nalilvsjaybird - Tumblr blog

[nalilvsjaybird]

[nalilvsjaybird]

petrichor

[nalilvsjaybird]

idk if i could ever date jason because i want the batfam DEAD even the butler isn't safe. you cannot convince me that batman looked for jason while he was getting tortured because it was so obvious where he was

You and me both, anon 😪

(Jay feeling the same way as us in AK: Genesis #3)

[nalilvsjaybird]

window pains | jason todd

Summary: He's got a habit of coming in through the window. You want him to start staying... and using the door. 

Pairing: Jason Todd x gn!reader 

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings/tags: injured Jason Todd (he's okay dw), angst, pining, mentions of Jason's death.

A/N: sooo.... i guess i'm a dc girlie now. just a reminder that every character i write will always be 18+!!! this is probably canon divergent but we make our own canon.

If you like this fic and want to see more, please let me know through reblogs ♡

the divider

"Can't you enter my apartment like a normal person?"

"You know who you're talking to, right?"

"You're getting blood on my carpet, Todd."

It doesn't really matter. He'll come back and scrub it out as soon as his ribs are whole. And fuck if he's not good at getting blood out of surfaces. Jason Todd ought to start a housekeeping column. 

You catch his limp as he climbs over the windowsill. It almost topples him, but he gets to the couch before it does. He doesn't make a sound. 

That had freaked you out the first few times he'd stumbled through your window. Once, he came with part of a windshield wiper impaled in his shoulder. He'd lain on your couch so still and so quiet, you'd thought Red Hood had croaked in your apartment. Which would not have been a good look for you. Or maybe it would. Depends on who you ask. 

Sometimes you want to tell him to make sounds. To hiss and grunt and complain. To grab your wrist so you'll slow down as you pull thread through flesh. 

But it's not your place to request such a thing. You don't know where you reside in Jason Todd's life, but it's not somewhere where you can request to hear him hurt. 

Outwardly, his injuries aren't bad-looking. He takes off his helmet and tosses it somewhere under the coffee table. You offer a hand to help him lie down on the couch—he doesn't take it. 

"Jesus Christ, Jay." You suck in a sharp breath and peel back his bloody suit. "What'd you do?"

"Took a midnight stroll in the Botanical Gardens. Why, what'd you do?"

You frown, eyebrows pinching in the center of your forehead. Jason's stomach is mottled with purple and red bruises. There's a sticky gash right above his hip. A knife. Or a sword, maybe. Apparently, swords are commonplace in Gotham. 

"How'd they get you?" you ask. 

It's a rule-break. Jason's number one policy: don't ask questions.

You always do. Even when it was new, this… thing between you two, you'd ask. Who were they? Why did they hurt you? Did you hurt them back?

The last one, you always know the answer to. 

"There were, like, ten of them," he says. "Cut me some slack, will ya?" 

He has a cut across his lips. A ringed finger that caught on his skin, you guess. You wonder if he'd wince if you kissed him. If he'd wince at the pain or the kiss itself. If you'd know the difference. 

Rage suddenly cuts through you. It makes your hands careless, cruel; you pull the bandage around his waist too tight. Jason coils up slightly. 

"Jesus—ever heard of bedside manner?" he asks, looking at you through his lashes. 

"Ever heard of not breaking into someone's apartment and making them patch you up?"

"I don't make you," Jason says easily. "You wouldn't do it if you didn't want to."

That only increases your rage. Because he's right. You wouldn't be here if you didn't want to be. You'd have kicked him out four first aid kits ago if you minded. 

You yank down his shirt and pack up the kit. Jason shifts on the couch. A sliver of skin above his waistband is still exposed. You have to turn your head to force your gaze away. 

"No bandaids?" he asks. "All my cuts'll be exposed to the elements."

"You can put them on yourself." 

His cheek could use one. And his eyebrow. You're not in the mood. 

Jason doesn't say anything in response to that. You get up to put the kit back under the sink. 

"Can I crash here?" 

"Do what you want," you say, suddenly exhausted. Like it's you who just went six rounds with Gotham's scumbags.

You peek over the kitchen counter when you hear rustling and the couch springs squeak. Jason leans heavily on the arm of the couch, reaching for the window. You walk over and stand in front of him. 

"What're you doing?" you ask. 

"You want me to go," he says flatly. "So I'm going."

"I didn't say that, I said—"

"I can read between the lines." 

"If you could read between the lines as well as you think you can, we wouldn't be in this situation," you say. 

"What situation?"

You turn your head. "Nothing."

Jason steps towards the window. You block him again. 

"What is the matter with you?" you ask. "You're injured. Lie down."

"I'm not your responsibility," he says, glaring. "I'm leaving."

"No, you're not. And since you're allergic to using the door, you don't have a choice."

Jason's eyebrow rises. "Are you saying you'd physically prevent me from leaving?"

You lift your chin. "If that's what it takes."

"Hm. Can't tell if your confidence is stupid or brave."

"Lie the fuck down, Todd."

His lip curls. "I don't stay where I'm not welcome."

Sometimes you forget how young he is. Not that you're not also young, but, well… you don't feel your youth as acutely as other people your age might. It's something you two have in common. 

Here, in the gritty glow of Gotham, you are reminded that Jason Todd died once. Before he finished school. Before he fell in love. 

Your stomach churns every time you see that Y-shaped scar on his torso, strapped over him like a chain. 

"I didn't say that you're not welcome," you say. 

"Yeah, well, you didn't have to."

He sags against the couch and it occurs to you that he's as exhausted as you feel. 

"Can you just—" You touch his bicep. He winces even though there's no injury there. "Can you just lie down?" 

You stare at each other for another minute. Slowly, Jason lays down. His eyes are alert instead of heavy with sleep. Instantly, you feel guilty for making him think he has to be cautious around you. His hand curls protectively over his stomach. 

"Do you want a blanket?" you ask. 

He squints. "It's August."

"I know, I… I thought maybe the blood loss made you cold." 

"'M fine. Perks of being risen from the dead." 

You watch him get settled for a minute. He shifts his weight to his uninjured side and meets your gaze. His eyes are gray in the weak light. 

"You're tired of me," he says. 

Your head snaps up. "No, I'm not."  

"You are."

"I'm not tired of you, Jay."

You see it. The fear. He thinks this is the last time you'll let him in. He doesn't know you can't lock him out. You won't. 

You get up and go to get the kit from the sink again. Jason follows your movement the whole time. His face scrunches in confusion when you sit in front of the couch and unzip the kit. 

You pull out the tiny red bandaids. You'd bought them as a joke, initially. It had made Jason laugh and that had been reason enough to keep buying them. And then he let you actually put them on.

You peel the adhesive off of one and gently stick it on his cheek. He blinks at you, thick, dark lashes kissing the corners of his eyes. 

"I'm not tired of you," you say softly. 

"I'd be tired of me." 

"You keep this city safe. How could I be tired of Gotham's defender?"

Jason scowls and turns his head into the cushion before you can put the second bandaid.  

"I'm not its defender. The others protect this city a hundred times better. Nightwing does it with a smile on his face."

"I like that you go out there even when it's hard, Jay," you say. 

He doesn't respond. You lean in, so close that you can count the freckles on his neck. 

"Can I finish putting the bandaids on?" you ask. 

"I don't need 'em."

"You do. You need another on your forehead."

"It'll heal fine without it."

Your shoulders bunch like a cat on defense. You grab his cheek (gently, always gently) and his head whips to yours in surprise. 

"Jason Todd, I am not tired of you. I'm tired of the fact that you only come by when you need fixing."

He scowls. "I never asked you to fix me. If you want me to leave, I'll leave."

"I don't want you to leave, I want you to stay!" you burst. 

Jason scoffs. "No, you don’t. I'll overstay my welcome real fast."

"Maybe I care about you on purpose!" you say, voice rising. "Maybe I didn't stumble through a window; maybe I walked through the door and bought the bandaids and learned how to stitch wounds because I wanted to."

He suddenly looks overcome by grief. The agony in his face startles you. 

"I don't know how to use the door anymore," he says quietly. "All I do is stumble through windows."

Your hand slips off of his cheek. Jason closes his eyes; they fly open when you stick the second bandaid above his eyebrow. 

"You can come in any way you want to," you say, face an inch away from his. "As long as you come back to me."

His gaze darts to your mouth. You don't kiss him hard. He breaks anyway.

You avoid the right side of his mouth entirely, not wanting to pull at his cut. Jason shudders into your mouth. You cup his pulse through his neck and it quickens.

His eyes are wet when you pull away. His chest heaves like he's been swinging through the city. 

"I wanna try to use the door," he says. 

You touch the bandaid on his cheek, humming. 

"Then I'll leave it unlocked." 

[nalilvsjaybird]

[nalilvsjaybird]

sigh... sweet dreams

[nalilvsjaybird]

jason who physically cannot get soft after one orgasm post-lazarus pit and who is MORTIFIED every time it happens because he feels so bad that he needs more than one orgasm to finish. whenever he jacks off, he has to come a minimum of three times out of frustration and humiliation because the first and second aren't enough, and by the time jason's done, his stomach and thighs are covered in thick cum.

[nalilvsjaybird]

color experiments and studies w/ Red hood

[nalilvsjaybird]

[nalilvsjaybird]

YJ inspired Jason I stare at you

[nalilvsjaybird]

thighs grrrrr

[nalilvsjaybird]

Happy birthday Jason you are genuinely one of the most interesting characters I’ve ever seen. Anyway DC hand him over i could treat him RIGHT

[nalilvsjaybird]

Not A Good Boy 🎃🤦🔴

When your new dad is disappointed in you so you decide to swtich teams again. 🤷‍♀️

I wanted to try and jump on this trend, but naturally Im late to it! And I wanted to keep it loose and sketchy since Ive been getting too caught up in details with my works and getting anxious. But I had fun, so enjoy this little doodle!

[nalilvsjaybird]

still like these ones

[nalilvsjaybird]

tired

[nalilvsjaybird]

Jason thoughts with reader

unlike dick, he NEEDS PDA. just hold onto his arm, hand , ( may make a post on this specifically if u guys want?) . will randomly come behind you and place his head on your shoulder and glare at whoever stole your attention from him. will make u sit on his lap, will makeout with you ( but will hide you from public view Ex. have u pressed against a wall while he kisses you his tall frame hiding you from view) Refuses to leave you even for a second, hates being with other people when u guys can just be alone together.

wants to do childish stuff with you or likes it when u make him do childish stuff. acting like kids in love, running around being free and happy and together . he never rlly had all that before meeting you .

stares...a lot. after a long crime fighting night he is sitting on the kitchen stool watching u make your morning coffee and he just feels so warm and in love ...its like chocking on sunshine. He gets so overwhelmed by it he just needs to look away for a second to pull himself together. He wont ever tell you why he is staring ..may make a stupid quip like " just wondering why your face so weird" " weren't you just quoting me poetry on how my face rivals heavens last night jay?" "no shutup ur delusional".

Which brings me to - playful roasting. oh god he will roast u all the time but you can always tell he is joking. has that stupid smirk and even a small stutter sometimes. Cause he wanted to tell you he loves when u hug him and it may just heal him but instead he says " Le-leave me you si-silly uh MONKEY..yea monkey" but he is holding you so tight and blushing like crazy.

doesn't sexually tease you, straight up says the most vulgar things very randomly like " damn this dressing table looks nice, we could get a mirror too so that I can see your tits as I fuck you from behind on this thing " at a home depot. does not care where you guys are. does not blush, does not smile its like he is straight up listing facts.

Jason blushes a lot . catch him off guard and he is red as a tomato

you guys seem to really prefer jason over dick and the other characters..sad sort of I like writing dick a lot .

[nalilvsjaybird]

a/n: repost from a deleted side blog!! wanted to make a new account but got confused.

“Jay?”

Jason perks up to the sound of your voice.

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Do you mind helping me get the back?”

He turns in your direction and his breath hitches. You’re studying yourself in the vanity, frowning slightly at your reflection. The back of your dress hangs open, framing the slope of your spine and the gleam of soft skin under the bathroom light. He walks towards you, slowly and reverently. One strong hand steadies itself softly against the small of your back, the other pulling up the zipper carefully. The silken fabric rests snug against your back and he exhales, breathless.

“Thanks, babe.”

He kisses your cheek, threading his arms around your waist and meeting your gaze in the mirror. You worry your lip mindlessly between your teeth.

“Do you think it’s okay?” He considers your reflection, eyes soft and hazy with affection. “You’re beautiful,” he murmurs.

Your cheeks warm at his answer, simple and honest. The intensity of his gaze is almost overwhelming with its intent to commit you to memory. He always regards you like you’re not quite real, too good to be true. Your hand cups his face as you press a kiss to his cheek, gentle and grounding.

I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.