up again.”

“you think being quiet is safer?”

he shrugs. “I don’t know. I don’t know what’s safe with you anymore. I keep playing every version of this in my head—if I say too much, if I touch you too soon, if I breathe the wrong way—maybe you’ll walk out again.”

you shift toward him slowly. “I didn’t leave to scare you.”

“I know.” he finally meets your gaze. “but it scared me anyway.”

you nod. “and now you’re trying not to want anything.” he doesn’t answer. “jason, you’re allowed to want me.”

his breath catches. you reach out, gently covering his hand with yours. he looks at the contact like it might vanish.

“you’re not scaring me off,” you say, voice soft but sure. “you’re hurting. and so am I. but I didn’t stop loving you. I didn’t forget all the good just because of one night.”

jason’s voice is raw when he answers. “It was more than one night. I’ve been shutting you out for weeks. I didn’t let you in when you were trying. I turned everything into a war when you just wanted peace.”

“yeah. you did.” he flinches. “but,” you continue, tightening your grip on his hand, “you came back. you searched for me. you let yourself fall apart. that means something to me, and im sorry too. i didn’t intend on being away this long. i just felt so lost” he closes his eyes, jaw clenching.

“i’ve never felt this afraid,” he murmurs. “not even when I died.” you squeeze his hand.

“I’m not good at soft,” he admits. “I can be violent, I can be angry, I can be the guy who kicks in doors and breaks bones. but being… gentle? I don’t know how to do that without thinking I’ll screw it up.” you lean forward, pressing your forehead to his.

“you’re being gentle right now.” he nods, barely. and for the first time since that fight, he lets his hand curl into yours. not tight. just enough.

enough to say I want this.

enough to say I still love you.

he presses his lips to your temple, hesitant at first, then lingering. not hungry. not desperate. just present.

“i love you eternally jason, im sorry too, i’m truly sorry for walking away.”

“i love you so much (y/n), so.. so much it’s a unbearable pain i never want to let go of. you are my heart.. my soul.. my person”

he pressed kisses on your hand inbetween words. whispering softly to you, sweet nothings. just wanting to cherish you. “i cried to alfred, cried like some damn kid and I was just—gone. full-on sobbing in his arms like I was ten again.”

(y/n)’s eyes softened, reaching out but letting him keep going.

“I told him everything. told him I screwed up. told him I was scared you’d leave for good. and he just… held me, made me miss your touch.— i’m still sorry,” he whispers

“I know,” you say. “i am too jay”

the two of you sit there, wrapped in the silence that used to hurt—but now, maybe, it’s just healing in disguise. you pulled jason in to cuddle him. he wraps his hands around your body. feeling fortunate to have you, to touch you, to kiss you. he hasn’t been able to breathe normally since you left, but now his chest feels lifted. he’s calmer and exhausted. he can tell you were too. he rubs your body while kissing all over you until he knows your asleep in his arms. watching you sleep so peacefully puts him at ease, helping him drift off into a wonderful slumber he’s been dreaming about for the past five days.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

ahhh :3 i couldn’t do a sad ending— i was going to!!, but he’s been out through to much already!! haha

hope u enjoyed!! im trying out different writing, angst is one im not the best ask but i like trying! it feels repetitive sometimes :p

have a good day / night!! xx

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dollishmehrayan · 5 months ago

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# “WHY ARE YOU CRYING LAIN.” ── .✦ ( what it takes for batboys to cry about their s/o btw I don’t see this as angst!reader but I’m writing a angst fic soon!! )

a/n: this is a request by (here) anyways 620 followers under a month?!?! What the hell tysmm this was shocking to wake up to anywayss um yeah here, I genuinely think this was like only a general hcs of what only batboys cry over but I turned it into like a s/o hc too so sorry tags: ( batboys x s/o )

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

Losing You, Even Momentarily: Dick is the type to wear his heart on his sleeve, so the idea of losing you whether you’re hurt, missing, or even distant emotionally breaks him in ways he doesn’t know how to hide. If you were ever critically injured during a mission or got caught in the crossfire or a health scare, he’d hold you in his arms, tears streaming down his face as he begs, “Don’t you dare leave me. I can’t lose you. You’re everything to me.”

When You’re Hurt Emotionally: Dick is empathetic to his core. If he ever caught you crying, struggling silently, or feeling like you couldn’t talk to him, he’d break down too. “Why didn’t you come to me? You’re not alone—you’re never alone.” His voice would crack as he hugs you, feeling helpless because he wants to fix it but doesn’t know how.

A Fight That Goes Too Far: Dick hates arguing, but sometimes even he loses control. If words were exchanged that hurt you, he’d cry after you left, clutching his face in his hands because he knows he messed up. He’d spend the entire night trying to fix it because the thought of you being upset because of him kills him. (He has a bit of people pleasing tendencies like me 😭)

JASON TODD ── .✦

Thinking He Doesn’t Deserve You: Jason has deep-seated feelings of unworthiness, and if he ever felt like you deserved better or like you might leave because he’s “too broken,” he’d quietly lose it. You’d find him sitting on the edge of the bed, tears in his eyes as he mutters, “Why are you even with me? I don’t want to ruin you too.”

You in Danger: Jason prides himself on protecting the people he loves, but if there were ever a moment where he couldn’t save you where you were hurt or out of his reach he’d shatter. Holding your unconscious body, he’d whisper through gritted teeth and tears, “This wasn’t supposed to happen. I’m sorry—I should’ve been faster. Stronger.”

Fighting and Losing Control: Jason fears becoming the worst version of himself. If you ever fought and he lost his temper, saying something he didn’t mean, he’d be crushed afterward. He’d cry silently in his room, replaying the fight over and over in his head, scared you wouldn’t forgive him.

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

You Pulling Away: Tim doesn’t always know how to balance his work and love for you. If he noticed you drifting away or feeling neglected because of his vigilante life, he’d hit a breaking point. One night, he’d find himself sitting alone, staring at his phone, tears silently falling as he whispers, “I don’t want to lose you. I’ll do better—I promise.”

When You’re in Pain: Tim’s logical brain often protects him from his emotions, but seeing you in pain—physically or emotionally would be his undoing. He’d try to keep it together for you, but once he’s alone, he’d sit at his desk, head in his hands as sobs wrack his body because he hates seeing the person he loves suffer.

If You’re Gone (Even Temporarily): If you ever went missing or were presumed dead, Tim would break in ways no one else would see. He’d bury himself in work, desperately trying to find you, but in the quiet hours, he’d collapse on the floor surrounded by papers and maps, tears streaming down his face as he murmurs, “Please come back to me. Please.”

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Failing to Protect You: Damian is fiercely protective of the people he loves, and if you were ever hurt on his watch, it would destroy him. He’d stay at your bedside, barely speaking, but his tears would fall silently as he holds your hand and says, “You are strong so much stronger than me. I am sorry I let this happen.”

Realizing You’re Hurt by Him: Damian doesn’t always know how to express himself, and if he ever unintentionally hurt you—through sharp words or coldness—he’d crumble. He’d isolate himself, his back to the door as he mutters to himself, “I am unworthy of their love. I am no better than the monsters I fight.”

If You Were Gone: Damian doesn’t cry easily, but if he lost you, he’d lock himself away for days. No one would hear his sobs as he grips something of yours—a sweater, a necklace and whispers, “I failed you. I should have been stronger. I would trade anything to bring you back.”

GENERAL ( WITHOUT LOSING YOU OR GETTING HURT YK? ) ── .✦

Dick: He’d cry watching you do something incredibly mundane—like laughing at a joke or helping a stranger because he realizes how lucky he is to have you. The thought of a life without you, even for a second, shakes him to his core.

Jason: He’d cry when he thinks about how you’ve accepted him so completely. “You don’t look at me like I’m broken,” he’d say through tears, pulling you into a hug. “You love me. No one’s ever loved me like this before.”

Tim: He’d cry in relief after a near-miss—maybe you were almost hurt on patrol, but you’re okay. He’d break down in your arms, holding you tightly. “I can’t lose you. You’re everything I didn’t know I needed.”

Damian: He’d cry quietly while watching you sleep, overwhelmed by how much he loves you. He’d brush your hair from your face and murmur, “You are my heart, beloved. Without you, I would have none.”

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

The Fear of Losing You: Bruce has already lost so much his parents, allies, and people he couldn’t save. If you were ever gravely injured or put in harm’s way, he’d be stoic at first, tending to your wounds or making sure you’re stable. But when the danger is over and he’s alone, the walls would finally break. He’d sit in the Batcave, hands trembling, staring at the blood on his gloves and whispering, “I can’t lose you too. I couldn’t survive that.” His tears would fall silently because he rarely lets himself cry but for you, the thought of losing you would be unbearable.

When You Break Down First: Bruce is emotionally guarded, but if he ever saw you crying really crying because of something he caused or something he failed to protect you from, it would destroy him. He’d pull you into his arms, his voice shaky as he mutters, “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I swear on everything, I will never let this happen again.” When you’ve fallen asleep, he’d sit beside you, quietly crying to himself because the person he loves more than anything is in pain.

During a Rare, Heated Argument: Bruce doesn’t lose control often, but when he does, his words can cut deep. If a fight escalated to the point where you walked away, leaving him standing there in silence, the guilt would eat him alive. He’d find himself sitting alone in the dark manor, hands in his hair as he whispers, “I can’t believe I let that happen. I promised I’d be better.” He wouldn’t hesitate to apologize immediately, but he’d cry later when he realized how close he came to pushing you away.

Realizing You’re the Light in His Life: Bruce is haunted by his past, and sometimes, the weight of his mission makes him forget the beauty in life. But when he sees you—laughing, smiling, or simply existing—he realizes you are the brightest thing in his world. He wouldn’t cry in front of you, but in a rare, quiet moment alone, he’d sit in his study with tears in his eyes, overwhelmed. “I don’t deserve them. But I won’t let anything happen to them. Ever.”

If You Were Gone: Bruce would completely unravel. He’s already built his life around loss, but you? You were his hope, his reason to believe in something beyond the cowl. Without you, he’d wander the manor like a ghost, sitting by your favorite chair or staring at a photo of you for hours. In the dead of night, when no one is around, he’d finally let himself grieve—hands gripping the edges of a desk, shoulders shaking as he whispers your name like a prayer. (Madonna ref?)

MOMENTS WHERE BRUCE GETS EMOTIONAL ── .✦

Seeing You Safe After a Scare: If you ever came home late or after a dangerous night out, Bruce would hold you tightly, kissing the top of your head and murmuring, “You’re home. You’re okay. That’s all that matters.” His voice would crack slightly, betraying the emotion he tries to hide.

When You Remind Him of His Humanity: Bruce isn’t always good with words, but when you’re there—kissing him goodnight, teasing him about his brooding, or cooking something terribly but with love he remembers what happiness feels like. He’d quietly brush a tear away as he watches you, thinking, “They make this life worth living.”

If You Call Him Out on His Guilt: If Bruce ever tried pushing you away because he thought you’d be safer without him, and you confronted him with a heartfelt speech about loving him no matter what, he’d break. He’d pull you into his arms, tears falling as he whispers, “You don’t know how much you mean to me. I can’t lose you. I need you.”

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