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fandomizer · 1 month ago

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Jason Todd: Guests

A/N: Imagine living with Jason and his family getting suspicious about his mysterious roomie. It’s not what they expected.

Warnings: Maybe 2 swear words.

>>>>————————>

It was a bizarre phenomenon, Jason returning to the same place over and over again. Usually he’d rotate between safe houses or rented accommodation but not this. The family weren’t tracking him exactly but they looked out for their own - this situation peaking their curiosity enough for them to check it out.

You were lazing on the sofa having arrived home before your partner in crime fighting until you heard the window click. At first you assumed it was him, but you’d grown accustomed to his movements, how he did things just as he’d adjusted to your behaviours and this most definitely was not Jason entering your lovely shared quarters. You were certain it wasn’t Roy either, nothing had smashed yet…

Silently you’d grasped your katana from the floor, finger instinctively running across the golden rimmed hilt and swiftly swivelled the perfectly balanced blade as you stood to place a foot on the back of your couch smirking at your intruder.

“You picked the wrong window sweetheart~”

The stranger froze, immediately stumbling to a halt rather surprised that he’d been discovered so quickly and held his hands up in surrender.

“Uh sorry… I -” The male didn’t get a chance to explain when Red Hood swung through the window with a boot to the intruders back which sent him to the ground only for him to flip back up seconds later.

Before you could move to attack, Jason patted your thigh which urged you to step over the couch and join his side. “Dick is no threat, trust me.”

The man in question offered a sheepish wave once your suspicious gaze fell upon him and so you walked over eerily calm, the tip of your sword placed under his chin and used to tilt his head upwards.

“You are lucky Jay trusts you intruder, now would you like tea or coffee?” You gave an unreadable expression but one that stirred an answer.

“Coffee… please…”

You kindly smiled, sheathing your blade to lean against the counter whilst you prepared beverages.

Dick took the time to look around the nicely sized space, one that you presumably shared with his brother considering it was a 2 bedroom apartment. It explained the cultural decor and selection of blades decorating the back wall in designer fashion - obviously they were not ‘decorations’, they were sharpened weapons you and Jason regularly alternated between on the field. Although one thing caught his eye, a jar full of money on the side.

“A swear jar? Really?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, it’d take more than that to stop Jason’s foul mouth. This is more fitting for the both of us - in fact it pays the bills.” You laughed, placing the warm mug into his hands before spinning the glass to reveal the label that read ’Talked Shit about my Mentor’.

Jason nodded in agreement with a prideful smirk whereas Dick pulled out a few dollars with a haphazard shrug.

“I get it, I’ve said ’fuck Batman’ at least once.” Now you and Jason mocked shock with over dramatic gestures and you held onto one another for support during your laughter whilst Dick sighed at your childish antics, although it was endearing to see Jason so free around someone. Another interruption via the front door concerned the three of you so once unlocking it you were greeted with two young men of whom you’d never met but when glancing back to a sighing Jason you instantly knew to let them in.

“Told you knocking like a normal person was the best option Grayson.” Damian wore a smug grin, obviously witness to Jason hitting him through the window earlier.

“For once… ugh… I agree with the demon spawn.” Tim sighed, emphasising his distaste on the matter - you knew of his family and were aware that these two had a rocky relationship at times.

You could tell the youngest took the time to admire the widely decorated interior, Jason’s cultural taste intriguing him in particular.

“Your lover brings out the most in you Todd, you are truly yourself around them.”

At that point, everyone snapped to the two of you due to your uncharacteristic silence - the reaction being two intimidating vigilantes with crossed arms staring them down supposedly unimpressed by Damians accusations.

“Ya hear that babe? They think we’re dating.” Snark surrounded his cocky tone, but their assumption deserved such a blunt response considering you’d only just met.

“Well Batman fails at training adequate detectives then.” Along with your own sarcasm came a playful elbow to your ribs courtesy of Jason causing you to release a giggling groan.

“Firstly, he trained me and I’m amazing, secondly pay up (Y/n).”

“I find it hard to believe that you would choose to consistently come back to someone with no feelings being involved, it’s out of character. You hate letting people in.” Tim suspiciously commented, yourself paying your due to the jar with a concerned expression even though Batman wasn’t your mentor (if Jason insulted your mentor then he’d put money into the jar as well).

“There’s a lot of components to our relationship that I’m not willing to discuss with any of you. And I hate that you know me that well Timbers.”

“Well I like your family Jason, they’re good people. Like you said.”

“Hah! Knew you appreciated us Jason!” Tim proudly confirmed, finger pointed at his predecessor in some form of triumph.

“Uh whatever - time to go! Get out of our apartment, we’re going to bed!” Jason’s walls were ever prominent, extinguishing any outer emotion for the Batfam like usual despite it being common knowledge he viewed them as allies at the very least.

“It’s been a busy night but feel free to drop by again some time, you’re all very welcome here.” You made sure to intercede, somewhat grateful for their impromptu visit even if Jason displayed a polar opinion.

“Do not drop by, you’re not welcome, (Y/n) is lying to be nice. Now go.” Your partner corrected, emphasising disagreement at every chance he could get leaving you to openly defend yourself.

“I’m not lying.” You sniggered, raising a brow at your partner’s antics.

“For the sake of getting rid, please don’t encourage them.” Jason mock begged you, urging you over to his side out of sheer desperation for his solitude that only you were often included in.

Dick glanced between you two admiring the subconscious connection, the way you looked at one another as well as the playfully challenging comebacks you exhibited - Jason was happy. “Looks like a couples dispute, we’ll leave you to it. See you next week, thanks for the coffee (Y/n)~” The eldest finished knowingly, understanding that there’d be more time for bonding later on as it became apparent that you were not parting from Jason in the near future.

“You will not see us next week, I’ll lock the doors and windows.” Jason briskly countered, sending a pointed look to a sheepish Dick who rubbed the back of his neck when recalling his previous entrance.

“TT, I only plan to see (L/n).” Damian was nonchalant about that fact, not even sparing Jason a glance.

“Fuck off Demon Spawn!”

“Make me T-mfph.” Dick took the opportunity to silence the youngest Wayne and usher him out followed by an amused Tim and accompanied by a flurry of varying goodbyes.

It left you and Jason to bask in the silence of your own company and time to digest the recent bustling activity.

“So they really don’t know huh?” Your voice was more solemn than before, lacking its usual playful glint to it. Jason knew you were serious about this one.

“…I thought about telling them, but then I got distracted and honestly, I like this. Just us. For now anyway.” You’d been around long enough to detect his sincerity, the wistfulness lacing his voice as he presumably got lost in thought of the future - specifically how they’d react when they knew.

“Mhm, for the record - my brothers in law aren’t that bad y’know.” A shrug followed your words, gaze flicking to the golden wedding band beautifully crafted into the hilt of your signature katana, Jasons’ ring located on the handle of his favoured knife of which accompanied him everywhere - it was unorthodox but suited the two of you perfectly.

“Heh, wait 'til you meet the so called 'Father’. He’s a dick but can’t be worse than your mentor.” Your partner proudly stated, opting to make you a drink before bed.

“Jar.” Your voice was smug yet contrastingly stern, and Jason could only whine in defence.

“Oh come on, we both know I’ve said worse!”

“Nu-uh, still counts babe. In fact that’s two in one, so pay up!”

How this marriage of yours had worked continued to stifle each other, but you were grateful to have fallen in love with Jason Todd - almost as grateful as he was to have met you that fateful night.

Almost.

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fandomizer · 1 month ago

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Feel like I’m so basic but Jason Todd with a crush and him having zero social skills and just being super clumsy despite being highly competent when he’s in the field. Crush is like real sweet and kind maybe a service worker ✨

anon u are so true and real for this bc jason is definitely an unsocialized cat when he has a crush 💓

jason todd x gn!reader. shyish/anxious jason with a big fat crush. baker reader. annoying customer. the duality of jason todd. 1.6k words.

also i fully believe that silently leaving huge tips as a way to flirt is like. a wayne trait. 100% that family does that bc of bruce.

prompt lists are here! i reblog all fics to @sanguinelibrary

****

Business has been slow.

It's not like you expect your cafe to be packed to the rafters all day long, but you've had a grand total of four customers today. One of them only came in to ask where Starbucks was.

Frankly, you're not sure the cafe can afford to stay afloat for much longer. Gotham isn't known to preserve small businesses, and the conglomerates (cough, Wayne Enterprises) are taking over the world anyway.

So today is a reading day. You might even close early.

You're at a table in the back, so absorbed in Poirot's sleuthing that you don't hear the door open. It isn't until you turn the page and look up that you see your resident lurker waiting quietly at the display case. You flinch so hard that you spill iced tea on your jeans.

"Shit," you murmur, grabbing a wad of napkins and patting yourself dry.

Jason (as is written on his coffee cup) looks up from the pastries, teal eyes wide. You smile briefly at him. For such a big guy, his footsteps are astonishingly soft.

"Is everything okay?" he asks, voice rough like he doesn't speak much.

"Yeah, fine. You just startled me—I didn't hear you come in. Were you waiting long? Sorry about that."

"Oh. No, I wasn't. Sorry." He shifts weight between his feet. "You seemed pretty engrossed in your book. I didn't, uh, want to disturb you."

"Oh, hey, don't worry about that! It's literally my job to be here," you say, though you can't help but melt over how freaking sweet that is.

Jason visits you a minimum of twice a week. He's been coming for a couple of weeks. You know a whole three things about him: he's a university student, he pretty much only dresses in red or black, and he's unfairly cute.

At first, you were reasonably wary of him because it's Gotham, and he's so damn quiet. It's a little scary. You thought maybe he was an undercover spy casing the joint. Now you know he's just awkward.

"Slow day?" he asks.

"Slow year, more like. How are you? How was your exam?"

He blinks. "Exam?"

"Didn't you have an American lit exam last week?"

"Oh. Uh, yeah. Wow. Yes, I did. It was okay. Got an A."

"That's great! I knew you'd ace it."

His cheeks turn pink. Okay, you actually know four things about him: he blushes a lot.

You go to start the coffee machine. "Do you think you'll—"

"I-I have to go."

You watch, stunned, as he hurries out the door. That's when you notice the fifty dollar bill in your tip jar.

You don't know if you should bring up yesterday. Jason's back; that probably means everything's fine, right? You're not sure if you said something wrong, though. You've gone over the interaction a hundred times since and you can't figure out why he's so skittish around you.

"Hi. Hibiscus tea, please," he says, stoic as always.

You prepare his order, yesterday's interaction still fresh in your head. You should say something, shouldn't you? Or...

"Sorry about yesterday," Jason blurts, so fast you almost miss it. "Running out, I mean. I was, uh—I forgot something."

Well. Looks like he's going to bring it up for you.

"Oh, you don't have to apologize! If I said something wrong..."

Jason shakes his head fervently. "No, God no. You're perfect."

Your eyebrows shoot up. He turns red this time.

"I mean—not perf—well, you're amazing, don't get me wrong! Except, like, what is perfect, y'know? My brother has gotten into the habit of calling everything perfection like some kind of sitcom character. Alfred will make pie, and Dick'll go, "Alfie, that was perfection." And I feel like it's such an exaggeration—"

Jason's mouth snaps closed. He rubs his forehead.

"Um, I actually have chronic foot-in-mouth disease. It gets really, stupidly bad. Sorry."

You're trying hard not to giggle. You want to smother him in frosting and take a bite.

"You're really sweet, you know that?" you say.

"I'm really not," he says with a sigh.

"Not true. Can you do me a favor?"

"Anything."

You go into the kitchen and return with your latest experiment: matcha cream puffs.

"Do you mind trying these for me? You're not allergic to anything, are you?"

Jason's shoulders hunch. "Are you sure you want my opinion?"

"Of course I'm sure," you say happily. "I trust you."

"You trust me," he repeats quietly.

"Yup!"

Jason takes a puff and bites. He starts to nod.

"It's really good. You're really—all your creations are—yeah. It's good."

You squint. "No notes? Really?"

"They're perfection, as my brother would say."

Fuck, you like him so much.

"Have another one," you say, pushing the tray towards him.

"I shouldn't—"

"Wait! I'll pack you some!" you interrupt, flitting back to the kitchen to get a Tupperware.

Jason helplessly accepts the container of puffs you shove into his hands.

"Let me pay-" he tries to say, but you shake your head.

"Nope! I won't accept payment for these. Not from my favorite customer."

"Your favorite?"

"My favorite," you confirm, grinning.

"Oh." His ears turn pink as he walks to the door, cream puffs in hand. "Uh, right. Thanks. See you tomorrow."

"Jason? Don't you want your tea?"

"Shit. Yeah." He returns to the counter and takes his drink. This he insists on paying for, so you let him, because you do have rent to pay, after all.

"So nice to see you!" you add, because the stiffness in his gait is kind of throwing you off.

He just nods, slipping out the door as quietly as he came.

Today, Jason's in a red workout tank. You have to make the conscious effort to not ogle his arms.

"Hey, Jason!" you say cheerily.

"Hi," he says softly.

"The usual?" you ask, and he looks up in surprise.

"You know my order?"

You gently roll your eyes. "Of course I know your order, silly. Favorite customer, remember?"

"Oh." He looks away, brow furrowed. Then he turns to you and his expression smooths over. "Yes, please. Thanks."

"Sure. Give me one second? I just have to finish decorating some sugar cookies."

"Take your time," Jason says, then goes to skulk by the window.

The door is suddenly swung harder than necessary, thumping the glass.

"Hey!"

You look up from the cookies. A man in a suit is waving his phone impatiently.

"I ordered a dozen muffins. Where are they, huh?" he demands.

"Oh, right! Well, you called ten minutes ago, so they won't be ready till six, sir. Can I get you something while you wait?"

He scoffs and stomps to the counter. You almost back down, but you don't; that's exactly what these bullies want.

"This is exactly why no one eats at dinky cafes like yours. You can't even do this!" he fumes, shoving a finger in your face.

"Sir, like I said, the muffins are baking..."

"I know the city's health inspector personally," the man spits viciously. "One call, and I can—"

"Say one more word."

You blink as Jason is suddenly between you and the customer, stood at his full height. He's all muscle and broad shoulders, looming over the guy. You peek around him.

"What the fuck, man?" the angry customer squawks. "Move!"

"No, you move," Jason says, tone lethal. "Sit quietly at a table and wait for your muffins to bake. Then you can thank the nice baker for waiting on your sorry ass and you're not gonna come back. They have far more patience for entitled fucks than I do."

"Fuck you," the man spits.

Jason calmly closes the distance between them and whispers in his ear, hand like a vice around the jerk's shoulder. You watch as he turns pale, eyes growing wider.

"Sound good?" Jason asks pleasantly, all teeth. The man gapes at him.

Wow. Yeah. This is really doing something for you.

The oven dings. You go to retrieve the muffins, packing them as quickly as possible. You give him the box and the man nods.

"Thanks," he mumbles, then scurries out of the store.

Jason turns to you, and it's like looking at a completely different person.

"You okay?" he asks, posture stiff like he's still prepared for a fight.

You nod, a little dazed.

"Yeah. Wow. Jason, I... you didn't have to do that. I mean, thank you for doing it, but..."

"Hey, that guy was a jackass. And if you have trouble with him or anyone else, call me, okay?"

This side of him stuns you. If you didn't know better, you'd think he had this exchange regularly.

"Call you?" you ask, smiling. "How will I call you if I don't have your number?"

He freezes, eyes wide. "Oh. Uh. Um..."

You lean over, elbows on your counter. He watches you. You cup your hand around your mouth, pretending to divulge a secret.

"This is where you, the cute guy who frequents my struggling cafe, gives me your number."

"You think I'm cute?" he asks.

"Devastatingly so," you say, grinning.

He's quiet for a long moment. Your smile starts to dim.

"Did I read this wrong?" you ask. "If I came off too strong..."

"No!" he says a little too loud. Jason winces. "Sorry. No. I... you're... fuck, I'm not good at this. I don't even really drink tea or coffee, to be honest. I just come in to see you."

"You do?"

Jason sighs. "Yeah. Shit. That's creepy, isn't it?"

You laugh and he visibly softens.

"No, Jason," you say warmly. "It's sweet."

"So can I still ask you on a proper date? Not coffee."

You grin. "That would be perfection."

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fandomizer · 2 months ago

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Jason Todd with a significant other who is kind and patient with him, but is also the most blunt person he’s ever met - and not in the same defensive, snarky way that he is. No, blunt as in brutually honest and without a filter about everything, including your relationship.

And yeah, considering communication and sharing his own feelings aren’t exactly his strong suits, he’s glad for it, cause if there’s something not sitting right with you, at least he’ll know immediately and can work on it. He’s used to always having to fix things, after all.

But then there’s the other things you say like it’s no big deal. He’s not sure what to do with any of that, cause he’s just not used to someone being on his side, someone quite literally shouting his self loathing and doubts into submission for him when necessary. What he does know is you’re about to put him in an early second grave, cause he swears his heart just about gives out with the stuff that comes out of your mouth at times.

“This is your home now, too, why wouldn’t you have your own space in the closet?”

“Hm? Oh yeah, I asked Alfred to give me the recipes for your favorite dishes; I won’t have you be the only one who cooks around here.”

“Wait you actually think I’d be turned off by your scars? You’re normally such a smart, observant man, how the fuck are you this oblivious??”

“Of course I worry when I don’t hear from you for days!! I’m not telling you to call me every hour, but put a freaking note on the fridge next time you leave the country god damnit!!”

“So I know you just got back from patrol and are probably tired, but before you take off all your gear, how are we feeling about you bending me over the kitchen counter in full costume, yes or no?”

“Jason Peter Todd, you’re not setting another foot down those stairs until I’ve had my goodbye kiss!”

“Don’t you fucking dare pull the whole ‘I’m putting you in danger, you’d be better off without me’ crap; you’d have bled out two times in the last month alone if not for me, so get your dramatic ass in bed before I put it there myself.”

If all of that weren’t enough, Jason will most definitely never forget the time you’d stared down Batman, not Bruce Wayne, but the literal fucking Batman, cowl and all, the figure that strikes fear into the hearts of hardened criminals and super villains alike, and had told him to maybe spend some more time down on the streets instead of above them before he lectures him about morals again, otherwise you’d shove his stupid cape so far up his ass, he’d be tasting Kevlar for weeks.

And maybe, just maybe, ever since then, Jason is inconspicuously sneaking glances at rings any time you two walk past a jewelry store.

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fandomizer · 2 months ago

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One Night Stands Only [Jason Todd x GN!Reader]

Summary: It’s obvious Jason only has one night stands - right?

Genre: fluff, tiny bit of hurt/comfort

Word Count: 4,6k

Warnings: none

A/N: Came across the DC Valentine’s special again and… yeah. Decided to do sth about it 💁

If you use any of my works for AI I will hunt you down for sport 😬

“You were right, it’s a nice place.” Bernard nods appraisingly, glancing around the newly opened bookstore, little café situated right in the middle. It’s not a new concept by any means, but the high ceilings and big windows allow the little natural light Gotham has to brighten the entire place and the cozy couches and booths scattered between shelves make for a nice and different respite from what the city usually has to offer. Tim hums in approval as he glances over the menu again. “Yeah; quiet, comfy, good coffee selection. I should thank the person who recommended it.”

“And who was that?” Bernard asks over his shoulder before greeting the girl working the counter and placing their order. Tim’s brows immediately furrow. “It was… I heard about it from… Uhm…” The blonde chuckles as he steers his boyfriend towards a nearby table, eyes flicking towards a corner sofa. “You think it might’ve been your brother?” Tim snorts. “Which one?” He receives a gesture at something behind him as an answer and finds Jason sitting on one of the couches a little further back, book propped open in his lap and a few more stacked on the small, round table in front of him and Tim nods. “Okay, sure, that tracks.” Bernard watches over Tim’s shoulder a few moments longer, then a small smile forms on his face. “I mean, yeah, it is a nice place for a date.”

Tim’s head snaps back around so fast it’s comical, a disbelieving, almost scandalized ‘Date?!’ out of his mouth before he can stop it. Sure enough, someone else has joined his brother, just in the process of placing two cups on the table - or trying to anyways; an almost impossible task with the amount of books already occupying the small space. And while he might not be able to hear either of you, he wouldn’t be part of a family of world class detectives if he couldn’t read lips.

‘Okay, should I just get like, a whole teapot now? How long do you plan on being here?’

‘Eh, not long.’

‘Jay, even you can’t read five books at once.’

‘Watch me.’

A cocky grin and an eyebrow waggle, which earns him an eye roll from the mystery person, albeit attached to a fond smile, followed by a shooing motion to scoot further down the sofa and make space, to which he obliges immediately. Tucked into Jason’s side, his arm coming around your shoulders entirely too naturally as both of you go back to your books, seemingly all settled and content to simply be in the other’s presence like this.

Tim turns back to his boyfriend with brows drawn together, lips pressed into a thin line and fingers tapping his chin in thought - and Bernard knows exactly what that look means. “Tim, switch outta detective mode. Your brother has a date, so what?” But the gears are clearly already turning and not stopping anytime soon. “It’s just… Jason only has one night stands.” It’s a look somewhere between surprise, disbelief and even offense before the blonde speaks up again. “Isn’t that a bit presumptuous? You don’t know if—“ Tim vehemently shakes his head to interrupt him. “No, no, I mean that’s literally what he told me; what he tells anyone from the family who asks, as far as I’m aware.”

Bernard’s eyes move over to the couch again, simply observing for a few seconds before he shrugs. “Well, one night stands don’t exclude a date. Or maybe he’s changed his mind. People are allowed to do that, you know.” he says with an easy grin right as the little round sensor on their table starts vibrating, indicating their order is ready. He snatches the device up and stands, placing a hand on Tim’s shoulder, effectively gaining his attention. “Either way, I don’t think it’s anything for you to lose sleep over. Or any of your business, to be honest. If he is in a relationship and you don’t know, I’m sure he has his reasons.” He grabs the hand Tim has been busy biting the cuticles off of and presses a kiss to his knuckles. “Just let it go, detective.”

With that he’s gone to pick up their drinks, meanwhile Tim almost turns his head to look at the couple again, but ultimately decides against it, instead racking his brain for wether or not any of his other siblings ever mentioned Jason having a partner, but nothing comes to mind. Fingers drumming against the table, he’s one spiraling thought away from getting up and going over there to satisfy the annoying itch of curiosity, but then he watches Bernard walk back towards him, a coffee cup in each hand and a happy smile on his face, his own heart skipping a beat at the sight, and he realizes that his boyfriend’s right. It doesn’t matter right now, nor is it any of his business; if this is someone, important to Jason, he would tell them - in his own time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Okay I had my doubts, but that was pretty good.” Stephanie states as she stretches her arms over her head, following the crowds out of the theater into the big entrance hall. Cass grins and nods enthusiastically in agreement, while Babs only shrugs and hums in thought. “I mean, sure, it was good; solid storytelling, breathtaking visuals, but—“

“I still think the book’s better, though.”

They all know it’s exactly what the redhead was gonna say, but it doesn’t come from her. Even so, the voice is familiar and all three of their heads snap up almost in unison to look for the source.

A joyful laugh, from around the pillar a little ways in front of them, followed by, “That’s the most Jason thing you could’ve said, ya know.”

Now that voice isn’t familiar to any of them, neither is the person who appears in their field of view a second later, hands linked with someone still hidden by the pillar - not that it’s still much of a secret who it is.

“So? It’s still true.”

The soft grin on the stranger’s face morphs into something more mischievous. “Riiight. I’m sure you hated every second of this. That’s why I saw some tears during a scene or two.”

A squeak as the person gets yanked forward, disappearing from sight again; then laughs can be heard accompanied with, “It was dark, you didn’t see shit.”

The three girls exchange glances, all wide eyes and raised brows. Then they watch the couple walk out into the open of the entrance hall, towards the exit, one of Jason’s arm’s wrapped tightly around your shoulders as he presses a kiss to the top of your head.

Cassandra is the first to shake off the stupor, a soft smile spreading across her face. “They’re cute together.” she signs. “Yeeeaaahhh…” Steph starts, staring at the doors the two had just left through. “Too cute. And definitely too familiar to just be a one night stand.” The wicked grin is a telltale sign of trouble and Barbara pinches the bridge of her nose because it doesn’t bode well for anybody.

“Just leave it alone, Steph.”

“Oh come on!” the blonde complains. “He’s the one who’s been telling us for ages that he doesn’t do relationships and now he’s out here all sweet and cozy and lovey dovey with someone? And you’re not the least bit curious? I say we investigate!”

Barbara levels her with a blank stare. “And you don’t think that might be the exact reason he doesn’t tell us anything?” Stephanie narrows her eyes at the redhead in suspicion. It’s unlike her, unlike Oracle, not to want all the details of a situation. “Did you already know?”

“Whatever gives you that idea?”

“Because you know everything. And wouldn’t you—“

Barbara doesn’t let her finish. “Would you want a date to be interrupted by your siblings just cause they feel like annoying you? Pestering you about your partner? Jason isn’t the most open, conversational person at the best of times; what do you think is gonna happen if he catches onto your little investigation?”

Steph is about to argue back that sure, while there’s some personal entertainment value involved, she just doesn’t like the idea of someone she cares about being with someone she doesn’t know. What if they’re not a good person? What if they end up hurting him? What if—

Her thoughts are interrupted by a hand on her shoulder and she turns to find herself looking straight into Cass’ dark eyes, her expression serious.

“They really like him, don’t meddle.” she signs.

That takes some of the wind out of Stephanie’s sails and she visibly deflates a bit. “You, uh… you could tell, huh?” The black haired girl nods eagerly and Steph runs a hand through her hair in contemplation. People are an open book to Cassandra, without her ever having to have exchanged a single word with them. If she says you’re fine, that you truly like Jason and have no bad intentions, then… then Steph could leave it alone with an easy conscience. For now, anyways.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Thank you for the assist, Master Richard, but I assure you, while welcome, it was not necessary.”

“It’s fine, Alfred.” Dick reassures while loading the last of the groceries into the back of the car. “I know you can handle the regular grocery shopping just fine, but it’s rare to have that many people at once at the manor; I’m glad to help out.”

The older man gives him a grateful smile in return, then plucks a piece of paper from inside his coat pocket and checks it over. “Oh dear, I do believe I’ve missed something.” he mumbles and hands the list over to Dick. “Master Richard, would you mind looking our current purchase over again, just in case? I’ll be right back.”

He watches Alfred hurry back towards the store, someone else exiting when he’s a few feet away from the entrance. A short exchange, quick thanks presumably, as the person holds the door open for him. Then you steer left, in his general direction and—

Hold on. He wasn’t here when him and Alfred got outta the store a few minutes ago.

The parking lot is situated lower than the actual store, some stairs to his right leading up to the higher level, so Dick takes a few steps backwards and cranes his neck back slightly, a leafless hedge partly blocking his view, but the tall, broad stature clad in a leather jacket and the black and white hair are a dead give away. He’s about to call out, surely his brother just didn’t spot him yet, but someone beats him to it.

“Okay, let’s go home.”

The person who’d just left the store. Most definitely talking to Jason. And you seem more than a little annoyed and exasperated.

Meanwhile his brother looks like he’s trying not to burst out laughing.

“What?” the mystery person barks, eyes narrowed at the tall man suspiciously.

“I know I did not just watch you whack an old lady over the head with a magazine cause she tried to take the steak from you.”

“It was the last one!” you complain and the tension bleeds from Dick’s shoulders as he realizes that this is in no way a serious altercation. “Besides, Constance had it coming, not the first time she tried to pull a stunt like that; she’s a fucking menace to everybody.”

Silence for a few long seconds. Then, “If you laugh right now, I swear to God I’m leaving you out on the street tonight, Todd.”

Jason snorts. “And then who’s gonna make the food you fought so hard to get? Sure as shit not you; last time I left you alone with the stove, I thought Firefly had broken into the apartment.”

Dick watches his brother’s conversation partner huff, arms crossed over your chest in defiance as you stare Jason down - until your shoulders sag in defeat and you break eye contact, because apparently, he’s right. “You’re lucky you’ve got other talents besides just being pretty, you know that?”

Jason takes the bags from you, met with only mild complaints, as he grins. “You think I’m pretty? Aw, thanks, babe.” You roll your eyes at that, but there’s a smile tugging at the corners of your lips either way. “Leave the corny flirting to Nightwing, it doesn’t suit you.” And Jason actually has the audacity to scrunch up his face in distaste. “Hey now. I was only teasing you; comparing me to him is a straight up insult, take it back.”

“Make me~” you taunt with a sing-song voice and a mirthful smirk, then take off full speed in the opposite direction, past the store, with Jason hot on your heels not a second later.

And Dick hasn’t seen his little brother wear a smile that big in such a long time, he almost forgets to be offended.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Damian isn’t sure why he’s even here. It’s not like this has any actual academic value for him.

That’s Chrysaora fuscescens.

Over there, Hippocampus hippocampus.

And that one’s Anguilla dieffenbachii.

He’s studied all these creatures and more before and even if he wouldn’t learn anything new about aquatic dwellers, his father had insisted on him going on this field trip. Something about a chance to ‘improve his social skills’.

Tt.

If that’s the mission he’d been given, he’d succeed. Even if he thought it utterly unnecessary. At least he could do it in the presence of one of the most beautiful creatures on the planet, the mighty—

“Shark! Jason, look, there it is!”

With the level of excitement, one would think it’s coming from a child, but no, it’s very much an adult, standing in front of the big glass tank, in the company of Todd of all people. Damian slows his steps to a halt, coming from one of the smaller side entrances that lead to the huge room, and simply observes from a safe distance.

“Uh huh, I see it. And I feel like now would be a good time to remind you that you have plenty of shark memorabilia and that we’ll simply be walking past the gift shop later.”

An inelegant snort, as the person side eyes him with amusement. “Would now be a good time to remind you that we both know that’s not happening?”

Jason pinches the bridge of his nose as he heaves a sigh, but Damian detects no true malice in it. He’s seen him truly irritated, angry - this is nothing of the sort. Fond exasperation, if anything.

“I know they’re nowhere near as dangerous as the media likes to make them out to be,” Jason starts, “but I’m still not sure how you can look at something decidedly dangerous, built for killing, and think it’s… cute.”

The look he receives in return is one Damian can’t quite identify and apparently neither can his brother.

“What?”

“Really? You can’t figure that out?” You cross your arms over your chest and cock your head to the side in thought. “Well, I think you should meet my boyfriend, then. Cause ya know, he’s pretty dangerous and rough around the edges, too, and I still think he’s cute.”

Jason mimics your stance as he responds. “Oh, do you now?”

You nod eagerly, grinning ear to ear. “Of course. When he gets up all groggy with a bed head cause he works late? Cute. When he pretends to get annoyed at his best friend cause he called him a silly nickname? Cute. When—“ That’s as far you get, interrupted by your own squeal, as Jason brings one arm around your shoulders to pull you in and smoosh your face against his chest, the other around your waist so you can’t escape. “Yeah, yeah, got it; I think I’ve heard enough about that guy now.”

Meanwhile you’ve managed to gain enough wiggle room to loop your arms around his neck and pull back to look up at him, lopsided, lovesick smile plastered all over your face. “Sorry, I can’t help it sometimes; I love him very much.” And it’s embarrassing, Damian thinks, how fast Jason breaks, all affectionate grin and soft eyes, just because someone is batting their lashes at him. “Well, he’d be a fool not to love you back.”

Damian turns away in disgust right as the couple is about to share a kiss and retreats down the hallway he came from. He’d never taken Todd for a particularly… honorable man, but courting someone he knows to be in a relationship with someone else? That’s a vile breach of trust that he won’t stand for. And, if he bothered to be honest with himself, not something he could actually see Todd engaging in. Despite his many flaws, he’s proven himself a loyal man often enough. But Damian can’t ignore what he heard with his own ears, that would be disregarding incriminating evidence, so he’ll need to have a talk with his father as soon as he gets home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You’re curled up on the couch book in hand when the front door all but flies open, your boyfriend hurrying inside and immediately locking the door behind him again. Before you even get a chance to greet him, he’s speeding through the rest of the apartment, making sure all the windows are shut tight and locked, too. You’ve put the book away, instead staring at him over the back of the couch with raised, quizzical brows when he comes back down the hallway into the living room, finally kicking off his boots at the entrance and hanging up his jacket. Then he beelines for the sofa, lifting up your legs to make room and plop himself down, settling your legs in his lap before he tips his head back and scrubs his hands over his face with a groan.

“Okay, Jay? I need you to talk to me; what kind of apocalypse should I be preparing for here?”

He doesn’t answer for a few long seconds, simply drops his hands from his face, his fingers coming to draw anxious patterns into your thighs instead. “Yeah, we’re totally busted. They know about you now.” And as miserable as he looks, as much as you know that spending time with his family is often draining and challenging for him, you can’t help the relieved laugh that bubbles up out of your throat, because with they way he’d just put your apartment on complete lockdown, you’d been expecting something - or someone - way worse.

Still chuckling, you grab one of his hands and squeeze. “Sweetheart, your family literally consists of detectives. In my opinion, we’re damn lucky to have even made it this long without them knowing.” He sighs, eyes still fixed on the ceiling. “I’m not convinced Babs didn’t know before tonight. That woman knows everything.” While you’ve only heard stories and seen some pictures of the redhead, you have absolutely no trouble believing that. “So what happened, anyways?”

He mulls it over for a moment. “Well, I think it started when Damian tried to have me disowned.” You almost choke on nothing but air, a sound somewhere between a snort, a cough and a laugh leaving you. “Okay, you’ve completely lost me, babe.”

“Honestly, I was mostly just surprised I’m even still in the will.” A not so gentle nudge of your foot, an annoyed whine of his name because sure, you’d play along for now. Let him get the jokes and sass out of his system and pretend that you don’t see that the lazy grin he gives you is forced. That you don’t feel one his feet tapping the floor anxiously. That you don’t notice the way his eyes keep flicking towards the window and the door, like he’s expecting them to be kicked down any second now. “Apparently Damian saw us at the aquarium together and somehow assumed I’m your, uh, your mistress? And thought it dishonorable enough to bring up disowning me because of it.” Admittedly, picturing that elicits a real laugh, one you try to hide, but the next part still comes out as more of a wheeze than anything else. “And he just… what? Brought that up casually over dinner?” Jason shrugs. “Basically. Tried to talk my way outta it, but turns out some of the others saw us together, too, and things just spiraled from there.” It’s quiet for only a moment, then you, very much still intent on helping him distract himself from whatever it is that’s truly eating at him, but mixed with just a tad of entertained curiosity now, hit him with, “Well, yeah, makes sense; you have been getting sloppy.” His head shoots up from the back of the couch so fast you’re afraid his neck might snap and he actually looks offended. “How exactly is this my fault?”

“Come on, Jay. First couple of months of this relationship you wouldn’t even leave the house with me. Now? Grocery shopping, the movies, café dates, the aquarium - we’re barely apart, so it really was only a matter of time till they figured it out.” Rolling his eyes, he slides further down his seat and pouts, fully aware that technically you are correct - doesn’t mean he has to like it. “Great, helpful as ever, darling. And what do you, in your infinite wisdom, suggest we do about this now?” You regard him in silence for a moment: how he fiddles with your fingers, the set of his jaw, the furrow in his brows, the way every muscle in his body seems tense.

“Hey…” you murmur gently, interlacing your fingers. “Why do we have to do anything about this? What are you so worried about? I promise not to bite them when I meet them. Unless you want me to.” Careful prodding, still interlaced with humor - to let him know he can talk to you about it, but only if he wants to. He huffs out a quiet laugh, giving your intertwined hands a squeeze. “You can be such a gremlin sometimes, do you know that?” Bringing a hand to your chest in mock offense, you grin at him. “Oh, you do not get to call me a gremlin when you’re the one who consistently feeds me after midnight and gets me plenty wet.” The following eye brow waggle from your side is what breaks him; a full blown, joyful laugh as he shifts, picking you up and depositing you on his lap sideways, his arms encircling your middle, some of the previous tension visibly leaving his face. “See, that’s the exact kinda shit I don’t need you saying around them, cause I’ll never live that down.” Humming in thought, you get comfortable in your new position, resting your head in the crook of his neck. “Sounds like a you problem, though.” It earns you a playful pinch to your sides that has you batting at his arms and hands to try and get him to stop; a fruitless effort of course, but he eventually settles his hands back on your hips. In turn, you place a hand on his chest, feeling for his heartbeat; most definitely too fast for simply fooling around with and teasing you. He’s not just worried, he’s scared, so you decide the time for games is over. “I’m being serious, though, what’s the matter? This isn’t anything you actually need to be concerned over, is it? It’s really not that big of a deal. So what if they know about me? So what if I eventually meet them now; not like it’s gonna change anything between us.” It’s small and if you didn’t know him as well you did, you probably would’ve missed it or written it off as irrelevant: the way he ever so slightly flinches at the last part.

Bingo.

But you don’t push, you know better. You let him get his thoughts in order, shifting restlessly beneath you while he does and let him answer in his own time.

“It’s stupid…”

“It’s not stupid if it’s bothering you.”

A sigh, then you feel him rest his cheek on the top of your head.

“I dunno. Being around you is always so… easy. Comforting. Being with them isn’t. It’s complicated and it’s messy and overall just exhausting, most of the time. It’s not all bad, just…” He shakes his head slightly, like he’s trying to get rid of an onslaught of memories; good or bad, you’re not entirely sure. “I guess I just don’t want them rubbing off on you, is all.” Pulling back to look at him, you find his eyes elsewhere, anywhere but you, desperate to avoid your scrutiny. “In other words, you’re worried your relationship with them, their opinions of you, are gonna affect mine, right?” He still can’t bring himself to look at you when he mumbles, “Basically…”

You shuffle about until you get your legs back under you, straddling him and cupping his face in your palms, running your thumbs along his cheek bones until he willingly brings his unnaturally green eyes back to yours and you feel like your heart might crack at the uncertainty you find there. “You’re forgetting that, aside from you, I’m probably the most stubborn person in this city; once I’ve made up my mind, it’s hard to change it. If anything, you should be worried about me not shutting the fuck up about how amazing and wonderful you are around them.” He scoffs and tries to turn his head out of your hold, but you refuse to let go and press a quick kiss to the tip of his nose instead, effectively stunning him into obedience. “Uh uh, you’re not going anywhere, I’m not finished yet. I’m on your side, okay? Even if it feels like nobody else is. I’m judging you based on my experiences with you, not theirs. And sure, not everything’s been great; you’re not perfect and neither am I, but that’s human. We live and we learn and we fuck up and then we try again. And I know you try, Jason. Every day, I know you’re trying. Trying to navigate a second life you never asked for. Trying to live in a body that never feels right, no matter how much time passes. Trying to mend the bonds with a family that more often than not still sees the ghost of a boy looking back at them, instead of the man you’ve become. Trying to make things better in this city, so that no one has to go through the same things you did. And nothing your family could say or do or show me is ever gonna change what I see with my own eyes.” He’s been silent this entire time, letting you speak, but you watched his shoulders slump, the tension that’s kept him wound up like a spring finally dissipating, and his own hands are now gently holding onto your wrists.

“And what do you see?”

It’s barely above a whisper, so quiet, you almost miss it despite how close you are.

You don’t have all the answers. You don’t actually know what meeting his family is gonna be like, how it might affect your relationship, but this? Oh, this you can answer just fine.

“A man who’s scarred and deeply flawed, but is still trying to do better, to be better. A man who wants to make up for the mistakes he did make, but sometimes nobody cares to listen. A man who, for all his efforts to appear ruthless, is still the most caring person I know. I see a man who, despite life never having been kind to him, retained a kind soul.”

And with the way he’s looking at you right now? Nothing but wonder and admiration and affection written all over his face? How could you not be sure about what you’re gonna say next? Sure that no one, absolutely no one, would ever be able to change your mind about him.

“I see the love of my life.”

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fandomizer · 2 months ago

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jason todd for a very generous donor via @dcforgaza! i couldn’t help myself when i heard this audio—instantly knew i had to make an animatic lol

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fandomizer · 2 months ago

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· ➳ [WORD STAMP: REPORT]

tim’s only the first to see it because he’s scrolling through all the family files—no, he’s not stalking, thank you very much, it’s called being up to date on very important things like current mission, location, and emergency contacts, stuff like that. it’s very important—someone’s got to check on the mandatory report updates once in a while.

although, honestly, bat files don’t get updated often, but look! jason’s report is bolded to signify that he’s got a new update, and—

huh. what’s that supposed to even mean?

“bruce!” tim hollers, because the man can’t be far, “jason’s fucked with his file again!”

there’s a moment of delay, before the unmistakable pits and pats of bruce’s bare feet on the cave floor draws closer, and soon the man is leaning over the back of tim’s seat in front of bat-computer, squinting at the screen. tim should probably get him booked in with an optometrist sometime soon—the guy’s getting old.

“what? what is it?”

tim frowns, and points at the screen, finger jamming against the surface. “b, do you not see this? what is this emergency contact? does she even exist?”

bruce squints again. tim reevaluates and decides to get an appointment as soon as possible.

the batman is never caught off guard, but bruce wayne is. tim can see the exact moment when bruce registers that jason’s emergency contact is no longer roy harper but some woman who neither of them have ever heard of before. her first name is there, last name blank, and there’s a mobile number for contact. that’s it.

not that having minimal details isn’t typical—honestly, roy’s previous file had only been filled because everything about the man’s life including the minute and second he was born was already in the system. but. this not a name tim recognises.

a letter appears in the last name box. both tim and bruce lean in at the same time.

“oh, shit,” tim breathes.

bruce is fumbling for his phone, hissing quietly as he jigs an injury that he just got last night.

“i’ve never been on the system at the same time jason is,” tim muses, “hey, you think it’s a coincidence that he’s updating his file at nine a.m. in the morning when everyone should be sleeping post-patrol?”

bruce doesn’t answer him, too busy squinting at the screen of his phone. tim grins, pulling his wheelie chair even closer so he doesn’t miss a single thing.

D. the cursor blinks for a while, the red rhythmically flashing into existence and disappearing as jason stops editing the file.

bruce’s call goes into voicemail. he tries again.

“todd,” tim reads aloud, because he’s a little shit and has to hold in a giggle as bruce chokes on thin air. “you think it’s a long-lost cousin or something? they reconnect recently?”

that is scenario six on tim’s list. scenario one includes secret wife, but hey, tim’s been told that he often jumps to conclusions without sufficient evidence, so he just waits patiently as bruce jabs at jason’s contact over and over.

it takes a total of six calls before jason is picking up, hissing, “aren’t you meant to be dead in your bed right now?”

“explain,” bruce demands, leaning in so close to the computer screen that he possibly can’t misread the text. “who is this…new emergency contact?”

there’s a beat. and then jason asks, incredulous, “are you live watching me update this right now?”

bruce grunts, because there’s no response to that. it’s rhetorical question, after all.

“it’s nine a.m.,” jason says, pitch rising, “why are you even up?”

“you’re updating your file for the first time in months,” tim points out. “it’s news worthy of staying up for.”

“you definitely should be in bed,” jason snipes. “what, decided you’d actually turn up to school today?”

“i dropped out,” tim replies, redundantly, because jason definitely knows. he’s just being a bastard.

“jason,” bruce says, very carefully, because bruce always manages to say the most useless stuff but set jason off at the same time, “we just need to know the credibility and background of your contact. it’s of paramount importance that we—”

“credibility? you think i’d put someone down who isn’t trustworthy? that’s how low you think of me?”

tim looks away. bruce’s said something wrong again.

“—know—wait, jason, please, that’s not what i meant and you know—”

“fuck you.” jason’s voice is quiet, and at first, time attributes it to bruce’s inability to put anything on speakerphone, but bruce’s expression has him pausing. typically, jason explodes when bruce does something or says something wrong, but this restraint is new. “fuck you.”

the dial tone rings. bruce clenches, and puts the phone down. he doesn’t try to call jason again.

tim’s pretty bad at shutting up, especially when it’s about stuff that interests him like jason’s new emergency contact, but he knows to shut up now. so instead, he just says, “uh, i’ll keep an eye on the file. you probably should go to bed?”

bruce shakes his head, reaching up to massage his temples. then he pauses, and stares at the screen.

“bruce?” tim prompts.

he points. tim looks back at the screen to see jason’s red cursor on a different part of the file, and his breath hitches when he sees the relationship title of the section. suddenly, both tim and bruce’s faces are plastered to the screen.

“oh, shit,” tim repeats, grin widening.

“master bruce and master tim, what on earth are the two of you doing? shall i call an optometrist to get the two of you checked?”

“yeah, this is a great fuck you,” tim agrees.

“tim,” bruce mutters.

the cursor blinks. then, very deliberately, the file is saved—last manual save: 2s ago in the right corner—and jason’s cursor disappears.

“what in the world is going on here?” alfred demands, heels clicking as he stalks over. “master bruce.”

bruce is buffering. tim just points.

alfred peers. for the first time in a very long time, tim sees his eyebrows raise at the word on the screen.

SPOUSE.

yeah. well. at least tim can say that he found out before dick did.

bonus:

“fucking nosy bastards,” jason grumbles to himself, slamming the laptop shut. “watching me live. what the actual fuck. it’s nine fucking a.m.! mandatory report updates my ass, these ungrateful little—”

“jay?”

jason’s entire demeanour changes. “yeah?”

“there’s a parcel out front,” you wander into the kitchen area, patting his shoulder in greeting as you pass where he’s hunched over the kitchen countertop, “do you mind go getting it?”

“no,” jason says automatically, already standing up. “just one?”

“just one,” you promise. “oh, what were you just talking about just now?”

jason’s eyes flit down to the golden band on your finger. small, discreet. it makes a smile flicker onto his face, and he just shakes his head. he darts around the counter to press a kiss to your temple. “nothing. g’morning, love.”

you laugh, batting him away as he grabs at you. “good morning, jay.”

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fandomizer · 2 months ago

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GUILTY PLEASURES

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

divider by: cafekitsune & omi-resources word count: 1.8k synopsis: You cheat on your boyfriend Jason with the Red Hood a/n: To my anon who requested this hope you liked it! I had to rush through editing so apologies for any grammar errors y'all might find. warnings: 18+ mdni, use of the words whore & slut, a little rough.

Jason Todd had been tailing a weapons deal all night, dressed in full Red Hood gear, helmet and all. The scum he’d come to intercept were already zip-tied and unconscious in the back of a stolen van. Meanwhile, you had told him you were going out with your girlfriends and had stopped texting him about an half hour ago much to his worry, so instead of going home like he planned he decided for Red hood to make a pass by the club you had went to.

Which was why he was leaning against his bike, by the alley across the street watching the people entering and exiting. He straightened up as you stumbled out giggling with your friends and he huffed both annoyed and amused at the sight. You were in the middle of saying something, hands waving animatedly when you suddenly paused at the sight of him.

You said something to your friends before you began staggering towards him.

“Reeeeed!” you sang—sang—as you stumbled closer, high heels clacking on the wet pavement, your dress slightly askew and hair tousled from what looked like a hell of a night out.

Jason froze. “Y/N?”

You beamed, oblivious to his tension. “Youuuu know my name,” you hiccuped, staggering toward him with a grin that could short-circuit every neuron in his brain. “God, its not fair that your voice this hot.”

He coughed, straightening. “You shouldn’t be here. It’s late. And dangerous.”

You only grinned, as you staggered closer hand clutching his arm as you pressed yourself up against him. “Mhmm good thing I have a big bad crime lord to keep an eye on me.”

Jason cleared his throat unsure whether he should be amused or offended that you were flirting with him—well Red Hood.

You, meanwhile, were utterly unbothered.

In fact, you leaned closer, pressing up on your toes like you were about to tell him a state secret. “You know,” you whispered conspiratorially, breath warm against the edge of his helmet, “I think about you. Like… a lot.”

Jason swallowed. “Is that so?”

You giggle. “Mhm hm,” Your wandering fingers begin to trail up under his shirt, smile growing as you felt his muscles tense. “All those hard muscles, that sexy voice, you’re like every bad decision I’ve ever wanted to make all rolled into one.”

Jason sucked in a slow breath, jaw tightening behind the helmet. The feel of your fingers skating up his abdomen sent a jolt through him, and he hated—loved—how easily you could fluster him like this. Especially dressed like that. Especially talking like this.

You took advantage of his frozen state, your grin downright wicked as you nudged him backward, step by step, deeper into the alley’s shadows. His back hit the brick wall with a dull thud, but he didn’t resist. He just watched you, tense beneath the armour, like a predator unsure if he was about to pounce—or be devoured.

Your fingers slipped out from beneath his shirt, nails grazing down his chest plate before trailing lower—lower still—until they flirted with the waistband of his tactical pants.

“Y/N—” His voice was a warning. A plea. A prayer. He wasn’t sure which.

“Just relax, Hood… no one’s gotta know,” you purr, voice velvet-draped sin, your smile all teeth and temptation.

Jason’s jaw clenched, his breath catching as your fingers danced at the edge of his restraint—and his patience. He had fought crime lords, torn through ambushes, taken bullets without blinking…but you? You were something else.

The second your fingers brushed against him, Jason snapped.

In one fluid, furious motion, he spun you, pressing you up against the cold brick wall. His chest pressed hard into your back, the weight of him pinning you effortlessly in place. One gloved hand flattened against your stomach to hold you still, and the alley suddenly felt claustrophobic with heat and tension.

“Is this what you want?” he growled against your ear, voice rough and ragged. “To be bent over in a filthy alley and be taken by a criminal like some cheap whore?”

You let out a soft, breathless noise in answer—needy, aching—and pushed back into him deliberately, rubbing back against him. The sound he made in response was low and guttural, somewhere between a curse and a prayer.

The hand not holding you still began to unbuckle his belt as he unzipped himself just enough to set his throbbing length free. Then he gripped the hem of your dress and shoved it up with no patience at all, his fingers trailing fire against your bare skin. You felt the sharp tug as something tore, heard the hiss of his breath as his hand disappeared into his pocket of his jacket—where he stashed your now-ruined panties like a trophy.

The cold air brushing your exposed pussy had you whining, your voice breaking into a desperate whimper. “Please,” you breathed, unable to hold back. “Please.”

One gloved hand reached for your throat while the other wrapped around his hard length, lining himself up before thrusting into you in one smooth motion. You were dripping wet and offered no resistance as he slid inside you with ease, your eyes rolling back as a low groan rumbled from his chest. He was was so long and thick that he filled up every inch of you.

A loud whine tore past your lips and his hand moved to muffle your mouth as he pulled out. “You gotta be quiet doll, you don’t want everyone hearing me ruin you now do you?”

You tried to say something through his hand, but he chose that exact moment to thrust sharply back into you. Whatever words you had died in a needy moan as your cunt clenched down around his cock. The last of his restraint snapped at the sensation, and he began pounding into you in earnest.

Part of him knew how wrong and fucked up this was—you were technically cheating on him with the Red Hood. But at the same time, he was the Red Hood. So were you really cheating? The complication of it all only made him thrust into you harder, taking you rougher than he usually did.

He might’ve felt guilty—might’ve—if not for how much you seemed to love it. His hand shifted from your mouth, gloved fingers curling at your lips. You didn’t hesitate, taking them in eagerly, sucking around them, gagging and drooling as he pushed them deeper.

“That’s it, doll. Take everything I give you,” he groaned, voice low and cooing—a gentle contrast to the brutal pace of his thrusts. “Such a good girl, lettin’ me use your holes.”

The sounds echoing through the alley were utterly obscene—from the wet squelch of your pussy to the sharp slap of skin on skin, and the broken moans spilling past your lips as you begged for more.

“Mmmf—feels… s’good—fuck…” you mumbled around his fingers, the words wet and barely coherent, spit trailing down your chin where his hand kept your mouth stretched open.

“Look at you… so fucked out on my cock” He groaned, “You’re such a little slut taking it so well.”

The bruising grip around your waist shifted to your clit, his fingers rubbing fast, harsh circles that made your hips jerk as you cried out. But with his cock still buried deep inside you and his strength anchoring you in place, there was nowhere to go—no escape—as he worked you toward your orgasm.

It hit you hard and fast—your head falling back, your entire body tensing before collapsing into trembling aftershocks as stars danced across your vision. He kept pounding you through it, relentless, until he finally followed, burying himself deep as he came with a broken curse, emptying himself inside you.

For a long moment, the only sound that filled the silent alley was the sound of both your heavy, ragged breathing as you both fought to catch your breaths and calm your racing hearts. Your palms pressed flat against the brick wall, still trembling, while his body remained close behind—forehead resting against your shoulder, chest rising and falling against your back in rhythm with your own.

Neither of you spoke. Not at first.

Then, finally, the quiet was broken by the low rasp of Red Hood’s voice, “You know,” he drawled, still breathless, “I don’t think your boyfriend would approve of what we just did.”

You let out a breathless, incredulous laugh, your head tilting back just enough for your eyes to find him over your shoulder. “Oh no,” you murmured with mock concern, “you think he’ll be mad?”

Red Hood huffed as he carefully began to pull out of you, his cum immediately dribbling from your well-used hole. “Well, he certainly won’t approve.”

You turned to look at him, your eyes wide with faux innocence, lashes fluttering like you hadn’t just been thoroughly fucked against a brick wall. “Really?” you said, voice light, teasing—dangerously sweet. “Even after the mind-blowing orgasm we both just had?”

Jason froze. “What.”

You tilted your head, your grin only growing. “I know it’s you, Jason.”

Silence.

He blinked, eyes searching yours, as if he’d misheard. “What… how—”

“Baby,” you cut him off with a laugh, soft and incredulous. “You seriously thought I wouldn’t figure it out?”

Jason just stared at you, lips parting slightly. You could see the moment it fully registered, the sharp shift behind his eyes as his mind caught up.

“You knew this whole time?” he asked, almost in disbelief.

You huffed and rolled your eyes as you tug down your dress. “I wouldn’t cheat on you, Jason. Come on. I’ve known for months. You’re not exactly subtle.”

His mouth opened, but you kept going, voice now edged with affection and amused exasperation. “You leave your gear everywhere. Under the bed? Really? That’s your big secret hiding spot?”

Jason let out a groan and dragged the helmet off his head, revealing sweat-mussed hair and a flushed, stunned expression caught somewhere between impressed, exasperated, and undeniably aroused.

“You are such a menace,” he muttered as he pulled you in, his voice low and full of something torn between amusement and affection.

Your hands came up to cup his face, fingers brushing along his jaw, thumbs stroking gently across flushed skin. His eyes flicked shut at the touch, just for a second—like he couldn’t help but melt into you, even after everything.

“Yeah,” you murmured, a soft smile tugging at your lips, “but I’m your menace.”

Your lips met softly, a gentle contrast to everything that had come before. When you finally pulled away, your expression shifted into something sheepish.

“You’re gonna have to carry me,” you mumbled, still breathless. “I don’t think my legs are working after how hard you fucked me.”

He snorted, the sound low and amused, as he smoothly lifted you into his arms without so much as a grunt of effort. “We still have all night,” he said, glancing at you with a wicked glint in his eye. “And trust me… you won’t be walking properly for a week.”

And with that, he carried you off to his bike, so he could take you back to the apartment to get started on round two.

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fandomizer · 2 months ago

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WHEN LOVE MET WAR

Greek God AU | Reader x Jason Todd

divider by: @cafekitsune & @thecutestgrotto word count: 2k synopsis: The goddess of love. The god of war. A love that even death couldn’t end. a/n: Still working through requests! Work’s been kicking my ass lately, and for some reason, my brain decided to spiral into a Greek mythology mood. A little different from my usual writing and sorry if it feels rushed.

On the marble steps of your rose-draped temple, you the goddess of love stood still as stone, watching the sun bleed across the sky. It set in streaks of gold and crimson—colours that once reminded you of warmth, of flushed cheeks and tangled limbs, of whispered promises spoken beneath starlight. Now, they only reminded you of blood. Of his blood.

Jason.

The name still ached when it crossed your thoughts, still clung to the edges of your immortal heart like the scent of a dying flower. Jason, the mortal born so beautiful even the gods were jealous. Jason, whose laugh rang like bells in your ears. Jason, who looked at you not with awe, but affection. Not like a deity, but a woman.

The two of you had danced in fields of lavender, lay beneath silken skies, whispered secrets into each other’s skin. you, divine and eternal. He, gloriously human. And though you both knew the tragedy of that pairing, you dared to hope. Dared to love. For he was promised by the head of the pantheon, Bruce the God of night and Justice that he would be ascended to godhood.

But mortals die. Even beautiful ones.

Before he could be ascended, he fell—brutally beaten and cut down by a jealous god who dared believe that, in his absence, you might turn your affections elsewhere—you wept until rivers rose and gardens withered. The earth mourned with you, the skies dulling to ash, as though the heavens themselves recognized the injustice of his death.

The other gods whispered that you’d gone mad. That you were foolish to mourn so deeply for a mortal man.

But none of them had known Jason like you had.

The centuries passed like mist—soft, aimless, unbearably hollow. No touch warmed your skin. No glance stirred your spirit. No heart called to your’s the way his once had.

And for that arrogant god who thought you so fickle, so shallow, as to discard the truest love you had ever known…You made him pay for his foolishness.

Death, you decided, was far too kind. Instead, you wanted him to suffer eternal torment and cursed him with a mania so strong he would never know peace. Never to know what the warmth of love would feel like yet forever aching for it, forcing him to search for it like a man in a desert parched for water.

He burned offerings at temples you never visited. Tore open his own chest seeking your favour. Begged the stars, the sea, the wind—to return what he had destroyed.

But love had turned its back on him.

Because he had defiled it.

His passion became prison. His desire, disease. And you watched from afar—silent, unblinking—as mania bloomed like a vine around his soul and slowly choking away the god he once was because compared to you, he was nothing. Seldom was a force stronger than love and he scorned the very embodiment of it.

No god dared to go against your punishment. The gods, in all their hubris, had all forgotten that love and war were not so different. Passion. Devotion. Ruin. Your soft beauty and lilting laughter had made them forget that beneath the silks and sweetness, you too were considered to be apart of the deities of war. Just as capable of wrath as you were of love. Your's was the battlefield of hearts, and you had long since learned that love—real love—was worth waging war over.

Yet, no amount of vengeance could fill the hole left in your heart, forcing centuries you grieved. Because even with your enemy broken, it did not bring him back.

Jason was gone.

Your temples faded into shadow. The world moved on, colder now, more empty. You wandered through centuries draped in sorrow, a goddess without purpose. Love came and went in mortals like tides against the shore—brief, fleeting, insubstantial.

Until one day, the earth rumbled with a new name.

The mortals whispered it in fear. One unlike the other gods. A scarred brute, they said, who neither sought glory nor revelled in carnage for sport. He did not charge into battle for honour or conquest. He moved like a storm driven only by rage and something darker—revenge.

They said he was mad. That vengeance had hollowed him out and filled the void with fury.

It was in the smoke-choked ruins of a battlefield—where the sky split with thunder and the ground ran slick with blood—that the gods gathered. They came not with swords drawn, but with questions. To see for themselves the new god born of vengeance and death. To witness if he would be friend or foe. To determine whether he was to be welcomed… or destroyed.

And then he stepped through the haze.

You staggered.

Your breath left you.

Because it was him.

Jason.

But not the Jason you had known—not the boy who pressed wildflowers into your hands or traced constellations across your bare skin with laughter in his eyes. That boy had been soft in the ways only mortals could be. He had lived with wonder in his heart and warmth in his touch.

That boy was gone.

Death had stripped him bare. It had carved the softness from his bones and replaced it with steel. It had turned his heart into something fiery and full of anger. Whatever mercy had once dwelled in him had long since been buried beneath the weight of pain.

He had been reborn in divine fire, not as the son of justice he was meant to become, but as something else entirely—something terrible, something untouchable. The boy you had loved was now a deity of war, the God of Death and Vengeance.

He hadn’t remembered his past at first. Not fully. Dreams came in shards—flashes of golden fields, of laughter and soft hands, of a voice that called his name with devotion. Yet, the sight of you brought forth more of the shattered remains of what life he once had lived.

You whispered his name, no louder than a breath, the one word filled with shock and reverence. The gods fell silent. None dared speak as you stepped forward—toward the once-mortal, the boy who had been your undoing, the man death had remade. You didn’t wait. Didn’t care what it meant or how he came to be.

You crossed the blood-soaked earth barefoot, unflinching. The ruin of war clung to your feet, but you moved as if drawn by fate, as if the threads of your soul had never stopped pulling toward his.

Your gaze devoured him, taking in the new divine version of him. Your hand lifted, trembling, and you pressed your palm to his cheek. He was taller now. Armoured. Broad-shouldered and blood-streaked, his golden skin was no longer unmarked—burns curled along one arm trailing up to his neck, a jagged scar traced up from cheek to brow, and his once-gentle mouth was a hard, unsmiling line. His eyes, once the soft shade of summer storms, now burned like steel in winter.

His jaw tightened beneath your touch.

Among the gathering of gods stood four figures, two of which who had once considered Jason as family.

At the forefront stood Bruce cloaked in shadows and silence. His face betrayed nothing, but the air around him felt taut, like a bow pulled too tight. He had not spoken since Jason stepped through the smoke. He only watched.

It was said Bruce had found Jason in the ruins of a battlefield long ago—an orphaned mortal with enough fire, he dared to steal the wheels of Bruce’s midnight chariot. It was this fire that made Bruce choose to raise him as his own bringing him to Olympus where he eventually met and fell in love with you.

Dick, Bruce’s eldest son, the god of light and duality, also once a mortal ascended to godhood stared at Jason with a gaze was bright with disbelief.

Beside him stood Tim, god of foresight and knowledge, lips pressed thin. His brilliant mind, always quick to calculate, struggled now to reconcile the impossible. His eyes flicked between Jason, you, Bruce, and Dick as if trying to read a history long before his time.

And then there was Damian, youngest and most volatile—god of wrath and beasts. His green eyes narrowed, not in malice, but suspicion. Like Tim, he had never truly known Jason. Not the boy with a crooked smile or the mortal brother with a quick temper and a quicker wit. Jason existed to him only in fragments—in stories passed down in whispers.

And the figure standing before him was no story.

This was the god who ravaged lands, who left cities smouldering in his wake, who painted rivers red with blood. The war-born storm whose fury bent steel and scattered armies.

Not one of them said a word. Because in that moment, they knew, only you would be able to reach him.

“I thought I’d lost you,” you whispered, your thumb brushing gently over the jagged scar that marred his cheek like a bolt of lightning etched into flesh. “He took you from me.”

“He did,” Jason rasped, voice low and raw, torn from somewhere deep inside him. “That man you remember… he’s dead. I remember little of him—just flashes. But one thing has never left me…” His gaze darkened, steel-hard. “…I want the head of the god who killed me.”

You didn’t hesitate.

“He’s yours, if you want him,” you said, voice calm, almost casual in its finality. “Though I already ensured he would suffer eternally for the pain he caused you and I.”

Jason’s eyes slid past your shoulder, lingering on the looming figure of Bruce—the god of night and justice—his divine father. There was a flicker of something in Jason’s gaze, some buried expectation, as if Bruce might protest or claim otherwise.

But Bruce said nothing.

Only his jaw clenched, ever so slightly, as he looked away.

Jason’s focus returned to you. “You would give him to me so freely?”

“I would rip out his heart and place it in your hands if that is what you wished,” you answered without pause, your voice low, unshaking. “I would die for you. I would give you anything you desire.”

Something shifted behind his eyes. A storm, held back for centuries, calmed at the edge. Never would it be fully gone but something about your presence was stilling it. And in that moment, with war’s fire in his blood and your hand on his face, Jason realized one thing. He had been reborn not just by rage, not only by death—but by the echo of a love so powerful, it had called him back from the ashes.

His expression cracked. Just barely. A flicker of the man he had been.

“The man you once knew is gone,” he said quietly.

You lifted your chin, defiantly, beautifully. “Then I’ll love what rose in his place.”

His eyes flickered, but his tone remained cold. “I’m not gentle anymore,” he warned, voice darker now, coiled tight with the weight of all he’d become. “I don’t feel softness. I don’t remember how to be… that.”

“Then be war itself,” you said fiercely, “I’ll still love you.”

Because while you had loved him at his most radiant, this version, forged through pain and fury, was no less worthy. He was not the same—but neither were you. Love had never asked for perfection. Only truth.

His hands—bloodstained, trembling—rose slowly, hesitantly, as though he feared you were a mirage. He caught your wrists, holding them with reverence, with desperation. Then his forehead touched yours, and in that simple gesture, something ancient and sacred passed between you. Something that neither time nor death had managed to sever.

A goddess born of love.

A god reborn of war.

And in his arms, when he finally pulled you close, the goddess of love found her heart again—not in beauty, not in peace, but in ruin and rage, in the bloodied hands of war itself.

They had taken him from you once.

But not again.

You had crossed eternity to mourn him.

Now, you would cross it again to stand beside him.

Because whether mortal or divine, broken or whole, he was still yours.

And you were still his.

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fandomizer · 2 months ago

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🪶love showers🪶

Jason Todd x gn!reader

Warnings: None this is just fluff. Get your mind out of the gutter🫩

🪶🪶🪶

Jason loves to shower with you.

He’s not ashamed to follow you from behind, until you two reach the doorway. He pauses and you spin around furrowing your eyebrows.

“Babe what’s wrong? I told you that you can join me.” The sound of confusion is obvious in your voice as you look up at your very tall boyfriend. Though, he’s looking very small in this moment.

“Yeah?” He asks quietly, like if he said it any loud it would smack some sense into you to say no.

Jason has never held back his love. He’d shout it from Gotham roofs if he could. That would definitely attract unwanted attention with the red hood screaming someone’s name and all. Instead, he cooks you all the food you ask for. Smothers you in all the kisses he has time for and tells you that you look absolutely beautiful just being you. He loves you. Most ardently.

However, when you love him back, pauses. It fills him with a sense of confusion and joy. He always wonders how someone as perfect as you would show him love in return. He would say he’ll wonder this till the day he dies, but he already did that.

You giggle and grab his shirt to bring him into a soft kiss. “You’re such a dork.” Turning away from him you begin to shed your clothes. You’ve never been shy about your body in front of him.

He laughs as he begins to shed his. “Yeah I figured you’d want company.” He teases.

The two of you step inside, letting the hot water cover you both. Well…try. Though that does matter because the minute you both step foot he has his arms wrapped around you instantly. The feel of your skin on his is a feeling like no other. He feels alive. The warmth of the water has nothing on you.

After a few moments he reaches behind you to grab the shampoo. He squeezes a whole lot more than you use and starts scrubbing your scalp. It feels like he’s shampooing a dog, though this makes you laugh. Your head starts bopping in different directions. “Jason calm down.” You say in between laughs.

You laughing makes him laugh as he switches sides with you so now you’re under the water. He leans your head back and wipes the shampoo away, this time a bit gentler.

“You’re so beautiful.” He says softly.

He beckons your head out of the water with his hands. You can’t help but lean toward him and kiss him. Deep and passionate just like him. You both stay like this. Caressing each other. Basking in each other’s presence. It might be his favorite thing to do with you.

You two eventually washed up and got out of the shower. You always tell him that you can dry yourself, but he insists on doing it. He brushes your hair and grabs one of his shirts for you to sleep in. He just can’t help himself when it comes to you.

He lays with you in bed before he has to go. A few more kisses and then he’ll leave. No. A few more cuddles and then he’ll leave.

“Did I mention you’re beautiful? You wanna date?” You laugh and slightly smack him on the chest. “Is that a no?” He asks again, smiling as you.

You simply shake your head while smiling back. He showers you with a few more kisses and then he’s out the door.

He cant wait for your morning shower.

🪶🪶🪶

Note: Just some simple Jason Todd fluff cause why not. I have so many scenarios in my brain, both smutty and fluffy, but this one won the battle. It’s not much but damn eat yo food😭I love shower fluff cause I find it so wholesome. I love when characters bask in each others presence and just love on each other. Idk if I wrote Jason good with the dialogue but I get that insecurity about dialogue allllll the fuuucking time🫩 it’s why I took so long creating a writing blog…

Also also the teasing is lowkey inspired by my partner they’re always asking me if we should date LOL!! Anyway I hope you are all are having a wonderful day/night! You are worth it🫶🏻

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fandomizer · 2 months ago

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⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ ୨ ♡ ୧ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ ꒰ imagine #02 ꒱

✉️ . — ꒰ contents ꒱ jason todd x fem reader, angst, comfort, established relationship, around 700 words. after finding an old photo album, you visit relics from your boyfriend’s past. reader cries lol.

✉️ . — ꒰ full masterlist ꒱ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ ୨ ♡ ୧ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

For a moment, it felt as though his bright smile was warming you up. The harsh snow outside loudly rattling against the window pane only added to the nostalgic, serenely peaceful atmosphere— one that was no doubt also present in the snapshot; Jason ported his blond cape, black mask, and signature red and green costume. One of his gloves was extended towards his head, hand splaying across his black hair in a playful manner.

Your boyfriend pulled you a scooch closer, leaning himself down further to get a better look at the now, long forgotten memory. “Fuck, I was a a scrawny little shit back then, wasn’t I?” He commented.

You only let out a small chuckle, intern leaning yourself into his side. Sensing you shiver, presumably from the cold, Jay’s hand involuntarily stroked your side in attempt to keep you mellow. “You were so cute.” You quip back, eyebrows furrowing ever so slightly.

You weren’t even sure where Jason had found this, let alone why it was laying around in your not-quite-but-practically shared apartment. You were one of the first, hell, one of the only people Jason was comfortable openly showing this too. A couple months ago when he had admitted everything regarding his past, about how he had died, how he had been beaten to a bloody pulp, how he had choked on splinters and dirt whilst slowly emerging from his own grave… He thought you’d leave.

The man was sure of it.

But, no. It became impendingly clear after you stayed that this was different— you were a whole different type of love, one that Jason had longed for in favor of ages just to get the sliver of a taste. He could trust you with just about everything, so now, looking through an old photo album was nothing grand. “Hah. Look at that one.”

Turning the laminated paper onto it’s next page, a following series of photographs come into view. There was one of Wayne mannor, one of Bruce and Alfred, and yet another of Jason. This time, he wasn’t adorn in the Robin costume, seemingly unaware a photo was even being taken in the first place. Had Bruce filmed this? Maybe Alfred? You weren’t quite sure.

A much younger Jason was propped up against numerous cushions, sitting underneath a large window sill, nose-deep in some novel. Your boyfriend only lets out another snort, before a soft, reluctant smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “God, I remeber that one. The ending was fuckin’ terrible.”

He was zoned out, too immersed in the amiable atmosphere with his girl to even realize you were upset, until the still sound of a small sniffle hits his ears. “Babe?” Jay calls, looking over, only to see a host of tears streaming down your red cheeks. “Oh- Babe-“

“I’m sorry…” You whisper, hands quickly betraying the book to instead come up and cover your face. Jason didn’t waste any time before slipping his arms around your waist, pulling you into a much-needed hug. A fresh gust of snow whirled outside, a hushed whisper and a series of gentle thuds apprehended. The weather only prompted you to nuzzle your face into his chest, reluctantly pulling your hands away from your front.

“You okay, honey…?” He says after what felt like a full minute of holding you in his arms, biting the inside of his cheek. Jason was never very good with the prospect of comforting people, but he tried, he really did, especially when it came to you. “No, no, it’s okay… I just- You were so young. You were such a cute kid.” You try to relive some of the tension in the atmosphere with a tiny chuckle, pulling back from your boyfriend to instead gaze at his eyes. They were warmer, now, more inviting.

His calloused hands slip into yours, rubbing his thumb over your palm in a soothing manner. “I wouldn’t trade anything in the world for the life I have now, yeah…? All that shit brought me to you. M’ grateful for it.”

All you do his nod, biting your bottom lip. What he said was true. You loved all versions of Jason; past, present, and future. Whatever happened in days of old may have left horrid scars, burning memories… but everything led to the present climate. Sitting in your small apartment as the first snowstorm of the year hit Gotham.

He pulls you into another homely cuddle. Maybe this was where you two were meant to be. Together.

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fandomizer · 2 months ago

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TOUCH

Summary: Jason likes it when you touch him. You're hands are warm.

Requested: No

Warnings: None

Female reader

Jason likes it when you hold him.

When you touch him it makes him feel warm. Soft in a way he's never really felt before. He finds himself seeking it out most of the time.

His hands settling on the dip of your waist, leaning into the deftness of your fingers toying with his hair were common, everyday things.

It made him feel fuzzy, and he couldn't help the way he'd relax into you like a lazy cat, kissing the tips of his fingers like he was thanking you for the warmth they brought.

It was raining today, the sky was blocked out by the dark clouds, and towering buildings. The streets slick with the pouring water left the pair of you tucked into each other comfortably.

Jason has his hand pressed against the mid of of your back as you rested your head against his chest, tracing slow soft patterns into the fabric of his shirt.

He looks down at you, examining the way the lamp light shadowed over your delicate features. The ones he loved to admire so. Adored to the core of his being.

His free hand comes up to trace the line of your jaw, drawing your attention.

"Hm?" You hum softly in question, and he gives you a squeeze, kissing the tip of your nose with a small smile.

"You're so pretty, you know that?" Jason remarks, pecking you on the lips.

You chuckle softly, chasing his lips for another kiss, "I'd argue you're the prettiest." you tease.

"Oh yeah?" Jason says amusedly, nuzzling into your neck contentedly, the scent of your perfume a familiar comfort, "I dunno, baby... That seems like a bit of a stretch, but if you insist..."

"That tickles, Jason." You huff with a soft laugh, shifting to sit up, only for Jason to squish you back against his chest.

He shakes his head, his eyes fluttering closed as he holds you close like a teddy bear, "Baby, don't get up." He sighs, wrapping both his arms around your waist, "I'll be so lonely. I'll freeze to death or something."

"Jay, it is not that cold in here. You're not going to freeze." You remark, rolling your eyes at his petulant whining, "I'm hungry, I wanna make a sandwich."

Jason shakes his head, keeping you tucked against him, "Starve."

"That's not very nice." You whisper, noticing the heavier rise and fall of his chest as he dozes comfortably.

In this moment Jason was content, with you close, and comfortable and warm on top of him. God, you made him soft. Just one look at your face made him soft.

"I'll make you something later." Jason huffs, squeezing you tightly, "Let's just nap for a while."

"Promise?" You hum, kissing along his cheekbone with an amused smile.

"Anything for you, sweetheart." Jason whispers back, bringing your hand up to press a kiss to your knuckles, then your palm, your wrist, and up until he gives you a proper kiss.

"I love you." You say sweetly, smiling against his lips.

"I love you too, baby." Jason says quietly. And he did. With his heart and soul he adores you.

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fandomizer · 2 months ago

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MY BABY'S ALL MINE

Summary: Jason Todd is absolutely smitten with you.

Requested: No

Warnings: ...

Female reader

An angel sent to grant him the mercy of love. That's what Jason saw when he looked at you. Your hair framed your face like the halo of a divine being, shining in the morning light.

As he layed next to you in your shared bed, his gaze soft and adoring as he examined the tender lines of your face, he couldn't help the smile that pulled across his face.

His arm was tossed loosely over your middle, his thumb tracing tender patterns into your hip as the sunlight spilled over your face.

How could he do anything but love you?

God, he adored you. He adored everything you were.

And everything you were was all for him.

He presses a series of soft, light kisses to your cheek, down your jawline and across you neck, the action stirring you from your sleep.

"Goodmorning, beautiful." He whispers, nuzzling his face into your hair with a soft sigh, "Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you up."

"S' okay." You reply with a yawn, rolling over to rest your head against his chest, "What time is it?"

"7:30." He replies.

You groan loudly and dramatically, "Baby, it's too early..."

"It is not. What? Do you want to sleep in until noon?" Jason chuckles, rubbing your back soothingly, "C'mon, sweetheart. I'll make you breakfast... Whatever you want.."

You peak an eye open at the promise of food, a grin pulling at your lips, "Whatever I want?"

"Mhm. Anything for you." He replies lovingly, and he meant it. He'd do anything to see that smile. Anything. He didn't care how pathetic it made him look, or how weak people thought it made him. He'd do anything for you.

"I want, waffles, and bacon, and eggs." You say, sitting up with a stretch, "Pretty please, baby?"

"Sure, sweetheart." Jason says, pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek. "Why don't you go take a shower? I'll make you breakfast."

"You're the best, Jay."

"I try."

Guess whos back. Back again.

You people will have to pry yearner jason from my COLD. DEAD. HANDS.

HE'S PERFECT

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fandomizer · 2 months ago

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imagine being the eldest daughter of king bruce wayne of sparta.

your birth was a celebration—born in the capital of sparta, gotham. a celestial event marked by meteors streaking across the night sky, the temple oracles claiming aphrodite herself had kissed your forehead. the people of gotham called you the beauty of sparta, the jewel of the kingdom, beloved and adored. wherever you walked, petals followed. your voice could calm storms, your laughter brought crops to bloom.

they said you were the most beautiful woman in all the known world. not just for your face, but for your soul.

you were crowned young—not queen, but heir. gifted silks from the east, bathed in oils from the west, your flower crown delicate, hand-woven, adorned daily eventually turned into the very crest of your line: golden, regal, with wings shaped like a bat’s.

your father, bruce, once the mightiest of warriors, was no longer just a king, he was a member of the justice league, a sacred order of the greatest kings and queens from far-flung kingdoms: queen diana of themyscira, king arthur of the seas, king clark of krypton.

and so, when war threatened the world of men, your father left.

his duty, he said.

his vow, he whispered to you, with hands rough from battle gently cupping your face.

he kissed your forehead and left his crown in your hands.

you were eighteen. and alone.

your brothers were far from home. dick, your eldest, married off to queen koriand’r of tamaran, ruling beside her as prince consort, his heart gentle, his strength unmatched. tim, off to claim the lands his mother’s bloodline had left behind, sharp as steel and silent as shadow.

and then there was damian.

your baby brother. your sun. only three, then. a prince born from war, too young to know pain, too precious to be left behind. his mother talia, led another kingdom far from sparta, closest to the underworld with her father, the catalyst of it all, a diplomatic mission ended in an affair creating your little brother.

so you became his world. mother. sister. queen. all in one breath. raising him to become a good man, to be a warrior of the mind, to become a future king that would lead this kingdom, so that when there’s a problem, he’d know the answer.

you ruled. you taught. you smiled when the suitors came knocking, their hands heavy with gold and promises.

but your heart was never theirs to take.

because it already belonged to a boy named jason.

jason todd. born of nothing. son of no name.

he was a street thief when your father first saw him. no older than seven, wrenching iron from the king’s own carriage. and instead of condemning him, your father knelt and offered him bread.

a few days turned into years.

and suddenly jason was training beside your brothers.

a commoner raised among royalty.

he was rough-edged, wild-eyed. but with you? he was quiet. soft.

you shared your books with him. your secret garden. your laughter.

and slowly, without ever saying it aloud, he became yours.

your sworn knight. your protector. your secret love.

when war came calling, jason answered it, like your father. like your brothers.

he left you with a ring. his mother’s. a simple iron band tied to a chain.

“i’ll come back to you,” he said. “as soon as the war’s won.”

and so, you ruled the kingdom alone.

with alfred by your side—loyal, aged, kind and damian growing stronger by the day, sparta stood firm under your hand.

you were a just queen. a fair ruler. your people loved you.

but love… love brought danger, too.

adonis. a name that once meant nothing, a boy you and jason once called friend.

he came from foreign lands, noble-born, clever, charming… at first. he arrived in your nation in hopes that your father would take him under his wing & was deeply upset when he favored jason over him. and so, resentment grew as he is stuck in a nation he wasn’t familiar with.

and obsession wears many masks.

you noticed it slowly. the way he watched you. the way he lingered. the way he hated jason, though he never said it aloud.

and when you rejected every suitor, when your hand remained untouched by any other… he snapped.

as the years have gone by, you grew older, and so whispers started..

so you issued a challenge.

if any man wished to marry the queen, he would first have to survive your father’s training.

the very same trials he put his sons through. brutal. legendary.

they all tried.

and they all failed.

and still, they whispered. schemed. turned bitter.

until one night.. under cover of darkness, they took you.

adonis and his men.

your guards slaughtered. your room desecrated.

your crown stolen. your song silenced.

you vanished. like helen took paris. taken from your homeland.

you were stolen.

your brother, damian, who went on a diplomatic to his mother, returned to find the palace desecrated, sacked like troy. the throne room bloodstained and cold.

your crown lay shattered at the foot of the dais.

alfred trembled.

the wind itself seemed to scream your name.

your family came home.

imagine the way the skies darken the moment they return, like the gods themselves turn their eyes toward the house of Wayne.

lightning cracks across the heavens as bruce wayne, king of sparta, steps foot onto the marble steps of his palace—no longer pristine white, but blackened with soot, dusted with blood. his eyes are hollower than they were ten years ago, but something sparks behind them once he sees the flowers on your windowsill wilted and untouched. your crown missing from its shrine. your song no longer sung.

his hands curl into fists. the silence is deafening.

and then alfred speaks. voice brittle, spine bowed, like a pillar finally cracking under the weight of guilt.

“they took her, sire.”

imagine damian, only thirteen, but already with fury in his blood and shadows in his step. they call him the prince of blades, forged by grief, raised by a sister he called mother, queen, home. he stares at the blood trail left on the throne room floor, jaw clenched, sword unsheathed.

“i will kill them,” he says, not for the first time.

tim looks at him, older now, calm but coiled like a storm. the quietest of the brothers, always watching. but it’s always tim who pieces together the web, who finds the threads and tightens the noose.

dick says nothing. not at first. not until he places a hand on damian’s shoulder and kneels beside the throne. the place where you sat. the place where you ruled in his absence. his little sister — now the memory of silk gowns and flower crowns, gone.

“we will bring her home.”

imagine jason.

he does not speak when he returns. not until he sees your favorite garden torn apart. not until he finds the necklace he gave you, your engagement ring, abandoned, cracked, lying atop a shattered vase.

he picks it up with shaking hands.

and then the fire returns. the same fire he had when he was a street boy, teeth bared to the world. the same fire you soothed with soft words and pressed palms.

but you’re not here to calm him now.

“give me a name,” he says.

“adonis,” alfred tells him. “adonis of corinth.”

a prince-turned-madman. jason remembers him. remembers the way he lingered too long near your presence. the way you always brushed off his stares, turning instead to jason with that smile of yours.

and now—

he sharpens his blades. dons his armor. not the polished steel of royalty, but the blood-red of vengeance. every inch of him screams wrath. he was born in fire. raised in battle. and now the world will burn for you.

imagine the house of wayne. scorned, grief-stricken, angry.

bruce, summoning the remnants of the justice league, now fractured and tired but still loyal to him. old gods rising from the ashes of old wars.

dick and tim, uniting their kingdoms. tamaran’s fire and the drake family’s might, standing behind the black banners of gotham.

damian, leading the war scouts, sending ravens to the underworld if he must.

and jason, who doesn’t speak of what you were to him, only acts. only kills. only carves his promise into the battlefield, etched with every enemy slain.

while you, the queen in chains, sat on a throne not yours, in a palace that did not know your name as they try to break you. you do not break. you did not scream. you did not weep. you waited.

because you knew that your family will come back for you with fire & blood.

history is laid out right in front of us to never repeat, we have seen this tale before. a beauty taken. a kingdom defiled. a thousand ships launched. a city, burning. but we, humans, remain blind - our pride louder than our memory.

we forget. or worse—believe we can rewrite fate.

and the gods flip a coin to see how this tale will end this time.

(inspired by the iliad, greek mythology & epic the musical so i bought the song of achilles & it brought me back to my greek myth/epic the musical hyperfixation. aaa this has been in my mind for months now & only got to finalize it this time after multiple drafts 😭 anywayss i’m gonna sleep now school’s back tomorrow, hope u enjoyed <3)

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fandomizer · 2 months ago

Text

The Things You Say

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Summary: Jason yearning for a nerdy girl who constantly talks about her new books or new science inventions, he doesn't understand shit and they have to look stuff up constantly trying to keep up with her

requests are open

dividers by @cafekitsune

Jason knew pain. He knew the taste of blood and the sound of a heart flatlining. He knew what it was like to dig his way out of a grave with his bare hands, lungs full of dirt and rage. He knew war. Loss. Fire.

But none of that prepared him for the experience of falling for someone like you.

He also knew two things for certain:

One: he was not, and never would be, a science guy.

Two: he was completely, helplessly in love with the weird girl who never stopped talking about subatomic particles like they were fairy tales.

He met her in a bookstore, because of course he did. Gotham’s oldest secondhand shop, tucked between a closed-down deli and a tattoo parlor. She was in the nonfiction aisle, holding a hardcover titled Quantum Entanglement and the Fabric of the Cosmos, murmuring to herself while frowning at the margins.

Jason should’ve walked away. Should’ve grabbed his Hemingway and gone.

But instead he found himself saying, “Is that English?”

She looked up.

Big glasses. Hair half-up, half-falling. A tiny scowl, like he’d just insulted her childhood dog. “It’s physics.”

He blinked. “I gathered. Still looks like math’s evil cousin.”

That got a laugh. Or something like it. A half-smile, crooked and unsure, like she didn’t laugh often and wasn’t sure she should now.

Jason tilted his head. “You work with this stuff?”

“I study it.” She pushed the book against her chest. “I’m trying to understand quantum coherence in biological systems. Mostly theoretical. I bore people.”

“I don’t mind theory,” Jason said, which was a lie, but a nice one.

She stared at him for a long second. “You’re trying to flirt with me.”

“Yeah,” he admitted. “How am I doing?”

“Terribly.”

He grinned. “You want coffee?”

She hesitated.

“Not a date,” he added quickly. “Just... if you want someone to listen while you explain quantum thingies.”

“Quantum thingies,” she repeated. “Tempting.”

It was supposed to be one coffee. It turned into four. Then dinner. Then late-night texts, where she sent him screenshots of new studies and he replied with bad memes and pictures of books she’d made him read.

Jason wasn’t used to this—whatever this was. There was no game here. No dramatics. Just this girl with a constellation of freckles and a mouth that moved too fast when she got excited.

She’d sit cross-legged on his couch, hair up, socks mismatched, spouting things like:

“Did you know cephalopods can edit their own RNA in real time?”

Jason, who was halfway through re-reading The Count of Monte Cristo, would look up and go, “Cepha-what?”

“Octopus brains. They’re insane.”

He had a notes app. No joke. It read:

Quarks (ask which one is the cute one)

Octopus RNA = science magic

Don’t say atoms are tiny planets—she hates that

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to understand. He did. Desperately. Because her eyes lit up like stars when she talked, and Jason wanted to know what it was like to hold a universe like that in his head.

Because you talked about neutrinos over coffee. Neutrinos. Subatomic particles. And you said it with a smile like it was common small talk, like most people spent Sunday mornings curled up reading quantum mechanics papers instead of the funnies.

Jason pretended to get it. He even nodded sagely.

He did not get it.

"They're fascinating," you said once, feet tucked under you on his old beat-up couch, eyes lit like they held galaxies. "Like these ghosts of matter. They pass through everything, almost impossible to catch. It's like trying to bottle a secret."

"Uh-huh," Jason said, staring at your lips. Not because he was being disrespectful. But because they moved when you talked, and sometimes he understood those more than your words.

He googled them later. Spent two hours falling down a scientific rabbit hole so steep he got a headache, just so he could maybe ask the right question next time. So he could deserve to be in the same room as your mind.

You never made him feel stupid.

You never made him feel like he had to prove himself. But Jason was built of sharp edges and pride. He came from alleys, from blood-streaked streets and textbooks that were ten years too late. You were made of stardust and curiosity, of words that leapt like fire from your tongue.

He wanted to meet you there.

So he read. And re-read. Fell asleep listening to science podcasts he barely understood. Texted Tim questions like, “What the hell is a muon?” and got responses like, “Why are you asking me this at 2AM?”

You were working on something new. Something about microfluidics, which sounded made-up but wasn't. Your whiteboard was filled with squiggles and Greek letters, and Jason stood behind you one afternoon just... watching.

"You know," he said finally, leaning a shoulder against your wall, "I'm starting to think you might be the smart one in this relationship."

You turned, brow quirked. "Only just starting?"

Jason laughed. It cracked something open in him. "You know what I mean."

"I do," you said, crossing to him. You had ink on your fingers. Pen behind your ear. Your shirt was inside out. Jason thought you were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. "But I'm not in love with me. You are."

He blinked.

You kissed his cheek, then went back to your board, humming. As if you hadn't just sent his soul straight out of his body.

Jason spent that night learning about laminar flow.

Sometimes, you talked so fast you forgot to breathe. You’d get this wild look in your eyes, like the whole universe was cracking open and only you could see it.

Jason lived for that look.

You told him about CRISPR once, gesturing wildly with a fork in a shitty diner, eggs going cold.

"It’s gene editing," you said. "Like molecular scissors! You can cut DNA—literally edit life. Isn’t that insane?"

Jason chewed his toast. Nodded. Took a mental note to google "molecular scissors" the second you hit the bathroom.

He didn’t get it. Not really.

But he loved how your face lit up. Like discovering was your religion and you were halfway to ascension.

He wanted to believe in something like that.

The problem, of course, was that he kept falling harder.

It hit him slow at first—like rain soaking into the collar of your coat. He’d look up in the middle of a lecture she didn’t know she was giving and realize he hadn’t heard a word.

Because she was smiling. Because she was alive in that moment in a way that made the world blur.

And then one night it hit him all at once.

They were on his fire escape, watching the sky turn blue-black over Gotham. She had her legs pulled up to her chest, hoodie sleeves covering her hands, talking about something called CRISPR and how gene editing could eventually reverse certain degenerative conditions.

Jason lit a cigarette. Didn’t smoke it. Just let it sit in his hand.

“You ever wonder,” he said, “how you ended up where you are?”

She blinked. “All the time.”

“I used to think I was supposed to be something. Like... some big cosmic screw-up happened and I got turned into this.” He gestured vaguely. “A walking wreckage.”

“You’re not a wreck.”

Jason didn’t answer. Just watched her through the smoke.

“You read the books I send,” she whispered. “You ask questions. You try. That’s more than most.”

He looked away. “You make me want to try.”

She leaned into his shoulder, quiet.

That night he dreamed she was stardust and he was gravity. Always falling toward her.

Jason didn’t call it love. He didn’t know if he deserved to.

But he was the one who brought her soup when she got sick, even if he burned the rice.

He was the one who asked her to explain particle spin six times and still got it wrong.

He was the one who, during one of her meltdowns about failing a grant application, cupped her face and said, “You’re brilliant. If the world can’t see it, that’s not your fault.”

She cried into his shoulder for an hour.

One night, you fell asleep with your notes scattered across his bed. Jason gathered them carefully, reading snatches as he did.

"Theoretical modeling of fluid behavior in low-gravity environments..."

He smiled.

You’d joked once that you were building something for NASA. He wasn’t sure if you were actually joking.

He sat beside you, brushing hair from your forehead. You sighed in your sleep.

Jason Todd, child of Gotham's gutters, held your research like it was sacred.

He didn’t understand the math. But he understood what it meant to love something so fiercely you stayed up nights chasing it.

He understood what it meant to chase you.

It wasn’t easy.

You didn’t always get his silences. His scars. The way he sometimes drifted mid-conversation, haunted by a past he couldn’t shut up.

But you waited.

You asked.

You never made him feel like a puzzle to be solved. Just a story worth reading slowly.

One day he caught you reading War and Peace. Not for class. Not for work. Just... because.

"You know that’s, like, a thousand pages, right?"

"Only 1,225," you replied without looking up. "You should try it."

Jason chuckled. "You trying to turn me into a nerd, sweetheart?"

You looked at him then, all sharp eyes and soft affection. "You already are. You just don’t know it yet."

When you said "I love you," it was after explaining something about black holes.

Jason had no idea how you got from "gravitational collapse" to "I love you," but he wasn’t complaining.

He’d spent so long being angry. Being alone. Being something sharp and armored.

You cracked through it all with equations and post-it notes, with quiet mornings and whispered facts about tardigrades.

You made him laugh. Think. Google shit.

You made him feel.

He didn’t always understand what you said. He never fully grasped string theory.

But he learned her favorite coffee order, and the way she curled her toes when she was focused, and how to tell when her anxiety was starting to spiral.

He learned how to love her without needing to understand every atom.

Because she made him feel like maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t a cosmic mistake after all.

He was just a man. With a girl. And a heart that beat a little faster every time she said, “Hey Jay, guess what I learned today?”

And that?

That he understood perfectly.

And that was enough.

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