#jason todd and his past self
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101maverick · 7 months ago
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It’s three am i shouldn’t be awake, but please take this suffering from my trembling hands and feel.
@doingthewritethings i lost an unholy amount of eyelashes due to how much I had to wipe the tears from my eyes in order to finish this thing, and the fact I can’t even bring myself to be mad about that says something. Chapeau.
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ghost-bxrd · 11 months ago
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Prompt:
Dick is thrown back in time to a couple days before his past self is scheduled to leave on the mission to space, the one during which Jason will die.
Past Dick gets a very frantic and concerning phone call from someone claiming to be his future self, begging him not to go on the mission. And for some reason he‘s supposed to keep an eye on Jason? What the hell is that about? They’re not that close…
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superbat-lmao · 6 months ago
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Jason Todd Fic (De-aged?)
(INCOMPLETE/UNFINISHED)
Of all the kinds of magic, Jason Todd hates death magic the most.
So when the call comes through about Grave Affair, he tells Oracle where she can shove it.
“Hood, if there was anyone else available I’d have called them. Believe me, you’re beyond my last choice for this.”
And he’s standing on a rooftop, firing rubber bullets at a guy wielding a magic scythe. He’s ranting about final words, last confessions, things Jason never had.
He’s trying not to think of dirt and starched sleeves and silk linings.
When he’s finally close enough, Jason disarms the guy, but not without the blade touching him.
There’s a thud behind him but he’s already got the wannabe reaper in cuffs by the time he turns around.
And is met with his 15 year old self, wearing an outfit he knows. An outfit that never made it back to his closet.
The boy’s in shock, momentarily disoriented and Jason’s lucky the kid isn’t running, but Oracle is in his ear, awaiting confirmation of something Jason doesn’t think he can say out loud.
He takes off the helmet, holsters his guns, and crouches as low as he can. The kid is squinting at him but he isn’t running.
“You’ve been displaced in time.” He jerks a thumb at the knock off grave digger behind him. “The scythe cut me and brought you here. I’m you, but older.”
The kid squints harder, if that’s possible. Jason uses a couple of the old bat-signs, and doesn’t remove his domino.
“Prove it.”
God, every time he’d tried to seem intimidating, that’s how he’d sounded?
Jason tilts his head and thinks a moment. His old scars are gone, it can’t be anything Jason would willingly volunteer, but even now he doesn’t want to say those things out loud.
“We never told Bruce about Catherine’s last dealer.” The kid stopped squinting. “Or, or about. Well, we never told anyone about Tommy.” The kid flinched. It was a name neither of them had spoken since he died.
“Are we going back to the manor?” Jason shrugged at him. He didn’t want to, but this wasn’t about what he wanted anymore. He wanted to take the kid back to his safe house and burn those clothes. He wanted to cut out his eyes so he wouldn’t have to look at him. He wanted to be anywhere but here.
“Depends. Let me call in the calvary to come pick this guy up and you can decide. It’s the manor, or my safe house.”
He put the helmet on to be met with silence, either Babs was finally at a loss for words or had muted his channel. He sent his location and the pick-up signal. There was no confirmation and Jason decided he had hit his limit on dealing with bats before physically disconnecting himself from the comms network.
“If I pick the manor, how upset will they be?”
And wasn’t that just a crowbar to the gut?
“Not in the way you’re thinking, but a lot. I’ll be honest, it’s going to be worse than when [insert]. I know what you think they’re upset about and for them, it was years ago. But you going back will be like a bomb going off for them. I’ll take you, but you’ve gotta know it’ll probably overwhelm you.”
“And the safe house?”
“I’ll take the couch. And make you wear a different set of clothes because just looking at you hurts. But um, you can ask questions or don’t. Eat, read, ignore me. It’ll be a breather until the manor, or until the spell ends and you go back.”
“Go back?”
Jason wanted to throw up.
“To Ethiopia.”
——
True to his word, Jason burned those clothes the second they were in his safe house.
The kid, because he wasn’t willing to think of him as himself, had locked himself in Jason’s bedroom with a couple paperback copies of things he said he hadn’t read yet. Jason was making a sort of pasta bake in the oven and cleaning his guns on the coffee table.
His gear, except for the helmet, was stashed away properly, but he hadn’t turned the comms back on. He was sure that Oracle had been alerting all of the bats to the presence of his 15 year old self and watching live feeds of the interrogation to see what spell was cast, or how the scythe worked, but Jason was trying to avoid thinking about it.
Because if it was him, if he was 15 instead of 23 and in an apartment with an adult man claiming to be himself but built like Bruce, he’d fucking lock himself in and refuse to come out. Sure, he wouldn’t want to see the bats, all the people he remembers letting down by running away and at the peak of their fighting where Jason had believed none of them actually cared about him, but that doesn’t mean he’d really want to be alone with the veritable stranger of himself either.
He has his phone shut off, his comms are physically disabled, and this particular safe house is one he hasn’t had the chance to use yet since it’s a sort of last resort. It’s kept in a spot with few to no cameras and hasn’t been around long. Jason makes a point of keeping one safe house as a last resort, so that if he really does fuck up beyond what the bats can tolerate, there will be one place they can’t immediately find him.
He’ll have to burn this one soon, but it gives them a couple hours, if not about two days.
He’s trying not to remember the fight, the hasty decision to leave, being told there wasn’t enough room in the helicopter. God, he doesn’t even know at what point the kid was taken from, but Ethiopia hadn’t surprised him. He must not have made it into the warehouse yet.
When the oven goes off, Jason is trying hard not to picture cigarette smoke and eyes in the dark.
He makes two plates, sets one on the counter and the other on the coffee table, and goes to knock on the door to the bedroom.
When the younger Jason emerges, he looks wary, but not frightened. There’s also a calculating look in his eye that Jason knows others assume he got from Bruce, but was present while he was on the streets.
“Do you mind if I eat out here?”
“Knock yourself out.”
They’re almost finished eating when the boy finally speaks up.
“I’ve got questions for you.”
“Sure, but I have one for you too. Only one, so you pick what you wanna do first. Ask or answer.”
“Ask.”
“Go ahead.”
“The guy that brought me here, what does the magic entail?”
“I’m not a hundred percent sure. He was doing his little speech while we were fighting, something about meeting yourself and seeking absolution I think. It sounded like a chance to ask yourself questions or have a conversation with a different version of yourself but I don’t exactly know why. I also don’t know how long it lasts. I got the call about him pretty late and walked in without a full picture. One of the other bats is probably looking more into it right now and we’ll get an update at some point.”
“Other bats?”
Jason doesn’t envy Talia for having to explain to him Bruce’s knack for acquiring orphans.
“Remember when Bruce first took us in and we couldn’t understand what he wanted from us? Well, it’s morphed into a bit of a habit of picking up orphans. It isn’t just Dick, Alfred and us anymore. There’s a couple others and all the explanations are kinda long, so I’ll wait till the end to really get into that if it’s alright. In terms of how many are important for you to keep track of and you might come across at the manor, at least six, excluding the three you know.”
“Why aren’t you living at the manor? Why do you have a safe house?”
“A couple years from how old you are now, Bruce and I have a fight. We’re still kind of working on it, but it’s easier for me to have my own place than have to deal with all the riff raff. The manor isn’t as quiet as it used to be, and it’s too many variables.”
God, he’s really trying to be vague here instead of having to tell the kid he’s right and his Dad doesn’t love him. That his Dad doesn’t save him and that he’ll try to kill him. Jason doesn’t know if he can look his younger self in the eye and tell him everything he’s done. But he remembers being overwhelmed by too many people, too many emotions to try and navigate in conversations. It’s still something he struggles with, not that he’s told anyone about it.
“What was the fight about?”
“Since we don’t know how much of this you’ll remember when you get sent back, I don’t really want to get into specifics, in case we create some sort of paradox. Once we know for sure I’ll give you more details but basically, appropriate levels of consequence alongside a heavy dose of blame for shit Bruce fucked up.”
“What about Dick and Alfred?”
“What about them?”
“What do they think? Do they agree with you or Bruce?”
“They’re a little more complicated. Alfred loves us, has made sure we know it, but abstains from voicing his true opinions on it. I think he disagrees with us, but doesn’t want to push. Dick is vocal about disagreeing with us, but doesn’t think Bruce is completely in the clear either. He’s harder to predict in conversation and his goals are less obvious than Alfred’s.”
“What’s your question for me?”
“What’s the last thing you remember before coming here?”
“Bruce getting in a helicopter and telling me to stay put.”
“Alright.”
“That’s it?”
“All the useful information will come from this time, not yours. I just wanted to make sure I knew what part of the day you’d already been through.”
His younger self appears to think this over.
It’s almost a relief talking to him. Jason’s goals have always been pretty straight forward. Stay fed, stay warm, protect himself against adults, and stay alert. There are no mind games, or unspoken rules, or demands, or debts for his actions. As an adult, there is nothing he would want from a kid and as a kid, he’s found probably the only adult he’ll believe doesn’t want anything from him.
“Can you tell me about the other bats?”
“Sure, but I’m starting on dishes and you’re filling tupperware while I’m talking.”
So Jason explains Tim and Damian and Cass and Steph and Duke and Babs. He’s careful to avoid his own history and how he met them, only really stating how they each got taken in. How they met Bruce. His younger self doesn’t seem to mind the vague information, it’s been a long day and Jason doesn’t have much to hide from him except the obvious, his death and resurrection. So by the time the kitchen is clean, there’s little left to say except a brief rundown of what’s stocked where, what parts of the apartment have traps set, and what weapons are allowed to be kept in the bedroom.
He tells the kid he’ll be doing a short patrol tonight. They have a code for “all clear” that predates the bats, so they’ll stick to it. And he gives the kid a burner in case his training isn’t enough. He shows him how to contact himself, and if it’s really bad, the emergency beacon.
Nightwing is the one who finds him, but he isn’t stupid enough to recognize the others are likely on hand but just out of reach so that when he runs, they minimize his head start.
“Oracle says you shut off your phone, comms, tracker, and is locating your safe house as we speak.”
“And you’re telling me because?”
“Because we need to bring him to the cave. Because he won’t cooperate with any of us. Because we don’t want either of you to be alone and you damn well scared the hell out of all of us by disappearing like that.”
“You guys figure out the scythe and how long before he’s sent back?”
“Lantern figured it out. About 7 more days, from what we can tell.”
“How long until B’s planet side again?”
“About 3 days.”
There’s math somewhere in that sentence that Jason can’t calculate. A problem he doesn’t have the answer for. He refuses to acknowledge what’s about to happen, because if he does, he’ll step off the roof without his grapple.
“Tell the calvary to stop hiding and meet us here. I need everyone to agree to ground rules.”
Cass is the most proficient at B’s trick of appearing from the shadows, but the rest of the bats are a fair hand at it too. And suddenly, everyone who had been out of town slightly over a day ago, was congregated on a single roof. If Jason couldn’t solve the problem of seven days and Bruce Wayne, he’s not sure he really has a chance with so many more variables thrown in. Especially with the least predictable ones.
“We will meet you all at the cave tomorrow, in the morning. You are not crowding my safe house.”
There is some shuffling, but no objections.
“I have told him all of your names. He does not know more than how each of you loosely came to meet B. He does not know my vigilante name, the new kids vigilante names, except Oracle, or how I met any of you. Or when.”
The shuffling has stopped. It’s just the dark, silence, Jason, and everyone he’s spent what amounts to his current life avoiding.
“He is 15 and for him, Batman just got on a helicopter in Ethiopia.”
If there’s silence now, Jason can’t hear it over the rushing in his ears.
“For as long as he is in this timeline, I will remain close enough to get him out of any situation you put him in.”
He’s focusing on a spot in the middle distance. Jason is afraid he might black out.
“He will know that we are lying to him soon, although I can’t guess how quick he’ll catch on. When he asks about it, about our - death.”
It takes almost a full minute for Jason to keep speaking.
“You will direct him to me.”
Jason sweeps his unfocused eyes over a mismatched group of vigilantes in the dark. They are rigid and unflinching. Jason wants more than anything in the world to be somewhere, anywhere else.
“You will not leave him and B alone in the same room together.”
This time, his eyes are focused and he meets each of their gazes.
He looks to Cass last, and at her nod, Jason steps off the roof and swings away.
——
Jason gives himself ground rules the next morning.
“You can ask questions. You might not always get an answer.”
“If someone will not give you an answer, come find me.”
“If you want out, of anything, you press the button I gave you.”
“I will remain in the same building as you at all times. If you need space from me, say so. If you want me in the next room, signal. I will stay as close or as far as you prefer.”
“There are things that the others will know that you have not shared. I cannot undo that, and I am sorry. However, both things that I told you as proof of myself are, to my knowledge, things they remain unaware of.”
“I will respect whatever decision you make in what you choose to share with them.”
“I will not, under any circumstances, allow you and B to be alone in the same room.”
The final rule gets him a raised eyebrow, one that he stares unflinchingly at.
“Why not?”
“I do not trust his emotional regulation when it comes to you. He is still safe, still Bruce or Batman or B. But he has made far too many mistakes for me to allow him to make decisions regarding you. I believe him to be, emotionally compromised.”
There is still skepticism in his own face. The face of a child that will never become an adult. Not the way he should have.
“And you won’t tell me why?”
“Not until we know for sure about eh paradox thing. And we both know there are some things neither of us are ever gonna want to talk about - for me, this is one of them. So, for now, no.”
The kid seems to accept this and they pack a small bag of Jason’s gear and books. They’re on his motorcycle in less than half an hour and are pulling up to the cave entrance in less than two hours.
There is no welcome party. Just the cave, and Alfred.
There is no glass case.
When Jason cuts the engine on the bike, he feels pins and needles down his spine.
He takes his gear out of his bag and moves towards the lockers to store it. He can’t watch this. Can’t watch his younger self approach Alfred. He tries not to hear what they say to each other. He fails.
Jason doesn’t have to imagine what he would have said to Alfred when he was 15, if he had gotten home. The conversation is eerily similar to his own nightmares.
“Hey Alfie.”
“Master Jason, it has been a long time since I have seen you, although I suspect the reverse is not quite true for you.”
He hears a huffed laugh behind him and squeezes his eyes shut.
“I’m sorry I ran away.”
Jason knows he must have steeled himself to the words, to say them now or risk not saying them at all.
“Master Ja-“
“And I know that I shouldn’t have done it. And that he, I said that it’s been years since you’ve probably thought about it, since I ran away, so maybe you’ve already gotten the apology but for me it was yesterday. And I don’t know how I’m going to go home and tell you that I’m sorry, and I know I will never get to skip chores for the rest of my life but Alfie I just need to know that you don’t hate me too.”
Jason remembers being 15 and thinking that Bruce didn’t trust him anymore, thinking that he killed a man, and that Dick was never really his older brother and that he just wanted a parent. Someone normal who could love him normally without it being twisted up into expectations and disappointment. He remembers the polite distance that he thought Alfred was using every time he called him Master Jason, and how it had felt like a barrier to one of the only adults he was almost convinced loved him. How he all but threw it back in the man’s face by running away to another continent to chase down a woman who sold him out.
Jason doesn’t know what Alfred’s face looks like. Doesn’t want to know.
Because he knows the tension in his own voice, the way it spells out tears. Knows that his younger self if already crying even if he can’t hear it at this distance. Cannot allow himself to picture what Alfred must look like.
“Oh Jason, my boy.”
And there is a soft sound behind him, a rustle of fabric and a hiccup pressed into a shirt.
He’s sure Alfred has bundled him up and carried him over to one of the cots, or chairs, or even the training mats. He doesn’t turn around. He wasn’t meant to hear this.
Because Alfred is murmuring nonsense into his hair. And holding him while he cries. And Jason forces himself to walk upstairs to the kitchen, to sit at the counter and wait.
He doesn’t know how much time has passed by the time he calls Babs.
“Oracle.”
“Jason, what do you want?”
“I need an alert set up. One that will go straight to my phone the second B is planet side. One that tells me when he is within 100 yards of the manor, even if he comes by Kryptonian.”
There’s a silence on the line. Either the bats were broadcasting to her through an open comm during his little speech the night before, or Dick filled her in. Either way, they both know she knows his last rule.
“Alright.”
“Thank you.”
Jason drifts for a while. At least until he hears footsteps closing the familiar distance between the cave and the kitchen.
Jason gives them both a small nod when the come in, and the younger Jason takes a seat right next to him, without a buffer, but they don’t speak much as Alfred starts his prep work on lunch.
It’s obvious the kid has a question when his shoulders start to tense.
“What’s your question?”
“What room am I staying in?”
Jason glances over to Alfred, and he looks about as calm as to be expected. He’d never expected to see Alfred cry, but he feels a dulled shock at the sight of his reddened eyes.
“You are welcome to your old room, or I can prepare a guest room for you.”
“Why wouldn’t you be using our room?”
“That fight I mentioned? Well, I was - hurt a while after. It was easier for me to stay on the first floor than to take the stairs. I’m not here as often anymore, so I mostly stick to the guest room if I am. You can take our room if you want it.”
There’s a small part of him that wants to pray that Alfred made the room look less like a shrine, or a time capsule, because the kid knows several years have passed for Jason and if he walks into the same room he remembers from earlier “that day” Jason isn’t sure how he’ll face those questions right now.
“I had some time to prepare it this morning, it might be close to what you remember and I took the liberty of stocking it with your old clothes that fit you now.”
“Thanks Alfie.”
After a while, the kid glances at him and Jason supposes he’s got a fair guess as to where he wants to go. He clears his throat.
“We’ll be in the library until lunch. And um, thank you.”
He doesn’t want to read the look on Alfred’s face. He doesn’t want to be in this kitchen. In this building. The look on Alfred’s face is kinder than he deserves.
“Of course, Master Jason. Do enjoy yourselves.”
They aren’t ambushed on the way to the library, but they aren’t alone when they enter.
The kid stiffens beside him and shoots a glance at Jason’s left hand. Counts the taps, and then relaxes.
Jason knows Cass also probably counted the taps, and might be able to figure out what they mean, but they’ve never talked about it.
“Hello, Cass.”
“Hello, Jasons.”
There’s a snort from the kid and Jason is grateful that she staged their meeting like this. Of everyone else in the manor, Cass is the one who hates seeing anyone, including Jason, in pain. She’s the only one aside from Alfred who seems to understand when he needs to leave and lets him.
“Want me to read in here or go put books in your room?”
The kid eyes Cass for a moment, and then Jason.
“You can take the books. But if you want to read too I won’t stop you.”
Jason takes that for what it is, that the kid will be alright for a few minutes, but doesn’t want more than 20 by himself.
Dick is waiting for him outside the door to his old bedroom.
“You didn’t say the rest of us couldn’t see him alone, just Bruce.”
Jason’s mouth is dry. He pushes the door open and is off kilter. It looks like when he was 15. It looks like he never went to high school. It looks just enough like his old room and yet everything that had made it his, was gone.
“It’s up to him. Bruce is the only one I won’t allow to be alone with him. It doesn’t have to be me in the room if the kid doesn’t want, but they won’t be alone.”
“You think he’ll hurt him?”
That startles Jason, badly enough that he laughs. It’s a broken sound, scratches all the edges of his throat and teeth as it leaves his mouth. Dick tenses behind him.
“You don’t want to know what I think.”
“Jason, I don’t know how to fix this.”
Jason sets the books down on his old desk and turns. He doesn’t want this conversation. He doesn’t want to keep talking to these people. He’s sick of the echoes of his old life, the one he can’t return to. He can’t sew himself back into belonging, he doesn’t have enough of the fabric of himself to try.
“You don’t have to try.”
Dick makes a sound like he’s been punched.
“Of course I do -“ Jason cuts him off.
“We weren’t brothers, Dick. You made that clear, not just to me, but to him. I don’t know what you’re trying to do now, but you don’t have to. I’m not asking you to. It’s not your job to try and clean up B’s mistakes. You’re running yourself into the ground trying to play clean up crew for him. Just stop.”
“I’m trying to fix my own mistakes Jason, not his. I shouldn’t have treated you like you weren’t my brother. I want you to be my brother now. But I don’t know how. I don’t know what you want, but I want to try. It’s the only regret I can’t live with.”
Dick looks close to tears. Scratch that, Jason can see them, running silently down his face. His breath just isn’t hitching and he can’t seem to decide if Jason will be more or less upset if he keeps up the eye contact, but he continues to stand outside Jason’s childhood bedroom. Waiting. Asking for permission. Asking to be let in.
“Is this your dry run of the speech you’re gonna give the kid?”
“This is the first time you’ve been in one place long enough for me to get the words out. You’ve bolted long before I had worked up the nerve to say it to you before.”
“You don’t know me.”
“I’d like to.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Then tell me how to prove it to you.”
Jason thinks it over. He thinks about himself, about a kid sitting on a roof and squinting at him, asking for proof. He’d known how to convince his 15 year old self. He’s not sure how to convince himself now. He wishes the dull ache in his chest would go away. That he could stop wanting people, stop remembering the familiarity they used to share, even if it wasn’t always happy.
It never stopped him, even when it should have. He would still run jobs for Willis, or get a fix for Catherine. He still tried to save Shelia. He wasn’t sure if he could survive it again. He didn’t last time.
But the part of him that he couldn’t avoid thinking about anymore, the part of him standing in his favorite room on the planet, just down the hall, felt like it was clawing through his ribcage. The part of him that would always be 15 and desperate to have an older brother, to have a family, someone who could just make the world go away for a minute. Not another fucked up parental figure, but someone else. That part of him was trying to escape himself and curl up inside the person who wouldn’t even cross the threshold of his door without permission.
“Ask me again in two weeks.”
“What?”
“Once the kid is gone, give me a week. If you’re serious.”
“I am. In two weeks, what then?”
Maybe more of his composure had cracked than he was willing to admit. Because the look he was giving Dick made the man crumple.
“I don’t know, but. I’d be willing to try.”
“Can I - please, Jason I won’t. Right now I just. Please come here. Just for a minute, please Jay.”
And maybe in two weeks Jason would be able to let him in, maybe he wouldn’t have to wait outside the door. But he knows the week he’s in for. It’s going to be long, and worse than any torture Jason’s been through so far. He isn’t sure he’ll be able to get through it.
To look a 15 year old in the eyes and send him to his death.
Jason fucking hates death magic.
So he takes a step forward, and another and another until the door is shut behind him. Until Dick has a death grip around his waist and forces Jason’s arms over his shoulders. His face is jammed right into his chest and Jason rests his own against Dick’s shoulder.
“I am so glad you’re alive, little wing.”
Jason allows himself five minutes. To memorize the sensation in a way that he wouldn’t be able to forget. Sometimes, when he would try to think back and picture Catherine, he would wish he had been able to memorize the hugs she gave him more clearly.
When he steps back, Dick’s hands spasm beneath him for a minute before seeming to remember himself and let go. He doesn’t try to wipe at his eyes and the smile he tries to give Jason is shaky. Jason doesn’t know what his face looks like. He’s not surprised when Dick’s hands brush tears from the undersides of his eyes.
He doesn’t think he can say anything else. And Dick seems to understand, because he gently turns them both in the direction of the library and walks with him until Jason’s steps are more sure.
When he turns to go in, Jason knows he’s damming himself. Because the glance he risks behind him, not quite turning back, but not not tuning back, is met with a smile he’s never seen before. One that makes his chest seize painfully because it’s full of something Jason can’t believe is still in him. That hasn’t been drowned out by the relentless wave that Jason has struggled to keep his head above. The one thing he hadn’t parted with even in his final moments.
Hope.
——
From the looks of it, the kid’s conversation with Cass had gone better than his own with Dick. He looks weary, and still a bit on edge, but he hasn’t been crying, nothings broken, no one’s yelling, and Cass has a small smile that is usually reserved for Steph on her face.
Whatever Cass can read in his own posture doesn’t seem to alter her stance, but the kid looks slightly more alarmed when he meets his eyes.
He taps his leg four times and gets a look of utter disbelief, but the subject is dropped before it’s even picked up.
“What’re you reading?”
“The Brothers Karamazov.”
Huh. Jason’s not sure what to say to that. Not without spoiling more than a book.
“Let me know if it’s any good.”
That gets him a laugh. Small, but there. And yeah, he wouldn’t believe he hadn’t read it either.
Cass looks like she’s said all she wanted to, so he sets up shop, cracks open something at random, and settles in. She briefly squeezes his shoulder, and then is gone.
It’s maybe 20 minutes before Jason hears the pages of a book not in his own hands stop turning.
“Are you sure about the four?”
One meant danger. Two meant stay alert. Three meant “safe enough.”
Four meant safe.
They’ve never used four taps for anyone. If Jason had to hazard a guess, the only person that would come close is Alfred, but he’d hadn’t shared the street code with the Bats back then, so it wouldn’t have meant anything to them.
“Yeah, Dickface wanted a quick chat. I’m not sure when he’ll try and drop by to talk to you, but I’d guess before lunch. Once he settles down a bit.”
“Cass said she’s new to learning English, that she doesn’t have much practice speaking yet. Said she reads posture better than words.”
“She gives the old man a run for his money in combat. Of all of us, she’s the best at hand to hand.”
“You didn’t try and school your posture when you came in.”
“Figured out pretty early on it’s not really worth it. And with multiple people in a room, trying to sort out all the contradictions can give her a headache. She’s never used it against us in a way we didn’t deserve, so I don’t hold it against her.”
“What did Dick want?”
“My fight with B is a bit bigger than I really wanted to concern you with. Dick wanted to talk to me before speaking with you so that I don’t complicate what he has to say to you with what he has to say to me.”
“Can we please figure out quicker whether or not there will be some sort of paradox once I’m sent back? Because I’ve been pretty good at rolling with your vague fucking answers, but I’m reaching my limit for bullshit.”
“Noted. After lunch I’ll try and get in touch with Lantern and see what the full deal is.”
“Do you want to be in here when Dick comes to talk to me?”
“Not about me kid. It’s up to you.”
“You didn’t stick around for Alfred.”
Jason doesn’t have anything to say to that. The kid’s right, it was the only break he was willing to give himself.
“You’ve done alright with him and Cass so far. Do you want me in here when Dick drops by?”
“I don’t know.”
It should surprise him more that this version of himself is giving him such direct answers. But then again, after reorienting, he supposes that out of everyone, Jason really had only trusted himself. He knew the lengths he would go to to protect himself, to stay alive. And if the kid knows he uses guns now, then maybe it really has settled in that nothing has changed except the knowledge of how far he’d really be willing to go.
“God, what is it with all of them and talking?”
Jason laughs a little at the frustration. It’s one he shares.
“One and I’ll get you out. Two and I’ll stay but Dick will leave. Three and we’ll both stay. Four and I’ll leave.”
He gets a brief nod, and then they’re both absorbed in their books for at least an hour.
He notices Dick in the doorway a full 15 seconds before the kid does. Neither startles, but he can see the kid roll his eyes from behind his book.
When he seems to catch himself with what he’s doing. He tenses.
Dick looks different from when he was 18. To Jason he’d seemed like an adult, but it’s obvious to him now that he’s a far cry from the adult he is now. He’s steadier, less volatile. Less teenage angst, more adult grief.
“Hey, Dick.”
There’s a small smile on Dick’s face and Jason tries to tell himself to focus on his book. He doesn’t succeed.
“Hey, Jason. I wanted to come and see you before lunch. It’s going to be pretty hectic and you’ll probably meet most of the new kids. But, it’s been a while since I’ve seen you at 15, and from what Jason tells me of the day you came from, I figured we should talk just between us.”
“I - you’re off world right now. Um, I left a note for B and Alfred but yeah. I kinda ran away. And, I don’t know if it’s different now because Jason said B adopted like a million people, but I did try and call you before I realized you were off world. I left a voice mail and. And maybe we’re not really brothers right now. But, I’m still sorry. I don’t know how I said it in the future, or when you got back, but -“
Jason doesn’t know what his own face is doing. But he can’t look at the kid. All he sees is Dick, who had already cried himself out earlier, get a fresh sheen of tears in his eyes.
It would have been kinder for Jason to shoot him.
The younger Jason risks a glance at Dick and then shoots Jason a look with far more panic in it than he feels equipped to handle. Jason taps three times.
Dick sucks in a long breath, trying to recenter himself under the scrutiny.
“It’s alright, little wing, I know I wasn’t a very good brother when you came to the manor. I couldn’t set aside my problems with Bruce and it wasn’t fair to you. I promise you none of that was your fault, or about you at all. You don’t have to apologize.”
There’s a look on younger Jason’s face that he’s trying and failing to school away. Of all the traits of Bruce he’s been told to have, Dick was the only one of them that ever properly managed that blank and unreadable look. Jason has always been too expressive.
It’s longing and a whole lot of distrust.
“B thinks I killed Garzonas, Dick.”
Dick does take a step forward then. Jason seems to realize that the couch he’s sitting on really is big enough for two, because he scoots over just a bit.
“B says a lot of things he regrets, little wing. I know for a fact that you didn’t kill him, that B’s wrong and it wasn’t fair of him to accuse you of that.”
“You know now maybe, but you’re not really my Dick Grayson.”
Dick takes another step forward and Jason stays perfectly still.
“Maybe not right now, but you’re still my little wing, no matter how old you are.” He shoots a wry glance at Jason. “Or how many of you there are.”
“What did you say before? Eighteen year old you?”
It’s an effort for Dick and Jason not to look at each other. To not give it away.
“By the time I got back planet side, things were different. We never really talked about it much, but I ripped B a new one when I learned what he’d said to you. It’s one of the bigger fights we’ve had actually. But I don’t think that’s really what you mean.”
“I should have told you that it wasn’t your fault. That when I was your age I wanted nothing more than to kill the man who took away my parents. That watching him walk around was an injustice I couldn’t stomach. That B had to physically restrain me and I had lectures about it for weeks before he let me anywhere near the case. I was so angry with him, with Zucco, and a part of me is still the kid that wanted him dead. That not every death is always a sad one, even if we’re not responsible for it. And I’m sorry he made you feel like he didn’t trust you because of it. You are my brother and I love you so much and it wasn’t your fault.”
Dick takes his final step towards the small couch and Jason throws himself at his brother. The brother he always wanted and could never seem to have.
“He just fell Dick, I swear I didn’t push him. And I’m glad he’s dead, he killed her and I just, I can’t believe B didn’t believe me. That he doesn’t trust me. I’m sorry I ran away, I’m sorry he fell. He said I’m not his son.”
Dick was wrapped around the younger Jason who had finally given in to the brother he’d always wanted.
Jason wonders if it would have been that easy if Dick hadn’t been in space. If he’d been able to crash at his apartment and talk this out with him before running off to Ethiopia.
But they hadn’t really been on the best terms anyways back then. Even leaving him a voicemail had felt like pushing the boundary of what Jason was allowed to ask for. At 15 he had only learned to mostly accept Alfred, and sometimes B. Dick was more of a distant idea than a real person, a tangible relationship.
When Jason tuned back into the conversation, eyes were being dried and there was a faint look sent his way. But no taps, so they were in the clear.
*I sometimes write drafts of fics in the notes section of my phone but a lot of them never get finished or are incomplete.
I’m not sure I’ll ever come back to/finish this but people are welcome to add/rewrite or do whatever with this.
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enby-mori · 11 months ago
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Jason "The Pit gave me a fully functional transitioned body" Todd VS Bruce "The Pit undid my transition" Wayne
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daisybell-on-a-carousel · 6 months ago
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Jason Todd, the second Robin
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fortanuvasyama · 1 year ago
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It really is like the cherry on top of the shitstorm he's going through rn lol
okay SO there's a series (that i think just technically wrapped up?) called THE JOKER: The Man Who Stopped Laughing. Basic premise of the story is that there are two (2) Jokers who are trying to kill the other; I'll call them Joker A and Joker B. Jason appears intermittently throughout the issues, but the important part right now is Issue #12 (which came out on on the seventh of November, so like six days ago) and which takes place after the end of Gotham War.
Joker B finds Jason, who is still under the effects of the fear-adrenaline thing Bruce did to him.
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Joker B wants Jason's help to kill Joker A and seems(?) to be disappointed by the fear-adrenaline thing stopping Jason from doing.... anything, I guess.
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So he gasses him. With Joker Gas.
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Everyone's interpretations of this will be different, BUT given what Jason does in the rest of the issue (i.e. chase down a train, hijack a jetpack, take control of a blimp, crash that blimp into the train in a desperate suicidal attempt to save Gotham from destruction)
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whereas during Gotham War he straight up couldn't even run because of the fear-adrenaline link
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(not pictured: me screaming i knew it!!! in despair)
it seems that the Joker gas DOES negate the paralyzing effects of the fear-adrenaline problem (I wouldn't consider it a fix though).
Joker does note that it will wear off fairly quickly.
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I'm sort of speculating that Jason now has a constant Joker-smile, but Jason's face being completely in the shadows for the rest of the issue makes me more confident in that theory. PLUS that's how Joker Gas has worked in the past.
(And don't worry, after Jason crashes the blimp into the train and sends the whole fiery mess into the river, Rose fishes Jason out of the water and resuscitates him.)
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And we still don't see Jason's face, soooooooo... idk I think my theory holds some water! (pun intended lol)
I hope this helps!
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brucewaynehater101 · 10 months ago
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Red Hood Time Travel AU: Angst Edition
(TW: blood, gore, death, Jason's Ethiopia scene, Joker [y'all, it's rough])
Through the power of magic fuckery, Jason gets transported back a few weeks before his fifteen year old self goes to Ethiopia. Figuring that he has a little time before the explosion, he decides to fix a few issues early.
He skips his way past Talia's assassin defenses, scoops up a growling and stabby child, and then sashays his way to Gotham.
Not wanting to be interrogated, he leaves the kid on Wayne Manor's doorstep wrapped up in a green bow. The words "Congrats! It's a boy!" are taped to his forehead.
While Bruce is dealing with the new kid, Red Hood forgot to account for the tension between Batman and Robin. Instead of trying to fix their relationship, the appearance of a new kid pushes young Jason out even faster. Red Hood only finds this out after dropping off kid Tim.
Cursing, Jason desperately chases Robin all the way to Ethiopia. He chases him to that damned warehouse.
Seeing the younger version of himself get slammed with a crowbar, watching the scene from a third person's point of view (but still an older Jason's POV), causes the man to freeze. He's watching the worst time of his life being replayed and he can't move. He can't announce his presence to Joker.
After all his training, after the showdown with Batman and the clown, Red Hood can't even step into the light. What if the monster sees him? What if it turns that bloody, dripping metal on the older version of himself?
Who is Jason anymore? Is he still the kid wrapped in chains begging for his dad to save him? Is he the man available to save himself but incapable?
Each grunt of pain, the choked cries, and the slap of flesh breaking they all numbly hit Red Hood's ears. At the same time that he tensely watches Joker's every move, another part of him is barely aware of where he is.
He must make some noise, perhaps a cut off whimper or a scuff of his boot, because manic green eyes flicker away from their prize. Glee lights up lime colored eyes as the Joker's hand twirls the crowbar. Blood droplets fly from the metal as the clown steps towards a trembling man in red armor.
After the first hit, the first drawn-out laugh, Jason loses time. He comes back to himself on the floor next to the child version of himself. The teen hasn't noticed that Red Hood is responsive again. This allows the man the ability to watch realization and then resignation settle on the kid's shoulder. They both know that the timer and their injuries will not allow them to escape. They're going to die thousands of miles from home, from their dad.
Through the twinge in his arm, Red Hood reaches his hands to the young bird. He frees him from the chains so that his finally moments aren't as trapped. Two broken hands hold each other as they both stare up at steel beams. Twin breaths sluggishly cough out, and the timer beeps ever closer to zero.
Any second now, Jason will die. At least this time he isn't alone.
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nobrain-onlysteven · 1 year ago
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No thoughts just Interlude IV based on Under the Hood mixed with Arkham Knight with Red Hood vs Batman and the dead kid they’re talking about is Jason, and throughout the song, Bruce slowly realizes that Red Hood actually is Jason, although not the same one he once knew.
Red Hood to Batman about the old Jason:
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dollishmehrayan · 1 month ago
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HOW DIFFERENT BATBOYS APOLOGIZE AFTER A ARGUMENT ── .✦
a/n: Lowkey I feel like I’m like slightest but problematic in arguments (not me exposing myself) but srs I got this request by a anon! (Here) So yeah tysmm, I won’t be writing the argument because lowkey, I can’t do angst at this time 💔😞
(Tags: how different batboys apologize after a argument)
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BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦
The "I'm Sorry, But…" Apology: Bruce’s apology might be a little stiff at first. He’s not great with words when it comes to his emotions, but he does know how to make up for things. His apology might start with something like, "I know I’m… difficult, but I didn’t mean to hurt you." The real comedy comes in when he tries to "fix" the situation by throwing money at it—like suggesting an extravagant dinner or buying you a new wardrobe because, "I know it will make you feel better."
Trying Too Hard to Be ‘Normal’: He might try to act like he’s “not Bruce Wayne” for a second, attempting to be goofy to show you he’s truly sorry. Picture Bruce awkwardly trying to make a joke: "I’m sorry I made you feel like I was ignoring you. How about we go out… without my bodyguards this time? You know, like a normal date?"
The Silent Apology: More often than not, Bruce will show you he’s sorry with actions, like preparing your favorite meal or doing something thoughtful (such as leaving you a handwritten note or taking care of something you've been stressing about). But if you press him for words, he might simply mutter, “I’m not good at this… but I am sorry,” and leave it at that.
DICK GRAYSON ── .✦
The Full-On “I’m Sorry, Please Forgive Me” Routine: Dick is extremely sorry whenever he’s messed up, and he knows how to make it entertaining. He’ll show up with flowers, chocolates, or maybe even your favorite ice cream. And then, with a totally sincere but dramatic flair, he’ll say something like, “Listen, I know I was an idiot, and I have no excuse except that I’m clearly emotionally stupid when I’m upset. So please, for the love of all things holy, let me make it up to you.”
Humorous Apologies: Dick might also make you laugh with his over-the-top apologies. Maybe he tries to outdo himself by setting up an elaborate “romantic” date, only for it to completely go awry (think spaghetti noodles flying everywhere or a very unromantic “romantic” location). He’ll laugh it off, saying, “Okay, so maybe that’s not exactly how I imagined it… but you have to admit, it’s unforgettable.”
The Super Dramatic ‘I’m Sorry’ Speech: After an argument, Dick is not shy about admitting when he’s wrong. He’ll deliver a heartfelt, exaggerated apology, something like, "I was a fool, and I see now that I was wrong. You are perfect, and I am definitely not. How do you put up with me?" Then, he might give you puppy-dog eyes, as if expecting you to immediately forgive him.
JASON TODD ── .✦
The “I Know I Messed Up, But… Here’s a Gift” Approach: Jason is quick to apologize, but it’s not usually with a heartfelt speech. Instead, he’ll show up with a gift—maybe something small but thoughtful, like your favorite snack or a new book he knows you’ve been eyeing. He’ll casually hand it to you and say, “Alright, alright, I messed up. But you know I’m not great at this, so here’s my attempt at being a decent human being.”
Comedic Self-Deprecation: Jason, knowing he’s not always the best communicator, might start with a little self-deprecating humor. "Look, I’m sorry, okay? You’re right, I am a jerk sometimes. But hey, at least I didn’t set anything on fire this time, right?" He’ll try to make you laugh with his inability to fully express himself, but you know he means it.
The “I’m Sorry, Now Let’s Get Back to Normal” Routine: Jason might awkwardly try to move past the argument, brushing it off with a gruff, "Look, I’m sorry for being a pain. Can we just… go back to how things were?" It's not the most eloquent apology, but it’s Jason, and it’s his way of saying he wants to make things right without diving too deep into feelings.
TIM DRAKE ── .✦
The "I Overthought This" Apology: Tim is a perfectionist, so when he messes up, he’ll overthink how to apologize. He’ll probably try to do something really thoughtful, like writing you a letter or planning a whole day dedicated to making it up to you. But the real comedy comes when he gets so wrapped up in planning that he’s awkward about it. "I, uh, made you a list of everything I could do to make it up to you, starting with… well, taking you out for dinner. You like sushi, right? But if you prefer something else, I can also—"
The "What Do You Need?" Routine: Tim might also take a very logical approach. He’ll ask, "What would you like me to do to fix this?" but in a way that makes it seem like he’s creating a spreadsheet of ways to apologize. "I’ve compiled some options for you to choose from. Option one: Dinner. Option two: A walk in the park. Option three: Let me do your laundry for the next week…”
The 'Nervous, Over-Apologetic' Tim: Tim is likely to be the one who apologizes over and over again. He’ll say “I’m sorry” about a dozen times in a single conversation, with increasing levels of anxiety. "I really didn’t mean it that way. I’m so sorry. Are we okay? You don’t seem mad, but if you are, I understand, and I’m really, really sorry."
DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦
The Reluctant Apology: Damian isn’t one to apologize easily, and when he does, it’s more formal. He might say something like, “I apologize for my behavior. It was uncalled for.” And then he’ll awkwardly pause, before adding, "I... didn’t mean to upset you." The comedic part comes when he clearly doesn’t understand how he’s hurt you. He might ask, “Is there anything I can do to make it right? Or… was this just another one of your moods?”
The Unintentional "Nice Guy" Apology: Damian will give you something as an apology—perhaps a bouquet of flowers or something that he “found interesting,” but he’ll likely be very stiff about it, saying something like, “This is for you. I thought you would appreciate it. It’s… an apology gift.” He’ll be surprised when you react positively, since he’s convinced that you’ll just think it’s lame
A Small Gesture of Remorse: As an apology, Damian might ask you to join him for a quiet walk or for tea, giving you a rare moment of sincerity. He might even throw in a joke (but it’ll be one of those very dry ones), saying, “The tea will be of the highest quality, so I suppose that should count for something."
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morverenmaybewrites · 3 months ago
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Jason Todd | Jealousy and Insecurity Headcanons 
“How do they handle jealousy or insecurity?”
I think it’s fair to say at any point post-torture, Jason is just a tangled mess of emotions, and because of his trauma, he often neglects (or refuses) to be introspective with his own feelings. Self-reflection is hard, and it’s even harder when your own psyche is a minefield of terrible memories. 
He can look at a slice of chocolate cake and feel bile rise in the back of his throat, and he’ll jolt away before he could even start to remember that it’s because Joker had served him rotten cake on his birthday 
(If he looks closely, in his mind’s eye, he can see it with startling clarity: the worms wriggling underneath the pale light, so white they looked like shards of bone bone)
(He doesn’t want to remember how, at that time, he had been so hungry that he nearly asked for a bite because nothing could be worse than the empty, gnawing feeling in his belly. He doesn’t want to remember how his mouth nearly watered at the sight.)
And so–just like his reflection–Jason makes a habit of not looking at his own emotions too closely. It’s part of the reason why things like jealousy, envy, insecurity tend to manifest as the emotions he’s most familiar with: anger, disgust, self-loathing.
So, for example, pre-relationship, someone walks into the diner.
(Someone scarless, someone with an easy smile, someone whose past is not so heavy that it feels like a weight on their shoulders.) 
Maybe they flirt with you, maybe they don’t. It doesn’t even have to be anything big to set his teeth on edge because I feel like Jason is, on a fundamental level, jealous of the people around him.
(Jealous of their normal lives, their horror-free past, jealous of their unbranded faces.)
It’s highly likely that he wouldn’t even recognize the emotion for what it is, instead, it will manifest as anger–
(Because anger is familiar, anger is easy, and it is almost as natural as breathing, he’ll accept it without even a second thought.)
It will manifest as self-loathing 
(Because a stranger can make you smile so easily, because a stranger wouldn’t have to deal with his dangerous life, because a simple stranger who walked into the diner is a better fit for you than he ever will be.). 
And because he doesn’t know how to process it, he’ll let his emotions simmer for days, bubbling just underneath his skin. He’ll be quicker to anger, perhaps a little more reckless during patrols. 
(Knuckles cracked and bleeding after a brutal scuffle, lips split where it had smashed against his teeth, and he can’t help but think to himself that this is all he’d ever known, all he’d ever deserve.) 
(Certainly, he doesn’t deserve someone like you.)  
And it will take someone like Dick or Barbara piecing together what’s happening and sitting him down. Maybe Dick, ever cheerful and ever willing to help, who is practically ecstatic at being able to do the Big Brother talk of Talking About Girls with Jason.
Only to be met with an awkward silence, a blank stare. 
“What the hell are you talking about?”
And it will sink in, the knowledge burning like acid in his stomach.
Jason doesn’t even know. 
He doesn’t even know that he’s jealous, doesn’t know the reason for his sudden aggression, his bursts of recklessness. 
So used is Jason to burying what he feels and what he thinks that he couldn’t even identify why he felt so angry, why bile rises up in his throat at the sight of you speaking with someone else.
And Dick would feel a sudden pain lance across his forehead. 
And maybe he’d sigh.
Because it’s going to be a long night. 
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dcxdpdabbles · 15 days ago
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Holiday request: congratulations it's triplets
Jason avoids his kids for a while.
He didn't mean to, but it was hard to face them after realizing he passed along his burden. The triplets didn't seem to mind his absence, running amok through the Annex without a care in the world.
Word of Jazz got around quickly despite Bruce and Tim working overtime to manage the rumors. Jason was worried about how she reacted to the articles circulating terrible stories about her.
He had been so worried he had given his family permission to watch them closer. It was an invasion of privacy, and it drove him up a wall to stoop to Bruce's level, but Jason had to know.
He had already left her to raise three kids on her own. The thought of leaving her to deal with the media storm he caused was unthinkable. Steph had been the one to volunteer for the reconnaissance mission, stating that her absence wouldn't be as noticeable as someone who was not living in the manor.
Jason let her loose into the Annex and buried himself in Red Hood missions, trying not to let his stomach turn whenever he thought of those small faces lit up in green. Every once in a while, he would click open the daily reports Steph uploaded into their shared drive, smiling at his children's antics.
Out of the three, Danny was the voice of reason. Dan was always down to brawl, and Danielle had wanderlust. Steph made multiple notes that his children were intelligent beyond their years- he knew that already- but to see examples of how their intelligence showed had Jason puffing out his chest.
He was about to brag about his kids to some of his men in a fit of madness when one report showed the three re-wiring a toaster to shoot out blades for self-defense. Jasmine had to confiscate it.
Thankfully he had snapped his mouth shut before even a hint of his kids left his mouth- he already exposed them as Jason Todd, he couldn't image the danger they would be in as Red Hood's children. It didn't stop him from listening in whenever his men gathered around and chatted about their kids.
He made a note to pay for Amber's kid to go on that field trip he was so excited about. The less he could do for having his mom in Red Hood's gang.
Jason found himself very intrigued with Jasmine as well. He was worried she was struggling with the news. Her reaction to the paparazzi at the zoo had been to burst into tears.
Now, it was to snort and roll her eyes. She even joked with the kids, letting them read what was said about her and mocking the gossip rags.
Jason couldn't figure her out.
She was tough as nails and gentle as cotton. Jasmine's communication with her friends and co-workers was distant. She kept them at arm's length like she wasn't expecting to make deep bonds.
That could be that she had no time as a single mother to three, but even now, while living at the Wayne Manor, she seemed in no real hurry to lay down the foundations for a permanent life. It worried him greatly because the last person he saw acted like that, lost herself to drugs, and Jason ended up on the streets.
There were also no other signs of the triplets having Pit Madness after the zoo incident. Steph, not so studly, highlighted this in her reports, telling him without telling him to come home, but Jason just couldn't bear it.
Before he realized it, a month went by, and his kids grew without him again. Jason attempted to find a reason to reappear in their lives, psyching himself out at the last second.
A burst of reality came in the shape of a tiny voice of reason.
"What are you doing here?" Danny snapped at him, disregarding all the guns being aimed at him. The boy had burst into a Red Hood meeting, somehow getting past his outdoor guards, up to the second floor where the meeting was being held, and kicking open the door before anyone had even known he was there.
His glowing green eyes had frozen Jason in his seat until he realized it was the lens of the mask He was grateful that Danny had considered keeping his identity hidden by wearing the red half-mask Jason used to sport during his Prince of Gotham days.
He was even wearing a little suit, a blatant attempt to replicate the same outfit of Jason's club running days. It would have been adorable if it hadn't been so heart-stopping to think his boy would ever get mixed up in this life.
He quickly raised a hand, slowly closing it as a single to make everyone stand down. Everyone seemed to be relieved when he did, as none of his men liked harming children.
It's why they were in Jason's inner circle. He didn't hire assholes who thought it was okay to mess up a child.
Danny marched up to the conference table, his little head not reaching the tabletop because Jason was dramatic enough to ask for a raised table and force all his people into stole-like chairs. It didn't deter Danny since his son quickly waved Harry over to him.
His treasurer and bookkeeper shoot Jason a look of panic but move towards the boy once he gets a nod from the Red Hood. Harry crouched down to Danny's level, lending his ear to the small boy.
Jason couldn't see what they were doing until Danny used Harry's linked hands as a stepping stool to scramble onto the table. Harry, for his part, looked to be fighting a smile when Danny grabbed his shoulder to steady himself.
Once the small boy's feet were on the table, he straightened his vest and marched up to Jason. He stopped with a snap of his legs together and demanded while crossing his tiny arms. "Why haven't you been home? Mom misses you."
Jason's mouth opened and closed like a fish, but no one could see that with his helmet. Danny's green eyes narrowed. "No words to defend yourself, Dad?"
The people in the room gasped. Jason felt himself cower in front of the small child, who clicked his tongue and tapped his foot in the way he had seen Jasmine do when upset with the children. "I don't know why she likes you so much, but she does. You have one hour to finish up your meeting, and then we'll go home for dinner. Mom made lasagna."
Jason couldn't believe what he was hearing. Words tumbled out of his mouth before he could think it through. "Who's going to make me?"
Danny snapped his fingers, and the doors were thrown up a second time by Dan and Dani, wearing the same outfits but in green and blue, respectively. The green lens remains a constant with them, too, and really, it's not good for his health. "We will drag you there. If we figure out the family's secret, we can force you to go."
"We aren't afraid of biting," Dan threatens, clicking his teeth together hard enough. His voice modifier picks it up into a deeper chomp than it was.
Dani throws her ponytail over her shoulder in one smooth motion, nodding her head. The adults are all attempting to smother their laughter when she aims a plastic sword at Jason as if she were making a dangerous treat.
"I''llCutYou" She says in a fast little growl and honestly. It's the least threatening thing he's ever been told.
"Do you yield to our demands?" Danny demands, sounding smug somehow, and suddenly, Jason finds he doesn't want to be anywhere else than at the Wayne Annex having dinner with these little monsters.
He laughs, throwing his head back, ignoring how Danny's tiny fists landed on his chest in punches that fell like air. He reaches out, dragging his son into a hug, and breathes him in as his other children round the table to land harmless punches of their own. He grabs them all, crushing them against him and feeling their heartbeats against him.
His children are alive and come to drag him from the darkness. How could he ignore their call?
"Meeting adjourned." He says, standing with the three hanging off him. "I have dinner plans."
His men smile back, eyes soft as Jason marches out. Dan climbs to sit on his shoulders, releasing a battle cry when he manages to reach his goal while Danny sits in one of his arms, content with being carried. Dani sits in the other but moves about, patting her sword against Jason's biceps in a random rhythm.
He feels an overwhelming sense of gratitude to the heavens. He has them at this very moment.
Jason is going to be there for his children. No more running. No more hiding.
Pit Maddnes be damned.
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delusionsofgrandeur13 · 2 days ago
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“jay—” 
the sentence you somehow thought you could form dies in your throat as your breath shudders in your lungs. 
“yes, my love?” your roommate, jason todd, looks up from where he’s happily situated: between your thighs. his attention now divided, you’re mercifully granted a break. you gulp for air, your hands over your face. 
“i just need—” 
“what? what do you need?” he cuts you off, impatient that you’re pulling him away from what he’s been so dutifully working on for probably an hour..if not more. “you want me to stop?” jason teases, rubbing a warm, calloused hand over the meat of your thigh. “does it feel too good?”
“w-what?” confused, you shake your head. “i don’t—”
“i think you need someone to worry about you for once, huh?” he raises an eyebrow at you, causing your cheeks to heat as your hands fly back up to your face. “what, you don’t agree?” 
you open your mouth to argue, then close it. then open it again, thinking. 
“mm. that’s what i thought.” your roommate smirks at you, turning his gaze back onto the part of you that’s still pulsing with heat from his ministrations. his chin’s slick from how much time he’s spent tongue deep in your pussy. 
but he wants more. 
wants to feel your hands in his hair again, gripping as he draws orgasm after orgasm out of you. wants to feel your thighs tight around his head, your self-control wavering as your back arches off the mattress, again and again. 
wants nothing but to breathe you in as he presses feathery light kisses to your puffy clit, watching you squirm from the barely-there pressure of his lips. 
wants you, all of you, the happy, sad, messy, angry, loving, caring, beautiful you,
—but jason: dead and revived, beaten and bruised, silent and steadfast, your jason, can’t always put that into words, can he?
so he wants you to feel it, really feel it:
in the way he pats your thigh lovingly as he runs his tongue through your folds, over and over. 
in the way he carries you to bed when you fall asleep on him in the living room. kisses your forehead as he tucks you in.
in the way he brushes your hair out of your face before he grabs you by the cheeks and your lips meet. 
in the way he knows your favorite, well, everything. 
in the way he’s always holding your hand when the two of you walk anywhere.
in the way his pupils always widen, huge and blown out, when he looks at you, making your heart pound in time with his as he holds your gaze. 
in the way he washes your hair in the shower, 
makes your coffee in the mornings, 
buys and arranges flowers for you,
wears that cologne you like,
knows the sidewalk rule, 
kisses your forehead,
laughs with you,
smirks at you,
loves you.
and yet you two are.. 
you two, and you both worry. 
of course, you both worry. 
he worries he’s not enough for you—
his lifestyle, his history..how could he ever be what you need? how could he give you the life you deserve?
—and you worry you’re a little too much sometimes. 
a man like that? with his past, his present? and yet he takes care of you like it’s the easiest thing in the world. like he could do it in his sleep. 
all you know is that he doesn’t have to worry, shouldn’t have to, because whatever, or however much he thinks he wants something, you want it just as much..if not more. 
and what you want next? to make it official? to really, truly, make him your jason?
well. 
how could he refuse you?
606 notes · View notes
julymusings · 1 month ago
Note
Jason is the type of person to put on some shitty romance movie only for his date to fall asleep and for him to get strangely invested.
are you still watching?
i saddle up my horse and I ride into the city. i make a lot of noise 'cause the girls they are so pretty. riding up and down broadway on my old stud leroy, and the girls say...
or; 3 times Jason Todd gets hooked on your television choices [3.7k]
jason todd x fem!reader; this is so real...and so clever!!! i LOVE the concept. i did get a little carried away and lost the plot unforch...pt3 is just a sex dream ab cowboy!jason so. also I apologize for taking forever to respond. tw...klance mentioned💀 & suggestive but not explicit. and i do bash on voltron in pt2 a little but it's all in good fun🫶i did my time with them divider
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i.
“Baby, I love you, but if you don’t pick something soon I’ll call Dick in here to entertain us with his backflips.”
“Oh, be quiet,” you huff. Though as you scroll, once again, through all the options on Netflix, you fear his threat may be serious.
You reach the bottom of the page, having found nothing. You peek at Jason from the corner of your eye and hover the cursor over the ‘Back to Top’ button.
“No.” He reaches to grab the laptop from you, but his injuries hinder his usual swiftness. You shriek in objection and roll away to the other side of the bed, computer held tight in your clutches.
“Babe.” He groans. He tries to reach across the bed to you, but his grasp falls short by mere centimeters as you frantically begin another scan of the site.
“I will find something, I promise!” You say. “Just one more minute!”
He rolls his eyes. “You said that ten minutes ago. And I’m the one who’s injured, shouldn’t I get to pick?”
You spare him a glance, pondering over his wrapped foot elevated on a pillow, and the bandages around his torso. His arm has fallen flat on his bed, having given up on its attempt to catch you. That alone should guilt you into saying yes; his childhood bed is just shy of too small for his adult self, so being unable to reach the other end speaks to the severity of his pain. And to add salt to the wound, you know he isn’t exactly fond of staying at his father’s house, but he is in no shape to recuperate alone.
“I would say yes, but you don’t know any good shows! All you watch is Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives.”
He scoffs. “I thought you liked that show!”
You scoff back, imitating him. “I did. But a person can only stand so much of Guy Fieri talking with his mouth full.”
He quiets, probably searching for a rebuttal, but you can’t imagine he’ll find any. You use the opportunity to resume your search unimpeded. 
After a few minutes, you perk up. “Ooh, they added New Girl on Netflix!” You scoot back over on the bed to his side, satisfied with your choice.
“What is that?” Jason asks.
You whip your head to him. “You don’t know New Girl?”
He pushes a stray hair behind your ear, eyes narrowed. “Should I?”
Your eyes flit to the computer screen, then back to him, and you sigh. “No, I guess not.”
You’re about to press play on the first episode but stop yourself. “Do you want to choose? You’re already hurting enough, I don’t want to torture you with this too. Besides, I’ve seen it, like, a million times anyway.”
“No, it’s okay.” He turns the computer towards him and presses play. “I don’t need any of my siblings barging in and catching me enjoying Guy Fieri. I’d never hear the end of it.”
You titter at his remark and set your laptop in the middle of you, a little farther away so you don’t have to crane your neck to see the screen. He lifts his arm to drape it around you but struggles with raising it past shoulder level. You meet him halfway by ducking underneath his arm and settling it over your shoulders. He kisses the top of your head in thanks.
Leaning against his chest, the rise and fall of his breathing is too hypnotic for you to focus. Paired with the warmth of his skin, bare so as not to obstruct access to his wound dressings, you are quickly lulled to sleep.
It must be several hours later when movement against you disturbs you from sleep. The room is almost pitch black, save for the dim glow of the computer, still on and resting on your legs a few feet away. The air is thick with late-night silence, and fighting against the heaviness of your eyelids is so laborious that you have to use your hand to pry them open. Jason is squirming next to you, hand outstretched, low huffs of pain slipping from his mouth.
A shot of adrenaline courses through you and you stumble into action.
“What happened? What hurts?” The laptop tips off your legs and falls to the bed, landing on its side as you scramble to your knees and face him. “Should I get someone?”
“What? No, I— I’m fine, why?” He squints at you through the darkness.
“You—” Your throat catches and you take a deep, steadying breath. “It sounded like you were in pain.”
“No, honey, I’m fine. It’s okay. You can go back to sleep.” Jason takes your wrist and gently pulls you back into his side. You don’t budge.
“Then why were you moving?” You scan him for any signs of a worsening injury. Downplaying his own pain is not something you can put past him, unfortunately.
“I…” His eyes look past you for a quick second. He swallows. “I wasn’t,” he says, unconvincingly.
You narrow your eyes at him, then turn around to see what he is looking at, despite his (false) reassurances. Your laptop, still on its side, lies awake and open to the Netflix website. You pick it up to get a closer look at the screen. The player has gone dark, and overcast in white lettering; ‘New Girl: Are you still watching?’
You turn back to Jason, dumbfounded. “You risked hurting yourself…for this?”
Now adjusted to the darkness, you can see his cheeks tinged with pink. “No?”
“Jason.”
“You’re the one who put it on!”
You check the clock in the corner of the screen.
“It’s three AM, Jay. You need to sleep if you want your body to heal.” You argue.
“It wasn’t on purpose!” He defends. “I can’t sleep sitting up, and I need help lying down.” he fails to meet your eyes as he says this.
You cross your arms, tilting your face to catch his gaze. “And what am I doing here?”
“I didn’t want to wake you up,” he mumbles.
You just stare. It takes fifteen seconds for him to break.
“Fine. I was enjoying the show. I wanted to keep watching. Happy?” He punctuates his statement with a shrug but groans through a clenched jaw, remembering the injuries to his upper body.
“Okay, just—” You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose between your fingers. “It’s too late for this. Can we please go to sleep?” You don’t wait for an answer, shutting the laptop and placing it on the bedside table.
He leans off the headboard so you can help him shift his body down the bed and lie flat, and you lie down next to him.
“Comfy?” You ask.
“Yes.”
“Need anything?”
“No.”
“Okay. Goodnight,” you whisper. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” Jason says quietly.
You snuggle into his side. It’s quiet for a few minutes, but you can tell by his breathing pattern that he’s still awake. He whispers your name into the darkness, hoping you’re still awake.
“Yes, honey?” You answer.
There is a beat of silence. Then, “When do Nick and Jess get together?”
“Go to sleep.”
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ii.
Jason leans against the kitchen counter behind him, hands in his pockets, as he watches the microwave dish spin in a slow circle. It whirs under the yellow lightbulb, the flat paper packet puffing up among raucous popping. With sixty seconds left to kill, he searches the cabinets for a large enough bowl to fit the family-size packet of popcorn, as well as the various add-ons you adore.
The first time you invited Jason over for a movie night, in the beginning stages of your relationship, he looked on in wonder as you combined the grocery store’s entire snack aisle into one salty, sugary, buttery abomination in a jumbo Hello Kitty bowl.
“How do you even come up with something like this?” He had asked, ripping open the bag of pretzels as you emptied the fresh batch of popcorn into the bowl.
“Wait!” You stopped him just before he could pour the pretzels in. “Sugary stuff first. While it’s still hot. Then it gets all melty and good.” You dumped an entire bag of mini marshmallows, caramels, and M&M’s in, and gave it a few stirs. “And to answer your question, I was in high school and experiencing intense munchies.”
You gave him the OK to add the pretzels, so he did. “I envy your dentist,” he said, and you stuck your tongue out at him.
Now, with plenty more movie nights under his belt, you trusted him enough to assemble your party mix on his own while you select something to watch.
The microwave beeps. As he rips open the popcorn bag, you yell from the living room.
“Hey, what about The Bourne Identity?” You call out. “Have you—? Wait.” You cut yourself off.
“What’s it about?” He yells back. You don’t answer. “Babe?” He calls again.
“Never mind! I’m gonna keep looking!”
He adds the sugary snacks first, stirring them until they melt, just how you like it. He’s tearing into the bag of pretzels when he hears you shriek.
He drops the bag and bolts to the living room, pretzels scattering all over the counter and floor.
“What happened?” His eyes bounce around the entire room, scanning for any threat.
He’s unsure what he expected to find, but it was a tad more perilous than you simply sitting on the couch, staring open-mouthed at the TV.
“Uh…nothing. Sorry.” Your face flushes. The remote is still raised and pointed at the screen.
“Vol…tron?” Jason reads from the title sequence that plays in the preview window. “Is this some kind of anime?”
“No…sort of, maybe,” you say. “It doesn’t matter. I'm just surprised to see it is all. I loved this show when I was younger.”
“Is it any good?” He asks.
You look to the side, thinking about it. You settle on: “Define good.”
His forehead wrinkles, mouth falling slightly open. “Did you…enjoy watching it?”
“Define enjoy.”
“Okay, forget I asked.” He sighs and goes back to the kitchen.
When he returns a few minutes later, floor pretzels in the trash and counter pretzels swept into the bowl, you’re already watching the first episode.
“This your choice?” He asks. You take the bowl in your lap and he settles down next to you, his arm wrapping around your waist.
“Definitely not. Just wanted to reminisce until you got back.” You frown at the bowl. “Where are all the pretzels?”
He chuckles. “That’s what you get for screaming. Dropped ‘em on the floor.”
You pout. “I didn’t scream. I was surprised. Now the ratio’s off, there’s not enough saltiness to balance the sweetness.”
“Poor baby,” he croons sarcastically. “Only getting a quarter bag of pretzels ‘stead of a full.”
You were going to switch the television to a movie you both liked, but you spent the entire first episode bickering about the important role each ingredient plays in, what you call, “The Party Mix Experience”. The next episode auto-played on its own, and you let it.
During the second episode, you and Jason were absorbed in a competition to see who could catch more flying popcorn pieces in their mouth (Jason), which then devolved into seeing who could dodge more popcorn kernels thrown to the face (also Jason).
By the beginning of episode three, you settled into meaningless chatter while paying half-hearted attention to the TV screen, and by the end, you were laid out on the couch, head in Jason’s lap, while you scrolled on your phone and he stroked your hair. You drifted to a light sleep, coaxed by his fingers scratching at your scalp. 
When you wake from your nap, there’s a blanket draped over you and Jason’s hand is still settled in your hair. You push yourself up to sit beside him, speaking through a yawn. “How long was I asleep?”
Jason adjusts the blanket so it covers both of you. “Um…I dunno. Three episodes, maybe.”
“You’re still watching,” you remark, as the end credits for episode six begin to roll.
He says nothing. You both stare as the auto-play timer for the next episode counts down. Next to the remote, his fingers twitch.
You purse your lips, suppressing a grin. “You know, there’s quite an online community for people who like this show.”
“Ha. Were you part of it?” He muses.
“Yup. And I deserve a medal of valor for my time in those trenches.” You kiss his cheek and stand up, stretching your arms. “I’m going to bed. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight,” he says. His voice is low and gravelly with weariness.
You turn toward the bedroom when a call of your name stops you.
“Is it just me, or is something goin’ on between the red guy and the blue guy?”
“Oh, honey,” you sigh. It’s loud and pitying. You bend down to cup his cheek and draw him in for a kiss. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Babe!” He yells after you as you disappear into the bedroom. “You didn’t answer my question!”
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iii.
It’s only a Hallmark movie, but with how he’s reacting, it might as well be six hours of paint drying. Jason is not eager to spend his night watching some boring, formulaic cliché, but it's late and you don't have anything better to do.
“That is absolutely not true,” he says when you counter his protests with this excuse.
“It’s two o’clock in the morning, Jay. Is there anything else to do, except sleep?” You rub your tired eyes. Both of you could use some sleep but, burrowed as you are under a pile of blankets, moving all the way from the couch to the bed seems impossible.
He leans in close, lips brushing against your ear. “I can think of a few things.”
His warm breath tickles your neck, and you feel a shiver despite the heat you’ve conserved in your little blanket burrito. The faintest of kisses is pressed behind your ear, and his eyes glint with familiar mischief when he pulls back.
You brush him off, rolling your eyes in amusement. “Do any of those things involve flannel-wearing farmer hunks or the True Meaning of Christmas?”
Turning back to the television, you take the remote from his hands, catching the tail end of a disgruntled mumble about how ‘I can buy a flannel…’
He grumbles a few more complaints during the movie’s first act (‘he’s not even that hunky’) before you scold him to silence. Once he’s quieted, and you settle more comfortably into him, your head is nestled securely in the crook of his shoulder with arms wrapped around his bicep. The warmth of him has you fighting against the tempting call of REM. Right around when the independent, successful, businesswoman protagonist discovers the handsome, flannel-clad man who helped repair her car is also the single father who runs an honest family business, you start to drift off, falling asleep amid thoughts of wearing plaid in the countryside.
You open your eyes to find yourself standing in a vast, open field. 
Thump. Thump.
It’s unclear where the sound is coming from, but a splash of red in your periphery stands out. You turn; there’s a barn off in the distance.
Thump.
Your legs carry you in its direction. Growing closer by the second, the thumping sound echoes louder in your ears. When you round the corner of the structure, the front doors are propped wide open by cement blocks, and bales of hay are stacked outside the doors. A large figure, whose back is to you, is lugging a bale by its straps. He hauls it onto his shoulder, and his shirtsleeves tighten around his thick arms. He brings it to the barn, tossing it onto a pile of more hay bales. It lands with that same thump.
When he turns around, it’s in slow motion.
The sleeves of his plaid flannel are rolled up his arms, exposing his large, veiny forearms. Under the flannel, he sports a simple white t-shirt, jeans, and work boots that give him an extra inch of height. His face and chest are shiny with sweat, and his shirt is soaked through. He holds a toothpick between gritted teeth.
It’s Jason. In a cowboy hat.
He takes off his hat and runs a hand through his hair. Its dampness makes it stay slicked back rather than settling into its usual shape where little curls are always falling over his eyes. Then, he sees you. A slow, sly grin spreads across his face. He puts his hat back on and removes the toothpick so he can speak.
“Hey there, little lady,” he drawls lazily, the Gotham accent you’re so accustomed to replaced with a southern twang. It does something to you that you’re a little embarrassed to admit. He looks you up and down, pausing above your knee for a split second before continuing.
“Hi,” you say, averting your gaze from where it had zeroed in on a droplet of sweat running down his neck. Your face burns redder than his beautifully sun-kissed cheeks.
He chuckles. “You jus’ gonna stand there or you gonna lend a hand? Compost ain’t gonna turn itself.”
He easily hauls up another bale, and you follow him into the barn.
You watch as he shirks it onto the pile, then repeats with the remaining few bales. He seems to forget you’re standing there as he gets so absorbed in his work, expression tightening in focus. You lean on the wooden post behind you and soak it in; every sound, every flexed muscle, every display of firm strength has you feeling like the air has been punched out of you. He carries the final bale into the barn and his low grunt as he throws it off his shoulder has a swooning sigh escape you. It catches his attention.
Your chest tightens in embarrassment as he prowls closer. He leans over you, hand against the wooden post right above your head. With him this close, a smattering of freckles is visible over the bridge of his nose, likely due to all the sun exposure. Huffing and sweaty, his eyes drag down your face and stop at your mouth. He swallows hard, and his Adam’s apple bobs up and down.
He lifts his free hand to trace over the thin strap of your top. His fingers ghost over the skin, barely touching. “This is pretty,” he says, voice low. “What’s a pretty girl like you doin’ all the way out here?”
And you just can’t help it anymore. You lurch up to him, desperate to close the space between you. You kiss him hard, and he kisses you back, his hand rising from your shoulder to grip the side of your neck. His thumb brushes your jaw, and your hands grip the material of his flannel, yanking it down to bring him even closer. You pull him against you so roughly that your head bumps the post behind you from the force. He smirks, teasing, into the kiss as his hand comes to cup the back of your head.
“Easy, sweetheart. I ain’t goin’ anywhere.” After getting his fill from your lips, he slowly graces a path to your neck, kissing, licking, and nipping as he goes. His relaxed leisure perfectly juxtaposes your frantic hunger for him.
You grip his face and pull his mouth back to yours, kissing him with even more fervor. You take his bottom lip between your teeth, biting down with little care for gentleness, and tug at the skin. He groans, and it rumbles deep in his throat. You soothe the spot with your tongue, and your eyes roll back into your head at the salty taste of his skin. As his tongue slides between your lips, he removes the hand that’s leaning onto the post and settles it on the skin of your thigh. It drags upward, feeling every inch of skin on his fingertips before disappearing under the hem of your skirt. At the same time, your hands slide down his body. His touch explores higher, and yours slips under his shirt to ground yourself on the hard skin of his abdomen, which has become slick with sweat.
The sound you make is debauched, coming from the deepest recesses of your stomach. He pulls back, wearing a cheeky smile. He opens his mouth to speak and says—
“Wait, what the fuck?”
You jerk awake. Jason is yelling.
“Why would you go with him?” He exclaims at the TV, and then turns to exclaim to you, “Why would she go with him?”
You stare at him, agape, trying to process your surroundings and asking yourself what just happened.
“Shit. Were you asleep?” Jason puts his outrage on hold.
You nod. “Yeah— yes.” Your voice comes out scratchy and hollow. “I was.”
“Sorry, baby. Didn’t mean to wake you up,” he says. His eyebrows furrow. “Are you hot?”
“What?”
“You look warm.” He presses the back of his hand to your flushed neck. “Is it too many blankets?”
Though his hand is cool, you feel even warmer, the image of his hand gripping that same spot of your neck flashing through your mind.
“I’m…good,” you say. “I think I’ll go to bed.” You dig yourself out of the shell of blankets and stand, but he doesn’t follow.
“Oh.” Jason glances at the TV, which is still in a commercial break. “You— did you want me to come?”
You don’t know what to say.
“The, uh…” He runs a hand through his hair, and you have to stifle a gasp. “The guy from her successful city life tracked her down to the small town to get back together. She said yes.” Then he sighs, sounding genuinely distressed. “There’s no way they’d end it like that, right? He was awful to her!”
At this, you crack a smile. “Do you want to finish the movie, Jason?” A hint of satisfaction seeps into your tone.
He clears his throat. “…Maybe.”
You plop back down on the couch with a hum. He interlaces your fingers and kisses the back of your hand before redirecting his attention to the screen.
“Babe?” You ask.
“Hm?” He answers, not looking away from the movie.
“Do you own any flannels?”
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SAVE A HORSE RIDE A COWBOYYYYYYY
love when u leave messages and feedback it feeds my praise kink
for part one: cut to me sitting up in bed shrugging my shoulders over and over again to see which muscles it uses and if that coincides with the injuries i gave him to see if that action causing him pain makes sense (it was inconclusive so i made his injuries vague oopsie)
for part two: the bourne identity (2002) is a movie about a guy named jason who wakes up not knowing where or who he is and somehow has elite training in combat and surveillance, though he doesn't know where it's from. he runs around functioning on pure instinct to survive while getting bits of his memory back, remembering that whoever he worked for was cutthroat, expected him to obey no matter what, and forget the person he used to be before joining their mission. sound familiar?
for part three: cut to me genuinely tweaking while proofreading bc i let my friend read it and so rereading it, knowing that she read it, was so embarrassing. i was screaming into my pillow & it took 20 minutes to get through 2k words bc i had to keep taking breaks. not an exaggeration
If any of you saw me change the theme of my masterlist 5 times yesterday only to change it back to what it was before…no you didn’t
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glamourscat · 1 month ago
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Could you please write Bruce and batboys getting jealous when they meet their crush's ex boyfriend? Her ex is as rich as Bruce, handsome and a total green flag. But they broke up in a friendly term. Upon meeting him they got jealous seeing reader and her ex are still super close. Thank you ❤️
Batboys + Bruce and their jealousy while meeting your ex
Author's Note: I decided to do a mix of a headcanon and a drabble for this one, I think it fits the vibes of the request. i hope you like it :) This is also so damn long but i am a yapper at heart
DICK GRAYSON
I see Dick as a very confident individual. I mean, he is self aware, he is beautiful, rich and overall a good guy. A catch right? (let's ignore the cheating for a moment...)
Though, Dick grew up in a rather unstable situation, to say the least. I see him as a person who craves his s/o attention on him, not necessarely 24/7, but enough to remind him "hey, I am here and I love you"
Still, when he does get jealous ━━ for example in this scenario where you're his crush and he is meeting your ex, who's as equally as handsome as him, not that he would admit to it. Rich as Bruce and a green flag on top of that?━━ damn, he is cooked lol.
His jealousy will probably stem from insecurity. Because, if this guy is rich, beautiful and a green flag too, what does Dick have to offer now? If they are on the same level, or worse, your ex is slightly higher than him ━━ truly, what cards are left for him to play?
And so, I think he would feel insecure for a moment and thats where being overly into PDA comes into place. MORE UNDER THE CUT
"You’re awfully close today. I mean, it’s not like I’m complaining, but… are you sure you're alright, Dick?" you say with a small, soft chuckle as you look at the black-haired guy who just linked his arm with yours.
"Yeah… yeah, of course! Why wouldn’t I be?" he says, offering a smile that’s a bit too tight, a bit too forced for your liking. It’s not like you're a fool; you know exactly what the problem is. You saw the way he reacted when, walking casually through Gotham, you two happened to run into your ex by pure coincidence.
His eye twitched slightly, and his gaze was darting back and forth between you and your ex. You noticed the way his arm tightened around your waist, as if to say, Back off. If you had any doubts about whether he liked you before, now you have your answer.
JASON TODD
When I think of Jay, I imagine a healed version of him. I know people like to imagine him as this broken soul, and I’m not saying he isn’t; he has his fair share of trauma. But I like to think that from coming back as Red Hood to now, the present Jason Todd, he is a changed man.
He’s no longer the insecure, abrasive teen who swore nothing but vengeance and payback for what happened to him. He has accepted what happened; that doesn’t mean he forgot, nor does this mean he forgives Bruce. It just means he has the emotional capacity to be more confident in his own being.
So, how would he react upon meeting his crush’s ex? Well, chances are, if you’re Jason’s crush, you two are friends. He’s good at many things, but flirting, romance, and putting himself out there are not some of those. By being close friends, he is probably already aware of some aspects of your past, including your ex.
Thus, when he meets your ex, he is probably as nonchalant as ever. Does he feel a bit jealous? Maybe. Will those insecurities that have haunted and stained his past try to resurface, making him second-guess himself? Also yes. But he has grown enough to know he’s better than that.
"Jay?" Your voice is soft as feathers as you look at him. His green-blue eyes are focused on browsing the books on the shelves in front of you two, as silence fills the air in the small bookshop where you two had, by chance, met your ex just moments prior.
"Hm?" he hums, not taking his eyes off the books, but keeping an eye on you with his peripheral vision.
"Are you okay? You're awfully quiet. Did I say something wrong, or…?" You trail off, but he cuts you off.
"Nope, nothing's wrong. I'm just looking for a book," he says, moving to the romance section. "You like this?" His voice is quiet, yet it holds a softness to it as he shows you a book he damn well knows is your favorite.
"I mean, yeah. It’s my favorite. Why?" Your tone is slightly confused, just as quiet as his.
He shrugs as he places the book in the small hand basket he’s holding. "Nothing. Just thought I’d buy it. I trust you and your opinion. If you say it’s good, then it is."
He knows that in that moment, not giving in, not allowing those negative emotions to resurface as they did in the past, was the best choice he could’ve made if it meant seeing your smile—so timid yet flustered—with those rosy cheeks of yours, as you try to hide your giddiness from his words.
TIM DRAKE
Ah, my favorite little gremlin. The issue I have with Tim is not with Tim himself, but with the fandom that constantly mischaracterizes him.
I’m not even going to get into the coffee addict recurring joke, but I want to focus on one thing. "Precious bean Tim". This guy is absolutely unhinged. Dick, Jason, and Damian all had their moments, but Tim? His whole being is centered around being a sarcastic, witty little shit who does the most unhinged things, and somehow, people always give him a pass. (I mean... do we need to talk about his red robin run? Or when he was dating two people at once? Or when it's canon that at first impression people feel judged by him?)
My point is, Tim is literally out of his mind lol. He struggles a lot with his emotions, we see this in his Red Robin run, how obsessive he became over the idea of finding Bruce, someone he cares for. He was spiraling bad.
His jealousy manifests in possessiveness. Mine, mine, mine. Let's not forget that Tim lost his mother, watched his father die too. He is messed up emotionally, because everything that was his has always been taken from him one way or another. First his parents, then robin mantle by Damian and even his best friend (or lover) Kon at somepoint.
"You're pouting."
"No, I am not." He says, while comically enough, pouting more. It had been about 30 minutes, give or take, since you two came back from the movie theatre. Where you and Tim had to sit through an almost 2 hours long movie with your ex as the main lead.
Was he pissed? no, no, no... why would he be? Absolutely no. Him? Tim Drake? Jealous? Pff. Definitely wasn't. And yet, he kept pressing each key of his keyboard so hard, as he typed, that you feared it might come flying at his face very soon.
"If you're jealous you can just say so you know." You say with a half amused grin. If he wanted to act like a brat, might as well enjoy it. "I mean, who wouldn't be right? My ex is after all, rich, handsome, a great ac-" your words are cut off as his face he is pretty much pressed against yours.
When the hell did he come on the bed? He was sitting at his desk just a moment ago...
"Shut up" he scoffs as his cold nose nudges yours, his hand goes to the back of your head pulling you in for a kiss. and what a kiss. His lips, slightly chapped and cold, meet yours with such ferocity you're left stunned. His body has yours pressed on his bed, as he straddles your lap. Your tongues meet as he lets out a quiet little moan as your hands go in his soft raven hair.
"fuck- i am sorry" he pants gulping, cheeks red and eyes wide, as he pulls back after a few moments in a panic. what the fuck had he just done?
"You shut up now." you say with a little grin, equally as breathless as him, as you bring back your lips against his. Losing each other in a kiss that would be just the beginning of a beautiful imperfect thing.
BRUCE WAYNE
Now, Bruce was hard to crack, for me at least. Because, I think depending on the person, the situation and how he is feeling at the current moment, he can be like any of his sons.
His jealousy is not driven by insecurity or possessiveness in the conventional sense, like Dick’s or Tim's would. Not necesseraily.
I mean, we are talking about a man with his fair share of lovers
I think his jealousy would stem from his deep emotional connections and the high stakes involved in his relationships. Sure, Tim, Dick and Jason are all vigilantes too, but Bruce is the Batman. he cannot afford, he does not have the luxury, of dating who he wants just because. It's either flings or a deep emotional connection with him.
We see him getting jealous with Selina, for example, when he feels his emotional connection getting threatened by other men she is flirting with. His jealousy is so damn complex and subtle and sometimes it shows up as in actions and decision making rather than extensive show off of jealousy.
That's why I think if he has a crush on a woman (or man), his attidute will depend on the situation they find themselves in. He might become overall more vigilant, assertive or distant base on how the event will play out.
© GLAMOURSCAT (all rights reserved. do not share, modify, translate and re-upload my work outside of tumblr)
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angelltheninth · 27 days ago
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Can you please write Bruce Wayne, Dick and Jason reacting to their fem s/o holding them tenderly and telling them everything is going to be alright? Even heroes need to be told that, too
They need so much comfort for real.
Pairing: Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd x Fem!Reader
Tags: fluff, hurt/comfort, cuddles, late night talks, post-patrol, injuries, being tired, trouble sleeping
Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters
A/N: If they're out on a mission I will be waiting with open arms and a cup of hot cocoa to tell them they did such a good job.
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Bruce has always been emotionally guard and some would even say emotionally constipated since the moment you've met him. It's not uncommon for you to have to claw his feelings out of him because he doesn't think it's important for you to be bothered with them. But you see all of that bottle up, along with his exhaustion and lack of rest. He often sneaks out of bed to go to work early but this time you don't let him, not before you hold him against your chest and while he listens to your heartbeat assure him that he doesn't have to constantly push himself to the breaking point, he can rely on others, on you. The world won't suddenly fall apart because he let someone into his heart, it's gonna be okay if he let you help him from time to time.
Dick doesn't like to admit when he has trouble sleeping, he would rather hold you and stay awake then wake you up and talk your ear off. As the first, and oldest sibling he feels a lot of responsibly on his shoulders to protect others and for others to be able to rely on him. And that goes the same for him as a boyfriend, perhaps a bit more even since he finally managed to find the woman of his dreams and sometimes it feels like one mistake can tear you apart. When he had a particularly rough night, coming home with bruises and cracked ribs you stay up instead, making sure he's okay. It gives you the chance to talk things out with him and help him see that he, his family, and you are happy to have him around, no matter what.
Jason enjoys going on patrol with you, you're his favorite partner, his favorite girl, and damn it really does something to him when he sees you kicking ass like you do. That being said as your boyfriend there's a certain degree of protectiveness that he feels towards you and has put himself in harms way to save you before, something that you've always had an issue with but he doesn't see it. It has led to a few arguments in the past which always ended with you kissing each other senseless to patch things up. Not this time though, this time you stop his kiss and instead want to have a firm talk with him about his self-worth and how he will always be enough for you, nothing will ever change the fact that you love him, as long as he stays alive.
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porcalinecunt · 3 months ago
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Hear me out: Jason todd with a pathetic fem criminal/thief he loves to play with involving gunplay
- heart anon ❤
𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘!
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🪽ᯓᡣ𐭩 you couldn’t be a decent criminal for shit, so much so, the red hood himself has rather ulterior motives . . .
⋆˚࿔ FEATURING . . 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ JASON TODD X FEM! READER
° ᡣ𐭩 . ° . cw — rough sex, semi public, slight gunplay, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, breeding, jason being a bully :<
[・:。author’s note ! 「 ✉️ 」・𓂃 ࣪˖ i kinda hate this lol, sorry if my writing falls off towards the end. i haven’t touched this draft in MONTHS [sobs]
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“i-i won’t hesitate!”
“yeah..threatening the guy with the ak-47..”
he scoffs, barely clutching onto the military grade weapon as if he knows you’d miss every last one of your shots from the tiny pistol you held. your shakey hands were already such a dead giveaway.
petite, timid and easy to snap in two. that’s enough to have the red hood himself laughing at your pathetic attempts to intimidate him. he almost wondered how Black Mask’s goons allowed you through just to grab a nice stash of hard drugs, most likely to sell for a ridiculous price.
“look little girl, put the pistol down and i’ll make it easier for ya. don’t gotta act all tough on me..” the barrel of the rifle faced the floor, clearly he doesn’t wish to waste a bullet on your airheaded self.
there’s my chance! you thought to yourself, rushing past the vigilante and booking it to the stairwell. a grin stretched your lips, how easy was that? and he’s meant to be the best!
as if red hood heard your thoughts, the larger figure dropped down from the ceiling right in front of you with an ear shattering thud! stopping dead in your tracks, you threw a hasty punch that was easily blocked before red hood yanked you by the wrist and threw you onto the wall next to you. not even a second went by before you felt his build press against your smaller figure. trapped.
“h-hey! let me go you prick!” you whined and pouted, trying to push your way out with no success. he didn’t even feel like another man, more like a wall.
amidst the struggle, you heard a small chuckle before the red hood succumbed to laughter. he was fucking laughing, at you. angry, you weakly elbowed him in the rib which did next to nothing. it only earned you another wheeze and chuckles from the hooded bastard.
“awe, what’s the matter? can’t fight back? is this your first crime girl?”
you looked back with an angry pout, his white eyes that were basically holes in that bulky helmet of his narrowed in amusement. an expression that admittedly, gave you a case of butterflies. the way he taunted you, laughed at you, even looked at you. fuck, you wondered if he was seeing anyone outside of fighting crime.
your facial expression must’ve shifted, as the masked vigilante tilted his head. “got something to say to me, little girl?”
his eyes widened a little after saying that, probably because of the way you began to press against his own body. whether you knew it or not, you’re practically arching, pressing your ass against his crotch. it really didn’t help that you were wearing a tight one piece that showed off every curve and shape of your figure.
it didn’t take long before red hood picked up on your intentional eye fucking, backing up to allow enough space for him to grab your hips and roam around your body. the red hood was a greedy one, grabbing and squeezing every bit of flesh he felt on you until he finally found your breasts. his hand alone covered the whole thing, that’s how huge he was. a sudden and rather harsh squeeze made you jump.
"don't be rough!" you whined as the crime lord gently massaged the sore flesh, only to give it another squeeze and forcing a yelp out of your throat. "you're mean..!"
"awe, am i? thought you were a big girl with that prissy attitude and the gaul to act all tough with me.." jason cooed in a mocking tone. even through the material of your bodysuit, you could feel him growing harder and harder against your ass. your stomach was in knots from the sheer length of this man, yet you never fessed up as his fingers found the zipper hidden in the fabric. . . .
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you couldn't make a noise, not with jason's huge palm over your slobbering mouth while his cock pistons in and out of your ruined cunt. two orgasms ripped out of you yet he refuses to stop for even a breath, or to take off that stupid helmet.
"c'mon..i know you got another in ya." he grunted, smacking your left thigh which was covered in hand prints from the earlier rounds. you weren't wrong when you called him mean earlier, the way he discarded your bodysuit to him throwing you against different surfaces like a ragdoll. now, he has you over the stair railing while he brutally fucks you from behind.
your knees buckled from the pressure as you clung onto the dirty railing for dear life, the skin on your ass a bright red from his hips slamming against it. you turned your head slightly to meet those white eyes that bore themselves into your brain, how you wish he just took it off to see who's actually fucking you mid failed heist. stupidly, you reached out behind to try and pry even a little, only for a gun cocking to startle you frozen.
"fuck you think you're doing? thought you were slick huh.."
a breathy chuckle followed, as you heard the subtle clicks of the gun inching closer and closer to your ear until the barrel was pressed right below your jaw. you didn’t know if it was fear or arousal, but nonetheless, the next thing you knew was your stuffed cunt clenching around jason’s girth like a vice.
“ohh..you like this, do you?” he started, caressing the gun against your bruised skin. the cold outer was a sharp yet welcoming contrast to the hot air that suffocated you beneath his weight. you mewled in response, practically strangling his cock the harder you clenched.
the vigilante picked up his pace, groaning in your ear as he pointed the firearm below your jaw as if you were a hostage. a strangled moan echoed throughout the stairs and your knees buckled, prompting jason to wrap an arm around your waist.
“m’gonna..m’gonna cum..please..” you sighed, screwing your eyes shut as the knot in your stomach grew tighter and tighter.
“cum f’me girl…don’t fuck this up too..” jason chuckled from the mean jab as his dick twitched against your cervix. before you could respond to his passive aggressive remark, you’re vision went white as a sudden wave of heat filled your ruined pussy. your vision blurred as jason fucked his cum deep into your cunt, not allowing a drop to slip out.
“atta girl..maybe you aren’t as stupid as i thought..”
jason tapped the gun against your thigh as he continues to move his hips against yours, not caring about the fact you could barley hold on at this point.
another round wouldn’t hurt, especially with the antics you’ve pulled today.
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© porcalinecunt 🪽ᯓᡣ𐭩ྀི do not steal, translate, or use my work and claim as your own.
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