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padsmoony04 · 2 days ago

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You having front seat privileges when in Jason’s car or something.

Like maybe you’re going somewhere right, and you use a car for whatever reason blah blah blah and roy joins youse for whatever reason (maybe you’re going out for food or to a store or whatever).

And your first reaction to going to the car is something along the lines of,

“Oh, I’ll let you both go in front so you can talk together.” as like you’re opening the back door for yourself.

And Jason just stands there so baffled, and honestly looking genuinely offended and even hurt that you would even EVER suggest that. (And that you opened the door for yourself cause like what are you doing?? That’s his job???)

He’s acting immediately. You don’t even have time to actually sit down in the backseat, he’s picking you up, leaving the back door open for Roy.

“Get in the back, Harper.”

“Yessir.” You just know Roy’s got a shit eating grin on his face cause he finds it hilarious to see Jason riled up like this, and for something so small too.

The car door shuts with Roy inside, while Jason is still outside with you still lifted up in his arms. He’s looking up at you, still looking offended when he speaks.

“Why would you even say that? You sit beside me. Always, I don’t care who’s with us, you always sit beside me.” He has this big dramatic pout on his face, acting like your suggestion just proved you didn’t love him.

You’re giggling your ass off in his arms, feet still off the ground. “Jay, lovie, it’s just so you can talk together. We never drive with him and he’s your best friend, least I can do is let him sit next to you so you can talk.”

“Noooo, stoooppp, you’re breaking my heart, stop.” Queue intensified pout and frown on his face, he’s whining like a kid who doesn’t want to go to sleep. “You sit next to me so I can hold your hand and touch you and be next to you when I’m driving. I can’t do that when you’re in the backseat.”

“Okay, okay,” you laughing again, pressing a kiss to his dramatic pout. “I’ll sit next to you.” His face instantly lights up, big smile on his face as if a frown had never been there to begin with.

He’s setting you down now, hand on the front door handle before turning to you again.

“also if you EVER open your own door around me again there will be severe consequences,” He says with the most serious voice and look on his face, before placing the sweetest kiss ever on the tip of your nose, and opening the door for you.

You’re kind of stood there baffled, before you let out a small laugh again and sit down in the passenger seat.

Jason’s got his hand on your thigh with yours above it while he’s driving, Roy’s sat in the middle in the back and leaning on yours and Jason’s seat to talk to you both, and everyone’s happy.

Yeah, idk, something like that

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padsmoony04 · 2 days ago

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THE WAY I SEE YOU

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

divider by: cafekitsune & omi-resources word count: 2k synopsis: You see the beauty in Jason that he can’t see in himself—and you’d spend a lifetime showing him. a/n: @robinvomit thank you for requesting this! I loved writing this one way too much!

You were curled up on the couch beside Jason, the two of you half-buried in the worn cushions, a blanket draped lazily across your intertwined legs. The TV was still on, but whatever it was playing had long since faded into background noise, little more than a soft flicker casting muted light across the room—and across Jason’s profile.

He looked relaxed—actually relaxed. Hoodie unzipped with the sleeves shoved up to his elbows, hair still damp and a little tousled from the shower, like he’d run a towel through it and then given up halfway. His head was tilted back against the cushion, lips parted slightly as he breathed, broad chest rising and falling in a slow rhythm. He was sprawled effortlessly on the couch, one leg kicked out, the other bent as he relaxed. There was a faint bruise forming just above his collarbone from patrol, a smear of purple against his skin, but he hadn’t said a word about it. He never did.

Your gaze dipped from his collarbone to the muscles on display, he wasn’t wearing a shirt underneath his hoodie giving you an unabashed view of himself and your gaze traced the dips of his muscles to the roughened skin of his scars.

“You’re staring,” he muttered, eyes still closed.

A smile tugged at your lips, and you let out a soft giggle. “You really can’t blame me,” you murmured, leaning a little closer. “You’re just so damn pretty to look at.”

Jason snorted. He always did when you said things like that—like he didn’t believe a single word of it. Like it was some sweet lie you told to comfort him, even though you never once said it out of pity. Dick was the one everyone looked at twice, the golden boy with the easy smile and the acrobat’s grace. He was just the roughened street rat, Bruce Wayne took pity on.

But you meant it. Every syllable.

Jason was handsome in a way that didn’t feel real. The kind of handsome that knocked the air right out of your lungs if you looked too long. His beauty wasn't manicured and curated like most men nowadays, it was rougher, darker, edged with something untamed. Everything about him was raw and entirely himself.

And maybe that was what undid you the most. He didn’t try to be anything.

Jason didn’t see it—not the way you did. In the mirror, he only saw the damage. The broken boy, the second Robin, the pit-born ghost. He noticed the scars first. The ones that littered his chest, curved down his ribs, disappeared beneath old wounds and half-faded stitches. He saw the mistakes etched into his skin. The reminders of everything he couldn’t outrun.

He hated the marks left behind on his skin but when you looked at him… you didn’t see damage.

Those scars told you the story of his life. You saw the man who fought his way back from death. The man who chose to protect a city that had turned its back on him. The man who loved fiercely, fully, even when he thought he didn’t deserve to. You saw strength. Loyalty. Fire.

You saw him.

And you wished—more than anything—that he could see himself the way you did and realize just how bad you had it for him.

You sighed, shifting slightly against him. “I’m serious, Jay. It’s criminal how good you look.”

That finally earned you a smirk. One eye cracked open, hazy and amused. “Well… I am a criminal.”

You rolled your eyes and gave his chest a light smack. “Ex-criminal,” you corrected, tone laced with exasperated affectionate.

Before you could pull your hand back, he caught it with ease. His fingers curled around yours, firm but gentle, and then—without a word—he lifted it to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to the back of your hand.

Your breath caught.

It was simple. Even unassuming. A little old-fashioned, maybe. But it was so utterly him. The side not many people got to see. The part he kept tucked away beneath layers of armour and deflection.

Your thumb brushed lazily over his knuckles, and he let out a quiet sigh, eyes fluttering shut again as he sank further into the couch. His body relaxed, but your attention had shifted entirely to his hand—so large and warm in yours, the skin rough from years of battle and training, every ridge and scar telling a story.

He didn’t move when you turned his hand over, didn’t even question it. One eye cracked open, curiosity flickering in the soft green as your fingers traced the callouses on his palm. Your touch was featherlight and exploring as if trying to commit every inch of him to memory.

Your thumb found the faint scar along his lifeline and paused there. It was barely more than a knick, just a thin pale line interrupting the path across his palm—but it stopped you cold. A break in what should have been whole. You knew the meaning of that line, the stories people told about fate written in the hands.

Your heart clenched.

Jason didn’t say anything, didn’t interrupt the silence hanging between you. But you could feel his eyes on you, watching the way your expression shifted, how your lips parted just slightly as if to speak but nothing came out. He saw it all, the weight of your thoughts sinking just beneath the surface.

Before he could open his mouth, before he could brush it off or offer that half-hearted reassurance he always defaulted to, you moved. Without a word, you flattened your palm against his and spread your fingers wide, lining yours up with his

His hand completely engulfed yours—rougher, broader, with fingers nearly twice the length of yours. The contrast made your chest ache, fondness curling through you like heat. You wiggled your pinky beside his, then looked up at him with a smile.

“I like how much bigger you are,” you murmured, eyes warm with affection.

Jason let out a soft snort, but his fingers curled over yours as if to emphasize the difference. Then, with one fluid motion, he shifted his hand to interlock your fingers and gave a gentle tug.

You didn’t resist.

You let the blanket fall to the side as your legs swung over his lap, letting yourself be pulled closer and settling atop him easily like you belonged—and you did. One hand still locked in his, you pinned it to his side with a playful grin, your body now fully straddling his.

Jason’s free hand slid to your waist, fingers splaying possessively along your curves. He arched a brow, eyes flicking to your mouth in a silent demand.

You leaned in, obliging him—but just as his lips parted in anticipation, you veered up and planted a quick kiss right on the tip of his nose.

He blinked.

“What was that?” he grumbled, expression twisting into a mock-scowl.

You pulled back, beaming. “A kiss.”

He huffed, clearly unimpressed. “That was not a kiss. You missed!”

“Oh really?” you teased, tilting your head, your voice dripping with mischief. “Then where did you want it?”

You hadn’t even finished the sentence before his free hand moved curling around the back of your neck and tugging you down with gentle force. You barely had time to gasp before his mouth was on yours, stealing the breath right from your lungs.

You melted instantly.

There was no battle as you surrendered to his control. Letting him kiss you deeply and so thoroughly your head spun. Your free hand tangled in his hair, fingers threading through the damp strands, tugging at them gently. His grip on your hand tightened, fingers still interlaced, his thumb dragging slow, grounding strokes over your skin.

When he finally pulled away, your chest rose and fell in rapid rhythm, your heart pounding against your ribs. You stared down at him, dazed and breathless, lips tingling.

Jason looked smug as ever, mouth curled into a self-satisfied smirk. “Now that was a proper kiss,” he said, voice low and rough with pride.

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t hide your smile—not when your whole body still hummed from the feel of him.

Your eyes drifted upward, landing on the mess of dark hair now tousled into complete disarray. A giggle bubbled from your lips before you could stop it, soft and full of affection.

“Look at your hair,” you laughed, reaching up to thread your fingers through it. Grinning, you gave it a playful ruffle. The already untamed mess only grew worse, hair now sticking out in even more directions.

Jason huffed, not bothering to stop you, but the corner of his mouth twitched—amused despite himself.

Before you could say another word, he swiftly moved.One strong arm slipped around your waist, and in a single, fluid motion, he rolled you onto your back. Your spine sank into the soft couch cushions with a gentle thump, your breath catching as the world tilted around you. Jason hovered above, his frame casting a familiar shadow over yours, the warmth of his body settling close.

Despite the shift, your hands never parted. Fingers still interlaced, still holding tight—as if letting go was never an option.

You gazed up at him, breath caught somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. Gone was the darkness that so often crept along the edges of his expression, and in its place was something you rarely got to see so clearly.

Love.

Raw, unfiltered, his gaze practically shone with it.

And suddenly, you couldn’t help but wonder.

What if things had been different? What if your relationship hadn’t played out the way that it did? If the horrors you both went through hadn’t happened…would you two have still met?

“Do you ever think about…” you began, your voice barely above a whisper, “if things had gone differently?”

He stilled above you, eyes searching your face. His brow furrowed as he processed the question.

“Yeah,” he admitted after a beat. “More than I should.”

You nodded, your thumb brushing gently over the back of his hand. “I think about it too sometimes,” you murmured. “Like if I’d met you earlier. Before all of this.”

He let out a low hum, the sound deep in his throat—almost like a purr. “Would you have liked me then?” he asked, his tone casual, but there was a trace of uncertainty beneath it.

A grin curved your lips. “I think you would’ve annoyed me.”

Jason chuckled, a breath of laughter that warmed the space between you. “I would’ve,” he admitted, shaking his head. “I was a little shit.”

“You still are,” you quipped, eyes gleaming with amusement.

That earned you a playful eye roll and a nudge of his knee between yours, his body shifting just enough to press closer.

His voice, when he spoke again, came quieter. More vulnerable.

“I don’t regret meeting you when I did,” he said, eyes steady on yours. “Even with everything. You’re… the one good thing I’ve been sure of in a long time.”

You reached up, fingers brushing softly through the hair at his temple before trailing back through the messy dark strands. “Well, it’s a good thing I have no plans on going anywhere,” you whispered, your voice full of quiet certainty.

Jason’s eyes fluttered shut at your touch, lashes fanning against his cheeks. “Good,” he murmured. “’Cause I sleep better with you here.”

He shifted then, moving with the ease of someone who trusted completely, and laid his head on your chest. Despite the weight of him pressing down on you—warm, solid—you didn’t mind. In fact, you welcomed it. His presence, his closeness, the steady rhythm of his breath syncing with yours.

You wrapped your arms around him, holding him there, fingers still threaded with his, while your other hand kept the steady motion of running through his hair.

Whatever could have been, whatever paths you might have taken in another life, it didn’t matter now. What mattered was this—him. You. The fact that you both did end up finding each other.

Right here, right now, you were exactly where you were meant to be.

In each other’s arms.

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