#jason todd oneshot
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cipheress-to-k-pop · 9 months ago
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bluetooth j.t.
Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader
Warnings: A little suggestive if you squint
Word Count: 1.2k words
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You don't know how you allowed yourself to get manipulated into being a girlboss and moving out of your childhood home to live in your own apartment. While it was nice to have your own privacy and decorate your home however you liked, you realized just how many privileges you lost now that you weren't in the care of your parents.
There was no one there to make sure you woke up on time in the few cases where you slept through your alarm, no one that you could call on your way back from work to ask to switch on the water heater so you could take a steamy shower immediately.
You didn't have your mother's homecooked meals and you didn't have your father to pick you up snacks from the grocery store.
And one of the biggest thorns in your side was the reason you were dreading the entire day. Car maintenance. The auto shop was one of the most daunting places in your life as a girl who knew nothing about cars. Never once had you regretted not learning how to take care of your car or even the procedure required when you eventually take your car down to the auto shop.
But now standing in the hot and dusty garage, you were seriously rethinking your life choices. You should've scheduled these things for when your dad was visiting so you could ask him to take it instead. Or, even better, you should've gotten a boyfriend.
You were complaining in your head, dragging your feet about having to be here in the first place and whined about handing your car keys, with a bunch of adorable keychains attached to some rando.
But when Jason Todd, 6'2 man with biceps that were larger than your own head and a body that looked like he was shaped out of marble by Michelangelo himself walked out with a form for you to fill out, you were all too happy to be there.
Perhaps you'd be leaving here with a boyfriend after all.
"I have to admit, I don't really know much about cars so please don't scam me."
Jason chuckled, a deep, hoarse laugh that made you a little weak in the knees honestly and the boy-crazed fraction of your brain began to imagine how he would sound as soon as he woke up next to you, after a night of—
"A bit of advice, you probably don't want to let scammers know that you have no idea what they're talking about."
You giggled, scolding yourself mentally for finding that funny.
'Come on, (Y/N), pull yourself together it wasn't even that funny. His face is just great delivery.'
"Or I could keep coming here and have you check my car, since you're so trustworthy." You mused, sparing him a teasing smile.
Jason was completely picking up what you were putting down, giving you a coy smile of his own before responding, "Or perhaps this is just a tactic to get you to keep coming back."
You narrowed your eyes playfully, "Devious."
Looking back at his little clipboard, a thin metal rod of some kind tucked behind his ear instead of a pen, Jason asked, "When was the last time you got your car checked out? If your battery and brake pad was replaced recently, we could probably skip that and just do a routine check to make sure everything's running smoothly."
You winced, "I couldn't tell you, honestly. My dad usually handles this kinda stuff for me, I'm still kind of a new lamb when it comes to taking care of my car."
Jason raised his eyes from the clipboard for a second, "Your boyfriend can't do this kinda stuff for you instead?"
"I don't have a boyfriend."
He perked up immediately and you ducked your head to hide your smile, "I'm sure you probably have a record of it in your glovebox or something. Most places keep a little sticker with the date of your last service under the dash. I'll check it out for you, do you have somewhere to be, or do you have a couple minutes so I can make sure?"
You shook your head, shrugging your shoulders with a carefree smile, "It's my day off so I'm free as a bird."
He grinned, "Noted. Just give me a second."
You watched his back receding as he walked toward your car, shoulders looking like they could span the entire ocean and it was only when he was sat in the car and had turned on the engine did you whip out your phone at lightspeed.
"Ohmygosh Julie, I think I just met my future husband. Holy shit. He's so cute—gorgeous actually. He's working on my car right now and God, those arms, wow. And those eyes? God, I feel blessed just by looking at his face." The end of your message was interrupted by another mechanic running the engine.
You waited patiently for the sound of the engine to die before replaying the voice message so you could re-record the part that got cut off. Only you couldn't hear a thing.
Confused, you increased the volume, taking a sip from your coffee to soothe the inhumane squeal that you had let out while sending Julie the voice message. Once again you heard nothing.
You bit your lip at this, swiping down at the corner of your phone at access your control center and realizing the reason you couldn't hear anything was because it was connected to the Bluetooth on your car.
Wait.
THE CAR?!
You whipped around in horror only to find Jason smirking at you from the front seat of your car. If the world were fair, you'd be struck down with lightning right then and there. Or, since you were at an auto shop, a sentient car might run you over.
Alas, you continued to stand there in horror, completely unharmed no matter how badly you wished to be reduced to a puddle on the ground.
You called him your future husband. The ground should've swallowed you then and there. Instead, you just stood there in complete mortification and embarrassment while you stared at his amused expression.
Something startled him out of his gaze for a second and he pointed at your console, making a gesture like he was taking a call. Confused, you glanced at your phone.
'Incoming call: Julie'
Ah, saved by the bell.
*
"How much do I owe you?" You asked, quickly popping open your purse to fish out your credit card. You had stretched out the conversation with Julie as long as possible, begging her not to hang up and only interrupting her tangent when Jason finally came up to you, saying that your car was good to go.
"It's on the house." He gave you a charming grin, leaning an arm against the counter, "Can't have my future wife paying for anything, can I?"
Your cheeks flared red, still holding out your card for him to take, "O-Oh, I couldn't, really."
"If you insist, then you can always repay me with dinner. Today's your day off, right? Think you can pencil me in for 7?"
A shy smile grew on your face, your body so warm you had to resist fanning your burning cheeks, "Sounds like a plan."
Forever Taglist:
@simonsbluee
@notslaybabes
@superheroesaremyjam113263
@writers-whirlwind
DC Taglist:
@emmacata
@p--e--a--c--h--e--s
@sometimeseverythingsucks
@sokkas-honour
@unstable1902
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@isawachickeninatree
@uxavity
@battlenix
@capricorn-stark
@evermoore580
@dumbbitchgalore
@fuckingjinkies
@some-lovely-day
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glamourscat · 26 days ago
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MISTLETOE | jason todd x reader
oneshot | just jason being a bad liar | inspired by one of my hcs
words: 484
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“Todd, you’re ignoring me” you say, your voice is calm but with a little edge, as you walk towards him. It’s new year, he had dragged you to the manor for the new year’s gala, which neither of you wanted to attend to begin with, but still here you are. With your best friend being weird the whole night; you chasing him the whole night.
And now finally alone, you managed to catch him outside on the balcony of the third floor of Bruce’s manor in the dead of winter.
“No, i am not” he huffs out, his eyes locked to the city lights in the distance.
The cold is pungent and fairly speaking, too strong. But he doesn’t care, he needs a distraction from you, from your lips– especially tonight, as they are tinted with that lipstick of yours that you only wear on special occasion, but that he loves on you.
“You are, stop bullshiting me” you scoff, stopping by his side, staring at the city light too. “You are a terrible liar” you add more quietly after a few seconds
“What is that supposed to mean?” his voice inquisitory, eyebrow up in confusion.
“It means that you, Jason Peter Todd, are full of shit. You drag me here, no offence to Bruce, to this dry ass ball on the 31st of December just to evade my sight the whole night. Spill it, what is it? Have I done something?” your voice is harsher than you intended, but like hell if you’re backing down. You look at him challengingly, begging him silently to open up. Now or never.
As you wait for his answer, your eyes are directed to something on top of the arch structure that rests above your heads. Mistletoe. His eyes follow yours.
“Don’t even think about it”
“Why not? I am not a bad kisser you know” you say, pretending to be offended, while shifting your weight from one foot to the other.
“Sure you aren’t” he says, his face turning back to the city lights but you did not miss the hint of smile at the corner of his lips.
“You’re smiling” you says, inching closer, an amused grin on your face
“No. I am not” he says, trying to push down the smile
“Yes, you are”
“No, i am not”
In the midst of the back and forth, you’re now in front of him. Head tilted as if you’re studying him.
“Worst liar i know” you teases in a quiet, low, murmur as your nose touch his
His green-blueish eyes light up faintly. The voices in the background fill the silence between them, 10,9,8,7
.
“Yeah, maybe I am. But is that such a bad thing?” he whispers against your lips. You opened your mouth, and before your smartass could say anything else-at the count of one- his lips found yours under the mistletoe.
© GLAMOURSCAT (all rights reserved. do not share, modify, translate and re-upload my work outside of tumblr)
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leoivys · 9 days ago
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– contents; fluff and mostly batfam stuff instead of just romance
– summary; a casually chaotic Secret Santa with the bat family as Jason's partner.
– word count; 1.5k
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The roofs of the houses were beginning to gain a white hue as more snowflakes fell gracefully – the children in the city found joy in it, their laughter echoed in the streets while they initiated snowball fights with their friends and neighbors. Adults were busy shopping or grabbing a coffee to catch up in the presence of their loved ones, and the holiday music played in every street. Christmas was known for bringing even the most distant people back together.
A part of you hated how cold it was, but it was your idea to take a walk around the city with your partner before you drove over to the manor for Christmas day like you usually do. However, how can one ignore such events on these joyous days just for their own comfort?
The fuzzy feeling of the gloves around your hands and your coat enveloping you in its warmth was rather enjoyable even if the world outside was freezing while you walked with Jason. A soft sigh escaped you as you finally entered Wayne Manor, welcomed by Alfred opening the door for you and the heat that escaped the inside of the building.
Greetings, hugs, and smiles were exchanged with more excitement than usual while you took your seat on the couch in the main living room amongst the rest of the family – everything was decorated; the tree that you all helped set up, stockings on the fireplace with everyone's names engraved on the soft red fabric and no one can skip Alfred's baked goods resting on the coffee table.
It's odd thinking that a few years back, most of the family members were off doing their own thing instead of being here and spending time with everyone else like Jason avoided them for a good few years before he finally gave in. Now, everyone was present and agreed to have a Secret Santa along with the rest of the activities scheduled for that day.
Tim and Damian were surprisingly getting along, wearing matching Christmas sweaters as well, and then you noticed Dick supervising the two with a proud smile drawn on his face as he kept a conversation with Jason and Steph. Duke was helping Alfred bring in more sweets on the table. Cass and Barbara were calmly chatting with you about various topics and the one at hand; who was Secret Santa for who?
Meanwhile, Bruce observed everyone with a hint of a smile and a sigh as the place filled with chatter and the life it lacked most of the year due to responsibilities, his shoulders relaxed as he was more than happy to host this event annually and welcome his family –and those who he considered family– home.
“Alright everyone, enough of your chit chats. Let's start.” Dick stated, too excited to wait even further as he quickly moved to grab a present from under the tree and took a moment to read the name on it and handed it to Cass, and then kept handing out presents to everyone.
Each family member got something based on their personality, training, or hobby, and some presents were filled with meme cards describing them. Eager chuckles echoed in the room before Bruce interrupted.
“Who got that for Damian?” He asked in a mockingly firm tone as he pointed at the young boy swaying a katana similar to the one he had when he got trained by his grandfather in his hands. Just before anyone could answer, Barbara did everyone a favor and started playing Christmas music through the speakers set by the tree.
Jason scoffed at the sight of Bruce's dynamic with Damian – it had been a while since a youngling had given him a heart attack, enjoying the show and unwrapping his present. His hands traced the hardcover of the book as he lifted it up and read the title; ‘All the light we cannot see’ which had him confused for a moment. He had that book in his library already, didn't he? So he studied it further, flipping through the first few pages only to find that not only was it a first edition copy, but it was signed too.
His eyes flicked to you as his hands traced the sign on the delicate page of the book before he snapped the book closed with a smile brighter than the star atop the tree. Jason immediately knew that his gift was from you since he had been ranting about how much he wanted this for the past month or so. His suspicions were confirmed by the smile on your face.
It was really hard to find it online and get it signed just for him, but you knew it would be worth it.
“You didn't.” Jason mumbled, finding the fact that he had this book in his hands as he clutched onto it like it might disappear into thin air.
The known-for-his-violent-ways Red Hood was now acting like a literal child on Christmas, completely awestruck and bringing you in a tight hug as he muttered his thank you's. His attitude earned a chuckle from you, his embrace giving you even more warmth while his heart was beating out of his chest.
Duke blinked a few times. The newest addition to the family was having a hard time trying to process the sight before him. “Is Jason okay, or is he having some sort of cardiac arrest?” he managed to mutter, his gaze shifting to everyone else laughing at his question.
Your gift consisted of newly made gadgets, upgraded equipment, and a personal touch with a vintage Polaroid to top it off – definitely Tim's job.
Yet you couldn't help but be thankful for those, given Dick's situation; shirts that were literally merchandise about his butt, an eye mask for power naps, and a ‘big brother manual’ book. “Whose idea was this?” His fingers pinched the bridge of his nose in mock annoyance, a small smile brightening his fine features.
“That's a brilliant idea, Dick.” Jason chimed in, not bothering to hide his usual smug smirk. It was definitely him who thought of that combination as a good Christmas gift for his older brother.
Meanwhile, Barbara wasn't having it easy either, with the present in her hands containing a vintage phone and a custom Lego set of Oracle. “A Nokia? Really?” She asked, a low chuckle escaping her lips as she turned to face Steph. “You're lucky I like Lego sets, but you're stuck in this with me.” Barb threatened playfully as she set the box by her side.
Stephanie raised her hands in the air in mock surrender, she didn't seem to mind the idea of building a custom Lego set in the company of Barbara; in fact, it was a good opportunity to spend a girl's night along with you and Cass while having a chit chat – or gossiping. “It's for emergencies. And the Lego set was cute.” She explained with a shrug.
“Fine. You'll see how cute it is when you have to build this many pieces.” Barb protested, her tone lacking real bite as she pointed back at the amount of pieces written on the box. “You're all invited to our suffering.” She commented jokingly, glancing at you and Cass.
Cass perked up at the idea, “I'll bring the snacks.” She said simply, her voice soothing as ever even as it held a bit of enthusiasm as she gave Barbara a thumbs-up.
Meanwhile, Dick was flipping through the pages of the manual and hastily reading the contents before he could comment on them. “Who wrote this?” He scoffed, shaking his head disapprovingly, and continued reading. “...’Always take responsibility for your siblings' mess-ups.’ Really, Jason?”
Jason leaned back in his seat and shrugged, his arms crossed over his chest as an amused huff escaped him. “Merry Christmas, Dick.”
Tim studied the merch, trying his best to bite back his laughter at what his eyes met while Duke observed alongside Damian, who decided to address the situation accordingly. “That was uncalled for, even by your appallingly low standards, Todd.”
Dick sighed and shook his head once more, yet he couldn't help the grin spreading across his face as he couldn't help but find the situation entertaining. “You're so getting payback next year. And I'm rigging the draw.” He stated as he tried on his nap mask with a proud smirk.
Bruce, sitting quietly by the fireplace with Alfred whom he had exchanged gifts with, took another sip of his coffee and sighed, allowing himself a small chuckle as he watched the banter unfold. He was prouder than he'd care to admit, of everyone in the room.
“Everyone, pause.” You interrupted every party in the room as you took hold of your brand-new Polaroid and held it out for a selfie, trying to make sure everyone was in the frame. “Say ‘Merry Christmas!’.” You exclaimed with pure excitement and messily snapped a picture, holding the moment forever captive.
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– a/n; Merry Christmas and happy holidays in general ♡
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jvsont0dd · 7 months ago
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Jason Todd dies so often that he might as well be a Winchester
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aplaceforhumancorpses · 7 days ago
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Cryptid!Jason sketch! This au is so dear to me, idk if I’m tye first to do this but send in asks about him if you want! Ill doodle him more
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pinkmelodie · 8 months ago
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The Red Means I Love You ❀
Summary: Jason Todd x fem!Reader. You and Jason used to date before you left to stay with the Titans. You both miss each other more than you’d like to admit, but stay out of contact. Fast forward to after he died, you encounter Redhood. Old feeling stir, and before you know it you’re bent over the motorcycle of someone you swore you’d leave in the past.
Warnings: Angst -> smut, 18+, p in v, unprotected s$x, mentions of death & terrorism.
A/N: This takes place right after s3ep2, right after they find out Redhood’s identity :3
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You didn’t fully know what was happening; just that there were too many hostages in the building—all who would be killed if not evacuated immediately. You were about to run and help the rest of the titans get everyone as far away as possible before Kory pulled you aside.
You went to protest before she quickly interrupted you, “Go search for Jason.” 
Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Uhm, what?”
“Look, I have a feeling he’ll listen to you better than anyone.” she said. “Jasons not someone who can be brought down by force. Shit, he came back from the fucking dead, you think he’s gonna let us beat this new
phase out of him?” 
You wanted to argue, but Kory wasn’t someone who was wrong often. She had a good point, and you knew you had to follow it.
“We’ve got this under control,” she assured, resting a reassuring but firm hand on your shoulder. “Go.”
You were skeptical, especially when you could see Gar in the distance shaking in his boots trying to convince an old lady to let him help her down the steps, and citizens clearly getting whiplash from Connor moving them to safety too fast. Your team was
definitely something, but with some hesitance you finally turned and ran in the direction of the one member you wanted to see.


“Jason!” You called out, your voice echoing through the barren alley. Gotham was creepy enough already without walking in some sketchy, busted up route in the pitch dark.
You kept calling but the only response you got was your own voice echoing back to you. You tried to scratch your mind for something to say that could persuade him, but you came up blank. Guilt ate at your conscience when you remembered that you hadn’t spoken to him for months before he died. 
To be honest, Jason never had anyone in his life to begin with. He told you that along with all his other secrets, and you still broke his heart. 
You stayed with the titans, thinking he was being naive for not wanting to. You didn’t think about the fact they never once tried to help him, or ever see him as more than an immature kid. They didn’t have the energy to help Jason through his issues so they just abandoned ship, sending him right back to Bruce and his horrible coping mechanisms.
As much as you wanted to be angry at Dick, or Kory or really anyone else for letting that happen, you had to face that you played your part.
Jason Todd died alone. He died feeling like no one would miss him, like he was a failure of a Robin and a failure of a titan. Because even after everything, all he wanted to do was prove himself.
So, yeah. Admittedly the first words you chose to say were not a good idea. Probably should’ve seen that one coming, but you never were too good at comforting him. was anyone?
“It didn’t have to be like this, you can still come back to the titans!” You tried to coax him, almost immediately regretting it. You quickly shut your mouth, tho the damage was already done. You just prayed he wasn’t here—he didn’t need to be provoked into blowing your brains out. 
Only when your muscles stopped tensing and you thought you got lucky, a voice you couldn’t even recognize rumbled above you. It shot ice up your veins and you would’ve frozen in place if you weren’t so adiment on seeing him again.
“Still taking about the titans? Why am I surprised.” He taunted, tilting his head in a gesture so familiar it made your heart ache. When you spun around you were met with someone you couldn’t believe was really Jason. He was standing on some rusted fire escape, a steel red mask boring right through you. 
You tensed, but not out of fear. No, you could never be scared of Jason, not the same nerd who woke up early to make you breakfast or who secretly wore reading glasses. 
You debated messaging him for months after your breakup, paragraphs on paragraphs you never sent. You had so much to say to him before, so why now did your mind go blank?
It was hard to see what he was feeling with the mask, but you could tell he was expecting a snarky remark back. When you just stood there dumbfounded, he sighed. “Look, I’m done trying to prove myself to them. To Bruce, to everyone! I don’t have to be some fucking nobody y/n, and neither do you.”
Now that made you snap out of whatever trance you were in. “‘and neither do you’? What are you trying to do, advertise me the life of crime?”
He groaned, “I don’t know why I ever tried with you. The titans are just a bunch of fucked up people acting like one big happy family, is that what you wanted? Are you happy you made that choice?” He sneered.
There was malice in his tone, but it wasn’t real. he didn’t feel angry anymore, just betrayed.
He would’ve splayed his heart out for you on a silver platter if you asked, just for you to turn your back on him. You followed him in his dreams, haunted him every time he smelt a familiar perfume, even appeared behind his shut eyelids while the life drained out of him. You were a part of him, and from what he knew you’d never looked back when you stormed out that day.
That’s why it shocked him when tears started to well in your eyes. God, your eyes—the ones he would subconsciously buy clothes of in the same colour. “You could’ve came with me,” you whispered. 
Your meek tone broke something in him. His shoulders relaxed and in a blink he leaped down, knees bending upon landing on the hard ground in front of you. Seeing him like this; the mask concealing his identity, various weapons strapped to his thighs and seemingly more toned than the last time you saw him—you could understand why everyone was on edge.
He stood there motionless, a silent and intimidating presence before you. You both stood there in unbearable silence until finally, he lifted his mask off.
His features were lit beautifully by the dim street light, eyes glinting ever so slightly. He looked exhausted—more troubled now, but you knew, despite everything, this was Jason. Your Jason, not who he was manipulated into.
“No, I couldn’t have.” he muttered begrudgingly, “they made that very clear.”
“So what, you just become a terrorist? Is that your idea of solving your problems?”
His fists clenched in barely concealed anger. “Bruce couldn’t save Gotham, so he abandoned it. I’ll be the one to fix it.” 
“By running around in a new suit and planting bombs everywhere? Real great strategy.” You rolled your eyes, but started to blush when you stared at him too long in the plated suit that fit him perfectly. You quickly caught yourself ogling and looked away, assuming he wouldn’t catch the red tinge on your face. 
You don’t know how you ever thought he wouldn’t notice. Of course he noticed, it’s Jason Todd.
For fucks sake, the guy noticed every detail about you. The way you’d avoid eye contact when nervous, the pace of your blinking quickening when you were lost in thought, the slight heighten of your voice when you were excited about something. All these tiny things and you thought he just wouldn’t notice the way you eyed him down all red in the face?
Come on, you were basically writing your true feelings out to him in big, bold
 ..red letters

and it’s not like Kory ever specified exactly what to do once you found him
 .. .
So that’s how you ended up bent against his motorcycle in some busted up alleyway, pussy spread open on his dick.
You gasped and clawed pointlessly at his covered back; nails clinking uselessly against the metal armour of his suit. 
Your own suit was pulled off just enough to get access to your cunt, panties pulled to the side so he could plunge his thick cock into you.
He was groaning more than he used to, and you could swear you even heard him whine. His pace was ruthless, thrusts messy but coordinated. He kept trying to push further inside you, pressing his body as close to you as possible like you would vanish at any moment. 
“Fuckfuckfuck-“ he rambled. Death heightened all of his senses—made things have so much more of an impact on him. Maybe he just missed you too much, or maybe he let himself forget how good you feel.
To be fair, you were far worse off than him. You would’ve alerted everyone in Gotham if he wasn’t covering your mouth with a gloved hand, though it’s not like anyone here would bat an eye to screaming.
“My poor baby just been lonely, s’that it?”He teased, manhandling you by your hips to meet his harsh thrusts. 
“Nobody to fill up this pretty hole like I do, such a shame,” he pouted in faux sympathy, as if he wasn’t balls deep at the moment.
“I’m back now. Fuck the titans, I’ve always treated you better, haven’t I?” He’s fucking your ability to form coherent words right out of your throat, but he knows your answer when you squeeze around him.
“Jay!” you moaned into his palm. Your cunt was squelching embarrassingly loud with each thrust, thighs shaking so hard you for sure would’ve fallen over if he wasn’t holding you up. Every drag of his cock in you hit the perfect spots, just like he remembered you love.
“You don’t even care that I’m red hood, do you?” he asked, his tone full of confidence. “Nah, you don’t. So fucking wet, does my suit get you off princess?” 
He moved his hand to play with your clit, getting it soaked with your fluids. You were too cock-drunk to lie bite back, just nodding desperately and mewling out something akin to a yes.
He smirked. “Pussys sucking me in the same too, fuck- I missed this. I missed you.”
He acted cocky when he was fucking you like this because it’s the only way he was sure you even wanted to be around him. Not much to complain about when his big dick is ravaging you, no?
Deep down he always felt right at home with you. He wouldn’t admit it, but he would give up red hood for you. He’d give up anything for you, actually. Nothing mattered as long as you were with him. And he wasn’t letting you go this time.
With the ministrations on your clit and him pounding into you, it wasn’t a surprise when that knot in your stomach came undone quickly. Especially not with how many failed orgasms you had with your fingers, pretending it was him.
Ever attentive, he noticed immediately. “You gonna come, baby? Try not to get any on the new suit.” He winked, as if you were gonna squirt for him. (You have, many times.)
The cherry on top was when he unexpectedly flipped his mask back down and leaned in to whisper right into your ear with that deep voice, “come for me”
And you were gone. You came with a cry of his name, eyes rolling back and toes curling. Your pussy gushed all over his dick, forming a white ring around it that you could see every time he slammed his hips.
Seeing your pretty face so euphoric was what sent him over the edge, and grudgingly he pulled out, pearly white cum shooting all over your stomach.
You spent a minute regaining your breath while he pressed gentle kisses all over your throat. He only let up when you whined at the slight pain of the pressure on your newly forming hickeys. He tucked himself back into his pants and re-adjusted his belt. You were wondering if he planned on just leaving until he took his coat off and wrapped it around you.
He moved you so you were set down properly on the back of his motorcycle and then stepped on. You instinctively laid against his back, resting your head on his shoulder and he admired you with pure adoration.
“Wrap your arms around me babe,” he hummed, affectionately rubbing your thigh that was pressed to his.
When your brain finally caught up to what was happening you gave him a confused look.“Wha- wait! Where are we going?” 
He looked at you like you were crazy for even questioning it. “Home,” he laughed, “what? Did you think death was gonna do us part, baby?”
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mellotunekitty · 3 months ago
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Jason Todd x Gn!Reader - Sick Day
Summary: the day you’re supposed to work with Jason, you’re sick. After he hears this, he takes it upon himself to take care of you, going above and beyond what he really needs to.  
Contains: tooth rotting fluff, comfort, reader has a fever
----
You woke up with your head banging, your throat sore, and your nose clogged up. Great. You’re sick. Of course it had to be the same day you were going to meet up with Jason to talk about a closed case you both were thinking about reopening. Groaning in pain, you rolled over to grab your phone and called Jason. 
“Hello?” He picked up. “Jay, I don’t feel good. M’not coming over today,” you said, your words barely audible. But Jason knew you. He knew what you sounded like when you were sick. “I’ll be right there. Don’t move,” he said, hanging up. 
“Wha- Jason
 Jason?” You realize he hung up and tossed your phone aside, groaning and laying back down in pain. Your muscles were sore and you just wanted to sleep without tossing and turning because your nose was clogged on one side, then the other, and back to the previous side. It didn’t take long before he broke into your apartment through your window. 
He slid the window up to let himself in, bringing a backpack in with him. “You got the floor all wet,” you whined, noticing how wet his boots were from the rain. He apologized softly and took his boots off, finding a towel to put under them. “Here, I brought you some stuff,” he said, uncharacteristically soft. He pulled out medicine and a box of tea. “Here, let me warm up some tea for you so you can take the medicine,” he said.
Jason returned, tea in hand. The medicine wasn't as bad as you thought. It did take some convincing on his part, but it worked eventually. He didn’t stop at tea and medicine, however. His backpack seemed to be the equivalent to Mary Poppins or Hermione Granger’s bag. Medicine, tea, thermometer, tissues, soups, and more. He had it all set just for you. 
In your sick state, you caught a fragment of him pulling out the thermometer to take your temperature. “Open
 under the tongue, sweetheart, there ya go,” he whispered. “Ooh..” Jason hissed, “high fever. I’ll make you some soup. You need liquids and food.” 
“M’not hungry,” you managed to croak. He sighed softly, cupping your cheek. “I know, baby, but you gotta eat something,” he mumbled. “You won’t have to eat all of it. Just what you can.” So, you did. You ate as much soup as you could before blowing your nose like crazy, the medicine seemingly kicking in. 
You didn’t think he could take care of you more, but if there was one thing you knew about Jason, it was that he liked to outdo himself. So when you watched him grab your remote and put on your favorite shows to make you feel better, you weren’t so surprised. “Need anything else? Want anything?” He asked. “No,” you whispered. But you did.
You wanted cuddles. You wanted to be held and coddled. It always felt so nice when you were sick. Obviously, he saw right through you, it was Jason. “You’re lying,” he said gently, “what d’you need?” Your voice came out soft and rough, “...hold me?” 
His eyes softened and he looked down with a smile, nodding slightly. “Okay,” he whispered, walking over to your bed. He laid next to you and carefully scooped you up. Almost like he was treating you like glass. “Get some sleep, baby,” he whispered. “I’ll be here to take care of you when you wake up.” 
It was the happiest you’ve ever been while sick.
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sleepyangelkami · 10 months ago
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PLAY PRETEND j.todd
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 â˜† WORD COUNT - 3.1K
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JASON TODD X FEM!READER
 â˜† SUMMARY - jason needs someone to act as his girlfriend to the gala, which you decide to go along with but jealousy and alcohol get the better of you leading to one too many drunken confessions.
 â˜† WARNINGS - drinking, alcohol, bad descriptions of being drunk, jealousy, angst, pining, manipulation, skinny love, crying, slight panic attack, use of good girl (non-sexual), comfort, petnames, use of y/n, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread đŸ©·
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you stood with your back against the drinks table, sighing through your pouted lips as you glanced around the room, hoping for some type of entertainment to catch your eye. you didn't even wish to be here, in fact, you would have done just about anything to be snuggled up in your bed reading a book right about now.
jason was the reason you were here in the first place and yet, he was nowhere to be seen.
you’d heard of the wayne gala’s a lot before, it wasn’t exactly new to you. you’d been to a couple of them yourself too but there was a reason you didn’t come to them often and one could guess it was because this is how it always ended, you sat up against the drinks table with expensive alcohol swirling in your expensive glass and dressed in your expensive dress. it was so
 not you.
you were the type of girl that dragged your friends to junk yards and bought the cheapest clothes that you saw hidden in thrift stores. 
not the type of girl that attended wayne gala’s. 
and yet, here you stood all because you were so helplessly smitten with your all time best friend, jason todd, the son of bruce wayne, the redhood, the gentleman, the many, many things. he’d asked you to go to the wayne gala’s with him before, offering it up yet you always politely declined, stating it wasn’t your scene but this time was simply different.
you’d sat up on your bed, flicking through your magazines while jason rambled on as he began tearing his tie from around his throat. it was late, too late but jason never did care for the time when it came to seeing you.
you swallowed, nodding along and humming. it was just so late and you’d only woken up so your mind was all fuzzy and for some reason you couldn’t stop thinking about how nice some grapes would taste right about now. “are you listening to me?” the question from jason was rhetorical but you’d be lying if you said your undivided attention as on him. “i’m a dead man!” 
“it’s not that big of a deal.” you uttered, closing your magazine and sighing, you really wanted some grapes. “really, you’re only stressing yourself out. you’re an
 attractive guy, i’m sure you’ll get a girlfriend between now and the next gala.”
“but thats the thing
 i don’t want a girlfriend!” sheesh, your head was too clouded for his yelling. “i shouldn’t have opened my mouth.”
you could only shrug your shoulders, nodding. “true.”
he took a seat on the pink quilts that surrounded your bed, his head falling into his hands and groaning. “you’re not helping.” 
jason had made the idiotic choice of lying to bruce when asked if he had a girlfriend. he was just so tired of him asking and asking and asking so he decided to lie, telling him that he did in fact have a girlfriend and that they’d been together for quite a while now, he’d just been saving the announcement for a more special day.
so what did bruce do? announce it at his next gala, stating that jason would surely be bringing her along for the next.
and jason almost choked on his bourbon. 
he was dressed in his suit from before, his hair all messed and teased while his clothes just looked out of it, his shirt untucked, his jacket discarded on the ground and he had pulled the tie from his neck, unbuttoning the first two or three buttons, he felt like he was going to collapse.
“i’m sorry.” you spoke softly, feeling sympathetic for your ‘best friend’. you turned to him, clad in your pretty pink pijama’s and softening your gaze on him. “how can i help?” 
the way you looked at him should have told him everything. what your gaze should have said was that you were in love with him, you had been since the very first day you’d laid your eyes on him, gaze never leaving and your jaw falling slack. okay, perhaps you hadn’t loved him during your first encounter but there was definitely
 something, something that told you this wasn’t just any boy but he was something much much more.
it should have told him a lot of things, should have spilled your feelings right then and there but jason was as oblivious as they come, he hadn’t a notion of what your gaze meant. in fact, he blamed the diluted pupils on the fact that he’d woken you up, banging on your door at all hours of the night. 
“you could help in one way but
 nevermind, it’s stupid.” shaking his head and turning away. the master of manipulation.
and you looked almost concerned then, the victim of that very manipulation. “no, what is it? i wanna help.” 
and he knew you did, it’s why he said anything in the first place. sweet old you, always willing to do anything he said, just to please him.
“you could
 you know, pretend to be my girlfriend, it would just be for the night, for the gala. you know, to get everyone off my back?” his eyes stared back at you, big and hopeful.
how could you, in your right mind, say no when you were so utterly full of love for the boy. “wha
 i don’t even have a dress.” an excuse, a terrible one because something in you was downright shocked. you? of all people? first, you could barely go to that gala as it was let alone pretend to be his girlfriend.
besides, you began to get a little worried. perhaps you’d like the pretend game a little too much. 
“i’ll buy you a dress.” he insisted almost instantly. lord knew he had the money.
but you frowned a little at that. “i’m not a charity case, jay
” sure, your apartment was a little small but it was homely, it was you. though you were sure it didn’t much live up to jasons standards.
“not a charity case, i know.” he came a little closer, pressing his hand against your thigh and rubbing it gently. “i just want you to feel your best for the night, angel, it’s just one night.” 
you bit down on your lip, knowing you’d regret it. “fine.” 
but for jason, you’d face just about any guilt. 
and after his many thank you’s and squishing hugs that had your face smushed against your chest you finally sighed out. “I can’t believe i’m doing this for you.” sending him a playful glare though there was a pit in your stomach.
“please.” he couldn’t help but smirk. “you love me.” 
and you couldn’t possibly tear your eyes away from him. without playfulness or a smile, you spoke the words, “I’d have to be a fool.” before quickly shaking your head and changing the subject. “you have to wear a pink tie to match my dress.” 
he had the audacity to laugh in your face. “I will not.” 
“yes you will.” you folded your arms over your chest. “you will or i’m not going.” 
jason couldn’t help but shake his head with a chuckle. “fine.” 
“fine.” you repeated. “now go get me grapes from the fridge.” 
brat. 
you’d been announced as his girlfriend, he’d held your waist for the entire night, grinned and beamed over at you as his brothers watched sceptically. 
now, you sat alone at a table, downing what felt like your hundredth glass.
you didn’t drink often so you gave yourself a little lean for this time, seeing as you never did it, now was your chance to get absolutely
 shitfaced, did damian call it? 
but it wasn’t as if you didn’t have a good reason. 
jason, your best friend, your first and last love, was standing speaking to some blonde girl, she was giggling away, obviously pleased with herself as if she didn’t have a lipgloss smudge on her teeth. and you? you couldn’t have been more ashamed with yourself. 
your head was placed on your arm that was slinked across the white tablecloth, just watching the pair as the alcohol swirled in your cup. you wondered how you went from eating the white grapes to downing the white wine in your hands.
then your eyes glanced back to jason, in his pretty pink tie, and it all made sense. 
he was your best friend, you had no right to be jealous, no reason to be but for some reason you thought by him bringing you here, introducing you as his girlfriend meant something. 
but it was all just play pretend. 
you knew this, you knew it as well as anyone and yet you still couldn’t help but feel so utterly
 hurt.
your eyes burned but you weren’t crying, your throat burned but that was only because of the alcohol that didn’t even taste nice.
they should really have grapejuice here, the non-alcoholic kind. 
it was dick grayson who’d laid his hands on your shoulders that adverted your gaze from jason. your pupils were wide, the rims of your eyes red though you weren’t sure if that was due to the alcohol or the fact that you were holding your own tears at bay. 
“hey, y/n, how you feeling?” his tone was soft, understanding. he really was one of your best friends. he was crouched down to your level as you sat in the chair.
you glanced down to the cup in your hands. “think ‘m drunk, dickie.” because suddenly the entire room was spinning. 
“yeah.” he pressed his lips into a thin line. “think maybe you’re done for tonight, huh?” taking the glass from your hands before you could so much as protest.
with heavy eyes and an even heavier heart, you nodded your head. “think ‘m
 ‘m gonna go home.” home was where your bed is, they say. but saying you were going home and directing it towards your house didn’t even sound right. home was that curly, raven haired boy with a pretty smile.
“don’t go home.” his eyes glanced towards jason, sighing. “don’t go before you’ve talked to him.” 
dick was one of your best friends. with that being said, he knew everything about you down to where your birthmarks were, that meant he knew all about these hidden feelings for your supposed best friend jason todd, his dear little brother. 
but you could only shake your head. even thinking about jason right now was enough to make you queasy. “no, he’s talkin’ to blondie.” blondie, the pretty girl who you couldn’t even judge if you wanted to. she had a dark black dress on, she was much taller than you, large heels and standing with her shoulders drawn back, obviously much more confident too. 
was she everything that you lacked? 
as if summoning him, you could feel the dark shadow that loomed over you, even with your head pressed against that damned tabelcloth, even that was expensive. 
“is she alright?” 
that voice, that pretty, deep, and almost mysterious voice yet as perplexing as it was, you were sure that you’d recognise that voice amiss any crowd, through any drink that entered your system. jason still roamed your mind, always and when his voice was spoken, you were sure to hear it. 
“she’s drunk.” dick answered for you, as though you weren’t sitting right next to him. “i think you should bring her upstairs, get her cleaned up and put to bed.” dick was doing you a favour in the long run, even if it didn’t feel like it.
but your head had finally risen from the table, big doey eyes staring up at the two large men above you. “n-no i can
 i can bring myself home.” your words slurring.
jason couldn’t help but laugh down at you, glossy lips turned into a pout. “yeah, cause i’d let you ride your little bicycle through gotham alone, at this hour of the night, in the state that you’re in.” of course, you were the only one in the entire world that would ride one of those pretty pink bikes with a woven basket in gotham. “come on, let me put you to bed.” 
you don’t remember bidding goodbye to dick but you were sure you had. you didn’t remember moving from the table to the door, practically being pushed by jason. however, you did vaguely remember uttering the words, “you need’a say g’night to blondie.” to which he responded with. “who?” 
that confused you because he genuinely seemed confused, as though he hadn’t even remembered the colour of the hair belonging to the girl he’d just spoken to. had he really been that uninterested or was he just putting on a show?
you did remember, however, sitting on the cold tiles of jason’s bathroom floor after he’d undressed you, stripping you to your undergarments and placing a long tee over you. you remembered the way his hands gently did it, soothing you as he went, uttering soft words and assuring you that it was okay.
in no way did he make anything sexual, instead, he was merely caring for his ‘best friend’. 
you remembered the way the tears began rolling down your cheeks as you dry sobbed pathetically, the drink getting the better of you.
jason had been tending to your face, a cotton pad covered in micellar water gently cleansing your skin, softly dancing it across the makeup that covered your face and wiping it clean. he wasn’t used to taking off makeup, obviously, so this was a little difficult for him. but he got used to it.
it wasn’t the first time he’d done it for you.
only difference was this time he was comforting your cries at the same time. “shh, shh, c’mon, tell me wh’s the matter, baby?” all soft and gentle with you as you couldn’t do anything but let the liquidy tears fall down your face, trying to avoid his gaze. “c’mon, tell jay wh’s wrong so he can fix it.” 
but how were you to tell him that the reason you were crying was because you loved him? 
you couldn’t, so instead you opted for shaking your head, words practically heaving out of you as your breaths became laboured and uneven. 
jason could tell where this was going. 
he’d comforted you on multiple occasions, some worse than others but that didn’t change the fact that he knew you from the inside and out. “hey, hey, breathe, pretty girl, breathe.” 
he’d taken your head in the palm of his hand, gently placing it against his chest so that you could feel the way his own chest rose and fell and hear the way his heart beated against his ribcage. he knew this was a good thing to do when it came to you, this was a reminder that he was alive and by the way you could hear and feel it too, surely, you were alive as well. 
it was grounding. 
“in with me, c’mon, angel.” breathing in and you followed, trying to take as much air into your lungs as you possibly could. “‘n out, good girl.” he praised, hearing the shaky breath that you still let out.
when your breathing had regulated back to normal, there were still tears streaming down your face and you couldn’t help but cry and whimper pathetically. you could blame the alcohol or you could blame the fact that you’d gotten so caught up in play pretend that you’d forgotten yourself, who you were and what you really meant to jason. 
“s-shouldn’t have come.” you muttered through your desperate cries. “shouldn’t have come here.” while the messy tears coated your perfect skin. 
it broke jason’s heart. you were his bubbly girl, always grinning and smiling, laughing at jokes you didn’t understand, grinning at people you didn’t even particularly like, you were nothing but good. you were gold, if the colour was a person, it was you. your heart was as big as a heart could get yet you know what they say, the bigger the person, the harder they fall.
and sometimes your poor golden heart simply couldn’t take the mean world. 
“what?” suddenly, his own heart began to shatter. he suddenly felt as though it was his fault. you were acting like this because you didn’t want to be here, because either something had happened or simply you were too overstimulated due to the gala itself (poor oblivious jason still hadn’t got it right.) whatever the case, he’d been the one to drag you along here and now he felt guilt pang his heart heavily. “no, no everyone loved you, what are you talking about?” 
your teary, broken eyes glanced up at him, and you couldn’t tear your eyes away. 
perhaps it was the too much alcohol that had entered your lightweight system or perhaps it was the way he looked so
 dreamy, even through your blurred vision. his pretty sapphire eyes gazed down at you, so full of concern and worry. he cared so deeply about you, you could tell from his eyes. the slope of his nose, his pretty lips drawn into a frown, his sharp jaw line and the little curls of his hair, white streaks at the front on wide display.
“i’m a fool.” you uttered, so pathetically, full of realisation.
once again, his black brows furrowed in confusion yet also so full of concern. he wanted to understand, to help you but you were proving it awfully difficult, not that he blamed you. “what? you’re not a fool, what are you talking about?” 
you sniffled, practically blubbering. “i told you i’d have to be a fool to love you ‘n if that’s true then i’m a fool.” you hadn’t a notion of what possessed your mouth to move, possessed you to speak. “‘m the biggest fool in the world because i love you so much ‘n im scared i’ll never be able to stop loving you.” 
and the biggest problem was that you were sure he’d never feel the same. 
“is that what all of this is about?” he had to stop himself from chuckling at you, otherwise you’d take it the wrong way and the tears would begin again. instead, his eyes softened and his hand came down to move the hair from your face. “you should have just told me, princess, all of this could have been avoided.” 
you stared up at him with those dazed, confused eyes. 
“when i told you i didn’t want a girlfriend.” he confessed. “it wasn’t because i didn’t want one it was because i didn’t want one that’s not you.” you had to blink at him, thinking it was all merely a dream. “i love you too, sweet girl, always have, always will.” 
and you were sure it was a dream. 
“jay?” 
“yeah?” 
“will you tell me this again when i’m sober?” 
a chuckle. 
“of course, angel.” 
“promise?” 
“i promise.” 
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alwaysmoncheri · 10 months ago
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đŹđźđŠđŠđšđ«đČ: you and jason have a complicated relationship, but when you find yourself in a troubling situation, jason just happens to be your emergency contact
𝐜𝐰: female!reader, minimal swearing, sexual assault, cat calling, assault, violence, 1.5k, jason todd x reader
<3
midnights in gotham city smell distinctly of blood. the dark streets are littered with corpses of victims who stain the rubble red. crime is high and murder remains rampant among the homeless people living on the streets. you know walking home alone at this hour alongside the hundreds of criminals that hide in the shadows is a terrible idea. but your shift at the library ran late tonight and you had no other means of transportation, hence the reason why you find yourself alone in a dark alley far from the comfort and safety of your apartment.
the faint footsteps of desperate strangers lurk behind you, the sound echoes through the night, and your skin crawls with anticipation of what’s to follow. nothing good comes from the situation that you’ve found yourself in and that’s what brings you to pull out your phone and tap on the first contact that pops up on your screen.
jason.
your relationship with jason is complicated. like most things in your life you suppose. but jason is the only one who’s almost always by your side. maybe that’s part of what possessed you to click on his name on your phone and bring it up to your ear with trembling fingers.
“hey, sweet—”
“jason, I think i’m being followed.” you breathe out quickly and you don't dare to peek so much as a glance behind you.
“shit. hang on, babe. just—”
jason's voice, laced with urgency, cuts through the tense night as the echo of your footsteps intensifies. the sounds of the desolate alley amplify, creating an eerie symphony of fear and impending danger.
“i’m so scared, jay,” your shaky voice reaches jason, carrying the weight of dread as if it were a tangible thing. in response, jason's voice becomes a soothing anchor, his words a balm to your frayed nerves.
“hey, it’s okay, sweetheart. tell me where you are,” jason's voice, steady and reassuring, breaks through the chaos. your breath catches as you fumble to provide your location, the darkness of the alley making every detail obscure.
“I don’t know, I think in an alley near the corner of 5th and main. I thought it would be quicker. jason, please hurry,” desperation seeps into your words, painting a vivid picture of the peril you find yourself in.
“just hang on, i’m on my way,” jason's promise becomes a lifeline, a lifeline you desperately clutch onto. the plea, "don’t hang up, please don’t hang up," echoes through the phone, the fear of losing that connection palpable.
“I won’t, honey. just keep telling me what’s going on, okay?” jason's voice is a steady stream of reassurance, a counterpoint to the mounting chaos.
your breath quickens as you confess, "there’s multiple, jay."
“multiple what? sweetheart, talk to me,” jason's concern deepens, the gravity of the situation reflected in the intensity of his inquiry.
“people, there’s multiple people. they’re still following me, and I can’t lose them,” your voice quivers, painting a chilling image of the shadows closing in.
“i’m almost there, okay? just hang on a little longer, can you do that for me?” jason’s words are a beacon of hope, urging you to endure the storm just a little while longer.
“they’re getting closer. shit,” panic infuses your voice as the chase intensifies. jason senses the urgency, a quiet determination in his response.
the abrupt cut-off and your distressed cry for help and jason’s call to you, "y/n!?" mark the harrowing turn. the phone, a lifeline moments ago, is silenced by a crushing foot, an audible confirmation of the looming threat.
“looks like your boyfriend isn’t going to make it, gorgeous,” a sinister voice taunts, the malevolence palpable in the dimly lit alley. the struggle intensifies, and your defiant words ring through the night.
“get off of me, you creep!” your voice is a mix of fear and defiance, a visceral response to the encroaching menace.
“watch your tone, sweetie,” a chilling warning hangs in the air as they pin you down. the confrontation takes a dark turn as you spit in their faces, a desperate act of resistance.
“such a shame that’s what you’re using such a pretty mouth for,” a sinister chuckle underscores the dehumanizing intent, leaving a bitter taste in the tense air.
“that’s alright, we don’t want you for your mouth anyway,” a chilling statement, a precursor to unspeakable horrors, hangs over the alley.
in the clash of desperation and violence, the air changes as jason, your vigilante savior, descends upon the scene like a guardian angel emerging from the shadows. the sounds of a fierce struggle ensue, muffled grunts and the scuff of boots on concrete. with a swift, powerful intervention, the men are knocked out and when they loosen their grip you sink to the ground with defeat and despair. you don’t even notice you’re crying until jason gently prys your hands from your face and rubs your tears away with the rough thumb of his leather glove
then, in one swift motion, jason's strong, reassuring arms envelop you, pulling you into an embrace that feels like sanctuary. relief washes over you, grounding you in the reality of his protective presence.
“it's okay, sweetheart. you're safe now,” jason's voice, previously a lifeline over the phone, now echoes directly into your ear, a soothing melody that erases the lingering echoes of fear. his words are a healing balm, mending the wounds of terror inflicted upon your psyche.
the dimly lit alley transforms from a nightmare into a haven under the watchful gaze of your friend. the tension in your shoulders eases, and the erratic beat of your heart gradually steadies as you bask in the warmth of his reassuring touch.
“i've got you, y/n. you're safe,” jason whispers, the warmth of his breath against your ear a soothing balm to the wounds inflicted by fear. the resonance of those words sinking deep into the recesses of your shaken soul. his presence is a shield against the haunting memories of the alley, a reassurance that the nightmare is over.
the shattered phone lies forgotten, a casualty of the struggle, as jason continues to shield you from the residual fear. he tilts your chin up gently, meeting your eyes with an unwavering gaze that speaks volumes of his commitment and protective instinct.
“let's get you home,” jason murmurs, his fingers tenderly brushing away a stray strand of hair from your face. together, you navigate the now-quiet alley, the looming threat replaced by the solid ground beneath your feet and the reassuring touch of the person who faced the darkness on your behalf.
as you approach the familiar comfort of your apartment, jason's protective hold lingers. “are you okay?” he asks, his voice a gentle murmur that eases the residual tension in your body. you nod against his chest, words escaping you as relief and gratitude flood your senses.
the apartment door closes with a muffled thud, shutting out the ominous whispers of the night. jason, ever watchful, guides you towards the bathroom. the soft hum of the overhead light bathes the space in a gentle glow, revealing the porcelain sink and mirror.
you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror – disheveled, eyes wide with residual fear. without a word, jason turns on the faucet, letting the water flow until it reaches a soothing warmth. his fingers graze yours, urging you to lean over the sink.
the splashing water echoes in the small room as jason's hands cup and scoop, the liquid cascading over your face. the feel of his fingers against your skin is both tender and firm, each touch a cleansing ritual that washes away the remnants of the night.
you glance up into the mirror, meeting jason's eyes. there's an unspoken understanding as his hands move methodically, the cool water providing a refreshing contrast to the heated intensity of the ordeal. the sensation is grounding, a simple act of care that transcends words.
as you straighten up, a vulnerability lingers in your gaze. you turn off the faucet, and the silence hangs in the air. the wet droplets cling to your skin, a tangible reminder of the shared intimacy in this simple act of cleansing. jason's hands linger on your face, his fingers tracing a silent promise. the air in the bathroom holds a charged stillness, the transition from fear to intimacy palpable.
the urgency of the night lingers in your eyes. “stay, jason, please,” the plea escapes your lips, a raw, desperate plea that echoes in the confined space of the bathroom. his gaze meets yours, and for a moment, the weight of the world seems to shift.
there's a pause, a heartbeat suspended in time, before jason's expression softens. his agreement is wordless, a nod that carries the promise of a shared refuge in the night.
the journey from the bathroom to the bedroom is taken in tandem, the touch of his hand on the small of your back a grounding force. the mattress welcomes you both, and the room is immersed in the soft glow of bedside lamps. the night unfolds with shared breaths and jason's hand finding yours.
“thank you.” you whisper to him under the sheets, the warmth of his body next to you radiating into your own, “thank you for protecting me.”
“i’ll always protect you, sweetheart.”
masterlist . jason todd masterlist . taglist
thank you for reading, my darling! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a smooch if you do, ily! send requests to my inbox!
alwaysmoncheri © ─ all rights reserved. please do not repost/translate/copy any of my work.
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cipheress-to-k-pop · 5 months ago
Text
I'm here (j.t.)
Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader
Warnings: Kissing.
Word Count: 2.7k
Song Rec: I love you, I'm sorry by Gracie Abrams
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It was hard to enjoy the cold when Jason was surrounded by the uncomfortable heat of tailpipes and exhaust vents and the bustle of Gothamites around him. He could feel himself break out into a sweat even though he was on the roof of a building, where he had been for the last twenty minutes.
He had taken off his helmet, preferring to keep only his domino on but even then, he felt like he couldn't breathe easy. He could easily blame the city's shitty climate but deep down he knew the reason was across the street from him.
He watched as the lights flicked on; his view obstructed due to the frosted glass that he had begged you to put up. You hated closing the curtains because you felt it made your already small apartment even smaller and he hated the fact that anyone across the street could catch a glimpse into your home.
He could really see the irony in that now as he wished for a better view of your face.
But even without it, he could clearly envision you coming home from a long day, dumping your bag at the door, and kicking off your shoes, refusing to kick off your socks in the same way and instead tossing them into the hamper. Dirty socks were your pet peeve, one that he learnt extremely early into the relationship.
However, you also refused for him to wear shoes in your home, and he hated being barefooted, so you compromised and got him a couple spare socks and a pair of slippers. He wondered if they were still there in the lowest drawer of your shoe cabinet.
You'd immediately sit on the ground to rest your legs after walking four blocks from the subway station instead of a chair because you didn't want your 'outside clothes' to touch your clean furniture.
A melancholic smile spread across Jason's lips as something beautiful, yet painful began to coil around his chest. He loved that he could still remember every single thing about you. It was those little features; the way you'd always forget your towel in the dryer while taking a shower and begging Jason to bring it to you, the tiny welt in the corner on your lips that you got from biting them til they'd bleed, that lock of hair at the back of your head that was a different texture than the rest. It was those that would bring him back to Earth whenever the green of the pit seemed to blind him.
The lines of your body were the only thing he envisioned when he closed his eyes, the mellifluous flow of your voice threading through his eardrums whenever he had any quiet, the heat of your phantom fingertips tracing up his arms and wrapping around his waist as he laid alone in bed.
You haunted him, your memories tormented him, and he wondered if you were in the same boat as him, simply existing but not living. He wondered how you would feel if you heard the deep baritone of his voice now that he's grown into a man, or the heat from his chest when he enveloped your now much smaller form in his arms.
He wondered if you were wondering about him. He wondered if you were lying alone like him or had his side of the bed already been claimed by somebody else. Someone who was smarter and sweeter and better.
The pragmatic side of him told him that he should be happy if you managed to find another. Afterall, he loved you so much if you asked him to carve out his own breaking heart and place it in your palms, he would, if only to see the smile on your face. So, he should be happy if you were happy.
However, rest of him banged against his ribcage with bloody fists, begging for it not to be true.
He scolded himself while his feet mindlessly took him to your apartment building, and he was left staring at the frosted glass of your window.
He knew it would end up this way, he just knew it. When he had first come out from the Lazarus pit, he was adamant not to meet you again, convinced that you would be better off without him.
Then he kept thinking about you and he concluded that he'd only see you once, if only to see that you were doing well and taking care of yourself. And then he'd never tempt himself again.
And then he promised himself he'd only watch you from afar, desperately trying to catch glances of you like a parched man would savour the smallest drop of water.
Then he got even greedier. His heart tugged him so hard that he almost fell off the roof in his haste to grapple across the street and climb down the fire escape til your apartment building.
He promised himself this would be the last. He would stop here. He would only listen to your voice while a wall separated the both of you. He would stop there.
Jason listened to you sing while you washed the dishes, your voice only fading to a dull hum through the wall and his brows furrowed, leaning his forehead against it as he tried to catch every wave of your voice.
Then eventually it was silent, and he stared at his feet for a couple seconds before sighing and beginning to stand.
He didn't know why he continued to come see you. Every time the fleeting glance of you passed, he was left feeling an empty chasm that seemed to drag his stomach into a blackhole. He was unable to get out of bed the next day, despaired by the fact that you were able to go about your day while he was stuck in his own hell.
So, why did he continue to do it? Why did he feel your absence like critters crawling all over his skin and only feeling a semblance of relief when he knows that he's near you? Why can he only feel better when he feels his heart pounding in his chest when he thinks that at any moment you could accidentally spot him where he was hiding even though he'd be constantly disappointed? And yet, he still hoped you'd spot him again.
He'd hear the lights click shut any second now before you crawled into bed, falling asleep while clutching your phone and scrolling through Instagram.
He was always disheartened at the end of these nights, when he realized that he was the only one lingering outside in the cold as he waited for you to notice him, to long for him. But yet again, you managed to get through another day without losing yourself in your grief, unlike him.
Was it really that easy for you to get over him? He was standing outside your apartment, wishing to go back to the nights where you used to invite him in with open arms while you remained oblivious to how much he missed you.
He turned his back to leave when he heard a click and then a noisy squeak of the hinges as you pushed the window open.
Your wide eyes met his stormy blue and you froze.
"Hey, beautiful."
There was a beat of silence between the two of you that was filled with the sounds of Gotham and you continued to stare at him, shocked into a stupor. Finally, it seemed like you were able to knock your consciousness back into your body and you squeezed your eyes shut and began counting backward from ten.
"He’s not really here, (Y/N). Jason is gone. You were there at the funeral. You watched them lower his body into his grave, (Y/N). He's gone. And he's not coming back."
Jason watched your throat bob like a lone acorn down a tempestuous river and you squeezed your eyes shut tighter, flared nostrils telling him that you were on the verge of tears. Your fingers curled into a tight grip that had your knuckles turning a shade lighter.
Now he knew why he was so anxious about seeing you again. Why, when one foot had taken a step toward you, the other remained anchored to his spot until you walked past him. While he was worried that you had moved on from him, he was even more terrified to see the effect that his death had on you.
When he came back to Gotham and he realized that he had been erased and replaced by Bruce, it was only easy for him to think you had done the same thing. It was easier for him to think he had been abandoned by the entire world. But he was always scared to find out if he was right, so he kept his distance.
However, he was even more scared to find out that you had been left missing him because of a stupid mistake he had made as a child when you had begged him not to. You had known he was beginning to go off the rails, that he was getting rebellious, and you had begged him not to do anything rash.
He had just taken it as a sign that you didn't believe in him either, that you were just like the others, and he had sought to prove you wrong. He laid on the blood of the warehouse, beaten bloody and waiting for his father to rescue him and wishing that you wouldn't be too despaired by his immature stupidity.
Now watching you dig the heels of your palms into your eyes, as if trying to erase what you had just seen, he felt guilty for putting you in that position. He shouldn't be here, he shouldn't have left, he shouldn't have loved you in the first place.
Still, he couldn't move.
You took a deep breath and opened your eyes, blinking a couple times at the ground before you could raise your head again.
Your shoulders slumped and your eyes began to fill with tears, "That usually works."
"(Y/N)," he whispered, reaching for you put his fingertips stopped right before crossing your windowsill as though there was a physical barrier stopping him from touching you. His hand trembled in the air before he dropped it to his side, "It’s me."
This was something he had been dreaming of every night since coming back. He dreamed of reuniting with you, of touching you again, of loving you again. But now that the opportunity was an inch away from him, he was worried that his last chance at love had died within the flames of the warehouse that night.
You stayed still, eyes flickering over him, starting with the mop of dark curls on the top of his head and raking down his face, the same features you remembered had grown more masculine. You lingered on the different scars littering his skin, analysing every inch of him with concentration that made him want to shuffle uneasily.
Your expression began to melt into uncertainty and longing the more you continued to stare at him before you suddenly gasped and stepped back, "You’re crazy, (Y/N). He's gone, this isn't really happening."
He grasped the window just as you began to close it shut, "Please, don't. I’m here, baby, I’m really here."
You stared at the hand holding your window open with furrowed brows; you hadn't expected this illusion to retaliate against you trying to end this dream.
You never opened the windows of your apartment, especially not at night. You never wanted to invite Gotham’s smog inside your home but for some reason tonight your heart had tugged you toward it with such power you thought a breath of fresh air would have done you some good.
Why? Why tonight of all nights had you opened the window? Had you even opened the window in the first place? Or had this been a cruel game played by your mind while you were asleep?
"You died," you whispered, voice barely above a decibel, "I saw you dead. You aren't really here. This doesn't make any sense."
You wanted to touch him, you wanted to feel his beating heart underneath your fingertips but you knew that he would evaporate into smoke the second you reached for him like all the other times and even though you knew you would breakdown the second you woke up from the dream, you wanted to continue looking at him and drink in his presence that you had missed so much.
Gloved fingers lifted your chin so your wet eyes could meet his and tears began streaming down your cheeks in thick rivulets, your chest collapsing from the weight of your sobs.
"I know it doesn't make any sense, but I’m here. I’m really here. And I’ve missed you so much."
You shook your head, "You’re not. You're dead."
His arms circled around you, and he brought you into a hug. Your cheek rested against the kevlar of his suit, hips digging into the windowsill as you continued to sob and despite knowing that he wasn't really here, your chest began to fill with warmth.
"I’m here, (Y/N)."
Jason stole what little breath you had left in your lungs when he leant down to capture your lips in a firm kiss, as if trying to prove to you that he was here in the flesh, with fresh blood pumping through his veins.
You sobbed against his lips and licked into his mouth, hands coming up to grasp at his hair while his own curved your back into him, melding your bodies into one.
Heavy boots thumped against your floors, knees knocking in his effort to climb through the window and shut it behind him before pressing you against it. He quickly threw off his utility belt before you had wrapped your legs around his waist to prevent any of his weapons accidentally hurting you.
You cupped his jaw, thumb brushing against the peak of his cheekbone. The action had Jason’s eyes rolling back in ecstasy, every single touch setting his body on fire, each nerve ending sparking with electricity. He kissed you harder, refusing to pull away even though he knew you were getting breathless. He could hear your gasps for air every time you parted but you still dragged him back toward you with a hand clutching the roots of his hair.
He couldn't stop, wanting to lose himself in your very soul. He could feel the heat of your body pressing against him, he could smell the familiar scent of your shampoo, his ears were filled with the sound of your sighs and your lips smacking, his tongue tasted the salt of your tears mixed with the sharp chill of spearmint tea.
He finally pulled away when you had placed a hand on his chest, pressing his forehead against you, watching with intense passion as you tried to catch your breath, his grip on your thighs not loosening.
You trailed wet lips down his throat, listening to his quiet sighs until your lips reached his jugular. You could feel his veins pulse with life underneath your lips and your chest began pounding, butterflies beginning to erupt through you.
"You’re really here? You're alive? H-how is that even possible?"
Jason nodded, only realizing then that his eyes were filling up with tears, lashes and cheeks wet once you had begun to stroke the skin beneath his ear.
"I missed you so much." you confessed, voice breaking and brows furrowing in despair.
"I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn't come sooner, I should've-I should've come sooner. I’m sorry." he whispered, trailing his lips along your shoulder, hiding his face into the crook of your neck and you sighed, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.
"You’re here," you whispered, chest shaking with a mix of sobs and elated giggles, "You're really here. You're finally here."
You both remained there, your back pressed against the frosted glass window that had fogged up slightly, legs wrapped tightly around his waist, chests pressed together.
"I’m here."
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glamourscat · 1 month ago
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Could you please write Bruce and batboys getting jealous when they meet their crush's ex boyfriend? Her ex is as rich as Bruce, handsome and a total green flag. But they broke up in a friendly term. Upon meeting him they got jealous seeing reader and her ex are still super close. Thank you ❀
Batboys + Bruce and their jealousy while meeting your ex
Author's Note: I decided to do a mix of a headcanon and a drabble for this one, I think it fits the vibes of the request. i hope you like it :) This is also so damn long but i am a yapper at heart
DICK GRAYSON
I see Dick as a very confident individual. I mean, he is self aware, he is beautiful, rich and overall a good guy. A catch right? (let's ignore the cheating for a moment...)
Though, Dick grew up in a rather unstable situation, to say the least. I see him as a person who craves his s/o attention on him, not necessarely 24/7, but enough to remind him "hey, I am here and I love you"
Still, when he does get jealous ━━ for example in this scenario where you're his crush and he is meeting your ex, who's as equally as handsome as him, not that he would admit to it. Rich as Bruce and a green flag on top of that?━━ damn, he is cooked lol.
His jealousy will probably stem from insecurity. Because, if this guy is rich, beautiful and a green flag too, what does Dick have to offer now? If they are on the same level, or worse, your ex is slightly higher than him ━━ truly, what cards are left for him to play?
And so, I think he would feel insecure for a moment and thats where being overly into PDA comes into place. MORE UNDER THE CUT
"You’re awfully close today. I mean, it’s not like I’m complaining, but
 are you sure you're alright, Dick?" you say with a small, soft chuckle as you look at the black-haired guy who just linked his arm with yours.
"Yeah
 yeah, of course! Why wouldn’t I be?" he says, offering a smile that’s a bit too tight, a bit too forced for your liking. It’s not like you're a fool; you know exactly what the problem is. You saw the way he reacted when, walking casually through Gotham, you two happened to run into your ex by pure coincidence.
His eye twitched slightly, and his gaze was darting back and forth between you and your ex. You noticed the way his arm tightened around your waist, as if to say, Back off. If you had any doubts about whether he liked you before, now you have your answer.
JASON TODD
When I think of Jay, I imagine a healed version of him. I know people like to imagine him as this broken soul, and I’m not saying he isn’t; he has his fair share of trauma. But I like to think that from coming back as Red Hood to now, the present Jason Todd, he is a changed man.
He’s no longer the insecure, abrasive teen who swore nothing but vengeance and payback for what happened to him. He has accepted what happened; that doesn’t mean he forgot, nor does this mean he forgives Bruce. It just means he has the emotional capacity to be more confident in his own being.
So, how would he react upon meeting his crush’s ex? Well, chances are, if you’re Jason’s crush, you two are friends. He’s good at many things, but flirting, romance, and putting himself out there are not some of those. By being close friends, he is probably already aware of some aspects of your past, including your ex.
Thus, when he meets your ex, he is probably as nonchalant as ever. Does he feel a bit jealous? Maybe. Will those insecurities that have haunted and stained his past try to resurface, making him second-guess himself? Also yes. But he has grown enough to know he’s better than that.
"Jay?" Your voice is soft as feathers as you look at him. His green-blue eyes are focused on browsing the books on the shelves in front of you two, as silence fills the air in the small bookshop where you two had, by chance, met your ex just moments prior.
"Hm?" he hums, not taking his eyes off the books, but keeping an eye on you with his peripheral vision.
"Are you okay? You're awfully quiet. Did I say something wrong, or
?" You trail off, but he cuts you off.
"Nope, nothing's wrong. I'm just looking for a book," he says, moving to the romance section. "You like this?" His voice is quiet, yet it holds a softness to it as he shows you a book he damn well knows is your favorite.
"I mean, yeah. It’s my favorite. Why?" Your tone is slightly confused, just as quiet as his.
He shrugs as he places the book in the small hand basket he’s holding. "Nothing. Just thought I’d buy it. I trust you and your opinion. If you say it’s good, then it is."
He knows that in that moment, not giving in, not allowing those negative emotions to resurface as they did in the past, was the best choice he could’ve made if it meant seeing your smile—so timid yet flustered—with those rosy cheeks of yours, as you try to hide your giddiness from his words.
TIM DRAKE
Ah, my favorite little gremlin. The issue I have with Tim is not with Tim himself, but with the fandom that constantly mischaracterizes him.
I’m not even going to get into the coffee addict recurring joke, but I want to focus on one thing. "Precious bean Tim". This guy is absolutely unhinged. Dick, Jason, and Damian all had their moments, but Tim? His whole being is centered around being a sarcastic, witty little shit who does the most unhinged things, and somehow, people always give him a pass. (I mean... do we need to talk about his red robin run? Or when he was dating two people at once? Or when it's canon that at first impression people feel judged by him?)
My point is, Tim is literally out of his mind lol. He struggles a lot with his emotions, we see this in his Red Robin run, how obsessive he became over the idea of finding Bruce, someone he cares for. He was spiraling bad.
His jealousy manifests in possessiveness. Mine, mine, mine. Let's not forget that Tim lost his mother, watched his father die too. He is messed up emotionally, because everything that was his has always been taken from him one way or another. First his parents, then robin mantle by Damian and even his best friend (or lover) Kon at somepoint.
"You're pouting."
"No, I am not." He says, while comically enough, pouting more. It had been about 30 minutes, give or take, since you two came back from the movie theatre. Where you and Tim had to sit through an almost 2 hours long movie with your ex as the main lead.
Was he pissed? no, no, no... why would he be? Absolutely no. Him? Tim Drake? Jealous? Pff. Definitely wasn't. And yet, he kept pressing each key of his keyboard so hard, as he typed, that you feared it might come flying at his face very soon.
"If you're jealous you can just say so you know." You say with a half amused grin. If he wanted to act like a brat, might as well enjoy it. "I mean, who wouldn't be right? My ex is after all, rich, handsome, a great ac-" your words are cut off as his face he is pretty much pressed against yours.
When the hell did he come on the bed? He was sitting at his desk just a moment ago...
"Shut up" he scoffs as his cold nose nudges yours, his hand goes to the back of your head pulling you in for a kiss. and what a kiss. His lips, slightly chapped and cold, meet yours with such ferocity you're left stunned. His body has yours pressed on his bed, as he straddles your lap. Your tongues meet as he lets out a quiet little moan as your hands go in his soft raven hair.
"fuck- i am sorry" he pants gulping, cheeks red and eyes wide, as he pulls back after a few moments in a panic. what the fuck had he just done?
"You shut up now." you say with a little grin, equally as breathless as him, as you bring back your lips against his. Losing each other in a kiss that would be just the beginning of a beautiful imperfect thing.
BRUCE WAYNE
Now, Bruce was hard to crack, for me at least. Because, I think depending on the person, the situation and how he is feeling at the current moment, he can be like any of his sons.
His jealousy is not driven by insecurity or possessiveness in the conventional sense, like Dick’s or Tim's would. Not necesseraily.
I mean, we are talking about a man with his fair share of lovers
I think his jealousy would stem from his deep emotional connections and the high stakes involved in his relationships. Sure, Tim, Dick and Jason are all vigilantes too, but Bruce is the Batman. he cannot afford, he does not have the luxury, of dating who he wants just because. It's either flings or a deep emotional connection with him.
We see him getting jealous with Selina, for example, when he feels his emotional connection getting threatened by other men she is flirting with. His jealousy is so damn complex and subtle and sometimes it shows up as in actions and decision making rather than extensive show off of jealousy.
That's why I think if he has a crush on a woman (or man), his attidute will depend on the situation they find themselves in. He might become overall more vigilant, assertive or distant base on how the event will play out.
© GLAMOURSCAT (all rights reserved. do not share, modify, translate and re-upload my work outside of tumblr)
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Text
Is it a curse that keeps the dead alive? (is it the love dripping from my tongue?)
Day 6 of The Long Halloween - event masterlist here
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pairing: jason todd x reader (gender neutral)
length: 8.2k
genre: horror, fluff sort of, hurt/comfort
warnings: poltergeist jason, lots of talk about grief/death, unhealthy drinking habits, reader is almost mugged, brief/vague talk of suicide
a/n: sometimes all you need for halloween is to tongue kiss a ghost yk anyway enjooooooy <3
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Staying in Gotham after Jason's death had felt like a bad decision that you couldn't shake, just like loving him had always felt like a bad habit that you couldn't break. There was a part of you that always knew that you should leave, that staying in this place where the memory of him haunted you like a ghost was doing nothing but turning you into a phantom, yourself - a whisper of what you used to be.
There's a part of you, you think, that died with him, that crumbled to dust and now lays somewhere on a street hidden in a corner of this endless, cursed city. You should've left, you know. You should've run when you had the chance. But you didn't. And now here you remain, feet rooted to the ground in this terrible place, the feeling of your dead lover haunting your every move. You should've left, but you didn't - and now you can't help but cling to whatever pieces of him you have left, even as you feel them pulling you further from the living. 
"These drafts are, uh," your editor chews on her lip as she speaks, tapping her pen against the stack of paper on her lap. "Well -"
"What?" you snap. She holds her hands up in defence.
"They're just
 a little dark, is all. It's not - they're not like your other novels."
"Am I not allowed to change?" you ask dully. "Am I stuck here? Can I not
 can I not take a step forward?"
You should've left, but you couldn't, because the only pieces that you have left of Jason are Gotham -  the Bowery and the streets of it, the bricks of the alleyways and the cracked concrete of the sidewalks. The apartment that you'd planned on getting with him, with its rickety fire escape and paint peeling from the walls. All these pieces, all these reasons to cling to and keep you here. It's like a curse, this place, and you were trapped before you ever even realized it. 
"That's not what I'm saying," your editor sighs. "I'm just
 a little concerned is all. I don't want you to get lost in this."
"I'm not lost," you shoot back, the words a rushed tumble falling from your lips, a fearful assurance for yourself more than her, perhaps. "I'm not. I know exactly where I am."
"And where is that?" She arches a manicured brow as she watches you. The clock on the wall ticks on and on and you think, perhaps, that this must be what it feels like to be an animal caught in a snare. You stare back at her, waiting, waiting, waiting for something to happen, for someone to pull you out of this place
 but you're not sure there's anyone left to take your hand these days.
"
I'm right here," you offer eventually, your voice quiet in the echoing room.
"Right," she sighs. "You should
 go away for a while, I think. Take a vacation."
"A vacation?" you echo. She nods and hums in affirmation. "Where?"
"Wherever you want," she shrugs. "Anywhere
 anywhere but here."
"Where would I be," you say slowly, "if not for right here?"
"It's just to, you know," she sighs, tapping her nails on the stack of paper as she searches for the right words, as she looks and looks and looks for the way out. "Just to get away from it all for a little while. Get away from this place and these drafts and the - your, um,"
"My dead boyfriend?" you offer dryly. She shoots you an exasperated look.
"Your grief," she corrects. "Get away from your grief before it kills you, too."
You wonder sometimes if Jason knew that, even when you didn't. If he knew, all of those nights that you spent crying and pleading with him to be safe, to be careful, to not go out there to die. You wonder if he knew that it was some kind of curse, that this city traps you and ensnares you and chokes the outside world. 
Not that it matters, you think dully, now that he's dead.
"Is this because of the Red Hood?" your editor asks bluntly. You blink.
"Pardon?" 
"The new novels, the - the horrors that you write now. Is it because of the phantom?" she clarifies. You straighten where you sit, shifting in your seat.
"They're just
 ghost stories," you say slowly. "The Red Hood's not - he's not real."
"I'm not saying he is," she sighs. "I'm just
 Jason died and that changed you and I get that. But these weird
 these weird rumours start popping up all over the city and suddenly the only books you'll write are about
 about -"
"Ghost stories?" you prompt.
"Dead people!" she exclaims before sighing and brushing a stray hair out of her face. "I just
 I just don't want to see you get stuck in this is all."
"I think," you say pointedly, rolling your shoulders back and settling further into your chair, "that it's a bit too late for that."
Dead, sure, but not gone. Even after his death, it's like he's still here. It's an ever-heavy presence laying over your shoulders and wrapping around you. Sometimes you swear you can even feel his breath on your cheek.
But that's crazy, you tell yourself. It can't be real. He's gone, he's gone, he's gone.
It's years after Jason's death that stories begin to spread around the Bowery - rumours of a hulking, shadowed figure stalking through the alleyways at night, intangible and uncatchable and melting into nothing whenever he's close to getting caught. People murmur about seeing streaks of red out of the corner of their eyes and a hooded figure hiding in the darkness. People whisper, people talk.
The Red Hood, they began to call him.
It scares people, notably - everyone at first. But then a pattern begins to emerge, and the story surrounding the Red Hood begins to shift. It's the criminals that begin to taste fear, that begin to shrink away from the darkness of night and the nooks and corners that they used to call home. It's the violence that begins to shift, turning against the perpetrators.
The Bowery's protector, he begins to be known as. Some sort of guardian angel, stalking the dangerous back alleys and keeping people safe in the depths of the endless night.
You hear the stories, of course, for you also call the Bowery home. And sure, a part of you thinks that it must be nonsense, must be some kind of trick of the night or hallucination spun from living endlessly in this closed-off city. But you've felt it, of course - the presence of someone watching, lurking, trailing after you. You swear that you've seen it, the streak of red like a splash of blood against the blackened backdrop of night. 
You swear that there's something out there
 and you swear that he's got his eye on you.
The first time you really encounter the Red Hood, you're sitting on the rooftop of your apartment building, one beer cracked open for yourself and a second sitting next to you, untouched. It's never opened - Jason's not there to share it with you. He never will be again, you know, you know, you know. But there's something that feels so wrong about doing things for just you instead of for the both of you, and you're not sure that you would be able to stand the idea of grabbing one beer from the fridge and drinking it alone.
But you are alone, you know, and you swing your legs over the edge and look up at the stars alone, your breath coming out in cold, foggy puffs. He'd sit with you, back when he was still alive. He'd point up at the stars through the cloud-splotched sky and tell you about the constellations, outlining the stories and the histories as he traced a hand up and down your spine and pressed gentle kisses to the crown of your head. 
You look at the sky tonight and you think about the big, wide world beyond this city, beyond the tangled snare of this life and the way that it haunts. And it's like you can feel it, the knotted wires twisting around your ankles and keeping you rooted here.
But then you tip your head down to stare toward the tangled mess of the city beneath you and you think of the Red Hood, of the shadow stalking the streets below. A shudder passes through you as you feel it, the weight of that unknown presence, and you can't help but wonder if it's Jason who's still here - if he's still holding on for you in some way.
Selfish, you think harshly as you clench your fists and stand, bleary-eyed from lack of sleep and stumbling. Your head swims as you pull yourself to your feet, and you teeter for a moment as you slip on the edge of the roof. 
But just as your heart lurches in your chest, just as you feel yourself tip off the edge, everything sort of
 pauses for a minute. No one ever thinks they're really going to be the one to fall drunk off of a roof to their death - but here you are, balancing so precariously on the ledge between life and death.
Something sort of
 catches you, then - an arm wraps around your waist and hauls you back up onto the safe, steady ground, notably far, far away from the ledge. And you swear to god you see it - the shadowy outline of a figure, the halo of red, the bite of cold flashing through you. 
You spin around, wildly looking around the empty rooftop and letting your heart sink back into your chest as you find yourself alone, standing next to the roof access door. As you reach for the doorknob, your heart still spinning from the ordeal, you glance back at where you were sitting.
Your heart lurches again, then, finding its way to your throat as you stare at the empty beer bottle that sits on the ledge, your fingerprints still smudging the condensation on it. The second bottle, you realize
 is gone, disappeared along with whoever or whatever saved you from the fall. 
As you stumble back into your apartment, locking the door behind you with trembling fingers, you can't help but feel like you're not quite alone - like something that used to be out there is now
 in here. 
It's weeks later when the Red Hood makes his appearance again. You're sitting on your fire escape late in the evening, the metal hot to the touch as the moon hangs low and the summer air sits heavy and humid. Two glasses of lemonade sit next to you, yours half-empty and dripping condensation in the heat that wraps around everything, choking everything that it touches. Jason's, of course, sits untouched beside you, but it sits nonetheless - like he'll walk out any minute to join you, to sit next to you and crack the ice cubes on his teeth.
You're looking through old pictures of the two of you, boxes of them that typically stay hidden and buried in the back of your closet having been pulled out and dusted off. You're not sure why, but there's something lately that's made you want to remember him more than usual - something that's made you want to see him. 
But one of those hot, sticky gusts of summer wind blows through and a picture flutters out of the box and away - despite your desperate, rushed scramble to lean over the railing to try to grab it. It's agonizing, perhaps more than it should be. With so few tangible memories of him left, you don't feel like you can afford to lose any small scraps. It's like he's slipping through your fingers more and more each day, and you start to realize in a sinking sort of way, that even the dead will always have further to fall, further to disappear.
You're hanging over the railing, staring forlornly down into the darkness when the photo just sort of
 floats back up toward you. It's like it was tossed by someone or something down below, some unseeable force pushing it back up and toward your chest. But as you snatch it in your hand and lean a bit further to peer down toward the ground, all you manage to see is a quick stripe of red blurring through the shadows in the corner of your vision. There's nothing else
 nothing besides the endless darkness and the twisting maze-like trap of the city.
When you sigh and sit back down, thumbing the photo as you grip onto it and letting your shoulders slump with a deep exhale, you reach for your lemonade. But the second glass, you find, is
 empty, with wet fingerprints breaking through the layer of condensation on it and the ice missing, too.
Turning away sharply to look down at your hands, you realize that the photo that you're holding is one of you and Jason on Halloween years ago, matching ghost-like costume makeup smudged across your faces. 
And so it begins, this routine that the two of you have. It's no replacement for Jason, sure - this strange, shadowed spirit that seems to trail after you, that seems to haunt your every move and tangle around you like the curse of this place. It is no replacement for the love of the living, but it's something - it's someone, and it makes you feel just a little less alone.
It's when you're walking home one night, winding through the twisted, maze-like alleyways and streets with nothing but the dull light of the moon to guide you, when you think that maybe this will be the night that you're unlucky. You know where you live - you know that it's really only dumb luck that you haven't been mugged yet, haven't been backed into a dark corner with no one to turn to and nowhere to run.
It's a cornerstone of this city, perhaps, to be so trapped
 to be caught in this web before you even know to be afraid.
So when it begins to happen, when you're pressed into a corner, the brick wall cold and piercing against your back and your heart in your throat, you think that it's probably just time for the inevitable.
But then you think of Jason, of how kind and caring he was and how protective he was. You think of how he'd walk you home late at night to make sure that you were safe, how you'd wave down to him from the fire escape of your apartment and blow him a kiss from above. You wonder, in that hazy, fearful sort of way that seems to happen when death comes knocking at your door, if he was afraid when he died, somewhere in some back alley like this. You wonder if he thought of you, of the fact that he'd never come home safely that night, of the fact that he was leaving you.
There's something that lurches painfully in your throat as you press yourself further against the wall and you think of him in your place, with those kind, gentle eyes of his and those hands that didn't quite know how to do harm yet.
Sometimes you think that Jason was just too good for this place - that he deserved something much more than this crawling city could give him. And maybe, you think as a knife glints in front of you, the yellow of the streetlight illuminating your oncoming death. Maybe dying is the only way out of this godforsaken curse.
But then something
 changes. The air shifts - the shadows dance. A streak of red slices between you and your threat and you hear a scream and a bloody gurgle of pain and maybe even a gunshot. You see the figure in front of you, wrapped in shadow and striking reds. You see the way that the streetlight goes right through him and the way that the shine of the moon can't quite seem to touch him
 and you see the body of the man who'd been threatening you, too, blood-soaked and unmoving on the ground.
You stare down at him, your eyes wide and unblinking as you watch blood pool into the cracks and crevices of the crumbling asphalt beneath you and you consider how many of you have died like this - silent and ignored, like a rat in a back alley that's seen as nothing more than a nuisance
 another body to step over, another lost cause finally gone.
The body doesn't move and a shaky, whimpering exhale leaves your lips as you lean heavily against the brick wall, your knees trembling and your hands cold. It could've been you tonight - it was Jason, once. There is a death that stalks these streets and something saved you tonight, you're sure. Something that shouldn't have been there.
Sure enough, that strange, hulking figure is still there, standing in front of you for the first time after flitting past you, unseen, for so long. You see him tangibly, solidly - you see his stance and the way he rolls his shoulders back and clenches his fists. 
You see Jason standing in front of you - a ghost of what he used to be, a haunting memory seeping into reality before your wide, unsteady eyes.
"Jason
" your voice is a whisper, nothing more than a murmur cutting through the silent, still night. You're sure that you've gone crazy, of course. You think that maybe that man really had killed you and this is some hazy, cursed afterlife
 some way of trapping you here in this moment and this agony even in death. You think - but you say his name, whisper it to him like a prayer and you wait, frozen, for an answer from above.
He turns to you slowly, and it seems that it's his turn to act like he's seen a ghost, spinning to face you and staring, wide-eyed and silent. You see him, just for a moment, and you know now that it's him, that it's Jason.
"Jason, I - no, wait, please -," Perhaps it's because he's afraid, you think desperately. Or perhaps it's - perhaps you've gone insane. He fades from in front of you, vaporizing into the endless shadows of the city and leaving you alone in the alleyway.
Alone, alone, alone. 
Even in death, you're still losing him. Even in death, he's still slipping further and further from your fingers, squirming from your grasp until not even his memory is left to haunt you. 
He's gone, and there's nothing but you and an unmoving corpse in a dark corner of a dark city, and when you stumble home slowly that night, there's a silence and a stillness that makes your skin crawl and your hands twitch. 
Even in the days that follow that incident, the presence is just
 gone. It leaves you reeling, of course, wondering endlessly if it was real, if the shadowy, blood-soaked protector of the Bowery is Jason, in one form or another. 
But even if it is the ghost of him, you think, staring at the photo of him that you keep tucked into a corner of your wallet. Even if it is some phantom memory of him, some piece that couldn't die - couldn't get away from this place
 is it even really him? Is it enough, you think, to have just the shadow of his life?
It plagues you as the days roll by, and you find yourself wandering endlessly, both inside your home and out in the winding, maze-like streets, like you're looking for something that you know doesn't exist. It's like you're searching for some kind of way out, waiting for a sign or an omen or another blood-soaked body in the back of an alley to rise from the dead and tell you what to feel. 
But time drags on ceaselessly in a city that grows inward, that tangles itself endlessly together until it traps you. And as that time rolls by, you begin to get more
 desperate.
You want to see him again - you need to see him again. And you figure
 there has to be a way to make him appear - just once, just to see if you're right, if it's really him and he's really haunting you. 
That's how you find yourself, one night, up on the rooftop of your building once again. One mostly empty beer bottle sits next to you with a second, untouched one placed caringly beside it as you stand on the concrete ledge and let the breeze blow into you.
You wonder briefly, as you peer over the edge, what it would be like to be nothing, to have the wind blow right through you and never feel the cold. You gaze down, down, down towards the darkened depths of the city as night blankets the buildings and muffles the life there. It's odd, you think, to look at it all from this height - to stand above it like this. It's odd to feel so separate and yet
 trapped, still. Trapped
 always.
You toe at the concrete edge and wrap your arms around your waist as the end-of-summer breeze brings in the cooler air and makes you shiver. You think that perhaps this is going a bit too far - perhaps you've gone a bit too crazy and this will be the end of you. Maybe there is no place here for the living and all that's left for you in this forsaken curse is to join the dead, one way or another.
You consider, as you stare down into the depths, being buried next to Jason if this kills you. But then you consider being buried somewhere outside of Gotham - because maybe then you could finally escape this place, even if it really is only in death.
But then, as you lift one foot and let it swing over the edge, you think that perhaps you
 don't even really want that. Perhaps you can't even stand to think about it. Perhaps there is some part of Jason tied to this place because that's really what gets you
 you don't want to break free of it.
You get a bit distracted, admittedly, thinking about all this and turning it over in your mind, and you let your foot hover over the empty space, staring down at the city below. You're so distracted that it catches you off guard, the firm arm that wraps around your waist and hauls you away from the ledge, dragging you to safety. 
The breath catches in your lungs from the force of it, from the strength of the tug that pulls you endlessly away from that tipping point between life and death and steadies you on your feet. You're reeling from the force of it still when you hear a voice - his voice. Jason's voice
 for the first time since his death, all of those years ago. 
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he begins, a hysterical edge in his voice. "Do you have any idea how dangerous that was? What if I hadn't been there? You could've - god, you could've died." He's going on and on, trembling and tugging at his hair and babbling about how he doesn't know what you were thinking and how dangerous that was and how he's been trying so hard to keep you safe but you're out here doing things like this and
 
And you stare, wide-eyed, at the ghost of your lover as he stands before you and speaks to you in a voice that you almost recognize. It's different, notably, scratchy and warbling in a way that it wasn't before. But it's Jason's, still, and you'd know that voice anywhere, from anyone
 even in death.
He looks
 dead, mostly, you note. Pale-faced with dark circles under his eyes, cheeks sunken and face hollow. He looks
 ashen - empty and unwell and
 dead. He looks dead. 
But he's standing in front of you and chewing you out for being so reckless, scolding you for not taking care of yourself and you're just sort of
 stunned. Your head spins and your hands shake and it's like you can't breathe as your lungs turn to ice. You can still feel it, you're sure, the weight of his arm around your waist -  you can still feel the strength of him haul you away from the ledge that you were so precariously tipping over.
You can feel the ghost of the man that you once loved saving you from becoming what he is now.
"Jason
" you whisper his name and his jaw snaps shut as he stares, unblinking and unmoving as you fall apart in front of him. If he were still alive, you realize, all of that shouting and carrying on would have him here heaving for breath while his heart hammers. But he's dead, you remind yourself, and you can't help but sink to your knees, crumbling under the weight of it all, under the weight of the man that you loved and lost standing in front of you and looking so hollow but so whole at the same time.
Your hands shake and your lungs tremble and you feel lost in the maze of it all more than ever before as everything spins and spins and spins around you. But he sees you start to buckle, start to crumble towards the ground and Jason reaches for you, gripping you around the waist and keeping you somewhat upright.
When you reach for him in shock, gripping onto the dull red of his tattered hoodie, you feel him, solid and real and tangible as he presses against you. He's real, even as a memory, even as a phantom of who he used to be. He's real. You whisper his name again as you look up at him and it's like it all comes to a halt, like the wind stops blowing and the stars stop blinking as you look at the man that you love and you find him again for the first time
 even in death. 
There the two of you stand, face to face, dead and alive. He's looking at you like you're the ghost, wide-eyed and shocked and staring at you like he loves you still. And you're pressing against him - and he's cold to the touch like he never was before, the heart in his chest silent as he looks down at you.
But he's Jason and he's here and he's more alive than he's been to you in years.
"Jason
" you say his name again like a prayer, like a plea. You say it while you stand so close to him that your breath would be mingling with his if he still had anything to breathe and your hands tighten on his hoodie at the reminder
 at the remembrance that he's so, so far from you, even now.
It's almost as if he remembers this at the same time as you, because he pulls away from you in a jerking, shocked action, stumbling away and leaving you to stumble on your own. He steps back so fast that he trips on his own feet and there's a look of anguish in him suddenly, like he's remembering that he's not supposed to be here - that he's not allowed to live anymore. 
"Jason," it's a shrill, desperate yell this time that comes from you as you watch him begin to fade, begin to melt into the mist of the night and leave you once more. You call out to him with a wretchedness that he's not sure he's ever heard before in life or in death
 with a need that makes him feel almost alive, almost real.
It makes him stumble, makes him hesitate as he stares, eyes wild and sparking with something almost akin to life. It makes him snap back into solid form again. You make him whole again, just for a moment. 
He says your name, a whisper over the breeze, a small noise swallowed by the night, and the shock begins to rattle and drain from your body in heavy, gasping breaths as you double over and sob, falling to your knees fully this time so that you can weep into your hands and hide your face from view. There's nothing from him for a moment, and you're petrified that if you look up, he'll be gone again, nothing but a shadow of the night, nothing but a memory faded by pain.
But he proves you wrong - takes you by surprise, just like he always could. He moves toward you like he's pulled by some invisible thread tangling around the two of you and winding your lives and deaths together that he can't quite untangle himself from. He moves to you like he loves you, still, even in death.
When his cold, undead hands cup your face and begin to wipe away your tears, when his bluish lips press against your forehead and he shushes you in that gentle, loving way of his, you find that maybe being trapped here isn't so bad.
"You can't do that," you whisper as he crouches in front of you, his hands wiping away endless tears that roll down your cheeks and his brows bunching together as he frowns. "You can't leave me like that - not again. I can't - I can't do it again."
"I'm sorry," he starts with, and a part of your heart lurches until he says, "I won't - I won't leave you ever again. There is nothing that can take me from you now." Just as he's begun to smooth the wet tracks from your cheeks, though, the mist around you dampens further into rain and you watch as it goes right through him, as it hits the ground beneath his feet and soaks the pale concrete.
"Jason, I need
" you begin as you stare at the ground through him. "You need to tell me what's been going on."
It's odd, you find, to have him in your home again, to watch him stand in your kitchen and make a cup of tea - just one cup, you notice, while you dry your hair from the rain. He'd ushered you out of the cold, pushing you with gentle, tender hands until you were back inside the safety of your apartment and looking up at him with wide, hopeful eyes. 
The kiss that he'd pressed to your forehead was quick, a hesitant sort of thing as he'd delicately guided you to the bathroom to clean up and get warm. As you stood in the doorway and watched him waft toward your kitchen, something had flipped in your gut at how normal it felt to have him back in your life and your home, even if you could see the kitchen lights shining through him and onto you. 
By the time you come out into the kitchen, he's pushing a steaming cup of tea towards you as you sit on a stool at your counter, letting your hands wrap around the ceramic to soak up the warmth. 
"How is it that you can, um," you begin, frowning down at your tea. When you glance up at him sheepishly, he just grins in that kind way of his, the gesture juxtaposing the gaunt, hollow look on his face. 
"It's ok," he prompts gently and you sigh.
"How can you
 touch and hold things and
 and be?" you ask slowly. This time, when he smiles, the only thing that shines through is love.
"Well it's - it's because of you, baby," he says simply. You blink at him, staring as you frown.
"What?"
"It's, I don't know - it's just what poltergeists do, I guess," Jason shrugs as he shifts on his feet. "We cause trouble, we wreak havoc. It's what I do."
"I don't know," you say, huffing out a laugh. "I'm not sure keeping the Bowery safe counts as wreaking havoc. I mean, the only people you're causing trouble for are the people who probably deserve it. And you're
 you're keeping me safe. And - and my home. You're keeping our home safe." You clear your throat after you speak, pointedly looking away from him and out your window, instead, feeling heat seep into your cheeks as you stare at the way the rain quickens into a downpour outside. 
"I have to," Jason says quietly, and the sombre tone of his voice makes your gaze snap back to him. "I couldn't
 I couldn't do it when I was alive. But I can do things now
 I can be things that I couldn't before."
"But how, Jay?" you sigh. "What do you mean when you say it's me?" He laughs a bit at that, then, leaning across the counter to kiss your cheek and feeling a spark of delight zip warmth through his chest for the first time since his heart stopped beating when you lean forward subconsciously to let him love on you. 
"You've been leaving things out for me, baby."
"Hm?" is your only response. Jason looks at you pointedly and you chew your lip for a moment before he glances down at the tea in your hands and you perk up.
"Oh my god," you splutter, and he laughs a bit at your gasp. "The beer, the lemonade, the  - everything. It really was you."
"Yea, baby," he says easily. "Every
 all the drinks, the extra plates of food, the - everything like that. You were paying tribute to a ghost, babe. You were keeping me here." You sit with that for a moment, letting your fingers tighten around the cooling ceramic of your mug as your head spins from Jason's words, with the knowledge that you really had spent all this time keeping the dead alive, in a way. 
"Why'd you
" you begin, shifting in your seat as you search for the words. "Why'd you stay here, though? This place
 it chokes the life out of people, Jay. It really choked the life out of you." You wrinkle your nose in immediate regret as you say the ill-timed joke, but Jason just laughs and presses another cold kiss to your cheek and you relax ever so slightly under the comfort of it all. "Why would you stay trapped in a place like this? Even in death?"
"Because of you, baby," he says gently, and his fingers tangle together as he eyes your hands, like he wants so desperately to reach for you but he just can't bring himself to. "I'm tied to you. Your love and your gifts and your
 your remembering of me - that's what's keeping me around. I'm not tied to this city like a curse anymore. I'm tied
 just to you. To your - to your love."
"Jason," you begin, your voice wavering as you feel tears begin to pool in your eyes, but he just continues.
"I've been trying, you know, this whole time," he says in a rush. "I've been trying to watch you - watch over you, keep you safe and all that. I've been trying to repay you for keeping me alive, sort of. I've been - I've been trying to make it worth it for you."
"I wasn't
" you begin carefully. "You don't have to do that for me. You don't have to make it worth my while. I just - I just missed you, Jason. I just wanted you back. Why didn't you come back to me?" Your voice cracks at the end as tears blur your vision and Jason shrinks back in a way that you've never seen before, curling into himself. He looks small, scared and insecure in a way that you're not used to seeing from him, even in life.
"Baby, I'm - I'm dead," he says heavily. "I look dead. I'm
 I'm hollow and I'm rotting away and I didn't - I couldn't let you see me like that." 
"Oh, Jason
" you say softly, but he steps away from the counter, away from you, and rubs harshly at his eyes with the palms of his hands as his shoulders bunch up. Under the light of your kitchen, his skin looks thin, stretched over bones too tightly as it shines with a waxy, unnatural, yellowish tinge. 
"I can't be who I was before," he says desperately, keeping his face hidden in his hands as he all but doubles over, his voice trembling and cracking. "I can't - I - I want you to remember me, remember me for who I was, not - not this thing that I am now. I just
 I wanted you to remember me well."
You abandon your cup of tea at his outburst, retracting your hands from the warmth of it so that you can make your way around the counter and toward him. 
"Come here," you offer gently as you jump up to sit on the counter in front of him, waving him over with one of your hands. Jason looks at you for a moment, wary and sniffling, but even now he finds himself incapable of denying you and his feet bring him, stumbling, toward you despite his protests.
You widen your legs for him, letting him slot his hips between your thighs as you wrap your fingers around the red fabric of his hoodie and pull him closer to you. It's the hoodie that he died in, you note as you thumb at the fabric, at the tears and loose threads. It's the hoodie that he was wearing when he walked out your door and never came back.
But now he's here, trembling and looking down like he can't bear the sight of whatever disappointment, whatever hatred he's sure you'll look at him with. But you just cup his face in your hands, his skin cold as you smooth your palms over his cheeks and coax him ever so gently to look up at you. Then, slowly
 slowly, you lean forward to press your lips against his, the bluish tinge of his lips chilled against your own. 
There's a sound that he makes somewhere in the back of his throat, nervous and shocked and disbelieving as you part from his lips only to press a series of gentler, slower kisses across his face. You cover the sunken hollows of his cheeks and the darkened circles under his eyes and the pale, waxy skin of his fluttered-closed eyelids. You cover every surface until you find his lips again, and you can't help but be a bit delighted this time when he kisses you back, letting his tongue push against the seam of your lips as his hands grip onto your hips tightly.
"Jason," you murmur quietly, breaking away just enough to suck in a breath. He hums in question, his lips chasing yours, but you huff out a laugh and tap him chastisingly on the lips. "I still have to breathe, you know, even if you don't."
"Sorry, baby," he says sweetly, turning to trail kisses down your neck, instead, but you only indulge him for a moment before you're cupping his cheeks against and guiding him gently to look at you. 
"I love you, you know
 completely," you say honestly, and he tries to shift and look away but you tighten your grip on his cheeks so that he's forced to look at you. You know, of course, that he could leave if he wanted to - could vanish into thin air and melt from your grasp once again. You know that he's here because he's choosing to be, because he loves you, because he worships you, but never because he's trapped with you.
"Baby
"
"No, Jay, listen. I love you endlessly, through death and beyond. I promise, baby. I'll
 I'll promise you as many times as you need to hear it. I love you tonight just as much as I loved you the night that I lost you. Nothing
 nothing could change that."
"You didn't lose me," he murmurs back, leaning to press his forehead against yours and let his eyes flutter shut. "You didn't. Not - not forever, at least. I'm here. I'm here, I'm - I'm so sorry for leaving you, baby."
"Don't you apologize for it, Jay," you whisper back, letting one of your hands press against his chest where his heart used to beat and feeling nothing but the dull cold that radiates from him now. "Don't you apologize for shit that isn't your fault."
"I'm story I stayed away for so long, then," he amends, and you pull back to smile at him fondly, your eyes full of nothing but love as you run a hand through his hair, as brittle and dry as it is now.
"You came back, though, didn't you? You came back to me," you say easily, and you're sure that if his lungs still had use he would sigh one of those heavy, deep sighs that he's so fond of. Maybe that really is the curse, you think. No matter how far you run, you always end up right back in this place. 
"I did, yea, I -," Jason clears his throat, tipping his head back to stare at the ceiling. You let him, smoothing your hands up and down his chest as you feel him clenching his fingers against your hips. "I'll always come back to you," he ends up saying firmly, tilting his head back down to look at you once more. There's something in him now, a promise, a passion - and it flits through his eyes so deeply that he almost looks alive. "I'll always come back to you."
"I know you will, baby," you say softly, one of your hands finding the back of his neck to pull him toward you again. "I know you will." When you kiss him this time, there's no hesitance, no fear - not from either of you. 
When he buries his head in your shoulder to weep, his face pressed against the skin of your neck so that you can feel his tears, icy and wet, trailing over your skin, you bury your hand in his hair and shush him gently, rocking him back and forth as he sobs. That night, with the storm raging outside and tearing through the winding, tangled streets of Gotham, the two of you remain in the confines of your home. That night, you learn that ghosts can still cry. You learn that they can still love. 
It's shocking, to say the least, when you wake the next morning to learn that the storm has passed and the sun's broken through the clouds just ever so slightly. The gaps in the darkened overhang filter shattering, slender beams of light onto the dark and tangled city below, illuminating cracks and crevices that have been unseen for so long. 
Ghosts can't sleep, you know, but you wake with Jason in your bed, anyway, holding you and soothing you and pulling the blanket up around you while you doze against his chest.
"Did you stay here all night?" you murmur against him, and you feel him hum in affirmation.
"Of course," Jason responds easily, his voice hushed and low as he soothes you with his hands. "Where else would I be, if not right here with you?"
"Fighting crime," you mumble, and this time his laughter shakes his chest enough that it jostles you, much to your half-asleep displeasure. "No, I'm serious," you continue. "I hear there's some crazy smuggling going on at the docks - someone even said they saw a mermaid on one of the cargo ships."
"A mermaid?" Jason muses. "In Gotham? I think you need some more sleep, baby."
"You're no fun," you quip back, but you close your eyes and curl closer to him regardless as he laughs.
"I think I'll stick to the Bowery for now," he soothes. "Someone else can deal with whatever circus is going on down at the docks."
"Yea, but what about last night?" you sigh sleepily as Jason traces a hand up and down your spine. "How do you think the Bowery fared without the Red Hood protecting it for the night?"
"I feel like
" he responds slowly. "You're making fun of me."
"No," you say quickly. "Wouldn't dream of it." His finger flicks you gently on the forehead and you giggle, keeping your eyes closed and your face buried in his chest. 
"Even the Red Hood deserves a night off every now and then
 right?" At the hesitance in his voice, the thin warble of insecurity seeping in, you open your eyes and tug yourself up and away from him so that you can give him one of your soft, gentle smiles and kiss him on the cheek.
"Endlessly, yes," you say simply, and it relaxes him enough that he lets his shoulders drop and he tugs you back toward him, settling you against his chest once more and coaxing you to close your eyes. His skin presses against yours as he pulls the blankets up around your shoulders and tucks them in carefully, and you can't help but hum in satisfaction and press yourself further into him.
It's not often that the sun shines in Gotham, in this cursed place that traps you and holds onto you in its choking, death-like grip. It's not often that the light breaks through. But now, as the beams shine through your window and cast patches of heat onto your back, you find that the cool feeling of Jason's touch is nothing but a comfort against you. 
Maybe this curse isn't so bad, you think, if he's here with you. Maybe this life isn't so bad, even in death. 
It's surprisingly simple, you think, for the two of you to begin to settle into this new routine, this new life after death. You're still tangled in this place, of course, still trapped beneath the weight of this haunting city and the ways that it ensnares you. But there is a safety in your home for the two of you that feels a bit less like a curse and a bit more like a choice. 
It's late one evening, the rain raging outside as flashes of lightning crack through the sky and thunder rattles the windows of your living room as it booms overhead. You're turning up the heat on your thermostat and Jason's sitting on your couch, that sullen, fidgety look overtaking him as he remembers that he's different now, that you can't curl up into him for warmth the way that you used to.
"What are you doing over there?" he asks in that dull sort of way that he slips into when he can see the fabric of your couch through his hands and he catches glimpses of his reflection in your mirrors. 
"I'm just turning the heat up, babe," you say absentmindedly, cranking up the temperature on your thermostat so that it's high. "And that's not something that you have to apologize for," you point out as you spin on your heel and turn back to him, making your way back to your spot next to him and glancing at your radiator with a huffed out breath when it rattles with newfound effort.
"How warm did you make it?" he asks, a frown tugging at his lips as you curl against him and he cranes his head around you to try to catch a look at the number on the thermostat.
"Just warm enough for me to do this," you respond easily, pressing up against his side and letting the cold feeling of his skin seep through you as you let out a delighted shiver. Sure enough, as the temperature in your apartment begins to rise, you find yourself pressing closer to him, seeking the cool touch of his hand tracing mindless patterns across your back under your shirt and the feel of your cheek pressing against his neck.
"Hm, clever," Jason mumbles in that new airy, warbling way of his, and you know that if blood still pumped under his skin he'd have a bright red blush raging across his cheeks. You coo still and poke him gently in the hollow of one of his cheeks, watching him fondly as he looks down at you with a long-suffering stare. 
"I'm just saying," you shrug, "we could do all sorts of things like this."
"Yea?" he quips, but his hand smooths down your back and grasps firmly onto your hip, his fingers dipping just below your waistband to press into your skin. "Like what?"
"Hm, I have some ideas
" you trail off, looking up at him with big, hopeful eyes. "But what were you thinking?" 
Outside, the world spins and spins and the storm rages on. Outside, the streets are dark and winding and dangerous, the maze of alleyways and crumbling roads a haunting hazard, a mass grave for those tied to this place. Outside, the city creaks and groans with a life of its own as it takes and takes and takes.
But in here, even the dead can find themselves a home. In here, even ghosts can learn to live again.
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captainsophiestark · 1 month ago
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Worth The Risk
Jason Todd x Reader
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Masterlist - Join My Taglist!
Written for Fictober 2024!
Fandom: DC
Day Twenty-Eight Prompt: "Just say what you want"
Summary: Jason's teammate has been trying to ask him out for a long time now, but he's always ducked the question before it's officially been asked. Now, it seems he's finally ready to talk about why.
Word Count: 1,955
Category: Fluff, little bit of Angst?
Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.
"I'm telling you, Art, I'm starting to go a little crazy! He'll flirt with me all day long, but the minute I try to turn it into a date or a kiss or even a fucking conversation, he pulls back like he's been shocked!"
I could hear Artemis, one of my best friends, trying to stifle a laugh on the other end of the line. I narrowed my eyes, but didn't call her out on it. I had bigger problems right now, as far as I was concerned.
"Okay, when you say you've tried to turn it into a conversation...?"
"I mean I've gotten as far as 'so, Jason, I've been thinking' before he suddenly has a call coming in from Bruce or an urgent cramp in his leg or a super interesting bird outside the window that he has to go look at right now!"
This time, Artemis didn't bother trying to hold back her laugh. I scowled even though she couldn't see it.
Jason Todd and I had been friends for a while now, working together as vigilantes. We'd hit it off from the first time we met, and our relationship had always been a little flirty. More recently, though, it had felt on the verge of something more. And I wanted that. I liked Jason, a lot, and I wanted to see where we might be able to go, if he was interested too.
Most of the time, it did seem like he was interested. But for whatever reason, he kept pulling a 180 on me and defaulting to more platonic behavior than we'd ever had with each other any time I tried to bring it up. I'd decided to talk to Artemis about it, to see if she could give me any advice or anything, but so far she'd been absolutely no help.
"Alright, Art, I'm glad I've been able to entertain you tonight, but can you please-"
I stopped short at the sound of a knock on my door. I frowned. I hadn't ordered anything, and I wasn't expecting anyone. So who the hell was at my apartment?
"Hey, you still there? You alright?"
I hummed, standing from my seat in the kitchen and heading for the door.
"I'm fine. Somebody just knocked on my door, hold on."
I leaned forward to peer through the peep hole, and to my immense shock, I saw Jason Todd standing on my doormat. After a few moments of stunned silence, I finally managed a few words into the phone.
"Yeah, Art? I think I'm gonna have to call you back."
I hung up without waiting for her reply. I'd owe her an explanation later, but I knew she'd understand. Whatever this was about, it seemed pretty serious. Jason had never once shown up at my civilian residence, despite both knowing each other's identities.
I cleared my throat and stuck my phone in my pocket, trying to get a handle on the nerves that had suddenly exploded in my chest. After a moment, I couldn't stall anymore. I took a deep breath and opened the door to find Jason fidgeting almost as much as I was.
"Hey," I said, giving him a weak smile. "What's... what's up? Everything okay?"
"Yeah. Yeah, everything's fine," Jason said, glancing down and rubbing at the back of his neck. "I just... wanted to talk to you. About something. Didn't want to wait till the next time I saw you on the rooftops, hunting somebody down. I hope that's okay."
"Yeah! Of course, yeah. Come on in."
I took a quick step back from the door, holding it open for Jason and trying not to let him see my nerves. He walked through, but stopped in the entryway between the kitchen and the living room, looking a little lost. All I could do was stare at him for a moment as I shut the door. It was strange to see Jason in the middle of my civilian apartment like this, but it was also the kind of strange I could get used to.
"Here, take a seat," I said, heading to the kitchen and motioning towards one of the stools at the counter. "Can I get you a water or something?"
Jason cleared his throat, moving with me after a moment's delay.
"A water would be great, actually. Thanks."
"Sure thing."
I used the time it took me to get some water from the fridge, with my back turned to Jason, to take a few deep breaths. I was a vigilante, for god's sake, I knew how to keep myself from panicking in stressful situations. I wasn't going to let this impromtu visit unravel me.
I returned to Jason with a water for each of us, then sat down at the stool next to his. I was still a little nervous, but my heart had at least stopped pounding quite so quickly, and my hands weren't shaking when I set down the waters.
"So... you wanna tell me what's up?"
Jason cleared his throat, shifting in his seat before meeting my eyes. I gave him a little smile, and it seemed to help him relax, at least slightly. He smiled back.
"Listen... I really like spending time with you. And working with you and talking to you and... and everything. And Roy has been telling me he's sick of listening to me talk about you, so I'm taking his advice and coming to talk to you."
My heart did a backflip in my chest, but I refused to get too far ahead of myself. Jason still looked grim and stressed out of his mind, like he did when I tried to ask him out, which didn't exactly match the positive topic I was hoping this conversation might have.
"So... what are you saying?" I asked, trying to keep my tone light. "Because it sounds like you're building up to one thing, but your tone and your body language is pointing to something very different. Are you trying to ask me on a date, or trying to tell me you're not interested."
"I'm not not interested," Jason responded quickly. I raised an eyebrow, but he looked more stressed than before.
"Okay... so then, what is it? Just say what you want, Jay."
Jason took a long, deep breath in, closing his eyes for a minute and apparently trying to get in the right headspace. When he finally opened his eyes again and met my gaze, he at least looked marginally calmer.
"I want to ask you out."
"...I feel like there's a but coming."
"...But... I don't know, I just feel like you should be fully informed. I'm not necesserily the most... stable potential partner. I'm still working through a lot of shit from before and after the Lazurus Pit, and I'm a regular letdown to my family. That whole experience... I think it broke something in me. And I've been trying to fix what it broke, but I'm not sure I can. I don't want you agreeing to a date or anything else without knowing exactly what you're getting into."
I frowned, which Jason seemed to take as an expected bad sign. His shoulders slumped a little, and he looked resigned. I shook my head.
"Jason... what the hell are you talking about?" Jason opened his mouth like he intended to speak, but I held up a hand to cut him off. "That was mostly a rhetorical question. Believe it or not, I've gotten to know you pretty well in the time we've spent together, working side by side in life and death situations and passing days upon days with each other. And frankly? I like you. A lot. If you hadn't sent up the signals for a hard no everytime I tried, I would've asked you out a long time ago."
Jason sighed. "I still feel like you don't know what you're getting into. I don't want to go down this road and have you end up regretting it and hating me."
"Okay," I said, letting out a sigh of my own. "First of all, let's clear something up. Not once have you disappointed me or let me down, not in all the time we've known each other and worked together, even though you've had plenty of opportunities. And Jay, I didn't know you as Robin. I don't know the old you that you're so intent on comparing yourself to. But the guy sitting in front of me right now? He refuses to see it, but he's a wonderful person and friend, and anyone would be lucky to date him."
Jason flushed and looked down at his lap, but I didn't stop.
"Second, if I ever hear Batman or another one of your family members calling you a disappointment, it's game over for them. I'm punching them in the mouth like they deserve, and that's the end of that."
Jason snorted, briefly picking his head up to give me a look. I grinned back at him.
"And third..." I let the smile fall from my face, adopting a serious expression instead as I gently reached out to take one of Jason's hands. To my delight, he let me. "Third, nobody knows how things're gonna go when they go on a date with somebody. There's no real predicting that, there's no garuntees that we'll be perfectly matched and instantly work out and never have trouble forever and ever. But I know you're a good person, and I love spending time with you, and I trust you with my life, and my heart likes to do a gymnastics routine whenever you're in the same room as me. So if you feel similarly about me, and you want to give it a shot...?"
Jason sighed, chewing on his lip for a moment as he stared at me. Finally, he nodded.
"Yeah. Yeah, I really do."
"Good. Then that's that, Jay. There's no garuntees of anything, but that doesn't mean we shouldn't try. The only way to really lose is to let fear keep us from taking a shot at happiness, right?"
Jason shook his head, but he was smiling all the same as he took my other hand in his, too.
"I guess you do make a pretty convincing argument. But seriously, are you sure you want to do this? It... feels like it could lead to a lot of complications."
"Jason, I'm sure." I laughed. "Honestly, I have been for a long time now. Are you sure?"
I saw Jason take another bracing breath. Then he straightened, shoulders back, and gave me a genuine smile.
"Yeah. I'm sure."
"Great! Then what do you say we turn tonight into our first official date? I was just about to make dinner, and I've got some good movies we can pick from."
Jason's smile grew, taking on a little bit of an edge.
"That sounds perfect to me. As long as you promise to let me take you out for our second date. Somewhere nice."
"Believe it or not, that's not going to take too much convincing."
The two of us shared a smile again, and I gave Jason's hands a squeeze before standing and heading for the kitchen. He joined me, and when I stood at the counter to lay things out, Jason only hesitated for a second before coming up behind me to wrap his hands around my waist. He leaned in to place a soft kiss on my temple, and I leaned back, a smile on my face.
This time, my heart didn't do a backflip. Instead it radiated warmth through my chest and into the rest of my body. I knew we were at the beginning of our road, and there were no garuntees about what might be at the end of it. Still. I couldn't help having a good feeling.
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Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989 @samreich @misshale21
DC Taglist: @gaychaosgremlin @v1ckycheesue @lavender-dinos @g0atmansbridge182
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spidernuggets · 1 year ago
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Random Jason Todd relationship HCs that live in my head rent free
he hates any physical touch but also absolutely desires it because my boy is touch starved.
will make any sexual jokes whenever given the opportunity. "Oh my god, that was so hard" "you know what else is so hard-"
forhead kisses đŸ«¶đŸ«¶đŸ˜đŸ˜đŸ™ŒđŸ™Œ
when starting a relationship, before any physical affection, yous would link pinkies when walking around before holding hands 🙌🙌
pls let him rant about his books
will smack your ass whenever he walks passed you
he lowkey likes being little spoon more than big spoon
just hold him, he's fragile
he'll melt if he sees you wearing his clothes, especially his brown leather jacket đŸ€­đŸ€­
he might scold you for trying to stay up for him to come back from patrol, but internally, he's probs like "oh my lawd, i love them so much i might die again"
idk why, but i feel like if you compliment him on anything, he'd reply with smth cocky or say whatever, but when you leave, he'll be grinning and giggling and kicking his feet like a school girl.
If you're not a vigilante, he'd want to teach you how to defend yourself, use a gun, etc. You'd get excited about how skilled he is, and his ego would just go 📈📈📈
if you are a vigilante and his teammate too with the Titans, yous would spar on a regular basis. The first time you sparred (before your relationship), he'd go easy on you, but once you show how skilled you are, he probably already fell in love by then. In a literal sense, too, seeing as you toppled him over during your sparring match.
Pulls you into an alley during missions/patrols for a quick make-out session 😏😏
Now time for hurt/comfort, my fave
the first time you sleep in bed together, he'll most likely have might terrors that would wake you up. when he wakes up too and you ask him about them, he'd raise his voice, have a bit of a temper tantrum and tell you it's none of your business.
next morning, he'd either kiss you all over as a quiet apology or stay quiet about the dilemma and pretend nothing happened.
if the latter happens, he'd apologise eventually for yelling at you and telling you he doesn't want to talk about it.
ok, say he comes back from patrol or a mission with the other Titans, and something went horribly wrong, and he's blaming himself, and considering how the other Titans treat him, they'd probably blame him too, depending what happened that might.
So he's just cursing loudly, punching the wall, knocking things over. NONE of this anger is pointed towards you, Jason would never raise a hand at you, no matter what circumstance, he just needs something to release his anger on.
Something like this would probably happen a good few months into your relationship, so you know to step away from him for a while, until he calms down, then you'd make him some tea and you'd both sit on the couch or lie in bed in a somber but somewhar comforting silence.
Jason would then find some way to apologise for his outbreak, and you would repeat multiple times that it's not his fault.
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leoivys · 15 days ago
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𝑯𝑰đ‘ș đ‘­đ‘šđ‘œđ‘¶đ‘čđ‘°đ‘»đ‘Ź đ‘Șđ‘¶đ‘łđ‘¶đ‘č – đ‘±đ‘šđ‘șđ‘¶đ‘” đ‘»đ‘¶đ‘«đ‘«
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– contents; angst with a sprinkle of fluff for good measures.
– summary; in their early stages of life, most humans tend to grow fond and form a kind of bond with their favorite color. It's always the same color that will either follow them or haunt them for the rest of their spent time on earth, constantly reminding them of their memories.
– word count; 1.3k
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Every person has a favorite color, right?
Well, Jason didn't have a favorite color. Sure, when he was Robin, he had chosen green as his favorite of the entire color palette, one that represented his hopes for the future awaiting him.
However, after the physical and mental suffering he went through, he was just a kid trying to serve justice to the poor world under that hero mask that he once wore with pride; Joker's plans had something else in store for him. The association of the color green with the psychotic clown that haunted him and then the same situation with his resurrection in the Lazarus Pit. He no longer wanted anything to do with it.
The bitter truth is he never bothered to think about such a silly question. Yet here he was, discussing how humans have some sort of bond with their favorite color their whole life. And here you were, guessing his favorite color after you had explained to him all about yours.
Ever since he was brought back from the dead, Jason had found himself endlessly trying to understand why Bruce refused to avenge his death. Why someone who was legally considered family, who had raised him, trained him, and molded him into what he had become, refuse to overstep that stupid boundary? Maybe Jason wasn’t worth it. Not as much as Dick, who was always the golden child. Or maybe Bruce’s rule as Batman—his only rule—meant more than any bond they had ever shared. The thought of it made his chest tighten. Every time he allowed himself to drown in the idea, no matter how much he tried to convince himself that his thoughts were not true, it stung like an open wound. It was like a scar that refused to heal, a constant reminder of the life he’d lost and the man who refused to act on his behalf. It consumed him, more than he'd like to admit—this lingering doubt, this burning question that gnawed at his every thought. And the worst part was that he didn’t know how he’d ever be able to move past it.
He was overwhelmed by this trance of thoughts almost daily, especially when everything around him fell into an unsettling quiet. The silence only added to the weight of his frustration and self-doubt. He couldn’t stop wondering if Bruce had seen something in him, something different from the criminals he fought, then what made him so unworthy after his death? That day, when Bruce had found him committing a crime—a genuine crime—Jason had been desperate, angry, and broken. But hadn’t he been the same boy Bruce had taken in, trained, and called family? What had changed? Jason would search amongst any file in the Batcave to satisfy his curiosity and maybe ease his frustration. In Jason's mind, he was always the same. No matter what his title was, it never defined him as a personality – he was always rough around the edges, but he wasn't cold before.
So, matters such as favorite colors had become childish for him, and he – being the infamous Red Hood – definitely had other plans than to sit down with the only neighbor he could trust and bond within this whole building on a rooftop and discuss subjects for mere children who were just exploring their inner world.
But at least one of you found it entertaining and considered it a good way to get to know each other a little better without getting too personal or touching a sensitive subject on accident. Or so you thought. At first, you didn't quite catch the changes in his body language; how he sulked and tensed even more, making himself smaller in the space he was in every time you took a new guess.
Jason's mind spun with all these questions, and silence seemed to stretch endlessly around him. The weight of his thoughts pressed on his chest, but just as he began to slip further into his spiral of defeat, a familiar voice broke through the silence.
“Maybe... red?” Your voice snapped him out of his trance, his teal eyes finding yours while he readjusted his position to lean back on his hands in an attempt to gain time or avoid the question altogether. Soon, Jason let out a give-in sigh and subtly cocked his head to the side when he realized you wouldn't change the subject.
Jason smiled to himself, his gaze focusing on the dark night sky above the two of you for a second; the stars were barely visible tonight as anything other than his inner turmoil seemed peaceful before he looked back at you. He was processing your guess and taking his time to put his thoughts and feelings into words, which he always struggled with, and even when his sentences were formed, they couldn't leave his throat without it hurting.
The vigilante rolled his shoulders in an attempt to ease the tension that he didn't even realize was weighing down on him, his hands embracing the coldness of the concrete underneath his fingertips as he tapped a quiet melody against it and allowed the coolness of the material and the faint sounds of the City and the street below ground him.
“Sure, red.” His reply was plain, with uncertainty creeping into his voice without his notice. You noticed it no matter how much he tried to play it off, and the confusion etched on your face seemed to amuse him, if anything.
You took a second to gauze his expression before you muttered, “You don't sound very convinced.” The words in your admission hung in the air for a moment before they earned you a low, brief chuckle from the back of his throat.
Jason let out a long exhale. He earned himself some time to search his mess of a mind to find whatever he possibly could to justify the tension that stuck onto his skin with a pathetic excuse or a stupid lie that he could only hope that you'd buy without a second doubt. “I'm just not used to these kinds of conversations.” His voice remained steady, holding it together as his mind flooded with images of his past, the bright colors on the lining of his Robin suit, the greenish hue that gave his iris a sense of warmth – a time when he hadn't lost all of these things.
Of course, you noticed his hesitation once again. But pressuring people into keeping up with the conversation or the questions you throw at them isn't the best thing you can do to maintain a human relationship. “Is that the reason you chose your vigilante name? Or was it the little red riding hood?” You joked in a poor attempt to ease him with a slightly more light-hearted conversation.
Jason met your gaze for a moment, the corners of his lips twitching as he was briefly reminded of having his identity revealed to you. Then, he scoffed, rolling his eyes in mock exasperation, though the playful hint in his actions softened the edge of his response. “Please. I've got more layers to my personality than that.”
His response, though sharp, seemed to dissipate some of the tension that had settled between the two of you. The air felt a little less thick, a little less heavy. For a moment, it almost felt normal again, as if the weight of everything wasn’t pressing down on either of you.
If only he were to admit that green used to be his favorite color, of what remained of the old him anyway – but at this point, he reckoned it was time to move on from the past and let the color paint the walls of someone else's memories, someone who could still see it for the life and hope it once stood for.
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– a/n; there might be some grammar and spelling mistakes. also, I wrote Jason based on the UTRH movie. either way, thank you for reading this & have a nice day ♡
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ghostfacesvalentine · 2 months ago
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HALLOWEEN DAY 24: Bunny butt - Jason Todd x fem!reader
Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader NSFW!
Warning: Some cursing, sneaking around, fingering, butt play, not much I think.
Type: Blurb
Request: N/A
Word count: N/A
Prompt: Jason sneaks by readers house for Halloween. She shows him what her costume would be if she went to a party tonight and ends up bent over his knees. NSFW!
Notes: Yeah shut up I know
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Your father never approved of you going out and about, especially during the night here in Gotham. You were old enough, sure, but you still lived under his roof, he spoiled you rotten and you just didn’t want to fight it. You always wondered what it would be like to go out on Halloween night. Going to parties and bars was so otherworldly to you and you weren’t going to start this year. On top of your father’s disapproval of going out unchaperoned, he absolutely detested Jason. Instead of the awkward fighting and bickering between both of them, Jason opts to sneak in through your unlocked window, specifically for him.
You were already tucked away in pink satin pajamas underneath your fluffy bedspread watching the exorcist before 11. Your boyfriend hadn’t texted you, you knew about his double life and always tried to be understanding about his lack of quick responses.
The loneliness was loud and clear, you selfishly wanted Jason all to yourself, but you knew you had to share him with the rest of Gotham.
After a few minutes of the background noise coming from the TV, you heard the familiar sound of the window sliding open. Jason climbed through the opening, silently landing at his feet with a boyish smile. “What? No Halloween party?” He asked in a quiet voice, he noticed your father’s car was home, but he couldn’t resist seeing you. Without mentioning it to you, he called in a favor to sabotage your father’s workplace enough to have him take off.
You rolled your eyes at the question, sitting upright and swinging your legs over the bed to head over to greet your boyfriend. He picked you up with ease, you wrapped your legs around his waist, holding his face as you pressed your lips against his. He still kept you in the same position, kissing you again and again, silently giggling with you when you couldn’t help but smile. Jason kept his grip on your legs, walking back over to your bed “is your door locked?”
“Always”
“Good girl.” He murmured as he kissed the top of your head, setting you down at the corner of your bed slowly.
“So what are you doing tonight? Besides staying in. You’re not even dressing up?” Jason looked to the screen before your bed, silently snorting at the ridiculous film.
You rattled your brain trying to come up with a believable answer, but if you were honest, you really didn’t have a plan. “Well, I have my bunny costume from a few years back, my dad told me to get rid of it, but I just never wore it again. That was my plan if I got to a party but-“
You froze in your sentence when you felt two green eyes glow with envy at the words that came out of your mouth.
“Let me see.” Was all he interrupted your sentence with. A small laugh came over you until you realized he was being serious. “Don’t be mean Jay-“ you whined, to which he kept his same expression, simply looking at you as you lazily protested. You knew this was a fight you weren’t going to win, to which caused you to do just as he said.
Your closet was decorated in all kinds of pastel pinks, some black, but as Jason would put it, it seemed like a princess lived there or a princess died and you inherited everything. You dug through all your clothes, mainly the ones that weren’t your favorites and pulled a white bunny outfit together with sheer white tights and a white body hugging bodysuit. To compliment the outfit, you added some thigh high tights. You had the ears in a box full of miscellaneous items.
When you were ready, you came to Jason, all dolled up and even spun around for him a few times. His silence was making you nervous. “I never thought I’d live to see the day that I think I agree with your dad.” He joked, his eyes eating you alive as he looked down to your figure. Your cheeks felt the warmth as he inspected you, you avoided his eyes for a moment that felt for hours. “Come here baby.”
Reluctantly, you walked over to your boyfriend, standing in front of him in between his legs. His hands grabbed your wrists, pulling you down to lay over his knee. You didn’t have time to react, now only feeling the pressure on your belly pressing in by his knee. You didn’t know what to say, you knew Jason to be adventurous in the bedroom but you were far from experienced. Of course you trusted that he would stop the minute you were uncomfortable, that was a given, but you were still shy about trying anything new.
“Jay- my dad’s home-“ you murmured, weakly attempting to get up only to have his hand press you back down “Relax, he’s back at work for the night. I say we have around two hours before he gets back.”
Still unsure, your body tingled at the feeling of his hand gliding around your curves. His fingers danced around the more delicate parts of you, gliding across your clothed folds. You whimpered at the feeling, it has been days since Jason touched you and you hated to be so long without him that you were willing to overlook the fact that your father could or could not be home. You trusted Jason to never get you in trouble like this, only feeling his digits find your most sensitive nub.
Jason kept his agonizing movements, gliding across your clothed sex, then back around your asscheek. Your eyes widened when you felt an abrupt sting across your ass. You didn’t expect to moan at the slap and you didn’t have to look back to know Jason was smiling ear to ear at the fact that you liked it. His hand rubbed the stinging area slowly, letting you catch your breath for a second before he raised his hand again and smacked your ass, this time catching a bit of your clothed pussy as well. Another moan, this time louder, escaped your lips. Before you could say anything, he did it again, then again and again.
You felt the uncomfortable wetness against your clothes, rubbing your knee’s together to get some kind of relief. “That’s my girl.” You heard Jason call out to you, his hand rubbing your stinging cheeks for a few moments before gliding up and down your clothed folds. Suddenly you felt a tear in your tights, of course they were thin, but the sound of the tear was replaced by a soft groan coming from Jason when his fingers felt the warm arousal troubling your panties.
“Fuck.” He murmured under his voice, dragging his fingers along the puffed up outline of your pink sex before plunging two thick fingers into you. He went knuckles deep into you, causing your hips to jolt, closing your eyes as they rolled back in pleasure. He pumped his fingers in and out, slowly at first to get all your juices flowing.
Motivated by your whimpers, he pushed the rest of your bodysuit aside from the area he was focused on. Twisting his fingers, he stuck a thumb into your tight asshole after soaking it in your juices for easier friction. A louder moan escaped your lips. You couldn’t see him right now, but he was completely enamored with you, how you let him do whatever, how easily you trusted him.
He curled his fingers, still pumping them in and out of you, smirking at your jolting hips and swaying legs. His thumb only going in deeper to your second hole, this time grabbing you by your lower half with his hand half gone into your lusting body.
The feeling was obscene, the sight was pornographic, but you were completely in bliss as you were a slobbering wet mess. His free hand slithered over to your face, your mouth open with the inability to stay quiet, Jason shoved his index finger into your mouth, swiping it across your tongue. “Suck”
And just like that, you entertained him. Starting to suck on his middle finger as he added to your mouth. That didn’t stop him from adding a third finger into your pussy, another slobbering moan escaped your lips. The more you tried to move your hips away from him, the more he pushed down on you, pumping his fingers in and out. You felt a fuzzy sensation in your core, your folds tightened around his fingers, white stars invading your closed eyes as you felt your juices squirt out of you and into his lap and fingers. “That’s my good girl, fuck.” He murmured still pumping fingers in and out, this time slower. “Maybe I should get you a bunny tail buttplug” he half laughed as you came down from your first orgasm of the night.
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