#jason todd headcanon

[luca-is-a-pengu]

Take public transportation, they said. It will be fun they said.

I actually went away from my assigned colours and gäbe Tim a new oufit. Mainly cause I feel like he loves baggy clothes.

My working title for this was "Tiny Tim"

[dollishmehrayan]

# “I NEED YOUR LOVING, LIKE THE SUNSHINE, EVERYONE’S GOT TO LEARN SOMETIME.” ── .✦ ( batboys when they have a crush on you ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ )

dollish note ౨ৎ: yes this is based off that one korgis song and if you know it, your elite marry me immediately anywayss I need like more cute events to do omgg and guys I’m going to look for a new divider edition but the bunny will always stay don’t worryyy tags: (batboys x reader)

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

He’s so obvious. Everyone knows. Even villains probably know, even you probably know but we always play hard to get. (that’s js me sorry)

Overly casual compliments: “Wow, you look… good. Like, really good. Is that new? No? I just never noticed how great you always look??”

Purposely hangs around you way more than necessary. “Oh wow, fancy seeing you here again... at this coffee shop... at this exact time... for the fifth time this week…”, “uh.. sure okay dick.”

Gets physically flustered. You smile at him and he bumps into a wall.

Brings you little gifts like coffee, snacks, or something you mentioned once two months ago that he totally remembered.

Accidentally lets it slip to Barbara. You find out two days later because she’s evil (and supportive). GIRL BOSSSSS

RASON RODD (IF YKYK) ── .✦

Denies it to everyone. Even himself. “Me? Crushing? Pfft. Please. I'm just being nice. I’m always this nice. Shut up.”

Acts all chill and tough but turns into a sarcastic teddy bear when you're around.

Tries not to care but notices everything about you like when you’re tired, upset, or need space.

Gets really protective, then downplays it. “Yeah I threatened that guy because he was being annoying. Not because he was flirting with you. Nope.” ( our little nonchalant guy )

Will read/watch your favorite stuff in secret so he can talk about it with you, then pretends he hated it. “No, I didn’t like it. But the plot twist in episode 7 was wild. Just sayin’.”

Probably punches a wall the first time someone calls him out. Literally everyone in the family: “Just ask them out already.”

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

Has a million tabs open on “how to tell if someone likes you back.”

Obsesses over every text you send. Sends a reply. Deletes it. Writes a better one. Deletes that too. Eventually sends “lol yeah same” and regrets it instantly.

Runs into you and forgets how to function for 3 seconds. “Hey—hi—hey. Sorry. I mean. Hello.”

Will research your interests so he can impress you or casually bring them up. “Oh, you’re into ___? I read a couple papers about that, super cool stuff.”

Accidentally calls you “cute” in passing, then vanishes for two days to a point you wonder if he might appear on the missing website thing.

You find out he has a playlist called “maybe someday” and the first song is something painfully romantic.

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Pretends he doesn’t like you. Like, aggressively. But it’s so obvious.

Gives you weirdly thoughtful gifts and says things like, “I noticed you were using inferior supplies.”

Blushes if you compliment him. Denies he’s blushing. “Tt. The temperature is simply warm.”

Subtly changes his schedule to be around you more. He’ll be in the library when you’re there, in the gym at the same time it’s definitely not a coincidence (even though he insists it is).

Draws you. Like, sketches. Constantly. Says it’s “for anatomy practice.”

Acts annoyed when you talk to someone else, then pouts in a corner like a feral cat.

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

He doesn’t even realize it at first. It hits him out of nowhere, like genuinely out of thin air.

Brooding increases by 200%. He stares off into space, thinking about you, and Alfred has to snap him out of it.

Becomes awkwardly formal. “Would you… perhaps… like to join me for dinner? I understand if that’s… inconvenient.” ( like despite being a former player and all and smoothhh as hell when he genuinely likes someone he can’t be smooth, your like his Andrea beaumont but if they worked out )

Totally asks Alfred for advice. Alfred gives him the same advice he gave him at 16.

When you smile at him, he short-circuits a little. You get a rare, soft Bat-smile in return.

Once he’s sure of his feelings, he’s all in but oh boy, it takes a while.

[writing-nothing-but-spilled-ink]

I have this headcanon that Jason todd as a boyfriends is absolutely a murder boyfriend okay let me explain

Jason is the type of guy where he does not care if you joke about murder or be like I wish that person was dead when your frustrated or angry he doesn't bat an eye even when you look insane ranting and raving or when you go into derail qbour how much you want them to suffer but you do have to tell him if your serious or not.

Cause that man will absolutely put on his helmet and his little murder jeans and go take care of business.

And like it's a constant theme like you say something he immediately goes out does it and like at first you didn't think he was serious until you witness him suiting up.

but there is a bit of a condition to this with Jason. Okay he's not like this immediately upon being in a relationship there's a certain amount of time that must pass and you can't tell him to go kill a man just cause he accidentally bumped into you and made you spill your cupcakes if you asked he'd squint at you and be like.. "ummm how about I just do your laundry and make you new ones cause that's not a crime and clearly an accident?"

But if you tell him that person was abusive treated you badly and is treating someone you care for badly he looks into it and will eliminate the problem. That man is absolutely feral when he's in love more so when he's out of it and the batfam kinda watch this version of Jason with a sigh and they do what they can to make sure his lover doesn't want anyone dead they're so tired of the bodies Jason buries. Dick is a little more accepting he definitely disapproves but if it's a mass murderer that no one's caught he's just like I saw nothing actually.

[blu3n]

https://x.com/_red_insomniac?s=21

OH MY GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD

IS MY MAAAAAAAN

Artist : INSOMNIC. (I don't know if it's Instagram or Twitter.)

R

E

D

[myeyebagsaredesigner]

Headcannon that Jason is so touch-starved from isolating himself and convincing himself he hates his family, so when he starts reconnecting with them, he’s caught off guard by how weird he gets with human contact

Getting back to the cave after a patrol

Dick: “Great work today guys!” *pats Jason on the shoulder*

Jason, brain malfunctioning: “Uh-I-uh- fuck you!” *runs away*

Dick, with tears in his eyes: “.. I was just- I’m sorry?”

And like it gets to a point where Jason is so weirded out by how much it affects him so he starts going to a hair salon. He figures that they touch your scalp so much, he’d be cured within 2 visits, but he ends up liking it there and is now a regular customer.

So he knows all the gossip with his hairstylist, Janice, and her next door neighbors who keep stealing her garbage can. And he knows about Mary, another regular, and how she can’t get married to her new boyfriend because her ex-husband refuses to sign the divorce papers.

The bats have started to notice the increasing quality in his hair, but refuse to outright ask him about it. They’re also very confused at the random names he throws out there occasionally during moments together

Tim, working on a school project and throwing out lots of plastic

Jason, walking by and remembering a salon girl majoring in environmental studies: “Ooh, Gracey would NOT like that.”

Tim: ???

Eventually, they see Jason through the window of the salon while they’re passing by, and see him talking to the older ladies and waving around a hairbrush like he owns the place.

[talekinesis]

Headcanon that Jason hated taking pills as a kid, partially due to trauma from being on the streets, but mostly because he's like 10 and they're just yucky

But he's also a kid with ✨️allergies✨️

And Bruce has tried everything. Bribing, begging, being stern, bargaining, everything.

But one day he gets the brilliant idea to hide the pill in a snack and give it to him then, and what do you know, it fucking works

And that's just how he continues to sneak allergy pills into Jason's system

Until Dick catches him and can't stop laughing because, "That's how you give dogs medicine."

And Bruce is mortified at the realization that he's been treating his son like a dog.. But like, it works, regardless, and it's the only thing that works

Years and a pit later, Jason's an adult and his allergies are acting up again so he asks Bruce if he has any allergy meds, and out of pure muscle memory, Bruce reaches for the snack cabinet before he stops and remembers that Jason's an adult now, so he just grabs the medicine bottle and tosses it to him

And that's when it finally clicks for Jason that everytime Bruce gave him a 'random treat,' as a child, it was deception

And he's never felt more betrayed

[orchidsarchives]

Jason Todd headcanons part idk

- he’s got a little miffy sticker on his bike because some kid was in a “vandalizing” mood. jason thought it was stupid at first, but then the more he looked at it, the cuter it got. so he just decided to leave it there.

- skull hand tattoo. he’s corny.

- jason’s definitely got photographic/eidetic memory, that boy does NOT forget anything. he’s also generally more perceptive than the average person… the perks of being raised by a detective…

- he does that spinning pen trick out of habit (and it’s super attractive). you leave that boy anywhere with a pen and he’s set, he will not be bored. he’s doing silly little tricks to keep him company.

- and this doesn’t really need to be said, but he’s such a good listener. it doesn’t matter who’s speaking, they’ll always have his undivided attention.

- oh and uh he does the whole “bends down to hear you better” thing… (or he looks up at you with softest eyes if you’re taller btw)

- jason smells warm and spicy, somthing like tom ford’s tobacco vanille perfume. i also don’t think he cares about cologne vs perfume, he just wears whatever smells good to him.

- this might be a little niche, but i don’t think he’s ever been on a clean bulk lol

- speaking of which, jason’s got a big, big, BIG sweet tooth! he loves sugar and craves it almost all of the time.

- i like to think that he stops by little bakeries during his patrols. they’re not usually open at 3 in the morning, but the bakers are always up and preparing yummy treats for the day. they often see jason out and about in the late hours of the night, so they always give him somthing to eat, thus making his sugar addiction worse.

[rosaeh]

my jason todd's headcanons | II

biter with sharp canines !! like this man has fangs and it's both cute and hot.

wavy hair, but he doesnt define his curls much, he doesnt have time for that. and he has is helmet on almost all the time, so his hair end up flat sometimes lmao which makes the curls worse.

not that his hair isn't pretty but it could be better, you know ?

however he lets you define his curls when you both lay together, and your hands find their way in his hair —like it always does when your together. even lets you buy curls products. his hair is way better since you guys are together.

thoughts on tattoo and piercing : i saw someone saying it's like personalizing your character. but i feel like jason doesn't feel like he owns his body anymore. so it could both be a way to try and reconquer his body, or he wouldnt do it because there's no point.

either way i like sleeves tattoo probably (he would so let you color it). and i like tattoo that cover/follow the line of his autopsy scar like the all caste tattoo.

and piercing i like a few ones on the ears. and now that i think of it, a tongue piercing would be REAL hot. perhaps one on the brow too.

private but not secret relationship with jason todd.

jason with a picture of reader in his wallet. he is old fashioned like that.

and while on patrol, he tends to keep a picture of you in the pocket inside his jacket, near his heart. he claims it protect him. (he would definitely sit somewhere after a patrol, all beaten up, and he'd take out your picture, whispering a thanks for keeping me safe as if you were his own personal godess)

«I'm not a religious person, but I do sometimes think God made you for me.» - Normal People. (one of my fav quote !!)

like, come on, this man literally greet his bed, of course he speaks to a picture of you.

bonus point if you write a note at the back of the picture. makes this grown man melt.

and you do actually keep him safe, because every night he has to make sure he comes back to you.

speaking of ! he would literally crawl into bed with you. he'd discard his helmet and gear, letting them fall on the floor — he'll take care of it in the morning, all he wants for now is to hold you. if he's not too tired he'll take a quick shower before crawling into bed with you.

temple kisses, so that he can smell your shampoo. but honestly he just turns his head when holding you and reach to kiss without really carrying where it lands — you mouth, your hair...he loves it all anyway.

im 100% sure he gives you a little "trinket" to use as a keychain, and you like just have to press it if you're having trouble, and it'll send him your location. he'll be there in less than a minute top.

[eiraeths]

thinking about the pit giving jason visible blaschko lines

they’re the lines of fetal skin cell development and everyone’s got them they’re usually just not visible unless something causes hyperpigmentation

[dntaed]

The hum of your computer fills the silence in the shared apartment, the soft buzz of the screen the only sound between you and JASON. You sit cross-legged, perched on your chair, eyes bleary as you stare down at the glowing document in front of you. It feels like it’s mocking you, its blankness echoing your tiredness.

It's late, but you force yourself to sift through the endless files. A groan escapes you as your head falls back against the chair, your thoughts wandering to anything but work.

Like the idea of cuddling with Jason, your sweet boyfriend, who's sprawled on the couch. His tired blue-green eyes peer at you through half-lidded lashes, never leaving your figure. The light from your screen casts a halo around you, highlighting his tired, almost pleading expression. His breathing is slow and steady, a quiet invitation: “Come to me. Sleep.”

Another soft sigh escapes him, a sound that’s part frustration, part yearning. His fingers curl around the arm of the couch, his head tilting to rest on it as his eyes follow you, his gaze heavy with a quiet sadness—as though the one thing he wants most is just out of reach.

“You know,” Jason says, his voice a careful balance of neutrality, “you can finish that tomorrow.” The soft, almost pleading tone sneaks through despite his efforts to keep it at bay.

You sigh again. “I could,” you murmur, distracted, trying to rationalize your stubbornness. “I just have to finish this.”

Jason hums thoughtfully, letting your words settle in his mind as he processes them. Then, a spark of an idea flickers in his gaze.

The next moment, you hear the shuffle of his movements—slippers sliding across the wooden floor, the faint squeak of leather from the couch. You glance up to find him standing over you, his soft, concerned eyes focused entirely on you. His expression tightens with worry, his lips pressing together, crow's feet crinkling at the corners of his eyes. Without a word, he steps closer, his face nuzzling against the crook of your neck.

“The only thing you need to do right now,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin, “is rest.”

“But—” you start, but your resistance is weak, and before you can protest further, he scoops you up, strong arms lifting you effortlessly and throwing you over his shoulder.

“Jason!” you squeal, half-laughing, half-protesting.

“No buts,” he says, his voice laced with a teasing smirk. “You’re so stubborn.” You feel the playful pinch of his fingers on the soft flesh of your thigh, and despite yourself, you giggle.

You wriggle in his arms as he carries you toward the bedroom, his steps sure and steady. The sight of the ivory sheets on your bed is almost too much to resist—so inviting, so warm, like they’re calling to you. Finally, you relax in his embrace as he gently lowers you onto the bed.

A mischievous grin spreads across Jason's face as he watches you. You can’t help but chuckle, rolling your eyes playfully. “Fine, I suppose this is nice.”

He snorts, clearly amused. “Suppose? Nice? This is perfect. Now sleep. You need it.”

“Okay, okay,” you relent with a soft smile. “It is perfect. But only because you’re here.”

Jason’s gaze softens as he looks at you, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m always here with you.”

[squipa]

the boy is mine (MDNI!)

aka professional eater jason todd (warnings: smut, edging, period sex, mentions of vaginal sex, lots of pussy eating, not proofread)

———

jason todd is a munch. he eats you like a man possessed, he quite literally cannot get enough. you taste so good, so sweet, and it kills him every time, getting to swirl is tongue around your swollen cunt. “god, ma, your pussy was made for me.” he’ll say, his voice muffled between your legs. and god, he’s good at it. he has spent countless orgasms learning what makes you feel good, what makes your thighs shake and squeeze around his head, what makes you yell those pretty little moans the loudest.

he has to prep you before sex every night, that’s just a fact. he knows you would just about split in half if you tried to take his cock without an orgasm and a half making you nice and wet for him. the pleasure of eating you out is for him just as much as it is for you. getting to nibble and suck on your sloppy wet cunt makes his cock go hard faster than anything else. he’s careful to extend the moment as long as possible, swirling his tongue around your fold, sucking your clit until he’s made you a dumb, moaning mess. he pulls back right as you’re about to cum, a cruelty that makes you whimper out a soft “jay, please.” your desperate little whines make him even hornier, and he makes sure to make you beg a few more times before letting you finish all over his face.

he especially loves it when you’re on your period, he insists you taste even better. you were embarrassed at first, even tried to tell him to wait until the week was up, but that just wouldn’t do. “sweetheart,” he would say, the thought of waiting for you too heavy a burden to bare, “you’re suffering bad enough. let me make you feel good.”

you couldn’t refuse that, and true to his word, he made pure ecstasy course through you, orgasm after orgasm. so now, when you’re on your period, he loses himself in your pussy, making you cum countless times until your forget your name. he doesn’t pull away, not when you pull his hair, not when you beg for him to stop, not when your little cunt squeezes so tightly around his face he can’t breathe. no, he’ll only lean back, his face dripping with an addicting mixture of your slick and blood, when he’s satisfied.

———

first smut on the blog… like and subscribe for more

[fcthots]

Jason Todd with sharp canines that he accidentally nips you with all the time. At some point you kinda just have to shove your hand in his mouth to take a look and find out what the fuck he has in there that could possibly be doing this shit. He just sort of lets you without question and complains in muffled gibberish around your hand.

He does apologize profusely every time he knicks you though (and depending on what he was trying to do, he’ll lick or kiss it better). Unfortunately he refuses to do it on purpose.

But if you distract him enough with your hands tugging on the roots of his hair while he’s trying to leave a hickey… let’s just say he has a hard time focusing on being careful.

[dollishmehrayan]

# “YEAH I’M A BUSY WOMAN I WOULDN’T LET YOU COME INTO MY CALENDAR” ── .✦ ( batboys x uni!reader because why not ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ )

dollish note ౨ৎ: writing this while like two cans of coke zero and I genuinely might pull a crazy all nighter but I sleep at 5 am normally so WHO GIVE A FUCKK, anywayss this goes to my stress ridden babies due to midterms for you guys soon I thinkk (all of us 🥲) tags: (batboys x reader)

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

He brings you snacks when you’re studying and by “snacks” we mean full takeout meals because he forgets how to portion ( accidentally gets you like 10 different sauces because he didn’t know which one you’d want. )

Will absolutely FaceTime you during your breaks just to make you laugh and decompress.

“So what are we learning today, professor babe?” , “I’m not even a professor dick.” while spinning in your desk chair.

Offers to help you practice presentations and claps like a proud dad after. (YES HE’S THAT CRINGEY)

Shows up to your classes sometimes just to walk you home hoodie, shades, and all like he’s one of those celebrities who avoid paparazzi.

Brags about you constantly: “They’re in college. That’s hot.”

JASON TODD ── .✦

Brings you coffee strong enough to revive the dead. “You said you had a paper due, I brought the goods.”

Pretends to not care but is 100% the one who stays up with you all night while you write essays.

Sits on the couch reading classic literature while you're buried in textbooks. "Need help understanding The Iliad? I gotchu." ( he’s the besttt explainer )

Might write your prof a strongly worded email if he thinks you got graded unfairly. You have to stop him.

“Study breaks” with him usually turn into making out. And somehow more caffeine. ( i volunteer to contribute i fear )

Secretly keeps one of your academic achievements (like a certificate or paper) in his bookshelf. Doesn’t tell anyone.

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

The ultimate study partner. Organized notes. Color-coded everything. Quizlet decks for days.

“You’re not sleeping enough. Here’s melatonin. And a planner. Also, breathe.”

Will pull all-nighters with you and still somehow get 100% on his own assignments.

If you’re freaking out, he builds a full 7-step action plan with deadlines, breaks, and snacks.

Occasionally goes “I read that journal article actually, it’s flawed,” and you’re like ( insert standing woman emoji fr fr 🧍‍♀️)

Loves helping you with research. You say “I need a source,” and he sends you 12 peer-reviewed papers in 5 mins.

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦ ( AGED UP FOR THIS BUT NO NSFW!)

“Tt. University is easy. You're making it harder than it needs to be.”, “EXCUSE ME-“ But deep down, he’s in awe of how hard you work.

Brings you your favorite drink exactly how you like it without asking and knows what flavor of drinks you like too.

He proofreads your essays like he’s a dissertation committee. Will roast you but also fix every single grammar issue.

Draws you little doodles on sticky notes with encouraging messages like, “You are competent. Continue.”

constantly complaining to you to, “You should be getting more sleep.” “You should talk to your professor.” “You should eat breakfast.”

Acts unimpressed until you ace a test, and then he casually slips a gift into your bag like it’s no big deal.

[icarusignite]

My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys (p.2)

Pairing: Jason Todd x Civilian! GN! Reader

Summary: In a city where kindness is fleeting and warmth feels like a myth, a reclusive vigilante crosses paths with another ghost orbiting the same darkness. What begins as cautious companionship spirals into something tender, fragile, and terrifying. But when fear drives him away, and violence drags you to the edge of death, Jason Todd is forced to confront the one truth he’s always run from: some things, once lost, can’t be stitched back together. And some things are worth bleeding for.

Warnings: GROVELING (ish). more of Jason being a yearner like god intended, some religious metaphor shenanigans. Hurt/comfort, angst to fluff

Word Count: 3k 

A/N: the amount of love part 1 received blew my mind omg, yall are the absolute sweetest, thank you. I hope you enjoy how I wrapped it up <3 Would love to hear your thoughts!

Part 1 | Part 2 | AO3

You woke into a scene that felt like something pulled from a fever dream, or worse—a cruel afterlife stitched together by the frayed edges of your longing. Everything was bathed in an almost sacred kind of stillness, so at odds with the agony blooming just beneath your skin. It was too warm. Your body felt swaddled in heat, sunk deep into softness, and for a moment you couldn’t remember why that should feel so strange. Why the warmth felt like betrayal. Why your ribs felt like they were being pried open with every breath.

And then it began to return. Not all at once, but in shattering fragments. The cold tiles, the sting in your side, the dim bathroom light flickering against the red that wouldn't stop coming. And the loneliness. God, the loneliness.

But you weren’t in that tomb of porcelain and mildew anymore. Someone had moved you. Carried you, tended to you. You were in your bed, the edge of your blanket folded over with care, and your pillow fluffed just enough, like a memory from childhood reimagined in a cracked mirror. The surrealism of it nearly brought tears to your eyes, until you turned your head, and saw him.

Your breath caught in your throat. He looked like hell. His jacket was slung over the chair, his gloves were forgotten on your nightstand, and his helmet was nowhere to be seen. But his eyes were the same. Wild and wide and far too human, locking onto yours the moment you blinked.

And then he moved. Bolted upright from his seat as if your gaze had yanked him forward with a chain, and his hand shot out to reach for you before he hesitated, curling his fingers into a fist mid-air, holding himself back.

“You’re awake?” he said hoarsely.

You couldn’t answer, because now you remembered. You remembered everything.

The rain. The sick, spinning cold. The dying. 

And him of course. 

His silence. His absence. The words he'd left you with, sharp as glass, tearing through you with more cruelty than any dagger to the ribs. The memories hit you like the tail end of a speeding car, and your face twisted as the grief crested again, too exhausted to cry but too full not to break.

Jason watched it happen in your expression, and he flinched like he’d been struck.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I’m—fuck, I’m so sorry. I should’ve never—”

But he didn’t finish. What was there to finish?

He should’ve never left. He should’ve never come back. He should’ve never let you in. He should’ve never pretended you didn’t already live somewhere in his very marrow.

You ignored his words. Your throat burned like you'd swallowed nails. None of this could be real. Not the warmth of the bed. Not the hurt terrorizing in your insides. Not him.

This was a hallucination, you decided, clawed up from the borderlands of death. And none of it mattered. What mattered was water. You needed water.

Gritting your teeth, you shoved the covers off, swinging your legs over the bed in defiance of your own body. The floor was far too cold when your bare feet touched down, and when you stood, your knees buckled. A tremor ran up your spine and you nearly folded in half from the agony that bloomed beneath your ribs. A tear broke loose, trailing your cheek like an apology you didn’t want to give. You told yourself it was from the pain. It had nothing to do with the figure at your bedside.

He was there in an instant. His hands caught your shoulders, steadied you before you could collapse into a heap of stubborn bones and bleeding skin. And you reflexively flinched at his touch.

You didn’t mean to, and you hated the way his face shifted when you did, like you’d just torn something open in him with your recoil.

“Where are you going?” he asked hesitantly. “You should rest—”

“Don’t,” you croaked, voice splintering. A sob caught sharp in your throat like a shard of glass.

Jason blinked. “Don’t what? I was only trying to—”

You shook your head, twisting out of his grasp, something volatile overtaking your features. Whatever mask of patience you usually wore had been peeled away, discarded along with the rest of your composure in some filthy alley.

“Don’t do this.”

His brow knit together. “Do what?”

“Pretend like you care,” you rasped. “Make room for yourself in my life, only to walk out again. I can’t—” The next breath hitched. “I wouldn’t survive it a second time.”

His mouth opened, but you cut him off.

“If you’re going to leave, do it now. Don’t play nurse. Don’t patch me up like it makes things even. Don’t do it for karma points or whatever misplaced guilt brought you here. Don’t do it because you think you owe me something. You don’t.”

"That's not what I—"

“Get out. Get lost. I don't want to be your goddamn charity case. I don't want your pity.”

Each word struck him like a hammer to the chest, and you watched it land. The recoil. The wince. The way the light in his eyes dimmed a little more with each sentence, his own words flung back at him.

But you couldn't stop. You were exhausted and hollowed out, emptied by loneliness and agony and the effort it took to survive when your heart felt like it had been left bleeding beside your body in that alley. And if you were going to be abandoned again, you’d rather be abandoned now. You couldn’t bear the slow unravelling of his presence settling into your world again, only to disappear without warning.

You didn’t want to relearn the shape of him in your life only to lose it all over again. You were already a ghost of yourself. You couldn’t become less.

Jason watched you fold like a dying thing. Quiet and slow, like paper soaked through, caving under its own weight. One second you were standing there, brittle and defiant, and the next, you were crumpled on the floor, your arms around yourself like even your bones didn’t want to stay inside you anymore.

He dropped down with you in an instant. Instinct, more than anything. His hands reached out to anchor you to the moment as if it might save you from whatever abyss you were staring into.

You didn’t fight him. That was the part that hurt the most.

He expected fury. He would’ve welcomed the worst of your vitriol because it was better than this lifeless resignation. As if you'd already decided that you should have died. 

Still, he touched you, tentative at first, expecting to be struck. Cradled your cheeks between his scarred palms, thumbs brushing away tears you didn’t even seem to notice you were shedding. He murmured your name like a mantra, forehead pressing to yours, letting his voice tremble with all the apologies he didn’t know how to shape into words.

And you just let him. For one suspended heartbeat, you let him in.

Your stare was empty, gaze sliding past him like a spectre, but then you focused. Met his eyes.

“Red,” you rasped. "Why..."

A name he used to wear like armour. A name you’d once said in jest, in irritation, in sleepy fondness, curled up in the cocoon of your mismatched apartment. 

He couldn’t do it anymore.

“Jason,” he whispered. “It’s Jason. Call me Jason.”

He didn’t have anything else to give you. No house with a picket fence. No promises. No future carved from stability or peace. But he could give you this. Himself. Stripped down, unmasked, unhidden.

“I don’t want your pity,” you repeated. 

You refused to say his name, and he didn’t let it show, how that sliced clean through him. How it burned like acid in the hollow of his chest. He’d taken bullets more gently than that omission.

He might’ve laughed if his lungs could move. Pity? You thought that’s what this was?

God. If only it were that easy.

No, this wasn’t pity. This wasn’t some obligation born of guilt. If it were, he wouldn’t have kept orbiting your apartment like some tragic satellite. Wouldn’t have looked for excuses to linger at the bodega you liked. Wouldn’t have memorized the light in your kitchen window during certain hours. Wouldn’t have felt the earth tilt whenever he caught you sitting at the table, staring absently at his old chair, a steaming cup left untouched across from you like a shrine.

It wasn’t pity when you handed him a mug, your fingers brushing his, and he spent the next three days wondering if you’d noticed how hard he swallowed. It wasn’t pity when, in the pitch-dark silence of a blood-soaked rooftop, he thought only of you. Your laughter. Your sighs.

It wasn’t pity when he walked past that bookstore you liked, the one with the crooked shelves and sleepy cat in the window, and found himself wishing he'd taken you up on your offer to accompany you on one of your many visits. He still had an annotated copy of your favourite novel, a sticky note with your handwriting in the margins: “This part reminded me of you.” 

And it certainly wasn’t pity when every fight he picked, every near-death brawl he barely walked away from felt a little colder without your voice in his ear, grounding him.

It wasn’t pity. It was you.

And he hated that it had taken almost losing you to realize that he was not better off without you in his life. 

He reached up again, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear with the gentleness of someone afraid you’d shatter if he touched you wrong. His other hand smoothed the wrinkle between your brows as if he could erase even one fraction of your hurt.

Then, forehead to yours, he declared it like a vow. Maybe if he was sincere enough, the universe might spare you both. 

“Not pity. Never pity. I swear it.”

Jason Todd had never known grace. Not the kind whispered in the hush of cathedral pews or sung in the devout voices of choirs beneath vaulted ceilings, but if it ever existed, he imagined it wore your face.

You were a prayer he had no right to say, but he uttered your name like one anyway, each syllable pressed to the roof of his mouth like a secret devotion. In a life stitched with broken psalms and carmine confessions, you were the only thing untouched. A quiet sanctity in the middle of his ruin.

He wasn’t meant for soft things. His world was serrated edges and retribution, bruised knuckles and smoke-stained silence. But you were something else entirely. You were Sunday morning light through grimy windows. The stillness after the storm. The first inhale after nearly drowning. He would have knelt at your feet if he thought it could keep you safe. Would have bled himself dry if it meant you’d never bleed again. 

Maybe it was selfish. Maybe it was the height of blasphemy, to look at something so good and want it for himself. But the ache in him wasn’t hunger. It wasn’t even lust. It was longing, bone-deep and soul-starved. The reverent need to shelter you. To stand between you and the world’s worst cruelties, like an archangel guarding the last holy thing he’d ever know.

He didn’t deserve you. He knew that much. Jason had clawed his way back from the grave with dirt in his lungs and vengeance in his veins, not love. And yet, he wanted to believe that wanting could make it so. That yearning, in its purest form, might be enough to rewrite a man’s fate. Maybe wanting something so fiercely meant you could deserve a piece of it.

Maybe for once in his godless life, he would get to have something and keep it. Maybe that something could be you. 

Something inside you broke the moment his fingers combed through your hair, like each strand was spun from gold and he feared his touch might undo you entirely. His hands quivered as they cupped your face, and it felt like he was trying to will you whole again through sheer desperation.

Then he gave you his name, and you felt everything go motionless, like the wind outside had paused mid-gust, like the ache in your ribs had dulled just for a moment, stunned into silence.

Jason.

It wasn’t a name you had guessed at. He had always been Red Hood to you, a shadow at your window, never quite real, never entirely yours.

But Jason?

Jason was human. Jason was a name carved in soft syllables, not the hard edges of the mask he wore. It was a name that felt like the sun on concrete after the rain. Solid. Honest. A name you could say in the dark and know someone would answer.

You held the syllables on your tongue like a secret. God, it fit so achingly well, like it had always been stitched into the seams of your life, waiting to be revealed.

And when he said it—“It’s Jason. Call me Jason.”—it wasn’t a demand. It was a gift. His truth, stripped bare, handed to you like an apology wrapped in longing. You hadn’t asked for it, but he had given it anyway, and now you knew it. Now it was yours. You never wanted to let it go.

The tears came hard and fast after that, like a dam rupturing, and you collapsed into him with the weight of it all. Your grief, your fear, the loneliness that had become a second skin. It spilled out in great heaving sobs that made your bruised insides scream in protest. Nonetheless, you sobbed, gasping for breath as though your lungs no longer remembered how to hold air.

Jason, as always, caught you.

His arms wrapped around you like armour, and you felt the tremble in them too. He held you not as if you were fragile, but as if he might fall apart if he let go. You hated yourself for clinging, for staining his shirt with tears, for taking up space in a life like his, like an old ornament someone had meant to throw out. You thought he’d pull away. You thought he should.

But he never did.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, choking on the words.

“Hey, none of that, now” he murmured into your hair. “You don’t apologize to me. Ever.”

Your fingers curled tighter into the fabric of his shirt, the scent of smoke and rain and something inherently him grounding you. “I didn’t want to be a bother. You said to let you go.”

Jason pulled back just enough to see your face, his thumb brushing beneath your eyes. His own shone with something terrible and beautiful—grief, regret, reverence. He shook his head, jaw clenched like it hurt to speak.

“You came?” you rasped. “You really came?”

He swallowed. “Of course, I came. You were supposed to call me. That’s what the number was for.” He held up the burner phone like it was a relic.

You looked away, the shame unbearable. “Didn’t want to be… a burden. You said—”

“I know what I said. And I was a goddamn idiot for it. I’m sorry. I can’t be sorry enough.”

“Yeah but—” 

“You’re not a bother,” he affirmed, fiercely now. “Not to me. Not ever. You call me—any hour, any day—I will come. In a heartbeat. I don’t care where I am, who I’m with. I will always come for you.”

"Oh."

Held you tighter then, whispering your name like it was holy. Like you were something worthy. Something his.

“I’ve got you,” he professed, over and over again. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you, I swear it.”

And for once you let yourself believe it.

When your breathing finally slowed, you felt his arms move beneath you, one under your legs, the other steady at your back. He lifted you as if you weighed nothing at all, tucking you back into bed with a tenderness that made your chest throb all over again, but this time for a different reason entirely.

You blinked blearily at him, just in time to see him pick up something from the bedside table. A mug, steam curling faintly from the surface.

“Made you tea," he indicated. "Though it’s probably shit.”

You couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corner of your lips. It felt foreign on your face like it belonged to someone else.

“Thank you.”

He gave you a nod, awkward and a little unsure. Then he turned as if to leave, and you panicked at the sight. You reached out, not even grabbing him properly, just the ghost of your fingers brushing his wrist. Regardless, he stopped like you’d tethered him with chains. The expression on his face was hopeful, like a man on the edge of salvation. It was almost too much to bear.

“Will you stay?” 

For a second, he said nothing. You felt the fear rise, a tide ready to swallow you whole. Maybe you’d pushed too far. Maybe this was where he decided it wasn’t worth it after all.

But then, he nodded. His shoulders relaxed, eyes softening as if he couldn’t believe you wanted him here. That you chose him.

He sat beside you, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating through the space between you. Maybe it was the lingering adrenaline, or maybe it was the rawness still bleeding at the edges of your soul, but the confession spilled out before you could stop it.

“Thank you... I’m glad you came. I didn’t... I didn’t want to die. I was—”

Scared. You were scared. You had been terrified of dying alone, with no one to mourn you, with no one to even remember that you had existed. Just another blemish on the tapestry of the city. 

Before you could finish, Jason pulled you gently to him, your head finding the cradle of his shoulder like it had always belonged there. His arm wrapped securely around you, grounding you, steadying your breath. You closed your eyes, lulled by the beat of his heart beneath your cheek, the solid presence of him where the void had been.

And when you were just about to slip into sleep again, you felt it—or thought you did. The softest press of lips against your temple, so light it could’ve been a dream. All of tonight might as well have been a dream, one you never wanted to wake up from. 

But his words? Those were real. They etched themselves into your mind with a gravity that no dream could hold.

“I will never let anything happen to you ever again.”

[blu3n]

PEOPLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

UAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA UOOOF UOFFF

[airplanecrashingtowardstheground]

jason todd strikes me as a man with a jewelry kink. he didn't have one at first, then he saw his partner wearing a necklace he bought them and it wrinkled his brain. now he's buying every shiny thing he sees, he wants you dripping in gold, silver, rose gold he doesn't care. you're getting diamonds, rubies, pearls... jewels are all he wants to see you in, especially if he bought them for you