#deathstroke one shot | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shyinkbunny · 11 months

Text

Hair Pets: Super Effective

“Ok, I have eyes on him. Give it 10, then proceed as plan- Wait…is that,”

“Hood, what is it?”

“…uck! It’s-”

The ground shook – a thundering eruption cracked in his ear – almost muffling the pained scream over the coms.

“Hood!”

Stuck watching from the rooftop of another as the warehouse crumbled in on itself.

The silence that followed for minutes as-

Slade rubbed aggressively at his eye, efforts futile in banishing the reminiscing his wondering brain kept strolling back too. He pulled his attention back to the contract. One he found himself increasingly and uncommonly stressed about.

He and Jason were working this one together, and on a notably rare occasions one of his source's intel was incorrect.

Unfortunately, that fuck-up resulted in an unanticipated explosion and collapsing building with Jason’s leg getting a rain of shrapnel, a broken fibula, a river of bruises to his side, and probable concussion with how hard his head cracked against the cement floor. Fortunately, he had his helmet or Slade doubted highly he’d be walking away with a mild case of the dizzies.

If he would have walked away at all.

Slade��s fingernails dug into his eyebrows and the skin directly below it. The pressure in his head building.

Plus, it was a very large setback in the contract’s time frame. The setback is what had him so on edge right now, obviously.

He had to locate his target again, find a new reliable source, and reevaluate the plan’s whole execution now that he was one man short. All without the assistance of Red Hood. Two years ago this would have been no fucking issue but after two years of dating, and three of working together so closely, Slade started to depend on Red Hood as his second more than he even realized. The kid’s resources, smarts, and vast background experiences gave him different ways of looking at problems even Slade fell short of. Turns out when you mix street smarts, bat teachings, hero training, and Al Ghul brainwashing you get an interesting ass mix. One helpful with planning and even more so in the direct heat of the field.

That being said, he was still getting Red Hood’s “perspective” on the case as short of sedating him for the next 96 hours, Jason wasn’t stepping completely back from the contract nor from worming his way into the details of the case. After threats of sedation Jason finally, begrudgingly, relented and camped out on the couch to get some rest.

Still, it leaves the issue that Slade was a body and two skilled hands shorter than he anticipated being. It’s fine. No issue. He’s Deathstroke, not just some mercenary, but the mercenary who always completed his contracts. All’s well and his head is screwed on just fine, thank you very much Wintergreen.

He let out another breath, fingers now pinching the bridge between his eyes. Starting to go a little over 76 hours with no sleep, he was stretching his three-day limit thin, but still aware he was too wired to actually accomplish any rest even if he tried.

A low, “hey,” drifted his way from the couch.

“Hm,” he answered back without looking from the blueprints he had in hand.

“Slade, come over ‘ere”

“I’m busy,” Slade gruffed back, the lack of sleep making his voice a tinge more gravelly. His brows furrowed when he shuffled through the piles of paper, not finding the damn shipping list times. His finger burrowed into his left temple like he was trying to physically push the steady aching thrum away. The dull electrical buzz from the dining room’s shitty hanging lamp seemed to be growing louder with every damn minute.

“…Slade”

And what the hell was Billy doing? He said he would contact Lenardo. He owed Deathstroke one and if he was giving Billy any shit collecting-

“Slade”

“Enough,” he slammed the papers he had in hand down, the table’s wood creaking under the sudden angry pressure. “I don’t have time to fuck around,” he spit out, turning his head just enough to snarl at the others direction, voice growing louder with every word. “If someone didn’t run recklessly ahead than I wouldn’t be pulling some half-ass solution from the thin fucking air to patch up this monumental fuck-up.”

His voice carried and filled the safe house dining room and echoed down the halls; the yell sounded towering in the small apartment. But the silence afterwards seemed even heavier, pressing into every nook and cranny in an almost suffocating way. The tension felt like a physical weight on Slade’s stomach.

Fuck. That was….he didn’t mean….

Slade let out a breath that felt bone deep while leaning back into the creaking wooden chair. He pried open his clenching fist around the now crinkled and torn papers and pushed his forehead in his other hand propped up on the armrest. He squeezed his eyes, hidden behind his hand, shut so tightly he started to see white spots.

Shit. His head wasn’t on right.

“Slade,” the voice was soft but stern, feeling weighty in the damning silence of the room.

Slade stopped being a coward and finally turned to face the other man patched up and camping out on the couch. One who’s been watching Slade run circles on the damn job for the last five hours.

Jason’s head was leaning back against the couch’s headrest, expression and body looking deceptively relaxed, but those ocean eyes pinned him. “Come here,” his voice was low and smooth, but solid. Commanding, but grounding.

Slade didn’t fight the request this time, his burning bitter words still scattered like ash on his tongue. He raised from the kitchen chair to make his way to the other man. He owes him that much at least for his piss poor temper right now.

The kids always made extra effort to be attentive on any of Slade’s contracts to prevent any careless shit exactly like this from happening. The need for Hood to check-in and supervise every move he made was banished long ago with Slade’s growing confidence in his ability and his judgement. Jason was competent and careful, and unlike the bats who like to micromanage absolutely everyone, Slade trusted his decisions. And he’s aware that Jason only went ahead to scope the warehouse’s shipment because he knew the place was clear. Was supposed to be clear. According to Slade’s debrief.

A few of Slade’s knuckles cracked under the strain of his curled fist.

They were supposed to go cave diving after this. Find a nice natural hot spring he could defile the younger man in. His gaze ran over the bulky leg cast. But with his damn injuries now, he frowned. That same weight resting heavier on his stomach.

“Hey.” A tug on his hand drew his eyes away from the cast to Jason’s softer gaze. “Come sit down with me.” He motioned to a spot next to him with his head.

“Kid, I can’t. I’m on a time crunch,” Slade’s voice miles softer than before. A whisper in comparison.

“You’ve been running yourself ragged and still haven’t made any progress. You’ll feel better if you get some rest.”

Slade shook his head. It would be pointless, he’s still too wired. He felt like he was gonna crawl out of his damn skin. No way would his mind settle enough to sleep.

“I’m too wired.”

“Just a bit,” Jason’s voice lulled and hand tugged down lightly on Slade’s.

“Jason,” Slade breathed out, tired.

The other man in response tried to sit up but winced from the wound on his side. Slade was propped on the edge of the couch by his side in an instant. He lifted the shirt Jason pilfered from his duffle bag and inspected the bandages for any pulled stitches. “What hurts?” he demanded. Maybe he did break or crack a rib. They said it should have only been some deep bruising, but-

“My poor feelings, asshole. Now lay down with me.”

Slade looked back up at Jason to see a smirk and self-satisfied look and not an ounce of pain. Little shit. Slade glared. He didn’t find feigning pain to be fucking amusing. Especially since it was his contract, his fucking intel that– his jaw clenched.

Jason ignored Slade’s deepening scowl and aggravation to tug on his shoulders until the bigger man was laying with his back to the younger man’s chest and between his spread legs. Between Jason’s stubbornness, the steady weight on Slade’s stomach, and the memory of Jason screaming out in pain that was playing in his head like some fucked-up background music, Slade complied a lot easier than he would any other time. Or with any other person.

But as easy as he had relented to laying back, he was still on the figurative fence about staying; his body still tense, playing at the idea of getting up and back to the damn contract.

Yet with every passing moment enclosed in Jason’s arms, warm and solid, and the steady rise and fall of his chest against Slade’s back, and those nimble fingers of his running through Slade’s hair, scratching lightly at his scalp, his body started to unfurl bit by bit. Not realizing he was subconsciously matching his breath to Jason’s until the younger man breathed in another slow, deep, steadying breath and Slade followed, then let it out at the same rate.

After about a dozen breaths like that and the continuous fingers running through his strands in a lazy, relaxing manner, he finally grumbled out a, “What are you watching?”

“Lord of the Rings.”

Slade’s eyebrows furrowed slightly. He thought Jay was bingeing that show with the obnoxiously nasally nanny with the horrible laugh. He didn’t get Jason’s amusement from the show except it functioning as a brain numbing, to the point of mind melting, way to pass the time. (Although, he did see the amusement he got from the sharp-witted butler). Still, this worked better for him. He’d much rather let his brain vegetate to the background noise of the clanking metal of swords and overdramatic war cries of some dwarf man.

Slade let his eyes fall shut to the lulling feeling of soft touches and comforting scratches carting through his bangs and hair. A thumb brushing featherlight over his forehead and massaging at his temple just-so that his throbbing headache stilled for a moment.

He would indulge the kid just a bit longer, then he’ll get back to work. Just a bit. He let his mind haze and drift, and thought he felt something cover lightly over his body and tuck around his sides but didn’t bother to pay it any mind.

Slade woke to a low voice in his ear and small shake. “Slade, hey”. He blinked a few times. It was much darker than it was before. Where the previously high sun was coloring the world in golden hues, now it cast crawling shadows on everything as it sunk nearly below horizon. A slight tug to his ends tried to draw his attention again, “hey, that sounds like Wintergreen’s ringtone.”

Slade blinked twice more, then wrenched himself out of the cocoon of warmth and comfort Jason seemingly nested him in. Checking the phone, it was indeed Billy’s contact name blinking on the white screen. Slade slid the icon to the side accepting the call and seeing what intel the older man was able to find for him.

After 12 or so minutes later, and a much clearer picture of where his target Houdinied his ass to and what his new plans entailed, their conversation was wrapping up. “Hmm. Good. But Billy?” Slade bit out before the call ended.

“Yes?”

“My previous source, the one that was covering this case? Find me his location.” The unspoken intent clear through the hard words.

“Of course,” Bill said only after a second of silence, then the line cut.

That little shit almost got Jason killed with his information. Yeah. He’ll be paying him a visit.

He checked the time. About four, going on five, hours past what it was, hours of him actually achieving some sleep. He assumed it would have been more if Jason didn’t wake him for the call. Just from those few hours, he already felt loads better; clearer headed and less like he was ready to vibrate out of his skin.

Slade looked back at the other man who from the looks of it rearranged himself slightly more spread out, additional space now that he wasn’t sharing the couch with Slade’s bulk, which now that he looked he was kind of amazed that the smaller couch fit the both of them. Jason must have been squished to some extent. He frowned at the thought. If he made any of his wounds worse so Slade could have a cat nap, Slade’s going to be aggravated. This safe house unfortunately wasn’t one of their better ones, but it did in the pinch. He’ll make sure the next one is more comfortable.

Not being able to see Jay’s face, just the back of his head, but the slight tilt of its direction towards Slade’s showed he was ease-dropping in on the conversation. No surprise. Part nosy-bat, part inquisitive-brat.

As he started to make his way back to the couch, Jason’s head tilted backwards at his approach till his head almost hung off the armrest completely; an act that always compelled Slade with the desire to lean down and plant a kiss square on those teasing lips. A fact he’s almost positive the kid knew and possibly abused. Didn’t matter much though. If these last few hours alone didn’t expose Jason’s remarkable ability to read Slade, he’s not sure what would. It’s a good thing he didn’t plan on letting the brat go anytime soon, if ever, or the arresting amount of knowledge he has on Slade’s character would be fucking alarming.

But now? Now there was a strange sort of peace, of contentment, of ease, at the awareness he held. The brat made him feel a billion things. Amusement, confusion, frustration, amazement, pride, unease, disappointment, anticipation. A lust for his mind, body, and attention, and a carnal hunger so fervent he thought it would burn through his veins at times. A billion different things Slade could have seen the passionate, lively, fierce man stir in him.

But grounded and soothed would have never been near the list. Because when the hell has anyone been able to accomplish that with Slade? Well, besides Billy. Even with Addy’s attempts at comfort, it felt administrative at times.

Yet it never felt like being handled or manipulated by Jason. Like Slade was a variable one needed to manage. The anarchic, dangerous super soldier that needed to be contained…pacified…appeased.

No, in those rare moments of chaos and overwhelming consciousness, when his mind wouldn’t stop running over what had happened and what could happen. Running over every aspect and possible outcome, when it relived every sensation of each moment, even ones he’d rather gouge out of his head then remember, it was Jason that gave him a foundation to be grounded to. Like a single touch would make the world stop spinning for five fucking seconds.

“Wintergreen give any good new intel?” Jason’s arm was slung behind his head, gripping the armrest to give himself more leverage to hold his head back, his other hand fiddling with the tv remote.

Slade hummed a confirmation when he reached him. Leaning down to press a deeply craved kiss to those easily accessible lips. He lifted slightly; arms braced on both sides of Jason’s head to bracket his brat between them. Jason’s gaze was steady and soft - happy - but a seriousness edged into them.

“Hey,” his voice almost a whisper, but held the sureness as if he had yelled them. “I got hurt. It sucked, but it happens. We patch up, we get pissed, and then we finish what we started.” His gaze pinning once again. “So, you’re going to go out there, you’re gonna finish the job – remind them exactly why Deathstroke’s reputation is what it is – then you’re gonna come back and make it up to me.” His small smirk and voice held the sureness as if he’d seen the future and already watched it happen.

Slade wasn’t fooled. He knew the kid didn’t really hold him responsible for his injury, like he said, shit happens. But it gave Slade one more thing he had control of. Another way to get him out of his head and past and focused on the next step. Jason may bitch about Slade’s penchant for control, but these little indulgences certainly never do anything to dissuade his habits.

Slade let out a breathy chuckle and leaned down to rumble in his ear, “Then I advise you to get some sleep, Brat.” His tone low, deep, and spoke of lots of heady intentions.

He grinned at the step up in Jay’s heartbeat and the slight rise of color that tinted his cheeks. Slade’s lips brushing over the freckled and blushed skin.

“Promises, promises. Go to work, slacker,” Jason grunted playfully and nudged his head at Slade’s. He lifted his head back up, pulling his attention and eyes back to the show with the inappropriately dressed nanny and her employer bickering at each other. He’s so weird.

Slade laid one final firm kiss to the side of his cheek, making sure to drag his beard rough and forcefully across; just the way he hates.

“Ack! Slade, get off you ass,” he protested and squirmed away from the angry scratchy facial hair.

The mercenary strolled away with a smirk, smile pulling wider at the mumbled, “ornery asshole,” he heard whispered behind him, but he knew was said with a smile.

Slade cracked his neck and sat back down at the kitchen table. He’ll look into this new information Billy gave him, then in about an hour or so order them some food. The oddity he calls his partner always gets strange cravings for Chinese food when he’s benched and the egg rolls from the place down the street are pretty good. Slade glanced at the clock. Yeah, he’s got more than enough time. He’ll be fine. Red Hood may be out of commission on the field, but where it counts, Jason still gots him covered.

[Author's Note: Slade is all talk. He makes Jason heal a lot more before they do anything spicy. It’s all cuddles and getting spoiled. Question is who is being spoiled – Jason or Slade? (Hint: Jason only gets spoiled when he lets you spoil him.)]

#sladejay #jason todd #slade wilson #jason/slade #redstroke #writing #ao3 works #Jason uses Pet Hair! It's super effective!! Slade is now asleep.#fluff #batman #red hood #deathstroke #one shot

41 notes · View notes

robocops-a-christ-allegory · 1 year

Text

was thinking about making a poll for funniest vigilante but I think Greg would win again because I dont know if people know about Dorian constantly just laying prone on the floor and talking when he gets his ass beat or how Patricia left behind her son to go do Vigilante things and immediately got dumped by Deathstroke

#Dorian's still the funniest to me hes so stupid #that bit of him shooting the guy in the leg thinking Dick will appreciate it and then being all #'WHY IS DICK CHASING AFTER ME I JUST SHOT THE GUY IN THE LEG!' lives in my head.#Ok Deathstroke shooting Pat in the head and her just immediately getting up is also a good one.

2 notes · View notes

deadpoolsmom · 10 months

Text

anime twunk slade in my adventures with superman is so funny to me and I think people who definitely do not read or think about deathstroke getting mad at it made me like it more lmao cause it made me realize a very silly detail

it’s a story about Clark starting out as Superman so everyone is younger than their comic counterparts. That means that this young, but still clearly Adult Man’s actual arch-nemesises are currently kindergarteners, still with their parents at the circus or a few years from turning green. Which. just very funny in general.

It also means, I realized, that he still has both eyes. This is Slade early in his mercenary career, seemingly post experimentation but pre eyeloss. Which is a very specific time period in his backstory that means he has a very funny trait for an edgy floppy-banged white-haired anime man:

He is currently married but (not by his choice) absolutely not going to stay that way.

it turns out about to be divorced is literally the funniest possible characteristic for a shonen villain to Me. I literally can’t stop calling him pre-divorce era Slade.

Oooo he’s edgy he’s dangerous he’s about to get shot in the face by his (absolutely justified) wife.

This man has at least one possibly two very young sons at home. He’s currently fighting Superman to avoid parenting. He is not going to get visitation rights and he Will be dodging child support payments.

Will they change it and make his eye related to Superman for narrative reasons, not covering his family stuff? I hope not but possibly. Until that happens though Schrödinger’s pathetic loser here having two eyes means his wife divorcing him is literally always impending.

#fr I can’t stop calling him pre-divorce era slade #my adventures with superman #maws #deathstroke #slade wilson #maws spoilers

9K notes · View notes

celaenaeiln · 8 months

Text

One of Dick's greatest strengths is his ability to manipulate every single person in existence.

Genuinely I think this makes him the smartest person in the room. Not only is he a brilliant detective, but the fact that he's able to outmaneuver and control virtually everyone including other geniuses and masterminds makes him the most terrifying. There's a reason why his enemies have give up using intelligence against him and simply resorting to brute force.

Now hold your horses before you bring your crowbars and let me explain.

Dick once said, "On an even playing field, I always win."

And it's true. But how do you even the field if your enemies are geniuses, detectives, or metas?

"Well, if you don't like how the table is it, turn over the table."

And that's exactly what Dick does.

Let's begin from his younger years. Dick is 19, newly out of Batman's wing and in no position to take on a skilled mercenary on by himself. But the mercenary isn't going to stop just because he says please. So.

DEATHSTROKE WAS CLEARLY NOT EXPECTING TO GET OUTPLAYED BY A 19 YEAR OLD.

"You're right Slade, he's not a fool so choose a dumber kidnapping victim next time."

Ofcourse this is the least of his abilities.

This cover is perfect because it shows how two of them are literally in a constant game of chess. And evidence of Dick's tactical expertise was never more obvious than the bombing of Bludhaven.

By all means Dick had won.

And he's right. Dick is incredibly intelligent, and he has to be given how he maneuvered the entirety of the world to save him city. Not just the heroes and villains, but everyone - the heroes, the villains, the government, the civilians, the organized crime - everyone. He ruled the freaking world at that moment.

@haroldhighballjordan actually made a post about this that explains this scene so well

But yeah Slade knew he lost so in his petty vengeance what he basically did was set the whole fucking chessboard on fire.

The perfection to which Dick had calculated and moved millions of people to force Slade into abandoning their game and leave him shrieking and seething in rage over his loss. Another reminder that this game only happened because Dick manipulated Rose away from her father, away from his control to a better life.

Spyral is one of my favorite comics because it shows just how good of a manipulator Dick Grayson is.

One of Dick's coldest traits is his ability to manipulate a situation to fit his needs.

In the beginning Dick wanted to calm the meta down and take him in but the second his opponent let out the slightest hint of weakness, look how fast he flips his words. This man is brilliant.

And his planning came to fruition as the meta wore himself out, allowing Dick to take control of the situation and the opponent with no harm to himself-a quick, two second exit. He can manipulate emotions, thoughts, and people to get what he wants like he's playing chess with a child.

But it's not just other people- he can completely change himself to become a whole new person. In the earlier chapters, Dick is learning how to shoot a gun for the agency.

Dick's a terrible shot. Not a single bullet lands in the center of the target-there's no way he's ever going to shoot well....or atleast that's what he wants you to think-

"Yeah, well, that's what spies do."

"We lie."

He's a puppet master and the final boss.

part 2

#dick grayson #nightwing #comic panels #manipulative dick grayson #part two coming soon #slade wilson #deathstroke #tiger #spyral #dc #batfamily

2K notes · View notes

impyssadobsessions · 10 months

Text

FINALLY FINISHED THIS! Scene from one-shot I did where Deathstroke kidnapped Danny and used him against Dick. (Au where Danny is Dick's son) Link is below on Ao3 Phoenix Down Universe: Two Birds One Stone Picture without text Below

#danny phantom #danny fenton #dp x dc #dpxdc #impyelam #my art #dcxdp #phoenix down au #phoenix down #deathstroke kidnaps danny #Danny is dick's son #Danny also breaks out of the control kek #fanfic

2K notes · View notes

autisticcassandracain · 9 months

Text

I’ve only read NTT Deathstroke so Do Not @ Me if I’m wrong, but I think the funniest part of Slade Wilson’s whole entire Deal isn’t the fact that he’s fistfighting actual teenagers and getting his ass kicked, or that he’s an epic divorce man whose wife shot his eye out; it’s that I’m pretty sure he’s not actually divorced. Like are you telling me he and Adeline calmed down long enough to sit down and sign the papers, divide the property, and present their case to the court? Absolutely not. These two are legally still married, they’re just divorced in every way that matters. And, crucially, Adeline took everything that Deathstroke didn’t have in that suitcase when he ran out of the house bleeding from his eye, because what’s he gonna do? Come back and go ‘hey, I know you tried to kill me for being willing to sacrifice our son for my abstract sense of honor, but I’m the one who bought that couch’? She’d shoot him again. As she should. And he knows it.

Deathstroke, epic divorce man whose wife took the house and kids and also his back-up toothbrushes probably, and who is still, legally, married to her.

#my posts #im not tagging characters bc i really don't wanna get any deathstroke fans on this post #i am making fun of him but not lovingly. i am pointing an laughing with malice #I don't like deathstroke and I have complicated feelings on adeline but they are truly the couple of all time #they're SO fucking funny

741 notes · View notes

sundrop-writes · 4 months

Text

Emergency Contact

Jason Todd x Gender Neutral Reader

You choke on your words, but you swallow them faster.

Just want you to be my Emergency Contact.

Summary:

After Jason miraculously comes home from his brush with Deathstroke, you’re both feeling it in very different ways. You have an unexpected physical wound from the battle, and he has many (very expected) emotional wounds. You help each other heal. Even if it’s very stubborn on both your parts.

Jason Todd x GN!Powered!Reader. Enemies/FWB to Lovers. Angst and Hurt/Comfort. (Slight Smut). Set during Season 2, Episode 5.

Word Count: 10,400

DC Titans Masterlist | AO3 Link

THIS IS A RE-POST. This is a fic from my old blog (a blog that was shadowbanned, forcing me to move). This fic is not stolen, it is completely mine, and I am just re-posting it to help people find my new blog, and to make my masterlist complete when I post new fics for this fandom.

Detailed warnings and author’s notes below the cut.

...

Warnings: general emotional angst, Jason has a self deprecating inner dialogue, (kind of) enemies to lovers - more like annoyances to fuck buddies to lovers, friends with benefits to lovers, the reader and Jason have a bantering/argumentative nature to their relationship, the reader is meant to be 100% gender neutral (the reader is never referred to in the third person, so there is no need to use they/them pronouns, but the reader is not called she/her or he/him), Jason calls the reader ‘babe’ (imo, a completely gender neutral term and he would call anybody that), mentions of alcohol (Jason drinking a beer), the reader character has ice powers (not entirely relevant to the plot but I couldn’t help myself lmao).

sexual themes throughout, mentions of sexting (no detailed descriptions), mentions of sexting in public, mentions of the reader character sending nudes to Jason (no detailed descriptions of the photos), one scene with detailed smut (but it is not the primary focus of the fic), the reader’s genitals are not described in any specific way, some dirty talk, Jason is more dominant and the reader is more submissive, penetrative sex, Jason is annoying even during sex, Jason has a pain kink (even when he’s a dom, he’s a painslut, I don’t make the rules), scratching/marking (Jason receiving), slight humiliation kink.

mentions of canon level violence, mentions of kidnapping (in alignment with canon), mentions of Jason being beaten by Deathstroke, mentions of Jason’s near-death experience (being dropped off the building), gun violence, the reader is injured - has a bullet wound/bullet fragment in their stomach, mentions of blood, descriptions of first-aid, mentions of puss from an infected wound (theoretically, not something that happens in the fic). That should be everything.

A/N: The title for the fic comes from a song by Pierce the Veil of the same name. It’s a newer song, and it’s one that I absolutely went to when looking for a title for this fic. The concept of becoming someone’s emergency contact is about upgrading the relationship from casual to much more serious, and just the whole song, and specific lyrics in it suit this fic so well. I highly recommend listening to it paired with this fic.

This was based on a request from my old blog, but obvi I don’t have that ask anymore - the request was about Jason getting shot and having his wound attended to by the reader, but I changed it to the reader getting shot cause I thought that was more interesting and less common. If the person who made that request sees this and finds my new blog, I hope you enjoy it! And in general, I hope everyone who reads this enjoys it.

This is another re-post from my old blog, and I do have a sequel for it in my drafts, which I am not actively working on. And before I post the sequel, I do plan on tweaking this and revamping it a little, but I figured I would repost this for now just to have the masterlist complete on this blog.

...

If asked, you would be hard pressed to explain your relationship with Jason Todd.

The best way you could describe it would probably be - friends with benefits?

But most of the time, the two of you weren’t even friends. You weren’t the type to hang out casually, or spend time alone together if it didn’t involve ripping each other’s clothes off.

If you ever exchanged secrets or those precious bits of your most raw selves, it was by mistake. It was through sarcasm, or coming off the tired lips of someone who had just been exhausted by a few orgasms. The two of you knew each other well, quite literally inside and out. But you always made a deep, concerted effort to hold each other at arm’s length. And maybe that’s part of what all the snark and harsh words were for.

It wasn’t all arguing. You were friendly. You could be civil, at the very least.

Right from the moment you had first met Jason, you had found him to be so damn annoying, a shitstain on the earth - yet, someone you couldn’t stay away from. The line between flirtatious banter and a truly grinding argument was always so thin with the two of you.

…

You hadn’t expected that your life would be truly changed when you walked into that safehouse in Chicago that day. You truly thought nothing of him when his eyes landed on you - in those moments, a completely anonymous stranger, raking his eyes over you like you were a piece of meat. It was a gaze that immediately made you feel naked, something that made you want to smack him. You told yourself it was because he was being a pervert, not because of the heat that curled in your gut at feeling so intensely desired by him.

He had been sitting on the couch sipping a beer like he owned the place, his thighs spread wide in a way you immediately decided was arrogant and annoying rather than hot - showing off his muscle tone as if it was trying to break through his jeans. Definitely annoying. Definitely the stance of a fuckboy trying to look bigger and badder than he was. He definitely was not attractive.

When Dick led you, Rachel, Gar, and Kory further into the condo that seemed far too conspicuous to be a safehouse, the stranger you would later come to know as Jason quickly spoke up.

“Who are your friends?” He asked.

As he rose from the couch, his eyes lingered on you. Though his words seemed more out of curiosity, you couldn’t help but feel that bite of something more salacious lingering in his voice.

It caused you to scoff and roll your eyes.

“Not important.” Dick declared, his voice snippy. He was clearly annoyed with this new guy, and you could tell that your perceptions of him were definitely not ill-informed.

“Who’s he?” Kory asked, going for the obvious question.

“Not important.” Dick parroted out the words again, sounding much shorter with his patience.

“Anybody want a brew?” Jason asked, motioning with the beer bottle in his hand.

“Brew?” You twisted your eyebrows with disgust, staring him down as you commented on his odd choice of slang.

He didn’t get to reply, as you were trampled over by Gar’s enthusiastic voice in your ear.

“I do!” He said, raising his hand with excitement.

“No, you don’t.” You quickly told him, reaching out to grab his hand and put it back down. “It’s disgusting.”

You had a grand suspicion that Gar had never drank beer before, and he had no idea what he was truly asking for. Rather, he was simply taking advantage of trying new things because Dick and Kory were incredibly slack parental figures and he was away from home for the first time.

“No, no one wants a brew.” Dick sighed, shaking his head. He threw Jason a small glare and you resisted the urge to laugh.

“That can’t be Adamson.” Kory said, motioning toward Jason.

This left you confused. But you didn’t question it.

“He’s not Adamson. Adamson’s in the bathroom. Unconscious.” Dick explained.

“Hi, I’m Rachel.” Rachel told Jason, offering him a sweet smile - being her usual sweet self.

“Jason.” He introduced himself, in that moment, finally giving you a name to that obnoxious face.

“I’m Gar!” Gar said with a grin, to which Jason nodded.

Jason caught you glaring at him, and looked you up and down again, as if trying to willfully tear off your clothes with his eyes. It made your skin itch with heat and you would forever deny that it was a feeling you liked.

“What can I call you, babe?” He asked, his voice entirely slimy, the kind of tone he would have used to recite cheesy lines to Tinder dates, you were entirely sure of.

Before you could come up with some clever reply, Dick sighed in frustration and started balking again.

“Okay, who we all are doesn’t matter right now.” He pressed, his neck so entirely tense that veins began to pop from the skin. “Can we just chill out, relax, sit on the couch and watch TV or something?”

It seemed that he wouldn’t get his wish.

Gar quickly charged around the table, finding something else to get strung up about.

“Yo, when did you get another one?” He asked, putting his hands on both of the expensive cases on the long dining table - a copy identical to the one you knew to be containing Dick’s Robin outfit.

It made you curious, and the answer that followed certainly surprised you.

“That one’s mine.” Jason said, his chest literally puffing out with pride as he stated the fact.

“No way.” You scoffed.

“Yes way.” He quickly argued back, the whole exchange sounding entirely juvenile.

“This one’s yours? Wait, you’re Robin too?” Gar quickly put the pieces together.

“I thought you were Robin?” Rachel commented, tilting her head toward Dick with curiosity.

“I am.” Dick said firmly.

“He was.” Jason corrected, a cocky smirk forming across his lips.

“Batman really lowered the height requirement, huh.” You said.

The words flew from your mouth before you could stop them, seeing as it was likely the only thing you could nitpick about Jason’s appearance. Between his stunning sharp jaw, his piercing blue eyes, his oddly appealing wild hair, his muscle tone being somehow visible beneath his baggy clothing - all of it made you equally frustrated and annoyed with him, and your baser urges couldn’t resist the low-hanging fruit.

You felt victory and a slight pang of guilt when Jason deflated because of your comment, shrinking back into himself at your words.

He didn’t have anything to say in return, he simply sipped his beer.

“Wait, how many Robins are there?” Gar said, beginning to excitedly ramble at the thought. “Are there a lot? Cause I would love to-”

“Okay, quiet.” Kory cut him off, clearly becoming annoyed with all of this dancing around the point as much as Dick was. “Sit.”

Her words were firm, and you couldn’t help but to listen. You found yourself collapsing to sit on the couch while Rachel and Gar took seats at the dining table. Jason continued to linger in the middle of the room, staring at Kory and Dick as their frustration filled the air.

“Bathroom.” Kory told Dick, and then they left to deal with whoever - or whatever - Adamson was.

Jason sighed and took a seat beside you. When his eyes fell on you, you set your jaw and glared at him. You didn’t give away a single ounce of the heat you were feeling as his eyes locked with yours.

“Even if I am the shorter Robin, I can assure you that everything else about me is… very long.” He lowered his voice and whispered those last words, crowding into your personal space as he did so.

It sent shivers down your spine, his silken voice making the words sound too tempting. Even if you twisted your face and said ‘gross!’ causing him to dissolve into laughter, you didn’t make an effort to move away from him or put any space between your two bodies on the very large couch. You told yourself it was because you were tired from a very long day of travel, not because you were enjoying the smell of his strangely expensive cologne from this close by.

His grin was still entirely smug, and you couldn’t stand it.

When he raised the beer bottle up to his mouth again, you reached over and put a hand on his forearm, forcefully dragging his arm down as you made a snide comment.

“That shit is disgusting, why the hell do you drink it?” You asked.

You found your face drifting toward his again and if asked, you would say it was a form of intimidation - not that you were being drawn in by an unconscious attraction to him.

“Because I can.” He replied, just as snide as he slipped your grip and sipped on the drink.

You mocked his words in an entirely childish voice, and then you raised a single finger up to it and skimmed along the neck of the bottle. It took only a single moment of concentration with your skilled powers to freeze the beer inside solid. He thought he felt an extra chill coming off his hand, but convinced himself that he imagined it. But when he kept it tilted and nothing came out to meet his lips, he shook it and then stuck an inquiring eye inside the bottle.

When he saw that it was completely frozen, he looked over and saw you grinning, and little did you know - that was the moment he became completely taken with you. You were one of the most annoying people he had ever met, and he found himself so intensely attracted to you.

Even if it was getting under your skin by arguing with you or fucking your brains out, he knew in that moment - he had to get inside you and drive you insane the same way that he knew you would for him.

…

When Dick left to go check on his old circus friend Clay, Jason winked at you and said ‘don’t miss me too much’. You made a show of putting a finger near your mouth and audibly gagging.

Later that night, when Jason didn’t return, you hated the curl of disappointment that panged in your stomach. You wanted to hit yourself for staring at the door, waiting for the second Robin to come in behind Dick.

You hated yourself even more for replying to Jason’s texts.

Apparently he had taken your phone out of your jacket pocket when you went to the bathroom (not to see Adamson - a different bathroom, to pee). And he had put himself in your contacts as ‘Hot Guy’. He had also sent himself a text from your phone that read ‘omg Jason you’re so hot, will you fuck me?’. And then replied to it from his own phone with a picture of his cock.

Unfortunately, the only thing you could mock about the picture was poor lighting.

When you told him as much, he quickly remedied that with several more pictures - ones with better lighting. He sent a video with very distinct audio. You would deny that you rushed to put your headphones in to listen to it while you sat on the train with Kory and Gar. You would deny that it drove a hard, hot pain between your thighs.

You dug through a folder and sent some pictures of your own. You told yourself it was to prove to him that you were too good for him - to show off something he could never actually have. To tease him.

You would deny that you loved the compliments he gave you, that you ate up the affection like a plant lovingly soaking up the sun.

When you were sexting him, you had no clue that you were ever going to see him again. It was almost mindless, something for a dopamine hit to distract yourself from all the chaos going on around you. You weren’t doing it because you actually liked Jason. You didn’t have any real attractions toward him, or any real plans to carry out all of the bold things you said in those messages.

You had no clue that you’d end up living together.

When you did find out that Dick would be taking Jason into the newly reopened Titans Tower along with you, Gar, and Rachel, you didn’t make a big deal of it in your mind. When Jason made flirtatious remarks toward you in person, you brushed him off. You put up a wall.

You told yourself that he was nothing more than a cocky, shallow guy who would use you for sex and then throw you away - something you could never actually build a proper relationship with. And if you were supposed to live together, be some kind of team like Dick expected you to be, then you couldn’t be messy. You couldn’t get emotional.

You had no clue that on one of those first nights living together, your self assured discipline not to give into your lust for him would break like a wafer cookie, and you would be in his bed faster than a sea turtle running into ocean.

…

“Fuck, babe, you feel so good on my cock.” Jason grunted, his face buried in your neck as he thrusted deep inside of you. The loud squelch of artificial wetness coming from between your thighs as he worked his hips, working you open with a needy, demanding pace. “Bet you love this cock, huh? Tell me how fuckin’ much you love it.”

“Shut up.”

The words came from your throat as a weak whimper, much less powerful than you had intended.

You didn’t want to give him any more power than he already held over you - he had you weak and willing on his cock, something you would have never admitted could be true until it was happening in these moments.

Though you would never admit it aloud, you loved the way he handled you. Having you pinned against the bed with his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips, having you breathless and moaning as he fucked into you with fast, obviously skilled strokes. Your nails cut into the flesh of his back, and he let out a low rumble from his gut as the sharp sting sent a wave of pleasure through him.

You hated the twinge of lustful embarrassment that curled in your gut when he chuckled at your words.

“Oh, you want me to shut up?” He asked, slightly breathless from the act himself, moving one hand beside your head to raise himself up slightly to look in your eyes.

He was sweaty, disheveled, his hair a mess, his muscles taught with the effort as he continued to pound into you. You hated that you had imagined him much like this before, and that this outlived all of your fantasies.

“Yes.” You fired back. “Just shut up and fuck me.”

He bit his lip - something you didn’t know was him trying to hold back his orgasm, so utterly turned on by your bratty defiance, the twinge of a whimper in your voice as you said those words.

“You weren’t tellin’ me to shut up when I was texting you.”

He said, all hot breath fanning across your chin, his hips spearing forward in sharp, hard hits that made your skin smack loudly together. It made you work hard to suppress moans deep in your chest in a way that was painful, like venom inside your lungs. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of your sounds, of knowing just how good he was fucking you - even if he could see it written all over your pleasure twisted face.

“You only begged for more when I was tellin’ you how I was gonna lay you on my bed. Take you apart… make you scream my name.”

He reached his other hand from your hip to the point where you were joined. He began touching that tender place, making sharp, vicious strokes that were almost vengeful. Tears easily gathered in your eyes and he let out another chuckle when you choked on a deep, pleasurable wail.

“Tell me, how many times did you touch yourself reading what I wrote?”

He asked, leaning down to whisper the words right in your ear.

“How many times did you cum thinking about me?”

“I didn’t.” You choked out, digging your nails deeper into the skin of his back, causing him to grunt as the pain mixed with the pleasure flowing through him.

“Sure, babe.” He smirked down at you, turning that look into something absolutely pavlovian that would forever make you feel his cock deep inside of you when you saw it, rather than feeling annoyed.

Maybe from that point on, it was a bit of both.

In an effort to shut him up, you reached up and claimed his lips. It was supposed to be a kiss, but it was mostly teeth. When you bit down on his bottom lip, snarling, he tasted blood and the way he moaned at the pain was absolutely unmistakable. It was something you remembered and used against him many times after that.

…

You wouldn’t allow yourself any room for self hatred when it came to that break in your self control. When it became an ongoing thing, you spun it as positive in your mind.

It was just sexual release. You and Jason both needed it. It paired well with intense training and the heavy studying that Dick made you do. It lowered your stress levels a lot, and it helped you get through the day.

The more time you spent around Jason, the more you got to know him, and the more you came to realize that he was nowhere near shallow. You easily saw that he was caring, deep, complex, troubled. The more time passed, you found yourself falling for him and the more you deeply denied it. Because it was just sex.

Things were good between the two of you, and you knew that if you added anything else to the mix - any complicated, mushy feelings - you would fuck it up.

You were especially reminded of this - how important it was not to fuck things up - just a day or so before every other force aside from you railed Titans Tower and began royally fucking things up.

…

It was a morning just like any other at Titans Tower. It was delightfully quiet - even though Dick demanded that everyone get up at ungodly early hours to begin training, you had somehow managed to wake up before everyone else and you were enjoying the peace it brought you.

When you got up to see that Jason was already in the kitchen, standing at the counter as he munched on a bowl of cereal, you wanted to scorn the idea that your peace would be interrupted. But instead, you found yourself willfully suppressing a smile.

You yawned and walked over to the counter, grabbing a bowl from one of the cupboards, thinking that cereal was just the right idea on his part. A deep frown cut through your face when you poured out the rest of the cereal box he had left on the counter, and a very measly amount fell into your bowl.

“What kind of asshole only leaves three fucking cornflakes in the bottom of the box?” You scoffed, causing him to chuckle.

“Learn to count, babe.” He told you, speaking with his mouth half-full. “That’s more than three.”

You rolled your eyes. You were likely exaggerating - but still, it seemed rude to you to leave such a small portion, barely a handful, in the bottom of the box.

“Or did I make you cum so hard last night that I knocked the common sense out of your head?” He added on, throwing you that signature smirk that made heat bloom between your thighs.

You let out a sarcastic snort, giving him a purposefully disgusted grimace as you lifted the bowl up and dumped the remaining cereal into his portion instead.

“You might as well take these.” You told him. “And don’t flatter yourself, you’re not that good.”

You moved behind them, distracting yourself from the conversation by making a cup of coffee.

“Oh really?” He perked up, rising to his full height, pure mischief in his voice. “It didn’t sound like it last night.”

Much to your horror, he then began imitating your moans.

“‘Oh, Jason! Oh, fuck me! More!’”

It was a cartoonish, pornographic imitation, something he likely wouldn’t have done if the others were anywhere within earshot. Oddly enough, even though your relationship was casual, you still kept it guarded and private, as though it were some precious secret that needed to be kept from the others.

“‘Jason, please, your dick is the best! Oh, make me cum!’”

But that was the farthest thing from your mind as embarrassment curled in your stomach, the reaction he likely wanted to draw out of you. You hated that you didn’t truly know if it was accurate or not, because sometimes - yes, he did fuck your brains out and make you completely mindless on his cock.

But you would never admit that he was right.

“Shut up.” You sighed, causing him to dissolve into laughter, feeling as though he had won.

But you wouldn’t simply leave it at that.

Instead, as you pushed the button on the machine and your coffee began to drip, you turned around and gently placed your fingers on the side of his cereal bowl. You froze all the milk inside of it solid, making it into one large frozen chunk with the spoon stuck inside when he wasn’t looking - distracted, staring at your face, looking for any trace of the reaction that he had drawn out of you.

You just glared, and he smirked once more.

When he picked up the spoon again and went to take another bite, the entire bowl came with it. He sighed in defeat when he realized what you had done.

“You know, it’s so damn annoying when you do that.” He sighed.

“I know.” You grinned at him.

He couldn’t help the butterflies that fluttered in his stomach at this. He resisted the urge to grab you by the sides of your head and steal the grin of your mouth with his own. He told you that it was out of annoyance, and not affection. He told himself those lines were most definitely not blurred when it came to you.

…

Confessing your feelings to Jason would not have been your choice.

Given the choice, you would have let your feelings quietly live and die inside of you. You would have just kept Jason as a friend. You would have even dropped the amazing sex if it meant staying on good terms with him.

But the stakes rose pretty quickly, and things were taken out of your hands. The choice was stolen from you and Jason entirely against your will.

When you found out he was missing, supposedly kidnapped by Doctor Light on the heels of some misguided plan - something inside of you shattered. Up until that moment, if you thought it was just a stupid crush, or an infatuation inside of you that would easily fade with time - you quickly found out that you were wrong.

You went through the stages of grief like a rocket.

Denial. Staring at the door, waiting for him to walk inside at any moment. Just like you had back at the safehouse.

Anger. Being so pissed at Dick at the other older Titans that you could barely breathe. How had they let this happen to him? How could they make him feel so inadequate that he felt the need to go out on his own, half-cocked, clearly doing something in the name of looking for their approval?

Bargaining. You would have traded places with him. You would have been the one, alone and scared and stranded if it meant that he got to be at home safe. You would have gone with him to carry out the stupid plan if he had only asked. Why hadn’t he asked you?

Depression. You wept in your room, hands clasped over your face, letting out chest-shaking sobs as you thought of the possibility of him never returning home again. You realized the possibility of him dying was very real and it made your lungs burn.

And then finally - Acceptance. You finally accepted that your feelings for him were something bigger, and if it meant that you were the only person in the Tower who truly cared about him (probably aside from Gar) - the only person who didn’t just see him as a pawn to be used against Deathstroke - then you had to do something about it.

So you laid out your love for Jason. You put it all on the line for him. You accidentally confessed to him, showed your feelings in a gesture so quiet it screamed.

You knew that for someone who stepped up to become Robin, someone who scorned cops for pummeling down on the innocent when they were supposed to be protectors - stepping up to try and save his life meant a love bigger than anything else you could have done.

And he was terrified of it. There was a big justice in your love for him. And to him, there was an even bigger justice in giving you an out to escape it - to escape loving him.

…

Hectic.

That was easily how you would describe the last few days at Titans Tower.

Between the unexpected arrival of Rose - Dick taking on another stray because, like Rachel said, he couldn’t resist a bird with a broken wing. Finding out that she was related to one of the deadliest men on earth that the Titans apparently had previous history with. And then Jason going off on his own without telling you, some botched hostage trade, and the group picking up yet another stray - a strange boy who had saved Jason’s life. It was all a blur of hectic chaos that had you snapping your neck to keep up.

Sleep was scarce and you couldn’t remember the last time you’d had a proper meal.

But you weren’t truly worried about any of that.

Dust had been kicked up around your life, and you couldn’t wait for it to settle before you made your next important decision.

Even though the wounds were still tender, you knew that things were safe for now, and your number one concern was Jason.

The minute he had gotten in the door, even though he was slightly hobbled and clearly sore from whatever Deathstroke had done to him, he rushed out of your sight. He was clearly eager to get away from everyone like a wounded animal sulking away to lick his wounds in peace. And when you had chased him, ignoring a nagging pain in your own side from the fight, he had slammed his bedroom door in your face, entirely uncaring of the fact that you called out his name, concerned for him.

The rest of the group was distracted with Conner - not knowing what he had been shot with or how to fix it. You hated it, but in the eyes of the group, yet again, Jason and any of his problems fell to the back burner.

After you had taken a short shower and changed your clothes, you found yourself here. Standing in front of Jason’s closed bedroom door, hoping not to face another cold rejection.

You wondered if he would be sleeping, wondered if you should interrupt his peace. But you knew that sleep was unlikely after everything that had happened.

So you took the leap.

You raised a fist, once again pushing down that stinging pain coming from the right side of your stomach. You reasoned that it was probably nothing more than a bruise forming there. And you knocked on the door.

A few moments later, the door was jerked open, and Jason glared at you.

His eyes were dull and tired, and there was a large bruise forming on the side of his mouth. Probably one of many others that you couldn’t see, from the way he had been walking earlier. He likely hadn’t been sleeping, but you had disturbed him.

“What the hell do you want?” He grumbled out, his voice dull, lacking any true fight.

“I wanted to check on you.” You told him, entirely honest. “I know it might seem stupid, but I wanna see how you’re doing.”

Jason scoffed and rolled his eyes.

He wanted to agree that - yes, it was stupid. It should have been obvious how he was doing after being kidnapped, beaten, and dropped off a building. But he was an idiot who had gotten himself thrown headfirst into that mess, thinking he could handle it. And he didn’t need to go crying to you about how badly he had fucked up. He had made a poor choice and he deserved all of the consequences. It was a simple fact of life.

“I’m doing just fine, thanks.” Jason said, entirely snide and sarcastic. “Look, I don’t need your help, okay? So fuck off.”

It was a set of harsh, cutting words. But he thought getting distance from you would be best. This whole thing had woken him up from the sweet little fantasy the two of you had been participating in. He was a natural born fuck-up. And sure, he could have you for a while, play around a bit - but he could never truly make you happy. Eventually, he would fuck you up too. He was a harsh poison and it would be better if he got out of your life before you felt the full effects.

He moved to shove the door closed and upon instinct, you reached up and fought him on it. Unconsciously, you winced as a sharp pain came from the injury in your stomach, reaching for it with your free hand as you held the door open with the other. It should have been no big deal. With your meta abilities, you usually healed quicker. You weren’t even used to feeling it when you got hurt. You were probably just feeling it worse because you were tired.

You tried to ignore the pain. But in a moment, Jason’s eyes went wide with worry as his gaze darted from your face, knit with pain, to where your hand was nursing the injury. Any sense of smarmy discontent dropped from his features, immediately being replaced with a softness and worry for you.

“You’re hurt.” He said quietly.

He let the door fall open again, reaching for your hand to inspect the injury himself.

“I’m fine.” You played the card this time, exchanging his lie for your own.

It was an odd play. He had lied about not being so torn up inside, emotionally devastated as he was, and now you were lying about not being physically injured from the fight. The two of you made an odd, but perfectly matched pair.

Jason barreled right past your words, and you were easily pliant to his touch as he removed your hand from the injury. You certainly were not expecting for him to find anything incriminating under your hand. But he glared at you when he found bright red spread across your palm, a glossy wetness leaking through your shirt.

“You’re bleeding.” He grunted at you.

Clearly, he was disappointed in the fact that you had neglected to bring this injury to the group’s attention. Pissed off at the fact that you weren’t in the medbay with Conner receiving some treatment right now.

Maybe you could blame it on the chaos. Maybe you could blame it on the fact that with everyone so emotionally distraught, you didn’t want to be just another problem for everyone to fuss over.

“Whoops.” You breathed out sarcastically. “I didn’t even notice.”

That last part was honest. In all the adrenaline, all your worrying over whether or not Jason was going to live as you watched him dangle so high off the ground - you truly hadn’t paid any mind to the injury.

“You didn’t-?” Jason huffed out in anger, but didn’t bother finishing the sentence.

Perhaps he partially understood himself, knowing how the adrenaline from a fight could stamp out pain. Or perhaps he knew how truly stubborn you were and he didn’t want to waste his energy arguing with you.

“You need this treated.” He added on.

No matter how fucked in the head he was, he never wanted to see you hurt. That was something he would definitely waste his energy on - wearing down your stubbornness until you let him or someone else in the house take care of the injury properly.

“Conner is worse off than I am.” You shrugged. “He needs the attention more.”

“Then let me help you.” He said, an impatient nagging rising up in his throat. “Bruce gave me some first aid training. One thing that means I’m not totally useless.”

The words made your chest ache for him, a pain that easily competed with the bleeding wound.

“Jason-”

You wanted to argue with him. You wanted to tell him he had infinite worth to you.

But of course, he cut you off.

“Just go sit on the bed.” He told you, quiet, but a firm command that you couldn’t ignore.

He gently pushed past you, on a quest for some supplies to patch you up with. You then found yourself drifting into his room almost mindlessly, your hand clutching the wound again upon instinct. It was a place that you felt oddly at home. The nights you had spent in that bed since coming to Titans Tower, your head delightfully empty as he had fucked you hard and fast - they were by far your favourites.

You would say it was because of the sex, and not just because you got to be wrapped up in Jason’s arms. Maybe everything had changed. Maybe your answers were different now. Maybe you were raw and tender and Jason wasn’t prepared to chase you in that devotion.

But that was just the thing. With you and Jason, there was never any sense of devotion. You and Jason were always hard and fast. Teasing each other, verging on the edge of vengeful. It was a flame that burned intensely hot - but it was never anything soft. It was never anything that prompted you to knock on his door so late, wanting to check on his well being. It was nothing that prompted you to make chase to put your life on the line for him.

Even just knowing that he had the intent to attend to your injury, called himself useful because of it - the thought cradled you like a warm blanket. It had you balancing on the edge of a dam holding back a barrage of feelings that you had been quelling down since the moment you had first put your lips on his.

“I told you to sit.” Jason’s voice came from behind you.

He had raided the infirmary and now had a handful of supplies - luckily without anyone seeing him or questioning why. When you turned to him, he was closing the bedroom door behind him, sealing you both in with this newfound soft intensity, the tired lull of two people unwilling to hold back that softness anymore. It was entirely dangerous, and entirely life-saving at the same time; and neither of you realized it.

“Since when do you get to boss me around?” You told him, your voice low and lacking any true spirit or sarcasm.

It was in the same vein as the banter the two of you usually threw around - bickering about who was a bigger asshole, who was more stubborn, who was better in bed.

You expected some kind of sexual comment in return. You could almost hear it now - he was the boss of you because he made you melt on his cock, made you mindless and dumb with it.

But, no dice.

The longer you stared at him, catching bits of the fresh pain swimming through those gorgeous blue eyes, you wished so badly for the mischief and sarcasm and light to come back and bite you the way that it used to.

It only made your stomach churn harder at the whole situation. Things had officially changed between you and Jason. You had yet to find out if it was for the better, or for the painstakingly worse.

Jason sighed through his nose.

“You can be such an asshole sometimes.” He told you. Coming from him, and given the nature of your relationship, you knew it was almost a compliment. “Will you just sit down and let me help you?”

Even though you were utterly terrified of the swelling of emotions you felt, bound to come to a head - you did.

You sat on the edge of the bed and he placed the supplies beside you.

When he mumbled out a quiet ‘lay back’, and you did, his cool fingertips at the hem of your shirt pulling it upward felt strangely more intimate than any other time you had been in this same position. It wasn’t heady, you weren’t granted the distraction of his mouth on yours and his tongue shoved between your lips while a harsh throbbing nagged between your legs.

This was quiet, and calm, and gentle.

When you caught his eye above you as he wiped away the blood with some clean gauze, you saw nothing but pity and worry and sparkling affection for you. You almost dared to call it something as epic and dangerous as love, buried deep in his eyes. He worked with the most delicate touch, almost as if he was afraid to break you, before he glanced down and inspected the wound.

His brow furrowed with even more intense worry, guilt nipping at his insides when he got a good look at it.

“I think I see a bullet in here.” He told you, and then he moved around the bed and grabbed his phone, turning on the flashlight to have a better light to inspect it. You felt intensely naked, intensely caught when he began shining the light on your stomach with a harshly inquisitive look across his face. “Definitely something shiny. You got shot and you didn’t fucking tell anyone?”

It was only then that you realized when you had gotten the wound - the exact moment clicking into place in your mind.

“It was only a ricochet.” You argued quietly. “It’s not that bad.”

Jason scoffed and rolled his eyes, and began sorting out his supplies, preparing to pull out whatever was lodged inside of you.

…

Dick explicitly told you to stay put.

They only wanted the more experienced Titans, the Varsity squad on the case when dealing with Deathstroke. He blamed young naive incompetence as the reason Jason had gotten captured in the first place. You blamed him and Bruce pushing Jason out, making him feel like he needed so desperately to prove himself. But it was something Dick wasn’t ready to hear - an argument you weren’t going to have with the very stubborn team leader.

Instead, you went for the silent route. You trailed the rest of them out of Tower, and when Dick strayed away from the rest of the group, his head on a swivel as he glanced back and forth, seemingly wanting to assure that none of the others were following him - you followed your gut instincts and went after him.

You hid in the shadows and the moment that Deathstroke hit the button and those panels scrolled up, revealing Jason stranded on that scaffolding - you couldn’t help yourself.

“Jason!”

You screamed out his name, you leapt forward.

Dick didn’t have time to scold you, not before the gunfire started.

Kory came out of nowhere - seemingly, she had the same idea as you. Putting her life on the line for an emotionally repressed man that she hadn’t admitted her feelings for. But she was there because she was in love with the other Robin. (Or rather, a man who claimed over and over again that he wasn’t Robin.)

Things quickly became a blur - flashes of flame as Kory fought, battling with the muzzle flashes from Deathstroke’s guns, limbs flying as they fought each other. You didn’t see it, but Deathstroke raised and aimed at you as you rushed toward the window, blindly going after Jason. In response, Dick charged forward, redirecting the gun as he pulled the trigger. You heard the sharp ‘ping’ sound of metal on metal - what you couldn’t see was the bullet hitting one of the metal beams in the ceiling. But you certainly felt it when it sliced into your side.

At the time, it was nothing compared to the fear you felt for Jason.

His eyes were wide with terror, and you could only focus on getting him to safety. You had no idea that a large part of his panic came from seeing you in the building. He had hoped that Dick would keep you away from all of this. But there you were, standing a few feet away from a man with a gun who was shooting around wildly. Jason would have delighted in being dropped off the building to his death if he had to see you get fatally shot when he could do nothing but squirm on the other side of the glass.

You put two hands on the glass, banging on it - of course, it was no use. It was inches thick, meant to keep people from going through it at this height. Working entirely on instinct, you put your palms flat across it and began forming ice crystals over it, hoping to make it rigid and breakable if it was frozen.

Once there was enough ice, you quickly looked around and spotted a metal pipe there for the in-progress construction of the building, so you grabbed it and rushed to smash the glass with it. You felt victorious as it shattered, and Jason flinched away from the shards, putting you one step closer to freeing him.

Though the moment the glass was cleared, leaving the wind whipping around you, his first words of greeting to you were not celebratory.

“What the hell are you doing here?” He barked at you, clearly angry with you.

You felt a dull ache in your chest at this. You thought he might be relieved, happy, pleased. At the time, you couldn’t interpret his harsh reaction as worry for you possibly getting hurt.

Nonetheless, you ignored his harshness. You would save him, whether he wanted to be saved or not. You draped your body through the window, reaching out to him. You made an effort to keep most of your weight planted on the floor of the building, in case the scaffolding wasn’t stable enough to hold two people at once.

“What do you think?” You replied, pure sarcasm dripping through your voice as you reached behind Jason and began fiddling with the rope around his wrists.

The position put the two of you in intensely close proximity. Jason caught a whiff of your unique scent, the shower gel you used that mingled with your body’s natural oils; and he felt so painfully at home. For the first time that night, he held back tears. He couldn’t help but to lean his forehead on your shoulder, taking comfort in having you so near after being on edge and terrified for so many hours. You resisted the urge to run a hand through his hair, to cradle him and give him further comfort. You forced yourself to focus on the task at hand - getting him to safety.

Behind you, at the very back of the room, Dick and Deathstroke wrestled with the remote for the explosives attached to the scaffolding.

Just as you managed to get Jason’s wrists freed, Deathstroke hit the switch, and the bombs went off.

…

You winced loudly as Jason dabbed at the wound with disinfectant.

“I would say sorry… but, you’ll thank me later when this isn’t swollen and leaking puss.” He told you, throwing you a small smirk.

It was smug. It was the usual kind of humor that he gave you.

It was comforting to know that every trace of the Jason you knew hadn’t been stolen by Deathstroke.

You held your breath as he pressed down with the medicine-covered gauze again, drawing much less of a reaction out of you this time.

“Great mental image, Jay.” You replied, your voice dull. It lacked any of the true bite you wanted to deliver in response to him. “I’m sure it’s such a turn-on thinking about my puss.”

It was meant to be a joke. But even unconsciously, it was an acknowledgement of that dangerous line - the line between truly caring and just using someone for sex. The line between having someone in your life as a body to get off with, and being so… homely with them.

You and Jason were towing that line dangerously. It was a thread that you were balancing on, and it would either break, or you would cross to the other side and be forever bonded to him.

Jason shrugged. “Maybe I don’t have to be turned on by you all the time.”

There was more stuck in his throat. Another dangerous acknowledgement of that line.

‘Maybe I just have to care.’

Both of you lulled into silence because neither of you dared to say it.

After a few moments, Jason put down the gauze and hesitated to reach for the tweezers. He knew that pulling the bullet out would be painful, but inevitable. It was a lot like the state of your relationship with him. Break it off, and find happiness elsewhere, or acknowledge this big thing swelling to fruition between the two of you. Have Jason fuck it up eventually. Painful, but inevitable.

“You shouldn’t have to be hurt like this.” Jason said quietly. “You shouldn’t have gotten hurt for my sake.”

There it was again - words with a dangerous double meaning.

You looked up at him, pure pain knit across his face, and for a moment he looked from the tweezers to you and he could hardly stand holding your gaze.

‘It’s worth it.’ You wanted to say. ‘For you, I’d bear any pain.’

The words lived and died behind your eyes, and your tongue decided on something else entirely.

“It’s nothing.” You told him.

You downplayed the pain, pretending that the injury was only a minor inconvenience for you. And in the grand scheme of life, it was. With time, it would heal. Losing Jason would be something you’d never heal from.

Jason shook his head at this statement.

He forced himself to reach for the tweezers then. He handed you his phone, a silent agreement that you would hold the light as steady as you could. He knew you well, too well, and he knew that you needed something else to focus on to push away the pain. He put his free hand on the plush of your stomach, pulling back slightly to hold the wound open while you held the light on it.��

When the sharp metal of the tweezers breached your wound, you wanted to swear. You wanted to call him an asshole as the pain shot through you. You wanted to scold him for leaving the Tower and being kidnapped in the first place. But you knew that even if it was playful or sarcastic, fueled by the bite of your pain, it was not what he needed to hear right now. So instead, you held your breath, and gripped his phone hard, keeping the light steady as you bared the sharp shocks of pain.

After a moment of digging around that felt like an eternity, he pulled out the fragment and held it up to show you as you collapsed back against the bed, panting with tears stinging the edges of your eyes.

“It’s not nothing.” He declared sharply.

You couldn’t conjure a response. You knew he was right. And you didn’t want to be forced to admit it.

Instead, you turned off the light from his phone and relaxed into the bed, closing your eyes as he walked around to the trashcan and threw out the bullet fragment. It fell into the bottom of the plastic wastebasket with a very small ‘ping’ - making you wonder how something so small could cause so much trouble.

Jason quickly returned to you, dabbing more disinfectant into the wound in a way that made you groan and flex away from the touch. Once again, he did not apologize.

There were a few moments of muddy silence with nothing but your slightly labored breathing, trying to contain your sounds of pain so as to not make him feel any further guilt about the whole incident.

Your mind churned, and you couldn’t help the next words that came from your mouth.

“I meant what I said.” You told him.

At the sound of this, his hands immediately stilled. You felt his eyes on you, and you forced yourself to open your own and look up at him once again. He stared you down with intense examination. He looked for any ounce of falsity, any sign that you were lying, even posturing to make him feel better after everything that had happened.

He didn’t find any.

You thought he might acknowledge you, that he might say something back to return your mighty words. Instead, he simply reached for more gauze, and began putting a final bandage on your wound.

…

The explosion caused a sharp rattle through your ears. It shocked you and made you dizzy and put the whole world off-kilter. The only thing you could perceive past the mind-numbing hum in your brain was the feeling of Jason’s rough glove gripping tightly onto your wrist, so you gripped back as hard as you could.

When you blinked open your eyes, you were half-hanging out of the open window, the edge of the floor cutting into your waist as you held onto Jason by nothing but his wrist. His whole body weight created a harsh burn, straining on the muscles in your shoulder as you watched him dangle hundreds of feet above the street.

Panic flooded you.

You scrambled to reach out with your other hand, and the moment you moved, your shirt slipped against the sleek, polished material of the floor and you began sliding out the window. You gasped and Jason stilled his panicked flailing immediately.

“Don’t move!” He shouted.

“Give me your other hand so I can pull you up!” You shouted back.

Beyond the unpleasant hum of your eardrums rattling, you still heard chaos behind you. Gunshots, the grunts of fighting, Kory and Dick’s voices yelling. They were busy with Deathstroke, they couldn’t help you or Jason.

Jason looked up at you with glassy eyes.

He knew that with all his gear weighing him down, even with the training you had been doing, you wouldn’t be able to pull him up. Not by yourself. And if you weren’t careful, his body weight would just pull you out of the window and cause you to go tumbling down to your death along with him.

When you saw that frown etch across his lips, that filthy look of dawning - you glared at him.

“Give me your other hand!” You screamed, your voice raking across your throat like hot coals. A hot boiling rage at the fact that he seemed almost determined to die.

There was one thing he was determined about. If he was going to die, he wasn’t going to take you down with him.

His gloved wrist started to slip from your nervous, sweaty palm, and you tried hard to hold on tight. You formed large shards of ice, hoping you could create some kind of bond there by freezing your hand to his. But it would only be temporary with gravity trying to tear the two of you apart.

“You have to drop me, Y/N.” He said, nothing but pure mourning on his lips. “I’m dead weight.”

You both knew it was a horrendous double meaning.

He thought he was a dead weight to your life.

“No!” You immediately defied this thought, that feral rage ripping at your throat once again. “I’m gonna pull you up. I’m gonna pull you up!”

You reached your other hand down and tightly wrapped both of your hands around his wrist, yanking upward. The harsh movement caused you to slide even further out the window. You were now dangling dangerously over San Francisco with only the thickness of your thighs giving you any real stability on the intensely high up floor. It made you dizzy, and the only thing you had to focus on were the wet wells of Jason’s eyes staring up at you.

“It’s no use!” Jason said tearfully.

You ignored him.

You cast your chin over your shoulder, and began shouting.

“Help me!” You screamed, trying desperately to get the attention of Dick or Kory. “Help me! Fuck!”

“You have to let go.”

Jason’s words immediately shifted your focus back to him.

But of course, you refused.

“I’m not letting go of you!” You declared sharply. “Not that easily.”

As he stared up at your tearful eyes, he knew that you meant it as more.

Unfortunately, it was the one thing he was terrified of.

He thought that you saw him as some shiny perfect thing, something good and worth having in your life. He thought that you were incapable of seeing the poison, the true fuck-up that he was. If you didn’t let go of him, sooner or later, just like everyone else in his life, you were going to get burned.

So Jason did what he had to do.

He began prying your fingers off his wrist, trying his best to keep you stable while he forced himself from your grip.

“No!” You shrieked. “No, no, no-”

You didn’t have much room to fight him about it without falling out of the window yourself.

You made a move to readjust, to get a tighter grip on him - and it was the one deadly move that caused him to slip out of your touch completely.

You were forced to watch on in chest clenching horror, blinking through heavy tears as he began hurtling toward the ground.

…

If not for Conner - a literal miracle - swooping in and saving Jason at the last second, then you would have spent the rest of your life regretting those moments, wondering what you could have done differently to save him.

When Jason finished taping down the bandages, making sure the wound was clean and secure, he laid his palm flat on top of it. It was a kind of ‘kissing it better’ that instantly spread warmth curling through your gut. It was a touch so incredibly tender - especially compared to the heated, aggressive groping you were used to from him - that it caused a whimper from the back of your throat.

You knew it was unlikely, but you hoped that he hadn’t heard it.

“All done.” He said quietly.

You instantly felt regret when he took his hand away and began tidying up the medical supplies. But you forced yourself to sit upright, now feeling only muscle soreness and a much duller pain coming from the area. You felt intensely thankful for his care as you pulled your shirt back down, righting your clothes back into place.

“You’re free to go now.” Jason told you, his voice still low, as though a single decibel would shatter the delicate peace between the two of you.

You felt your heart sink.

In an instant, you understood what it was - he was concerned about your physical wellbeing, but he didn’t actually want to have you around. Just like his reaction to you showing up at the hostage exchange - he didn’t want your presence there.

You heaved a sigh and got off the bed as Jason busied himself with gathering up the used gauze to throw it away. As you put your hand on the doorknob, you couldn’t quite bring yourself to leave.

It was something else.

It had to be something else.

Jason hadn’t let himself drop off a building in some desperate ploy just to get away from you. He had been trying to save you.

He was so utterly willing to give his life for yours.

And now he was trying to back down from that.

You turned and faced him, leaving the door closed. When he turned from ditching things in the wastebasket, he froze. He was entirely surprised that you were still there.

The two of you locked eyes, both staying still - like a predator and prey locked in a stalemate, wondering who would run first.

In this situation, you weren’t sure who was the prey.

You were both so vulnerable.

Jason thought it would be selfish to get caught up in all of this, to finally admit those dangerous feelings he had for you. When he cared for things, he usually ended up breaking them. Of course, it was never on purpose - he was an idiot. Everything he touched, he fucked up. He had made that more than evident with his last braindead plan, the outing to prove that he was worthy of being Robin. Something that had gotten you shot, probably could have gotten you killed.

If you stuck with him any longer, you probably would end up being killed. And he would never forgive himself for that.

He would be better off ripping himself from your hold, as much as it hurt. Giving you a dose of that heartbreak now so that you could get over him and go after better things.

As you stared at Jason, you could see all the pain boiling underneath his surface. You wondered what he was thinking, what the hell he was churning over in that intense brain of his - but you didn’t dare to ask.

You knew that he needed to be held right now - in every sense of the word. You knew that he needed to be cared for the way he had cared for your wound, pushing past the pain in order to heal. You wondered if he would lay down and bear it or if he would continue to fight you.

You were the one to bravely step forward. Though Jason was tempted to ask you to leave, that thing inside of him yearning to marinate in his isolation because he deserved it, he pushed it down. He let his hands naturally come to sit on the plush comfort of your waist as you put a gentle touch on both his shoulders, leaning into his body ever so slightly.

You laid your forehead on his cheek, right next to that ugly bruise that had been left on him, and he let out a contented sigh as he felt your warmth envelope him. For the first time since his feet had touched the ground, he felt calm. He felt safe.

You smoothed a hand across his shoulder, and raised your head, using your touch to gently tip his face toward yours. He quickly realized that your intention was to kiss him. And something ached in his heart - something painful and longing. He knew that it would not be needy and haste with the intention of pile-driving toward sex like your other kisses had been. He knew that it would be the metamorphosis of your relationship that he was not prepared to go through.

He nuzzled along your forehead, gently stopping you.

“Please don’t do this.” He murmured quietly into your skin.

He knew that it would break him.

He knew that this was the moment - like Gatsby reaching up toward the stars - this would be the moment that he was tied to you forever, damned by his love for you. Only, much different than Gatsby, he wasn’t destined for some grant fate if he didn’t have you. He was on a one way path to a messy death, and he was determined not to take you down with him.

Tears pricked the edges of his eyes at the thought.

You pulled back, just enough to properly look him in the eyes, and your own tears formed when you saw that pathetic puppy dog looking back at you.

“Why not?” You demanded, much sharper than you intended. You knew he was fragile and you didn’t want to upset him any further than he already was.

“You know why.” He replied, his voice barely scraping above a whisper as the emotion clutched at his throat.

Jason wanted to hold onto you forever, but he was also a realistic person. He expected that any minute now, you would rip away from his arms and charge out the door, entirely angry with him, and this would finally be over. You would finally be safe from him - safe from any nasty fate his life could conjure up for you.

You hated what he was asking of you - asking you not to care for him anymore. As if you could somehow switch it off. Impossible.

“I meant what I said.” You repeated yourself, still entirely firm in this conviction. “I’m not gonna let you go that easily.”

You leaned in, planting your lips on his in a light kiss. A pained sigh ripped through you when he didn’t make any moves to kiss you back.

“Jason, please.” You whimpered out desperately. “If you get to bandage my bullet wound, then I get to do this.”

Jason wanted to spell it all out for you, plain and dirty. He wanted to get angry, he wanted to scream. He wanted to rush along the inevitable. He wanted to tell you what a poison he was to the world, that he deserved to die and you deserved better things. But he had the utmost feeling that you wouldn’t listen.

“Please, stop pushing me away.” You whispered against his lips.

Instead, he listened to your plea. He let himself indulge in this selfish softness for once.

He reached up and grabbed your jaw, pulling you into a firmer kiss, declaring every ounce of passion and terror that he was feeling in those moments. You answered it all right back - digging your fingers into the shoulders of his shirt, letting out a hot huff against his cheek as you leaned into his body.

He would never be perfect - but he was yours.

...

PLEASE NOTE: I do have a sequel in mind for this, but I don't know when I am going to have it finished and posted. Please do not ask me to write more of this or ask me when the sequel will be coming. If you are going to comment, please comment about the body of work here that I have already written.

#sundrop writes #dc titans #titans fanfiction #titans x reader #dc titans fanfiction #jason todd #jason todd x gn!reader #jason todd x gender neutral reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #jason todd imagine #jason todd x reader #jason todd smut

260 notes · View notes

canonmisogynyvictimstournament · 8 months

Text

PRELIMINARY ROUND - DC COMICS

PROPAGANDA

Cassandra Cain

1.) essentially her character premise is that shes more or less an unbeatable martial artist due to the way she was raised. in the comics, she's the second batgirl and had a very popular solo series from 2000-2006. However, essentially DC editorial really didn't like that a teenage chinese girl was a better hand-to-hand fighter than batman, and so mandated that she be turned into a extremely random (also remarkably racist, as she was more or less turned in a 'dragon lady' stereotype) villain, which completely derailed and destabilized her character enough for her to almost entirely disappear from comics for the next decade. this is a far more detailed write up if wanted: https://www.reddit.com/r/HobbyDrama/comments/pdue0e/american_comicsdc_comics_the_saga_of_cassandra/

2.) Following the events of One Year Later, Cass was turned into a homicidal villain who led her own league of assassins and wanted to force Tim Drake into murdering people. This was later retconned as her being drugged, brainwashed, and manipulated by deathstroke.

3.) Literally canonically a better fighter than Batman and probably most of the DC universe. Killed one person once and because of the way she grew up (never taught to speak, learned to communicate by reading body language, in order to make her the ultimate weapon), saw what he experienced as he died and then refused to ever kill again. Had an awesome initial run… And then got hit with "evil mind control" that made her go completely OOC, depopularizing her character so much that a lot of people don't even know she exists.

Barbara Gordon

1.) Was shot as angst value for Bruce and her dad, implied to be sexually assaulted in The Killing Joke with absolutely no respect for her long career as Batgirl. When Alan Moore asked if he could, the editor said "cripple the bitch." She became paralyzed from the waist down. THankfully, an actually good writer picked her up from there and then wrote one of the best stories ever written (Oracle Year One: Born from Hope). Was one of the most iconic disabled characters in comic book history, hell, as Oracle, she was definitely up there as one of the most iconic disabled characters ever as well as a fantastic character, period. There were a few moments where people kept trying to make things out of her disability and had her be shitty to other women for no reason but for the most part, she was awesome. During her time In 2011, Dan Didio and some other misogynistic/ableist comic book writers were responsible for "curing" her disability and forcing her back into Batgirl, despite her having shown absolutely no desire to do so, as part of the New 52. They also made it an editorial mandate that she couldn't have glasses, a cool secret base, and her time as Oracle couldn't be referenced. This was because those writers were nostalgic for the 60s Batman show where Babs was played by an actress they all had the hots for and couldn't accept she'd grown up and moved on. That was bad enough, but over time, she's been increasingly deaged and reduced even further to just Dick Grayson's on and off again girlfriend and a generic girlboss. Batgirl of Burnsides burn in hell.

2.) Famously fridged in 1988, which was so popular with misogynists it became canon. After almost 2 decades of being one of the only disabled characters, was rebooted to a younger, more fun version of herself whose only history is that she was fridged but not disabled by it.

3.) The Killing Joke is one of the biggest comic examples of a female character getting hurt to motivate male characters. Also tbe way different cannons will trade off who her romantic intrest is out of Batfamily is pretty disturbing ranging from Bruce Wayne in Batman the Animated series universe (ew) to Tim Drake in the Arkham games (ew). Not to mention DC now is not letting her grow out of being Batgirl taking away her legacy of other young female heroes taking up her mantle and her getting to mentor them instead forcing her into a Batgirl cycle of purgatory when she was always better as Oracle (Its a little more complicated in the new Batgirl book but its still not solving the issues in a way that feels meaningful enough to make up the damage).

#polls #preliminary round

301 notes · View notes

alfredsolos · 1 year

Text

I see the "Bruce/Batfam finds out that Tim had lost his spleen" fics all the time. Which happened when Bruce was 'dead' and the family was scattered and Tim had went out alone.

What I have never seen is "Bruce/Batfam finds out that Damian lost his whole ass spine when he was shot 5 times point blank by Flamingo. And his mother replaced it with a metal one. And then a zombie Batman ressurects and tries to kill Damian by throwing him off the roof, in which Dick saves him. And then it's revealed that Talia had hidden a secret controller inside the metal spine and gave it to Deathstroke, who then controlled Damian through it to try and kill Dick in a graveyard with a shovel. So to stop Slade's control over Damian's spine, Dick punches Damian multiple times on the stomach with electrical fists, telling Damian that he can take it" fics. Which honestly sounds more entertaining to explain.

I mean when he was shot, only a couple of people knew of it. Dick and Jason were there during the fight with Flamingo. Commisioner Gordon found out later on, along with Alfred. Talia obviously knows. And there is Slade as well. But other than that it's pretty unknown and I don't really remember anyone mentioning it to Bruce. (If there is a panel that shows that Bruce knows, please share it with me. But when I skimmed over the comic I couldn't really find anything.)

Anyways, it just sounds more exciting because during that time everything just kept getting worse and worse for Damian. And unloading all that trauma sounds interesting.

787 notes · View notes

roipecheur · 1 year

Text

Deathstroke thirst trap panels

From the 2016 run where Slade is truly a ✨strong female character✨, by (somewhat) popular demand

Category 1: Cover them up, slut

Category 2: Slade the normal sex haver

Here we have respectively: foreplay is your wife putting you in a chokehold, sleeping with his son’s fiance a week before the wedding, and sleeping with his crazy ex who is lying about her kid being his

Category 3: Walking around ass-out is a normal father-daughter activity

Category 4: Killed people and looked good doing it

Category 5: Got his ass kicked and also looked good doing it (hilariously there are way more of these)

Category 6: Ikon suit hot

Category 7: Classic suit crotch shots (you can tell they wanted to draw the bulge, but the rating wasn’t high enough to make it obvious)

Category 8: I’m calling this one “Miami Vice”

And a few bonuses:

Sleeping with all the grace of a toddler who’s just moved out of a crib

Hellooooo nurse

And last, but absolutely not least, this classic tits & ass coverpose

A true cover girl. I thank these artists for their service

This has been ✨Deathstroke thirst trap panels.✨ Thank you for joining me on this journey and helping me objectify (1) awful horrible old man.

#deathstroke #slade wilson #deathstroke 2016 #deathstroke thirst trap panels #listen the phrase 'deathstroke thirst trap' has been making me laugh to myself for the past week

594 notes · View notes

stupid-sloot-headcanons · 7 months

Text

Jason was tortured by Joker for so long, and I guarantee that Batman's identity wasn't the only thing Joker was able to get him to talk about. Imagine him after months of this: crying, muttering his family's names, begging someone to find him: "Dick", "Barbara", "Alfred", "Bruce". Joker has his guesses as to just who Boy Wonder is talking about, but that would spoil the fun! Besides, once his Arkham Knight gets to run around and take revenge on Batman, he can see if little Jason tries to look for his loved ones. He learned from Jason's ramblings and murmurs/sobs that his parents were both dead, but one name seems...different from the others.

And it's because when Jason first says it, it's almost two months after his torture. All the other names, he started begging for help from after a few weeks. Joker picks up immediately that this is a special thread to pluck.

"____? Ooh, that's a name you haven't wailed yet! Is it an imaginary friend, coming to save you since your Dark Knight Daddy's decided to abandon you? Or is it someone you wish you could see again? Maybe Uncle J can bring them to visit you, as a treat..."

And Jason immediately tries to lie. ____ is...dead, like his parents. But Joker muses that so are Jason's mom and dad, and he never said THEIR names while begging for help. No, this was someone special. "Why, Jason, have you got a sweetheart? Let's have a man-to-man talk about romance. Have you popped the question yet? Do they have a fetish for boys running around at night in flamboyant outfits? If so, maybe I could shoot my shot--after all, they're single now."

As the months dragged on, Joker would prod at Jason from time to time about Darling: pictures of them from afar where they're at work, on their way home, chatting with friends. Ah, young love's a fleeting thing, isn't it? Hey, now that Batman's replaced Jason, maybe ____ will get set up with the new Robin!

But Joker intentionally shows Jason something else later, too: a few old photos from ____'s bedroom, of them with Jason and a few handwritten notes they shared with each other. Guess they haven't moved on after all.

It serves a few purposes to show Jason these: it makes him believe that unlike Batman, ____ still cares about him. It lets Jason know that not only does Joker know where they live, but that he's been inside their bedroom. Maybe Joker even snaps a photo of them sleeping so Jason can have something to attempt to snuggle up to while tied up and forced to sleep suspended from a hook. And Joker knows that once Jason is let loose, he'll obsess over ____ and wind up corrupting whatever loving relationship they once had.

And sadly, it works perfectly. Once Jason escapes Arkham with Deathstroke, he sets up his hideout like a fortress and makes preparations to take Darling to keep them from being hurt or killed by Joker. Unlike Bruce, Jason WILL protect his loved one and he won't fail.

After kidnapping and reuniting with them, Jason can't stop himself from crying and throwing his arms around them that first night. He's only had those photos and scraps of paper for so long, and now they're right here in front of him. And while it still triggers him to be touched, he doesn't care and lets everything out. Over time he adjusts to being touched again by someone not torturing him, and he's so affectionate in private that it's suffocating at times. He almost never lets them leave his quarters but when he does, his men notice that he always has a hand on them--he also will talk less aggressively to them compared to everyone else, and a few men have even spied the Arkham Knight cup their cheek or take their hand gently while talking to them quietly. The instant he notices that he's being watched though, he snaps at them and tells them to quit gawking and get back to work.

He tries to be patient with them, he really does, but he can't let them leave. He knows that they're in danger, and he can't let them get hurt or killed because of him. Even when Joker dies, he refuses to let them go or contact anyone outside; Harley likely knows who they are since she assisted Joker in brainwashing/torturing Jason, Deathstroke helped set up their hideout and Jason knows that money is the only factor keeping Slade an ally. And he knows Slade is the type to use ____ as a bargaining chip if he had to. The other rogues Jason is working with would ALSO go after Darling to get leverage over him, like Scarecrow.

But when Darling keeps insisting that they can't stay like this forever, that their friends and family have no idea if they're even alive or dead, that this isn't the right way to prove your love for someone, he snaps. He KNOWS that! But he can't do anything the right way anymore. He's too broken, too damaged. And Darling is the ONE good thing in his life, and he couldn't bear them dying or worse because of him. He needs to keep them safe. He needs to KEEP them. They can't leave, ever. Once Bruce is dead, then maybe he can set up a secure way they can contact their family. But for now, they need to stay hidden away.

#.dc #.arkhamverse #.jason todd #.red hood #.arkham knight #yandere dc #yandere arkhamverse #yandere jason todd #yandere red hood #yandere arkham knight #.myshit #thots

271 notes · View notes

tenpintsofsundrop · 11 months

Text

Emergency Contact

Jason Todd x Gender Neutral Reader

Leave me something - or let me out. I'm starving. Push me, pull me. Waiting for the start of:

Things that I want, this happily ever after. You choke on your words, but you swallow them faster. Just want you to be my Emergency Contact.

Summary:

After Jason miraculously comes home from his brush with Deathstroke, you're both feeling it in very different ways. You have an unexpected physical wound from the battle, and he has many (very expected) emotional wounds. You help each other heal. Even if it's very stubborn on both your parts.

Jason Todd x GN!Powered!Reader. Enemies/FWB to Lovers. Angst and Hurt/Comfort. (Slight Smut). Set during Season 2, Episode 5.

Word Count: 10,400

Titans Masterlist | AO3 Link

If you want to be notified whenever I post a new fic, make sure to follow my library blog @sundropslibrary and turn on notifications there.

List of detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.

A/N: The title for the fic comes from a song by Pierce the Veil of the same name. It's a newer song, and it's one that I absolutely went to when looking for a title for this fic. The concept of becoming someone's emergency contact is about upgrading the relationship from casual to much more serious, and just the whole song, and specific lyrics in it suit this fic so well. I highly recommend listening to it paired with this fic.

This was based on a request from my old blog, but obvi I don't have that ask anymore - the request was about Jason getting shot and having his wound attended to by the reader, but I changed it to the reader getting shot cause I thought that was more interesting and less common. If the person who made that request sees this and finds my new blog, I hope you enjoy it! And in general, I hope everyone who reads this enjoys it.