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angel-achlys-r · 13 days ago

Note

could you do a jason todd fanfic ab his issues w/ food . joker literally poisoned this man and fed him rotten food and no one rlly talks about the long term effects of that yk .

Love ur work so far btw <3

Thank you! It actually makes me so mad that this particular trauma is rarely addressed by the fandom, so I would love love love to write a fic about it <3

Fic is here! It’s kinda short, but there will be a Part 2. I just wanted to separate some of the more triggering stuff from the comfort stuff so people can pick and choose their own level of exposer.

One Bite At A Time (Jason Todd x gn!reader angst) COMFORT + FLUFF COMING PART 2

To be honest guys, canon is just a suggestion at this point. This fic is a mix of plot from the Arkhamverse, the main continuity, and my own personal opinions lol.

IF YOU ARE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH ANY OF THE WARNINGS, DO NOT READ.

Warnings: eating disorder, talk of difficulty eating, mention of torture, mention of food insecurity, mention of substances, mention of substance abuse, talk of growing up below the poverty line, vomiting, PTSD, my man cannot catch a break, hopefully I didn’t miss any tags, let me know if I did.

____________________________________________________________________________

Jason Todd had a complicated relationship with food. He grew up in the Gotham slums, sometimes living on the streets, and food was scarce. His mother spent whatever money she had on drugs, so even as a child Jason was left to fend for himself.

Moving in with Bruce Wayne was a culture shock– there was food whenever he wanted it, easily accessible and always safe. For the first couple of months he lived in Wayne Manor, Jason would take food from the kitchen and hide it. Apples, crackers, the box of cereal Alfred had bought just that morning. It was a force of habit— he had grown up knowing that when things looked too good to be true, they usually were. Every time he sat down for a meal in the warm halls of his new home, he worried that the plates in front of him would be snatched away.

But slowly, food transitioned from his biggest insecurity to his greatest love. He would watch Alfred in the kitchen, learning how to make meals and bake cookies and brew soup. He would eat anything and everything– seemingly making up for all the years he spent malnourished.

Then came the Joker. The Joker who tortured him in ways that would turn even the most battle-hardened soldier green. But it wasn’t just crowbars and physical blows— the Joker played mind games. He got inside Jason’s head, he messed with psychology and his beliefs. And then he came for the one thing Jason had finally learned to love— food.

Everyday under Joker’s hand, Jason would be fed poisoned, rotten food. Maggots were behind every bite, thrashing and worming through the population of mold.

Bruises and cuts hurt, and then they heal. A week, a month, a year, and they were gone.

But no time could heal the scars Joker left on Jason’s mind.

Even after he escaped, even after he met you, food was never safe for him. He barely ate anything anymore, and when he did, it rarely stayed down.

You had noticed, of course. It was hard not to. Your boyfriend didn’t eat out, he barely ate the food his family made, and even when you made him food with as much love and care as you could muster, you would find him hunched over a toilet or a sink later that night, emptying his stomach and looking extremely apologetic.

Eventually he explained to you that it wasn’t your cooking— food just seemed to turn to lead inside his mouth. No matter how good, no matter how home-made, all he could taste was poison and rot.

He could eat the food he made himself, when he knew where everything came from and he knew that nothing was tampered with. But he rarely had time to cook, and so he basically lived off of half-assed peanut butter sandwiches.

You wanted to help him, you really, really, did. You just weren’t sure how.

____________________________________________________________________________

It was Sunday, dreaded Sunday, and Jason had gone to the weekly family dinner at Wayne Manor. In a house full of detectives, Jason’s eating issues had, of course, been noticed. No one said anything, but Jason knew they knew, and so he spent dinner convincing himself the food was fine and safe. He gulped down Alfred’s cooking, trying not to think about it too much, trying to convince everyone around him that he felt fine and safe.

In that regard, at least, he thought he had managed. He had even finished his plate of food, and by the end of the meal no one was shooting him worried looks, not even Dick.

He made it through dinner. He made it through the small-talk afterwards. He made it onto his motorcycle. He made it half-way back to your shared apartment before he started to feel the nausea rear its ugly head.

Now Jason can feel his stomach churning as he drives. It's a familiar feeling, the sickness that rises up any time he eats. He grits his teeth and focuses on the road in front of him, trying his best to ignore his traitor body.

He knows what's coming next. He can already feel the saliva rising in his mouth, signaling the impending return of whatever food he had managed to force down.

"Not now," he mutters to himself, gripping the handles of his motorcycle tightly. He rounds the corner onto your street, glancing up to see a light visible from the apartment.

Damn it. You're awake.

He sighs heavily and parks his motorcycle, preparing himself for the inevitable confrontation.

He enters the apartment, shutting the door quietly behind him. As he takes off his jacket, he glances at you sitting on the couch, pretending to be engrossed in your book.

Hearing Jason enter, you set your novel down, unfolding yourself from the couch to stand and walk over to him. “Hey,” you greet with a smile. “How was it?”

Jason forces a tight smile in return, shrugging off his jacket like it weighs a ton. His knuckles are white around the collar.

"Hey. Dinner? Yeah, it was fine. Alfred outdid himself. You eat already?”

“Ya, I had the leftover pasta.”

The nausea is still there, humming in his stomach. It gives a push to remind him of its presence. Jason nods, trying to focus on the conversation. It takes everything he has to keep himself from doubling over.

"Sounds good. I'm gonna, uh, go grab a shower. You coming to bed soon?" He starts to turn towards the bathroom, desperate for any kind of reprieve.

“Ya, sure. I’m just gonna finish my chapter.”

"Sounds good."

He walks off towards the bathroom and shuts the door behind him with a soft click. He leans against the door, his breath shaky and uneven. He can already feel a cold sweat breaking out on his forehead, and the familiar taste of vomit is rising at the back of his throat.

He turns the shower on– it’s hot, loud, sending steam curling under the door in seconds.

He turns to the toilet, making it just in time.

A few dry heaves at first– his body betraying him again– then the meager contents of dinner finally give in. Each retch feels like a failure.

When it's over, he rests his forehead against the cool porcelain, breathing hard.

"...Fuck."

After a moment, he rinses his mouth, splashes water on his face, and stares at himself in the mirror. His eyes are shadowed, jaw clenched. He grabs a towel and strips off his clothes without turning off the shower.

Let the water run. Let it drown out the silence.

He steps in and slides down to the floor of the tub, letting the scalding spray hit his back like punishment. He doesn’t move for ten minutes.

Eventually, the steam fogging everything, he whispers into wet tiles:

"I wanted to be okay for you."

____________________________________________________________________________

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angel-achlys-r · 14 days ago

Text

Tim Drake was a detective and so when he noticed Jason acting differently, he decided it was up to him to figure out why.

jason todd x fem! reader fluff

jason todd keeps his girlfriend secret from the batfam and tim tells the others

could bw read as a part 2 to mt previos post but not necessarily also im not a fan of my last post either im probs gonan delete it or whatevs

content warning: mentions of violence i think idk ots late and im tired cringy nicknames (cuddlebug, lovebug and baby 👶 )

i dont like how i ended thjs but whatevs mayeb ill het betyer but i also only wite fics when im hald alseep so provs not

no cass duke or steph because i dont know them that well and i dont want to mischaracterise and i also dont want to have a terrible excuse like oh theure all on a mission btw

workd count 1k

The first anomaly in Jason’s behaviour happened two years ago, he was added to the family group chat (again) and didn’t leave within 24 hours – it took him three whole days to leave, a record for him.

Anomaly number two occurred three months after the first incident. Jason willingly showed up to the manor to ‘hang out’. This is arguably more odd in Tim’s eyes, Jason never comes home willingly. At least with the group chat it could be rationalised, maybe he was busy and didn’t have his phone on him. Jason coming to the manor by choice was odd.

The third and final anomaly to alert Tim happened last week. Jason Todd was on his phone, texting and smiling. This is the man who goes radio silent for days, not answering phone calls or messages unless he feels like it. Whoever the man was texting must be very special. Special like a girl. Tim laughs at the thought, Jason with a girlfriend, a woman willingly being around him. Hilarious.

Jason had come to the Batcave looking significantly worse for wear. He was hurt, really badly. Hurt enough that Alfred insists on him staying the night. Luckily, Alfred is Jason’s favourite and so he managed to convince the young man to stay without much of a fight. As soon as Red Hood fell asleep, Tim struck. He steals his brother’s beloved leather jacket and begins rummaging. His pockets contain the following; three rubber bullets; one chapstick, unused, cherry flavour; one pocket knife; one lip gloss, used, pink and cherry flavour; a hair tie; a sticky note, of which the handwriting is swirly and contains a grocery list. Tim doesn’t care for the groceries, what he does notice is the message at the end, ‘dont forget i <3 u cuddlebug :-) pls dont be late tonite burgers for dinner’

The grin on Tim’s face can most definitely be described as shit eating. Jason has a girlfriend. Or should he say Cuddlebug has a girlfriend. Tim needs to find out who this girl is, and fast. He isn’t sure whether he’s in awe of whoever managed to tame the beast that is Jason Todd, or if he’s worried because let's be real, who in their right mind would date the Red Hood?

The teenager calls an emergency meeting ASAP. As soon as Dick, Damian, Bruce and Alfred are assembled in the cave, Tim lets it all out. “Jason has a girlfriend and she calls him Cuddlebug!”

Then Damian speaks, “Tt. I, being the superior one, knew this already. He loves her, it’s disgusting.” He crosses his arms, glaring at the unconscious man.

“Wait, what?” Tim splutters, arms waving wildly, “How did you know?”

“I followed Todd after patrol once, how else would I know, Drake?”

“Wait, Dami, is she pretty? Oh! Does she look at Jason the way I look at Kory? Do his eyes light up when he sees her?” Dick rattles off excitedly.

“She is.. Adequate,” That’s Damian for beautiful. “I didn’t see the rest, Richard, I was on a roof.”

“Bruce? What do you have to say about Cuddlebug and his girl, hm?” Tim wiggles his eyebrows aggressively.

“I have noticed that Jason has been happier lately. I am happy for him.”

Tim grumbles, clearly wanting more of a reaction from his father. Before he can complain any further a phone rings. It takes a while for him to register that it comes from Jason’s phone, the only ringtone Tim hasn’t been able to memorise. Dick lunges to pick up and put it on speaker. A quiet voice speaks out, “Baby? It's lovebug and it's late, when are you coming home? I want a cuddle..” Her voice sounds exhausted, as if she was waiting up for Jason.

Unfortunately for the self proclaimed Lovebug, it wasn’t Jason on the phone, but rather his brothers. Dick is the first to speak, barely concealing the glee in his voice, “Hi Lovebug, sorry but Cuddlebug is out of commission for the time being.”

“Oh… Is Jason okay? Is he hurt?” The girl introduces herself as an afterthought, not enjoying the way the nickname ‘Lovebug’ sounds coming from Dick’s mouth.

“Uh… Before I answer that, what do you know about Jason?" Dick asks, not sure if you know about their nighttime activities and for good reason too. Jason is easily the most secretive, excluding Bruce.

“I know everything, Dick, he told me, I promise… Can I come over? I wanna see him.”

Before anyone can say anything, Alfred pipes up, “Of course you can Miss, I trust you can make your way here safely?”

“Yes, yes sir. I’ll get there as quickly as I can.” There’s a short silence before she speaks up again, “Is he okay? No one answered me before..”

“He is quite alright, Miss. Just a few more scrapes and bruises than what he’s used to, Master Jason fell asleep almost immediately, I am sure he will be grateful to wake up with you by his side.” That’s all it took for you to rush to the manor.

You arrive in the pouring rain, still in your pyjamas. You know Jason, you know that he wouldn’t stay at the manor overnight unless he was on death’s door. When Alfred opens the door and ushers you in, your manners have been forgotten. You can feel bad about it tomorrow, all you’re focussed on right now is seeing your Jason.

Once you finally reach the cave, you see him. You let out a choked sob and rush to his side. You don’t understand how no one is treating your boyfriend’s condition as urgent. It looks urgent. He looks really bad. You ignore the others, they don’t try to introduce themselves, grasping the seriousness of the situation. It’s easy to forget that Jason is in critical condition when you face things similar everyday, you don’t blame them for their slightly apathetic approach to him. Jason gets the same way himself.

The next morning, Jason wakes up with you by his side and an audience. Dick grins at him, “Good morning Cuddlebug.”

No words are exchanged, just a pillow to Dick’s face before Jason flops back down, pulling you into him.

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angel-achlys-r · 16 days ago

Text

He couldn’t breath, his chest felt tight and his vision was wavering in and out, the edges becoming that of like television static and his head was a mess of conversations old and new to remind him of how he got here.

Here being hovering over a bathroom sink in a bathroom too classy for his standard, gripping the sides of the ceramic sink hard like it would crack under his grip and the running water wasn’t helping make matters better either, if anything it only made the noises within his head worse and the tightness within his chest to become unbearable. He was reminded that despite how much of the digital landscape ignores a lot of logic, able to do things beyond the realm of possibility and then some, he’s still very much a human at the end of the day much to his dismay.

He couldn’t remember much of his life outside of here, the youngest of the bunch and the one to have future endeavours taken from him the second he put on that damned headset. He didn’t know if he had family, siblings, a pet rat maybe? Friends? Romantic partners? He didn’t know his real self, only the exhausted purple bunny looking back at him through the mirror called Jax; that’s the only person he knew and that person was him, yet he looked so done with everything and everyone.

‘Jax?’ He heard your voice from the other side of the bathroom, worried, worried enough to the point it made him want to scoff.

‘You followed me here? What a creep.’ He said out loud, trying to act as though nothing was out of the ordinary, you didn’t need to know everything and he was planing on keeping it that way.

You sighed. ‘I came to check on you when I saw that you weren’t in your seat at the award ceremony.’

‘See, creep. You like watching me or something.’ Jax replied but his typical asshole smile didn’t reach his eyes, hands still clenched on the basin of the sink as though bracing that something within him was going to give, hoping to keep his voice level. ‘I don’t know why you bothered to follow me, I’m fine-‘

‘Nobody fine ever goes to the bathroom and slams the door shut, let me guess you’re holding the sink like you’re trying to crack it and you’re looking at your reflection as though it’s going to talk back to you?’ You interrupted and Jax swore you had seen too many movies where exactly that happens to the main character, but you were indeed right and he hated how easily you could see through all this. It pissed him off but yet a part of him was glad that someone was paying attention to him, noticing him, wanting to help him.

‘I hate you.’ Was all he said, not noticing how his vision cleared upon hearing your voice, giving him something to latch onto, to hold onto as the static faded away and the feeling within his chest subsided and giving way to a minuet flutter the second he saw you as you opened the door. Your face exactly like he imagined it would in this situation, the furrow in your brows and the frown upon your lips has the words of conversations past and present fleeting from his mind, it was as if seeing you in an equally distraught moment was comforting to Jax as to know he wasn’t alone in feeling so much deeply.

‘I know you do.’ You said as though you knew the deeper meaning behind those words, stepping closer to him. ‘I know you do.’ You repeated as you were mere feet away from him, taking your time and keeping your voice calm and unaffected by everything he did or said, which also pissed him off but soothed him in knowing that you weren’t one to budge because he’s lashing out and saying shit in hopes that something would stick, causing you hurt.

Yet at the same time deep down he knew he’d lick your wounds for you while whispering apology after apology against you while you told him it was expected to happen. It was a disgusting way of showing affection, of showing a deeper connection but it was the only way either of you knew, to the others outbursts and what out what’s to come as you huddled close together for comfort. It wasn’t healthy in the slightest and it would ruin you both, but you both had been here long enough to not care anymore and just accept any and all comfort you could give each other no matter how unhealthy it might seem.

‘Don’t expect me to get soft now because you found me.’ Jax practically spat out.

You shrugged. ‘That’s okay.’

‘I don’t need you.’

‘I know you don’t, I’m here regardless.’

‘I think you’re weak.’

‘And I think you even weaker for thinking this facade would last, it wasn’t made to and I told you that you’d get exhausted one day and all of your emotions will hit you back tenfold.’ You said.

‘And I didn’t listen.’ Jax finished off for you. You and Jax were kindred spirits, having came to the digital landscape at the same time roughly only minutes apart, saw people abstract, saw Ribbit abstract. You and Jax knew each other a little deeper then most here and you both had this cruel anticipation to see who’d abstract first; you or him and Jax feels as though he was loosing himself and you could smell it from miles away, only ever coming up close to see whether or not he was actually going to do so. You both exceeded the others original estimation, now it was merely a gamble on whether you’d see each other the next day, everything was a gamble in a game where the rules aren’t made clear enough, a game made by a game maker who had given up in making people actually enjoy his product and discarded most of the important aspects it took to winning this game.

‘You didn’t. No.’ You echoed back at him and Jax felt his feet make up their mind before he did, finding himself knelt in front of you as he hurried his face into your stomach, holding your waist tight as he only breathed you in as though you were the only thing to make sense in this chaotic madhouse. ‘Yet I’m still here.’ You add as you knelt in front of him, allowing him to cling onto your neck this time with his face burrowed deep into it, your hands rubbing his back soothingly as the running tap and Jax’s muffled hiccups were the only thing to accompany you both.

‘Yet you’re still here.’ Jax echoed softly, actually glad to say something that he truly meant.

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angel-achlys-r · 18 days ago

Text

conversations overheard on the batkid com lines pt 12 (league days 3) masterpost here

Dick: ok do another one, do another one.

Damian: *grunt* *the sound of fists hitting faces* i just did one- *yelp* aren't you guys taking down a cartel tonight?!

Tim: yeah but we're just waiting around for things to kick off right now, come on, give us another one.

Damian: god- fine, hold on. *the metal shlink of a katana being unsheathed*

Jason: *snorts*

Tim: he's so nice to us...

*distant screams*

Dick: you are so, so lucky that B's on bed rest tonight Robin. so lucky.

Damian, strained: yeah, well, tonight i'm not Batman's Robin, i'm Red Hood's, and Red Hood's Robin gets shit done faster.

Jason: atta-fuckin'-boy. i found the files in the back room by the way, just let me know if you need help.

*a scream* *a metal shlink*

Jason: although you sound to be doing fine.

Damian: *sigh* alright done. ok... it's loading a card.

Tim: i swear to god, i'm going to fucking ace this one.

Dick: yeah, well you said that last round.

Tim: I MEAN IT THIS TIME.

Jason: *snickers*

Damian: alright. ready?

Dick: bring it on, kiddo.

Damian: 'apart from my father, there is one other member of the bat-community that i am biologically related to. that person... is Duke Thomas.'

Jason: oh this is gonna be awesome

Dick: *sputters* S O R R Y?

Damian: *sigh* well i suppose that's one way for it to come out.

Tim: there is NO GODDAMN WAY- HE'S BLACK.

Damian: and i'm white? don't be racist, Red Robin.

Tim: I JUST MEAN- there is no goddamn way. absolutely not. this is a nay, it's a lie. we'd know.

Damian: fine. is that your final answer?

*silence*

Tim: ...for the sake of the game. explain.

Dick: *laughs* *deliriously* this is ridiculous...

Damian: ...so... as you all know... Duke's mother is Elaine Thomas and his step-father is Doug Thomas, while his biological father was the criminal known as Gnomon.

Tim, begrudging: mhm.

Damian: but what was kept hidden from you is that shortly before Duke was born, Gnomon was an associate of the league of assassins, and was a close associate of my grandfather.

Tim: ok there is no goddamn way- why would Ra's care about Gnomon?!

Damian: how small-minded are you, Drake? Gnomon is an immortal entity, hundreds, perhaps thousands of years old. are you stupid enough to believe that my immortality obsessed grandfather couldn't have met Gnomon at some point in his life and decided to keep in contact so he could combine their knowledge for his own gain at some point in the future?

Dick: ...alright shit he has a point.

Tim: NO HE FUCKING DOESN'T? HOW DOES GNOMON BEING FRIENDS WITH RA'S EXPLAIN HIM AND DUKE BEING RELATED?

Damian: well-, oh, shit. There are more men approaching the warehouse, Hood.

Jason, gleeful: nah nah, you stay inside and keep answering questions, i got this.

*gunshots* *distant yells and screams of pain*

Damian: eight o'clock, sniper.

Jason: got it, now focus on the game.

Dick: beautiful priorities. Robin, carry on.

Damian: *sigh* fine, what is the next question?

Dick: how does Ra's and Gnomon's friendship explain your relation to Signal?

Damian: ah. well, you are aware that i was originally created to be a potential new vessel for my grandfather?

Jason: *grunt* *snorts* yeah, until you started info-dumping about parrot species and he decided he wasn't gonna touch that brain with a ten foot pole.

Damian: shut up, i thought you weren't allowed to partake in the game? ANYWAY, you all know that i was originally just a vessel, and thus i was modified in the loa labs to enhance my abilities,

Tim: UHM-?

Dick: woah woah woah woah- NO? WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU'RE A LAB CHILD?

Damian: ....oh you didn't? that's not even a part of the game, i thought you knew that.

Tim and Dick, simultaneously: WHAT?!!??!

Jason: ??? yeah, guys, he got pit-dipped at one point and everything. i used to sit with him on the operating table after experiments and read him books. Ra's used me for some of those experiments too so it was kinda like sharing a room.

Dick: DOES BRUCE KNOW-

Damian: well i fucking thought he did but if you're all gonna be dramatic about it then i don't want to check...

Dick: DRAMATIC? DAMIAN, WE NEED TO-

Tim: Dick shut the fuck up a minute,

Dick: eh?!?

Tim: no- just, you know, it is a big deal and i'm happy to freak out about our little brother being experimented on later tonight, but for now... kinda trying to lock in on this fucking game.

Jason: *wheeze*

Tim: so you were experimented on, go on.

Damian: .........well... part of that experiment included mixing my DNA with that what grandfather believed might make me immortal, and he had asked Gnomon to kindly donate some DNA samples some decades back. so they were incorporated into my genetic make-up, meaning that some of my parental heritage technically belongs to Duke's father, making us biological half-siblings.

Dick, sarcastically: and you just decided never to mention it?

Tim: that's it, call Duke, i don't care if he's asleep-

Jason: ah-ah-ah-! no phone-a-friends!

Damian: -well Hood knew as he was aware of the experiments i went under, and of course i told Duke; apart from that it simply didn't seem relevant.

Tim: didn't seem relevant.

Dick: and Duke didn't think it was relevant either?!

Damian: ...to be honest, i don't think my brother wanted to start up another bout of batfamily drama. especially not one he was centric too. he found it funnier to keep it under wraps and watch from the side-lines.

*silence*

Tim: ...fuck that does sound like Duke.

Dick, amused: Tim-

Tim: NO. NO, DICK. BECAUSE THIS KEEPS FUCKING HAPPENING-

Jason: -you guys are on a stakeout, should you be saying his name so loud-?

Tim: AND THE CRAZIEST SHIT IS ALWAYS THE SHIT THAT'S TRUE! WE ALWAYS GET IT WRONG AND IT'S DRIVING ME INSANE.

Dick: ok but listen to him, there is no way that Dames and Duke are-

Tim: OK BUT WE SAID THAT ABOUT THE ALLIGATOR STORY, AND THE ONE IN PARIS, AND THE THING ABOUT THE LAVA-,

Damian: *snorts*

Tim: -AND HE'S FUCKING LAUGHING AT US-

Dick: BECAUSE HE KNOWS HE'S LYING,

Tim: -OR, OR BECAUSE HE'S TELLING THE TRUTH AND HE'S SMUG ABOUT THE AMOUNT OF CHAOS THIS PARTICULAR SECRET IS CAUSING.

Jason: holy fuck is that Black Mask-? uh, ok, wrap this up, me and my Robin for the night got business to attend to.

Damian: very well. final answers, you two. yay or nay?

*silence*

Tim: *screech of despair*

Dick: *cackle* ok, i'm saying nay, there's no way.

Damian: Red Robin?

Tim: .....um.

Tim: FUCK.

Dick, laughing: Tim,

Tim: LAST TIME I THOUGHT ONE OF THESE WAS RIDICULOUS IT WAS THE TRUTH! THE RIDICULOUS ONES ARE ALWAYS YAYS, IT'S RIDICULOUS.

Jason: that word has lost all meaning.

Damian: well?

Tim: fuck. ok i'm saying yay. yay, sure, whatever. it's the truth. give it to me. i'm fine. tell me now.

Jason: *snorts* Robin?

Damian: ...of course it's a nay, why on earth-

*the sound of something smashing against concrete*

Tim: OH- OH OF COURSE- WHY THE FUCK- OBVIOUSLY IT'S A FUCKING LIE, WHO THE FUCK WOULD HAVE BELIEVED THAT OBVIOUS BULLSHIT-

Jason: *wheezing*

Dick: Red, Red calm down- *wheeze*

Tim: HE SAID THAT HE AND FUCKING SIGNAL WERE RELATED, WHY THE FUCK WOULD THAT HAVE BEEN REAL? WHY WOULD ANYBODY- i'm going to fucking kill myself. i can't- i'm going to-

Dick: ok well you may not have to, because you totally gave away our position and i can see like three guns pointed in our- ok fuck DUCK-

*rapid gunshots*

Tim: I HATE THIS FUCKING GAME- FUCK-

Dick: RED SWITCH LINES WE GOTTA FOCUS HERE.

Damian: sucks to suck, Drake. see you two back at the cave.

*two pings*

*silence*

Jason: Black Mask is staring at me from across the street. he sees us, Robin.

*a beat*

Damian: Hood, what are you- are you having a fucking staring contest with him?

Jason: shut up, you're gonna distract me.

Damian: you're wearing a face-covering helmet-

Jason: I SAID SHUT UP I'M WINNING THIS THING.

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angel-achlys-r · 18 days ago

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CAPPUCCINO #7 FOR MY BABY GIRL JASON!!!!!!! please :3

☕︎ 𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 ━━━━━ a cappuccino for anon and jason todd .ᐟ.ᐟ

☕︎ coffees from rya’s 500 coffee cart .ᐟ.ᐟ

prompts chosen .ᐟ.ᐟ buying them flowers

genre/warnings .ᐟ.ᐟ 3.6k, band!au, bassist!jason, classical-cellist!reader, literally just fluff, suggestive themes, just more fluff LMAO

barista's notes .ᐟ.ᐟ well nonnie, i have to say, i recently finished glass heart on netflix and the whole band dynamic has me in a GRIP. so. here’s a music!au for you just because? disclaimer: i am a classical musician, and have literally no experience with the pop/rock/indie scene, but i listen to it all the time so surely…that counts?

“Aw fuck, he’s so hot,” someone laments to the side, and you make a vague noise of affirmation.

“Those biceps bro, do you think he’d mind if I asked to bite on them just for shits in the fan meet? God, they look so biteable.”

You incline your head. Hmm. You actually haven’t tried…yet.

“Okay,” Dick is saying on stage, grinning brightly up into the stunning lights, and sweat drips off his brow. “One last song, guys! Thank you all for coming to our concert—we’ll see you next time!”

Jason’s eyes flicker up at the screaming that erupts once Dick’s finished talking, gaze scanning the crowd as he searches. He doesn’t find you when Tim starts the song, the bass drum thudding away rhythmically in your bones, and you can tell he’s dissatisfied when he glances away from the audience to focus on his own playing.

You grin to yourself. Mission accomplished. You knew it was impossible to find someone in the crowd—it’s Jason’s own fault that he thought he could bet that he could find you before the last song. Ah. His loss.

“One, two, ah-one two three four!”

Immediately, everyone starts screeching the lyrics, the energy unparalleled. You bop your head away, yelling out the words alongside everyone else, feeling yourself being pulled along with the sway of the music. It’s nothing to what you’re used to—the precision of classical music, the very specific ways in which style is created from different periods.

You remember distinctly trying to teach Jason about the difference between early and late classical—because Haydn and Beethoven are decidedly not the same—only for your boyfriend to scrunch up his face adorably and complain. “I didn’t sign up for this kind of music theory,” he had moaned.

“C’mon, babe,” you had teased, “I thought you were supposed to be some music prodigy?”

He had shown you exactly what he thought of your teasing later, though, and a burst of thrilling heat sears through you at the memory. Your eyes snap open at the familiar lead into Jason’s famous bass solo, and like every other Jason fangirl that surrounds you, you start shrieking when you see Jason step forwards from where he usually stands besides Tim towards the back.

Dick’s eyes snap to you, almost instantly, and his smile only widens. You make sure to cup your mouth to make your screams project even further.

God, if your classmates could see you here. You’re pretty sure they think you’re some kind of prude who’s never even touched music outside of classical.

(To be honest, they’d be right. Jason had been the one to introduce you to the lovely work of rock and pop, quite embarrassingly. You still have no idea how he decided one day he was going to date the ‘uncultured swine’, but you’re not complaining.)

Jason perks up, definitely recognising your voice, but his solo begins and he can’t waste any time scanning the crowd, but he knows you’re there. And that’s enough for him to go wild, fingers dancing across the fingerboard as if speed were a joke and literally everyone goes crazy around you.

As soon as he focuses though, you fall silent, eyes trained on him. You’re a cellist yourself—you know your way around a string instrument, and your fingers twitch in phantom movements that echo his, darting up and down an imaginary fingerboard as he flies through insane arpeggios that you remember him practising. Firstly with dotted rhythms, then with elongated notes, then with a slow tempo, upping the metronome slowly…

You hear him. You hear Jason. It makes your chest want to burst with—with—

God. You just love him so fucking much.

The solo is over far too quickly for your liking, but you join the rest of the audience in screaming your lungs off as he steps away from the limelight. Dick snags him before he can disappear, throwing his arm around his brother with a loud “THAT WAS FUCKING INSANE!” whilst launching into the chorus, jumping up and down like an over-excited toddler.

Jason rolls his eyes at his brother’s antics, but still squares himself to sustain the man’s weight as Dick positively launches into the sky with how high he’s jumping. Despite all the jumps, though, his voice is as stable as ever, and you jump alongside him and scream the lyrics, albiet with much less finesse.

Dick pulls the microphone away from his mouth to point at the crowd, locking onto you first before waving his arm around to make it look like he’s just pointing at everyone. Jason’s eyes instantly snap to you, though, and you see the moment he registers that it’s you in the crowd.

“Jason!” you shriek, yelling as loud as you possible can. You’re pretty sure tomorrow he’ll have to hand you a cup of warm tea to soothe your throbbing throat. “JASON!”

His eyes light up, and his lips fly up into a smile before he can control himself. The crowd goes fucking wild because Jason never smiles on stage, not when he’s so focused on making music, and you know there’s going to be a gazillion more videos on the internet with various theories as to who he’s spotted in the crowd.

But you don’t care, because this is his song, and that’s all that matters. You wave like a madman, jumping up and down in tandem with the people around you, and you know Jason’s holding back laughter as he strums away.

“I LOVE YOU!” you bellow, only to be lost in the various other confessions made at the same time.

Jason’s smile softens, ever so slightly, and he replies with his eyes, I love you too.

You scream even louder this time, and his eyes light up with laughter. Maybe in a different setting, you’d feel terrible embarrassment for being so…out there, but this is Jason you’re screaming for. He’s the only person you think you’d ever screech and throw your head up and down so vigorously for.

“I know it’s not your type of scene,” Jason had said, trying to shrug carelessly, “but you know, it’ll be great if you were there. Y’know.”

You knew he had been afraid of you not having fun, or finding it too crass for your tastes. He couldn’t have been further from the truth.

When the concert begins to wind down, you’re still huffing and puffing and trying to regain your balance from all the shrieking, and the girl besides you smacks you a few times as she giggles with you as you stumble back into your seat. You don’t even mind the contact—adrenaline is still pumping through your veins as the boys say their thank yous, Jason shyly approaching the microphone to give a short but sweet message.

You muster enough strength to scream one more time as he says, “Thank you,” and his eyes flash to you instantly. His lips tug, and Dick playfully presses a finger to his lips, and you can’t help but throw your head back to laugh.

That’s the thing you hadn’t been expecting at this concert—the sheer euphoria that runs through just underneath your skin. No wonder why people clamber over each other to get inside.

However, you soon discover, the worst part of a concert is trying to get out of the venue. Everyone is pushing and shoving in case they catch a glimpse of the band also leaving, but you know that Damian hates crowds so much that they’ll willing to stay back a couple of hours to rest and avoid the stampede.

You may have been lucky enough to have Jason secure tickets in your preferred area of the stadium, but that doesn’t mean you’re spared from the way everyone tries to squeeze out of the exits at the same time. This is the chaos that you were expecting—and you’re certainly not disappointed, although some of the other girls attending were courteous and helped you stabilise when one particular shove have your entire row stumbling.

“Miss!” Your head snaps around at the familiar voice, and you brighten when you notice Alfred, the boys’ manager. “Over here!”

One of the girls who still has her hand on your arm pauses, before hissing, “Isn’t that—”

“Your pass, Miss!” Alfred prompts, eyebrows raised.

Oh shit, yeah. Your backstage pass. Why didn’t you think of that before?

“Sorry,” you murmur to the girl, detaching her from you, “uhm, family of the crew and all that—thank you though! You’re very kind!”

She blinks after you as you dart towards Alfred, which is in the opposite direction of the exit. You make sure to pull out your lanyard to show him, and he inspects it with a certain level of scrutiny that has you smiling.

“Well,” he says finally, equally amused, “I believe this is the correct pass. Follow me, Miss?”

“Of course,” you beam back at him, and he smiles gently. With an elegance you can only hope to emulate, Alfred pivots on his heel and leads you through a door that you didn’t even know existed, and you had spent at least the last three hours in this venue.

With great familiarity, Alfred takes each twist and turn without hesitation, only slowing after substantial distance has been placed between you and the exit. When he does, he falls into step behind you, offering a smile that is no less kind but far warmer.

“Hello, Miss,” he says.

“Hi, Alfred,” you grin, “how’ve you been?”

“Excellent, thank you for asking. How did you find the concert?”

As if triggering the right mechanism inside of you, energy bursts back as if you had never lost it in the first place. “Oh Alfred,” you breathe, almost bouncing on the spot with enthusiasm, “the concert was amazing! Oh my God—it was insane, how do you even begin to organise something like this? You’re like a god, Alfred!”

“Miss,” he says, fondly, “it is all a team effort. I am, however, sincerely glad that you enjoyed your time in the audience. Master Jason will certainly be content at hearing the news.”

“Oh!” You blink, raising a hand. “Speaking of Jason…have the flowers arrived? Just to be sure.”

“Of course,” Alfred inclines his head, “I will go fetch the bouquet as soon as you are passed into the right hands. I assume you would prefer to continue to keep it as a surprise?”

You smile sheepishly. “If possible?”

“Very much feasible,” he assures, smiling. “Ah, if it isn’t perfect timing. Then, Miss, I will see you soon.”

“Alfred—?” The elderly man’s smile just widens, slipping into an adjacent hallway with much more speed than you’d expect from his age. Your brows furrow, opening your mouth to call for him again, only to pause when you see who’s waiting for you at the end of your hallway.

Jason smiles, tilting his head to the smile like a schoolboy. Sweat still glistens on his neck, and a chilled bottle of water is in his hands, but he opens his arms and you bolt at him regardless.

“Oomph,” he says, laughing as you barrel straight into him, “I’m happy to see you too.”

“You were fucking amazing,” you screech into his chest, hugging him so tightly you think he might have trouble breathing. “This was one of the best experiences of my life!”

He laughs again, arms coming around you just as tight. “Yeah? You enjoyed it?”

“It was insane,” you say, and then scrunch up your face, pulling your face back so you can make eye-contact with Jason. He raises an eyebrow. “Sorry, I feel like I’ve been saying that a lot. I probably have. But it was. You were insane. God, Jason you were like—fuck, you were like the ultimate bassist, and I just—Jason, you were so hot.”

His thumbs traces circles around your hip as per usual, but they stutter in their movements as he coughs. “I’m sorry—wait—what?”

“You still are,” you say, earnestly, “oh my God, Jason, I get it now. You know how Dick got me on TikTok and Instagram and sent me all those thirst trap edits of you—”

“Oh God,” Jason mutters, but he’s still smiling.

“—I totally get it now!” You continue, undeterred. “I mean, God, you were just—you looked delicious up on that stage, no wonder why so many girls want to jump you. If it were physically possible, I honestly would’ve dragged you off that stage just to get a taste, you know.”

“Oh my God,” Jason repeats, this time a little more flustered. “Babe, that is not the reaction I was expecting. What happened to the good old, ‘nice music!’ or ‘sounds great’? C’mon, you’re even a professional musician yourself.”

You wave him off. “Yeah, but you always sound amazing. It’s not every day I get to see my smoking hot boyfriend sweat like a dog but still somehow look sexy as hell so—”

“Oh my God,” Jason complains, setting his water bottle aside to squish your cheeks in his hands. One of his hands is warm, and a little sticky with sweat, whilst the other one is cold from touching the chilled water and it slides a bit from the condensation. “Stop it. You’re being too cute, stop it.”

You scowl at him, but it’s only half-successful with your face in his grasp. “What, I can’t appreciate how hot my man looks on stage?”

“Hmm,” Jason shrugs, “your man wouldn’t be opposed to appreciation given in an…alternate method.”

“Pervert,” Tim coughs loudly, poking his head of a nearby door. “That’s fucking disgusting, don’t disrespect my bro like that.”

“Tim!” You launch yourself at him, throwing yourself into another bear hug. Tim wobbles a little under your force—he’s always been on the skinner side of the spectrum—but hugs you back just as warmly, arms securing around you. “You were amazing,” you say, firmly, “you were rocking those tom-toms. Absolutely demolished the show.”

“Thank you,” he beams, “I knew you’d appreciate good drumming.”

Jason grumbles, crossing his arms like petulant child, “She’s a cellist.”

“And?” Tim challenges. “Even a bassoonist can appreciate good drumming—it’s a matter of rhythmic instinct, Jason.”

“Fuck you too,” Jason shoots back, but with little heat. “Now release my girlfriend, I want to hug her some more.”

“She hugged me first!”

“Yeah well, you’re the one who’s clinging—”

“Miss,” Alfred interrupts, rounding the corner with a familiar bouquet in his hands, “your delivery has arrived.”

Both Tim and Jason fall silent, eyes widening at the size of the bundle. Alfred stops in front of you as you detangle yourself from Tim, chuckling softly as you eagerly hold your arms out to hold the bouquet, and he gently transfer the positively massive bundle of flowers into your waiting arms.

It’s a combination of red and white flowers, with the main large flower being red chrysanthemums. It reminds you vividly of Jason’s first bouquet to you, after the first recital of yours he had gone to.

Jason had bought you a bouquet of red roses, handing them to you shyly after your performance. His face had been bright red, and yours had been flaming with heat—he had literally asked you like maybe a few weeks beforehand—and Dick proceeded to tease the two of you for the next month about the whole ordeal. But it had been such a sweet thing and you still have a dry-pressed rose from that very bouquet that you store in your cello case for luck.

You wanted to return the favour. You’re…pretty sure that rock bands don’t really get bouquets after a performance, because you’re definitely sure that rock bands and classical performers don’t have the same etiquette, but all artists deserve some flowers for their performance.

That’s why you turn to Jason, needing to poke your head around the side of the bouquet to smile up at him, and gently push it forward, in an offering. He stares at you, slack-jawed.

“Congratulations on an amazing concert,” you say, sincerely.

There’s a beat of silence. Tim clears his throat awkwardly, and out of the corner of your eye, you see him smile. “That’s one big set of flowers,” he notes. “Planning to share with the rest of us, Jay?”

“Fuck no,” Jason says, automatically. “They’re mine.”

Despite his aggressive tone, his fingers are soft as he accepts the set of flowers from you. Compared to you, the flowers look much smaller against his massive frame, but he caresses them with a care that you hadn’t expected. “Thank you,” he says, quietly, and only to you. “This is—you shouldn’t have.”

You beckon for Jason to come closer. He acquiesces, leaning forwards so his face is closer, curiosity darting across his features.

You press a chaste kiss to his cheek. He freezes underneath you.

“I love you, Jay,” you say, confidently. “Today was honestly one of the best things I’ve ever experienced, and I’m not saying that because I love you.”

Jason’s mouth forms an ‘o’, and you realise belatedly that this is probably the first time you’ve ever said those words out loud before. A cute flush erupts from his neck, creeping up to his jaw and painting his ears bright red, and you laugh as you press another kiss to his cheek, this time firmer.

“Tim,” Jason says tightly, and that’s all the warning his brother gets before the flowers are shoved in the poor guy’s face and Jason’s arms are free.

Tim splutters off to the side as he tries to get a hold on the bouquet as Jason grabs at your waist, pulling you in so close that for a moment, all you can see and smell is Jason. His cologne, his sweat, the absolutely dazzling smile he has on his face as he presses his lips against yours with a ferocity that has you squeaking out in surprise.

“Oh ew,” Tim says, somewhere in your peripheral, but you lose whatever else he says as you melt into Jason’s embrace, arms winding up to find their places on his shoulder.

Jason whine as you tug at the strands of hair behind his neck, deepening the kiss as you giggle, the two of you grinning like mad men as he keeps kissing you, over and over. “I love you,” he’s chanting, between each kiss, but you barely register it as he pulls you in for breathtaking kiss after breathtaking kiss—and literally, as he sucks up your air with every lick of his tongue. “I love you, I love you, God—”

“Oh fuck! There’s a kid here, keep it PG-13 oh my God!”

Jason groans, pulling away to rest his forehead against you as the final two members of the Batboys make their appearance. “For fuck’s sake,” Jason grounds out, “some privacy?”

“You should’ve picked a room instead the hallway then,” Damian sniffs, and you laugh breathlessly. “And also, I’m not a child. I’m seventeen.”

Dick makes a noise of complaint. “Legally still a child, Little D! Still a child, and you should not be seeing things like your brother making out in a public hallway—oh my God I need bleach for my eyes—”

“Stop being such a drama queen,” Jason snaps, straightening. His arm slots around your waist and he tugs you into him, your frame fitting perfectly against his.

Dick rolls his eyes and pokes his tongue out, only to soften when he sees you. “Hi, sweets,” he says, brightly. “Nice to see you again!”

You wave. “Hi, Dick. Likewise!”

“Dick,” Tim says, loudly, “guess what Jason’s girlfriend got us? A lovely bouquet of flowers that coincidentally I just remembered we could put on the new cupboard in the rehearsal room—”

“It’s not yours fuckhead, it’s mine!”

“Well you gave it to me, so how was I supposed to know you weren’t just giving them to me like a gift?” Tim shrugs. “Whatever, it’s massive—you can have like, one or two buds, I’m generous like that.”

Jason scowls descends into unholy grounds. “Timothy Jackson—”

“It’s okay,” you interrupt, patting your boyfriend’s unfairly sturdy pecs, “I can always get you more, Jay. I like getting you flowers.”

Jason stalls, and the strawberry blush returns. You coo, pressing your lips to the junction of where his neck and his jaw meets.

“Whatever,” Jason grumbles, suddenly shy, “I just—they’re not cheap, baby, I don’t want this set wasted on a bunch of idiots who wouldn’t know how to care for them.”

“You wouldn’t either!” Tim exclaims, offended.

“I actually have some experience—” Dick starts, only for Jason to snort and roll his eyes.

“Yeah right,” Jason says, and Dick huffs and rolls his eyes in return. Jason ignores him, saying to Tim, “Hand the bouquet over—next time you can get your own girlfriend to buy you flowers. Those are mine. C’mon.”

Tim sighs exaggeratedly, but he’s smiling as he hands them back. “If I knew you loved flowers this much, I would’ve elected to get you just like a fifty-buck bouquet instead.”

“I don’t want flowers from you,” Jason scoffs, “I just want flowers from my girlfriend.”

Sensing your cue, you look up to kiss his cheek again. Tim groans, defeated, throwing up hands up as he complains, “God, that’s being mean! Don’t do that shit right in front of me!”

Jason grins into your temple, one arm securely around the bouquet and the other looped around your waist. It must make for an image that none of his fans ever would’ve expected from the edgy, literature-loving bassist of the Batboys, but it’s one that makes your heart warm.

This is your Jason. And you love him so much.

“M’gonna shower and get changed,” he murmurs, lowly so only you can hear, “and then we can go home, and I can thank you properly for these flowers. Sounds like a plan?”

This time, it’s you whose face burns. “S—sure,” you cough out, making Dick groan and grab Damian to leave, “sounds like a plan.”

Jason grins, wicked. “Perfect. Thank you for the flowers, babe.”

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