#jason todd domesticity

[aldryrththerainbowheart]

Jason Todd loves to travel to cozy forest cabin getaways with you

🍂 Especially in the middle of autumn/one the cusp of winter. A little strange, considering people usually prefer spring, summer or at least warmer months of autumn. You asked him about it once, he said it's the calmness of the forest that's preparing for winter.

Like everything's falling asleep. Calm, quiet, undisturbed by anything.

🍂 You have one place surrounded by mountains that you book year in advance and visit every year for a week. It's a long wooden hut made of layered logs with stone fireplace and terrace window overlooking nature. Nestled on the high slope right under the mountain, it offers a beautiful view of valley with river curling like a snake through the slopes and acres upon acres of ancient pine trees.

🍂 He makes sure you're stocked with everything you need. Even the things you don't need but he bought them because he knew you liked them. Your favorite coffee, dried fruits and nuts, his favorite beef jerky, soup cans, store bought dough for pizza, fresh buns and cinnamon buns, eggs for morning omelettes, pumkin spice and ingredients for simmer pot (you taught him to drink that pretty quickly).

🍂 It's that calm quiet routine he falls into wih you there that he loves the most. You wake up late, burried under the patterned blankets, to a cold autumn morning with golden-brown leaves falling behind your window. He doesn't want to let you go until you bribe him with fresh coffee. It another half an hour before you get out of bed, either talking or reading your respective books you brought with you. Then and only then, you get out of bed. Usually one makes breakfeast while other gets ready or sits at the dining table. You rarely use that table, usually taking the food either outside on the terrace, the couch or bed.

🍂 Your days are filled with hiking and walks through the wilderness. Each morning greets you with the soft light of dawn as you lace up your hiking boots, ready to explore the outdoors. The air is fresh and crisp, filled with the earthy scents of pine and wildflowers.

As you venture deeper into the wild, you find yourself surrounded by towering trees that sway gently in the breeze. You might encounter babbling brooks that meander through the landscape, their crystal-clear waters shimmering in the sunlight. With every step, you are greeted by the symphony of nature—the cheerful chirping of birds, the rustle of small creatures in the underbrush, and the distant sounds of nature that fill the air with tranquility.

Each hike offers its own unique adventure: sometimes you climb to breathtaking vistas that reveal sprawling valleys below, while other times, you wander through serene glades where wild animals may cross your path. You take the time to pause and appreciate the beauty around you, capturing moments with photographs or simply soaking in the sights and sounds.

In the evenings, as the sun sets and casts a warm glow across the horizon, you reflect on the day’s explorations, feeling a deep sense of gratitude for the connection you have with nature. Whether trekking through rugged mountain terrain or strolling along peaceful forest paths.

🍂 Unlike eating times, your walks are usually filled with peacefull silence, disturbed only by the sounds of rustling leaves, crunching of branches under your feet or animals. Speak of which, you were pretty nervous when you encountered bear or moose, but Jason assured you that as long as you don't bother them, they won't bother you. You didn't know that wolves are so much bigger that a dog until a pack of them was chilling early in the morning around your cabin.

🍂 You make sure to bring your beaten-down old camera on these trips. Because some of these breathtaking sights cannot be captured by a phone. You have tons of them with beautiful sighs of nature, that one time you decided to go up the mountain slope, and the little fox family you stumbled upon. There's also plenty of pictures of Jason, sometimes taken without his knowledge. It's a rare sight when you manage to see that expression of pure serenity on his face, let alone capture it on the camera. There's one you cherish the most. It was taken when you climbed up the hill to a clearing. The sunlight is still peeking over the mountains and is shining directly on his back. He looks to the side and light illuminates his face perfectly, tracing the lines of his face in light and shadow. Dark strands peek from underneath his beanie and his neck is buriend in the scarf you made him. A fog is rising from his lips and one green eye is cast in sunlight. In the background, a blurried out expanse of forest and mountaintops. A copy of this photo made its way to the Wayne manor.

🍂 In the evenings, you cook dinner together and then either play boardgames or, you guessed it, read some more. Jason always looks forward to cooking dinner with you. You blast music for your portable radio, you mess with each other by throwing bits of food and argue what toppings should or should not go on a pizza. You test out what board games would stand the trial on the game nights with his family and you always end with cards against humanity. Your always at disadvantage when playing Black Stories. It's not your fault you're not detective like someone.

🍂 Out of all activities, your absolute favorite undoubtedly has to be stargazing with Jason. There’s something truly magical about those nights spent together, standing under the open sky, clean of the polution of Gotham city.

In those quiet moments, as you both gaze up at the milions of twinkling lights, you feel a deep sense of peace and connection. The cool night air envelops you, and every sigh, every laugh, and every shared dream feels amplified against the backdrop of shimmering constellations. With Jason by your side, it’s not just about the beauty of the night's sky; it's about the warmth of his presence, the quiet conversations that stretch into the night, and the comfort of knowing that you’re sharing these moments with the person you love most. The stars don’t just fill the sky; they light up your hearts, creating a memories that feels timeless and everlasting.

[julymusings]

simplicity

out there they're afraid even of the killer's shadow, and here i reside in his heartbeat like a home

or; the big bad red hood has a soft spot only for you [3.4k]

jason todd x fem!reader; tiny bit of angst but mostly fluff; aggressive unwanted advances, implied roofie attempt, violence & blood, slut-shaming; Jason “my girl can wear whatever she wants I can fight” Todd; in da clerb, we all fam ⎯ based on this !

A humid, crowded, upscale club isn’t the most ideal way to spend your Friday night, and Jason knows this. Frankly, it’s not his either, but as the owner of the humid, crowded, upscale club, he had to make some appearances as his own business.

“It’s a night out,” he had said. “Let’s make the most of it.”

If you’re being honest, it’s also not the worst way to spend your Friday night. Not when Jason dressed up so deliciously, in a fitted t-shirt, jeans, and his leather jacket. Not when he took you to a booth in the corner of the club and had them bring over your favorite drinks and snacks with the order to keep them coming. Not when you got to wear that cute little black dress that’s been hanging in your closet for months with your favorite strappy heels, the ones with ribbons that wrapped around your ankle and tied into a bow in the back. Not when Jason sat you on his lap and settled a large hand on your thigh, where it stayed the whole night.

All in all, you would say you’re making the most of it. 

You’re sipping on your drink, chatting about something or the other with your boyfriend. He’s half listening, half drawing circles on your thigh and pressing kisses to your shoulder when one of the employees finds you. She’s freaking out because one of the performers hasn’t shown up, and there’s no one else to go in her place.

Jason huffs. He lifts you off his lap and sets you down on the seat. “I’m sorry, baby, I just gotta take care of this. I’ll be right back.”

“It’s okay. I’ll be here.” You smile over the rim of your glass.

He looks around for a moment, then gestures to someone across the room. One of the bouncers make their way to you.

“Just keep an eye out,” he tells him. “I don’t trust these entitled country club fuckers.”

He gives a curt nod. Jason leans in close, smirking, and says, “especially not when you look like that,” and gives you a quick kiss before disappearing into the crowd with the employee.

A couple minutes later, a crash snaps your attention towards the bar. A young, college-aged looking man is berating a waitress while a mess of shot glasses litter the floor around them. The waitress looks about to cry.

“Jesus Christ,” the bouncer says to himself. Then to you, “Gimme a second.”

You move to the edge of the booth to watch as he goes over and tries to pacify the man, but that only seems to make him angrier. He shoves the bouncer, yelling about “shitty customer service.” 

You don’t get to see what happens next, though, because your field of vision is obscured by an enormous, very shiny, and very douchey silver belt buckle. You look up for its owner, and a greasy-looking, white-haired man looks down at you. 

“Hey there, sweetheart.” A fake gold tooth catches the flashing lights and it glints in your eye. Uninvited, he slides into the booth across from you. He places a drink on the table, sliding it towards you. “You look thirsty. Got this for you.”

“No, thanks. I’ve got one.” You hold your own glass up.

He rolls his eyes. “Pretty thing like you should be takin’ advantage of all the free drinks you could be gettin’.” His smile sends a chill down your spine.

“Again, I’m fine,” you say, a little harsher. “My boyfriend has brought me plenty of drinks already.”

He laughs. It’s a high-pitched, scratchy, wheezing sound. Like a kazoo. “I don’t see this boyfriend of yours anywhere. He should know better than to leave you alone. I’d treat you much better than him.” His eyes travel down your neck and stay there. You stand from the booth and take a big step back. It’s not entirely personal; no matter how much of a threat he may be, Jason is a worse one. And if he’s still in this neighborhood, never mind this building, you fear for this man’s safety much more than your own. But the man follows, bringing the cup with him. “Come on, honey, it’s a compliment. Show a little thanks. I don’t bite.”

You don’t have to be the world’s finest detective to know that is most definitely a lie. Or to know to avoid that cup at all costs.

You could just rebuff him, walk away. But you’re willing to bet he’d just move on to the next woman. One who’s probably a little less sober, and a little less aware of her surroundings. You feign a stumble and knock the drink out of his grip. It tips toward him, drenching him with its contents. He chokes out a shocked gasp.

“Oops,” you deadpan, not at all trying to hide your indifference.

“You bitch,” he snarls. He lunges forward, snatching your wrist. You try to pull it back, but his grip is iron and bruising. “I was doing you a favor. Do you see anyone else here looking at you?”

You’re suddenly grateful you didn’t put up much of a fight after Jason came home from patrolling one night insisting he show you some self-defense moves. Far be it from you to cause a scene, but this guy isn’t giving you much choice. You employ the cardinal rule of women’s self-defense: go for the crotch. You shift your weight to your non-dominant side and launch your dominant knee right into his groin. The sharp metal edge of his belt buckle slices the skin just above your knee, but it shocks him enough to release your wrist and double over. The same leg used in your attack plants itself on the ground, and you use the momentum to pistol your opposite fist forward. It collides with his nose in a bone-cracking cross. Your stacks of studded rings didn’t do him any favors, either. He cries out in pain. His hands fly up to cover his nose, and the cup falls from his grasp and shatters on the floor, garnering the attention of some surrounding patrons. Blood seeps between his fingers.

“You’re gonna fucking pay for that.” His tone drips with poison. He reaches into his coat pocket and brandishes a switchblade (because of course. You’re not surprised, though. It is Gotham). You look around in a panic, hoping to find Jason towering somewhere over the crowd. He’s not there. A few guys who work for him, though, have since taken notice of the commotion and are making their way towards you. You know they won’t make it in time. You weren’t scared a moment ago, but you definitely are now. Jason only briefly covered disarming techniques, and you didn’t have his practice to stay calm in situations like these. He steps closer, shoes crunching over the glass shards, and you step back. You’re backed into a corner, literally. Your back is pressed against the table. His eyes are glassy and void of color.

There is a resounding pop when the man’s knife-wielding hand is yanked to the side. Too fast for your brain to register, he thuds against the table next to you and the knife clatters to the ground. You look over and see Jason, one hand pressing his face into the table and the other twisting the man’s arm behind his back. 

When his men finally reach you, Jason is seething. They look almost as afraid as the man, whose whimpers are muffled the pressure with which he’s flattened against the table.

“Who the fuck let this happen,” Jason glowers. Uncomfortable glances are shared between the men, all sharing the same sentiment; we fucked up big time.

Jason’s livid gaze flits back and forth among them. His veins flex against his forearms, rippling with effort. It looks like he’s putting all his strength into incapacitating the man, but you know better. He’s putting all his strength into restraint. The look on his face is cold and steely, with hardened, venom-green eyes and a clenched jaw. This isn’t Jason, the sweet boyfriend, or Jason the easy-going yet respected club proprietor. This is Jason the crime lord. Jason the anti-hero. This is the Red Hood. Who makes his own rules and kills anyone who breaks them. It’s a bit off-putting for you to see him like this; he’s never like this with you. He’s always just…Jason. Your Jason.

One of his men speaks up. “We’re sorry, Boss, we were keepin’ an eye like you asked, but there was trouble up at the bar.”

Jason scowls. “Trouble that required all of you?”

At their silence, he rolls his eyes. “Idiots,” he says under his breath. He jerks the man up to stand, the hand that was pressing him to the table now gripping the back of his shirt collar. “Someone take care of this.” He shoves the man in their direction. Hard. One of them catches him. “And for fuck’s sake, check him for anything else.” 

While they’re busy patting him down, Jason turns back to you. You get whiplash from how quick his demeanor changes. Though still tense, the rigidity of his expression is long gone, replaced with tender concern.

“Are you okay?” His wide eyes scan you up and down, searching for any signs of injury. You manage a nod, still a bit stunned by his apparent shape-shifting abilities. “I’m so sorry, honey, this is my fault. It’s my fault for leaving you alone.” He pulls you close for a hug and kisses the top of your head, murmuring further apologies into your hair.

You pull back and cup his face in your hands. “It’s okay, Jay, I’m fine. I promise.” You lean in to kiss him, and feel his shoulders relax.

“Jesus, man, sorry! Wouldn’t’a come on so strong if I knew she was your whore. How much did ‘ya pay for her, anyway?” His voice rings from behind. Jason tenses up again. When he pulls back from you, he’s gone. He’s like Jekyll-turned-Hyde when the combatant that lay dormant inside him reassumes his body.

He turns around, but his large frame shields you from seeing the scene unfold. You place a hand on his arm, a silent message of support, and you can feel him vibrating with anger. His hand comes to rest over yours and give a reassuring squeeze.

“You know what?” You can’t be sure who he’s speaking to, but you can hear the eerie smile in his tone. “I’ll take care of this.” He faces you. “Can you give me a minute? Is that okay?” His voice is calm.

You know he would stay if you asked him to. And you never would, but you know he would go outside and kill that guy if you asked him to. And maybe you’re feeling a tad vindictive after the whole ordeal, so you just say, “Okay.”

He kisses your forehead, squeezing your hand once more. “I’ll come find you,” he says, stepping away, and you nod.

“Ross,” he commands. “Take her to the office. Get her whatever she wants.” Jason then speaks to all of his men. His tone drips with disdain. “Tomorrow we’ll talk about who’s getting fired for this.” You catch some of his men flinch.

He grabs the man by the collar once again and stalks towards the exit, dragging him along.

You’ve met Ross once or twice, though never exchanged more than a few words. He smiles at you. It’s amiable, if not slightly nervous. You know where the office is, but you’re still grateful for the guide. The mesh of moving bodies under dim lights makes all four corners of the room look the same. With the adrenaline wearing off, your hands ache and you become acutely aware of the stinging shock that shoots up your knee when you walk on it but, persevering, you follow him to the back. He holds the door that reads ‘RESTRICTED - DO NOT ENTER’ open for you, and you smile in thanks.

Various employees, servers and performers alike, mill about in the back hallways. You know some of them, having met in passing during other visits to the club, and offer polite greetings as you walk by. When you arrive at Jason’s office, Ross unlocks the door for you and you step inside.

It’s a nice office, noticeably homier than it was when you and Jason met. The first time he brought you back here it was just a desk, a chair, and a filing cabinet. You perched yourself on his desk while he sat in his chair and you teased him for not having a place for guests to sit, saying something about ‘men and their awful interior designing skills.’

“It’s not ‘bad skills,’ it’s cost-effective. ‘M runnin’ a business here, baby. If you need a place to sit that badly, you can sit right here.” He joked, patting his lap. And he said it with such conviction you believed him, but the next time you visited there was a brand new, plushy suede couch pushed against the wall.

You find a seat on said couch and try to get comfortable despite your protesting joints. From here you can spot a framed photo on Jason’s desk; the two of you smiling while bathing a shelter dog at the Wayne Animal Sanctuary. But while you smile at the camera, his gaze is trained on you.

 Ross stands in the doorway, stoic as a bodyguard should be. “Do you need anything?” He asks you.

“No, I’m okay. Thank you, though.”

“‘Course. I’ll be outside. Just yell if you need anything.” He moves to exit, but pauses. “Look,” he says, “We’re all really sorry about what happened. It was our fault. You have every right to hate us.” He chuckles self-deprecatingly. “God knows the boss does.”

You purse your lips, unsure how to respond. Technically Jason did instruct them not to leave you alone. But really, the only person at fault is that horrible man, and he was currently getting what he deserved.

“It’s okay, Ross,” you say, and you mean it. “I don’t blame you. And Jason’s not gonna fire any of you, okay? I won’t let him.”

He exhales. “Okay, you—yeah. Okay. Thanks.” He loiters awkwardly in the doorway for a moment. “Listen, Todd’s always been a great boss. But it’s no joke when it comes to you. Don’t know exactly what happened, but after meeting you, he’s just…different. Not sure if I believe it, but after the first time you were here, one of the bartenders swears they heard him whistling. Anyway, just mean to say…we’re glad he has you.”

His sincerity warms your heart. You thank him, and he assumes his post outside, closing the door. 

At last in decent lighting, you take the time to examine yourself. Your knee, knuckles, and wrist are splotchy with bruises. A small scrape rests just above your knee from you were scratched. There’s a splattering of blood on your knuckles and on the rings you’re wearing. You grimace, the reality of what just happened settling in. Someone pulled a knife on you. If Jason hadn’t been there…the thought leaves you cold.

There’s voices on the other side of the door, then receding footsteps. After a few seconds, a knock.

“Baby? Can I come in?”

“Yes,” you call out. Jason enters, locking the door behind him. There’s some smatterings of blood on his hands and face, and he’s holding a first aid kit. Your immediate instinct is that he’s the one who needs first aid.

“Are you okay?” You ask as he kneels on the floor in front of you. “Did he hurt you?”

Jason tilts his head like a confused puppy, eyebrow raised. Just like that, The Red Hood is gone. He’s Jason again. He speaks softly, with a hint of his usual boyish charm. “Should I be insulted by you asking me that?” He picks up your un-injured leg and places the foot on his thigh, beginning to unravel the ribbon wrapped around your ankle. He removes the shoe and places it to the side, then repeats with your other foot. But when he moves it, your knee twitches and you wince. He frowns, but doesn’t say anything. He sees the way your eyes travel between all the spots of blood. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, none of it’s mine.”

You sigh in relief. “You didn’t…kill him, did you?”

He chuckles, lightly massaging your foot. “Nah…did you want me to? ‘Cause I can still—”

“No.”

He smirks at you, before leaning down to press a kiss to your bruised knee. It’s so gentle, so loving, it completely contradicts the bloodstains that adorn him. As his hands move up to your calf, your hand moves to his hair, fingers threading through the white streaks and pushing them back so you can get a better view of his eyes. They’re a silky teal, bordering on sea green. They remind you of lake trips in the summer, and ice skating during the holidays.

“How bad is he? Like, on scale of ‘he can walk it off’ to ‘he needs to go to the hospital.’”

Jason pauses his movements, looking thoughtful for a moment.

“He…he’s walking himself to the hospital.”

There’s not much you can say to that. After all, you gave him to okay to go fuck that guy up.

From the first aid kit, he retrieves a box of Band-Aids. They’re the children’s ones, decorated with cartoons and various characters. A specific one catches your eye, and you pick it out of the carton.

“Robin? Really?”

Jason breathes out a small laugh. “One of my guys’ daughter loves him.” He unwraps the bandage and sticks it over the scratch. You admire the small red plaster. Jason traces a finger over the emblem in the center, a black and yellow ‘R’.

He moves from your leg to your hand, gingerly laying it in his palm. One by one he slides each of your rings off. They’re not particularly special, but you still like them and you try to protest when he tosses them in the trash. He’s quick to assuage you with promises to buy you new ones with, hopefully, less blood.

"Did you see how good I got him?" You suddenly feel shy asking such a question. Like a child seeking validation.

"I did see," Jason says. And there's not a hint of condescension in his tone. "I'm proud of you. You remembered what I taught you."

You beam under his pride.

He uses a sanitizing wipe to remove the droplets of blood from your knuckles, kissing each one along the way. He reaches your wrist last. There’s a purple hand-shaped mark that wraps around it, and he stares at it. You can see his thoughts race at sixty miles an hour, and you know he’s beating himself up about it.

“Hey.” The hand in his hair moves to stroke his cheek. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault. I promise. I love you.”

He leans forward to press his forehead to your wrist. “I’m sorry,” he breathes. “I’m sorry.” He places gentle kisses on the purple skin. “I’m sorry. I love you.” He moves to the scratch above your knee, pressing more kisses, repeating the words like a prayer. Your hand is still enclosed in his hands, and his cool fingers soothe the throbbing swell. You pull his head up, holding his chin in your fingertips. His eyes close as he soaks in your warm touch.

You reach for another wipe and begin wiping the blood from his face. Some of it has dried, so you press the wipe a little harder, and blood rushes to his cheeks to give him an adorable flush. You repeat the process on his hands. Blood erased and wipes discarded, you pull him up to the couch to lie down with you. He stretches out, so large that his feet hang over the armrest. You snuggle up to his side and your head rests on his shoulder. He wraps his arms around you and kisses the top of your head. It’s surreal, how utterly soft he is, and just for you. How no one else gets to see him like this. He goes out at night, a fighter, crusader, a deadly threat. And then he comes home to sleep in your arms. In your bed.

You place your hand against his chest, right over his heart to feel it thrum beneath your palm. It beats simple and steady, and just for you.

am i the only one who likes the whole jason owning the iceberg lounge storyline (aside from the whole penguin prisoner thing but i only write according to canon that i like and leave out the things i don't! whoops🤷‍♀️);

the feminine urge to write more fics that take place within the universe of this one...

divider is from here

[secretidentie]

Bruce "it's not a phase" Wayne.

Dick "I can tell when it's lowercase" Grayson.

Jason "you can't die more than me" Todd.

Tim "I didn't need that organ anyway" Drake.

Damian "clones don't count as blood sons" Wayne.

[freakingholland]

“The way to a gal’s heart is through her stomach.” - Jason Todd x fem!reader

A/N: Beep boop another Jason imagine, enjoy cuties <3

Warnings: not proofread, slightly suggestive content, swear words

Summary: Jason Todd is not only a superhero, he’s also a master of tomato soups. (fluff, domestic theme, slightly suggestive content)

Word count: 850 +

If you enjoyed my work: Ko-fi.com/freakingholland

questions/requests/ideas here! - rules here

masterlist (needs a proper update)

my wattpad archive is here

my AO3 archive is here

-

“NOOO, no no no I GOT THIS, SIT DOWN MA’AM” Jay said, waving his hands dramatically as if he was trying to shoo you away from the kitchen.

“Don’t raise your voice at me fucker!” you said snorting with laughter.

“Yes, ma’am BUT SIT DOWN PLEASE-- I GOT THIS LOVE!” Jay tilted his head and waited for your reaction giving you an innocent look.

“PLEASE! I GOT THIS!”

“Okay! Okay I will…” you said with your hands up, slowly turning away from your boyfriend. You were standing in the kitchen. You just got back home from work and were about to start making dinner for the both of you. However, Jason had other plans and was making sure that you wouldn’t lift your finger.

“Soooo, what do we have on the menu chef Todd?” Jason smirked as he saw you folding your arms over your chest and leaning against the counter. He reached for an apron that was hanging near the stove.

His triceps rounded as he moved his hands behind his back to tie it on himself. They were pretty tightly squeezed by a short sleeve of his t-shirt. You were wondering whether he was purposefully flexing just to make you feel a certain way.

“I was thinking of a baked tomato soup. But-- I shall gladly fulfill my significant other’s…” he prolonged.

“-dining desires…as­-- it’s my personal wish to suffice her stomach.” His words made you shake your head with a growing smile. God. This guy’s eloquence is truly admirable. So is his charm. And his warmth despite the hardships that life had thrown at him.

“Sounds good.”

“You sure?”

“Yep.”

“Sweet. Tomato soup it is.”

“How was work?” he continued.

“Could have been better honestly.  Collins had a problem again and decided to throw a fit at the end of the shift. Called in a meeting last minute just to scream his ass of for 20 minutes-- AS IF we could change anything.”

“Monica was late to pick up her son from preschool because of the asshole.” You continued your rant.

“Yeah, Collins has a knack for ruining everyone’s day,” Jay said, shaking his head as he rinsed his hands.

“It’s like the guy feeds off stress.”

“Exactly! And the worst part is, it’s not just me. Everyone’s been feeling it. EVEN Monica, who’s usually so calm, was on the verge of tears today. It’s just not fair.”

“Did she call you?” He asked.

“She texted me when I was entering our building.”

He shook his head no sympathizing with your work story.

“Ugh, I hate that for her. And for you,” Jay said, turning to face you. “You don’t deserve to deal with that crap every day.”

“Thanks,” you replied with a tired smile. “It’s just frustrating. I mean, we’re all trying our best, but Collins seems to think yelling at us is some sort of solution.”

“Man, I don’t know what to say… asshole’s pissing me off.” He licked his lips.

“And how is Jared doing?” Jay continued wanting to change the topic.

“He’s alright as far as I know.” You bit your lower lip.

“You know what? I actually thought about inviting them for dinner some time.” You said shyly.

Jay, still focused on the cutting board, looked up, noticing the slight hesitation in your tone.

“Why are you shying away like that?” he asked, with curiosity and concern in his voice as he turned to face you, pausing his chopping.

“Well, I wanna know-- if you’d have the energy and will to have guests over on your night off…?”

Jay walked over to the sink to wash his hands. He stepped away from the counters to kiss the top of your head as you were mentally supporting him in his cooking, watching from the tall bar stool.

“We can totally think about it, don’t worry about my energy.”

“I—Well I-- just didn’t want to overwhelm you--, you know? I know how hard you’ve been working lately, and I didn’t want to add more to your plate.”

Jay smiled, his eyes full of that familiar warmth that always made you feel at ease.

“I get it, and I really appreciate you looking out for me like that.”

“But honestly-- having them over might be just what we need. A break from the usual, a chance to relax, catch up with some good friends, and just enjoy each other’s company. It could be a lot of fun.” He continued.

„Plus, it would be a great opportunity to show off my cooking skills.” He said with a cheeky smile plastered across his face.

“Yeeeaah right…”

“Yeah right what?” Jay looked over his shoulder, pretending to be offended.

“’Kay hear me out-- how about we make a deal? If I can whip up the best tomato soup you’ve ever had, you have to admit I’m the better cook.”

“And if it’s-- just, okay?” you teased, biting your lower lip playfully. Jay leaned in closer, his voice deepened.

“Then maybe I’ll have to find another way to prove I’m the best at… handling things.”

“I like your confidence, Todd.”

“And I—like you Y/L/N.”

-

Stay whelmed xx

Tori

[0-n-1-x]

link to my masterlist <33

Weird headcanon but I feel that Jason is also weirdly good at claw games

Like not even in a ‘hit it and watch this trick’ kind of way. I mean like genuinely good

Like imagine after a movie date you guys walk past those rigged machines on the way out the theatre and you're trying to get him to not spend his money because everyone knows they’re rigged

He ends up winning you six teddy bears and a mario plush

You have to drag him away from the ones you get iphones and speakers from

But let's just say his ego is THRIVING

[stararch4ngelqueen]

CUDDLES WITH JASON. HE HAD A NIGHTMARE AND READER CUDDLES HIM BACK TO THE SLEEP. SCRATCHES HIS SCALP AND SHIT. THIS MAN DESERVES SOFTNESS. Much Love💕

Thank you!!! I hope you enjoy this! ❤️

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Time written - 5:53 p.m

—

You wouldn’t call yourself a heavy or light sleeper, but every time you heard a strange, crooked gasp in the dead of night, you knew Jason was awake.

It’s quick and brash, as if choking on air, followed by a short series of gasps and harsh, rapid panting.

Fresh, clean air fills his lungs, not the stuffy, stale oxygen of a silk lined coffin, putrid with the stench of wet dirt; fresh flowers, and slightest tinge of formaldehyde.

“Jay?” The sweet serenity of your voice alerts him of your existence, of the reality of him not buried six feet underground.

Long before they filled up fresh graves with concrete.

His head shifts, tired teal eyes blown wide open with unidentified levels of panic.

Despite the darkness, it’s not enough for him to cower and hide from the shame of your worried gaze on him.

The blankets pool over his lap once he abruptly sits up, running hand through his sleep tussled locks. His muscles tremble like he’d run a marathon, or crawled out of a grave with his own two hands. If the lights were on, he’d believe he still have patches of dirt and grass clinging underneath his broken fingernails.

Before you, he wouldn’t go back to sleep so easily. He’d go out for any sort of distraction; mainly consisting of on his gear for a rooftop ghost chase. Anything to distract him from the confines of his mental prison when his darkest fears erupted into his dreams.

That was, until soft fingers brush along his skin, your hand comfortably wrapping around his broad forearm. You lean yourself against his shoulder, bare skin plush as you comfort him with whispers of consolation.

“M’sorry. M’so sorry,” He pants out with his head hung low, voice involuntarily trembling as he struggles to comprehend your soft words.

Even in his distress, he apologized for what he believes were his mistakes. Disturbing you of your sleep, causing a scene.

He hated this vulnerability, wanting to chase it out of his mind by hundreds of distractions, but he couldn’t.

Jason didn’t want to leave you, even if you’d allow it. You’d wait for him, he didn’t want that.

Another set of fingers trail behind his neck, slipping up to cradle his head close. He has no action over his body now, trembling nerves complying with your gentle touch.

“Shh, it’s okay.” You whisper against his cheek, keeping your arms secure about him as best as you could. “You’re alright, Jason. Its just us, in our home. Our anniversary was four hours ago, remember?”

His head settles down on your shoulder, brows heavily furrowed in distress despite his faint smile at the comment. He always told you to never hold in your tears, but always felt guilty when it came to releasing his. It ached deep in his throat; molten hot and bright red, nearly as painful as being facially branded all those years ago.

It took months of patience for you to learn his story, his suffering, his trauma. Any of it could’ve been the source of his nightmares, but why seek through the aches of the past? No good could come of it, their was no need.

Gentle hands guide him back to lay down, some of his body settling over yours. His head rests along your chest after you tug the blankets back over your bare bodies, encasing you both in a warm bubble of comfort.

Your heartbeat eased his troubled thoughts into pure silence, soothing his headache in seconds. Supple skin pressed against his faintly stubbled cheek, carrying a hint of sweet fragrance from your lotion.

“You okay?” You question, keeping as calm as possible for his sake. You never minded coming to his aid, never minding being his shoulder to cry on, or his body to embrace when he felt alone.

“Mhm.” Came his weak reply.

Your fingers lightly scratch along his scalp shortly after such a limited response, leaving him in utter heaven from such intimate, soothing motions.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“No.” His sleep induce rasp permeated his tone, too comfortable to even maneuver the muscles in his mouth. Every nerve in his body melted, making him putty in your hands.

“Okay.” You didn’t pry, only resuming the Lord’s divine work of your fingers combing through Jason’s hair.

A small hum rumbles deeply from his throat, his hands shuffling under soft sheets to caress your body. Arms slipping underneath your back, he cradles you like a pillow, keeping himself secured to your smaller frame.

Soft, honeysuckle lips kiss along his forehead, solidifying the facts of his comfort, his safety. He was safe; he was alive, he was here, right where he needed to be.

If the moon shined her rays just a little brighter through the cracks of the curtains, you’d be blessed with the sight of dilated pupils swallowing up those pretty blue irises. Jason adoringly staring into the distance towards the bedroom wall, eyes slowly lulled closed behind thick lashes.

His only regret was falling asleep way too soon, wanting to experience this slice of heaven just a little bit longer.

[allthegothihopgirls]

when the batboys get ahold of new single-player video game, there's only one console in wayne mansion (for literally no reason. there should be more), so they all have the unspoken agreement to huddle around a tv in someone's room and watch as one person plays it through.

you'd expect them to get annoyed at each other, not being able to agree on the "choose your own" options of the game, or getting frustrated with the person playing's incompetence at certain parts. but they're all surprisingly content with each other when they're playing.

tim's usually the one to play the game, because he's remarkably good, and is the most open to suggestions from others (unlike jason + the great controller break of the century). dick will watch pretty passively, and explain to damian the parts he doesn't quite understand the morals of, sometimes he takes over when no one else can pass a level. damian will join in watching, and is more enthusiastic than usual when it's a game he's been waiting to see. sometimes if he isn't particularly interested he ends up falling asleep. jason gets really into it, and him and tim usually take turns playing different parts of the game, it's the best they get along pretty much ever. before they've even sat down and started the game, jason seems to already know every fun fact and easter egg about it, and will share them throughout the gameplay.

bruce and alfred are more than happy to let the boys stay up later than usual or skip out on a chore they were supposed to do, when they're all playing a game together. it's the most normal they ever get. bruce only interferes if he walks past and sees damian asleep, to which he'll take him away and carry him to bed.

[formerheroeswhoquittoolate]

there are protocols for what to do with every batkid when they panic / otherwise freak out. bruce has them written down somewhere but at a certain point they all just know them instinctively.

dick: make sure his feet are on the floor. put your feet on the floor. hold wrists -- not hands, but wrists, so neither of you could possibly slip. neither of you are falling. he needs to know that.

jason: don't touch him. talk to him. if you can lead him to a big, open space, do that. leave the doors open. turn the lights on. watch him, but don't get too close unless he asks for a hug.

tim: keep talking. doesn't matter what you say, just make sure he can't forget you're there. even after he says he's fine, even if it seems like he's fine, he's not, so don't leave. stay. if you can't stay, find someone who can.

damian: don't forget he's literally a child, but take him seriously. ask him what's wrong. him, you can reassure. don't touch his hair -- talia and ra's did that a lot, when he was in the league, and he'll flinch away from you. the knife helps him feel safe, don't worry, it's not about you.

cass: you can talk to her all you want but she is not going to answer you. speaking is hard enough on a good day. if you even manage to guess that she's panicking, keep your posture open. she won't take a hug, but she might come lean against you.

steph: hold her. it's pretty straightforward with her, actually. just hold her close and talk her through calming down. get somewhere you can take your mask off, if you're in costume, and let her see your face.

babs: get her a weighted blanket and a cup of tea and just let her be. if anyone besides dick or her dad asks, she's fine. she will be fine, honestly. she's a little better adjusted than most of the family. just keep an eye out for her.

duke: he's new. if you're not cass, dick, or tim, you should probably get one of them. kid gloves with him. you might have to walk him through breathing, focusing on the things around him, all the things that are second nature to everyone else now. remember, he hasn't been doing this all his life.

[fcthots]

dont you love the way of jason’s messy hair after touching and taking care of the reader and the way he looks (especially the messy hair!!!) reserved for the reader and reader only

He man has a ten step hair care routine and you are the ONLY person he allows to see him without having done it (that isn’t part of his family). Those curls take work.

But there’s some satisfaction you have to take knowing that you messed up his precious hair, and that he liked it. Hearing him moan into your cunt as you tug on the strands is an otherworldly experience. After he’s done and he’s made sure you’re satisfied he pulls away and, damn, those hooded eyes, unfocused and clouded, his chin, coated in your slick even if he doesn’t seem to notice, and, best of all, his hair. You slowly unfurl your fingers from it and it sticks up in all directions, but he doesn’t seem to notice or care. He’s so focused on you. There’s something to be said about the way he focuses on you, the way he lets his guard down around you, the way he looks so soft with his hair fluffed out.

He’ll let you help him get all the knots out and fix it later, even if you helping makes the process longer. He likes the contact of it. Likes your gentle and warm hands running over his scalp. He likes the way you’re so focused on it, he can unabashedly stare at you for as long as his heart desires. And he’ll blush when you call him a pretty boy but he’ll pretend he doesn’t know what you’re talking about. And when he falls asleep and his hair is stuck to his head in one side, he’ll let you fluff it out because it makes you smile.

[maj-b-s]

Brazilian Y/N: So honey, would you like to learn Portuguese? Because I would love to teach you!

Jason *chokes*: W-what kind of teaching?

Brazilian Y/n: Would you like to discover love?

Jason: for sure😏

*some time later*

*Brazilian Y/n tight and pulling Jason's cheeks*

Brazilian Y/n: Oh! look at the cute way you talk! *smiles*

Jason: This was not what I expected... *mumbles*

[groovyace]

Hello if you draw AK Jason being/doing something soft and being happy I'll keep that image in a little cabinet in my heart forever and ever and ever

[julymusings]

jason todd loves to sit on the bathroom counter and watch you get ready. he loves seeing you pink and fresh-faced after scrubbing off your cleanser. he loves how shiny and glowy you look after applying moisturizer, and how good you smell after rubbing cocoa butter over your bare shoulders and chest, on your soft arms and stomach. he loves how you stand on your toes and lean closer to the mirror and how your mouth opens slightly when you're applying mascara. he loves how concentrated you are when doing eyeliner, the way the tip of your tongue pokes out from between your lips. he loves the big smile you make to put blush on the apples of your cheeks, the one that makes your nose scrunch. and he loves the little pout you make when you apply your lipstick. and he especially loves how you wordlessly gesture for him to come closer so you can blot your lipstick by planting a fat kiss on his cheek. jason todd loves watching you get ready.

[call-me-strega]

Dc x Dp Prompt #16: Let me Steal You Away

Eldritch Fae-like Danny accidentally seduces Jason and steals him away from Gotham but in less a “Hades and Persephone” way and more of a “we eloped and moved to the suburbs” way

[m3vl0vesu]

I promised to try.2

A/N: What! Me? Writing fluff? A scandal!! Well here's part two of I promised to try, kept it nice and short this time because yup.

part 1

“In and out, just like how I taught you.”

.

.

. A heavy hand squeezed your shoulder, you knew that voice. He came, of course he did. For some reason his stoic presence calms you down, and it was embarrassing. So embarrassing how he’d seen you this weak so many times. You were sure that he looked down on you.

“Do you want me to take down the clock?”

That was an obvious yes, it just made you feel ashamed that it still triggered you. You thought that you had it under control, clearly not. Hey-at least this was an excuse to go shopping. Plus, who needs clocks, phones tell the time! 

“Miss…” he sighed. Great now you’ve disappointed him, a long silence followed before he spoke again. “Come on, I have just the thing that’ll lift your spirits.”

Oh. Okay, that was a better response than what you were thinking. Since you needed some light you followed him, following the familiar steps to the kitchen. A sweet aroma filled the room, something warm but your happiness was quickly wrong. “Alfred. Someone else is in here-” The lights clicked on, the ‘someone’ was actually light eyes. Something you started calling him, in all honesty you thought they would glow in the dark. Pretty sure they did once.

They came back pretty early, it was only 3 am. Tim sat on the kitchen island, holding a cup of hot cocoa, his nose red and runny. He was muttering something, it sounded funny since his voice was all nasally. He was an odd kid. “Hey Tim, what's wrong?” A small smirk on your face as you looked at him, he didn’t respond but Alfred did. “Master Tim here didn’t go on patrol tonight.” “And it’s not fair! You're not out there either, so Bruce could definitely…” 

He continued on his rants, they were getting easier to tune out. You looked at Alfred, it didn’t make sense in you. “Yes Miss.. Bruce didn’t allow Tim on Patrol.” His smile was soft, there was a mutual understanding between you. Bruce had listened to you, he had cared. At least this once, Alfred was right; it did lift your spirits, just a little. Maybe he was going to change, maybe he was going to come back, or maybe this was a one off thing. You didn’t know anymore, but Tim was still upset. 

Even though you were glad that he stayed home the manor he had a good reason to be upset, his worries were actual worries. “Hey, light eyes…” you were going to tell him it wasn’t his job, you wanted to comfort him but you also knew how the words would just phase through him, “you should add marshmallows to that.” Looking at Alfred, who already had the marshmallows in hand, you sat next to him. “Here.” The way his eyes lit up at the sight of them made you giggle, he really was just a kid. After you over loaded his hot cocoa with marshmallows and whipped cream Alfred gave you your own. Which became too sweet after you turned your back towards the thirteen year old. It reminded you of those nights, when it had been a particular bad fight with some villain.

Dick, Jason and you would sneak into the kitchen and make nonsense concoctions, your favourite would be the mug-cakes. Boy did that take a lot of trial and error…

Looking at the now sleeping Tim, you realised something. You don’t want him to be Jason, not like anyone could be Jason, but you want him to be your brother, you want to make new memories with him. While also enjoying the old ones. 

.

.

.

[0-n-1-x]

Link to my masterlist <33

Imagine patching Jason up after a particularly rough night

Your waiting up late, way past your usual bedtime, Jason should’ve been home by now, the sun was starting to rise. The man in question bangs on the window and you rush to let him in. Coming from the window, his blood drips down. “Why’re you up?”

“Jason that should not be the first thing you think of right now”

Its a comfortable silence as you use the first aid kit conveniently stashed under the bathroom counter. You use the gauze to wrap his wounds, the soft hiss or fuck coming from his lips as you use alcohol to clean his scrapes

[midosune]

Day 16-Late Nights Working