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— IT’S SO SWEET

pairing: jason todd x best friend!reader

summary: the 3 times jason takes care of you and the 1 time he lets you do the same. alternatively, jason thinks he's invincible, but his best friend needs to be protected at all costs.

warnings: unedited. again. pls don't kill me. swearing, kissing, mentions of blood/weapons/injuries, mentions of periods, reader is a nursing student, best friends to lovers!!! <3

author’s note: *shoves it at you* another one of these fics with the same format, this time with jason :) listen to 'sweet' by cigarettes after sex while reading this btw. and let me know what you think!! drop an ask or a message, don’t be shy!💌

1. when finals are going to kill you.

Sometimes you think being a vigilante like your best friend is worth the constant risk of dying if it means you never have to open another textbook again. When you voice this to Jason, he scowls like you've just threatened to kill a kitten in front of him.

"That's not funny. Don't even joke about that," he scolds, still frowning at you from the opposite end of your kitchen island. His Red Hood suit is sprawled out in front of him as he stitches up a loose hem, compliments of the last goon he most likely beat to a pulp. You make a face at the fact that his sleeve is covering your anatomy notes, ignoring the way he leans down in attempt to catch your eye. He resorts to snapping his fingers in your face. "Hey. Hey, I'm serious."

"Jason," you sigh, setting down your pen and resting your chin on your hand as you talk to him. "I'm studying for nursing school finals in my kitchen, because I didn't want to walk the five more steps it takes to get to my bedroom after making instant ramen. Do you really need me to tell you I'm not being serious about becoming a vigilante?"

His shoulders relax very slightly, but his expression stays annoyed. "You're going to give me an entire head of grey hair before I'm even thirty."

"Well, at least we know it'll suit you," you say through a yawn as you point to the white streak running through his hair. "So, if anything, you're welcome."

He gives you another withering glare, going back to his stitching. The tiny needle in his large hand distracts you for a minute until you realise that Jason has stopped sewing and you're actually staring into nothing now. He notices your eyes that have glossed over and immediately reaches over to slam your textbook shut, startling you back to attention. It isn't until he does this that you feel the exhaustion seeping into your bones, emphasised by the knot in your neck and the cramp in your writing hand.

Jason drags your textbook away from you, along with your notes. You take a second to appreciate how careful he is not to crease the pages, knowing you'd lose your mind. "Okay, you're done for today."

"Huh?" you mumble stupidly, his words registering in your mind too late and you realise he's just hijacked your study material. "Wh- Hey! Give it back, Jay, I have-"

"Finals, I know. Last I checked, you need to be alive to take finals and I don't see that happening unless you take a nap," he says, voice a little too calm for someone who you're about to pounce on and claw at until you get your textbook back. You sluggishly clamber off your stool and step in front of Jason, who immediately raises his arm to hold your textbook out of reach.

You look up at him and attempt an intimidating glare. "Hand over the textbook, Todd."

Jason raises his eyebrows, huffing out an exasperated laugh. "Lift one of your arms to get the book and its yours."

Your finger doesn't so much as twitch, but you sway a little until you reluctantly accept that maybe he's won this one. And maybe a nap does sound pretty good right now, you think with a groan, dropping your head so it rests on Jason's chest. Your arms hang floppily at your sides. "I'll kick your ass after my nap," you mumble into his shirt.

"I'm terrified," he deadpans, and you hear the thud of the textbook on the counter before his large hands come up to grip your waist so he can walk you backwards to your couch, knowing you well enough to anticipate your grumbles if he were to attempt to take you all the way to your bedroom. You smile into his chest.

"You've met your match, Red," you say as dramatically as you can for someone who's practically the equivalent to a sack of potatoes against Jason right now. When you feel the back of your legs hit the couch, you grip onto the bottom of Jason's shirt and tug at the fabric before he can let you go. "You're my human pillow, where do you think you're going?"

Before he can answer, you nudge him onto the couch and he obediently lies down so you can nestle in next to him and plop your head back onto his warm, muscled chest. You blame your exhaustion for your shameless behaviour.

Despite the tiredness, you can't help irritating Jason just a little bit more. "Hey, Jay. What would my vigilante name be?"

"Shut up," he says without any bite, resting his chin on top of your head. You snicker into his shirt, half delirious with fatigue but awake enough to feel his face moving as he smiles when he thinks you're not looking.

"Something cool. Like Nightwing," you mutter sleepily, poking the bear.

"What? Nightwing is not as cool as-" Jason starts incredulously, but cuts himself off. "Whatever. Go to sleep."

You hum, eyelids feeling heavy and you start drifting off, the last thing you register being Jason's fingertip tracing circles on your back.

When you wake up, Jason and his suit are gone, but you have a blanket tucked around you and a box of your favourite cookies on the coffee table.

2. when, apparently, you aren't immune to the streets of gotham.

Considering you live in the most corrupt city in the world, you probably should be a little more cautious about going out at night. It's not like you don't take precautions, though. Like every woman in Gotham, you're loaded with pepper spray every time you leave the house. Unlike every woman in Gotham, you also have multiple vigilantes in your phone with whom you share your location with.

Even then, you aren't stupid enough to step into any alleyways. You wish that were enough to stay out of trouble, but as soon as you realise the streets have completely emptied while you've been distracted with your thoughts, you start panicking a little.

You're fine, you reassure yourself as you slide your phone out your pocket to pull up your recent texts. You keep your screen open just for some reassurance, gripping the sides of your phone tightly when you hear some distant footsteps.

It's only ten more minutes to the convenience store, so you're more irritated than scared when you hear the footsteps quicken behind you, catching up. Your fingers fumble to text an SOS to Jason, but you accidentally tap send on your chat with Dick instead. With slightly shaky hands, you try and send one to Jason as well, hoping it's gone through when your phone is suddenly knocked out of your hand.

"Oh, for the love of-" you hiss, when you hear the cracking noise of your screen against the pavement and you don't risk reaching down to grab it. Instead, you turn around slowly to face a dark figure, clad in a cliche, all-black outfit and stood in a threatening stance. God, you hate Gotham.

"Hand over your-"

"Wallet, money, most prized possession," you cut the man off, probably very stupidly. "I know the drill, hang on."

He falters for a moment before anger clouds his expression and he pulls out a knife before you can get your wallet out. You try not to sigh in relief. For anyone else that might sound crazy, but knives you could manage. Being best friends with Jason Todd means of course you've been made to learn self-defence. Disarming someone with knives was doable enough to learn as a nursing student. Guns, on the other hand, are out of your league.

The fact that you know how to defend yourself doesn't make the knife look any less threatening and sharp, though.

"Hey, look, I'm not gonna be difficult," you say, dropping your voice to a low murmur as though you're trying to coax a cat out of a tree. "I'll give you my money."

"Yeah. Yeah, you do that," he rushes out, sounding confused. You kind of feel bad for him. Most people confronted with a mugger would probably be a lot more scared than you're acting and it's clearly throwing him off his game. You almost regret bothering to send your SOS and as you're thinking about how you're going to apologise to Dick for wasting his time, you go to grab your wallet to try and stall before the mugger becomes violent. "Stop! Put your hands up. I'll grab it myself."

You furrow your brows, about to argue that no, he fucking won't. But you see that the man's face suddenly becomes ten times paler than before and he's looking behind you instead. Your shoulders sag with relief as you spin around to see Nightwing in all his black and blue glory.

"Is there a problem, ma'am?" he lowers his voice an octave and you fight the urge to roll your eyes. He seems to be focusing hard on acting like strangers, because anyone with eyes would see the problem very clearly in the form of a man wielding a knife.

"Please, help me," you respond, drily. Dick raises a brow at your flippant attitude, so you clear your throat, kicking it up a notch. You glance at the man behind you and try to look more terrified than you feel. "Please help me, Mr Nightwing. This guy's got a knife, and he's going to stab me with it."

The man frantically shakes his head, dropping the knife immediately and backing up. "I wasn't! I swear, man, I was just trying to scare her. Look, I'll just-"

"Hey." You hear another familiar voice boom, this time through a modulator. You sigh, lifting your head to see Jason, all the more threatening as Red Hood. His guns are already in either hand by his side and you have to respect the mugger for not passing out where he stands. If you didn't know it was Jason behind that mask, you'd be terrified to death. He tilts his head, evaluating the man. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Nowhere, I-"

"Exactly," Jason's warped voice comes out tight, and you hear the cocking of his gun, making you whip around to send a panicked look to Dick. He runs closer to you and you drop your voice to a whisper.

"I've got Hood, you take care of the guy."

"Don't do anything stupid," he says, not unkindly and the two of you snap into action.

You run back over to the mugger and step in front of him, making Jason falter in his movements and lower his gun. His chest rises and falls with deep breaths like he's exercising real control. "Move."

You stay as still as possible, arms splayed out in an attempt to cover the man behind you, despite the fact that Jason definitely possesses the skill to take him out even with you in the way.

"Put your guns away," you hiss when Dick has successfully restrained the man out of earshot and is dragging him away with ease. Jason steps towards them, but you stay in his way, using both hands against his chest to stop him. It's more of a symbolic gesture than anything, since you know you wouldn't be able to budge him an inch even if you threw yourself at him with full force. He stops anyway, looking down at you with his hands gripping his firearms tightly. "He was practically harmless. Let Nightwing deal with him. Please."

You're talking him down, trying to waste time so Dick can leave before Jason is able to do anything. You know you've succeeded when he tucks away his weapons, albeit reluctantly. Dick is too far away with the man now, anyway.

"What the hell were you doing out at this time?" he says, raising his voice instead of the usual quiet, deadly anger he reserves for the people who deserve it. It's how you know he's worried, when he doesn't try and control his temper. "And without dropping me a text first, so I could check on you? You do understand where you live, right?"

"Don't yell at me!" Your voice cracks in the middle of your sentence and you feel your lower lip tremble slightly. Jason stills. You refuse to cry, cursing your damn hormones and the fact you're a woman and the fact that you're cramping again. You aren't in the mood to talk to Red Hood right now. You want Jason. "And turn off your stupid voice thing!"

He obliges quickly, stepping closer to you. You're angry at one less thing now that his voice is back to normal. "I'm sorry for yelling. Please don't be upset with me, I was just worried-"

"You were going to kill that guy."

"Damn straight," he fires back, defensive again.

You glare at him and he has enough sense not to speak further. Shaking your head, you let out a frustrated groan. "He was a lousy mugger. That hardly deserves a bullet through the head."

"Are you forgetting that he had a knife?" he exclaims, throwing his hands up. Suddenly, as though he's remembering something, Jason folds his arms across his chest. "Why'd you call D- Nightwing for help first?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. How about next time, I'll ask the guy with the a knife if he can hold off for a second while I select the right contact number!" you grit out, hit with another wave of cramps, extremely tired of this conversation. "It was an accident, you idiot. I meant to text you first."

You can't see Jason's expression beneath his Red Hood mask and you aren't going to ask him to remove it in the middle of the streets, but you imagine he's mollified with the way his shoulders relax a bit.

Huffing, you walk away to get your phone, gingerly picking it up to inspect the newly made cracks all over. You vaguely register Jason standing over your shoulder before you shove your phone in your pocket, a problem for tomorrow. You turn around to face him and clutch at your lower stomach, breathing turning shallow.

"I was on my way to the convenience store," you explain, gritting your teeth. "I assume you're coming with me now?"

"Why did you need to go so late?" he questions, typically not letting it go. Instead of responding, you screw your eyes shut and puff out a few pained breaths. He immediately grips your shoulders and begins inspecting you. "What? Are you hurt? What happened, did he get you?"

"I have cramps, you ass," you groan, shoving his hands away. He ceases looking for an injury, and you don't need to ask him to remove his mask to know that he's relieved. "I was going to the store so late because I'm out of my sanitary products."

"Oh," Jason says gruffly, a hint of embarrassment creeping into his voice due to his excessive worry. "Well, I kept a whole box of pads and stuff from the other month in my apartment. It's closer, come on."

You sag with relief, dragging your feet to follow him as the two of you walk to his place. You're in his apartment so often that you're not surprised it's stocked up with period products as well as your usual things for when you stay the night. You feel a funny little flip that has nothing to do with cramps when you consider how he kept everything.

"Do you need me to carry you?" Jason asks, completely serious, snapping you out of your thoughts. "I know how bad the cramps can get."

"I took some meds a couple hours ago, they're not the worst yet," you explain, shaking him off and trying not to think about him offering to carry you all the way to his apartment just because you have cramps.

You reach his complex quickly and he sends you up while he enters through the fire escape from a back alley as not to expose Red Hood's living quarters. By the time you've entered through his door, Jason is already there, judging by his helmet sitting on his kitchen counter.

"Be out in a second," he calls from his bedroom and so you flop down on his couch, face down in one of the cushions as you try to think about something other than the sharp needles stabbing your lower belly. He walks out while you're writhing in pain and sets down some pads, two painkillers and a glass of water on the coffee table. "Here, take them now and go sleep in the bed. There's some snacks in my nightstand if you get hungry. Do you need me to stay home?"

You reluctantly turn over onto your back and see that he's also holding your fluffy panda hot water bottle. You might combust, there and then. Pouting, you reach out for the panda, grabbing it to hold it close to your body and sighing at the slight pain relief. "I'm okay, you can go back to patrol. Thanks for looking after me, Jaybird."

"It's nothing," he shrugs, turning away to hide the pink flush appearing on his cheeks and grabbing his helmet. He shoves it on quickly and you try not to let out an unattractive snort of laughter. He turns on his voice modulator. "Text me if you need anything."

With that, he slips out of his window, making sure to shut it tightly behind him. You stay on the couch after knocking down a couple of painkillers and try to entertain yourself with some TV while you wait for Jason to come back.

You mournfully scroll through your phone, trying not to cut your fingers on the broken glass. The actual phone seems to be giving up on you as it takes forever to click on one thing to the next. Giving up, you toss it on the table and close your eyes. Making make a mental list in your head of things to do tomorrow, you add buying a new phone to it and prepare to say goodbye to a healthy chunk out of your bank account.

You don't remember dozing off, but your alarm startles you awake and you grab around for it on the nightstand next to you. Turning it off, you decide to brave the world outside the comfy sheets and realise you're in Jason's bed. He must have gotten back late and put you there, you think with a smile, suddenly happier than you were when first waking up. This happy attitude sours a bit when you nick ur finger on the broken glass of your phone screen trying to turn off the rest of your alarms.

Making your way out of his room and following the smell of toaster waffles, you see Jason plating up some breakfast for you. "Morning," you yawn, plopping down on a kitchen stool. "How was patrol?"

"Same old," he says, giving you the usual, non-descriptive answer. For all you know, he could have taken down an entire drug ring single-handedly and you'd be none the wiser. He sets down a plate in front of you, as well as a rectangular box. "Here."

You inspect the box, confused and wanting to focus more on the food before you process what it is and your jaw drops. "Jason Peter Todd. What the hell did you do!"

"Your phone broke," he says, gruffly, clearly trying to downplay the fact that he bought you a brand new smartphone, a later model than the one you already have. "Don't make a big deal out of it."

"Of course I'm going to make a big deal, Jay," you say, frowning. "I was going to get one myself today. Why did you waste your money on me? How much was it?"

"Don't worry about it," he says flippantly, plating up his own waffles. You should have known better than to ask. There's no way he's taking money from you.

You sigh, shoving your waffles and the phone out of the way to make your way over to him. "Jay," you say softly, grabbing his face in your hands. His eyes widen slightly and you fight the urge to smile. "I can't accept it."

"I said it was nothing," he replies, furrowing his brows and you release his face in favour of hugging him instead. "And it's not a waste if it's on you. You're taking the phone."

"It's everything," your voice comes out muffled by his hoodie. The cost of a phone really is nothing to Jason. It wouldn't have made even the slightest dent to his bank account, but that's not the point. "You need to let me take care of you for once. Oh, one more thing."

He hums in question, resting his chin on your head and wrapping his hands around you.

"If you buy anything for me again, I'm cutting a heart shaped hole in your suit."

Jason huffs out a laugh and you feel the vibration through his chest. "What about the coffee I get you after class every Friday?"

You stay silent.

He snorts, knowing he's got you. He drops a kiss on your head and grins when you look up to frown at him. "That's what I thought."

3. when this guy just won't take a hint.

Jason owes you big time. You've had the longest week of your life and yet here you are, in a floor length, dark red dress and heels, for crying out loud.

Realistically, this is the least you could do for him, showing up to a gala thrown by his father to keep him company. You're more than happy to do this as a favour to him, but that fact doesn't make the heels pinch at your toes any less.

"I haven't worn this dress since high school," you grumble, twisting it around your waist where it fits snugly. You're thankful for the fact that it falls loosely past your waist, or you'd have ripped it from your body by now. "If I eat one thing, it might actually tear."

"I'll give you my jacket when you spot the appetisers," Jason says, absentmindedly. You squeeze his bicep gently in thanks from where your arm is looped in his as he leads you into the venue. "Anyway, we'll be in and out, as always. Just making an appearance for Bruce."

"In and out," you repeat, lowering your voice as the two of you enter a more populated area. You know even though Jason moans about these events, he wouldn't be here if he really didn't want to be. He cares, even though he'd never admit it.

Groups of businessmen, celebrities, entrepreneurs; basically a bunch of rich people who are dressed in clothes that are definitely more expensive than your rent are milling about, every one of them with a drink in their hand. Their unwavering smiles and the constant trips to the bar are nothing new and you wrinkle your nose at the atmosphere of the place. "Do they even know what charity Bruce is throwing this for?"

Jason raises an eyebrow. "Bruce could be throwing this thing for homeless badgers and they'd be none the wiser," he mutters, a hint of bitterness creeping into his voice. Rolling his neck, he takes a deep breath. "I should go say 'hi' to him, while he's talking to a bunch of people. Prove that I actually showed up. You wanna come?"

You almost agree, not wanting to be left alone, but just before you reluctantly trudge over to a group of Bruce's boring business associates, you thankfully spot Jason's brothers by the bar. "I'll just go hang out with Dick and Tim, is that okay? I can come with though, if you want."

"Nah, go ahead," he says, detangling his arm from yours and giving you a reassuring smile. "Come grab me when they start getting annoying."

"Be nice," you warn, gently shoving him towards the group of men as you make your way to Dick and Tim.

"Hey," Tim greets you with a smile, glancing up quickly before returning to his phone. He does a little double take, eyes snagging on your dress and his smile turns devious. "Well, you look nice. You're wearing a very... nice colour..."

"Tim," you heave a deep sigh. Dick rolls his eyes, but he can't help the corners of his lips quirking up. "You can't keep doing this every time I wear red."

"I'm not doing anything, just making an observation," he shrugs, rocking back and forth on his heels in an attempt to look casual. Tim glances around to see make sure no one is in earshot before lowering his voice. "Hey, totally unrelated, but I heard Jaybird nearly shot a guy for almost mugging you."

"Tim."

"Leave her alone," Dick intervenes before Tim can needle you further. He definitely enjoys it too, but ever the golden boy, he seemingly wants to keep the peace. "How are you doing after that, anyway?"

"Fine," you nod reassuringly. "Thank you, again for showing up, Dick. I really appreciate it."

"Don't be silly, it's-"

"I heard he got you a brand new phone, too," Tim pipes up, cutting his brother off.

"Tim," you groan, thwacking him in the arm with your clutch. He barely flinches. "For the last time, Jason and I are just friends."

Tim opens his mouth to respond, but his eyes dart behind you and he thinks better of it, choosing to just smirk like the troublemaker he is.

"That's good news." You whip around to locate the source of the voice, finding yourself looking at a guy you've never met before. He seems to be around your age, dressed smart and very rich looking. You stand there stupidly.

"For who?" you ask, chuckling nervously.

He shrugs, giving you a charming smile. "Anyone who wants to buy you a drink. May I?"

Understanding dawns on you and you glance at Dick and Tim with wide eyes, feeling a little awkward that they're here for this interaction. Dick keeps his expression carefully neutral as he considers the man, whereas Tim frowns when he meets your eyes, jerking his head as subtly as possible in Jason's direction.

This has you glaring at him and just to prove a point, you plaster on a wide smile of your own and return your attentions to the stranger. "Yes. You may."

The two of you walk closer to the end of the bar and away from the others. You pointedly don't look at them. "What was your name?" you ask the stranger, mostly for the sake of being polite.

"George." A rich guy name, you think to yourself. If Jason were here, you know he'd have a million things to say.

He asks your name and you give it to him as he orders you a drink without actually asking what you want.

"Pretty name," George remarks, handing you a glass of something you've never had before. You pretend to take a sip, smiling in thanks. "So, what's your story?"

You try not to outwardly cringe at the question, sorely regretting tonight's decisions despite the fact you've been here less than half an hour. "I'm just here to keep my friend company." You keep the story short, not bothering to explain how you know the Wayne family.

"Ah, well. I dont blame you for looking so bored. I'm just here because I have to be as well," he mutters, swirling the contents of his glass. "Business connections and such."

"Oh." You find yourself being less and less interested in this conversation. "Do you know what the fundraiser tonight is for?"

"God, no," George laughs, taking a sip of his drink. You try your hardest not to grimace, mentally checked out of the conversation already. "It's always the same shit, anyway. Forget all that. Drink up and we can get out of here."

You nearly choke on your own saliva at his sheer confidence and set down your drink. "I really shouldn't. I'm, uh, I'm okay staying here."

"Aw, come on," he leans in a little closer than you'd like and you try to look as imperceptibly as you can for Dick or Tim, but it seems they've left you to face the consequences of your own actions. Traitors. "You don't look like you're enjoying yourself. What, you don't like me-?"

"Hey." You feel Jason's presence at the same time as hearing his voice. You almost laugh at how relieved you suddenly feel and you and relax into his hold when he places both hands on your waist. Jason drops his voice to a murmur that only you can hear. "Ready to go home?"

You nod, turning to leave. About to bid a quick goodbye to George as not to be rude, you open your mouth but get stopped in your tracks.

"She's fine right here, man," George says, voice as smooth as glass. If the glass is shattered into sharp, pointy spikes that are as uncomfortable as this conversation, that is.

Jason's previously polite smile hardens as his front is now practically plastered against your back. "She can talk for herself."

"She was actually just-"

"She's right here," you interrupt, squirming out of Jason's arms to step back. He drops his hands immediately, but doesn't look at you. Instead, he assesses George through a narrow eyed gaze. You can't decide if George is being brave, or stupid for not cracking under the weight of Jason's intense glare as he stands there, all six foot two of him posing a threatening picture. "Right, well. I'm just going to-"

"Hey, hold on," George says, averting his all-too arrogant gaze back to you and gripping your upper arm, jerking you slightly. You flinch a little when he moves into your personal space. "You aren't going to give me your number?"

His grip doesn't hurt, but it's a world away from gentle and you almost gape at the fact he doesn't seem to be aware of how uninterested you are.

Jason immediately clocks this, stepping forward. "Yeah, I don't fucking think so," he says darkly and then he shoves at George. Hard.

The people nearest to you gasp and titter when they see George careening into the stools at the bar and you slap a hand over your mouth, shocked. Shocked that Jason had actually gotten violent as Jason and not as Red Hood. All over a random creep, no less.

Before George even has the chance to recover from the surprise of Jason's brute force, you pull harshly on Jason's suit jacket, steering him out of the venue and into the hall. He follows you without protest, still breathing heavily.

"What the hell was that?" you hiss, trying to keep your voice quiet, despite being alone out in the entrance hall.

"He grabbed you," Jason says slowly, as if he's confused as to why you're upset. His expression is tight, like he's being careful to control his anger even now that you're away from George. "I would have done a lot fucking worse to him if you hadn't dragged me out of there."

"You cannot go all Red Hood when you're Jason! It's suspicious as hell. Not to mention how you were practically back-hugging me like some sort of reverse bulletproof vest."

"I always do that," Jason says, calmly. The fact that he isn't raising his voice just spurs you on to raise yours higher. The multitude of emotions swirling around in a confused whirl around your stomach makes you nauseous.

"You hate being touchy in public," you say, pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration. "Last month, you punched Tim in the stomach for putting his arm around your shoulder. Anyway, that's not the point! You're so occupied with trying to take care of everyone that you never consider yourself. Or let anyone else do so. Yeah, that guy was an asshole. But he was just an asshole trying to talk to a single girl. He wasn't some... some crime boss or villain or evil freaking mastermind for you to take down!"

"I don't need looking after. And he didn't know you were single," Jason scoffs, running a hand through his neatly combed hair, mussing it up. If you weren't so irritated, you'd take a moment to appreciate how much you prefer it when he looks like this. Real and raw, like the current expression on his face rather than closed off and emotionless. "You came here on my arm, wearing my colour, like Tim's always fucking going on about. You... you're my..."

"Your what, Jason?" you ask, hysterically. You're almost yelling now, finally ready to snap at Jason's inability to share his thoughts with you. He stays silent, face going blank again, an indication that he's closing himself off to you. Your shoulders sag from exhaustion. "Come talk to me when you can give me an answer. I'm going home, I'll get Dick to give me a ride."

You don't wait for a response as you walk back into the venue. Thankfully, Dick is near the entrance and you don't have to subject yourself to too many stares before he takes you home. You don't glance at Jason on your way out.

4. when he asks for your help.

You're moping. You don't bother trying to deny it, but you're definitely moping around your apartment since your fight with Jason. You wake early every day and get dressed and study, but your movements are almost robotic in nature.

Dick has tried texting you a few times, but you've decided to just avoid looking at your phone, because it's the one Jason bought and it just makes you feel even worse. You aren't sure if Jason's tried contacting you, but your phone stops going off around the same time as Dick's evening patrol and you don't let yourself dwell on it further.

The two of you have never gone this long without speaking and aside from the pit of unease in your stomach as well as the sadness hanging over you like a dark cloud, you're also just bored. You have acquaintances from your nursing course, but no one close enough to do anything with this late at night.

Oh, well, you think to yourself, Chinese food and Grey's Anatomy for the second night in a row it is.

You take a quick shower, standing under the hot water for longer than necessary to let the time pass. Getting out, you change into your second pyjama set of the day, opting for a hoodie when you feel a chill in your room that wasn't there before.

You go to shut your bedroom window with a frown, not remembering why you opened it. The handle is stiff and you internally curse your landlord for still not fixing it as you finally succeed in shutting the damn thing after a particularly hard tug.

It shouldn't have taken that much energy out of you, but you're panting when you walk out of your bedroom to enter the living room so you can sit in front of the TV and order the takeout that you probably shouldn't be eating.

Before you can even attempt to regulate your breathing, you look up in the direction of your couch to find Jason sitting there in his Red Hood suit and slap a hand over your mouth to smother your shriek.

"Oh my God," you gasp, your free hand flailing out frantically to grasp the door frame in an attempt to steady yourself. The minute it takes for you to catch your breath is enough time to take in the state of the vigilante sitting in the dark of your living room.

You switch the light on and Jason winces at the sudden brightness, but you take the opportunity to give him a thorough once over. His dark hair is disheveled and falling into his eyes from hours of confinement in his helmet and he has a fresh bruise blossoming across his cheekbone.

You hardly ever use the main light, usually opting for a warm-toned lamp instead, so when the main light casts the cuts and scrapes on Jason's body in a harsher light, you want to turn it off even more.

Jason's eyes flutter shut for a second and you immediately rush forward to assess him for any injuries causing major blood loss. "Did you get stabbed?" you ask clinically, your voice void of any emotion. "Are you bleeding under your suit? You need to stay awake-"

"I'm fine," Jason mutters, opening his eyes to peer up at you through tired eyes. "I'm not bleeding or anything. Just wiped out from patrol."

You relax slightly, taking a step back to create some distance between the two of you. "Oh. You snuck through my window to tell me that you're tired?"

"Anyone could have snuck through that damn window," he says, brows furrowing in disapproval. He's been hassling you about the security of your apartment since you can remember and you usually wave him off, but in this moment you bristle.

"You don't get to be annoyed at me right now," you say, crossing your arms and glaring at him through narrowed eyes. "Why are you here, Jason?"

He grimaces at the use of his government name coming from you and takes a deep breath. "I haven't slept."

"So, go home and take a nap," you say, exasperated, letting your hands fall to your side as you're about to turn around and walk back into your room. Before you leave, you hear your Nursing teachers' voices in your head, reprimanding you and you sigh. "And you want to clean those cuts before they get infected."

"Could you do it for me?" Jason asks quietly, barely audible. His jaw clenches with the effort of asking you the question. "Please?"

You blink at him. "But, I- You've never..." you trail off, not knowing what to say. Jason has always refused to let anyone else patch him up after patrol. Hell, he's even learned how to do stitches on himself when you're the one learning how to do them for a living.

"I want... to let you look after me," he whispers, looking at you imploringly like you're going to refuse. Your irritation immediately melts into something else that you don't want to analyse any time soon.

"Oh," you exhale softly, heart twisting unwillingly. You nod slowly, words escaping you again. "Okay."

Jason's head flops back onto the couch cushion and he sighs like all of the tension is leaving his body. His hair covers his eyes, but you don't miss the dark circles under them, contrasting starkly with his skin, pale from exhaustion.

You consider letting him stay there, but you know it'll be easier in the bathroom where you keep all of your first aid supplies and the lighting is better for when you're practicing your techniques. "Come on. Up," you say, gesturing to the bathroom with a jerk of your head and you walk away, allowing him to come in his own time.

While you're digging through your bathroom cabinet for all the supplies you've haphazardly thrown in after using them, Jason slips in and you glance over at him quickly. "Sit down," you mutter, reaching up for the disinfectant. It sits on one of the higher shelves and you have to get on your tiptoes to reach it. Jason instinctively moves to help you but you shoo him away, managing to grasp it yourself. "Sit down."

"Yes, nurse," he huffs out a quiet laugh and you bite back a smile, opting to roll your eyes at him instead. Setting your supplies down behind Jason, you focus your attentions on unzipping his suit. The way his arms are resting limp in his lap tells you that he's not wanting to move anytime soon. You bring the zipper down yourself and pull off each sleeve cautiously, not wanting to rip the suit further where the torn fabric is clinging to the bloody cuts in his skin.

Once the suit is hanging loosely around his waist, you see from the black tank he's wearing that the cuts are localised to his now bare arms from where he's been defensive, whereas the fabric on his chest and abdomen are intact.

Jason's eyes track your face as you assess the extent of his injuries and when you lift your face to look at him, he's unabashed, continuing to look directly into your eyes. Your cheeks warm and you stutter out a sentence "I-I'll be right back, one sec."

You rush out of the bathroom and into your kitchen to pull open the freezer and scramble around for a bag of frozen anything. Settling on a bag of peas that you have no intention of cooking anytime soon, you hurry straight back to the bathroom.

Jason eyes the peas warily and you raise a brow, daring him to challenge you. When he stays silent, you move forward to shove the peas onto his cheek where the bruise is a darker red mark than before. He hisses when the icy bag makes contact with his face, flinching away from it.

"Ouch," he mumbles belatedly, giving you a sheepish smile when your mouth sets in a line. You should probably be gentler with him considering it's the first time he's allowing someone to physically care for him and it's you he's choosing to cross that boundary with. It's not like you want to scare him off so he never asks you again, but you can't help still being annoyed with him after your fight.

You sigh, trying to relax your face into a non-threatening expression. "Sorry. Keep it on your face to stop the swelling."

Jason grasps the bag slowly as you let go, letting his fingers brush over your own. You clear your throat and focus your attentions on the cotton pads, dousing them with disinfectant. Jason looks at you through one open eye, the other obscured by the bag of peas. "You shouldn't be the one apologising," he says, after a beat.

You purse your lips, bringing a cotton pad up to Jason's shoulder. "I know," you say simply before you press the disinfectant into one of the larger cuts, harder than probably necessary. Jason screws his eyes shut and works his jaw, but stays quiet. "Did that hurt?"

Jason shakes his head immediately, letting out a short breath he was holding. "Nope. Felt good actually. Kinda like a cooling effe- Shit," he hisses, tensing his arm. You think that's enough torture for now, instead continuing to gently wipe away the blood and dirt.

"I won't apologise about that one," you say, shrugging. Jason cracks a smile and you find yourself hiding one of your own as you clean off the other, smaller cuts and scrapes that don't need bandaging. "Are you hurt anywhere else? Promise I'll be nicer about it this time."

Jason shakes his head again, so you dispose of the cotton pads and get the band-aids, the only noise in the bathroom being the sound of you rummaging through your supplies. When you spot the choice of band-aids, you grin. "Pick one."

Surveying the two that you hold in your hand, Jason's gaze lingers on the dinosaur patterned band-aid, before flicking his eyes up to yours and raising an eyebrow. He points to the other one. "I'll take the Hello Kitty."

Your grin widens, knowing he's only choosing the pink Hello Kitty band-aid to appease you. You're certainly not going to challenge him about it as you carefully peel off the backing to stick it over his shoulder. Stepping back, you tilt your head to evaluate him and nod. "You look very pretty."

Jason smirks, but the slight blush creeping across the cheek that isn't covered by the frozen peas doesn't fool you. "Pretty enough for you to forgive me for being such an ass?"

"That depends." You take a tentative step towards him, crossing your arms. "Are you going to stop being stupid?"

Jason lowers his arm holding the bag of peas and places it behind him. With both hands, he reaches over to your arms, uncrossing them to bring you forward until you're standing close. He's so impossibly tall in your tiny bathroom that even standing up, you're only eye level with him as he sits on the closed toilet seat.

"I can't promise that I'll never be stupid in front of you again. You kind of have that effect on me," he says, sighing like it's some curse inflicted on him. You thwack his rock-solid arm and he grins. "I can promise I'll let you take care of me from now on, though. And that I'm going to stop lying to you."

"What?" you ask, eyebrows furrowing. You're even more confused when Jason places his hands around your waist to guide you onto his lap, both your legs hanging off one side of him. You raise both eyebrows expectantly, waiting for his answer, but he merely stares at you, smiling. "Jason. When have you lied to- mmph-"

He cuts you off by pressing your lips together in a kiss, one hand still holding yours, intertwining your fingers while the other tilts your chin up so he can kiss you deeper. You're a little slow on the uptake, frozen from shock for a second, but it isn't long until you're kissing him back just as eagerly. You shift in his lap, lifting one of your legs to swing over to his other side until you're straddling him and Jason takes a sharp inhale, sitting up straighter and pulling your body closer to his.

He pulls away for a millisecond, before his lips reattach to your jaw, travelling down to pepper soft kisses down your neck and you let out a noise halfway between a sigh and an embarrassing whimper. Jason groans at the sound, nipping at your neck and you feel like you can't breathe enough air.

He pulls away again to catch his own breath and you take the opportunity to come to your senses and lean back, gently pushing at Jason's chest. You breathe hard, trying to lift your gaze from Jason's swollen lips and he seems to be having a hard time looking away from your own.

"Jason," you say, voice shaky and uneven.

"Mhm?" he hums distractedly, pressing a soft kiss on your jaw before looking at you again.

"You kissed me," you point out, stupidly. "You really, really kissed me."

"I did," Jason murmurs, both hands cupping your face. He swallows, expression going from dazed to nervous before he speaks. "You asked me what you are to me before you left the other night."

You nod slowly, head still reeling from the kiss. Truthfully, you were willing to pretend the conversation never happened if you could go back to being friends again. You missed Jason.

"You're everything to me." Jason's shoulders are relaxed, his face free of tension as he says this. You're so shocked by the fact that he doesn't seem to be in pain as he opens himself up to you, that it takes a minute to process the actual meaning of his words. Your lips part but he shakes his head, continuing to speak. "You're everything. And sometimes I can't even think about that too much, let alone speak it, because I'm scared it'll consume me. I'm scared you'll consume me. The idea of compromising your safety, the idea of you loving me back, all of it. I'm... I was scared."

You lift your hand to place it over Jason's, still resting on your cheek. "That's okay. I can think and speak enough for the both of us," you tease and Jason laughs quietly, his breath tickling the inside of your wrist and sending a shiver down your spine. "You're everything to me as well, by the way. And sometimes all I can think about is loving you. I was just waiting for you to say it first."

Jason smiles and you think the corners of his lips lifting up and his eyes lighting up is the most beautiful thing you've ever seen, each time blowing you away like it's the first time you've witnessed it. "Does that mean I lose? Kinda feels like I've won," he tilts his head, pretending to think about it.

"Oh, you've so lost," you furrow your brows in a mockingly serious frown. "And I'll be telling Tim as much."

Jason stills. "Please do not tell me that he bet you fifty dollars I'd confess first as well."

Your jaw drops. "That little bastard was playing both of us?"

You start laughing when Jason lets out an irritated groan, dropping his head onto your shoulder to bury his face in your shirt. You thread your hands in his hair and wrap an arm around his neck. He sighs, half content and half resigned. "I say we don't tell him for as long as we can get away with it. Live in peace for a while."

"We're talking about Tim here," you remind Jason, leaning back to lift his head and look at him. "I wouldn't be surprised if he already knew. And he'd literally never talk to you again if he knew we were hiding it after he finds out."

"I don't care," Jason says, lifting your hand to brush his lips over your knuckles. He leans back to run his eyes over your face, drinking you in like looking at you is a rare occurrence that he doesn't get the opportunity to do much. "You're all I need, anyway."

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imbadstuff · 4 months

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gn!reader, minors and ageless blogs dni.

sparring with jing yuan and ending up—as always—pinned beneath his broad body, sweat glimmering on his skin as he peers down at you with that annoying smile of his.

"yield," he says.

you try to wrench yourself free. he holds you in place easily, his smile widening. he leans down to you. his eyes shine, as golden as the ginkgo leaves swirling around the courtyard, and his breath is almost puffing against your lips as he says again:

"yield."

you scowl up at him. "no."

he hums, shifting both your wrists into one big hand. like this, he curves over you like sky, filling your world with nothing but him. you squirm.

"knowing when you've lost is part of battle," he tells you.

"i haven't lost yet."

you slip a leg out from under him, but before you can wrap it around his hip, he has you by the thigh, pinning it in place. his fingers press divots into the softness of your thigh. your breath catches.

he holds you there for a minute, spread out beneath him, pinned like a butterfly. you try to not make a desperate sound as he forces your thigh back against the ground.

he leans back down to you. his eyes are twinkling.

"yield."

the thing about jing yuan, you've learned, is that he likes to make you say it. you lose to him constantly, but he'll keep you pinned until you admit defeat. it always takes longer than it should.

you strain against his hold, but it does nothing. his lips curve. the smile that blooms is small. there's something smug tucked up in the corner of it.

it sends fire spinning through you. you arch up like a bowstring, and as he shifts to press you down with more of his weight, you kiss him.

it's brief, but his grip on you loosens. you surge up into the freedom of it, using the momentum to flip the two of you over. he gazes up at you, his long hair like a halo of starlight around his head.

"yield," you tell him, ignoring the heat rising in your cheeks.

"an interesting tactic," he says. "i'll have to try it out for myself."

"what—"

he kisses you, firm and fierce, with a hint of sweetness that makes you think of winter fading into spring. you let go of him; one of his hands settles heavy at the nape of your neck, coaxing you closer.

you find yourself on your back again, dizzy with the taste of him. he smiles down at you. his hair is a veil, blocking out the rest of the world in seafoam white.

you squirm under him, the full weight of what you've done hitting you. your cheeks are hot; you have to look away from him.

he doesn't let you. he catches your chin between his fingers and makes you face him.

"an interesting tactic," he says again. "one that is best used with just me, i think."

"jing yuan!"

he chuckles. "shy, suddenly?"

you scowl. "i'm not shy. now let me up."

"no."

you gape at him.

"you'll run," he says, and he's not wrong. "i am not against a chase, but i haven't had my afternoon nap yet."

he leans down, his breath puffing against your lips. you suck in a soft breath. he smiles.

"yield to me, dear," he says. "i'll make it worth your while."

you pause. he waits.

"i yield."

he smiles.

#jing yuan

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imbadstuff · 4 months

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simon riley will not have his nightly cuddling taken away just because you are "too warm."

simon riley will not let you out of his arms even if you are both sticky with sweat by morning.

simon cuddlebug riley will buy every fan and set of cooling sheets on the market if it means you will not try to wiggle out of his grasp.

"simon it's way too hot.."

"get naked. tha'll cool y' off."

#simon riley

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imbadstuff · 4 months

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a toast to you…!

jason todd x black!fem!reader

minors dni, mature audience, suggestive content

summary: jason and his protective nature throughout the relationship amplifies even more when you’re drunk. his desire is not important when you’re under the influence.

cw: language, suggestive content, pretty much fluff, established relationship, one singular smack on the butt, drinking + intoxication, drunk reader, speaks of consent

names used(?): pretty girl, baby, sweetheart, pretty thing, beautiful girl

wc. 2.3k+

tag + note: literally rewrote this multiple times because i was struggling with the wording and pacing. then halfway through the third time writing it i was like this would make a great nye fic. so i started the process of writing it for the fourth time, while drunk (lmao). but ultimately started slacking. then i came along @fic-over-cannon ’s piece which pushed me to finishing, we were literally on the same wavelength i swear — despite our differences in time frames lmfao. there may be a follow up so let me know if you would like a part two. i really hope you all enjoy! i wish you all a beautiful new year’s eve + day.

the cold air of the crisp winter night nipped at your smooth brown skin, snow falling in a cast of white flurry all around you. your eyes felt somewhat heavy as your eyelids drooped — eyelashes fluttering just a bit as you took in the scenery. a pretty toothy grin tugged at your glossed lips. with your head tilted upward, you allowed snowflakes to rain down on you from the night sky. letting them drop down in all their graceful glory and melt into your already-cold skin. the tip of your nose boarding along freezing and your cheeks following suit. though, it did not seem to bother you one bit — your trench coat had long been shrugged off and draped across your arm. something you surely would have been reprimanded for during your childhood.

a giggle full of glee fell from your lips, almost like the joy that followed a child's first sight of snow. it was a melody that jason could never get tired of hearing. he listened intently as he sifted through his keys for the house key. finding beauty in such a place as gotham was your specialty, something that your boyfriend had come to adore you for. you were like a missile, seeking out the light in a dark room. your joy had been buried in studying the little things, then pulling them to the forefront for others to observe. it kept jason balanced and kept him at peace within the realm of gotham.

“now, what could you possibly find funny out here?” jason’s amused question broke the daze you had found yourself in, and he tutted at seeing you bask in the winter air with no coat. although a grin fell onto his face as he observed your happy appearance as he pushed the front door of your home open, the keys in the lock jingling and swaying in the process. a gush of warmth radiated from the gap in the door.

“the snow, jay. it’s beautiful.” you spoke with a slight slur to your words, your intoxication evident on your tongue. the pristine white snowflakes had begun to cling to your blonde-colored fulani braids as you looked at your boyfriend. his eyes took in every movement of your drunken state – vigilant at all times. shaking his head, he pushed the front door open, stomping his black dress shoes against the welcome mat at the front door in order to not track snow into the house.

“so are you, pretty girl. now get inside before you catch a cold to go along with that hangover tomorrow.” jason spoke gently as he grabbed at your forearm, pulling you towards him as he walked you over the threshold of your shared home. “i can tell you definitely enjoyed yourself tonight.”

it was never your plan to drink so much tonight. no, that was not the plan at all when you were told about bruce’s new year’s eve party. this had been your second time attending the event, marking two years since you had begun dating jason. as classical music buzzed around the open floor of wayne manor, you had showed up as quiet as a mouse, shaking the hands of those that spoke to both you and jason. your acrylics played at the emerald-green silk of your maxi dress.

it was not until bruce had spoken to you two that you started to loosen up a bit. taking a drink from his hand as he had welcomed you, then deciding to venture off on your own a bit. jason watched you closely as you admired the manor and spoke with those who approached you. a few times you had been offered more to drink and food as well, and you agreed politely.

jason’s eyes had moved from anyone he had conversed with to you during the party. the bulbs of glowing warm lights highlighting your skin with each movement you made, your dress fell perfectly over you. the cherry on top was that any time you passed by, you left a trail of your signature scent behind; it was like a pathway that he could follow to the end of the earth.

to say he had been stuck on you the whole night was an understatement. he was stuck on you daily — this was something more. he was sure you would drive him mad one day, but he did not think it would come so soon. he shifted on his feet just a bit as he watched the man he had been speaking to bid a farewell, his daze starting to send a wave of desire through him as the night progressed. though he began to push his thoughts down as your pretty eyes began to glaze over due to intoxication — peering at him with a gaze full of adoration.

it was almost twisted, really.

the way he knew you held such love for him. no matter what he had come from, no matter where his faults lied in the past. you had always looked to him like he had hung the moon and the stars — which he would gladly do for you with no questions asked. though, as he heard a small giggle leave your pretty lips, he knew it was time to go. he knew you knew your limits, but he also knew you would crash at some point. then it would be a mess as he tried to get your drowsy self to get ready for bed.

it had been way past midnight, so guests had begun parting ways. jason watched you closely as you rejected a hand pushing another glass your way. your braids swaying just a bit as you shake your head kindly, the ends of your hair brushing across the cloth of your silk emerald-green dress.

the car ride home was filled with the low sound of the radio. one of jason’s hands splayed over your lap while you fumbled around with his fingers, running your hand over his forearm. his other hand was placed securely on the leather covered steering wheel. he already knew what you were hinting at, but a response of refusal had already begun to brew in his thoughts. it diminished the want that he had felt making its way to the forefront earlier, turning it into absolute nothingness.

your laughter filled the car at random times as you complimented jason a few times throughout the ride. your eyes tracing over his face as he drove, a hand reaching out to brush through his hair at times. the scenery flew by beautifully as you both neared your home. decorations that people had left up after christmas lit up the city.

“but jayyy, the snow.” a whine left your lips in protest as you both took in the warmth of the home. you could hear the locks of the front door slid into place, then felt your trench coat being taken from your hands.

“the snow will be there tomorrow, baby. whining definitely won’t work,” he chuckled as his dress shoes thudded against the hardwood floors as he took them off. watching as you stooped down to take off your heels, stumbling a little as you tried to stand once they had been removed. a gentle yet firm hand was wrapped around your upper arm, catching you swiftly as you were pulled up before hitting the floor. a small yelp of surprise falling from your lips.

“you’ve gotta be careful, sweetheart.” jason spoke almost sternly with a small frown. pulling you towards him and over his shoulder, he landed a smack on your poked out asscheek. a spill of laughter fell from his lips as he listened to your cheeky protests that followed. he guided you both to the kitchen, sitting you on the marble-topped island in the middle of it.

“we already ate at bruce’s though—” a hiccup cut your words short as you watched your boyfriend drift around the kitchen. reaching into the cabinet to pull out a cup, the glass shining in the light of the kitchen.

“i’m not getting food; i’m getting you some water. we’ve gotta sober you up.”

“iamsober.” your words slurred together as your feeble attempt to feign a sober response fell flat on its face. a knowing laugh falling from your lips as your boyfriend’s eyebrow lifted in an amused manner as he filled the cup by using the water dispenser on the front of the fridge.

“nice try,” jason stated as he neared you once more, hand jutting out to give you the cup. “we’re not going anywhere until you finish.”

“what if i said no?” you bit back jokingly, though the rim on the cup fell to your lips as you began to drink.

“well, we’d be here all night. i’d annoy you until you finished it.” he stated with a matter-of-fact tone.

“i don’t know if you can annoy me, jason. that might be impossible.” a bashful smile covered your face as you downed the last bit of water in the glass. taking the cup from you and sitting it down, jason found himself standing in between your legs, his hands falling down to rub at your covered thighs.

“yeah?” he spoke slowly as he closed in on you, his face mere inches away from your own. the alcohol that lingered on your breath was still clear to him, and even more so as his lips met your own. your tongue swiped over his lip as if you were asking for permission to deepen the kiss. your hands reached up to play at the hairs close to the nape of his neck. subtle moans fell from your lips and were swallowed by jason, his black slacks beginning to tighten slightly in a certain area at your sounds.

“jason, i want you.” you declared as he had begun to pull away, rejection already seeping out through his demeanor. upon hearing your words, jason took into account once more the alcohol on your breath and the way your eyes held on to a dazed look. as if you were floating. your words were coherent at times but still veered off into a cluster of sounds at other times.

his protective ways are prominent in his actions. knowing you had not agreed to him touching you in your drunken state prior to your outing. your drunken words were of no significance to him.

“you’re drunk. not tonight, pretty thing.” he spoke sternly, planting a gentle peck on your lips as he picked you up once more. carrying you to the bathroom connected to your bedroom. his slacks were still tight in one area as he grabbed at washcloths. making sure to help you secure a black bonnet over your braids. he worked to ignore the cute little pout that sat on your drunken lips as he moved to turn on the shower.

standing in front of you, he dropped the straps on the dress from your arms and pulled it past your waist, watching as it fell in a pile at your feet. reaching for the band of your black lacy panties to pull them down.

“not we gettin’ frisky,” you giggled drunkenly once again.

“we’re definitely not getting frisky,” jason almost choked in response, grabbing at your waist as you used him for leverage to kick the panties off. helping to remove your jewelry, he ushered you into the shower. “get your drunk ass in the shower, pretty girl.”

looking over himself in the almost foggy bathroom mirror, jason unbuttoned the first three buttons of his black-button up. with a bit of tiredness he let out a sigh as he got undressed, ignoring his dilemma in the process. hoping that it would ease its way down so he wouldn’t have to spend time handling it himself.

the warm white comforter splayed over the bed was like a personal safe haven. you had been covered in moisturizer and other essentials by jason. his hands moving quickly to help you get dressed, tightening around you whenever he felt you were about to lose your footing. your pajamas for the night, consisting of one of his shirts and a pair of underwear. the warmth swarming the house left no fear of you getting sick while covered in your usual nighttime attire.

only a pair of dark red pajama pants hung loosely from jason’s hips as he pulled the drawstrings together to tighten the waistband. the bedside lamp and moonlight that streamed through the window were your only sources of light.

“jason…” you hummed briefly as your eyes locked on to him from your position under the comforter. placed on your side of the bed, his side empty right in front of you.

“mhm,” he hummed while briefly letting his gaze fall on you, then back to the jewelry box that he was putting your belongings into.

“you’re so handsome,” you drowsily confessed once again, your head placed on the pillow below you, eyes following his every move. watching as a lazy smirk graced his lips — a hand coming up to run through his dual-colored hair. his feet carrying him to his side of the bed.

getting under the covers beside you, jason pulled you close by your waist. setting a kiss on your lips, he let out a hum when you began to kiss back.

“you are absolutely beautiful.” jason complimented quietly. “my beautiful girl.”

“happy new year,” your words fluttered into a muttered mess as you tried to fight your sleep. eyes becoming heavy with sleep as you move your head from the pillow to jason’s bare chest. a subtle laugh left his mouth as he watched your movements and the way you tried to reject the need for sleep as you groaned a bit in frustration. gliding his hand over your side, he tried to coax you into sleeping.

“happy new year to you too,baby.”

it was moments like these that jason found most intimate. the moments where you both stepped into the unknown, like the new year that awaited you. the moments that he got to hold on to you, while you held on to him. as his hand traced over your body and began to soothe you, he listened to how light snores filled the room. reaching with his free hand to turn out the lamp on the nightstand with very little effort.

#jason todd

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imbadstuff · 4 months

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“I’ve never cum before.”

Your shy admission from earlier that day swirled about in Simon’s mind, and the more he thought about it the more he just couldn’t believe it was the truth.

So he made it his sole mission that night, to make the woman he’d had feelings for years for cum, just for him.

He wasted no time in taking you to his quarters, slowly and gently ridding you of your clothes. When he finally set eyes on your naked frame, he was truly convinced you’d ruined him for anyone else. He’d be yours until his dying breath.

He’d make you cum for him, if it was the last fucking thing he did on this earth.

You were a sweaty, writhing mess beneath him and Simon couldn’t get enough of it. The taste of you, your scent, the softness of your skin and the fucking way you sounded had Simon’s brain in a daze.

“Oh, oh my god.” You cried out, your fingers digging harshly into your lieutenants scalp. The pleasure he was giving you was unlike anything you’d ever experienced before. A burning heat began to fill your insides, as a tingling feeling spread across your abdomen.

You felt yourself clench at the sensation, your thighs tightening around Simon’s head causing him to moan against your soaked core. His eyes lifted to you as he licked a firm strip through your folds, groaning at the taste.

“Simon!” You cried out, your fingers tightening their hold on his hair. “Please, please!”

He gave a hearty chuckle in reply, his fingers and tongue increasing their pace as wet, lewd sounds from his mouth and your pussy filled the air. It was sinful just how fucking good at this he was.

Simon watched as your eyes rolled into the back of your head, your pretty lips parting as you let out a strangled cry of pleasure. The sight was euphoric, and had Simons cock aching.

He needed to be inside that pretty little pussy of yours, but he was a patient man. He wouldn’t give you his cock, not until he made you cum on his tongue first.

He pulled his face away for only a moment, throwing you a small smile as his fingers continued their assault on your core. “You gonna cum, pretty girl? I can feel you clench around my fingers, I know you’re close. Just let go, be a good girl and cum for me.”

You whimpered in reply, the tight feeling in your abdomen only growing at your lieutenants words. You’d never felt this before, never felt so weightless. You allowed yourself to focus on the sensations of Simon’s tongue, as it dragged through your soaked folds, and his fingers, pumping and curling against your walls. “I-I can’t.”

“You can, good girl. Just let go, I’ve got you.” Simon groaned into your heat, his hands squeezing reassuringly at your plush thighs. “Cum, now.”

It was as if an invisible cord snapped in your belly, as a feeling of complete and utter weightlessness filled your body, a pleasant buzz tingling inside your blood. It was unlike anything you’d ever felt. You let out a soft cry, your eyes rolling back into your head as you began to shake against your lieutenants grasp. “Oh, oh my god!”

“Fuck, that’s it. Such a good fucking girl for me.” Simon pulled away from you, his mouth glistening from your arousal. The sight had the pleasant burn in your belly increasing. He looked so fucking hot.

“Simon.” You breathed, struggling to regain your senses. He made his way to you, crawling so that he was now hovering over you, a smile dancing on his lips as he looked down at you.

“You okay, sweetheart?” Simon cooed, pressing a gentle kiss to your sweaty forehead. “You were so fuckin’ good for me.”

You gave a weak nod, not trusting yourself to speak in that moment. You let your eyes flutter open, and found Simon looking at you intently, his lips parted ever so slightly.

You let your eyes flicker down, and saw Simon stroking at his impossibly hard cock. The sight made your mouth water, and had that invisible coil forming in your belly once more.

“You think you’re up for cummin’ again, love?”

#simon riley #smut

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imbadstuff · 4 months

Text

Jason Todd Headcanons

Jason who will move you- whether it be placing a big hand on the small of your back to usher you through a busy crowd, or you're in his way, maybe in the kitchen rambling about something you saw on the news. He will wordlessly pick you up, tired and lethargic with bruised knuckles from the night before, and sit you on the counter. He mumbles something, makes a grunt to let you know to keep talking while one hand smooths up and down the inside of your thigh and the other opens the drawer you were blocking.

Jason who is obviously a theater kid- but if this is living with Bruce, moonlighting as Robin Jason, he'd be discrete. He'd say he needs the class as his obligatory elective and didn't take pottery because he doesn't like getting his hands dirty (lie). He'd sit near the back of the theater, but he'd listen intently, and every poetry assignment he'd turn in would be a work of fucking god. Every project, the teacher would ask him to perform instead of doing the alternative (some paper or poem) and maybe, just maybe, he'll say yes if he's comfortable enough.

Jason who hides food around his apartment and safehouses. Non-perishable, like trail mix, granola bars, little ziplocks of cereal. Dick had cut that habit, made Jason comfortable enough to understand he'll never have to worry, he'll never have to fend for himself by himself. Rising from the lazarus pit as an animated corpse turned everything on its head. The neurotic habits came back. If you're close enough, if he spends enough time at your place, it's likely you'll eventually find a baggie of chex mix sitting on top of your fridge.

Jason who is a barb. I'm not explaining this one, he just is. An honorary member of gag city 🫡

Jason who always has a pack of Marlboro menthols on him. Alternatively, when his lungs are feeling extra gross and he decides he wants to quit, he'll start on zyns again (cool mint ofc). There's usually a zyn tower on his bedside table, teetering right beside the glock 47 he most definitely should put in his gun safe but never will, no matter how many times you tell him

"Jason, what if someone comes in and grabs it?"

"No one-"

"What if it falls and goes off?"

"That won't happen."

Before you can get another word his, large hands turn you to face him, practically suffocated you against his chest, one hand on the back of your head while the other dips low and follows the curve of your spine.

"No one in the world is safer than you right now."

Jason who is extremely invested in TLC (specifically 1,000 pound sisters) and never wastes a chance to tell you how shocked and proud he is of Tammy for finally losing weight- even if she's still a bitch

Jason who loves to buy you things. Usually not too crazy, more like stupid little keychains and stuffed animals to build the militia in your room. But he thinks of you all the time and he can picture the look on your face when he comes back with another stupid surprise. Next thing he knows he's got a turtle or dragon or cat stuffed safely in the inside pocket of his jacket while he threatens a few men with his fists.

"They just gave it to me for free." He shrugs, holding a loving grin as he watches you beam over the fuzzy thing in your hands.

But when your face contorts in something accusatory, he holds his breath.

"What?"

"Were you wearing that?" You look over his costume, the Red Hood, the guns hardly concealed on his sides.

"Yea, why?"

"Dude, you robbed them."

Jason who loves to buy you things, who hardly goes out of his way to hide when he comes into some money (obviously by violent means- but who cares when he's gunning down men who sell drugs to kids. Minor casualty). He'd show up with a purse that's ten times your rent, a bracelet the blinds you when it's under direct light, a dress that he knows you have no place fancy enough to wear it to. If you start to ask questions, he'll distract by any means necessary, like standing behind you to slowly untie your sweatpants or unbutton your jeans, inch off your clothing and let his fingertips dip low so you can really feel the old callouses and scars he knows you love so much, before carefully dressing you in whatever nice thing he'd bought.

******i hardly proofread this sos sorry for the typos if they're there lol lmk if i should make more

#jason todd

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imbadstuff · 4 months

Note

https://x.com/raspb3rry_angel/status/1738593739902255616?s=46&t=dQdAclJh9_X4qFDs38sC_Q

all i see in this gif is price and im losing itshxjdjsjsh OHMYGODDD

btw i love ur work sm!!!

OH U GOT ME GAGGED W THIS ONE HELLO - gif p link

no yea thats price 100%!! im actually tearing down the walls and screaming!!!

!! smut - minors dni; discussions of bondage/choking; D/s; unedited :>

john was the one who asked if it was alright to do it. it being him choking you.

you blinked up at him in shock, minute tremors racking your body as images flashed before your mind: you, bound and helpless, and john, looming over you with his hand wrapped around your neck. because that had been the natural assumption – john’s beautiful hands, aged and scarred but so, so big and wide choking you.

so you said yes, breathless yourself. and john, beautiful and ragged john, smiled and reached forward to brush your hair away from your face. you were acutely aware of the size of his hand against your cheek, and you feel floaty, too hyper-focused on the way it feels so close to your pressure point.

then, john decided he had to ruin you even more because within the next heartbeat, he whispered, “you’ll look so good in leather,” before standing up to leave. you gaped at his words in surprise, body freezing, but john did not elaborate nor put whatever he meant into action.

until now, that is.

your front is pressed flushed against the mattress, john’s weight bearing down on you from behind. his hands are tight around your wrists, gripping as he humps his cock in your cunt, rutting so deeply, making your toes curl.

you mewl and sob, arching back to try and match his pace, but john changes the rhythm and throws you off the loop again. he clicks his tongue, faux disappointment tinging his voice. “what happened to bein’ my good girl?”

there’s a shuffle as he changes position, his knees locking in place as he rises up. it makes his cock slide out, gradual and teasing, and you whimper when it finally pops out.

john fists the fat of your ass, an appreciative grunt rumbling from the base of his throat, before landing smacks on your skin, the sound reverberating like gunshots. you squeal, trying to dodge away from the weight of his hand, but john only chuckles, a sound that curls with something a little mean, spanking you countless more times until pain and pleasure bleeds together.

“john!” you hiccup, arching away from him, but john chases you with his bulk. with his cock – the fat of it sliding back so deeply in you.

“shh,” he says when you gasp, your head falling back down to the sheets. “y’r doin’ so good for me, love.”

the sound of fabric crinkling echoes beside you. you try to twist, to see what it is he’s doing, but his cock slides in harder, hitting deeper, and you collapse to your front with a gasp. john lets out a pleased rasp, doing it again – a slow glide out and a rushed thrust in – milking out more choked sobs from you.

open-mouthed breaths pass through your gritted teeth and you arch your back, hoping that john does it faster, feeling your orgasm peaking, ready to spill over.

a snap of leather rings through from the back of your head before something wraps around your neck, looping with measured ease. there is a heartbeat, a moment of stuttered breath between you and john, before he is pulling.

it’s his fucking belt, you realized.

you mewl, unable to escape the restraint, feeling the leather digging into your throat. it hurts. it feels good. it-

john arches his cock, hitting somewhere deeper. kissing somewhere more sensitive.

fuckfuckfuck-

#john price #smut

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imbadstuff · 4 months

Text

You fall first, but Simon falls much, much harder.

He doesn't realize he's falling - not at first. At first, he's not even sure he understands what it means to love another person romantically. He's never experienced it. He's had crushes and flashbulb infatuations, but he's never really been in love.

Until you.

Simon isn't sure how, nor is he sure when, but you managed to worm your way into his ribcage. Past his carefully-constructed façade and right in front of his open, bleeding heart that he's spent decades hiding.

And the realization hits him like a goddamn freight train when he's alone on watch one night. Thinking about where you were, if you were alright, if you missed him as much as he missed you in that moment.

He knows then. He won't admit it just yet - not even to himself - but he knows. He knows he'd crawl out of the grave all over again, dirt under his nails and blood in his teeth, if that's what it took to make it home to you.

(Or, to put it another way: you fall first, in the sense that you're the first to admit it to yourself. Simon falls harder, in the sense that he realizes out of the blue one day that if he does not get to kiss you within the hour, he's going to start biting people).

#simon ghost riley

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imbadstuff · 4 months

Text

thinking about laying beside simon on the bed, your head resting on his shoulder while his hands held a book that you had gifted him, his eyes fixed on the text.

your fingers absentmindedly traced over the scars on his chest, letting your soft fingertips draw over the rough sunken skin of the healed gashes — a painful story written in each of them. and you wanted to read it all, read every scar and cut, kiss all of it, absorb it so you could share it with him — a connection only you’d ever have with him.

your fingers slowly found their way to his stomach, hand caressing the muscles that had softened up ever since he had come home from deployment, your eyes noticing the stretch marks starting on the sides of his tummy that you adored so much. pale lines adorning his skin, urging you to probe them too, your hand touching him so gently — an angel soothing a wounded soldier.

simon is gorgeous, too gorgeous. he never seemingly saw it the way you did. “you’re so pretty…” you lazily whispered, pressing a soft kiss on his shoulder.

you were the warmth his cold heart sought, the fire that melted him, the sun that gave his moon the light he never thought he’d see. he needed you in the way a man needed a god, in a way a plant yearned for water. and you were happy to give it all to him, everything for your sweet simon.

“you tryin’ to tickle me, love?” his gruff voice broke you out of your trance, your eyes finding his which were no longer looking at the book, an intrigued grin playing on his lips that made you giggle heartedly and give his stomach some pats.

“maybe.”

#simon ghost riley

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imbadstuff · 4 months

Note

for ghost i feel like he is that type of a guy that gives unnecessary logical answer to “would you love me if i was a worm? 🥺👉👈” smth like

“wtf? no? why would i be in love with an insect??”

and then be stressing and doesn’t know what to do with himself after that made you cry 😁 haha silly emotionally constipated man 🤭

okay this actually made me laugh out loud

Ghost definitely doesn't recognise it as a meme, doesn't understand the significance of what you're asking, barely even glances over at you.

"You wouldn't be you if you were a worm." He grunts without looking up.

You pout, obviously unhappy with that answer, but he doesn't actually look up to catch it.

"That's not what you're supposed to say."

There's a brief flicker of movement under his mask, and you realise that he's shut his eyes in his usual show of praying for patience. It's an action that he usually reserves for whenever Soap is in one of his particularly hyper moods. You can't help but feel as though he's being dramatic right now - it's a simple question.

"There's a right answer to this?" He asks, cutting a glance towards you out of the corner of his eye. You can read the doubt in the slant of his shoulders, as though he's trying to assess whether you're actually upset about his response.

"Yes." You huff. "You're meant to say that you'd look after me in a little jar, or carry me around in your pocket."

Even through the mask, you can tell that he's staring at you in disbelief.

"You want me to carry around a worm in my pocket?"

"No!" You snap defensively. "It would be me. In... in worm form."

Another pause.

"But you're not a worm." He says, pedantic to the point of infuriating you.

"You're meant to use your imagination, Simon." You say, a little snippier than intended. You're irritated; you had thought this conversation might go differently.

He's staring at you like he's trying to read your thoughts right off your face. He's a tough man to read, but even still he's managing to broadcast his bewilderment loud and clear, despite the mask.

You hiss out a frustrated breath, then turn around and curl up where you're sitting on the couch. Typical.

"Don't know why I bother." You grumble under your breath.

You're not even really sure what you were expecting. Ghost has never been the most demonstratively romantic of men, but you've never doubted that he cares deeply for you. It's all in the little things; the way he gravitates towards you, the way his eyes seek you out, the way he stands in the way of you and the world at every opportunity. He's always touching you, fingers questing beneath your shirts just so he can rub the pads of his fingers against your hips, stroking the small of your back, tapping fondly at your ass when you walk by him.

But you don't think you can be blamed for wanting to hear a little romantic confession from him.

You've just about given up on the conversation when Ghost's low voice speaks up again.

"I suppose you could live in the compost." He mumbles. "Make yourself useful."

You glance over your shoulder just to shoot him a nasty look.

"I'd... I could bring you your favourite fruits." He's clearly struggling with what to day, though he does a good job of hiding it. He's always so self-assured, and to see him fighting to put words together for damage control is honestly a little satisfying.

"Would you build me a special terrarium?" You ask, mostly just to be a dick.

You can see Ghost's eyes narrow as he steps towards you, the big bulk of him throwing a shadow over you as he settles down next to you. He looms over you, one arm thrown round the back of the sofa, and leans even closer so that he's close to your ear.

"If that's what you want." He says. It sounds almost like a cop-out, except you can hear the undercurrent of truth in his voice.

Your stomach warms, and you can't fight the smile that spreads across your face as you lean into his big broad chest. One arm wraps around you, bicep flexing, and his relief that you're no longer pouting over your silly little question is palpable.

"You could eat me, and then I could live in your intestines and we could share all of your food." You mutter, pressing your face in between the swell of his pecs.

There's a moment of silence, and you bite your lip as you wait for his response. Even with your face pressed into his chest and his expression hidden by his mask, you can only imagine the wry look on his face as he thinks over your ridiculous statement. You half-expect him to tell you to fuck off, but he's infinitely patient with you. His fingers trail down the length of your spine, the rough callouses on his fingertips scraping pleasantly along your sensitive skin.

"I could put you on a hook and go fishing-"

"Simon-!" You shriek in protest and push at his chest, but it's cut off by his low rumbling laugh as he pushes his mask up roughly so that he can lean in and shut you up with a kiss.

#simon ghost riley

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imbadstuff · 4 months

Text

down bad simon may look a little like this

You've stepped outside for some fresh air so when Simon walks out a few minutes after you and lights up a cigarette, your face immediately scrunches up in disgust.

He catches your expression. "Not a fan of smoking?"

"Came out for some fresh air."

"Hm, seems like more than that." He muses, turning his head away to blow out some smoke.

"I just think it's gross."

He's silent for a few moments and you think maybe he's offended even, but then he turns back to you and clears his throat.

"That one of your deal breakers then?"

"Deal brea—yeah. It is. Don't think I could bring myself to even kiss a smoker. Why? You interested?" You joke, expecting a laugh and dismissal of the conversation.

He immediately throws his cigarette on the ground and snuffs it out with his shoe, then walks over to the bin and pulls the half-full carton out of his pocket and throws it and his lighter out. Just like that. He walks back over to stand in front of you, his large hand coming up to rest on your cheek, an intensity simmering in his dark eyes as he looks at you.

"Yes."

#simon ghost riley

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imbadstuff · 4 months

Note

Price brainrot go

Price w/ a breeding kink, but he actually knows what he's doing. Like he knows the most optimal ways to get a girl pregnant. Knows all the tricks from what he feeds his lil wife (and himself), to the best position. Is very much aware that a woman is most fertile right before an orgasm, so he makes her hold it until after he shoots his load, and keeps edging her for a few more minutes bc "it'll take better this way" and he just doesn't wanna leave anything to risk :)

SUPER smug when the test a week or so after is immediately positive lmao

(afab!reader, mdni 18+)

oh, price for SURE is someone who knows when you're ovulating. keeps track of it in his calendar so he knows when it's prime fucking time

you feel like he hits a little deeper than usual. it's probably the position that you're in where he's got your hips lifted up so you're nearly perpendicular to the bed. price holds your hips up so high that you don't need a pillow under your back. he grunts with exertion, you think from the way he's been holding you up for so long. in reality it's because he's fucking into you so hard that he aims to hit deeper.

needs to make sure that his tip is right against your cervix so he can flood that womb, paint your insides with his seed. he'll want to fuck you until he's sure that it takes. so you better know that you're in for it, would probably pull a couple orgasms out of him and even more out of you.

but just like you said, anon! he'll make you hold it in. shushes you when you're crying from how deep he hits, how hard he fucks you so your tits are bouncing so prettily. he's excited to see those get full too when they're nearly bursting with milk. takes a hand to slap one to watch it jiggle, kneads it like he's prepping it before it'll get swollen n full.

"shh, shh, love. i know you wanna cum. hold it in for me, jus' a little longer, alrigh'?" he grunts as he plows into you. "you cum when i say you can."

he's so selfish in the way he throws his head back and just keeps thrusting into you with no abandon. can feel yourself clenching around him so tight as he abuses that aching pussy with his cock. for the first time in a while it's him who is going to cum first, because he decides it so. isn't focused on you cumming in the slightest. wants the exact opposite. you think he's punishing you cruelly but he knows what's best! you'll thank him later, trust me.

folds you in half and squats over you so he can just plunge his cock into you up n down. loves seeing the way you spread out for him and how those pussylips spread around his girth. makes his dick twitch at the thought of pumping you full with his kids.

"yea? wanna give me a baby?" he growls out. "wanna get so pumped full of my seed that you feel it for days? hm?" oh, sweet girl. you don't know even the half of it.

you just throw your head back and unashamedly moan out when he fucks you. fucks you. you jolt when he suddenly cums into you without a proper warning. feel it so hot and sticky inside that you nearly cum yourself. but he slaps at your ass and stills his hips so you're left hanging. even though his dick is still inside it's not enough!

it's so unfair, so unfair, so unfair!!! you need him to keep fucking into you. just a little! and then you'll cum! please, please, please. you want it so bad. but he smirks down at you so evilly. waits for your pussy to stop squeezing him so tight so he knows that you've been taken away from yet another orgasm. he hushes your sobs by grinding deep into you. it stimulates you so much because you feel so full. the angle he holds your hips prevents it from leaking out properly, so him stirring his thick cock in your cunt is what pushes the cum in and out.

price just rolls his hips into yours without thrusting at all. just mixes his cock inside and stimulates that clit with his pelvis, the hairs on his happy trail scratching at it. he'll start thrusting again soon, he promises. will start fucking you again in a bit. but for now he needs to keep mixing his sticky cum inside your pussy. wants to hear how wet it is now that he's fucked it all sloppy.

"jus' take it like this. gotta push my cum in there to make more space for another load. you can take it, my pretty girl. gonna make you a mama. after that i'll let you cum as many times as ya want."

#john price #smut

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imbadstuff · 5 months

Text

“Choke me.”

Simon’s brain nearly short circuited at your words, and he looked down at you with furrowed brows, his cock still nestled deep within you. “What?”

“I said choke me, please.” You whined, your eyes locked on your lover as he slowed the movements of his hips. “Been wanting it so bad, Si.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.” Simon said softly, leaning his forehead against yours. His eyes drifted down toward your neck, which was littered with soft bruises he’d left with his teeth earlier that night. His breath hitched in his throat at the sight, his mouth watering with the urge to add to the marks.

“Please, Si, you won’t hurt me. I trust you.” You pleaded, pouting your bottom lip out just the way you knew he liked.

Your eyes were pleading, and Simon felt a warmth spreading in his belly. He fucking loved when you begged him. “You tell me if it’s too much, got it?”

You gave a firm nod, your pussy clenching around your husband’s thick length in anticipation. You leaned your head further back into the pillow, showing off your neck to your Simon.

His hand loosely found the base of your throat, his fingers lightly wrapping around it. He watched as your eyes fluttered shut, and heard a soft moan emit from your lips.

His fingers tightened their grip, putting just enough pressure to have your mouth falling open slightly, and Simon would by lying if he said the sight didn’t cause his cock to twitch inside of you.

“Fuck.” He groaned, feeling you tighten around him once more. He couldn’t remove his eyes from the sight of his hand around your throat. It felt wrong, seeing how huge his hand was, covering nearly your entire throat- but fuck, did it do something to him.

You were completely under his command, and he could feel your pulse quicken from beneath his fingers. You were completely his, to do with what he wanted. He tightened his grip just a bit more, feeling you slightly gasp at the force.

He picked up the movement of his hips, his cock sliding in and out of you with ease. You let out a strangled moan, and Simon could feel it against the palm of his hand. The feeling of the vibrations against his hand had a moan of his own slipping from his lips.

“You’re so fuckin’ naughty, you know that?” Simon panted, struggling not to close his eyes from how tightly you were clenching around his length. “My dirty girl, likes to be choked yeah? Likes to have her man’s fingers around her throat while he fucks her?”

He could feel you whine again, and it nearly made him feral. It unlocked a primal urge within Simon he didn’t even know he had. You looked so small underneath him, so innocent, so submissive.

It made him want to ruin you.

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

A/N: for some reason my brain is running dry on kinks to write- please spam me with kinks😭😭

#simon ghost riley #smut

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imbadstuff · 5 months

Text

restroom attendant | jason todd

Summary: Tonight is the worst night ever--you just got dumped on your birthday, and all you want to do is cry in the restaurant bathroom in peace. That is, until, the Red Hood bursts in. This city just won't cut you a break.

Pairing: Jason Todd x fem!reader

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings/tags: humor, mild angst, reader's ex-bf cheats and dumps her, jason is such a silly goose, flirting, meet ugly, canon-typical violence, awkward jason, comic relief dick grayson.

A/N: this is probably the silliest fic i've ever written LOL! i hope you guys enjoy it. please support your local jason todd enthusiast and reblog :)

the divider

Tonight sucks.

With a shaky hand, you attempt to soothe your swollen eyes. You’ve probably been in here for about twenty minutes. Your Uber has definitely left, as has your now ex-boyfriend of three years.

Yoga instructor. It’s always the yoga instructor. They’re always fucking the yoga instructor.

You swallow a mouthful of tears and phlegm and try not to let the wet sink touch your dress. All you’d wanted was a little class on your birthday, maybe have some wine and play footsie under the table with your boyfriend. But no. That would’ve been too easy for you.

You’re starting to think this city is cursed.

The door slams open. The force of it shakes the bathroom, rattles the mirrors. You spin around.

A man slides across the floor and smacks his head on one of the opposite wall. Red Hood appears in the doorway, the eyes of his helmet glowing eerily.

Yep. Definitely cursed.

"Let's try this again," Hood says pleasantly, reloading his gun with a fresh magazine. "And in the interest of making myself transparent: when I ask you a question, Jerry, I expect a truthful answer."

He stalks over to Jerry and heaves him up by the lapels of his suit jacket. Hood's biceps bulge as he holds Jerry against the wall. You squish yourself against the sink. Water soaks the back of your dress.

"You're crazy, I didn't do anything!" Jerry shouts, feet barely scraping the floor.

"Volume, Jerry. People are trying to enjoy their meals.”

“Let go of me, Hood! I wasn’t anywhere near the Iceberg Lounge!”

“Yeah, see, words are coming outta your mouth, but they don't match the fact that I have three people who put you at the scene. How can we remedy this inconsistency? Any ideas?"

Jerry squirms, but he's no match for Hood's strength. Your heart pounds in your chest.

"Don't give me to the cops!" Jerry begs.

"Cops are the least of your worries right now," Hood snarls. "You're damn lucky Nightwing wants to talk to you, Jerry, or your head would hurt a lot more."

Slowly, you reach for your purse, trying to pull out your phone. Instead, you knock it to the floor. Tears gather in your eyes because this night just can’t cut you a break.

“Motherfucker,” you whisper.

Hood turns, those frightening white eyes now on you. Jerry also looks at you, legs still dangling.

“Hey,” Hood says without a sign of struggle. “Shit. Y'alright? Did I swipe ya?”

“No,” you say, voice shaky.

His posture softens. “Okay. I’m not gonna hurt you. Don’t be afraid.”

“I believe you. But, um… you're in the women's bathroom.”

Red Hood gives the room a onceover.

“Huh. So we are. Dunno how that happened.” He shakes Jerry by the collar. “Why’d you run into the women’s bathroom, asshole?”

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Don't kill me!” Jerry wails.

“Shut it, Jesus. I'm not gonna kill you. Not yet, anyway.”

“It's fine, I was just leaving,” you say, bending down to get your purse.

“Hey, no, don't let me push you out,” Hood says. “Sorry. I'll be gone in a couple minutes.”

Hood adjusts his grip so Jerry's face is against the wall, arms and legs restrained. Then he zipties Jerry and sits him down hard on the floor. Hood presses a button on his helmet.

“Yo, N, I'm at Prescott's. Yeah, with Jerry. No, I didn't tell him to run in here, he did that all on his own! Well, I chased him for ten blocks, so I’d prefer if you’d keep your bitching to yourself. Thank you… Okay, we're in the women's bathroom, so—well, I didn't do it on purpose! No, I’m—will you just come here? There’s a side window.” Hood presses the button again with a grunt. “Dickhead.”

“Are you gonna erase my memory?” you ask.

Hood jerks, turning back to you.

“What? Hell no, I'm not gonna erase your memory. I don't do that shit, I promise.”

You slump against the sink. “That's too bad. I would prefer it.”

He looks up from Jerry’s last ziptie and pulls it extra tight. Jerry whimpers.

“How come?” Hood asks.

You shake your head. “It's nothing.”

“Hm. Doesn't look like nothing. If you're in danger—”

“I'm not in danger. I…”

You glance at Hood. You can't see his face, but his body language seems genuine. From what you've heard, Hood isn't known for mincing words or doing things he doesn't want to. And he’s good to Gothamites. Well, the law-abiding ones, anyway. He’s even been endorsed by Batman.

What's the harm in telling him about your disastrous night? Not like you'll see him again. Or Jerry.

“I got dumped,” you say.

“Ah.” Hood nods. “Been there.”

Somehow, the idea of Red Hood getting dumped is weirder than him beating up a guy in the women’s bathroom of Prescott’s.

You sniffle, and wipe your eyes with the back of your hand.

“Yeah, um. It was our three year anniversary today. He took me here, told me he was in love with his yoga instructor, and then left.”

You tear up thinking about it. Hood makes a quiet noise.

“Shit. Well, I haven't been there,” he says. “But I know infidelity. I'm sorry. Dudes are trash.”

“And it's my birthday today,” you blurt, sniffling.

“Happy birthday,” Jerry says, clutching his stomach.

“What a fucking asshole!” Hood snarls, and lets go of Jerry, who crumples like a sack of potatoes. He’s out cold in a second, frozen on the floor.

Your brows rise. “Is he okay?”

“He’s fine. It’s his first time in Gotham.” Hood shrugs. “Anyway, where was I? Right, your asshole ex. Like it's not enough to publicly dump you, and then he goes and does it on your birthday? Who is this guy? I'll go talk to him right now.”

You laugh a loud, snorting laugh. It bounces off the tiles.

Hood tilts his head. “What’d I say?”

You catch your breath and wave your hand.

“No, nothing, I’m sorry. I’ve just had a crappy night and that’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever offered to me.”

“I mean it,” Hood says. “I’ll scare him if you want.”

“As tempting as that is, I don’t want to be an accessory to a crime.”

You also don’t want to put your ex in the ICU, no matter how much he might deserve it. Best to let the universe do its thing.

“You’d be acquitted, don’t worry.” Hood leans against the stall. “I’d never letcha go to jail.”

You smile, your ears growing warm. “You don’t even know me. What if I deserve it?”

“Nah. I got a good sense about people. I can tell you’re sweet. Probably don’t even run through red lights.”

“I try not to,” you say, heat spreading to your face.

“Yeah, a good girl. I figured as much.”

Your eyes widen. Hood coughs and rubs his neck. Even his coughs sound intimidating through the helmet, but that’s negated by his scrunched-up posture.

“Fuck. Sorry. That wasn’t a come-on,” he says. “I mean, it sounded like one, but I’m realizing what a creep I am, flirting with you in a bathroom with a zip-tied criminal. Sorry.” He shakes his head. “I hate myself.”

You grin. “It’s okay. You made my night better, actually. Thanks.”

“That’s a testament to how terrible your night’s been if I made it better.”

You shrug. “Could always be worse. I bet Jerry had an even shittier night than me.”

“You’d win that bet. But I—”

The window swings open with a clunk. Nightwing pops his head in. He looks at Hood, then you.

“Uh,” he says. “Evening. What’s going on?”

“What’s going on is it took you almost ten minutes to get here,” Hood says, back in Vigilante Mode. “Did you get lost?”

Nightwing smiles with all his teeth. “I was actually cleaning up your mess at the Bowery, Hood. You’re welcome.”

He looks at you. “Hi. Sorry about this. I hope we didn’t ruin your night. If there’s anything we can reimburse you for…”

You shake your head. “It’s okay. My night was already sunk. Don’t worry about it. Thanks for keeping Gotham safe.”

Nightwing laughs. “The pleasure is ours.”

“Alright, enough chattering, Dickwing,” Hood says. “Take him.”

He lifts the unconscious Jerry, pushing him up to the window. He does so effortlessly, his jacket riding up to reveal his skin-tight jumpsuit.

You look away before he catches you staring. There’s definitely something wrong with you.

Nightwing takes Jerry and waves at you. Then he disappears.

“So, uh,” Hood says. “I gotta go.”

“Oh! Right, of course. Sorry to keep you.”

“Now what’re you apologizing for?” he asks, and it almost sounds like a tease. You wonder what his smile looks like. What color his eyes are.

“Well, I really didn’t mean to keep you…”

“You didn’t keep me,” Hood says, and you can hear the warmth even through his decoder. “This is probably the best arrest I’ve ever made.”

He starts to climb through the window, then stops. He digs into one of the pockets of his belt and pulls out a scrap of paper.

“This is my number,” he says. “Well, it’s kind of the vigilante hotline. But you can reach me here, in case you ever need help.”

Hood walks over to give it to you. He smells like gunpowder and oranges. He’s even larger this close, the width of his shoulders dwarfing you.

“Thank you,” you say quietly.

He nods and backs up, clapping his hands.

“Right. So I’ll go… Bye.”

Hood looks at you for a moment more. Then he hops up onto the window sill and slides out, somehow graceful despite his bulk. The window closes.

Your dress has dried, which is nice. You walk out of the bathroom. It’s a miracle no one else has come in.

You get your coat and this time, when you see the empty seat across from yours, you don’t burst into tears, which is progress. You call another Uber and go to wait for it at the front. The hostess approaches you.

“Ma’am?” she says, and holds out a small, plastic container. In it is a slice of tiramisu.

“I didn’t order this,” you say.

“It was called in and paid for by a Mr. R.H. He wishes you a happy birthday.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

You’re definitely leaving a five-star review on Yelp.

#jason todd

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