#jason todd huge W for once in his suffering life

[sophiethewitch1]

In Death's Embrace Pt. 2

Jason Todd x Death!Reader

Part one!

Jason shoots up in bed, his hand stretched out. He’s sweating, drenched in his own panic in fear. His hand falls into his lap, still twitching. He doesn’t remember what he was dreaming about, doesn’t remember what he was trying to grasp.

He knows he failed. He knows it slipped through his fingers like sand. He doesn’t think there’s anything more tragic in the world. He doesn't know why.

“Once again, you amaze me. Breaking the rules of the universe, not once, but twice.”

His hand is wrapped around his gun before you even finish the sentence. It’s pointed between your eyes once you do. To your credit, whoever just broke into his apartment without triggering any of his alarms, you don’t even flinch. No, you just fold your hands behind your back and give him an odd look.

You tilt your head, eyes moving over the scars on his face and catching on the lock of white hair he sports. Then, your face breaks into a smile, and something in Jason’s heart jumps. There’s a knowing in your eyes that he doesn’t like. An understanding.

You see through him, somehow. He doesn’t like it. He’ll shoot you for the offence.

“Who are you? How did you get in here?” Jason demands, assessing you like you assess him. You don’t look like a combatant, in long dark flowing fabrics. Still, he knows not to underestimate someone based on their appearance.

That damned clown never looked like a threat. And now he was standing here, with someone who seemed just as crazy in his bedroom. Only someone that crazy would break into his home.

“Are you going to shoot me?” your words are teasing, eyes fond. Maybe you’re crazier, then. You don’t believe he’ll do it. He will.

He should have already. It’s base curiosity that holds his trigger finger. That’s what he thinks it is, at least.

“I might,” he finally says, “Again, who the fuck are you?”

“It’s interesting talking to you like this. You knew who I was straight away last time, but this time you turn your weapon to me,” you continue, ignoring his threat. A muscle jumps in his cheek, annoyed at your presence, at your blatant disregard for him.

“Last time?”

Your smile turns into a bright grin. He’s momentarily stunned by it.

“So, you really haven’t won just yet. That gives me a small measure of pride,” you say, walking over to the window with your hands still behind your back, “Maybe enough to spare you from my anger.”

You look over at him again. Purse your lips.

“Maybe not.”

“I think you forget who is holding the gun,” Jason reminds you, clicking his teeth at the way you just shrug.

You go quiet. No more teasing words or ominous warnings. Jason should shoot, shoot now. He’d hate the cleanup, hate the mess, hate all the effort, but it was necessary. You were dangerous. That much was obvious.

Instead, he opens his big dumb mouth and asks, “What do you want?”

You sigh, shaking your head. “Is it terrible I don’t know? Rules are rules after all, but this situation is… complicated. You’re not another Sisyphus, you don’t even want to be here.”

“You broke into my home and started threatening me. That doesn’t sound complicated,” Jason insists. This is such a fucking weird conversation. And Sisyphus? Jason had done his homework, he knew about the mythical man who cheated death. He thinks he’s actually quite a lot like Sisyphus.

He still doesn’t appreciate the comparison.

“Yes well, I don’t want to be here either, de-” your voice cuts off, eyes widen in surprise, and then narrow on him like he caused some great offence. Inside him, he feels his dead little heart wither even further at the sight. Like you being upset with him was one of the worst mistakes of his life.

Once again, you broke into his house. All he’d done was tell you to get lost. Oh, and maybe threaten to shoot you, but who cares about that. He soothes the momentary panic, insisting you obviously hadn’t.

Which is dumb. He’s being an idiot. Jason Todd is being an absolute moron right now, and he just needs to shoot you.

Instead of paying attention to the gun trained on you, you stare out his window, at the streets of Gotham’s Hill district below. The sun is rising, rays bursting through the fog. The people are just getting up with it. It’s one of the few times the city is anything close to quiet. Most are still sleeping, and so is crime.

Warm sunlight catches on your cheek, and again, something inside Jason cries out at the sight. It’s worrying.

“I think I want you dead, again,” you confess.

Jason’s breath whooshes out of his lips, and his gun arm twitches for a second. Well, fuck him, that’s certainly a statement. And again, why hadn’t he shot you?

He still doesn’t do it. He must be crazy, too.

“I’m being greedy. I always have been, of course. It’s what I am… But especially this time, I think I’m being too greedy,” you sound sad, your fingers trailing across the wooden window frame, “I think I shouldn’t be here, but it’s the ones like you who make it hard.”

You rub dust against your fingers, and Jason feels embarrassed for the state of his home. He realises a second later what a stupid thought that is, you broke in. He wonders how many times he’ll have to repeat it to remember it. He feels uncomfortable and off-kilter, and he knows it’s because of you.

He needs to get you out.

“I’ve always hated the special ones, you know. The smart ones. You’re too good at pulling me, manipulating me, tugging on my strings like a puppet. You make me human,” you turn back to him, crossing your arms and resting against the sill. You’re comfortable in his home, more so than he usually is. Calm, relaxed, like the world is at peace, and worries are something of the past.

He wonders what that must be like. Fucking delightful, he bets.

“Are you not human?”

You raise an eyebrow in response.

Shit. Ah, fuck it. His finger tightens, and the recoil jerks his arm. The silencer keeps the early apartment quiet. Quiet, if not for the sound of the bullet clattering to the ground.

You both glance down at the crumpled piece of metal sitting pathetically on the floor. You lean over, pick the piece up, and then lift it to your eye, watching that same sunlight reflecting the early morning in the steel. A small rainbow flitters across your skin. You close your fist, and you stroll over to Jason.

It takes him a moment to remember to be wary of you, and by that time, you already have his hand cradled between yours.

You place the remnants of the bullet in his scarred palm.

“I expect an apology for that later,” your voice is soft, sweet. Loving, even after he shot you in the chest. Not like it did anything. Your fingers curl around his, tracing every crack and crevice. You do it with concentration, with precision, like you were made just to touch him, to comfort him.

A memory, gone in a flash. He feels it’s loss like a toothache.

He swallows, “I’m sorry.”

You laugh, and the sun’s not outside, it’s in his bedroom and it’s smiling and it’s everything and it’s here in his grasp and he knows it’ll be okay again. It has to be okay again. You said it’d be okay, didn’t you? He can’t remember. His head’s swirling, spinning, falling right into you. Right back into you.

“Or now, that’s fine too,” you sound delighted. He’s glad.

You let go of him, and move back to the window, drawn by the view outside. Jason's hand clasp and unclasp. The street obviously fascinates you, your eyes flicking back and forth and tracking the movement of every soul outside. He wants your gaze back on him.

Jason clears his throat. You glance back at him, then pointedly, his right hand.

He can feel his face flush, embarrassingly. He’s still holding the gun. He turns the safety off and tucks it back under his pillow.

He clears his throat again. He wants something from you, expects it, really. But he can’t tell what it is. He thinks you know, though. That you’re withholding it, for some reason. He’s irrationally irritated at that. You said you were greedy, but nothing could compare to his greed.

Even if you wanted him dead. He was starting to put together the pieces, but he couldn’t seem to feel alarmed. No, it simply wasn’t necessary, with you here.

Still, it’s not quite enough. He wants more. He wants to know more. So he waits for you to speak again.

“I’ve thought about doing this so many times over the years. It would’ve been selfish, and more than that, outside of my duty. You’re not one of mine anymore. For a little while, at least.”

He wants to be. He wants to be yours. He wants it more than he can breathe. If he’s yours, maybe you can be his.

You glance to the side, thinking out loud, “But then you went and started remembering. I’ve worked very hard to make sure that’s impossible, you know. That the memories from my realm stay there.”

You turn a disapproving glance his way.

“Of course, far be it for me to get in the way of a Wayne and his decision to break the world. You lot do that far too much, give me too much work,” you mutter that last part, hand moving to your brow. Like you’re massaging away a headache. He should be doing that for you.

“But you did it. And you’re here. And now I am, too. And I have to go soon.”

You drift closer to him, and Jason’s breath catches. He’s still. He doesn’t make a single movement, scared he’ll scare you away. He realises that’s stupid. That you caught a bullet to the chest. That you’re stronger than anything he could imagine.

He still thinks he could startle you if he’s not careful. That you’re like the mist outside, incorporeal. But Jason can do anything if he puts his mind to it. He knows how to catch the wind, how to gather steam on the underside of glass, how to cup sand and water and feathers and everything that would ever want to be outside of his reach.

You’re out of his reach. He has to let you step into it.

You stop a foot away from him. He grinds his teeth, and again, you raise a brow at him. He doesn’t move, despite his muscles screaming at him too. You give him a nod and take another step closer. He still doesn’t move, and you give him a satisfied look.

“So, what should we do, Jason?”

“How do you know my name?”

“What? Did dying strip you of any brains?”

The banter is familiar. He doesn’t mean to ruin it.

“Do you have to leave?” again, a voice in his mind whispers. You look sad, again. Again, again, again. All of this is an again.

“Eventually. Sooner rather than later,” you sigh, “You can keep a secret, can’t you, Jason?”

“Not if you leave.”

It’s a bold move. You take a step back, and he winces. Back and forth, back and forth… Still, he doesn’t take the words back. He can’t, because it’s the truth, and now that you’re here, there’s no going back. He’ll do anything to keep you with him, and if you go too far for him to reach, he’ll follow you.

“I think that’s an unfair request,” you say, and he shakes his head.

“It’s fair. You don’t have to stay forever, just a while.” Now that, that is a lie. You seem to know it, too.

You look out the window again. Jason, after a moment's hesitation, moves over beside you. You don’t flee, your attention is on the people below. He opens the window for you, and you give him another smile. He collects them like the rare treasures they are. You lean out into the air, and he freaks, then realises you’d shrugged off a bullet. He stays close, vigilant, anyway.

“I’m curious, I have to admit. What’s this place like?” you ask, resting elbows on the wood. The streets are foggy, as they usually are in the morning. The Hill isn’t the nicest place, not the cleanest either, but you look at it like it’s heaven incarnate. He can see his neighbour down at the local grocer, the old woman who hoards cats seeing her grandson off to school, and one of his guys hanging out on the street, keeping the space safe.

Under his orders. The Hill wasn’t the nicest place, but he liked to keep it as nice as possible.

...Peaceful, he wanted the people here to have their peace. He was obsessed with it, really.

“It sucks.”

You laugh again, music to his ears, “Not the best advertising.”

“I take it back, it’s the best place on earth,” he replies, barely paying attention to his words. He’s seeing how close he can get to you. How many inches he can claim. His face is almost in your neck by the time you lean back, and he curses under his breath.

“It doesn’t need to be,” you say, pushing away from the sill and turning to wander around his room. You take in everything about the space. From the general mess, to the Jane Austen books crammed into his bookshelf, to the mask he’s left half-hazard on his bedstand.

You watch it all, just as fascinated with the world outside as the one inside. He wants to believe that means he’s special to you. And if it doesn’t, that just means he needs to work a little harder.

Finally, you turn to him. You take in every facet of him, once again. Your all-knowing gaze finds his hair again. You seem especially fascinated by that. You lift your hands, and he’s in them before he realises he’s moved.

You map his features with your hands, and he makes a little sound in the back of his throat. Ignoring that, you wipe the bags under his eyes. He feels his sanity slip away under your touch. You trace the scar on his chin, the one above his left brow. The stubble along his jaw. The bump in his nose. The edge of his lips. He wonders at the smirk you give when he groans. And finally, you come to that strand of hair.

You tug on it. A memory fizzles again, and to his frustration, he can’t quite grab it. Can’t quite take it, claim it. It’s not his, not yet.

You haven’t given him permission to remember. He wants it, he wants it, he needs it.

“I think I can stay, maybe. Just for a little, just a little. You want that, right?” your hands cup his face, and he knows, somehow, that you’ve done this a thousand times. And if this is the thousand-and-first time you’ve held him like this, he’s glad. To be back in your embrace is the sweetest pleasure. The greatest relief.

“Yes. Yes, yes… yes, I do,” he’s nodding, he’s begging, he’s pleading with you. Just for a moment more, just a second more. Just a little bit more, before you let him go again. He leans down and presses his forehead to you, sighing in your scent, the wheat reeds in the wind, the warm sun on skin.

He wonders what he has to do to make sure you never let go again. He wonders if you’ll let him do it.

You shake your head, giving him a rueful smile, “You really are too cute, darling.”

That nickname. The key to his heart, his mind. Every single barrier keeping him from you is gone, crumbled by your will. He is thankful you’ve given them back. He is thankful for every moment you ever had with him. And he’ll make a thousand more.

He presses his lips to yours, arms holding you close. When you melt into him, sigh into the kiss, he feels a euphoria he didn’t know could be true. He feels a relief he didn’t know even in his days under, even when you only held him.

He feels alive with it.

“Thank you for coming back,” he whispers against you, and he can feel that familiar, that damning smile spread.

“You left me. I had to hunt you down myself, Jason dear.”

Maybe he couldn’t have his peaceful death. But he had a loving one, and that was all he needed.

[catxsnow]

CHALLENGE G.L.

REQUEST: could i pls request some gar logan x reader fluff where gar has a huge crush on the reader who's very self assured and confident and he keeps his feelings to himself because he doesn't think he's enough for her. then one day she corners him and asks why he's been so distant and he confesses his feelings and it all becomes a big fluffy mess. bonus if the reader was subtly flirting the whole time and gar was oblivious.

Warning: fluff, Gar being sad a little

A/N: First Gar fic! I hope you all enjoy! 💕

Part two

Word Count: 2.7k

Being a part of the Titans was everything you could dream of and more. For once in your life you finally felt like you belonged somewhere. Your teammates, your friends - they were more than that - they were your family. No matter how much they fought, you knew that you would always be there for each other.

Much like Dick and Jason, you were only human. On a team filled with people of extraordinary powers and abilities, you should have been the kind of person that felt intimidated. However, being without powers and still deserving a place on this team made you maybe a little too confident.

You were cocky when it came to showing off why you deserved to be there just like everyone else. That attitude rubbed off on you when you weren't training or in the field too. Even just lounging around the tower you oozed confidence. A lot of times in your life, you found that girls would be envious of you and boys would be intimidated by you.

You became a challenge.

Even within the safe walls of the tower you were still within danger of being the prey. Jason Todd relentlessly tried to win you over. He adored your skills, your beauty, the incredible intelligence you maintained all while keeping a humorous mentality. You were the definition of perfect to many.

And you knew it too. It was rare to ever see you put yourself above others, but you were well aware the affect you had on people. After years of being put on an unwanted pedestal of perfection, you knew that people desired you. It was what made you so confident in yourself. Thankfully, you knew well enough to keep yourself humble. Mostly.

Jason continuously tried to flirt his way into your life. Though you enjoyed the playful banter between the two of you, he wasn't the person that you were interested in.

You and Gar were best friends. The second that you two met it was an instant connection - he brought out a side of you that had been tucked away for so long. Around him you could be your playful, care-free self. You didn’t have to worry about maintaining the facade that people expected from you. He was like a breath of fresh air every time you were with him. It was nice to finally have someone befriend you for more than just your beauty and skills.

"Come on, Gar! You can do better than that."

Training day was always your favourite day. It was the only time that you felt like you could truly let off some steam. Kicking ass against some bad guys always did you good too, but you always had to restrain yourself to some degree. Training allowed you to go all out and gave you the time to improve your skills.

At the moment, it was you and Gar sparring in the ring. Once the dummy you were using had been beaten down multiple times, you needed a live, moving opponent. Gar was the nearest person you could find who wasn't busy. Most of the time, it was Jason you sparred with - he had a similar set of skills to you.

"You know my hand to hand skills are no where near as good as yours," Gar complained. He laid flat on the mat with a bruised ego as you stood above him. As much as he had been learning from you and Dick, he didn't even compare. He had powers, he didn't need to be as reliant as you with pure skill alone.

"Then don't use them," you stuck your hand out to help him up. "Let out the beast, I can handle it." Gar immediately shook his head, he didn't want to hurt you - being the tiger could do some serious damage against you. Being human meant you healed like a human, he wouldn't forgive himself if something happened.

"(Y/N), we talked about this," Gar argued. He ducked, narrowly missing your left hook. The two of you circled each other on the mat. You were in your usual training attire - shorts and a sports bra. It also happened to be Gar's favourite outfit on you, and the most distracting. "I'm not going to fight you like that."

"Yes, you are," you confidently told him. Gar tried to make the first attack this time. He lunged towards you and jabbed his fist towards your face but you had seen it coming. You grabbed onto his arm and twisted it behind his back. His knees buckled as you kicked the back of them and your arm wrapped around his neck. "I'll even say please."

Gar shivered as your breath fanned against his neck. Over the time that the two of you spent in the tower, he realized that his feelings for you were a little more than friendly. Just like any other man you came to encounter, he had fallen for you alluring spell. It broke his heart to know that he never stood a chance to win you over. Not when there were people like Jason out there.

"No."

"Gar."

"I don't want to hurt you!" He broke out of your hold and turned to face you. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt you. Every time you came back from some sort of mission with cuts and bruises, he wanted nothing more than to take that pain away from you. You were far too precious to have to go through any pain.

"You won't. I can handle myself," you assured him. "Besides, I always enjoy the view when you switch back to yourself," You winked at him. Gar's face flared up red with embarrassment - He hated not having his clothes after he used his powers. You on the other hand, always liked getting glimpses of him.

"I'm definitely not doing it now," Gar muttered, still blushing. Your grinned at him being so flustered by your compliment. You reached up to pat his cheek, but it had only made his redness worse. 

"Fine, I guess I'll go find Jason or Dick to spar with," you dragged out your words, hoping that he would get the hint that you wanted to train with him, not either of them. He didn't, of course. As always, unless you were being direct he never picked up on your desire to hang out with him. At the mention of Jason's name, he had already given up.

Gar hid the hurt look on his face as you offered to train with someone else. It seemed to be good timing too, Jason had just been walking by when he saw the two of you and decided to pop in to see how things were going. "Look at that, once again just impeccable timing," Gar had a noticeable tone of frustration in his voice.

He left the training room without another word, unable to see the sad look on your face as he left. Jason on the other hand, looked thrilled to get to train with you again. It was Gar that you wanted to spend time with, not him. It was always Gar that you wanted to see, he was the most important person in your life.

"Gar!" You called after him. He either didn't hear you or decided to ignore you. Either way, you frowned at his departure.

His smile would light up any bad day you were having. No matter how bad his jokes were, they always seemed to put a smile on your face. You even suffered through him playing his video games just to see him excited over a win. And when he asked you to play against him, of course you couldn't deny it.

"You ready, princess?"

"Call me that again and you won't get back off the ground."

><

Gar had been avoiding you.

At first, it was subtle. He would be late enough to dinner that his usual spot beside you was taken. He then started to choose someone else to spar with during training. That you weren't surprised about, after the last time you figured that he would go with Dick instead of you for the next few times.

If you were in the living room, he would stay in his room. If you ever went to go visit him there, he would claim he was just about to jump in the shower and he would catch you later. By that point, you were far past suspicious of his behavior.

Gar was your best friend, and without him your days were lonely. It had only been a few weeks since he started ignoring you, but you missed him. The short time apart realized how much you truly cared for him. You knew that these feelings you had for him had been there for quite a while, but you never realized how strong they were.

You wished that Gar was more than a friend towards you. With him ignoring you, it was easy to assume that he didn't feel the same way. You whole life was spent with boys chasing you, and when the one you cared about most wasn't, well it was a shock to you. Gar was the only person you wanted to looking at you with admiration and now he couldn't even look you in the eye.

After giving him his space for a few weeks, you decided enough was enough. Gar was your best friend and he sure as hell wasn't acting like it. Whatever was going on with him, you needed to know. The only way that you could help him get through whatever he was going through was to know everything.

So, when you saw him sneaking into the kitchen for a late night snack, you cornered him. Gar was peaking in the fridge as you stood behind the door. There was no way that he was going to avoid you this time. The second that he closed the door and saw your figure standing there, he got so frightened his eyes turned bright green.

"(Y/N)!" Gar shouted, nearly dropping the jug of milk he had grabbed. His hand was over his chest after the surprise and his eyes wide. "What, uh, what're you doing here?"

"You've been avoiding me, Garfield," you got right to the point. A nervous smile covered his cheeks "And don't try lying to me that you haven't, I know you better than that. You're my best friend, Gar. I'm worried about you, what's going on?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Gar stated. He turned away from you to continue making his midnight snack of what you assumed was going to be cereal. It was always his go to - you knew that. However, his hesitance to tell you how he was feeling was what made you nervous. He was never like this, not towards you.

As soon as he tried to pass you, you snatched the bowl of cereal out of his hand and stood before him. There was no way he was getting out of it this time. Not with the way that he was acting.

"(Y/N)," Gar whined. You gave him a look that insinuated that you weren't about to give up. He tried to grab the bowl from your hands but you were too quick for him to even get near it. That didn't stop him from trying. Gar tried to out-wit you, but had only failed. "Give it back, I'm hungry."

"No," you affirmed. "The only way that you're getting this bowl is if you fight me, or if you tell me what the fuck is going on with you." Gar tilted his head down, he didn't like either of those options. However, he knew he'd rather get his ass kicked by you, then to ruin the friendship that he had.

When Garfield tilted his head back up, his eyes were green and his skin was tinged the same color too. He was willing to beast out if that meant that he didn't have to confess his feelings to you. His action hurt you more than you ever thought they could. Gar wasn't a violent person, and for him to do this, it really meant he didn't trust you.

Gar went back to his normal self when you didn't budge from your spot. He was even more surprised when he noticed how glassy your eyes looked and the tremble in your hands while holding his bowl. Gar didn't hesitate to throw his arms around you in hopes to comfort you from his actions.

"I'm sorry," He whispered. The grip he had on you caused your shirt to scrunch up in his hand. You set the bowl on the counter beside you and wrapped your arms around him as well.

"No," you shook your head at his apology. He had done nothing wrong, this was your fault. "If you don't want to talk about your feelings then I shouldn't force you to do so. Just... if I'm doing something wrong, or you're upset with me for something just tell me. I can't sleep at night thinking your avoiding me because you hate me now."

You gave Gar one more squeeze before walking away from him. It wasn't fair of you to try and force him to talk about something that he wasn't comfortable with. You should have known better. It was just always so easy to talk to him, you always thought that he felt the same ease with you.

Your breathing trembled as you walked down the empty hall to your room. Maybe the friendship you had with Gar wasn't what you thought it was.

A hand latching onto yours nearly made you jump. Gar had stopped you. He tugged you back towards him, and if it wasn't for his hold you would have fallen flat on the ground. Gar held you up against him with his hands resting on your waist. Your hands were delicately rested in his chest.

"(Y/N), I..." Gar stuttered over his words. He was hesitant to tell you his feelings, but he needed you to know that he didn't hate you, not at all. The closeness of you made him nervous, he could see every little detail of your face, each one of them perfect in their own ways. "I..." he tried once more.

You couldn't take this anymore. You couldn't take teetering around him and your feelings towards him. Endless flirting that he never seemed to pick up on or the fact that you got flustered every time you messed up and he was around. This battle you were having with yourself about whether or not Gar's feelings for you were more than friendly needed to end.

Your hands slid up his chest until they rested on the side of his face. The warmth of his skin drew you in more, like you craved his touch. Gar let out a gasp as you pressed your lips against his. He stood still, surprised by your actions. There was no way that the girl of his dreams was kissing him.

Gar snapped out of his shock. His grip lowered to your hips and he finally started to kiss you back. Everything about this was perfect. The taste of your lips, the softness of your skin. He was completely blinded by you and your perfection.

You pulled away, completely out of breath but a smile on your lips. The linger of his touch resided on you and you wished for it never to go away. "I'm sorry," You whispered. "I shouldn't have... I couldn't go any longer without doing that," you changed your sentence.

"I'm glad you did," Gar grinned. You loved his smile, you always had. It seemed to be the only thing that would make you happy when you were feeling down. "Truth be told, I was avoiding you because I didn't know how much longer I could go without doing that too."

Gar kissed you again. The softness of his lips made you want to have them constantly on you. You wanted his kiss, his hold, you wanted him to love you. The happiness that filled your heart something that you hadn't felt in so long. He was your happiness, he had been since the day  you met.

"Guess we better make up for lost time then."

Part two