oncasette - Tumblr blog

oncasette · 1 day ago

Text

most normal thing in the world | jason todd

Summary: You get hit with a love spell. Naturally, the first person you seek out is Jason Todd.

Pairing: Jason Todd x gn!reader

Word count: 4.5k

Warnings/tags: love spell (so potentially mild dubious consent but all the feelings are reciprocated), lovesick you, lovesick jason, repressed jason, LOTS of cuddling/lovie stuff, needles, magic, pining, happy ending.

the divider

Jason's having a good night.

He made himself an indulgent lasagna, and now he's got leftovers for tomorrow. He's off from patrol tonight, which, he must admit, was nice of Cass to offer.

Yeah, Jason actually feels pretty normal. Feels like any young person would. Hell, he might put on a movie he won't pay attention to, or finally adopt a cat, just to keep the normal streak going. That's what young folks do, right?

(He can think of some other things young people do, things that Jason won't allow himself to dream of.)

Knock knock.

Jason sighs. Well. The streak was good while it lasted.

He gets up, shuffling over in his sweats. He undoes the four locks and opens the door to reveal... you.

"Uh, hey," he says, cracking the door wider. "Everything okay?"

It's late. You shouldn't be out now, even if the sun hasn't gone down yet.

Jason frowns when you sway in the doorway and don't respond.

Then you flash him the sweetest smile he's ever been on the receiving end of. Wow. Sure, Jason's seen you flash your pretty teeth before. But not like this. And not at him.

"Hi, Jaylove. Hi."

"Uh." He watches you walk right past him, into his apartment. He shuts the door. "Hi... What's goin' on? You alright?"

You turn to face him. "Why wouldn't I be? After all, you're here."

"What?"

You walk to him and take his hands in yours. Jason's eyebrows rise.

"Hey...?" Jason says, looking at your joined hands. You lace your fingers together.

"My prince," you say happily. "Your eyes are beautiful. Like emeralds. And you have a beautiful mouth. Your whole face is beautiful. I'd like to paint you."

"Are you on drugs?" Jason releases your hands to hold your face. He gently pushes your eyelids up to inspect your pupils. You just smile.

"I feel high when you touch me," you say. "Just being near you is drug enough."

Yeah, Jason's now feeling a healthy amount of paranoia. It's not that you don't stop by or that you're not nice. No, you're the sweetest creature Jason's ever had the pleasure of meeting.

But wanting to touch him? Thinking he's beautiful? Calling him your prince? Either you're drugged or he's died again and found paradise.

Then again, he probably wouldn't still be in Gotham if this were paradise. You'd definitely be here, though.

"Right. Your eyes are fine." Jason lets go of your face. "You sure you didn't take anything? Drink anything? Run into anyone?"

"I drank tea," you say, gazing up at him. "And I petted a fat orange cat. Don't you want a cat?"

"I surely do. You drank tea?"

"Mmhm. It was almost as amazing as you."

Jason nods and takes your hand. "Okay. We're going to the Cave."

"How come?" you ask, but you don't protest as he leads you out and into the elevator.

"Because I wanna make sure you're okay," he says, pushing the button labeled one. You're definitely not okay, but he doesn't want to worry you.

"Oh." You lean against Jason's arm. He stiffens and looks down at you. You just burrow into his side. "'Cause you love me?"

Breath catches in his throat. You can't mean that. Do you even know what you're saying? No, impossible.

You look up when he's silent for too long. "Jay-Jay? Didja hear me?"

"Yeah," he says slowly. "Yeah, I did."

You look at him, big eyes sweet. "Don't you love me too? I love you."

Jason swallows hard. "I, um, don't think you're in your right mind."

Your lip quivers. Oh, God. No, please don't cry, please don't—

"You don't love me?" you ask, tears welling.

"I do love you," Jason says quickly, panicking at your distress. "I do. Shit. Please don't cry, honey. I do love you."

You frown, cheeks wet. "You're just saying that! You hate me!"

Jason shakes his head. "No, no! Oh, never, I could never hate ya, honest! I was just... um, this is the first time we've said it to each other, y'know? I do love you. Have for a long time now."

He strokes your cheek with his thumb, soaking up your tears. You sniffle but accept this, nodding.

"Oh. I'm sure I've told you that I love you before. I love you so much, Jason. I'll never love anyone the way I love you."

God, this is fucking torture. As the elevator reaches the ground floor, Jason takes a deep breath, lets you link your fingers with his, and leads you out to the street. The universe is intent in never granting him a normal night. Noted.

There's no way you're in your right mind. Jason's figured this from the start. But that doesn't make the way you look at him, like he's anybody worth looking at, any less painful.

He pulls out his phone, shoots a quick text to Dick. ETA 10 min.

Dick responds two seconds later. What's up?

Possible Code 12.

Jason pockets his phone, running through potential reasons for what did this to you. Ivy's not wreaking havoc tonight, as far as he knows.

Meanwhile, you're in another world, humming and holding his hand. Jason's thought about this many times, holding your hand and taking you for rides, you adoring him, hugging him, kissing him. He's nothing if not a masochist.

"Okay, sweetheart," Jason says, and you immediately turn to him, like a flower showing its face to the sun. Jason is no one's sun, though. He's more like the worm under your boot.

"Hm?" you ask, stroking his arm. Jason does his best to be normal about it.

"We're gonna, um, go to the Cave. You okay on my bike?"

You glance at his bike, and there's a tinge of apprehension on your face. Jason reaches for your shoulder, stops, then forces himself to touch you. You're not going to recoil from him, not in this state. And he's not doing it for himself; he's only touching you so that you'll let him take you to the Manor and figure out what's what.

He's not a bastard for holding your shoulder, right? He's doing it just so that you'll be safe.

(It doesn't matter. Jason knows he's a bastard for being in your life at all.)

You lean into him when he touches your shoulder.

"Never been on your bike, Jay," you say.

"I know. But I swear to you that you're safe. You know I'd never let anything happen to you, right? Never."

You nod. "Yeah. You always look out for me. 'S part of why I love you so much."

Good God. Jason's going to be a ball of self-hatred for the next millenia over this.

He puts his spare helmet on you, helping you fit the chin guard underneath.

"Okay?" he asks.

You give him a thumbs-up. Jason smiles and puts his own helmet on.

"You gotta hold on real tight, okay? As tight as you can. Don't worry 'bout hurting me."

"Mmkay!"

He helps you mount the bike first, then follows. As soon as he's on, you wrap your arms around his middle and smush your helmet into his back.

How long has he dreamed about this? Taking you on late-night rides, feeling you pressed against him, squealing as he floats through traffic (he'd never speed the way he does when he's alone; Jason doesn't give a shit about his own body, but your safety matters).

"The bike is loud, so I'm not gonna hear you if you say something, but if you want me to stop, tap my shoulder three times, okay?"

"Okay, Jaylove." You squeeze him in what's clearly a hug. "Ready."

Jason's not sure he is. It's been a long time since anyone's touched him, much less someone he's head over heels for. You're so trusting, it makes him ache. Jason's just glad he's the first jerk you laid your eyes upon instead of the magic you're under pushing you into the arms of someone dangerous.

He starts up his bike. Jason's had guests on his bike before, mostly his brothers and, once, the old lady who runs the tea shop down the block.

He's never had a lovely thing like you snuggled up to him, clinging to him. Jason feels rabid. He feels like he needs to be shot and put out of his misery.

He follows all of the road rules so you won't be scared. You don't tap his shoulder or shake, so Jason figures you're fine. He's good. He's being good for you.

Jason slows as he goes down the ramp to the Cave entrance. He stops at the mouth of the Cave and dismounts first, pulling off his helmet.

"You alright in there?" he asks, offering his hand.

You wrap your arms around his neck and Jason wobbles as he recalibrates and snakes an arm around your shoulders instead and helps you off that way. He removes your helmet. You blink at the new light, then look at him, moony-eyed once again.

"I was kinda scared," you admit. "But I trust you, Jaybee. Always."

"Got you here in one piece, didn't I?" he says, winking at you.

"Uh-huh!"

Jason sees what you're going to do before you try. He sees the way you look at his lips, how you rear back, ready to leap and kiss him.

He redirects you immediately, preferring that to making you cry again. He hates it when you cry. Your soft mouth lands on his jaw instead.

Jason smiles, strained. You're annoyed at the fact that you missed, and Jason can see that you're about to try again when Dick and Tim come into view.

He's never been more thrilled to see his brothers.

"Fellow bretheren," Jason says. He knows his voice is thin. "Funny seein' you here."

You're briefly distracted and wave to be polite. But then you force Jason's left ear to your level and catch the lobe between your teeth.

Holy fuck. Jason nearly buckles at the sensation. He's never understood the ears as an erogenous zone before—now he gets it. He's ashamed of how heat pools in his gut as you nip his ear.

Jason balances you with an arm around your waist, gingerly trying to both hide his reaction and separate you. He accomplishes neither. Tim's eyebrows are at his hairline; Dick's mouth is open, no doubt ready to make a smart-ass comment.

"Well, it's nice to see you two so... affectionate," Dick says, holding back a grin.

Jason rolls his eyes. "I need you to run tests. They showed up to my door like this, all over me."

"Yeah, that is weird," Tim says.

"Thank you very much for that, Timbit," Jason grumbles. You kiss under his ear and weave your fingers through his hair. Jason manages to get your hands off, but your mouth is still firmly planted on his neck. He clears his throat. Normal!

"I dunno, Jason," Dick says. "It's not that weird. People fall in love every day."

And, okay. Jason can do teasing. He can even do borderline psychotic remarks. That's part of having siblings. He's made a few in his day. They've all stabbed or shot each other.

But now Dick is just being cruel.

Jason scowls. "Take their blood so we can fucking get this over with. They're clearly under a love spell."

His scathing tone surprises Dick, but it really startles you. You've moved away from his ear (Jason is both relieved and disappointed) and return to cradling his arm. You're alarmed by his reply.

"Jaylove?" you ask. "What happened? Are you mad?"

Jaylove? Jason sees Tim mouth. He forces himself to focus on you, be gentle for you.

"Hm, no, not mad at ya, sweetheart. Sorry 'bout that. But we need to run some medical tests on ya, 'kay? Can we do that?"

"Sure," you chirp, linking your arm with his.

Dick and Tim slip into Work Mode. Jason appreciates that. His nerves are frayed. He senses a self-destructive episode coming on after you're cured. Maybe he'll throw himself into a bar fight tonight.

"Symptoms?" Tim asks, going to the computer.

"Being in love with me," Jason says dryly.

"Besides that. Any physical symptoms like dizziness or nausea? Recklessness?"

"No, didn't notice any sickness. Not reckless; they did everything I said." Jason swallows, says the next part quietly, fearfully. "Probably jump into the Hudson if I asked."

Tim nods sharply. Dick prepares to draw your blood. Again, you're apprehensive. But Jason soothes you, pets you, and you're leaning into him like a cat in its favorite patch of sun as Dick takes your blood.

"I wanna get married," you say as red fills the second vial.

Dick shoots him a sympathetic look. Jason looks away.

"Soon, honey," Jason says, ignoring how his stomach's a pit.

He didn't think about love or relationships when he came back. Didn't care, not when he had revenge to plot.

But after all that was over, after he met you, after he found a reason to keep living, Jason started thinking about it.

And what he realized is that he's never getting married.

By choice? Yes, sure. Jason loves pretending he has a choice in anything. Sure, he chooses to abstain from marriage, like normal people out there do. But really, he avoids attachment because it wouldn't be fair to anyone. He knows he's not made for that. His death made him unsalvageable. It's a miracle he's here at all. How dare he ask for more?

And inside, he chokes on a vine of hatred for everyone else who can find someone. Who's capable of loving and being loved. It even, to Jason's shame, has reared its head at you, whispered in his ear about how you're not damaged, so of course you'll find someone one day. Of course you'll leave him eventually. It would be stupid of him to hope otherwise.

"When?" you ask as Dick starts on the third vial. You don't even notice. Dick could probably drain you dry as long as Jason's in front of you. "When can we get married?"

"How 'bout next month?" Jason says without thinking. He would. He'd marry you tomorrow.

You think about this for a moment, then nod. "Yes, that would be good. I've always wanted a fall wedding."

"Yeah? I always liked the idea of marrying in the spring. All the flowers."

"No," you say. "Pollen's out. You'd be sneezing your head off."

Jason laughs, then wants to cry, because you know that he's allergic to pollen.

"Yeah, y'right," he says, voice thick. "Fall wedding's better."

"Alright, all done!" Dick says, forcefully cheerful. He removes the needle and puts a Bandaid on the inside of your elbow. You rest your head on Jason's arm. Jason tries not to boil himself in a fire of misery. You probably won't even remember this.

Dick watches you both, then tugs your hand. "Hey, you mind helping me fill out some info? For the tests."

Your mouth shrivels. You look at Jason, and he can't believe he's your North Star, magic or not.

"I don't wanna leave Jason," you say.

"He'll be right here," Dick says quickly. "Won't leave your sight for a second. But I need your help."

"Just for a minute?" you ask.

Dick nods. "One minute."

You sigh and turn to Jason. "I'll be right back."

Jason nods, tries to smile. "Sure. I'll be here."

He'll be here. Forever and ever and ever...

Wait a second. Tea. Jason jolts.

"Tim. They said they drank tea. Could be something there."

"On it," Tim says. "Dick, we need a mouth swab."

"Right." He turns to you. "Can I—"

"No," you say, and march back to Jason. "You said a minute."

Jason would laugh at the pout on your face, the way you plop yourself next to him and curl around him like he's a new toy. He would laugh. If he could find the humor.

Dick looks at him. Jason sighs.

"Honey?" You hum. "We just need one more test, yeah? Q-tip on your tongue. Not the most pleasant, but it'll be quick. Promise."

"Okay," you say immediately, hugging his arm.

Jason knows it's a spell, or maybe a lab-made chemical. But he's still awed by how quickly you acquiesce. How you show no worry when Dick approaches because Jason's right there, patting your hand.

Dick swabs your mouth. You cough three times after, most of your body on Jason.

"Interesting how they're not lustful," Dick says.

"What," Jason says.

"Okay, the ear thing was..." Dick shrugs. "But it's not mindless. It's actually the most reasonable love spell I've ever seen. Like, their desires for you don't feel manufactured, they feel—"

"Don't," Jason snaps. "Don't fuckin' say it."

Dick holds up his hands. "It was just an observation. You've seen Ivy's pollen doses. This one seems different."

"Fine. Ivy's taking a break from the orgies. Doesn't mean this is real."

Jason's not stupid enough to hope.

"It can't be Ivy," Tim says, and Jason almost startles. He forgot Tim was there, so wrapped up in you. "No reports of Ivy attacks. And the substance, whatever it was, wasn't inhaled. It was injested."

You wrap your arms around Jason's neck and smush your face against his. You're warm and smell good. Jason feels feral.

He holds you with a hand on your back, mind turning.

"Sweetheart," he says. You hum. "You said you drank tea after work. Where exactly did you go?"

"Dunno," you say, spacey. "Went into a tea shop that's never been there before. And an old lady invited me in. She said I looked so sad. And I was, Jaybee! How did she know?"

"I don't know, honey," Jason says quietly, even though he has a suspicion. He's never letting you walk home alone again.

Tea shop. That's what he gets for trying to be a good Samaritan. How dare she drug you?

"Hm. Well, she gave me a tea sample, said it would make all my problems disappear. Then I petted her cat named Darcy. Like that book you like!"

God, Jason just wants to hug you tight and kiss your face. It's awful of him to think of you as cute in your state, he knows.

"Track their routes," Jason says. "They take two different ones home. One crosses Bank Street, the other goes over the bridge."

"I'd call you a stalker but I really have no right," Tim says, fingers flying over the keyboard.

"No shit," Jason mumbles, letting you play with his fingers.

"Jason," Dick says quietly. He glances at you, then at his brother. "If it's too much, we can sedate them."

"No. We don't know how it'll react to the tea. It's not Ivy's brew."

Dick frowns. He knows Jason's right. Jason knows he's right.

"Okay, I got something. Magic signatures from a building on Tenth Street," Tim says. "And I think I'm onto an antidote."

"I'll check it out," Dick says, going to suit up. He looks at Jason. "Are you-?"

Jason nods. "I'm fine. Go."

So Dick does. Tim is able to make an antidote within the hour. He gives it to Jason who injects it into your neck. He feels guilty even though this is what’ll cure you. You wince at the pinch but you don't so much as whimper, endlessly trusting.

"They'll probably crash soon," Tim says, out of your earshot. "I don't know if you should risk the bike."

Jason sighs. Tim's right, and it makes him all the more agitated that his brothers have been helpful and even kind of nice during the whole thing.

You're going to crash soon. Jason has no choice but to bring you up to the Manor.

"Come on, sweetheart," he says, taking your hand and standing.

"Where're we goin'?" you ask, yawning.

"Goin’ t’bed, honey. Aren't ya tired?"

"Hmm. Mmhmm."

"Yeah, thought so."

Jason leads you up the stairs and out of the Cave. He helps keep you steady as you trip up the stairs. He's tempted to just carry you, but he feels like that might be overkill.

Once at the top of the stairs, Jason stops. Swallows.

He hasn't been up here in a while. He slept in his room once after he returned, after a nasty encounter with Scarecrow.

"Wanna sleep in your bed, Jay," you mumble, cheek against his arm.

Jason sighs. "Yeah. Okay, love."

You go to his room. It's clean, as usual—Alfred never let it get dusty. Jason had hoped that if you ever saw his room it would be in much different circumstances. Normal circumstances.

But, well. Here you are.

"Hmm, 's nice," you say as Jason pulls back the bedspread and helps you out of your shoes. You start to take off your pants and he panics.

"Uh! Uh, baby, maybe keep the pants on. You might get cold."

You frown in confusion. "Doesn't feel cold."

"Yeah, but, whew, Alfred blasts the AC! Jus' keep 'em on."

Jason cannot handle seeing you in your underwear. He draws the line there.

"'Kay," you say, and flop onto the sheets. You wiggle around, getting comfortable.

Jason sits in the fat armchair in the corner of the room. Immediately, you sit up.

"Why're you over there?" you ask, eyes wide.

Oh, boy.

"Oh. I was, um, gonna read for a bit. I'll come in in a while."

Your lip trembles. No—

"Don't leave me, Jaybee. Don't leave! Stay with me. I love you!"

Jason rubs his forehead. "Honey—"

"You hate me! You do! I annoy you." Tears gather in your eyes.

Jason hurries to the edge of his bed, climbing in in his jeans and socked feet.

"No, no, love, we covered this. I don't hate ya, hm? Where'd ya get a silly thing like that?"

You quiet as he scoots in beside you. Then you throw most of your limbs over him. Jason stiffens.

"Just got scared," you say, and kiss his chest. "Promise you won't leave?"

Jason breathes in. Breathes out.

"Yeah. I promise."

And he stays.

You wake up with a faint headache and a dry throat. Sunlight peeks through the blinds. You feel warm and safe and well-rested, despite the slight pains.

You stretch, expecting air. Instead, you touch skin. You open your eyes.

Oh. You're in a bedroom.

No, scratch that. You see framed pictures of the Bats, books on shelves.

You're in Jason Todd's childhood bedroom. With the aforementioned tucked under your arm and leg.

You jerk away so hard, you land on the carpeted floor below.

Jason's up instantly, head poking over the bed. His eyes widen.

"Shit! Y'alright? C'mere."

He gets up and practically scoops you into a standing position. Your brain short-circuits: big strong man strong big good nice. Then you recover.

"Um," you say. "Uh. Hmm. Hi."

Jason smiles tightly. "Hey."

"What... how-?"

"Right. How much do you remember?"

You try to think. You remember walking home, drinking tea, an affectionate orange cat. You remember hands on your face and your stomach swooping on a motorcycle and a gentle voice. So gentle.

"You were magicked," Jason says quickly. "It was a, uh, tea shop. Dick's checking it out. You, um, came to me and I took you here and you got an antidote and you didn't want me to, um, leave. So, yeah. Sorry."

You tilt your head. "Why are you apologizing, Jason?"

He sighs. "Just 'cause."

You have no idea what that means. But you feel like Jason's telling you a very condensed version of what happened.

"What was the magic?" you ask.

He winces. "Love spell. You thought you were... in love with me."

Jason says it like he's the one who charmed you. Like he's ashamed of it.

"Oh," you say. Well, you certainly didn't need a spell for that to happen.

"Yeah." Jason's staring at your and his shoes by the door. "But everything's fine now. I can take you home. Dick and Tim'll take care of the tea shop witch."

He doesn't wait for a response, darting to the door and slipping into his shoes. You rush forward and close the door as Jason opens it. He looks at you in confusion.

"Jason," you say softly. "What happened?"

"Whaddya mean? I told you."

"Jason. I've known you for three years. You think I don't know when you're not telling me something?"

He looks at his feet. One of his socks has a hole in the toe.

"There's nothin' to tell," he mumbles. "Magic stuff. Happens all the time. Business as usual."

You frown. "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable, Jay. I admittedly don't remember a lot."

Jason's expression is relief but there's a heaviness to his shoulders. "Well, 's for the best, really. Magic messes with your head."

"Did I make you uncomfortable, Jason? Not letting you leave and—God, I can't imagine how I was on the spell."

He shakes his head fervently. "No! No, no, my God, no. You didn't—you could never—I mean, I wasn't... fuck. No. You didn't make me uncomfortable."

"If you're sure," you say.

He nods. "Hundred percent."

Jason doesn't sound like he's lying. You're pretty good at detecting it, especially when it comes to his feelings.

So why is he acting weird?

Well, duh. A love spell. You probably freaked him out, especially since you really do love him.

"I hope we can still be friends," you offer.

Jason turns to the door.

"Yeah," he says quietly. "'Course we're still friends."

It shouldn't make you ache. Jason's perfectly in the right to not reciprocate how you feel. How can he reciprocate something he doesn’t even know exists?

"You, uh..." Jason scratches the back of his neck. He faces you once more. "You said last night that you were sad. When you were coming home. I just wanted to say, y'know... you can talk to me. 'Bout anything."

This will make all of your problems disappear, she had said. It'd tasted like kombucha—you hadn't had a lot of faith.

Jason begins to open the door. You slide in front of him and slam the door shut with your back. He steps back in surprise.

"Wh—"

"I have to tell you something!" you blurt.

Jason stills. "Okay."

"I adopted you a cat," you say.

He squints. "What?"

"Well, she's still at the shelter but I put her on reserve. Of a sort. I have a friend who works there. She's black and white and likes to cuddle and has two different colored eyes but she can't see very well. Her name is... whatever you want to name her. Because she's yours. And I think you'll love her."

He nods slowly. "I, uh, thanks. Thank you. I was thinking about adopting a—"

"I was sad last night because I kept thinking about how you're gonna love this cat I got you but you'll never love me, and how that's the fucking worst feeling in the world."

You've stunned him silent. Shit.

Seconds tick by. A minute. Two minutes.

"Okay," you say, wanting to jump out of Jason's two-story window. "I'm gonna go drop off the face of the Earth now. Bye."

You open the door. Jason closes it by caging you against it.

And then he kisses you.

Jason pours everything into the kiss. He's not a perfect kisser but it's good. It's magic. He holds your face completely, shuts out the entire world. Kisses the breath out of you.

Yes, you could go on. It's fantastic. It's fireworks. It's sunbeams.

And actually, it feels like the most normal thing in the world, kissing Jason Todd.

#mmsmmshxjsjsjsjhdjsnamamaksksjsj #fic rec #jason todd

2K notes · View notes

oncasette · 1 day ago

Note

hi sanne!! i feel like u make suchhh good comedy/fluff fics when it comes to jason, like u make him more of a human than just some vigilante killing machine. especially in in the buff

would u ever write something liikke that one tt trend where you’re mean to your brothers gf to see his reaction? but with stephanie brown, jason, and reader?????? the thought makes me laugh so hard but i cannot write for shit

Thanks for the prompt! Hope this is okay :)

jason todd x fem!reader. estab relationship, tiktok silly shenanigans, batfam interactions, this is technically 50% chatfic.

****

"This is dumb," Jason says, glaring at the camera that hasn't begun recording.

"Don't be such a wet blanket," Steph says airily, fussing with the filters. "Even Damian lets me post stuff. He did a speedpaint last week."

"Damian isn't legally dead."

She shrugs. "B got that worked out."

"Hmph."

You lean your head on Jason's shoulder. He instantly relaxes, rubbing your opposite arm. Steph smiles at you in the camera. You smile back.

"And your girlfriend is on board," she adds, sitting back on the couch. "She thinks it'll be fun."

"I do think it'll be fun," you say, looking at Jason. His expression mellows as he looks at you, and he pecks your lips.

"Sure," he says to you. "Could be fun."

"Whipped," Steph mumbles. "Okay! Let's get started. So Jason, I'm gonna ask you which of us is more xyz, better at a skill, et cetera, and you have to answer honestly. Okay?"

"Yeah, I got it."

Steph nods and starts the video, all business.

You hide a smile, endeared by the fact that Jason's let himself get gently bullied into doing things like making Tiktoks for Steph's three hundred thousand followers. Steph had insisted he wouldn't have agreed without your urging, but you get the feeling that just like with almost everyone else in his family, Jason's not as hard-hearted as he appears.

You're not nervous about the video, exactly. You know Steph is just pretending. But you are a bit nervous that Jason might not flock immediately to your side. After all, he's known Steph longer than he's known you. And she's an official member of Batman's merry band of Robins. You're just some woman who accidentally bumped your cart with Jason's at Shoprite and wound up dating him.

"Okay, um..." Steph's voice pulls you back to the prank. "Which of us has better style?"

Jason says your name. "But I think you dress nicely too, Steph."

Steph, to her credit, is a wonderful actor. She makes a face at Jason, then looks at the camera. "Really? She wears the same thing every day. I feel like I never see her without jeans."

You school your face, acting unaware. Jason, however, whips his head to look at Steph.

"What?" he asks, squinting at her. "What're you talking about? She doesn't wear the same thing every day. And you're one to talk, always wearing purple."

"I like her purple outfits," you offer.

"I do it on purpose. Because it's my thing," Steph says blithely. "Not because I have nothing else to wear. Okay, next question!"

You can see Jason's unhappy expression in the camera and are immediately pleased. Steph had bet you that he'd last three questions before stopping the video. You'd guessed four.

"Hmm." She rests a finger on her lips, thinking. "Oh, okay. Who's a better cook?"

Jason snorts. "Obviously her. I wouldn't let you near the stove for anything."

"Jason, be so for real!" Steph says. "It's not like she's any better. Remember when she made those peanut butter cookies for Dick's birthday?" She looks at the camera. "That's his name, guys." She turns back to Jason. "Those cookies were awful! It was like eating peanut butter gravel."

"They were a little dry," you say, nodding gravely.

"No, wh—Stephanie, what the hell is your problem?" Jason snaps, roughly turning on the couch and resting a hand on your waist, simultaneously comforting you and grounding himself. "Why are you being so goddamn mean? Those cookies were great. And I thought you two were friends. This ain't how a friend talks about a friend."

Steph shrugs, cool as a cucumber. "I'm just being honest. That's what this game is. You're supposed to be—"

"You're not being honest, you're being nasty."

"I'm being honest!"

Jason shakes his head in disgust. You allow yourself a small grin while he's looking away. Steph covers her mouth to hide a laugh. Jason leans over to turn off the video.

"No, I'm done. We both are. C'mon, baby, let's go."

He pats your hip and stands, waiting for you to get up. You shoot an urgent look at Steph. She nods and grabs her phone, jogging to stop in front of Jason.

"Wait, hang on! It was a prank. The video wasn't about comparing us, it was me pretending to be rude to her. It's a whole trend."

Jason folds his arms. "Yeah, if you think I'm buyin' that bullshit—"

"It's true," you say. "Honestly, Jay, Steph and I were pranking you. It's a trend, like she said."

"What kinda fucked up trends are they doing on there?" Jason asks, mildly horrified. "That's awful. Steph was so mean."

"It was about to get really good, but you stopped the video," she says, pouting.

Jason glares at her.

"Um, not that that matters! And I meant none of it." She looks at you. "You know that, right?"

"I know, Steph," you say warmly. "It was just a prank."

"Well, don't do that with us again," Jason says. "I was about to cuss you out."

"Implying that you weren't already cursing me out?"

"No," he says. "I really wasn't. Apologize to my girlfriend."

She sighs. "Okay, okay. I'm very sorry. I love you. I hope Jason puts a ring on you soon. Unless you find someone better, in which case—"

"Steph."

She rolls her eyes. "Us ladies have to stick together. Do you think I wouldn't advise Tim's girlfriend the same thing? Of course I would, because I'm a feminist."

You grin. "It's okay, Steph. And same."

"Happy?" she asks Jason.

Jason kisses you and pulls you into his side. "With her? Always."

****

it went viral!!! is Steph's text two days later. She's sent the video to the entire group chat, which includes the Bats, plus you, and minus Bruce because he's a loser, according to everyone in the chat.

Jayjay 🥰: If an article comes out about my resemblance to a dead kid, count your days

Steph 💜: i would maim u first :) everyone watch my vid pls

I'll watch it right now, you reply.

You tap the link. It's weird to see your face on a video that has almost one million likes. You open the comments as it plays in the background.

paellaprincess_89: "what the hell is ur problem??" dear lorddd when i get to heavennn 🧎‍♀️

oliverqueensleftnut: oh uh he seems kinda possessive... kinda problematic. where did you find this guy? are there other men like him? what are their addresses? are they single?

pam_24566: the way he was holding her waist and looking at her he is in loveeee

killthejoker23: his gf is so cute 😭 steph apologize to her rn

stephaniebrownswife: i like ur purple fits too 💜💍

wonderwomanlovebot: yeahh that's not her bf anymore, that's our bf

The group chat dings. Dick's replied.

[2:26pm]

Dick 🐦: 😂😂😂 jasons veins were popping out of his head. steph you really did a number on him 🤣🤣🤣

Steph 💜: thank u! i try. also what did we say about using the laughing crying emoji? OLDASS

Dick 🐦 has replied to your message

-> btw we loved the cookies and youre very stylish 😎👌😋👗

Cass 🦇: yes! 🍪

[2:27pm]

Dick 🐦 has replied to Steph 💜's message

-> bite me! 🤣🤣🤣

Jayjay 🥰: Why the fuck are people asking if I'm single? Didn't they watch the video?

[2:28pm]

Steph 💜: an unfortunate side effect of posting this is facing the reality that ppl think ur hot. we live in dark times

Tim 🦆: ew

Damian Wayne: I'll say.

Jayjay 🥰 has replied to Steph 💜's message

-> I have a girlfriend. You don't. Bite me. 👻

Jayjay 🥰: And fuck🖕 you guys

Jayjay 🥰: Love you baby

You: ily too <3

[2:29pm]

Steph 💜: gross. stop.

Dick 🐦: we should do this w me and kori. but youd insult me instead of her bc i know the trend

Steph 💜: r u kidding me 😃 i actually value my life. kori would blast me to space if i hated on u

Dick 🐦: yeah 🤣🤣 love her

Tim 🦆: what's with all these amazing women with mid men? it's an epidemic

Steph 💜: LMFAO you are SOOOO not one to talk tim

Jayjay 🥰: wasted

Duke ⭐️: real

Cass 🦇: 🫵😂

Dick 🐦: hey cass used the emoji! make fun of her!

Steph 💜: Cass can do anything she wants. Queen

Cass 🦇: thank you. 🥰

Tim 🦆: wait a damn minute. i'm not mid

Several people are typing...

The chat continues to blow up with Tim trying to defend himself and Steph mercilessly not letting him. You go to the comments again, giddy at the mix of people supporting you, people thinking you and Jason are a great couple, and people thirsting over Jason and Steph.

One comment has over twenty thousand likes: I would let him choke me out with those biceps.

Your reply comes naturally: me too!

A text pops up a minute later.

Steph 💜: STOP ENCOURAGING THEM.

#hehehehehehhee #needthat #fic rec #jason todd

501 notes · View notes

oncasette · 1 day ago

Text

super fan | jason todd

Summary: Three months into your relationship, your boyfriend Jason Todd finds your Red Hood poster. You're mortified. But Jason? Well, you've got his face in your room and your lips on his... truth be told, Jason maybe likes it a little too much that you're a super fan of his.

Pairing: Jason Todd x fem!reader

Word count: 5.4k

Warnings/tags: bf!jason, you find jason and RH hot and that crosses some wires. jason takes advantage of your crush (in a hot way), competency kink, cocky jason, identity porn, minor violence, motorcycles, reader has a crush on RH but doesn't know jason is RH so it's a little complicated but NO cheating!! implied sexual content but NO explicit smut.

divider

Tonight, you're staying at Jason's place. You've only been dating three months, but it's going well enough that you're comfortable enough to stay over. Jason has hinted more than once that you can leave clothes at his place, but you insist on keeping all of your stuff at your apartment, just in case things go south. What's that rule? Six months and you’ll know whether he’s the one? Three months to go, then.

Call you crazy, but you think you might already know. Jason is fantastic and you’re sure you’re in love with him. Not that you're going to tell him that any time soon. But you know enough not to put all of your stock into a three-month relationship. Who knows what secrets Jason Todd might be hiding.

"How come you never invite me to your place?" Jason asks as he pulls up in front of your building. He'd offered to drive you both to his apartment on his motorcycle, and it's officially weird if you refuse him. He might think you're hiding something. And you are. Something mortifying.

"Because you're gonna try to install your special security measures," you say as he locks his bike.

Jason thinks about it, then nods. "Yeah, that's probably true. No, but it's your place. I wouldn't do anything you wouldn't know about."

"I know," you say, going inside and holding the door for him. "But my apartment is smaller than yours.”

"That doesn't matter to me, baby."

When did he get it into his head that he needs to be in your apartment? You go up the stairs with Jason behind you, thinking about how you can excuse not inviting him inside. Except, it’s suspicious if you make him wait outside. Even for Jason, who's about as cagey as they come. He seems to trust you fine, but you have no idea what freak raised him because he's eternally wary of people and unfamiliar places. He also insists on sitting close to the door when you go out to eat. But even he's invited you to his place. Many times now. Maybe you can extend the same favor.

"Fine. You get a quick tour," you say against your better judgment as you get to your door, unlocking it.

"I'm honored, truly." Jason follows you inside. He clicks his tongue, pointing to the lock. "No deadbolt?"

"Jason..."

"I mean, what a beautiful lock on your door," he says sweetly, kissing your cheek. "Y'know what would make it even more beautiful?"

"You being less paranoid?"

"Seventy percent of Gotham break-ins are in residences that have only one lock. Sixty-five percent of them are on—"

You turn around and put your arms around Jason. He automatically puts his arms around your waist and stops talking. His beauty still stuns you: his aquiline nose, his freckles, those bright teal eyes. You get shy at times, flustered and delighted at the fact that this hunk of a man likes you so much.

"I'm extremely attracted to you, despite your raccoon demeanor," you say.

"You'd be the first," Jason says, gaze terribly fond. "I'll shut up now 'bout the statistics."

"No, statistics are hot. Just not when they're about home invasions."

"Point taken. How 'bout stats on Gotham's exports?"

You throw your head back, gasping. "Oh! You fiend. No more, please. I may just ravish you here on the floor!"

Jason bends you back a little, his hand fitting in the center of your back to ease you over. He doesn't do that very often, use his strength and wield you the way he wants, but when he does, you lose your breath. Your pulse quickens as Jason nuzzles your neck.

"This okay?" he asks. You hum an airy yes.

"'M in no rush," he says in your ear. "We can linger. Haven't finished your tour. 'S your room next?"

You straighten so fast, you nearly knock Jason in the teeth. It's only because of his quick reflexes that you don't.

"You can't see my room," you rush out, looking at him with wide eyes.

Jason squints, hands dropping to your sides. "What? Why?"

"Um... because... because my room is a mess."

"So? I don't care. My room looks like a solitary confinement cell."

You raise an eyebrow. Jason clears his throat.

"Well, I mean, it used to. It's better now that I have plants and shit."

"Lack of decor is nowhere near as embarrassing as my room, Jason. Mine is beyond messy. It's filled with half-eaten pizza crusts. And rats. And... slime?"

"Slime, huh? Well, good thing I wore my Doc Martens. I can withstand a little slime."

You sag. "You don't believe me."

Jason smiles and kisses your forehead. "Not particularly, baby. What's the issue, huh? You hiding nudie mags or something?"

You roll your eyes. "Who calls it that, Jay? You sound like Tony Soprano. Just say porn."

"Gracefully choosing to ignore that comment. Look, if y'do have porn, it's nothing to be ashamed of. You should feel safe to express and explore your sexuality however you—"

"Oh my God, it's not porn." You cover your face. "Jesus. It's—okay, just come in. If you're gonna break up with me over this, we might as well face it now."

"I'm not gonna break up with you," he says as you take his hand and lead him to your bedroom. "Nothing you show me could—"

You swing open the door. Jason trails off as he follows you in, his eyes landing on your 4x6 poster of the Red Hood that's smack middle in the room, taped over your bed.

And then, obviously, one can't miss the Red Hood towel on your computer chair, or the Red Hood mug. And the limited edition Red Hood Bat Burger bobblehead, which was quickly discontinued after some public backlash.

"Wow," Jason says.

You groan and bury your face in your hands. "It's fine. I know it's weird. Just go."

You don’t know how it happened, this accumulation of Red Hood merch. It's not like people aren’t fans of heroes. Plenty of local heroes are revered across the world. You have an online friend from Brazil who has literally all of the Superman collectibles. But Superman is reasonable. Batman is reasonable. Nightwing is common and basically a Gotham staple—you've seen women in Nightwing bikinis.

But Red Hood fans are far and few. Plenty of people think he's a criminal and a borderline villain. Some people, working-class people mostly, adore him. You've heard plenty of wonderful things he's done to turn neighborhoods around, keep people safe, fight The Man. Hell, last week there was a video of him carrying an old woman to the hospital after she fell in the road.

Plus, you get the feeling he's really handsome under that helmet. You're sure he's physically overwhelming, at the very least. You've seen clips of him fighting. Oh boy, can he hold his own.

But if you told the average person on the street that your favorite hero is Red Hood, they'd definitely give you a side eye. You brace yourself for one now.

"Huh," Jason says. "Didn't think you'd be a fan of his. Not really a hero, is he?"

You huff, squaring your shoulders. "He's helped a lot of people. No one actually cares about protecting us except for vigilantes. Red Hood protects innocents. If that takes a little bit of a heavier hand, so be it."

Jason raises his eyebrows. "Didn't know you played fast with morality like that, honey."

"You don't agree?" If this is where your relationship ends, you'd rather it happen sooner than later. "He's implemented a lot of fundamental structures that even Batman hasn't. He's more big-picture than the Bats. So, whatever, okay? If you think I'm nutty for liking Red Hood, then just go now."

You cross your arms and turn away from Jason. It's quiet for a long moment. You're sure it's done; you've just ruined the first relationship you really wanted to make work. But you've been on dates and let it slip that you admire Hood, and plenty of men let you know what an idiot you are to do so. You thought Jason would understand. Maybe not.

But then you feel arms around your stomach. Jason kisses your cheek.

"C'mon," he says chidingly, voice low and sweet in your ear. "Y'think it's that easy to scare me off? We live in Gotham, sweetheart. The only way I'd be worried is if you had someone's head sitting in your fridge. And even then, I'd hear ya out on whose head it is."

You lean into Jason's solid warmth, rubbing your cheek against his scruff like a cat. "I'd have my reasons if I did that."

"Mm, I know it."

You slip out of his grip enough to turn around. Jason's got a coy, little grin on, and you can't figure out why. But you suppose that's better than him leaving because of your local celebrity crush.

"You're really not annoyed?" you ask. "Because if you are, we should hash it out now."

"No, baby, 'm not annoyed." Jason glances at the Red Hood bobblehead. His grin widens, tongue resting between his teeth as he looks at you. You feel hunted, but the glint in Jason’s eye quickly disappears. "I think he does what needs to be done."

"Yeah?"

"Sure. Just surprised, is all. He doesn't seem like your type."

You blink, heart beating faster. "My type? Well, I-I just think he contributes a lot to the city. It's not... I appreciate what he does for Gotham."

"Wait." He tilts his head like he's genuinely trying to figure something out. "D'you have a crush on Hood or something?"

You hesitate, flustered at how quickly Jason picked up on that. How does he do that? "I don't—I mean, I admire him—he's—but I don't even know what he looks like, so—"

Jason's eyes light up, and you know you've made a mistake, just not the one you thought you would. He cups the back of your neck, which always makes you hot and squirmy.

"Oh, you do like him like that. Huh. Didn't know the helmet did it for you. Very interesting news, sweetheart. He doesn't scare ya?"

"No," you say, the word coming out weak. Wires are being crossed in your head between the image of the Red Hood and your boyfriend crowding you in your room and pressing his lips to your neck.

"That's very good to hear," Jason says, and you give in, tugging him over to your bed. He laughs. "Why didn't you want me to know?"

"It's embarrassing," you whine. "The poster was from a friend."

You let Jason climb atop you, permeating your senses with his bulk and his citrusy scent. He carefully keeps his weight off of you, but you wish he'd hold you down. This is exactly why you didn't want to bring Jason over; you don't need your old fantasies of Red Hood getting mixed up with your boyfriend.

"I don't think it's embarrassing," he says, gently taking your leg and crooking it over his hip. "You picturing him right now?"

"Jason!" You thwack his shoulder. You feel it more than he does, probably. He cackles.

"Teasin'," he says, soothing you with a kiss. "But I can get a helmet if you want me to."

You kick him off the bed. "No more tours for you!"

Work runs late a week later, so you're still out by the time eight o'clock rolls around. It's summer time, so it's not the worst thing ever, but you know what Jason would say. Your last message is still unread because Jason works most nights. You’ve chosen not to worry him by telling him you're also working tonight, instead texting him funny Gotham memes.

"Evening."

…Maybe you should've let him know.

You flinch, the voice startling you hard. Red Hood is leaning against the fence surrounding the park you pass by on your way to the bus stop. His arms are crossed, and his biceps bulge underneath his tight black t-shirt. You can't tell from here, but you're sure he must tower over you.

"Oh." Briefly, you wonder if you summoned him somehow after revealing your room to Jason last week. You've lived in Gotham your whole life and you've never run into Hood. The only vigilante you've met is Red Robin, and he's not a talker.

"Hi," you say, a little nervous, a little starstruck.

"Hi," Hood says, letting his arms drop. His posture is easy, but you know better. You know he's here for a reason. "Working tonight?"

You nod. "I just finished. I'm just going to the bus now."

"Pretty late for the bus."

"It's June."

"It's Gotham."

You open your mouth, then close it. Then you open it again. "Um... it's okay. I've done it plenty of times before."

"Plenty of times? Without letting anyone know?"

You wince. "Well, not plenty—"

"Nobody to pick you up?"

You shrug. "No."

"No? Think hard." There's the tiniest edge to his tone.

"I mean, my boyfriend could, hypothetically, but he works nights, so—"

"And you think his job is more important than making sure you're safe? It'd devastate him if something happened to you."

You blink. "I don't—I guess I didn't think of it that way."

Hood shakes his head. Then he pushes himself off of the fence and approaches you. Immediately, your heart rate increases. To be this close to the Red Hood, to have him worry about little old you, scold you for not calling Jason, it's causing a confusing mix of emotions to swirl inside you.

You've thought about how you'd act if you met Red Hood. Maybe ask for an autograph if the opportunity arises. You can't fathom asking him for anything now. He's intimidating. Maybe you are a little afraid, but it's intertwined with other feelings.

Hood pauses. "Everything okay?" he asks carefully. "Your heart rate spiked."

"Oh," you say breathlessly. "Yes, I'm okay."

You can't see his face but you feel like he doesn't believe you. "Sure?"

You wonder if he can see all of your vitals. Can he see how warm you feel? "Yes, I'm sure. It's just... I'm sort of a fan of you. So it's... it's an experience."

Hood laughs. "Fan? Don't think I have any fans."

You shake your head. "That's not true. I know a few people who like you."

He hums and approaches you slowly. You let him until he's close enough for you to take in his physicality completely. He's a couple inches taller than Jason. Not that it matters. Just an observation.

"'M flattered," he says softly. "But if you're jus' sayin' that 'cause you're a little scared, please don't."

"No, I'm not scared. I trust you, Red Hood."

He folds his arms, stretching his neck to his right shoulder. You catch a sliver of tanned, scarred skin. "So soon?"

"Uh-huh."

"Kinda crazy of ya."

You shrug. "Maybe."

"Hmm. We goin' home?"

"You want to take me home?" you ask, eyes wide.

"Not-not like that. I mean, I can't let ya go home alone."

"No, I know, I just... I didn't think Red Hood made home visits."

"Sometimes." He makes an aborted gesture to touch your cheek with his finger and you swallow hard. Your ears are very hot. You might choke on your spit.

"I didn't know Red Hood would care that much if I went home."

"'Course I do," he says softly. "Your safety is my priority."

"My-?"

"Civilians, I mean," Hood says quickly. "'S why I'm out here patrolling."

"But surely there's people who need you more than me. I'm just some nobody going home from work, I—"

"You're not a nobody. Don't say that," Hood says with so much force, it renders you silent. "Got it?"

You nod. "Okay. Sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry 'bout. C'mon, I'll take you home, okay?"

You really don't want to bother Jason at this hour. Besides, as far as vigilante escorts go, Hood really isn't the worst choice. Another person might be afraid. A sane person would refuse.

"Yes, I'm okay with that," you say, smiling. "Thank you."

"Sure. My bike is parked down the block."

He walks a little behind you, close enough for you to turn and talk to him, but angled so that nothing can sneak up on you. It's the way Jason walks with you sometimes. You wonder if it's a Gotham thing.

Hood's bike is a cherry red. He lets you type in your address into his GPS. Then he gives you a helmet.

"Safety first," he says. It's the same helmet that Jason wears for his motorcycle. For a second, you swear you can smell his aftershave. Orange blossoms.

Hood gestures for you to get on. He holds the bike steady and it seems like he's going to hold your back to help you onto the bike. But he doesn't touch you, not like Jason does.

"Ever been on a bike before?" he asks when you're on.

"My boyfriend's."

He hums, throwing a leg over and straddling the bike. You blink at the sudden wall of bulk in front of you. "He treat you right, that boyfriend?"

You nod. "He's amazing. I love him."

Hood is silent for a moment, then he clears his throat. "Good. Lady like you deserves to be treated like a princess."

You laugh. "You barely know me. I'm no princess."

"I got a good sense about people. Hold onto me."

You wrap your arms around his waist. He tuts at you.

"Gotta hold me tighter than that. Don't want you flying off. You know better."

You tighten your hold, flustered and speechless. Hood pats your hand.

"There we go. Good listener," he says. "Everything okay back there? You're quiet."

For a second, it sounds like he's teasing you, and your stomach jumps like when Jason teases you. But the Red Hood isn't playful like that, right?

"I'm okay," you say.

"Nervous?"

You shake your head. "No."

"No? Glad you've got so much faith in me."

"I do."

Hood turns on his bike, revving the engine. You squeeze him tighter as he flicks the kickstand up with his foot, pushing off and balancing. He does so effortlessly. Wow.

Hood gets you home quickly. He follows all the traffic laws and doesn't speed. He drives efficiently, like Jason, but he takes it slow on the leans... like Jason. Maybe he can feel how you get nervous on motorcycles.

"This is it?" he asks, slowing down next to your building.

"Yes. Thank you." You wait as Hood stops and gets off first, then helps you off. You take his gloved hand, and he helps you off like it's nothing, bearing most of your weight.

"No more secretly working nights," he tells you. "I'll know."

You don't question it. "Okay. I won't."

"Good. Have a good night."

He starts to mount his bike. You step off the curb, in front of him. Hood stops.

"What's up?" he asks, nodding at you. He addresses you so casually... so familiar.

"Um, I was... do you mind if I ask for your autograph?"

Hood looks at you for a long moment. You lose your nerve and turn around.

"Never mind! Sorry. Good night."

"Hang on."

You turn around. Hood beckons you over with two fingers. You go, eyes widening as he takes off his gloves. He gives them to you. You catch a glimpse of more scars and maybe a silver ring. Jason sometimes wears a silver chain around his neck. It dangles over you when he’s—

"Oh no! Oh my God, you don't have to—"

"Got a bunch." It sounds like he's smiling. "Always nice to meet a fan. Any trouble with that boyfriend, let me know."

You're not sure if you respond, you're so dazed. Hood pulls away from the curb like a bat out of hell, waving at you as he goes.

You're already in bed by the time Jason comes home from work. He comes home earlier than usual, and you're still awake when he crawls into your bed next to you. You've taken down the Red Hood poster, too embarrassed from last week. Jason insists he's going to get you an even bigger poster. You beg him not to.

"How'd you know I was at my place?" you ask, yawning.

"My apartment alarm didn't report anybody entering."

"Still think it's weird that you track who enters your apartment," you say.

"Safety first. You usually don't go to your place unless you're coming home from work. You wouldn't happen to have worked a shift tonight without telling me, would you?"

"Okay, yes, but please don't be mad. I didn't take the bus." You pause before finishing. "Red Hood actually gave me a ride home tonight."

You reach sleepily for Jason's arm. He tucks himself into place behind you, wrapping an arm and a leg around you. He smells like your shampoo.

"Yeah, don't think we aren't done with the conversation about you taking the bus home at night, by the way. Red Hood, huh? Should I be doubly worried then?"

You roll your eyes. "Not on my part. But I was definitely getting a vibe."

"A vibe? Red Hood's got the hots for my girl?"

Jason slips a hand under your shirt to rest on your stomach. He always runs a little cool and it feels good on warm nights like tonight. He doesn't mean anything by it, but desire creeps onto you, slow and thick. You think of the gloves in your dresser.

"It kinda felt like that," you say, a little embarrassed to even admit it. "He, uh, gave me his gloves."

"His gloves?" Jason sounds sleepy. "That's basically a proposal."

"Two centuries ago, maybe. Please don't be jealous. Nothing happened, Jay."

You'd never cheat on Jason, obviously, but you've had a crush on the Red Hood since he came to Gotham. Riding on his motorcycle tonight was exhilarating, to say the least. Still, you don't want this to be a thing. Another guy would probably get upset.

But Jason's tone doesn't change. He's still sleepy and peaceful. "'M not. Might have to kick his ass, though."

You laugh at the thought. Jason kneads the soft fat of your stomach. "Something funny?" he asks. "Y'think I can't take him?"

"I know you could," you say, and you mean it, even though you're not sure how well your boyfriend can dodge bullets. "But, I mean, you're too nice for him, Jay. Hood fights dirty when he needs to. You fight fair."

"Wow. So you don't think I could beat Red Hood in a fight. Way to bruise a man's ego, baby." Jason buries his face in the back of your neck in retaliation. You squeal at the tickles.

"I didn't say that!" you say, giggling. "It's a compliment. You're too nice to scrap with him. Ah! Jason, mercy, mercy!"

"So you're saying he's mean?" Jason asks, showing mercy and easing off. He returns to just holding you, leg over yours.

"Not... not to civilians. Not to me. He's just a little rough overall, I think. But he seemed nice."

"Oh my God, you loved it," Jason says, no longer sounding so sleepy. "You loved being on his bike. You loved him being a little rough. This was a dream come true."

"No! No, Jason, it wasn't like that."

"You got the hots for Hood," he sing-songs. "Hood hots, Hood hots!"

"I don't, I don't," you say, shoving your face into your pillow. "Stop. You know you're the only one for me."

Jason hums, pushing himself up so he's on top of you without putting his weight on you. He pets your hip. "Yeah, baby, I know. Don't worry. Not mad. I think it's cute. You got a little flustered around him. No biggie. I trust ya."

You sigh, turning your face to the side. "He was professional."

Jason snorts. "Yeah, he better have been. Pretty lady like you holding onto him."

"I'm sure he helps way prettier ladies in a night," you mumble.

Jason easily rolls you over, so you're facing each other. He tucks you into his chest, an arm and a leg returning to their places around you.

"I seriously doubt it," he says. You can feel his voice vibrate through his chest. "Everyone knows you're the prettiest princess in Gotham, baby."

You hesitate, thinking about Hood. "Princess?"

"Yeah. That okay?"

"Oh. Yeah, that's fine."

Jason makes a noise like he knows something you don't.

Every so often, you really hate living in Gotham. It's usually around a time like this: Scarecrow has broken out of Arkham, and he's causing serious damage. Everyone has been warned to stay inside, and the sky is hazy with fear gas.

You're mostly worried about Jason. He went out a few hours ago and he hasn't texted you since. You asked where he was and called him a dozen times but he didn't respond. You're freaking out.

You're about to go out and look for him, Scarecrow be damned, when suddenly Red Hood is on the balcony of your boyfriend's apartment. How did he avoid tripping the alarm? You go to open the window but he opens it himself.

Shit. Is Hood breaking into Jason's apartment? Who the hell do you call in this situation?

"Hey," he says, voice tight. "Get your bag. We gotta go. Scarecrow and Ivy teamed up and it's bad."

"What? Okay. Oh my God." You jump into action, running into Jason's room to get your stuff. You come back, about to climb out the window, but you stop. He waves you over urgently. You shake your head and take a step back.

"No, I can't go without Jason," you say. "He was supposed to be back by now. What if he's gassed? He hasn't called me."

Hood fidgets, his whole body restless. He looks around, then looks back at you. "I'm sure he's fine. You can call him again when you're—"

"No," you say, staring those glowing white eyes down. "I don't care what authority you might hold, Hood. I'm not leaving Jason. He might come back here and he'll worry if I'm not here. I was going to go look for him."

"Don't do that," he says firmly. "Jesus." He looks at you, rolls his shoulders, then sighs. He shakes his head and grabs his helmet.

"Fuck," he says. "Fuck, I didn't wanna do it this way. Shit. Okay."

The latches of his helmet click. And suddenly you have your boyfriend in front of you, dressed like the Red Hood. He drops his helmet on the floor.

Your mouth falls open. "Wh—Jason? What? Are you–you were him the whole time? Are you fucking ser—"

"I know, I'm sorry." He takes your hands. "I'm sorry, honey. I wasn't gonna tell you this way but you're so stubborn, worrying about me and shit. I promise you can yell at me as much as you want after. You can throw stuff, hit me, break up with me, anything you want, just—"

You squeeze his hands. Jason stops his senseless ramble.

"I would never do any of those things," you say. "You don't know me at all if you think I would, Jay. I'm just, y'know, caught off-guard. Apparently, I've had a crush on my boyfriend since he before he became my boyfriend."

He cracks a smile. You roll your eyes.

"And you've been a smug asshole about it this whole time!"

"Kinda," he admits, looking away, and you see how pleased he's been about the whole thing. "I'll make it up to ya."

"Yeah, you better. Where are we going?"

Jason's shoulders slump with relief. You see it in his eyes too.

"You'll go with me?"

"Always," you say.

He takes his helmet, shifting from your boyfriend back to Red Hood. Wow. "Okay. Down the fire escape. We're taking my bike."

Jason puts his helmet back on. You follow him down the fire escape and to where his—Hood's—bike is parked.

"Your bike, huh?" you ask.

"My other bike."

"Uh-huh."

Hood gives you a rebreather and you take off, headed toward the Diamond District. He goes down a ramp and through some pretty fancy gates. Where...?

Concrete walls slide open and Jason pulls into what looks like a lair. Holy shit. He helps you off and you take off your helmet, staring up at a cave ceiling that seems to go on forever.

"Hood," someone growls, startling your gaze back down. Batman is glaring at you. "Why is there a civilian here?"

Jason takes off his helmet. "Yeah, so, this is my girlfriend. She's staying here, and if you try to kick her out, I'm gonna blow up the Batmobile. Cool? Cool."

"Since when do you have a girlf—" begins Red Robin.

"No questions," Jason snaps. "Not one word. Be nice to her or I'll kill you all."

You gasp. Jason turns to you, pulling you closer.

"No, sorry, I wouldn't do that. No deaths. They would recover from my maiming," he says to you, petting your shoulder.

"Not better," you hiss.

He shrugs, smiling. "'M a man of habit. Gonna try to change me now?" He kisses your cheek and you melt like you always do under his affection. Jason leans in and whispers the last part: "You could. I'd let ya."

"Wow," says Spoiler. Is the entire Gotham vigilante taskforce here? "So it's true what they say about married life."

"We aren't married," you say, confused. Jason grunts in annoyance, cradling the small of your back.

"With how he's acting? You might as well be," she says.

"This is so awesome," Nightwing says, full of glee. "Oh, you'll never hear the end of this, Jason."

"Listen, Dickbag—"

"Focus," Batman says. "She can't be here. Take her upstairs and come right back."

Jason rolls his eyes. "Sure, fine. C'mon, baby."

Robin is glaring at you, which kind of makes you want to throw up. But then Black Bat and Spoiler wave at you, and that makes you feel better. You wave back.

"Batman's really mad," you say as Jason leads you upstairs.

"Yeah, that's his default setting. He's been mad for about twenty-five years. He'll get over it. You're gonna meet Alfred next. He's the best."

"Alfred?"

You get to the top of the stairs and step into what looks like a mansion. Wait a minute. You've seen this mansion before. In a magazine...

"Is this Wayne Manor? What the hell, Jason? Am I meeting the Queen of Denmark next?"

"Again, not how I wanted you to find out," he says.

"I'm–I'm not dressed to be in Wayne Manor!"

"Bruce dresses up as a bat every night. Rest assured that you are the most normal person in this house, and none of those freaks downstairs can ever take that away from you."

You frown. "Still..."

"Don't y'trust me?" Jason asks, tapping under your chin. He towers over you, and now you notice that his Red Hood boots are taller than his normal ones. Clever.

"Yeah, I trust you, but—" You stop as Jason herds you against the wall, helmet dangling from his hand. He looks very official with his guns and armored clothing. His black cargo pants are pulled taut around his thighs, outlining how thick they are. It's just now occurring to you how deadly competent your boyfriend is, now that you've learned that the Red Hood was never that far away. Maybe you should be scared but, well, the wires were crossed a while ago.

"I didn't even suspect anything," you say, blinking at him. "You had me completely."

Jason shrugs, eyes half-lidded. You're not mad. He knows it. "Made sure you wouldn't find out. Wanted to find the right time, see how you felt about Hood. And then imagine my surprise when I learn that you've got his face on your wall, and his gloves in your dresser."

"You liked it," you say, lifting your chin, challenging.

Jason leans in, cupping the back of your neck, lips going to your ear. He wedges a knee between yours. "How could I not? You're so pretty, so nice t'me. Y'like me that much? Want me even like that? Tellin' Hood you love me, God—"

Something beeps, loud and shrill, and you jump. Jason just sighs exasperatedly, pulling out his phone and denying the alert.

"You have to go," you say, suddenly guilty you've kept Jason for so long.

"I—" Jason grimaces. "Yeah. I'll be back. We're not done."

You bite the inside of your lip. "I hope not."

Jason kisses you, hot and hard, and then he seems to steel himself, shifting into whatever Gotham needs him to be. He puts his helmet on and brushes your cheek, then disappears down the stairs to the Cave. You lean against the wall, catching your breath.

Maybe you'll put your poster back up.

#ASAHHHHHAHHAHHHHHH #need need need #i’m stupidly in love with him #fic rec #jason todd

2K notes · View notes

oncasette · 1 day ago

Note

hi can i request something along the lines of jason and reader going out with dick and kory, and dick/kory assume it's a double date but jason/reader are like "we're just 3rd wheeling"!! and they're like oblivious to one another's feelings

thanks for the request!

jason todd x fem!reader. dick/kory. best friend Jason. fluff, pining, getting together, bowling! 2.5k words

****

Gotham Bowling Alley isn't as crowded as you expected for a Saturday night. But that just means you four have your pick of the lanes. Dick has his own bowling ball from home, something Jason teased him for relentlessly in the car.

"Guess the kids don't bowl like they used to," Dick says in front of you, one arm around Kory's waist. Kory's arm is over Dick's back, her tight curls cascading down her and Dick's shoulders. You love seeing them together.

"We used to bowl all the time!" Dick adds. "Especially in the early Titans days."

"The fact that you call them kids dates you, man," Jason says. "You sound freakin' prehistoric."

Jason is beside you, looking ultra cool in his brown leather jacket and black jeans combo. Underneath, he has on a t-shirt that says ask me about my life insurance policy. He smells good too, warm and spicy like cider. You edge the tiniest bit closer to him.

It's not often you two get to hang out, between his schedule and yours, so you were delighted when Dick called you suggesting bowling. At first, you were hesitant.

Will Jason come? you'd asked.

I assumed he would if you would. Aren't you gonna tell him?

So you asked Jason, and he said yes, luckily. You were secure in the fact that you wouldn't be a sixteenth wheel around the happy couple. Jason never makes you feel left out.

"I do not sound prehistoric," Dick says, already at a full pout. "And at least I don't look like a Top Gun extra."

"Hey, 'Top Gun extra' is a hot look. I wear it well."

"I would gladly make montages of you jogging and flying planes to Danger Zone," you say.

"See? I'm just the cooler brother," Jason says. "Time to face the music."

"I'm being bullied, Kor," Dick tells his girlfriend. "See that?"

Kory pets Dick's head. "I see. But when we triumph in a battle of bowls, they will eat their words!"

"Wow, Kory. Do our Outlaw days mean nothing to you?" Jason asks, shaking his head. "No loyalty."

"This is war, Jason, and I am loyal to Dick first," she says, green eyes twinkling. "I am sure you are loyal to yours as well." She looks at you.

"'Course I am," he says. "Better her than you phonies! We're ride or die, ain't that right, buttercup?" He pats your back.

Buttercup. A nickname born out of the two weeks Jason spent in an actual real hospital due to breaking a bunch of bones and some serious internal bleeding. You'd visited him everyday, anxious over his recovery, and read The Princess Bride to him. Jason had called you his own Buttercup. You'd told him the anesthesia was making him kooky. But the name stuck.

You nod dutifully. "It's you and me till the end, Jay."

Jason points at Dick. "Hear that? Be very afraid."

"Uh-huh, well, before Kory and I beat you two, we're gonna get food," Dick says, grinning. "Jay, come help me. Can you set up the lane, babe?"

Kory nods. "Of course. I would like those wings of chicken."

"Sure. Spicy?"

"Yes."

Jason points at you. "Nachos, Nerds, and orange Fanta, right?"

"Aw, you do care," you say, smiling sweetly. "Someday you'll make some woman very happy, Todd."

"Unlikely, buttercup," Jason says, winking. "We'll be back. Make sure you trash talk Kory and throw her off her game."

"No such thing," Kory says, her smile radiant. "Though you are welcome to try."

He and Dick go to the snack counter. You follow Kory down the bowling floor. She stops at a lane.

"This one?" she asks. "I've only bowled once. It was not in an official setting."

"Yeah, this is a good spot."

You set up the scoreboard and the ball machine, making sure that the lane is ready for four players. Then you sit. You don't know Kory as well as Dick and Jason do. You don't know Dick so well either, though you're comfortable enough around him. But as far as vigilantes go, Jason is the only one you see regularly. He's your best friend. You always have something to talk about with Jason. You don't know why people say he's not a talker. There's never a dull moment with him.

And right now, the awkward silence is killing you.

"So..."

"How long have you and Jason been dating?"

You blink, words fizzling on your tongue.

"Uh," you begin. "What?"

"Did I misspeak?" Kory asks, suddenly concerned.

"No, you're fine, I just... Jason and I aren't dating."

"I do not understand."

"Jason and I are just friends, Kory."

She gestures between you, her brow furrowed. "But this is a double date. That is what Dick called it. He thought bowling together would be fun because we are both couples."

"Um." You laugh nervously. "No, we aren't together."

To your great misfortune, that is. Dating Jason is a dream. But who are you? You're not even a vigilante. Jason would want someone who can take care of themselves. Someone who's as cool as he is. Who's in his league. Like Dick and Kory. A couple that makes sense.

"But it is obvious that you should be together," she says. "Your feelings are very clear."

"What are you t—"

"That is so not true!" comes Dick's voice.

You look up as the boys return. Jason plops down next to you with your and his food. His thigh presses against yours, warm through his jeans. He arranges it so that you can reach your nachos easily.

Kory meets your gaze. You turn away, shoveling nachos into your mouth.

"I'm literally an expert marksman," Jason says. "Guns are my thing."

"You did not shoot a tripwire two thousand yards down a ravine, Jason. That's impossible."

"You don't know what I can do. I contain multitudes. Plus, my eyesight got way better when I came back to life. Knees still hurt, though." He leans back, throwing an arm over the seat you're sharing with him. You quickly sit up, pretending to be invested in your food. "Buttercup, you believe me, right?"

Your instinct is to say yes because, well, Jason is cool and he's really good at what he does. One time, he summoned the All Blades in front of you, and it was like you were in sixth grade again, incoherent from a crush.

Besides, it's Jason. You'd never be a contrarian with Jason.

But now you're second-guessing everything. What do you reveal every time you talk to Jason?

"Um," you say. "It does sound pretty difficult, Jason. I really don't know."

Jason sits up, smacking a hand over his chest. "Et tu? Betrayal! Have you no faith in me?"

"Ha!" Dick claps his hands. "See? I'm not the only doubter."

"You're s'posed to be on my side, buttercup," Jason says, crowding you. "What gives?"

Normally, you'd nudge him over. Now you scoot away as much as you can, skittish like a horse. "I just think it sounds a little exaggerated, that's all."

"Whatever," Jason mumbles, flopping against the seat. "You'll see. You'll all see."

"Right. Let's start the game before Jason becomes evil," Dick says. "Who wants to go first?"

"I will!" you say, jumping from your seat. "I'll go."

You don't even care about bowling anymore. You just need to make it through the night without it being horribly awkward. Dating. You and Jason, dating! Absurd!

You take the ball and bowl. It knocks over two pins. Jason claps loudly.

"Woo!" he cheers. "Yeah! Let's go!"

You huff, turning around. "Jason, that was a terrible throw."

"I think it was great. Hush up. My turn!"

He gets a spare, to no one's surprise. Dick gets a strike, which he rubs in Jason's face for ages. Kory knocks down five pins, and Dick kisses her enthusiastically. You swallow, focusing on your nachos.

On your fourth try, your confidence is in the gutter. You look up miserably at the scoreboard. You have a whopping nine points.

"Somebody blindfold me," you say, picking up the ball. "That'll be better than what I'm doing now."

"You can do it!" Dick says, clapping. "It's only for fun, don't worry about it."

"Oh, what do you know, Mr. Three-strikes-in-a-row?" You scowl. "This is so unfair. I'm playing against two former Robins and a space princess. I'd might as well try throwing boulders."

"Y'just need a little direction," Jason says, grinning. "Hold on."

He gets up and takes off his jacket, tossing it aside. You now see that the sleeves of his shirt are cropped, meaning you can see every curve of his scarred biceps. His forearms are smattered with dark hair, and there are veins that feed into each other from the backs of his hands. Jason has big hands.

"For the record, I'd combine our scores," he says, coming up behind you. "And I don't care if we lose. But I think you deserve a fightin' chance, buttercup. C'mere, gimme your hand."

You raise your hand with the ball. Jason lays his arm and his upper body on yours. You squirm.

"Wh-what're you doing?" you ask, feeling Jason adjust your stance. He turns your hips gently and brings your arm back, swinging with you.

"Giving you some tips. You're learning how to bowl from the reigning champ."

"Not even a little true," Dick says. "I'm the bowling champion. He's better at soccer. And even then, meh."

"He's a damn sore loser, huh?" Jason whispers in your ear. You squirm again, this time wriggling out of his grip. Jason stops, watching you.

"What's up with ya?" he asks, tilting his head.

"I'm just ticklish," you say quickly, grateful that you aren't too flustered to speak. How did you not see it before? Jason doesn't touch anyone the way he touches you. You love it, obviously, welcome it in tenfold. But have you been misreading everything? Is it really so obvious?

"Well, I can't direct ya from over here. Here, I'll just guide your arm." Jason comes back, and while he doesn't drape himself over you like before, he's still plenty close. You shiver at the feeling.

"You can't throw it for her, Jason, that's cheating," Kory says.

"Quiet from the gallery," Jason says, nudging you and smiling. You smile back nervously. He winds your arm back with his. "Alright, ready? Three, two... let go!"

You let go, and the ball sails smoothly down the center. Eight pins fall, more than you've knocked down before. You gasp in surprise.

"Hell yeah!" Jason says, pumping his fist. "That's what I'm talking about."

"Nice job," Dick says. "You're still going down, though."

But on your next turn, Jason helps you again, and this time, you get a strike. You get so excited, you throw yourself into Jason's arms for a hug. He squeezes you back, telling you how proud he is. The words slip out.

"You're so great, I love you," you say, overcome with joy. It quickly disappears when you feel Jason's arms slacken.

"Um," you begin, and laughing nervously. Jason is starting to pull away. You have to beat him to it. "I don't know why... I need to use the bathroom!"

You force his arms off of you and turn tail. You run to the bathroom, locking yourself in the first stall. You lean against the door.

Okay. Deep breaths. You need to figure out which country you're going to run away to. Someplace where the Red Hood is wanted. You have options.

Why did Kory have to say that to you? Why couldn't she just let you live in blissful, pining friendship forever? Now you've gone and fucked everything up anyway. There's no way that Jason's not going to know something's going on with you.

Maybe you can sneak out the back exit and text Dick that you felt sick. Blame it on the nachos. Yeah, that's good. No one else ate your nachos so no one will know that—

"Hey. Think maybe we should talk."

You wince at Jason's voice. "Talk about what?"

"Oh, y'know. The weather, Gotham's crime rates... you sayin' y'love me and then running away."

"I don't wanna talk about it, Jason. I'm sick."

"Yeah, like that one's ever worked on me. C'mon, buttercup. We gotta talk sometime. 'S what my therapist tells me, anyway. And don't think I won't stand outside the women's bathroom all night, 'cause I will."

You groan. You know he will too.

The stall door opens with a creak. You walk out in a slump. A woman passes you both, giving Jason a weird look. He tips an invisible hat at her. "Ma'am."

You go to a more private corner outside the bathrooms, near the entrance. Jason leans against the wall on his side, crossing his arms.

"Dick and Kory think we're dating," you say.

"What? Who told you that?"

You fidget with your hands. "Kory said they invited us because they thought we were a couple. Tonight was supposed to be a double date."

"Huh." Jason puts a hand on his waist. "But we're not dating."

You roll your eyes. "Yes, Jason, I am aware. Look, I just got in my head about it and freaked out a little, but it's fine now. We're not dating. End of story."

"Be nice if we were, though."

Your eyes widen. Jason shrugs, a little sheepish, far too casual.

"What?" you squeak.

"Hmm." He glances in Dick's direction, then sighs. "Yeah. I think I did this."

"You told Dick we were dating?"

"No, Christ, no. I may not be all there," Jason says, tapping his temple. "But gimme some credit. No, uh... Dick figured out that I like you. That I'm in love with you. Normally, I'd be scared shitless to admit this, 'specially 'cause you've been skittish with me for most of the night, which I can only assume the worst from. But Dick told me he thinks you feel the same. He might be a dumbass, actually, but I'm realizing that I need to tell ya or I'll go insane. So, y'know, here it is. Ta-da."

He does jazz hands. You stare, speechless.

"Okay." Jason nods once. "He's a dumbass. I shouldn't have listened to him. BRB, gotta go commit fratricide."

"No, wait, Jason—" You hold his arm. He stops. You've never realized that, how Jason will wait when you tell him to wait. A look from you would stop him in his tracks. Jason will always follow your lead.

"I think..." Your hand slips down to hold his wrist. "I think we're the dumbasses."

"You're not a dumbass," he says immediately. "I can be one, though. Continue."

You smile. "I think everyone knows we have feelings for each other. Everyone except us."

"You-?"

You hum. "It sort of made me spiral. Kory said my feelings for you were obvious and I freaked out. Sorry."

"Nah, it's cool. When Dick confronted me about it, I almost fucked off to Bali for a month. He convinced me to be somewhat normal about it, though."

Jason moves so that you're holding hands. He swings your arms once. God, you're in love. You love your best friend. And he loves you back.

"Wanna get outta here and go on a real date?" he asks.

Dick Grayson can beat you at bowling all he wants. You know who the real winner is.

#love of my life #fic rec #jason todd

556 notes · View notes

oncasette · 1 day ago

Text

what do you need from me tonight? .𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪

i don’t care if you’re sick, i don’t care if you’re contagious.

𖥔 summary since befriending tim drake you have known exactly how he feels about his brothers: offlimits, forbidden, do not enter! this was never too difficult to maintain, never too hard to turn away when one smiles a little too bright, yet when sweet and sultry jason walks into the room it become harder to turn the other cheek.

𖥔 pairing jason todd x reader

𖥔 genre/tw best friends brother au!! fem!reader !! reader is tim’s bff, fluff! angst?! probably suggestive at times i can’t lie, intoxication, swearing !! jason is a softie, none of that charmer fuck boy jason here!! petnames, kissing, reader and jason are real yearners !! reader and tim are supposed to be like 21-22 which puts Jason at like 25-26 or so (in my mind) batfam mentions and cameos! we love!! librarian!jason !! historian!reader !! tim and reader are platonic soulmates <3 also tim calls reader chicken, idk why!! also thers gonna be typos and run on sentences probably (i blacked out)

𖥔 w/c 8.3k and some change

𖥔 a/n this came to me in a dream… idk i just feel like tim has such strong protective girl bestie vibes so this is what happened. i love tim and reader and reader and jason and i really hope you do too!! lemme know xoxo

masterlist | requests open!!

Since the moment you became friends with Tim Drake, you understood his brothers were completely off limits. It was apparent in how he would go out of his way to not mention them by name—only my brother this or my brothers that—it was in the look of pure disgust when someone would bring up just how hot his oldest brother was when he showed up on the news: alerting the public not to be worried about some crime in Blüdhaven. Even you, his best friend since the trauma of Philosophy 204 bonded you together, were not allowed to ask about them without a deadly glare shooting your way.

You understood, if you had a famous family full of wealthy handsome boys, you too would want to keep them aware from your friends. You shudder at the thought of some girl asking if your brother was single, thus whenever Tim gives you attitude about it, you allow yourself to laugh it off. It wasn’t until the summer between Freshman and Sophomore year that you were even allowed near Wayne Manor, and into the lives of his illustrious family.

Now, five years into your friendship, you could say that you’ve fit yourself into Tim’s life quite nicely. Being his favorite lady, you’re often his date to galas and Sunday brunches with the wives of Wayne Enterprises, The person who comes along when Bruce says “you can bring a friend”, and most special, who he turns to when one of his brothers annoys him. Like now,

“I just don’t know why I’m suddenly Damian’s chauffeur," Tim says, a familiar annoyance seeping from his voice. “Like, my father has billions of dollars yet I have to be the one to drive my little brother around, come on.”

You laugh, but the easy way in which he talks about his family’s wealth brings a bad taste to your mouth… You, a girl born and raised in the lower sector of Gotham, find it quite gross how easy your friend throws his money around sometimes, which you remind him with a swat on the back of his head. “Hey! what the fuck was that for?” He exclaims with a laugh.

“Timothy, you know better than to be all waspy when I’m around…” you sigh, “and anyway, it’s not like Damian goes anywhere but the library and the planetarium… he's just a kid.”

“A kid who threatens to poison me if I don’t buy him bug juice—which I gotta say he is getting too old for.”

“Ahh, Timmy, are you just sad about your baby brother growing up?” You say, pouting your lips in the exact way you know annoys him.

You’ve always thought it’s funny how annoyed Tim gets about Damian, a boy who’s only ever sweet to you—asking you about your favorite animals and telling you about the new exhibits at Gotham’s Natural History Museum. “I don’t get why it's so terrible, Dami’s just a sweetheart,”

“Ugh, maybe to you,” Tim replies, “he just thinks you’re cool cause you work at the Historical Society and you make fun of me,”

“Well, there’s a lot to make fun of.”

“Ha.Ha. Real funny guess who's uninvited to Dick’s birthday party.” With this, you pause. It’s true that most of the parties surrounding Tim’s family are unnecessarily boring and involve fitting into a tight dress and making your hair look presentable. There’s been quite a few times when you’ve wished that Tim would go with someone else and gift you the reprieve from a drawn out conversation with a doctor or a politician, (or whoever else Mr. Wayne invites to drum up philanthropy). However, you look forward to Dick’s birthday every year; a night filled with laughter and sweet drinks, getting to see Dick and his girlfriend Kory get a little too drunk and attempt to do gymnastics on the club’s dancefloor… Even better, it’s the one chance you really get to see Jason, Tim’s older and outcasted brother..

You remember the first time you met him, a Friday dinner you accompanied Tim to… It was the one night a week Alfred was free from dinner duty, thus the two of you had brought chinese and gelato for dessert and Damian kept pestering you about bringing him to the Zoo to see the snakes.

You had already met everyone else, Dick with his charming smile and the spark in his eyes when he pulled your chair out (you’re sure it had more to do with annoying his brother than being a gentleman,) You’d met Duke when he followed his brother into university becoming a welcome third to your little group, and his father–Initmaditing and encompassing Bruce Wayne, but you’d never met Jason.

You’d heard about him, heard the sighs from his father when he noticed his second son hadn’t shown up… Watched the careful way he was spoken about by his family, in past tenses and thinly veiled sadness. Tim had rarely brought him up to you, barely mentioning how there was some sort of accident, how it destroyed their father and separated Jason from himself and his family.

You never liked seeing your best friend sad, it hurt too much to see his blue eyes gloss over, so you never brought him up, yet you couldn’t lie and say you weren’t curious. You remember seeing it on the news, the day that Jason Todd went missing… It wasn’t surprising to hear about a missing boy–living in Gotham meant a new tragedy every day–yet, you remember being shocked that something would happen to that bright young boy, grinning ear to ear in the school picture the news showed.

You were only twelve, but you can think back and see so vividly the magic behind that smile, and how sad you were to realize that this boy, who could have very well gone to school with your sister, was gone… How sad he must be, you remember thinking, to be without his family.

He was quite the mystery to you, more so after becoming friends with Tim, his brother who would so rarely mention him. It was when you saw him slouching at the dinner table and arguing with Dick, that your curiosity came back, you couldn’t believe it–he was so handsome, prettier than the newspaper made him look, and so tall, but you remembered Tim… Remembered how upset he got when Hannah Beauchamp asked him for his brother’s telephone number, so all you did was smile and say hello.

After that you saw Jason more often, always quiet, always bright, but it was still glaringly rare… You never knew when he’d be there, unlike Dick who is unquestionable in his loyalty to family functions, Jason could be everywhere and nowhere all at once. Thus, the only surefire way to see him, is to go to Dick’s birthday, a gathering that Jason always appears at, showing his rare smile and a rare wish to his big brother.

You can’t be uninvited, you really can’t be…

“Timmy, you know I love you,” you say, giggling at the way his nose scrunches, “Please let me go with you to Dick’s party? Please please please!! I didn’t mean it, it’s so hard to make fun of you!”

You know you’ve won when his head tilts, nose sticking straight up like an aristocrat in a children’s novel, you know you’ve won because he sighs into a sweet smile–bringing his hand up to muss your hair.

“You know I can’t go anywhere without you, Chicken.” At his words you unceremoniously jump at him, encircling him into your grasp and squealing out ‘thank you’s.’ “But,” you groan. “You have to come with me tonight… If I have to hear Damian go on and on about Casseiopeia, you do too.”

⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄

The party was in full force when you arrived, music blaring, couples kissing, the whole nine; It smelled like sweat and tequila, and fancy perfume, and you wished you could feel this way more often.

Tim doesn’t like going out, doesn’t feel safe bringing you out into the Gotham nightlife–your best friend, sweet and loyal and protective, over his family, over you… You know he’s just looking out for you, but the frustrated sighs and the “that place isn’t safe for a little Chicken like you,” get exhausting. He gets frustrated when you go out by yourself, insistent that your group of girls would be much safer if you guys partied at home, yet he never seems to have a problem if his brothers are there too… more eyes on you, he says when you ask.

Still, you wouldn’t trade him for the world–how lucky were you, that your best friend cared so much…

He had gasped when he picked you up, a caricature of your sisters and girlfriends: he squealed and told you he loved your dress, (as if he wasn’t the one who paid for it), a routine that was familiar and warm. He’d driven you both himself, complaining about traffic and assholes who don’t use their blinker, he was telling you about his day and the “insolent” acts Damian committed at school. It was rather nice, just you and Tim listening to shitty pop-punk and laughing, a familiar scene that’s gotten rarer and rarer as his responsibilities have piled on.

He had squeezed your hand before getting out of the car, smiling at you with earnest eyes and a mischievous grin, and told you: “If Dick’s friend Wally hits on you, tell him I still have the pictures from last summer.”

You were a ball of nerves in the elevator, stomach dropping as it went up, up, up to the Penthouse, shying away from the stares and whispers that follow Tim around. But now, encased in house music and the saccharine smell of young lust and birthday magic, your anxiety eases and the smile you send your best friend’s way is finally sincere.

He takes your hand to lead you through the erratic rhythm of dancing bodies, sending dirty looks to men who look at you too long, leading you through the suite like he’s Orpheus on a mission. He doesn’t turn back to smile at you until you’ve reached your destination, the large rooftop patio where the pool lives, here you find Dick–front flipping into the pool fully clothed. His form is perfect, spinning into the water with a ballerina like elegance, a visage so striking against the electronica pumping through the night.

He comes up for air with far less grace, however, shaking his hair out like a dog and yelling at Kory to join him. When he sees his little brother, his face breaks into the most earth-shattering smile, before he breaks into senseless giggles–telling everyone, “You guys! My baby brother Timmy is here!”

Tim, a boy who loves his brothers more than anyone except maybe you, grins at the older boy's voice–pulling you along to greet him properly.

“Happy birthday, Dick!” You tell him, voice raising to be heard over the music and the squealing euphoria of his guests.

“Oh my! Timmy’s little Chicken is here!” Dick’s fondness for you is no surprise, as a professional older brother it is his job to love everyone his siblings love. “Jason! Look who's here!”

It's almost comical how fast you look up, how curious you are to see him, so curious you don’t hear Tim’s sigh or the way his hold on your arm tightens. Like Magic, Jason stands in front of you, leaning against a wall like a poor parody of James Dean. He looks a bit put out, a little annoyed to be interrupted in what looks like a riveting conversation with Roy Harper– a man you’ve only ever met through Tim’s phone on nights when he goes out without you.

“Hey guys,” He says, friendly enough yet you can’t help but notice how much tenser he looks now that Tim stands before him. “Timmy, I heard you’re taking up more and more roles at Dad’s,” he sounds strained, but it’s obvious that he’s trying.

“Yeah, our little baby brother is awesome, Bird, but let’s not forget it’s my turn to receive your compliments.” Dick exclaims, panting a bit from treading water.

“Yeah, yeah, Dickie, you just gotta wait for it, man.” Jason says, before turning back to Roy, you know at once that their exchange is over, you’re not sure what happened… It seems almost like Tim and Jason fought, niceties were exchanged, yes, but the look in their eyes: exhausted and awkward, says more than the short conversation they shared.

They get like this sometimes, a phenomenon you don’t quite understand… You’ve witnessed moments where they seem like best friends, joking and joining together in teasing Damian, yet there's other times… Moments like this, when it seems like there's years of separation and frustration between them.

You can feel Tim pulling you away, his hold on your hand a little tighter than you would like it to be… You can hear Dick yelling at him to stay, ‘the waters nice and warm,’ he yells, yet it's obvious he’s not too worried about it once Kory swims over to him. More than anything you can see Jason, nodding at you from his place against the wall–his drink tipping your way as if to say goodbye.

You’re still a little confused when Tim drags you back into the suite to dance, finding Conner and Stephanie along the way. The four of you twirl and laugh and drink, the boys spinning you and Steph around and around–passing the two you back and forth until you're dizzy and drunk. Tim’s hands steady you, leading you in a crazy dance the two of you made up junior year, and grinning when you drunkenly tell him you love him. The night is alive, it’s burning with winter yearning and the feeling that you’d never be this young again. How you love your friends, how you wonder what's ailing them.

⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄

The music is thunderous, eating away at your ear drums and seeping into your bones until your body sings along. You’re not sure what time it is any more, or where Tim went… Your last memory is Conner giving you his jacket before pulling your friend away, a sight that made you giggle and roll your eyes. Steph’s seemed to disappear too, leaving you all alone on the dance floor, swaying in time with the music and whispering jokes to nobody.

The crowd seems to have gotten bigger and the drinks stronger, a revelation that sends you in search of Tim or Dick, or someone you know. Yet, you can’t find them anywhere, off with Conner and Kory surely, abandoning you with only vodka and an empty chip bowl to keep you company. The party seems lonelier now, the music dull and throbbing in your ears, and all the dancing seems out of rhythm. It’s almost like you’ve stepped out of the faery ring, released yourself from an enchantment, and now everything that was once magic is all wrong.

That things happening, that thing where you begin to have nostalgia for the moment you’re in, a kind of bittersweetness veiling over your eyelids as you take in the dark room. This happens sometimes, where you get a sudden case of the blues–too much adrenaline, too much happiness for one person, so it comes out as sad. It doesn’t help that you’re all alone, that Tim left you to go kiss Conner and you don’t really know anyone else, not truly–not the way you need to know them for a moment like this.

You find yourself on the stairs, leaning against the railing as you attempt to regain your balance. The world seems to be spinning, whether it's from the alcohol or all the dancing you’re unsure of, yet the sky seems to be under your feet. You wished Tim was here… he always knew what to do, always knew how to make you laugh when you’re sad and get you home without a scratch… Stupid Conner, you think, stealing your best friend from you when you need him most… typical.

It's minutes later that you feel someone nudging you awake, shaking you from your place on the stairs. The person's hands are rough and warm and gentle, easing you back into consciousness, accompanied by whispers of “come on, little one.”

You don’t feel very good, the alcohol and the sadness filling your throat with the taste of vomit, yet you find it in yourself to look up. Light invades your senses and that same blaring electronica finds a home in your ears again, a repeated refrain of call on me beating into your bones. You find the eyes of the intruder, green like summer; they’re looking down at you in concern, all squinty like a crescent moon. It's not until the song changes that you realize it’s Jason looking at you, your mystery come to find you.

“Jason?” you ask, your voice covered in sleep and intoxication. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing, Where’s Timmy?”

“Off with Conner.” You harrumph, sneering at his name as if they aren’t two of your most treasured friends.

“And he left you all alone?” He looks a little surprised by this, and a little upset, a combination that will surely keep you up thinking about what it means.

“Yeah, can you believe that?! He’s a treacherous traitor who betrayed me.”

“You know, I’m pretty sure all those things mean the same thing.” He laughs a little, and you wish you were sober just so you could really hear him, the fear you feel that you might not remember this fills you with dread. It's so rare that you get to see him, so rare that you get to talk to him without Tim around to make things different and tense… your crush on Jason is not so hidden, a truth that eats at you in moments like this. You’re sure they probably all know, can all see how flustered you get around him, but you’d never act on it–you’d never do anything to hurt Tim, (that includes kissing his brothers), thus you pretend like it doesn’t affect you as much as it does. But here now, with Jason sitting next to you on the stairs, sharing space and oxygen and more words than you’ve ever spoken to each other before, you feel it becoming harder and harder to pretend.

“Why are you sitting with me, Jason?” You ask him.

‘What?” He replies, eyes wide in shock or maybe confusion. “You’re my little brother’s best friend and you’re asleep on the stairs, why wouldn’t I be sitting with you.” His voice is pure Gotham, it brings a smile to your lips.

“I see, is it just because I’m Timmy’s best friend.”

“Are you flirting with me, Casanova?” he laughs, bringing a bottle of water up to his lips.

“Never ever, Mr. Todd, I swear it, cross my heart.” You can see how he’s smiling, goofier than you’ve ever seen it, less sculpted than the usual smirky grin he wears around his brothers.

“You’re drunk.” He says, before handing you his bottle of water, “Drink.” He says it like a command, like something you couldn’t say no to even if you tried, so you listen, yet you can’t stop thinking about his lips around it just a few seconds before. It invades your senses– the image of his rosebud lips curling around the top like a kiss… What is a kiss if not two mouths touching? What is a kiss without a kiss? Shared saliva and phantom smiles pressing against your own?

One of his large hands goes to the bottom of the plastic bottle–tipping it up further as if to get you to drink more, his eyes swallow you, commanding eye contact as the water tumbles down your throat. “That’s a good girl.” He tells you, voice low and pleasing. It’s only when the bottle is empty that he takes his hand away, lowering the bottle from your lips and looking back into the humid party.

How handsome he is, you think, it’s obvious he dressed up a little more for this than when you usually see him. He’s in all black, slacks and t-shirt displaying some 90s anime, he even has jewelry on: silver rings and heavy chains around his neck… He looks ravishing, like someone should take him home before other people can perceive him. You remember that first time you saw him, that fifteen year old boy on the news who looked like Peter Pan; you remember how you felt when you read that he was missing, if only you could have told yourself you would have found him one day.

“Jason?” You whisper, “Where did you go?” He’s surprised at the question, that much is obvious, but he doesn’t seem mad, more tired; exhausted by the memory.

“Neverland.” He whispers back, a response that brings a smile to your lips even though it’s not an answer.

“What was it like?”

“Hmm,” he says, thinking about his answer. “Well, it was pretty, there were pirates and mermaids, and little fairy girls like you.” That makes you laugh, a big booming thing that escapes.

“I’m a little fairy girl, now?”

“Oh yeah, I saw you spinning earlier… round and round like you were trying to fly.”

“Well, I’m all out of pixie dust.” You tell him, which brings that goofy smile back to his pretty face.

He doesn’t say anything else, just sits quietly with you, humming songs he knows and snorting at the drunken antics of Dick’s guests. It’s nice, just sitting with him–there is no need to fill the space, just peace and quiet. Finally, when you’re feeling sober enough to be a little worried by his answer, you ask, “Why’d you leave? I mean what made you come home?”

It takes him a moment to answer, but when he does it’s full of secrets and saved up sadness, his voice gruff with the memory of it. “I just had to grow up I guess.”

⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄

Days later you’re still thinking about that conversation on the stairs, how sad he looked… how vulnerable and young he appeared. When Tim finally showed himself, he was shocked to find you with his brother, thanking him over and over again for keeping you company. You remember how Jason smiled, sweet and sleepy, before he said No problem, Timmy, you just get her home safe. It’s less of a memory and more of a dream, like you went off to Neverland too.

It was difficult to find sleep that night, too shaken and embarrassed by your own behavior… Nerves ate at your brain every time you thought about how natural it was to talk to him, nerves that only got worse when you wake up to a text from an unknown number:

‘Hey, fairy girl, it’s J. just want to make sure you got back alright’

It filled you with heat and parasitic flutters in your belly, but you couldn’t answer… couldn’t get over the guilt you felt when imagining Tim’s reaction, no matter how innocent it all was. So you left it alone, didn’t answer him and went on with your day as normal as you could make it: lunches with Tim and group chat gossip with Duke and Stephanie, anything that could distract you from the fire blazing in your veins.

You were still a little cross with Tim for leaving you all alone, but after making him take you out to breakfast and promise to buy you whatever you wanted for the next week, you thought you’d cut him some slack. He was acting a little weird, he kept making that face that only conjures itself when he’s trying to figure something out, and he repeatedly asked you if Jason said anything interesting to you– a question that has you shaking your head every time.

His words were just for you, you knew that more than you knew anything, so even though it was unfamiliar, you kept it from your best friend.

It’s been a week since that fateful night, a week full of sleeplessness and butterflies when you thought about his bright eyes and warm hands. You’ve always had a bit of a crush, but now it's stifling–incinerating you with the absolute truth of it. Even here at work it suffocates you, presses down in between the dark archives of old newspapers and preserved textiles. It's just another day of paperwork and organization, studying old books on Cherry Hill in hopes to find something that could help stop the impending gentrification.

Tim’s on his way with lunch, something Alfred cooked up to be sure, an exciting but slightly unnerving prospect. You’ve never been afraid of your best friend before, but you’ve also never kept a secret from him… you know it's not a big deal, so what if you and Jason had a sleepy drunken conversation at Dick’s birthday party? It wasn’t like you kissed! Hell, his hands barely even touched your skin except to wake you up, yet the fear of hurting Tim is so massive and encompassing you can’t help but feel like you need to hide it.

You hear him say hello to your coworkers, hear his graceful steps down into the basement, he takes the stairs two at a time. When he finally arrives in front of you, he is jovial–smiling wider than you’ve seen in awhile. He dawdles on, handing you your lunch and telling you about how Alfred made twice the amount so all his kids could have some. It’s nice to hear him speak about his family, you relish in it… how happy he sounds when he speaks of his brothers, Alfred and Stephanie, the smile in his voice when he tells you you’re invited to another Friday Dinner.

“Barbara and Kory are coming too, you’ll be there, yeah?”

“Yeah, Definitely,” You tell him, but your heart isn’t in it. Tim notices it, of course he does, but he doesn’t call it out. You’ve been acting strange lately, but he trusts that you’d come to him if you really needed help. He stays until you both finish your lunch, kissing you on the head before he heads back towards the WE building; the guilt creeps back in when he leaves, roots of shaming entangling you like vipers.

This routine follows you into the week, Tim bringing lunch and stories of Conner and Duke and the mischief they’ve gotten themselves into. Your work kept you busy, working late into the night– the book you found on the Founding of Gotham was interesting, and it was proving to be rather helpful in proving your suspicions that the original City Hall was located in the Cherry Hill suburb of Gotham City. You hoped you’d be able to find all the sources you needed, but it was becoming a bigger and bigger project than you ever realized–a project that was impeding on your life.

It was late into the afternoon when Jason came to see you, bringing with him a smile and something hidden in his book bag.

“Knock-knock, Little fairy, can I come in?” He asks you, halting on the last step. It's dark down here, lit only with lamps and reading lights, still he is beautiful–the white streak in his hair curling down over his eyes. He looks rather comfy, wrapped up in a sweater and a leather jacket, his book bag crossing over his chest and falling around his hip. God, he’s lovely, and he’s here… Why is he here?

“What are you doing here?” You ask, startled by his presence and the life it brings.

“I wanted to bring you some flowers,” He tells you, a secret smile playing on his lips. You look at his empty hands, a confused grin finding its way to your face.

“Where are the flowers, Jason?” You laugh, although it halts when that goofy grin emerges again. Looking at you slyly he takes something out from his bag, pulling out a stack of books and handing them to you. Still confused you shuffle the pile to read each title,

Dandelion Wine, White Oleander, The Chrysanthemums, Daisy Miller, The Secret Garden…

Oh dear, you think, how sweet is this boy? And why? After you’d ignored his message…

“Flowers,” he says, tilting his head towards you, that charming smile still living on his face.

Who is this wonderful, handsome boy? When his brothers speak of him, they describe him as gruff and unlikable–mean and sulky. Yet this Jason is bright and euphoric, sweet and happy and mischievous…

He brought you flowers… flowers that you could keep on your shelf forever; stories of life and sadness and magic.

“Oh my,” you say, “Thank you, Jason.”

“Of course, I wanted to make sure you were okay…” He hesitates for a minute before continuing on, “Y’know, you never answered my text and I thought maybe Dickie gave me the wrong number.”

“Oh, no it was the right number,” you sigh. “I just don’t want Tim to feel weird about the two of us becoming friends…”

“Are we becoming friends then,” he asks you, eyes brighter than before. He looks so young like this, starry eyed and grinning like he won a blue ribbon.

“I don’t know, Jason, are we?”

“I’m inclined to say yes, fairy girl. I don’t steal books from the library for just anyone.”

Shocked, you turn the books over and sure enough, the library's barcode sits against the hardcover.

“Jason! What the hell?! You can’t just steal from the library!” You yell, yet all he does is laugh. It’s such a pretty sound, deep and melodious like a song you can’t forget the words to. You wonder how often he really laughs like this, true and belly-full, like he means it.

“I work at the library, Sugar, don’t worry.” He rasps out, “I’m the person who has to buy the new books anyway… so don’t worry about it.” The pet name rolls off his tongue salaciously, finding its way into your tummy, filling you with warmth and a vision of him at Gotham City Public Library. You’re not sure how you never knew, how you never saw him there in your late night book runs for your work. It fills you with fondness and makes your smile somehow brighter than it already was.

“Well, thank you anyway, J.” You tell him. “Really, no one's ever given me flowers before.”

When his eyes meet yours the floor shakes beneath you, destabilizing you into nervous fidgeting and shy smiles. You can’t believe this is happening, can’t believe your mystery is standing in front you–vulnerable and handsome and smiling. He brought you flowers… God, what are you going to tell Tim?

You see he’s getting ready to leave, so you ask (quicker than you thought possible,) “Do you wanna stay for a while? I’m just reading through some sources, but it might be better with company?” The smile he gives you is serendipitous, magical and dreamlike.

He stays with you long into the night, reading all the left pages as you read the right and sharing his own suspicions. He mentions books at the library that might be useful, and tells you how cool he thinks what you’re doing is, he smiles the whole time. It's late when you finish, yawning and blinking away the strain, he looks more and more like that school picture you once fawned over– young and happy, Peter Pan.

He insists on walking you home, leading you through the still busy Gotham Streets with a hand grazing your back and a watchful eye on the city. Every once in a while he stops to make sure you’re going the right way, and to ask if you’re still alright, a question that brings a smile to your lips and goosebumps on your skin.

When you finally make it home, skin bitten cold and his jacket hanging off your shoulders, he smiles faintly at you, bringing his hand up to push a loose strand of hair back behind your ear.

As he turns to leave he tells you,

“Don’t forget to get those flowers in some water, see you Friday,” And with the way your heart stops, you know you’re doomed.

⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄

Tim Drake is lots of things, but a fool is not one of them. He sees how different Jason is acting during patrol: stumbling over ledges and pulling out the wrong gun. He’s been weird since Dick’s party, quicker to smile and more interested in you than ever before… he remembers seeing Jason try to covertly listen to the Comm when Dick asked Tim how you were,

“How’s Chicken Little doing, Timmy?”

But before he could answer, Damian swiftly responded:

“She doesn’t like it when you guys call her that, can’t you see her nose scrunch up in disgust? Honestly you’re all a bunch of buffoons.”

Tim, however offended he might be at Damian thinking he knows you better than him, couldn’t help but focus on Jason instead. His face might be covered by his mask, yet his body language is unmistakable–he’s more interested than he should be.

“Might I remind all of you, she is off limits, do not disturb, dead end… I will kill you and send your entrails to Lex Luthor to make some weird clone of you if you even think about it.” This message is for all of them, but you’d have to be stupid to not realize it was really only for Jason–Dick and Kory have been basically engaged since they were 20 and Damian still drinks bug juice for God’s Sake… the only other person it could be is Duke, but if the gagging sounds he’s making over the comm mean anything, he doesn’t need to be worried.

Nobody says anything for a second, laughter from Dick and Duke creeping in through his ear piece, yet it all stops when Jason speaks up for the first time that night.

“You know, you really should let her make her own decisions… She’s not a little girl.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, Hood?” Tim asks, getting actually truly angry for the first time. There’s a reason why he tried to keep you to himself in the beginning of your friendship, he knows you think it’s because he didn’t want you to date his brothers, but really he didn’t want to have to share another thing. So much of his life belongs to his family, he just wanted one thing to belong to him.

“Don’t get angry, please, Birdie?” Jason replies, there's no heat in it, just exhaustion.

“What. Do. You. Mean? Hood?” Tim says again, getting more and more frustrated by the minute.

“I just mean she’s a grown up, and she should be allowed to talk to whoever she wants to, even if it weirds you out.”

It strikes Tim as something that wouldn’t bother him if it was about anyone but you, if it was Steph or Bart or Cassie, it wouldn’t have mattered. But it is you, the first friend he’s had that's entirely his own–you’re his best friend in the entire world, the person he loves the most, and he doesn’t need anyone, especially not Jason Todd, telling him how he should act with you.

“Keep your advice to yourself, Red Hood,” Tim barks out to his brother, yet there's a piece of him that's thinking about what he said, a voice in the back of his head that tells him maybe he should listen.

⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄

When Tim calls you to tell you not to come to family dinner, you can’t help but be confused and a little hurt. Sure, he said he’d just come over to yours instead, but the thought that someone was upset with you, or worse that Tim used his brilliant brain to suss out your crush before you could tell him, and now he’d never let you back around his brothers again, whittled its way into your heart and wouldn’t let go.

You never wanted to do anything that would hurt Tim, he’s the person who you trust most in the world, the only person you could say confidently that you would kill or be killed for. You love him, infallibly and wholly, and thinking that he might be hurt by something you’ve done, even as innocent as a couple moonlit conversations with his brother, consumes you into a hellmouth of anxiety.

He arrives at seven, the time he said he’d pick you up for family night, but instead of meeting you at your door, he barrels in. There’s a wild look in his eyes, a look you’ve only seen once– when your Philosophy 204 professor fell over and began to aspirate through a seizure–it’s painful and worried, and you wonder what's making him so upset now. However, when you ask, all he does is shake his head, almost like he’s trying to shake out the worries, pound them out like water in your ears. He looks beyond you, into your kitchen and his sighs become heavier and more sporadic, did he run here?

“I’m trying to figure something out,” He tells you, his voice kinder than his body language made it seem like it would be, yet you’re not surprised–in the five years of being his friend, he’s never once raised his voice at you.

“Okay, what's up?” You ask, anxious.

“Are you and Jason in love? Are you having some sort of gross affair?”

“What?!” You exclaim, sure you have a crush on Jason, and yes you think it would be quite easy to fall in love with him, but come on… Two conversations and childhood crush don’t suddenly turn into an affair.

“Don’t “what” me, Chicken! I have Jason telling me to treat you like a grown up and now I walk in here and his jacket is hanging from my chair… MY CHAIR!” He says, shocking a laugh out of you, “The chair I sit in, god what has life come to?”

“Timmy, we’re not having an affair, he just walked me home after bringing me something at work.” You approach him like a snake tamer, slow and kind in your steps–the same steps you saw the zoo keeper take the last time you and Tim brought Damian to Gotham Zoo.

“But you like him?” He asks, suspicious and guarded. You can’t tell what’s happening in his head, can’t seem to read his mind like you usually can, so instead you let your hands fall onto his shoulders–fingers splaying out to run through the hair on his neck.

“Yes,” You say, quiet as a mouse. “Is that okay?”

Tim lets his head fall into your tummy, blowing out a big gasp of air into your shirt, which makes you laugh and push him away.

“Of course it’s okay, Chicken… I just want you to be happy.” He sighs, “I just don’t really know if you will be happy with him… my brother he’s,” He hesitates, thinks about how he should say this without ruining anything, before he continues: “Jay’s complicated, what happened fucked him up… really bad. And I love you, more than him, more than anyone–you’re my girl. I don’t want you to feel trapped in a bad situation, and feel like you can’t come to me cause he’s my brother… I’ll always be on your side.”

You smile and let out what feels like all the air in your lungs. How you love your stupid, silly, best friend, as if Jason would ever make you feel trapped and horrible when all he ever wants to do is be free?

“You don’t have to worry about me, Timmy, I’m a big girl, I can take care of myself.” The nickname makes him smile, brings him back to college when all you guys would do was watch Chicken Little and drink bottled sweet tea, when you’d call him Timmy and beg him to let you prank call his dad. Yet, the sentiment makes him sad, how are you a big girl if you’re both still just kids? He doesn’t feel that grown up yet.

“That’s what he said you know,” He replies. “Just, why didn’t you tell me?” He’s watching you, looking at you in that way that makes you spill all your secrets, so you tell him,

“I didn’t want to upset anyone, and I don’t know if he even likes me back, so..”

“Are you crazy?! Of course he likes you, my brother hates literally every single person he interacts with other than Alfred, yet he’s coming to your work to surprise you? Come on.” He’s laughing though it sounds a little pained. It does little to comfort your swirling thoughts. You’re so happy Tim’s not angry, so happy that he’s not throwing you onto the curb like you expected, but he still seems so sad.

You wish you could swaddle him up and make everything okay, promise that you’d never stop being friends, make sure he knows that you’re not going away–that all of this is a little dramatic for a little crush.

“Are you okay, Timmy? With the chance that something might happen between me and Jason?”

“Yeah, Chickadee, just…” he sighs, “Don’t forget what I said, okay? About him being complicated.” You nod, but before you can say anything, he speaks up again. “And, Chicken? Remember our pact about getting married for taxes… it’s you and me spending our afterlives together, not you and Jason.”

⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄

You wake the next morning a bundle of limbs and sleepy energy, Tim is barely conscious next to you and the apartment smells faintly of cheetos and ramen; you’d spent the night watching Avatar: The Last Airbender and reminiscing about the good old days. You told him about everything that's happened with Jason, starting from that first sight of his missing poster and ending with the bouquet of books. He was obviously a little grossed out to be talking about his brother in this way, but it felt good to see you so giggly and happy.

He’d felt bad for making you skip out on family night, a feeling of guilt that shook in his bones as his father and eldest brother texted him about skivving out on family bonding. But, he wouldn’t go back to change it, he was so afraid he was going to lose you, that you’d get tired of him and make friends with other people, that having this night with you was well worth all the lectures he was going to have to put up with.

He’s watching you now, anxious and blushing, and he can’t help but feel in awe of you–his pretty best friend, really crushing on someone for the first time. Some part of him is glad that person is Jason, at least then he won’t feel too bad about breaking his nose if he starts any shit with you.

“Everythings gonna be okay,” He says, using your first name in a rare scene of seriousness.

“Yeah, I know.” You tell him. “I just, don’t wanna ruin anything.”

“You know, he’s working today… might wanna bring him some flowers.”

⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄

The library is alive, warm and inviting like a lover’s embrace. It smells like parchment and dust and clorox wipes, a combination that instantly brings you back to school–elementary crushes and schoolyard gossip.

There’s not very many people here, too early on a school day for anyone to really be finding solace between the aisles, but you see him. Jason sits behind the front desk, wiry glasses settled on his nose and a book in his lap. He hasn’t noticed you yet, too absorbed in his work to really be paying attention. For a minute, you just stand and admire him–this mysterious creature who walked into your life and never left. All these feelings are brand new and ancient… romantic and friendly, respect and admiration. It would all be so easy, with him–to lose yourself in love and friendship–you want it so badly.

You can see it so vividly, waking up with him and spending nights intertwined, reading together and researching maniacally. Falling for him is easy, loving him will be hard you know, but seeing him now: pretty and warm in the afternoon light makes the decision rather easy.

“I’d like to return some books,” you say once you’ve reached him, startling him out of his reverie.

He can’t believe it’s you, beautiful and bright–like a protagonist out of an Austen novel. He thought he’d never be allowed near you again, thought he ruined it all by bringing you up to Tim, but here you were–lovely like the morning. You’re carrying books, flowers, and your smile is starlight.

“Well, right this way, Ma’am.” He tells you, once he finds his voice. “I didn’t realize you could replant flowers after you’ve picked them.” He’s teasing you, but really he’s not sure why you’ve brought the books back–is it a way to let him down? Or are you just returning the favor?

He leads you into the back, unprofessional sure, but he needs to be alone with you. You’re so anxious, he can tell… he needs to be able to reach out and feel you.

“I just felt like you deserved flowers too, Jay.” You tell him, sweet and lovely like always.

“Hmm, well I refuse them… they’re all yours, I already replaced them.” His eyes are mischievous again, burning with joy as they stare into yours. You’re reminded of that night on the stairs, when he made you drink water and burned you alive.

“I talked to Tim,” You tell him, watching as his smile drops.

“Let me guess, he told you I’m bad news and doesn’t want you around me, right?” He asks, rough with the hurt of past bruises.

“Actually, he told me you’re bad news but he’s trusting me to be able to handle it.” Jason looks surprised, his summer green eyes wide with shock. He guessed he never really thought Tim would be okay with it…

He remembers seeing you for the first time: soft and gorgeous in the lowlight of the manor, he was sitting with Damian and remembers how the breath shot out of his lungs at the sight of you. Dami’s been teasing him about it for years now, bringing you up to piss Tim off and making plans for you to bring him to the planetarium on days when Jason said he’d pick him up–like a goddam parenttrap. He thinks back to that night on the stairs a few weeks ago, you looked so pretty spinning around with your friends, like Thumbelina. When he found you on the stairs he was panicked: worried about you and worried about Tim who never left your side, but you were still just so pretty.

He can’t believe you here now, bringing him flowers and his brother’s approval. He’s waited for this for so long, for the okay from the one person dearest to you, the one person who could make Jason actually care about listening to him.

“He really said that?” Jason asks you, hesitant and careful like he’s worried you’re playing a joke on him.

“He really said that,” You reply, laughing when Jason pulls you into a hug. He holds you for a few minutes, feels the air in your lungs press into his belly as you breathe in and out, it feels so good to have you here, to know that he’s not making anything worse by wanting you.

“So that means you’ll go out with me then, fairy girl?” he asks you, his rough fingers moving up to grasp your chin, tilting it up so you’re looking into his eyes. He waits for you to nod, then waits for the word, yes, to emerge from your pretty lips, before lowering down to kiss your forehead. He feels you sigh, feels your hands shake from their place on his arms, his kisses move down down down until they meet the corner of your lips. You're smiling slightly, like you’re having a happy dream, and when he kisses you for real that smile becomes a big grin.

It’s all teeth and laughter and the awkwardness of a first kiss, but Jason holds you up and lets you gasp into his mouth and swallows your sighs. He licks into your mouth and clashes his teeth against yours and calls you his fairy, his magic girl come to take him back to Neverland. He holds you tighter and tighter, and feels you shake under his affection, how lovely it is, how badly he wants to make your bones rattle.

“I’ll bring you more flowers on our date, sugar.” He tells you, kissing the underside of your jaw, before pulling away. He’s sad he has to let you go, frustrated that he has to stay at work while you get to go and hang out with Tim and Damian at the Museum all day, but the kiss you press into his hand–innocent and earnest–makes it worth it.

He leads you out of the back room and into the well-lit main entrance, pausing only to grab his book from the front desk. “By the way, I found this while I was stacking shelves, I thought it might be useful for your project.”

In his hands is a book titled Gotham City’s Founding Buildings, and on the cover, miraculously an illustration of Cherry Hill.

It’s too easy to fall in love with him, you think again, smiling as you pull him into another kiss.

#sobs and throws up #fic rec #jason todd

857 notes · View notes