#jason todd headcanon

[fear-is-truth]

JASON TODD does not have a soft spot for you.

if anyone asked, that’s what he’d say. flat. absolute.

because he doesn’t.

doesn’t matter that he lets you get away with things that would have anyone else eating pavement. doesn’t matter that when you touch or poke or kiss or bite him, he does nothing to stop you—and when you do stop, there’s something almost like… disappointment.

he most definitely doesn’t go out of his way for you, either. doesn’t swing by that café you like just to bring you your favourite beverage. sure as hell doesn’t automatically search for your face when he enters a room full of people…

no. jason todd does not have a soft spot for you.

(he has a weak spot for you. a vulnerable spot. an achilles heel lodged just behind his sternum, nestled between his lungs—right where a bullet would do the most damage. but never a soft spot.)

[dollishmehrayan]

# “I BETTER WATCH MY FIVE FOOT TWO MOUTH? FIRST OF ALL” ── .✦ ( batboys w a short!reader ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ )

dollish note ⋆౨ৎ: as a girl who’s about 5’10-5’11 I might’ve fucked this up but we shall have hope and trustt && also I have about like a lot of inbox requests I need to get too so that’s that but this is in honor of my pookie @cup-of-doodles 🙂‍↕️ 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 ── .✦

"Fun-sized? More like FUN-UNSTOPPABLE."

Dick lives for the height difference. He’ll 100% rest his elbow on your head like you’re his personal armrest until you glare at him, and suddenly he’s apologizing with puppy eyes.

Picks you up constantly. Not always for a reason. Sometimes you’re just walking next to him and boom you’re airborne.

“Dick, what the hell put me down?!”

Jokes about getting you a “baby seat” for his car. You respond by threatening to hack the GPS and set it to only play the most annoying sound on loop.

When you try to kiss him and can’t reach, he dramatically gasps, crouches down, and says, “My bad, m’lady. How rude of me to be so tall.”

JASON TODD ── .✦

“Half my size, double the trouble.”

At first, he doesn’t comment on your height. Then one day, you can’t reach the top shelf, and he LOSES it.

“You want me to install a ladder here? Or...should I just carry you around on my shoulder?”

Loves how perfectly you fit into his side when he throws an arm around you. Calls you “pocket-sized rage” when you’re mad.

Teases you relentlessly but deadass threatens anyone who tries to make fun of you.

One time you tried to push him out of the way during an argument and he didn’t budge. You almost fell before he caught you but looked up at him, and he just went, “Gravity’s a bitch, huh?” “JASON PE-“

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

“Do you think if I put you in a hoodie, people would mistake you for a sack?”

Will absentmindedly hand you his coffee cup from the top shelf without realizing you can’t reach it.

You: “Tim, can you help?”

Tim, turning around: “Oh-oh my God, I’m so sorry.” (Immediately grabs it for you and then spends five minutes apologizing.)

You once climbed onto the counter to grab snacks and he caught you mid-typing something on his laptop. Stood there like: “Should I help or see how far you get?”

He finds it absolutely adorable when you wear his oversized hoodies. They drown you, and he’s obsessed.

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

“Tt. You are…compact. Efficient for battle.”

At first, he acted like your height was irrelevant. Then he caught you glaring at a shelf that was too high, and he silently handed you the item. No comment. But his smirk? Loud.

Calls you “miniature” during arguments. You kicked him in the shin once for it.

LOVES how easy it is to pick you up and physically move you when you’re in his way. You tried to fight back the first time but realized it was easier to just vibe.

Secretly thinks you’re the cutest thing on the planet but will deny it forever. The only time he slipped was when you fell asleep curled up on his lap, and he whispered, “You’re like a kitten.”, “What?” *cue damian acting clueless like huh?👁️👄👁️*

[takendruid]

Drew my self-insert sona with Jason :3

He’s a Gotham vigilante called Taken, but his real name is Nathan Evergreen.

He’s also a meta, but he’s kind of just a cryptid. Like Duke??? His meta ability doesn’t enhance his strength or speed, but he can teleport short distances (like side to side).

My name is not Nathan Evergreen… kind of obviously- it’s Edward Greenall, but Nathaniel is sometimes just a name I use if I don’t want people to know my real name. And Evergreen is kind of just a pun on my name?

I physically couldn’t make him look exactly like me because I’m aroace, and romance and sex repulsed, and the entire point of making Nathan was to draw Jason x me. But when I designed Nathan to look like myself, I physically couldn’t see him being in a relationship with Jason, I actually got so weirded out by it. So he looks like me if I looked cool.

[eveysnotebook]

Could you write about the sweetheart grips? Soldiers in ww2 used to put photos of their lovers on the grips of their guns and I think that would be cute with Jason.

That sounds so cute. I'm very pleased to be writing this.

Jason owns guns, lots of guns. Everyone who knows him knows that. What they don't know, is that he has a special gun that he uses mostly for patrol. He claims it's his lucky charm.

Most people wouldn't be able to see what made it so special, only you are aware of why it's his favorite.

In the handle, there’s a small cutout photo of you. Jason has said it’s his favorite.

Bloods been on it multiple times, but every time he cleans it off carefully as if it’s porcelain.

He might just start slipping more photos of you into the grips of his guns.

I really don’t like this 🙁 I did not write this as well as I wanted too

[strawberrymoosetracks]

So I just finished reading "The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde", first off: it is NOTHING like the musical but I love it just the same. The book doesn't come right out the gate with telling the audience that Jekyll and Hyde are the same person, but knowing the twist from the start just makes some earlier dialogue funny(even when it really shouldn't be). It's a good read, and there is an abridged audio book narrated by Christopher Lee, and he brings the world to life.

The second thing was that(as I am in the trenches of a batfam obsession) it reminds me of the whole concept of Jason's 'pit madness' that is featured in many fics. Just the whole concept that a magic liquid has permanently altered a person into the personification of their evil attributes, while the other person, at first indulges the evil side, but slowly becomes intrenched in it, unable to control the more violent side. I think that since Jason is a reader, notably of classic literature, he would be familiar with the book or one of it's many movie/musical adaptations. I feel like that part of him isn't referenced enough, like there is only passing mention of how Jason reads. Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde would be a perfect book to reference throughout a Jason Todd/Red Hood fic.

Like maybe it is a book he read before he died and he is seeing how Jekyll felt. He understands the urge to quench the insatiable urge for vengance, and is cautious towards it, trying to not get so roped in like Jekyll had. Maybe he started reading it before and it was the first book he got after coming back to Gotham. He is still learning the story as he lives the double life, getting too entrenched in his 'double life' by the time he reads the end. Maybe he hadn’t read it at all, and it was the first thing he picked up. He gets to see the mystery unfold through his new eyes. He reads the words, perhaps comparing the characters to people in real life. By the end he sees himself in Jekyll/Hyde, and the resemblance is uncomfortable. He sees where it led Jekyll and he wishes to do better. Or maybe it pushes him to the same fate as Jekyll.

Just a thought...

[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"

[god-help-me-pls]

u guys don’t understand how much how small jason was as robin means to me,,, he was tiny,,, his ass was NOT physically fit i tell u,,,

little guy really was little

[strange-birb]

Had to when I saw the quote lol

I love Jason sm 😂

Og post @batfam-imagines

[allllium]

Jason's love language is 100% touch

I don't care what anyone says I know this man has been craving a nice cuddle under a warm blanket for so long

At first he'll put firm boundaries in place, asking you not to touch him in any intimate way, not unless he initiates it

Which makes total sense considering everything he's been through, all the scars on his body that makes him sick to touch

But over time, surprisingly not a long time, he warms up to your touch and even finds himself craving it

It starts small with an arm around your waist and a warm hand placed in yours, but it quickly turns more intimate

Something he never thought he'd have is suddenly there whenever he wants and he doesn't know how to feel about it

He gets more comfortable with things he never thought would be so nice

He lays his head in your lap as you lay on the couch watching TV, showing a kind of vulnerability neither of you ever expected

He starts sleeping without his shirt on and continuously pulls you closer to him

He almost always has a hand on you now

Now that he's comfortable he's not even gonna think twice before keeping his arm around you or laying his hand comfortably on your thigh

He can't even begin to understand why he feels the happiest he's ever been when you do something as simple as playing with his hair or placing your lips to one of his many scars

Safe to say once he gets to this stage, there's no way to go back

p.s he will totally pout the entire day if you lean away from his touch

[peachesandfictionalmen]

Best friends to lovers with Jason Todd is so swoon worthy.

Like getting close to this man that hardly trusts anyone? Jason is so friends to lovers coded it's crazy.

This bitch is the type to cook you meals while you sit on the counter, doesn't matter who's apartment your in.

Finding him curled up on your couch because he was distressed after patrol and when he got there you were already asleep. Him staying anyway because your smell comforts him? I'm fucking deceased.

Falling asleep casually draped over each other while watching a movie. Him massaging the leg you have draped over his lap because he needs something to do with his hands.

This man is so awkward when it comes to crushing too. Like sure he can be smooth with the ladies, but being around someone he's in love with? Please. I swear he'd go as far as practically acting like your boyfriend. He'd be bringing you your favorite snacks, taking you on bike rides, helping you clean your apartment, going out to eat with you, all the while trying to act like he doesn't blush when you smile at him, because there's no way you'd like him back, right?

He'd be so confused if you started trying to drop hints too, like oh, your just wearing his jacket because your cold. His favorite hoodie is definitely not at your place. You just like rubbing his shoulders because you know how tight his muscles get and feel bad for him, no other reason. You only keep his favorite tea at your place because it's convenient, right?

I think you could wave a sign at this man that says 'I LOVE YOU, PLEASE KISS ME' and he'd suddenly become illiterate.

There'd be so many awkward, blushing, almost severely intimate moments too. The cuddles and brushes in the kitchen, hanging on too tight when he takes a turn on his bike, him brushing the hair out of your face, him watching as you put on makeup or are focused on something.

One day, while he's cooking and your sitting on the counter talking, you just get fed up with dropping hints and when he turns and is standing next to your spot on the counter, you just grab him. You just grasp his cheek gently and pull him in for a kiss, he's so stunned he doesn't respond right away. You pull away, half panicking, thinking you actually read him wrong and he finally blinks, cupping your cheeks in his hands and pulling you in to kiss you for real because, finally.

[eyeheartboobiez]

nicknames that bruce + the batboys would call you

warnings: sexual themes in jason’s part, fem!reader a/n: just sumn slight. enjoy😁

⁎⁺˳ 𝒷𝓇𝓊𝒸𝑒 ミ

❀ bruce grew up wealthy so he would definitely call you something more on the classy side

❀ things like darling, angel, dear, my love, etc.

❀ he also has a habit of referring to you as “my wife” (because he’s possessive asf)

❀ “sorry guys, i really can’t stay for another drink. i’ve got to get back to my wife.”

❀ “you said these shoes were dior? oh, im sure my wife would love these.”

❀ on the flip side, he also really likes referring to himself as your husband (one might say he does it for the ego boost)

❀ like whenever you too are meeting someone for the first time, he'll introduce you first and then only introduce himself as "your husband"

❀ because why should someone care about him, a mega rich billionaire, when his lovely and radiant wife is standing right next to him?

⁎⁺˳ 𝒹𝒾𝒸𝓀 ミ

❀ dick would definitely be the type to call you something super lovey-dovey and over the top

❀ sugarplum, honey bunches, buttercup, (and if he really wants to get on your nerves,) shnookums

❀ he knows it’s lame, but he genuinely doesn’t care

❀ since his love language is acts of service, you tend to hear a lot of "let me get that for ya, honeybun"

❀ or something like “hey sugarplum! im on my way home from work, you want me to pick up anything?”

❀ or even "don't worry about dinner honeylove, lemme take care of things tonight."

❀ regardless of how annoying it is, you can't help but love his teasing nicknames for you

❀ like you two are that annoying couple that everyone loves can't stand seeing at the function (i know valentine's day hatesss to see yall coming)

❀ off topic but if the two of you had a kid together, i imagine him nicknaming your daughter ‘love bug’ (AWWW)

⁎⁺˳ 𝒿𝒶𝓈𝑜𝓃 ミ

❀ despite his thick exterior, jason’s a lover boy at heart

❀ he’d call you stuff like babe, doll, sweetheart, hon, y’know all that cheesy stuff

❀ most importantly though, this boy lovesss to call you mama

❀ like for example, he usually likes to greet you with a casual "hey mama, you doin okay?" followed by a quick peck on the check

❀ or if you're being goofy trying to get him to feel better, he'll probably say something like "c'mon mama, cut it out" as a smile inevitably blossoms on his face

❀ alongside this, he also has a weird kink thing for calling himself papa

❀ either “thatsss it sweetheart, come to papa” or “let papa bear handle it, ‘kay? you just sit down there and look pretty f’me.”

❀ you have absolutely no idea where he got it from because jason swears up and down that he's never done it until he got in a relationship with you

⁎⁺˳ 𝓉𝒾𝓂 ミ

❀ while tim is such a sweetheart, so his pet names for you would most definitely reflect that

❀ sweets, pretty, baby love, cutie; simple stuff like that

❀ also, let’s not forget that this boy is a certified LEWSER, so that also shows within you guys’ relationship

❀ he sometimes calls you pookie (he’s chronically online…)

❀ he'd probably be up texting you at 2am (because why wouldn’t be be up at that time) and is like “hey pooks u wanna check out this new italian place i found? i saw that they serve a few of ur faves”

❀ he also has a nasty habit of referring to you as dude or bro

❀ you'll often get random tiktoks from him throughout the day like "bro look this is totally us" or "me & u fr🥹"

❀ sure it's corny but the sentiment is sweet so you don't really mind

❀ a lot of people think the relationship you both have may be a bit odd, but neither of you care (and that's all that matters <3)

[rosaeh]

jason todd stares at people. whether it's consciously or not.

he does stares at people to intimidate them, get them to do what he wants, and reveal what they know. even when he wears the helmet, his stares are so intense that the thugs can feel it pierce through. it scares them even more to wonder how deadly his gaze must be without it.

he stares at his siblings too, to read them, to try to figure out if they are lying to him or not. dick is always uneasy under jason's scrutinising eyes and the depths of their green. jason almost always get what he wants out of a single stare with them.

yet, when it comes to you, it's often unconsciously that he stares. he often founds himself smitten by just the sight of you. the way you look at him always get him, and he cannot help but keep staring at you as the only thing ever.

you never feel uncomfortable under his gaze, though. the green of his eyes, a colour you've learnt to know, and started to fall for the second they landed on you.

you do, however, find yourself fidgeting and squirming when he consciously stares at you. as if he could read you, -he can. you could reveal your most embarrassing secrets for that stare of his. but unlike the thugs he deals with on a daily basis, his gaze his not deadly for you, but more fond. even when he is staring to catch your -whites- lies.

lying to him. as if he didn't know you. you would deny being in need of something, and he would just stare at you, the way his brow raise indicating the lack of anger, and more showing how he doesn't quite believe you. and God knows you would cave in -you always do-, not helping the small smile on your face as you dare look into his eyes, and just admit everything to him.

and oh, how he would smile at that. to know how much he is able to read your body language ? how much he is just able to get you ? he loves it. craves it even. and he loves to know you let him get you like that. that you willingly let yourself in the open for him, that you let him see you.

but more often than not, he just stares at you for the sake of it.

[orchidsarchives]

Jason is a chronic biter. Whether it’s his lips, the insides of cheeks, or the strings of his hoodie, he is constantly gnawing on something.

This habit was usually not a problem. In fact, it was almost endearing, it was a cute and boyish quirk. However, this was until he decided that his body and his things didn’t suffice anymore. Suddenly, he found himself itching to get his teeth on you.

It had started off very slow, almost as if he was testing the waters. The two of you were sitting on the old couch together, watching the latest episode of one of your shows. Jason was mindlessly playing with your fingers, as he usually did, but this time, there was a mischievous look in his eyes. He kissed your knuckle and you smiled, without giving it too much thought—accidentally giving him the confirmation to keep going. The next thing you felt were his teeth clamping down on your finger, hard. You jolted and looked up at him confused. Jason grinned, almost confidently and you laughed at his childish antics.

Then, there was an another time where he felt a little bolder. You had been in the kitchen washing the dishes after Jason had made dinner. You were in your own world, cleaning, when he came up behind you. Jason pulled you into a warm embrace and you found yourself melting into his touch. You stayed there for a few seconds, just gently swaying and enjoying his company. What you thought was Jason bending down to kiss your exposed shoulder, turned out to be a firm chomp on your skin. You whined, annoyed, but let him do this thing.

This habit wasn’t all that irritating though. There were often times when the two of you were preoccupied with each other. There were many, late nights where his lips would not leave your skin. During those times, the gentle grazes of his teeth set fire to your skin, it felt pleasant in an odd sort of way. The feeling would have you sighing blissfully. The tenderness caused your body to burn with excitement. His bites were almost always followed up with a kiss to soothe the deliciously painful sensation. Those moments had you grateful for his ridiculous way of showing affection.

Jason had a weird biting habit and you weren’t sure if you found it completely insufferable or just purely indulgent….

[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.

[kateswallofweird]

JASON TODD IS THE TYPE OF BOYFRIEND TO . . .

cw angst ish fluff ish, mugging, implied physical fighting, forgetting to eat

jason todd would let the world burn for you, but for now, he settles on loving you with all he has.

the echoes of your recent argument still ring loudly in your mind (it was something trivial, it always is), but you're grateful when jason drops down from the fire escape, coming between you and the poor muggers who'd chosen wrong tonight. despite his helmet and the domino mask covering his eyes, you can feel the anger washing over him in waves. he doesn't turn to you, but you avert your eyes and when you find him again, red stains his leather jacket and his gun is holstered at his side again. behind him, the men are bloodied and unconscious. "i didn't think—" you started, but he scoffed (not coldly, but like he knew what you'd say). "even if we're fighting," he answers your unasked question. even if we're fighting i will be there for you, and it's a quiet reminder that his love always supersedes his anger.

grumbling under his breath as you continue to work on your laptop, jason nudges a plate of food to you. it's warm and smells like heaven, and when you glance at the clock, you realize the time. it's late, and you've forgotten to take care of yourself amidst all the work you'd been doing. jason sets down utensils in front of you and a glass of water before taking your laptop and setting it down elsewhere. "eat," he says softly. "you can't work if you're not capable." he doesn't have to say it outright, you can hear the worry in his voice and you know what he means. i care for you is whispered through the hot meal he spent the last hour and a half making for you.

in the quiet of the night (or as quiet as gotham gets), jason slips in through your bedroom window. he locks it behind him and sheds his uniform—his helmet, leather jacket, and finally his armor. he leaves it in the corner so you don't trip over it when you get up, and he makes sure to wash up before slipping into bed. still, the faint smell of cigarettes, cologne, and gunpowder linger. he smiles when you curl into his touch, relief settling in his bones as he presses a kiss to your forehead. he doesn't have to speak because even in your sleepy stupor you know what he's saying, i love you.

the red hood may be a terror to the streets, but to you, jason todd was home. he was warmth, like sunlight on a cold day, solace in a storm. a heart that was once dead now beat to love you, and yours did the same.

💭 tbh i've never read any dc comics so my characterization of jason todd is from other fanfics

[ahqkas]

Can you please write dumb/subtle/random/cute things batboys will do while they are crushing on reader?

♯ FEEL YOUR LIPS CRUSH . . .

— gn!reader, fluff

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

BRUCE WAYNE

becomes overly observant but awkwardly obvious

bruce wayne is a master of observation—trained to notice the smallest details in a room, a person, or a crime scene. but when it comes to you, this skill becomes more of a curse than a blessing. his crush transforms his usual precision into something downright awkward as he hyper-focuses on the tiniest parts of your life.

it starts innocently enough. you’ll be in the middle of a casual conversation when bruce interrupts, his deep voice breaking through your train of thought.

“you’ve switched your coffee order recently,” he says matter-of-factly, his piercing blue eyes locking on yours.

you blink, momentarily confused. “uh, yeah. i wanted to try something different.”

“it’s good,” he replies, his tone completely serious, as if your new preference for caramel flavored coffee over vanilla is a critical observation.

sometimes his comments catch you so off guard that you don’t even know how to respond. like the time you came into the room wearing a pair of old sneakers. bruce, who was leaning against the kitchen counter sipping his coffee, glanced down and said, “those laces are frayed. you should replace them.”

you laughed nervously, unsure if he was joking. “uh, thanks for the tip?”

but bruce wasn’t joking. “i’ll send alfred to pick up new ones. you don’t want them snapping mid-step.”

he tries to play it cool, he really does, but his constant streak of seemingly random observations only makes his feelings more obvious. one afternoon, you find him glancing at your notebook while you jot something down. without even looking at you, he says, “you press harder with the pen when you’re tired. your handwriting’s smaller today.”

you set your pen down, giving him a skeptical look. “do you . . . keep track of my handwriting, bruce?”

his face doesn’t change, though you swear his ears flush the faintest shade of pink. “no,” he says smoothly, taking a sip of his coffee. “it’s just. . . noticeable.”

it’s the way he says it—quiet and genuine—that sends your heart fluttering. he doesn’t realize how much he’s revealing, but his small, awkward comments and laser focus on the details of your life make it abundantly clear.

the funny thing is, you’re not the only one noticing. alfred, who’s known bruce wayne longer than anyone, often raises an eyebrow or hides a knowing smirk whenever bruce starts one of his “random” observations.

( “perhaps master wayne should focus on his own handwriting.” bruce glares at alfred, but his lack of a comment only makes the butler’s smirk grow wider. )

finds excuses to be helpful

bruce’s wealth is something he wields with the subtlety of a battering ram when he’s crushing on someone. his intentions are good—he genuinely wants to help—but it often comes off as over-the-top or hilariously unnecessary. for someone as logical and composed as the bat, using his money to make your life easier feels like a no-brainer, but he doesn’t realize just how obvious it makes his feelings.

it starts small at first. you might casually mention needing to replace something—your laptop is acting up or your phone is outdated. the next day, without fail, a box will mysteriously appear at your doorstep. inside, you’ll find not just a replacement but the absolute best version of the device, meticulously selected and clearly expensive.

“bruce,” you say, holding up the latest model of a WE laptop you can’t imagine ever affording on your own. “did you do this?”

he looks up from his work, his expression calm and unbothered. “it’s practical,” he says, as if that’s a reasonable excuse for gifting you a piece of technology worth more than your rent. “your old one was slow. it’s inefficient to struggle with outdated equipment.”

when you try to protest, he waves it off, as though spending thousands of dollars on you is no more different than buying a cup of coffee.

but it doesn’t stop there. one morning, you’re sitting in the kitchen with him, absently complaining about how your car keeps breaking down. it’s an offhanded comment, something you don’t think twice about, but bruce takes it as a challenge. by the time you’ve finished your coffee, he’s already pulled out his phone to make arrangements.

“wait,” you interrupt him, narrowing your eyes as you catch him murmuring something to alfred over the phone. “what are you doing?”

“nothing,” he replies too quickly, but later that day, you’re startled to find a sleek new car parked outside your home, the keys and a handwritten note from the butler sitting on your counter.

“bruce!” you exclaim, storming into the study to confront him.

he doesn’t even look up from his computer. “your old car was unreliable. this one is safer.”

“that’s not the point!”

“it’s just a car,” he says with a small shrug, though there’s a hint of amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth.

despite his attitude, it’s clear he’s putting an incredible amount of thought into everything he does for you. his gestures are less about showing off his wealth and more about making sure you never have to struggle, even in the smallest ways. because to him, it’s just logical—he has the resources, so why wouldn’t he use them to make your life easier?

DICK GRAYSON

finds excuses to touch you

for someone as physically expressive as dick grayson, touch comes as naturally as breathing—but when he’s crushing on you, it’s a whole new level. he’s not even aware of how much he does it at first, but the moments start to add up. it’s little things at first: the way he always seems to find a reason to brush his hand against yours, the casual way his shoulder bumps into you when you’re walking side by side, or the way he’ll lean close when he’s explaining something, his hand ghosting over yours as he gestures.

but then, it becomes less about the accidental and more about the intentional. when you’re sitting on the couch together, he’ll sling an arm over the back of it, his fingers close enough to brush against your shoulder. he’ll offer his hand when you’re stepping out of a car or climbing over something, even if you don’t need it, the contact lingers just a second longer than necessary.

“careful,” he’ll say, his voice soft and teasing, even though the step you’re taking isn’t remotely precarious.

“you know i can walk, right?”

he grins, squeezing your hand briefly before letting it go. “just being chivalrous.”

and then, there are the moments when he gets so wrapped up in the conversation or your presence that he doesn’t even realize what he’s doing. like the time you were sitting together, and he absentmindedly started playing with the hem of your sleeve. it wasn’t until you cleared your throat that he looked down, startled, his ears turning pink as he quickly let go.

“sorry,” he mumbled, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “didn’t realize i was doing that.”

but the blush on his cheeks told you everything you needed to know.

for dick, touch is a way of expressing what words sometimes fail to say. every hand on your shoulder, every playful nudge, and every lingering hug is his way of saying, i like being near you. i like you. even if he hasn’t quite found the courage to say it out loud, his actions make it impossible to miss.

teases you relentlessly (but gets flustered when you tease him back)

teasing is how dick shows affection, how he keeps things light, and, more than anything, how he tries to get your attention. when he’s crushing on you, though, his teasing takes on a new level. every little thing you do seems to give him material to poke fun at, not in a mean way, but in a way that makes it clear he’s paying attention to everything about you.

if you trip over a word while talking, he’ll immediately smirk. “careful there, shakespeare,” he’ll quip. “do we need to enroll you in a public speaking class?” or if you drop something, he’s ready with a dramatic gasp. “wow, butterfingers, do you need me to carry everything for you? i could be your personal assistant, but i charge by the hour.”

it’s playful, yes, but it’s also consistent. he’s always looking for ways to make you laugh, even if it’s at your own expense. like the time you were struggling to open a stubborn jar of jam, and he swooped in, popping the lid off with ease.

“guess i’m just the stronger one here,” he said, flexing his biceps with an exaggerated grin. “it’s okay; not everyone can have these guns.”

but if you so much as raise an eyebrow or fire back with your own jab, the tables turn in an instant. one day, after he’d spent a full five minutes teasing you about your choice of coffee ( “a triple-shot vanilla latte with almond milk? fancy. are you sure you don’t need a royal escort to carry it for you?” ), you finally snapped back.

“oh, and i suppose you’re the coffee expert, mr. regular black coffee? real creative. i bet the baristas have your order memorized.”

the grin on his face faltered for a split second, his eyes widening just slightly. then came the blush—the faint pink hue creeping up his cheeks as he tried to recover, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

“hey, black coffee is . . . classic,” he mumbled, suddenly unable to meet your gaze.

and that’s the thing about dick grayson: as much as he loves dishing it out, he can’t always handle it when it’s directed at him. the moment you tease him back, especially if it’s about something he’s sensitive about (like his perfectly styled hair or his need to one-up everyone), he turns into an awkward, flustered mess.

“you spend how long on your hair every morning?” you asked him once, teasingly ruffling his carefully combed locks after he made fun of the mismatched socks you were wearing.

he froze, his hand shooting up to fix the damage. “it’s not that long,” he protested, his voice defensive but light.

“oh, come on! i bet you use at least three different products. don’t tell me you don’t have a favorite brand of gel.”

his cheeks flushed crimson as he stammered, “i—you know, it’s just . . . maintenance! can’t all of us roll out of bed looking flawless, okay?”

you laughed, and he groaned, muttering something under his breath about how you were “way too good at this.”

JASON TODD

acts nonchalant but is always nearby

jason todd is many things—brash, sarcastic, sometimes even reckless—but when it comes to feelings he doesn’t fully understand, he defaults to keeping his distance . . . or at least pretending he’s keeping his distance. the truth is, when he’s crushing on you, he’s drawn to you like a moth to a flame, always finding an excuse to be wherever you are without making it obvious. or so he thinks.

take your quiet sunday afternoons, for instance. maybe you’ve settled on the couch with a book, enjoying the rare peace. jason walks in, all nonchalant, like he’s just passing through. he glances at you—just a quick flick of his eyes, like he’s making sure you’re still there—and then he settles in the chair across from you, a spot he never uses otherwise.

“what are you doing?” you ask, watching as he pulls out a book of his own, the same one he’s been pretending to read for weeks.

he doesn’t even look up. “reading.”

you roll your eyes but say nothing, knowing full well he’s barely getting through a page. you can feel his gaze on you every few minutes, like he’s trying to memorize the way your brow furrows in concentration or how you chew on the corner of your lip when you’re focused. and if you catch him? he quickly snaps his attention back to his book, pretending obliviousness.

“didn’t know you liked this spot so much,” you tease, gesturing to the chair.

a smirk plays on the edge of his lips, though there’s a flicker of defensiveness in his eyes. “what, i can’t sit here now? thought it was a free country.”

it’s always like that—his attempts to mask how much he cares come with a side of sarcasm. but the truth slips through in the little details. like how he never actually leaves the room until you do. or how, even when you’re sitting in silence, he finds a reason to linger. maybe he’s scrolling through his phone, flipping through a magazine, or staring at the ceiling like he’s deep in thought. but really, he’s just soaking in your presence.

and then there are the times when he doesn’t even bother pretending. like when you’re sitting in the kitchen, finishing up some work, and he wordlessly sits down across from you, arms crossed and chin propped in his hand.

“what?” you ask, glancing up at him.

“nothing,” he replies, though the slight curve of his lips gives him away.

it’s not that jason is afraid to admit he likes you ( although there is a possibility he is but we don’t talk about that )—it’s just that he doesn’t know how. so instead, he hovers. he sticks close enough to feel like he’s part of your world but not so close that he risks giving himself away. so while he might act nonchalant, the truth is, he’s anything but. every glance, every lingering moment, every excuse to be near you is jason’s way of saying he cares—he just hasn’t found the words yet.

fixes things you didn’t even know were broken

jason’s way of showing he cares is a little unconventional, but it’s always in the small, unspoken ways. he’s the type to notice things that no one else would—things that have been lingering for ages in the background of your life, just waiting for someone to fix them. but because it’s jason, he’ll never bring it up. he’ll just do it, no questions asked, and then act like it never happened.

it starts with the little things. your chair in the living room? it’s been squeaking for months now, but it’s not something you’ve gotten around to fixing. it’s one of those annoyances you’ve learned to ignore, a piece of background noise that doesn’t really bother you enough to take action.

until one day, it suddenly stops.

you sit down in the chair, and for the first time in ages, it’s silent. your eyes narrow. you didn’t fix this—so who did?

“jason?” you ask, glancing toward him as he lounges on the couch, pretending to be deep in whatever he’s doing.

he doesn’t even look up. “what?”

“the chair. it’s. . . quiet now.”

he pauses for just a moment, but it’s enough to catch the shift in his demeanor. he shrugs, barely concealing the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “must’ve gotten lucky. or maybe it fixed itself.”

you know it didn’t. but before you can press him on it, he’s already back to whatever he was doing, like the whole thing is no big deal. it’s almost as if he’s trying to play it off, hoping you won’t notice that he’s been quietly fixing things in your life, one at a time.

the next thing happens a few days later. you walk into the kitchen, only to find that the light above the sink, the one that flickers every time you try to use it, is now working. perfectly.

you stop, standing in the doorway and just staring at it. there’s no way you fixed it. and it certainly wasn’t broken enough to need replacing. so once again, you turn your gaze to jason, who’s now sitting at the kitchen table, eating a snack and acting entirely uninterested in your investigation.

“jason, did you—?”

“no,” he interrupts and continues watching the video essay he turns on every time he eats.

“uh-huh,” you say, narrowing your eyes, walking toward the light and testing the switch again just to make sure you’re not imagining things. it stays steady, glowing without hesitation.

he’ll never say it out loud, but each fix—each thoughtful act—speaks louder than any words could. the broken things don’t matter, because jason is here, fixing them in his own way, piece by piece.

TIM DRAKE

gets shy when you’re too close

tim drake is usually the picture of composure. he’s calm, collected, and can handle himself in just about any situation, but when you’re too close, all that confidence seems to slip away. it starts small. you’re sitting beside him, maybe sharing a space while working on something, and without thinking, you slide just a little bit closer to him. maybe your arm brushes against his, or your knee nudges his under the table.

it’s enough to throw him off, just for a second. his heart rate picks up slightly, and he tries to hide it behind the screen of his laptop, pretending to focus harder than he really is. but he knows, deep down, that he’s hyperaware of you now—of the way you’re sitting, of the way your presence seems to fill the space between the two of you.

his eyes flicker toward you, but quickly dart away, like he’s afraid you caught him staring. it’s an involuntary reaction, the nervous little shift in his posture as he tries to seem as casual as possible. he clears his throat, his voice slightly quieter than usual. “uh, sorry, was just—just making sure the laptop was charging.”

it’s obvious to you that he’s not really talking about the laptop. he’s trying to act like it’s no big deal, but every time you’re too close to him, tim’s body betrays him. the way his leg shifts a little away from yours under the table, or how he tries to subtly angle his body so there’s just a little more space between you and him, even if he doesn’t want there to be.

you might not notice the subtle movements, but tim does. and every time you get close to him, whether it’s by accident or on purpose, he feels a flutter of nerves that he can’t quite explain. it’s not that he doesn’t want you near him—far from it—but the proximity messes with him in ways he doesn’t understand. his thoughts get jumbled, and his usual calmness slips, replaced by the flustered feeling he’s not used to.

if you ever catch him looking at you, his gaze quickly drops, and a soft blush creeps up his neck. “i—i didn’t mean to—uh, just making sure you’re not too cramped.” he mutters, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of his laptop, anything to distract himself from the fact that he’s suddenly very aware of you being so close.

sometimes, when you get too near, tim will just freeze for a moment. it’s like his body can’t process the closeness, and the little awkward silence stretches between you two. it’s not uncomfortable—far from it—but it’s a vulnerable thing for tim, this closeness he doesn’t know how to handle.

but if you keep talking, or even just touch his arm gently when you lean over to look at something, tim’s composure slips even more. he shifts in his seat, trying to act like he’s calm, but his hand might twitch toward yours for just a second before he pulls it away like he’s afraid you’ll notice how he’s reacting.

follows you around during patrol

it’s late at night, the moon casting faint silver light across the streets, and the only sounds are the hum of city life and the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind. you’re out on a walk, maybe trying to clear your head or just enjoy the quiet, unaware that someone is watching you from the shadows. tim, clad in his suit, has been tailing you for a while now. it’s not that he’s trying to be creepy or intrusive, but rather, he’s just . . . concerned.

tim is the kind of person who can’t turn off his instincts, and tonight, for whatever reason, they’re telling him to stay close. he’s perched high above you on a rooftop, watching you walk along the street below, trying to remain unseen. his red robin suit blends into the darkness of the night, the shadows making him nearly invisible to anyone who might be looking.

he’s not sure why he’s doing it—it’s not like you’ve asked him to keep an eye on you—but there’s something about the quiet stillness of the night that has him on edge. maybe it’s because you’ve been a little distant lately, or maybe he’s just worried something might happen to you in the dark. either way, he’s got his eyes on you, and he won’t stop until you’re safely back where you belong.

he’s quick, agile, moving like a shadow himself. you might hear a faint creak of a fire escape ladder or the flurry of footsteps just out of your line of sight, but when you look, there’s nothing there—just the empty street, the soft glow of streetlights, and the ever-present hum of the city.

it’s when you stop for a moment, distracted by something—maybe you’re checking your phone or admiring a nearby storefront—that he’s closest. in that moment, tim takes a chance, moving closer to you, just a few feet away in the darkened alley. he’s not trying to startle you, but there’s something in his gut that tells him he can’t let you out of his sight, especially when it’s this late, and the streets feel a little emptier than usual.

he’ll hover just out of view, giving you space but never quite leaving you alone. if you keep walking, he follows, keeping his distance but staying close enough to ensure you’re safe. when you stop at a crosswalk or glance around, he’s already a few rooftops away, peering down at you from above, making sure you’re not being followed.

the closer you get to home, the more relaxed tim feels, but he never lets his guard down entirely. even when you reach the safety of your doorstep, he lingers just out of sight, making sure you get inside without any issues. he’ll remain in the shadows for a moment longer, watching as you lock the door behind you, ensuring you’re safe before finally letting out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

only then does he disappear into the night, his heart still racing, his mind replaying the images of your walk. he’ll retreat to his hidden vantage point, slipping into the dark corners of gotham once more, but the small weight of relief that you’re safe settles deep in his chest. even though he doesn’t want to admit it, there’s a part of him that feels content knowing you’re okay—even if you’ll never know how closely he’s watched over you.