#jason todd self insert

[the-halloween-jack]

DC ✢ When he realised he loved you

Characters: Bruce, Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian and Clark.

B R U C E⠀W A Y N E

The moment had been a quiet revelation, in a silence so profound it frightened him. The kind of silence that followed the first crack of thunder, one moment loud and undeniable, the next building with tension, waiting for it to strike again. 

You were sitting in the library of the manor, an arcane book resting open upon your lap, the fire crackling softly behind you. He had just returned from patrol — broken, bloodied, and defeated.

You looked up, eyes wide, alarmed at his state and asked, ‘Bruce?’ You had spoken as if he were not the Batman, not an emblem of vengeance and grit, but a man, just a man, whose hurt mattered.

Something in him gave out. Not in an ostentatious, cinematic collapse, but in the subtle yielding of defences too long held taut. His mind, a fortress of rationale and boundaries, fell silent.

She sees me, for all I am, it whispered. And yet she stays.

He had not believed in unconditional love since the alleyway. But in that moment, with the stench of blood from his suit and the leaden weight of the city upon his back, he saw love for what it was — not a sanctuary, but a quiet understanding, and a choosing. And she had chosen him.

It terrified him. Because now he had yet another thing to lose, to protect, something that was not abstract. It had a name. A voice. A laugh. It sat in his home and softened his world.

He had never been the same since.

D I C K⠀G R A Y S O N

It crept up on him — not a wave, but rather a tide. Quiet and constant and utterly irreversible.

You had fallen asleep in his bed, still holding a game controller, your brow furrowed even in your unconsciousness. He watched you in the blue glow of the screen and thought, God, I’d die for her.

And then came the laugh — low, bitter, surprised. Because of course he would. He was always ready to die for someone.

But this felt different. This was not a compulsion, a sense of duty. It was not about legacy or guilt. It was about you. And the way your presence grounded the part of him that had always been just suspended above the world, half-grieving, half-trying.

He remembered kissing your forehead before leaving for patrol that night. Slow. Lingering. The kind of kiss that was not about want, but reverence.

That was when he knew.

Love was not a thrill. It was a weight. And he had never wanted anything to anchor him, to tether him to this sphere, more than you.

The realisation made him smile. And then it made him ache.

J A S O N⠀T O D D

Jason felt it like the first rays of sun upon his back after a piercing winter, it flooded his system, warm and compelling. It struck him all of a sudden — new, unfamiliar, and… unwelcome. He did not want it. He had not asked for it.

You were brushing your teeth, half-asleep, wearing one of his old shirts, humming a song under your breath as though nothing was wrong in the world, as though it were not in a state of disrepair just beyond the window. And while watching you, he could believe it for a moment too.

Jason stood in the doorway, paralysed. Because he had seen too much tragedy, too much carnage. He could hardly believe that a quiet instant of peace, like this, could even exist, let alone in his reality.

His first instinct was to run. Not literally — he could never leave you. But to emotionally retreat, to steel himself for the moment this fleeting softness was stolen from him.

But you looked at him. Just looked — toothpaste foam and all — with a kind of amused concern, and asked, ‘You okay?’

After everything he had been through. He was not sure he had ever been less okay.

He loved you. He loved you with a passion that made him feel unworthy, as if he had tainted something holy.

A voice in him protested — said it was weakness. Said this would end in catastrophe. But he ignored it, just this once. He stepped forward and kissed your temple.

‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Just tired.’ But he was not. This was a lie. His mind was reeling.

He did not sleep that night. He lay awake memorising your breathing.

T I M⠀D R A K E

It was a question you asked that did it. Something ordinary, like, ‘Did you eat today?’

Tim wanted to laugh because it was such a cliché, wasn’t it? But clichés exist because they are true. No one ever asked him that, not like you had, not like it genuinely mattered. 

Then you brought him a coffee, one of those orders so tailored it was essentially an identity. You did not need to ask what he wanted. You simply knew.

He blinked down at the cup, then at you, and suddenly the task he was completing meant nothing.

He felt the world tilt. Quietly. Like the axis of his orbit had shifted. And it had.

Love, to Tim, had always been a puzzle he did not have time to solve. A thing for normal people, with normal lives, for people who lacked the responsibility he had garnered.

But there it was — simple, unassuming and irreversible.

He did not tell you. Not for a long time.

But he began cataloguing what made you smile. The way your face changed after a laugh, crinkled and carefree. He noticed the way your eyes sparkled just a little brighter when you spoke of things that made you passionate, and how the corners of your lips turned up when you were lost in a quiet thought.

This love became his sustenance, it was the first time in years he feared forgetting something.

D A M I A N⠀W A Y N E (Aged up as Batman)

It had infuriated him. The sheer idiocy of it.

Love was chemical, juvenile, a distraction. Or so he had been taught. So he had believed.

And yet there he stood — across from you in the garden, where you were speaking to a stray dog as if it were royalty, and something in his chest pulled.

At first, he mistook it for contempt — annoyance at your softness in a moment where he was attempting to be serious. But then you looked up, grinned, and said, ‘I think she likes me.’

And the words caught in his throat. Not because he did not believe them, but because he liked you. Against every grain of his upbringing.

He wanted to scold you, retreat, build walls. But instead, he asked the dog’s name, eying the tag.

That was the beginning. The fracture.

He loved you. In an old, mythic sense. In the way poets spoke of their love — fierce, unyielding, as though it could bend the very fabric of time. 

And that it did, time slowed every time you entered his concentration.

He began to dream of futures — a concept once as foreign to him as mercy.

He has not told you. But he will. In his own time. For now, he will continue to relish in it, and continue in this alluring descent. 

C L A R K⠀K E N T

He did not realise. Not at first. Because what he felt for you was too immense, too intrinsic, to label with as small as a word as love.

It was not until you fell asleep in his arms, mumbling about a stressful day, completely unaware of the god you were held by, that it hit him.

You did not see him as Superman. You saw him as Clark Kent. You simply saw him. The man. His hope. His grief.

And he realised then — you are his tether.

He thought of Krypton. Of its loss. Of the gaping emptiness it had left as soon as he had learnt of it. And for the first time in years, he did not feel hollow. He felt… full. He realised, that the planet could never have been home to him like she was. 

You snored softly. He laughed. Then cried.

Love, he realised, was not loud. It was simply your hand over his heart. It was your laughter in the next room. It was your body next to his.

He had not fallen in love. He had found it, unexpected and irrevocable, and for all the power he had been bestowed, this force had left him helpless to resist.

And now he guards it with everything he is. Because you are not just his world.

You are his home.

If you're interested, I've since posted a follow-up called 'When he admitted he loved you' linked, here. Every comment and piece of advice is welcomed and appreciated <3

[spocks-husband]

Consider: One of the Batfam starts dating a civilian who happens to be a crime/mystery/horror/detective writer, eventually they know the vigilante identities of the family after things get serious, and yeah it's a lot to get used to but overall everything is pretty great!

Until at one point, y/n gives their partner a scene from a book they're working on for some feedback, and their partner is like "hmm. Yeah, it's pretty good, but your description of being stabbed isn't super accurate."

And then they go into this whole explanation of how it feels to be stabbed, which eventually is overhead by other Bats who are VERY offended because OBVIOUSLY all of that is wrong, and it starts this giant family debate over which adjectives best describe a stab to the kidney because all of them have experienced it at some point, Alfred comes in and adds his input because of course he's also been stabbed before, Damian and Jason have to be physically restrained from performing a demonstration-- and the entire time y/n is just sitting there like 😦

[lorimnnn]

i don't wanna be fucked like a slut and then discarded.

i wanna be fucked like you've never been loved before; i want to be used and folded and manhandled like i'm some sex doll you bought for cheap online. i want your eyes rolling back, your entire body flushed, tears pricking the surface of your eyes. i want you spent and overstimulated but unable to control yourself as your hips snap up into mine, because it feels so good, too good, and even though your vision is bordered in black, it's not enough to command your body to pull away.

you need it. you need it you need it you need it.

your thoughts are a mush in your head, melted into soup by the heat heavy in your cheeks. you can't string together a single coherent sentence. you barely know what's happening.

your mind is blank.

maybe you're even begging me to understand. "i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry. i'm so sorry. i'm sorry...."

see, if you fuck me like i'm a slut, the goal is to just get it out of your system. that can take five minutes. that's not enough for me.

i want to be fucked like you're the slut.

[venusscore]

Bruce Wayne finds out he has another biological child (reader), except they’re a teenager:

From the get-go, Bruce is nervous around you. He partially feels guilty for missing so much or your life, so he doesn’t know if he can really parent you

He does his best to discourage you from being a vigilante. He doesn’t need another kid to worry about

The first time you gave him some of that teenage attitude, he was shocked. You didn’t seem too sassy, but then he realized you were also a high school student. He had to expect this. He tried to be stern, but it was so difficult! He was so used to his other kids, whose forms of rebellion ranged from fighting villains twice their size without backup, to becoming full on criminals (cough Jason cough). He knew he needed to be stern with you, but how could he when your little sarcastic comments and dressing in clothes he didn’t approve of were the worst you do?

Dick has already had many siblings, and you’re not the first he’d met when they were a teenager. You are, however, the first to not be a vigilante. He wants to relate to you, he really does, but his childhood was a mix of acrobatics and then fighting criminals, so he’s resorted to just listening to you complain about classes and drama, throwing in the occasional “mhm” or comment to show he’s listening and he cares

Jason is NOT used to someone who cannot only take his comments, but fires back with twice the burn. As intelligent as Damian is, he usually results to threats, rather than matching Jason’s tone

So one day, when Jason and you are bickering, he tries to end it with “whatever floats your boat,” in a slightly condescending tone. Before he could walk off, however, you say “at least my boat can float.”

Tim gets along great with you! He’s also a teenager, and he feels somewhat normal when you and him chat about your days

You tell him all the drama and who you’re angry at that week. He loves it. Heck, he even knows some of the people you’re talking about! (Forever 17) With that, you also love to give him advice on his love life, regardless of whether you have or haven’t dated guys.

“Trust me, he was not weirded out when you kissed his cheek last night.” You assure him for the third time while doing your homework. “Are you sure?” He asks again, to which you nod and close your book.

Damian, depending on your age, might have different opinions on you.

If you’re closer to his age (14/15), I’d imagine he’d at first be competitive with you. He’d constantly look down on you and your lack of skills. However, since you’re both in similar (or even the same) classes, he eventually found companionship and asks you for advice. He also constantly listens to your gossiping and drama

If you’re older, though, I think he’d see you similar to how he does Tim. Think maybe the way Sheldon Cooper treats Howard Wolowitz. No, he doesn’t hate you. No, he doesn’t really like you as much as everyone else, but he does internally respect you. He just looks down on your lack of physical ability, compared to him

Stephanie loves you! She remembers being your age, and listening to your high school life is so awesome for her. I think she’d connect with you a bit better if you’re a girl, but you also would be in her favor anyway

Similar to last time, she wants you to be smart. She tries to do brain teasers with you and get you to challenge yourself, to which you humor her with, but there’s been moments you’ve had to just say you’re not in the mood

Duke also gets along great with you! (Depending on the comic, he might be in high school or college, which I’ll base it off of) He’s close in age, and honestly, he too sometimes feels a bit out of place in this huge family, and he’s probably had one of the more normal childhoods out of the group, so you both bond over finally having someone to relate to. He also LOVES when you give that teenage smartass attitude to the others. It makes his day

Cassandra is probably the least close to you. She’s sweet and all, but you both just… don’t relate. However, she one day catches you watching her while she’s training, and is caught off guard. After that, sometimes she’d teach you some basic martial arts moves, just to keep you safe in the danger-zone known as Gotham. You picked up quickly on her non-verbal cues, and now you two are good buds

Extras! (Again):

Barbara likes you a lot! She thought being a teenager was great, and she looooves taking you out to go shopping, chat about friends, or generally just hangout. You’re one of the few she knew as a regular person first, not a vigilante. She was never freakishly smart, and had to always study for good grades, so she happily helps you if you need it, since almost everyone else either didn’t go to school, or is naturally intelligent

Selina is always happy to talk to you. She at first tried to get along so you’d leave a good word to Bruce for her (she’s been pining for too long), but now she genuinely likes you! You tell her about school drama, and in turn, she complains about boring adult stuff and gives you gossip on your dad- it’s great!

Now whenever Bruce complains about women talking to him, or the new date he went on (you can take the man out of the playboy, but not the playboy out of the man), you always throw in something like “Well there’s always Selina” or “Selina would never.”

——————

Guess who has exams next week 😭😭

I already did one of these with toddler reader, but I actually was going to make the original post a teenager, but then I was like “I should do all stages of life!”

But I got burnt out after the first, so I decided to continue that here

thanks for the support on the last one! Y’all are so sweet! I plan on making more bcs this is really fun! Again, if I messed anything up, feel free to lmk

if anyone has any other ideas, I’d love to see them in comments/reposts/messages!

Have a good one!

(Also I love reading reposts/comments in general, so don’t be shy on opinions)

[heavenlyletters]

OH, SHIT !

| dick Grayson x reader (established relationship)

| content - fluff, original child(ren) of dick grayson, wife!reader, not proofread

| wc - 1.2k

| a/n: i have baby fever rn SPARE MEEE. kinda hate this cause i feel like could've made it feel more natural but alas, its 2 am and I am sleepy. also playing around with child names and POVs. tell me what you liked! okay bye!!

“Lia, you almost got it, baby?” You call out for your daughter, who was running to her father to get the toilet paper you asked for, “I comin’, mama!” You hear her little voice yell back, paired with the sound of her little feet running as fast as they can against the hardwood floors.

Securing your phone against a can of hairspray, you rifle through the grocery bag you snuck into the bathroom for the can of chocolate frosting you bought earlier in the day. Aurelia was finally at the age that she could engage little prank wars with her parents, and you and Dick are taking full advantage of that fact. Having seen a TikTok of a fake poop trend the night before, you had set off to the supermarket as soon as Lia was down for her daily nap, basically vibrating in excitement about seeing her reaction.

Lia is…impressionable, to put it lightly, and as much as the pair of you try, you and Dick are not the best influences. Amazing parents! Very bad examples. As a result of that, Lia has become quite the character very early on. It doesn’t help that her extended family are a merry band of wayward misfits as well, all of them wanting to enlist the excitable little girl in various (slightly illegal?) activities under the guise of, and I quote, “teaching her irreplaceable life skills”. That’s a problem for another day.

Hearing your daughter start to make her way back to the bathroom, you make quick work of starting the recording and opening up the frosting, angling the can towards the camera, showing yourself taking a hefty lump from the container.

“I got it, mama!” You hear your daughter's voice nearing the door. Tiny, frantic knocks are heard not two seconds later, and you have to fight to keep the grin off your face as you angle the camera towards the door.

“Okay! I’m coming, baby!” You say, opening the door just enough so she can be seen in the frame. Aurelia holds out the toilet paper like a holy grail with an adorable grin on her face. “Here you go, Mama! I got it for you from Dada,” She says so very excitedly, it almost makes you feel bad for what you're about to do. You can see Dick standing a little ways away, shoulders shaking with barely contained giggles. “Oh, thank you so much, pretty bird!” You coo, taking the toilet paper from her hand, making sure to rub the chocolate frosting on her wrist and fingers as you pull away.

“You welco-” She starts to reply before she registers the sludge on her hand, her face dropping as she looks at it.

“Oh my goodness! I’m so sorry, baby, I got poopoo on you! Oh no!” You say, really playing up the shock factor as Aurelia continues staring at her hand, her little face slowly starting to scrunch up in disgust and her tummy just slightly contracting as she tries her very hardest not to heave. Bless her.

“Mommy?” She says, and it’s so very evident she’s trying not to gag, “What da fuk,” she spits out, clear as day and your jaw goes slack. Dick has to physically turn around to keep from bursting at the seems.

“Aurelia Grayson! You can not-you can’t say that,” You say, but it’s hard to scold her when she’s finally lost the battle with her weak stomach, violently retching, her eyes never straying from her hand.

“Momm–” Gag “Momma, ‘s o–” Retch “ ‘s okay!” She gives her best attempt at a smile, but it still comes out as a disgusted grimace, “ ‘s okay, I go wash ma hands,” another gag.

“I'm-I’m so sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to! It was an accident, I’m sorry,” You’re now openly smiling cause, oh my god, she’s adorable.

She gives another strained smile, failing to make eye contact as her eyes keep straying back to the substance, keeping her hand very far away from her body as if it’s contagious, “Mama, you shitted?” She asks so very innocently, nose scrunched and teeth bared in revulsion, but you can’t say she isn’t making an effort.

Dick, who has turned bright red with the effort to keep his laughter at bay, finally doubles over, choking on his spit. Aurelia tries her hardest to laugh along, but she is still visibly and viscerally disgusted, gagging between each little giggle that slips out as she looks at her parents helplessly. Again, bless her.

Dick, finally remembering that he has a role to play here, straightens up and wipes the tears from his eyes, trying (and failing) to gain some semblance of composure, “Come on, sunny, let me see your hand,” He meets your eyes, that famous mischievous glint shining in them, and you mentally prepare yourself to have to give your daughter a very thorough bath after this.

She walks over to him, offering up her hand, expecting him to clean it off for her, and he does! By licking it. She looks at him, absolutely horrified for a beat, looking at her hand and then back up to meet his eyes before she finally breaks and starts scream-sobbing.

“Oh no! No, no no no! It’s okay!” You rush to calm her, but she looks even more troubled at that as she turns to you with wide eyes before darting off to the kitchen.

You sigh as you look down at Dick, who has fallen fully to the ground, smudge of chocolate on the corner of his lip, “You’re disgusting,” You say, smiling despite yourself.

“And YOU,” He points towards you as he holds his stomach, trying to look at you through the tears of laughter, “shitted!”

“Dickwad.” is all you say before you grab the camera and stop it.

After everything has calmed down, Aurelia has washed her hands off and you both explained to her that mommy didn’t actually put a glob of her on shit on her hand and that it was just chocolate, even letting her have a tiny little spoonful for her troubles, you all gathered on the couch watching Lia’s favorite movie.

You grab your phone and turn the camera on one last time to get your daughter's thoughts on everything. “So what’d you think, Sunny? You forgive, Mama?” you ask her, pointing the camera towards her.

She barely looks away from the TV to look at herself in the screen as she keeps her chocolate spoon tucked between her lips, nodding distractedly, “Yeah? You’re not mad at Mama?” Dick asks her, poking her tummy and she squirms towards you, giggling and shaking her head ‘no’.

“I just give her my pull-up next time!” She says around her spoon, looking up at you, eyes mirroring her father’s, Lord, they’re gonna be the death of you. You both laugh thinking that’s the end of it, going to stop the video before the little devil pipes again, “And auntie Steph said everybody shits, so ‘s okay Mama, I forgived you!” She says grinning and turning her attention to the tv again, knowing damn well what she did as Dick barks out a laugh and you scold her again,

“Aurelia Marie Grayson!”

| dividers by - @cafekitsune

[the-fictional-wife]

Jason with my hat onnnn I swear if the quality is bad idk what to do-

[hoodzgyal]

happy black history month roy harper likes 90s fine, earthy black girls who burn incense and smoke girlblunts. his gf is soooo erykah badu coded it’s insane.

happy black history month dick grayson likes bubbly black girls. loud ones. girls who are like walking sunshine, who’s skin always seems to glow a little bit, and smell like shea butter and vanilla.

happy black history month jason todd likes rap snobs. girls who think to pimp a butterfly was the one of greatest gifts black america gave to music. girls who are rap nerds, who think the 90s was the best era for music and fashion, and dress accordingly.

[sourkreem]

jason and his ugly twink boyfriend

ill color this later. probably.

[beeboopneep]

:)

I firmly believe that the batfam would be a half-decent family to be adopted into while not knowing about their Nighttime Activities TM... at least in the beginning.

Lets say that Kiddo gets dropped off after the death of their last guardian (mother, most likely) and somehow the cops get their hands on a letter or something that says that Kiddo is Bruce Wayne's biological child. CPS wouldn't DNA test a child otherwise, but with some sort of evidence they may. Either way, something tells me that as soon as Bruce was notified of the possible child he would get the test done lol. While that processes the kid would end up in foster care (yikes! Gotham foster care is def rough af) whether Bruce is a foster father or not (that sounds like a problematic placement and he'd probably have to pull strings if he wanted to take care of them during this time). So, for 3-14 days an already traumatized, possibly orphaned child waits in limbo in a cesspool of a foster system. Trauma on top of trauma. And then the results come back and Yay! You've got a daddy!

So they pack up everything and go live with the People's Billionaire who they have definitely seen scandals of on the news before. Can you imagine the thoughts going through their head at the time? Are the other kids gonna bully me? Does he even want biological kids? Is he abusive? Neglectful? Pervy?? Does he really drink that damn much and fall in that many damn fountains?!?

And then they'd meet him and he'd be... stoic? And awkward and kind of cold? Which they could definitely take wrong (Bruce is emotionally inept, not malicious) and assume he hates them off the bat. They withdraw, straining themselves and the barely-there relationship more. The ink's still fresh on their adoption and they already want to leave.

Anyway, lets say things pick up. They meet Dick, the emotional center of the household, and then Jason, their caring (if abrasive) older brother, and so on. They start to find their place. Maybe they still struggle to warm up to Bruce or really feel like on of his kids, especially since everyone else seems so comfortable.

But Dick invites them to get ice cream and burgers and whatever else just as an excuse to spend time with them and make sure they're adjusting well (or enough to be expected). Jason teaches them to punch and how to finally get A's on the English assignments, and how to actually like their English assignments. He buys them fancy bookmarks and they pretend not to notice that he has the same one (they match!). Tim comes to them whenever he finds out a new fact he thinks they'll like and lets you pull coffees out of his hands without too much complaint after he's surpassed his daily limit (he only gives a grumble and an affectionate look) Cass teaches Kiddo all the best places to hide during hide-and-seek and pulls you into her side during movie nights. Cass makes sure you always have someone to eat with if them want it and brings back food whenever she's out. After some work, Damian even lets you help him train Titus!

But they still can't quite settle in because... where did everyone go at night?

If Kiddo's home situation before wasn't exactly ideal then they'd be a light sleeper, which is how they'd wake, and if not it's because they go down for a glass of water or something and see way too many bedroom doors open and beds empty on their way. Either way, after living with people for so long they'd catch on.

They notice that every single person in the household had been unaccounted for at some time. Every single one of their siblings plus both adults in the house were getting together every night to do something without them.

The realization was like a stone at the bottom of their stomach. And so, they start to pull away.

And everyone notices.

[stev1esarch1ves]

DC Head-Cannon Post #3

As a teen Jason ended up discovering AO3. He then proceeded to use his love for writing and literature to create a Pride and Prejudice themed fanfic where he posted multiple chapters and ended up with a relatively large fanbase. One day he just stopped posting, his readers were incredibly disappointed. It turns out he literally died.

After his resurrection he never opened that website ever again.

He has taken this information to the grave (twice).

[alitodd16]

[the-halloween-jack]

DC ✢ When he admitted he loved you

Characters: Bruce, Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian and Clark. This is a companion piece to another headcanon called 'When he realised he loved you' linked here. Though, you can still read it independently.

B R U C E⠀W A Y N E

Bruce did not say it in a quiet moment — for such moments were rare. Though, when they did find him, he spent them with you in silence. Not with words but simply by being near, by existing in your presence.

No. It came during an argument. One of those arguments that shakes the very foundations of a relationship — not because of what was said, but because of what had never been, what was expected.

You had asked him — raw, wounded — what you meant to him. What all this was. Why he kept forming barriers between you, when all you had ever wanted to do was break through.

His answer had been frigid. Precise. Calculated and sharpened. A blade forged from old habits, Bruce wielded it with an unconscious mastery, a last-ditch defence mechanism perfected over decades.

You left. Not in fury, but in heartbreak, disappointment — the kind that does not cry, does not scream, but simply broods into silence. Your absence rang louder than a slammed door, louder than any yell you could have mustered.

Alfred did not speak. Just passed Bruce in the hallway with the kind of look that had once made him sit straighter as a boy. And now, it made him feel small once more, as though he were still a child.

Time passed and still, silence.

He found you in the garden, beneath a sky now thick with stars, the sun had still been gleaming when you had hurried away. You had not been crying. You were still. And in that stillness, he saw the damage he had inflicted upon you.

‘I can’t seem to protect what I love,’ he said, words fractured, conflicted. ‘Not my parents. Not Jason… Not you —’ 

You turned. Not startled by the confession, but by the break in his voice. You had never seen him like this before, never so fragile. 

‘But I do. I love you. I want… I need you to know that.’

It was not cinematic. No kiss. No arms thrown around shoulders. Just him, standing before you, hollowed by an atypical honesty, praying you would believe him — even if he was undeserving of that trust.

And you did. You believed him. Bruce could see it in the ease of your countenance, in the smile that now warmed your face. But even so, he apologised as though he had committed a most heinous crime.

You pulled yourself to your feet, still wordless. And enveloped him in your arms.

‘I love you too, Bruce.’

D I C K⠀G R A Y S O N

Dick meant to say it casually — with that charming nonchalance that usually came so naturally to him. He had rehearsed it, even. Smiled in the mirror once or twice. But it never felt right, never felt adequate. It was too simple a word to describe what he felt for you. 

But love, he discovered, should not wait for perfect timing.

It came unexpectedly late one evening, while a movie played in the background — some low-budget film neither of you had been truly watching. Your head was on his shoulder. His thumb was tracing invisible shapes into your side.

And then — suddenly breathless, it had grown too large to contain, he could not hold it any longer,

‘You know I love you, right?’

You blinked like someone newly roused from a dream, and looked at him as though he had spoken in a foreign language. Dick was not confident he had not. 

When you remained quiet, he chuckled, uneasy. And brought his hand to the back of his neck, in a nervous, boyish manner. 

‘I mean — I have. For a while. I just didn’t want to ruin it by...’ He trailed off, not quite sure what he was saying. 

You remained quiet for a few moments more, contemplating. The juncture of silence stretched taut, he held his breath. And then you smiled. 

As soft as the moonlight now shining through the curtains, you whispered, ‘I love you, too.’

He kissed you gently, as though he were trying to make up for all the times he had not said it sooner. In that moment, he was not Dick Grayson, he was not Nightwing or the Boy Wonder — he was simply someone lucky enough to be loved by you.

To this day, he cannot for the life of him remember the movie that had been playing. All he could remember was that smile — the way it had already lit up your eyes by the time it reached your mouth and the enthralling, glowing warmth that had flooded his system.

J A S O N⠀T O D D

You were stitching him up again — hands steady, breath shallow, a routine so familiar it hurt. Nothing fatal. Nothing new. His form was half-draped in shadow, skin cold under your touch. You sat cross-legged before him. 

‘You’ve got to stop doing this,’ you murmured, not for the first time and certainly not the last. 

He did not answer. Because what would he tell you? Not the truth, you would not want to hear it. Every stitched-up wound felt like proof that you cared; he could not resist the temptation. He did not believe you could love a man like him, but when he felt your gentle fingers work over his skin, he let himself consider it; he let himself yearn. 

‘I’d die for you, you know?’ he muttered. Off-handed. As though it were the most obvious thing, as though it were as easy as breathing.

A frown turned your face. ‘That’s not comforting, Jason.’

And then — something unspooled. A thread that had been pulled too tight for too long. Jason sighed.

‘What I was trying to say… What I meant was… I love you —’ He looked into your eyes, gaze piercing, willing you to see the truth of it. 

The words had flooded out like a barrage breaking open. ‘That’s all I’m trying to say. I’d die for you because… I can’t picture a world without you in it. I wouldn’t want to.’ He shivered at this, at the concept of a sphere you did not grace, the very notion made him ill. 

You stilled. Hands held suspended above him, pausing their work.

He was not looking for a response — only a release; he had needed this off his chest. But you gave him one anyway.

‘I love you, too.’ You had uttered it so softly, had Jason not already been watching your lips, he may have missed it. His breath caught — not in fear, but in awe — as though his lungs had momentarily forgotten their most natural function.

Your words felt like electricity brimming beneath his skin — like every nerve had been awoken at once. A new fullness bloomed within his chest, as though the ribs could no longer host his heart; as if it had suddenly grown too large to contain.

He spoke up again, softer this time,  ‘I’ll try to live for you too. That part’s harder. But believe me when I say I want it. More than anything.’ He gave you one of his rare smiles, and your heart jolted.

You silently placed the first aid materials to the side and leaned in, placing your head against his shoulder. After a short while you shifted, leaving scattered kisses across his fading scars, lingering on each for a moment, he felt that same electricity once more. 

Your hands ghosted over him like he were something precious, as though the ruin of him was worth loving, and that was the message you were trying to convey, what you were trying to have him understand.

Jason did not sleep that night. Not out of pain or panic, but because he was afraid it had been a dream. That peace, for someone like him, was more fragile, more fleeting than any reverie; and he could not stand the idea of waking up.

T I M⠀D R A K E

You both had been working late, each focused on your own tasks, yet relishing in the silent company of one another; the peace of it. Tim sat at his desk, while you lay across his bed, legs swinging behind you with a pen in hand.

Tim had asked you to stay at the manor for the night, but you had gently refused, reminding him you had work in the morning. You got up and walked over, placing both hands on either shoulder. You then pressed a kiss to his temple and whispered in his ear.

‘I better head off now.’ He leaned his head back into you, and his eyes met yours, smiling.

And then — too casually, too instinctively — he said, ‘Okay, love you.’

The words had flowed out like a torrent. A sudden, unexpected failure in his system.

Then a silence dropped like a stone in deep water — sudden, heavy, and irreversible; absolute.

He froze. His eyes were wide, as though the phrase had been spoken by an imposter, by someone else within his skin. He had known this fact for a long time, it had only been a matter of time.

‘I didn’t — I mean — that wasn’t—well, it was, but —’ He stopped. His words crashed over each other, panicked and sputtered.

You tilted your head. Shock the dominant expression on your face.

‘You love me?’

He nodded, slowly, it would be silly to deny it; to lie. Shame crept into the corners of his expression. What if he had said it too soon? What if the word drew you away?  Then suddenly you smiled, as though you had been waiting for this exact failure, this exact slip-up.

‘Well… that’s good,’ your whisper was tender. ‘Because I love you too.’

And just like that, his spiralling mind halted. His thoughts — so often a storm of what-ifs and whys — were suddenly still.

And in that stillness, something shifted.

The tension in his shoulders eased and melted away. He let out a breath he had not realised he had been holding — shaky, but smiling. It was not his usual tight-lipped smirk, nor the polite upward curve he would give strangers — this one was real. Quiet, disbelieving and full.

You leaned downward and rested your forehead against his, your hand moving to cradle his cheek. Tim leaned into it like he had been starved of its softness. You spoke through a grin.

‘Maybe I should stick around. Was that your plan all along?’

D A M I A N⠀W A Y N E⠀(Aged up as Batman)

Damian did not like the word love. Not at first. The word felt paltry. Trite. A flippant syllable never built to hold the sheer weight of what he carried for you.

You had just bested him in sparring. You always did, but only because he allowed it — Damian would sooner impale himself on his training blade than admit it, but it was not as though you were unaware. You had thought it cute, an adjective you would never dare utter to his face. 

Damian had no shortage of self-pride. The fact he was willing to sacrifice it, simply to please you, always left you breathless. 

You extended your hand to guide him up, but he simply stared at it from his place on the mat, his gaze shifting upward. You were standing over him, a barely contained smirk donning your features. 

‘You do not understand what you mean to me,’ he said, voice low and filled with a thousand ulterior meanings, though they bled through, his tone turning earnest.

You did not speak. You simply waited.

‘This feeling,’ he tried again, ‘it disrupts everything. My training. My thoughts. My plans. Everything. It… it…’ He trailed off, not sure how to finish what he was saying, not confident that the words capable of conveying these feelings were extant across any vernacular, it seemed too implausible. 

You smiled, faintly. ‘You mean love?’

He flinched like you had cursed. But then — after a moment — he nodded.

‘Yes. That.’ It was not enough, but he figured he would concede. ‘I feel it. Unwillingly. But truthfully.’

You laughed, it was warm and bell-like. It struck something tender in him, something still learning to hope.

‘I love you too, Damian.’

How was it, that word he had held with such contempt, such scrutiny and scepticism, was suddenly so weighted, so gorgeous uttered from your lips? How was it so impactful now it was directed towards him? 

He looked away, not from shame, but from overwhelm. He had fought assassins, atrocious criminals, and the weight of his father’s legacy — but never had he felt something as all-consuming as being wanted, as overwhelming as the thought of your love.

C L A R K⠀K E N T

He had told you on a rooftop. Not because it was histrionic, but because it was distant — far above the world’s inescapable noise, yet still beneath its stars. 

You were talking about something entirely ordinary. Rent, perhaps. The cost of your water bill.

But he was not listening, not truly. He watched as your lips moved and thought only of how he yearned to kiss them, to wake up to them each and every morning. 

And then he looked at you. Really looked. And the words came like wind through the ether — soft, inevitable.

‘I love you.’ He had cut you off, but it needed to be said. He could not have lived another moment without these words held suspended between you. 

You smiled, easy. ‘I know.’

But he shook his head. Shifting closer. There was an ache in his voice, a gravity to it.

‘No. I love you. Not in the way people say when they’re hanging up the phone. Or when they leave for work in the morning. I love you like… like…’ He paused, eyebrows furrowed, ‘I’m not sure I can put it into words —’ He places his hands on either side of your cheeks. 

You stopped breathing.

‘You’ve given me something no one else has,’ he said, his voice near breaking. ‘Not because you wanted a hero. But because you saw me — as nothing more than a man. The farmboy. The one who still forgets to fold his laundry, after you’ve already asked him five times…’

You let out a sudden laugh, but it was not for his joke, your joy at his admission could not be contained; it surged out. You kissed him.

‘I love you, too.’ You murmured, Clark could hear the smile within your voice. Then he thought of the stars glimmering upon them, they shone bright, yet still somehow paled in your comparison. 

I was thinking of expanding upon the Jason Todd section and turning it into its own one-shot, would anyone be interested in that? Every comment and piece of advice is welcomed and appreciated <3

[stormy-skyzzzzzz-art]

did I draw self insert art? yes. yes i did.

is that cringe? absolutely.

do I give a fuck? nope.

[lorimnnn]

thinking about a man who fucks you into the mattress like a rabid dog. he laughs with smug satisfaction at the noises he hammers out of you, and the shame brands your cheeks with red.

"you're such a fuckin' freak, you know that? fuck. you get a kick out of lyin' to everyone about what you are? you deserve an oscar."

nobody would believe him if he told them, of course. but he doesn't have to. the shame is enough for you alone, because it will lead you back to him again and again, no matter how bad for you he is. but that's fine.

something that feels this good can't possibly be that bad, right?

[headcanonsetcc]

I've seen a lot about what it would like to date Jason Todd, so here's mine in three daily scenarios~

----------~(⁠*⁠˘⁠︶⁠˘⁠*⁠)⁠.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡

His arm hung lazily around your shoulders, a silent declaration that you are his, perhaps even a reminder for him. He manspread on the couch, a drink in one hand while the other squeezed your shoulder gently. You were both at the Wayne Manor after another one of Jason's mandatory family dinners Dick somehow convinced him to do every week, and Jason decided to bring you along. He never says it, and he might never actually admit it, but you are his anchor, the one thing that can hold him down. Tim was in a video game battle with Dick on the ground, laid out and focused solely on beating the other. Damian sat in the armchair beside them, criticizing every wrong move Tim made and saying how he would have done it better. Bruce was gone, probably somewhere in the BatCave, and Alfred was making his famous cookies, the smell so alluring that the other half of the Batfamily were all waiting in the kitchen.

"...Did you like dinner?" Jason asked, his voice only loud enough for you to hear. He had been staring at you silently for a while, something you noticed but didn't say anything about.

"I'm still thinking about that food even though I'm stuffed. It was delicious." You met his gaze, his blue eyes that had a smidge of green stared back at you, unspoken love clear in them. "I should thank your family again, especially Alfred for making me some food, too."

Jason only let out a light hum, and for a moment he didn't say anything, until he smiled softly and pressed a kiss to your lips, savoring the taste.

"Nah, it's okay. You've already told them twice."

You didn't know it, and in fact only Alfred and Bruce knew, but Jason had actually been the one to make tonight's dinner. Just for you.

-------------------

The morning light hits your eyes, making you squint and shift in bed. It has been another night filled with...strenuous activities, your clothes long forgot about in the kitchen where it first started. You were just lucky he brought you to his apartment, in fact, you mostly hung in his apartment either way. He loved the way your scent was everything of his and if he was being honest with himself, he needed more.

"You okay?" Jason muttered in your neck, the arm over your waist pulling you closer, needing to feel you. He knew he could be a bit rough during *those* moments.

"Mm yeah." You said sleepily despite your limps feeling like jelly. It was hard to tell how those nights would be, as he often switched between being gentle and rough, though you definitely didn't mind.

A moment of silence passed, the birds out the window chirping a sweet melody, adding to the moment. You could feel him open his eyes, his lashes tickling your skin. Then, softly, as if you were a delicate doll, *his* delicate doll, he pressed his lips to your neck. He started from the back of your neck, going towards the curve of your shoulder, even nibbling at your ear. You smiled, your eyes fluttering shut at the lingering kisses. His hand cupped your cheek, trying to turn your face towards him, but you let out an embarrassment 'no' and tugged away.

"My morning breath, love. I can't torture you with that." You joked, but he didn't care, only pulling you closer.

"I'll suffer." He faintly grinned, squeezing your hip and turning you to face him. He tilted your chin up and brought you in a deep kiss, one that made you think he didn't have a sense of smell or taste.

For the rest of the morning Jason had found it upon himself to kiss every atom that was you, his calloused hands, that were healing from you applying moisture and scrubbing them, never leaving your body nor did his lips.

-------------------

You knew Jason had some problems, okay, a lot of them, but it only made you love him more. His scars that you would always trace, his tears that you kiss away. Tonight wasn't any different.

You had just come back from work to find him sitting on the couch with his head in his hands. Slowly, you approached, a frown set in place.

"Baby?" You asked, your voice soft. When he didn't respond, you placed your hands over his on his face. "Jason."

Almost surprised, he looked up, panic in his eyes though not because of you. You softened at his glossy eyes, the sparkles of green highlighted in the blue, his lips a bit red from him biting them.

"Don't look at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you're pitying me. I don't need it."

You glanced between his eyes, your lips going in a thin line as you nodded slightly.

"It's not pity, Jason. It's concern. Concern for the person I love most. You." You clarified, running a hand through his hair and pulling him close.

His face was in your stomach, his shoulders tense from the unshed tears. He wasn't usually like this, he didn't allow himself to be, yet, when he felt you, smelt your comforting scent, he started bawling. His once hesitant tuff at your clothes between an unwavering grasp that told you just how much he needed you in this moment. His shoulders shook and for a moment you didn't see Red Hood or even Jason, you saw a little boy who was scared, you saw your boyfriend who doesn't need a lecture or to talk, but to just cry.

You waited until he was fully calm before lifting his face from your stomach, his hands still clinging onto you, even going underneath your shirt to feel your skin. Silently with a smile, one that he knew wasn't mocking or anything less than in love and caring, you placed tender kisses wherever you saw space on his face. His cheeks, his nose, the corners of his eyes and mouth. His puffy eyes fluttered closed, his lips parted as he memorized every touch of yours.

That night, he was the little spoon, and that morning, he didn't let go of you once.

---------------------

This was just how I saw him in a relationship. Kinda nonchalant but not at the same time, hecka caring and in love but afraid.

Hope y'all liked it~

[sams-batblog]

post patrol eepy's