#jason todd imagine
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
dollscircus · 3 days ago
Text
You’re pregnant with Jason’s kid and you just dropped a fork while eating dinner at the Wayne manor. You’re too big to reach it.
You’ve been watching Jason and Dick bickering over who will get it for you.
“I’m her husband-“
“and I’m trying to be the best brother in law!”
You’re hungry, and so tried. Your feet are swollen and you just want to eat-
Damien picks up the fork and offers it out wordlessly. You smile and take it back.
“You’re my favourite.” You say.
“I know.” He says back.
413 notes · View notes
gay-dorito-dust · 2 days ago
Text
Jason: *sees you looking at him* what.
You: how tall are you?
Jason: is this some weird kink of yours?
You: just tell me how tall you are.
Jason: fine, the last time I checked I’m about six foot something.
You: is that with or without the boots?
Jason: *practically towering over you* why would your opinion drastically change if they were the case sweetheart? Would you be upset if my height didn’t live up to the fantasy within that pretty little head of yours?
You: *internally* he’s tall, like really tall, like super sexy tall that makes me wanna climb this man like a tree. No man in Gotham has made being tall as sexy as him! Big man who had big thighs that could crush my head like a watermelon.
Jason: *waves a hand in front of your face* hello? Sweetheart?
You: *smiling dumbly at him and blinking slowly*
Jason: fuck I broke them.
1K notes · View notes
crazydeershark · 3 days ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Jason Todd who loves so hard he breaks.
He yearns for your love like it’s what keeps him breathing. He craves your touch, your smile, the faint smell of your perfume on his clothes after one of those big hugs you give him. He can’t get enough of you.
Jason Todd whose physical wounds haven’t been painful for a long time now. Or maybe he’s gotten too used to them. But when he listens to you ramble about how much danger he gets in while you’re cleaning his patrol wounds, something inside of him snaps. He crumbles when he sees the little tears forming in the corners of your eyes.
He’s never had anyone care about him so deeply. He’s sure he doesn’t deserve you. You and your kind, sweet words. He swears he doesn’t need them.
He’s strong enough. He doesn’t need to be babied or treated as if he’s a fragile piece of glass, that’s ready to snap anytime.
But then again, you make him feel comfort, which, perhaps, doesn’t feel so bad. You make him feel like home, and he hasn’t felt that in a very long time.
Jason Todd’s tense muscles and eyes soften when he sees you baking the cookies he mentioned he liked once.
To Gotham’s streets, he’s ruthless, powerful, cruel.
But to you, he’s the most gentle and tender man you’ve ever met.
He lets you rest your head on his shoulder after a long day, lets you rant about the annoying people at work.
He can’t help but stare at you with those dark green eyes of his when you talk about something you find enjoyment in. Your whole face lights up, and he swears you’re too innocent, too delicate for this world.
Jason Todd who makes it his job to protect you. From everything. You’re his, his to long for. And he loves every single part of it.
683 notes · View notes
sk4rlette8008 · 2 days ago
Text
i’m speechless 👨‍🍳💋💗
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
jason todd x reader
warnings — mentions of size/body image, jason being insecure… and also sexy. also this is unedited as per usual. other than that, nothing!
a/n; im gonna bite his bicep like that’s all i have to say. enjoy <3
Tumblr media
JASON TODD is huge.
the man is over 6 feet of pure muscle so it doesn’t matter how tall you are, he’s bigger than you and he’s very aware of it.
when he’s red hood, being so large is a tactical advantage. he feels strong and in charge and practically unbeatable.
when he’s jason, he feels uncomfortable and noticeable and that’s the last thing he wants or needs. he doesn’t stop working out, because not only does he need something physical to relieve his stress, but he also can’t afford not being jacked as fuck. how the hell else is he supposed to be as scary as he is as red hood.
instead, he overcompensates by wearing darker colours, slightly oversized hoodies, not always standing up at his full height. it doesn’t do that much, the sheer size of him is a little hard to fully hide, but it makes him feel a little better.
when you come into the picture, things slowly start to change.
every time he hugs you, it’s instantly a mood booster for you because of how safe it feels with his arms wrapped around you, shielding you from the world for a few minutes. the way you sigh and melt into the hug has him smiling, a little shyly, as he holds you closer.
whenever you need him to get you something off a high shelf, he happily obliges and loves feeling useful. more than that, he loves how you always thank him by gently running a hand down his chest. “what would i do without you?” you say, sincerely, because you know he needs to hear it sometimes. and when you drop a kiss to his forearm as he sets the object down, he’s suddenly glad that he’s taller than you and he starts standing a little straighter.
the first time you hold up his hand against yours to compare sizes, you find yourself grinning at the difference. jason finds himself thinking about how small your hand is instead of how large his own is. and when you interlock your fingers with his, that’s all he’s focusing on.
sometimes, when your eyes are locked on your phone as you’re walking the busy streets of gotham and letting jason guide you around with your hand in his, he’s having to grab your waist to stop you bumping into someone or something. “careful,” he mutters, but his mind has gone blank and all he’s thinking about is his large hands around your waist and his pulse is racing. he feels like a creep until you turn around to give him a sheepish smile and thank him, placing your hands on his to keep them around your waist. he doesn’t miss the way you’re glancing down and biting your lip.
with jason around, you never have to do any heavy lifting, but of course you’re going to try sometimes. when you buy a cute new coffee table and it arrives when he’s out on patrol, you physically can’t wait to open and buid it. that bit is easy enough, but you find yourself cursing when you realise you stupidly built it on the other side of the room. “uhm, what do you think you’re doing?” jason asks, leaning in the doorway, red hood helmet in between his arm. you’re breathing heavily, arms pinned awkwardly at your sides as you were trying a new approach of throwing your body weight against the table to shift it. you slump, looking up at him with a pout.
“it’s heavier than i thought,” you admit. jason crosses the living room in two giant strides.
“you’re gonna hurt yourself,” he says, lifting the entire thing with both hands on either side and effortlessly placing it in front of the couch. he looks at you for approval in case you want it elsewhere and finds that you’re staring at him, slack jawed. he frowns, crossing his arms over, vigilante suit still on. “what…?”
“that was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” you say, shamelessly. he grins, shaking his head at the way you’re completely serious, but the blush on his cheeks gives him away. “no, seriously, you need to run before i pounce on you.”
his favourite thing is your habit of falling asleep on him when you’re watching tv and he often needs to pick you up to take you to bed. sometimes, you start to stir, halfway to the bedroom and you sleepily blink up at him before wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing a kiss to his jaw. “you’re so strong,” you mumble against his shoulder, your voice soft with drowsiness. jason’s heart clenches.
jason starts standing at his full height just so he can see you craning your neck to look at him, giving him the excuse to lift you up onto the counter which often results in you wrapping your legs around his waist and engaging a make out session.
he starts to wear t-shirts instead of large hoodies when he goes to the gym, just so he can hear you wolf whistle as he walks to the door, running over to kiss him goodbye and giving his biceps a squeeze.
day by day, jason finds himself more comfortable with just being him. and he’s even happier than he gets to be himself with you.
Tumblr media
a/n cont.; the red hood mask stays ON during sex
4K notes · View notes
ebodebo · 3 days ago
Text
Friends Who Kiss!
with Jason Todd.
...it's okay to kiss a friend. right?
Tumblr media
You catch a whiff of cheap beer and weed from a mile away, even before stepping into the party.
The scent hit you like a wall as the door swung open, revealing a crowd of crossfaded college students behind a plastered guy who could barely hold it together.
“Yo! Who brought the strippers?” He shouts, slurring his words, clearly trying to joke about you and your friend.
“Knock it off, dipshit,” your friend shoots back, rolling her eyes as she shoves him aside and reaches for your hand, pulling you inside behind her.
It felt oddly surreal.
You had been to countless college parties at both sororities and fraternities, yet nothing could quite prepare you for the atmosphere of this place.
To your left, a couple was grinding, nearing dry-humping, against each other on the tattered couch.
To your right, a group of friends were passing around a blunt, all while downing shots of vodka.
And ahead of you and your friend, a raucous game of strip beer pong was in full swing. 
The two guys, their competitive spirits high, were down to their boxers while the girls remained fully clothed.
Who knew that most college guys, the self-proclaimed beer pong champions, were so ass at the game?
As you approached the kitchen, the smell of stale beer and sweat hit you. "You want a drink?" Your friend chimes, her voice barely audible over the thumping bass.
Her hand was already reaching for two plastic cups and a bottle of straight Jägermeister.
"Getting straight to it, huh?" You reply, grinning as she pours a heaping shot for herself.
"Gonna need the alcohol to deal with these fucking moron guys," she laughs, automatically pouring a shot for you too.
"You know I have an eight a.m. tomorrow?" You raise an eyebrow as she slides the liquor your way.
With a smile, she takes hold of her plastic cup. "All the more reason for you to drink," she replies, her lips brushing the rim.
"You're a bad girl," you tease, a playful spark in your eye as you quickly grab the cup and bring it to your lips.
"The baddest," she purrs, and you both down the shot in unison.
The tangy citrus liquor burns as it goes down, leaving a fiery trail in its wake.
"Tastes like shit," you hiss, wiping your lips with the back of your hand as the intense aroma lingers on your tongue.
"All the booze that gets you fucked up tastes like shit," she corrects, picking up a left-out slice of lime and sucking the juice from it.
"Here," she offers you a fresh lime wedge.
You bite into the wedge, the juice washing away the harsh taste of the potent liqueur.
"Let’s pour another," your friend suggests, already reaching for the bottle of Fireball on the counter.
You roll your eyes but didn’t turn down the offer.
After all, you had been pretty good these last couple of months, only enjoying the occasional glass of wine.
As she fills the plastic cups with whiskey, the remnants of Jägermeister mingling with the liqueur, you notice some commotion by the entrance.
Your gaze drifted over to the front door, curious about the sudden influx of people that seemed to materialize out of nowhere.
"I knew you’d show up!" A guy shouted excitedly.
"Dude, you've got to try this new stuff I brought back from Ibiza!" Another one yelled.
"What’s all the fuss about over there?" Your friend remarks, Fireball dripping from her lip down to her chin in her usual carefree style.
You side-eye her, glancing at her now empty cup.
"Sorry! It was just calling to me," she says, raising her hands in mock surrender.
"It’s a liquid," you reply dryly, adding to the playful banter.
"It was!" She insists with a grin.
You roll your eyes at her playful antics and turn your attention back to the commotion, where an apparent celebrity has caught everyone’s attention.
To your surprise, it was Jason, someone you recognized well, making his way through the crowd.
Guys were clapping him on the shoulder, and girls were gazing at him as he passed by.
A truly ridiculous sight.
When his eyes locked onto yours, he veered off course and headed straight towards you and your friend.
You shook off your disbelief and chuckled as he approached.
"Ladies," he greets with a smile.
"Hi, Jason," your friend timidly greets.
"Blondie," he tips his head towards her.
"Big man on campus, huh?" You tease, a playful glint in your eye. 
He shrugs, rolling his eyes. "You know how they are."
"Thought you'd be in Gotham tonight?" You cut in before he can greet you separately, a hint of curiosity in your voice.
"Eh. Plans changed," he remarks, a sly smirk on his lips.
You pick up the plastic cup with Fireball, placing the rim on your lips. "Have they?"
"Yeah," his eyes wander to your cup. "You gonna drink that?"
"I was planning to—" You begin before Jason takes the cup and downs it in one gulp.
"Sorry. Was a little thirsty," he suspires, wiping the alcohol from his lips.
Your eyes narrow. "Yeah. I'd say so."
"Well...I'm gonna leave you too," your friend beside you says. "Nice to see you, Jason," she beams.
"Likewise," he winks at her as she walks away, almost hitting the wall. "She's cute," he remarks.
"What were your plans before you detoured here?" You ask, eyebrow raised, paying no mind to his previous comment.
"That's classified, Sweetheart," he says, his voice a mix of authority and warmth.
"Oh, right," you nod along, moving closer to him. "I almost forgot you habitually swing around Gotham at night."
"Hey, hey!" He mutters, ushering you to a nearby empty hallway. "What the hell is up with you?" Concern laces his tone.
"You totally flaked on me yesterday," you mutter, annoyance in your tone. "Had to go eat dinner with my mom alone."
"What do you—oh shit," he sighs, realization dawning on him. "That was yesterday?"
You nod. "Yeah, and you ditched me."
He runs a hand over his face, a mix of frustration and regret evident in his expression. "I'm—fuck. I'm really sorry."
There is sincerity in his tone, but you’re not ready to let him off that easily.
You wanted to bust his balls a little.
"I'm still mad at you," you say, turning your head away from him and crossing your arms.
He lets out a breathy laugh at your display. "Is that how it's gonna be?" He remarks, his voice low.
"Seems so," you reply matter-of-factly.
"That's a shame," he mutters gruffly.
You glance at him, arms still crossed. "Why's that?"
"Well…I just. Nah. Never mind," he says, raising his hands as if to shoo away the question.
You turn to face him fully. "Now you have to tell me!" You exclaim, playfully pushing his shoulder with your hand.
"I was just thinking we could, you know, do another shot?" He suggests. "Have a little fun?"
You purse your lips. "Hmm. It depends on what the shots are."
He smiles. "Whatever the hell you want."
You give him a curt nod, satisfied with his answer. "Good answer."
Grabbing him by the forearm, you pull him back to the kitchen, where you pour a mixture of whiskey, vodka, and juice into two plastic cups.
"This is gonna taste like shit," Jason groans as he peers into the cup on the counter.
"Yeah, but it's what I want," you pass him the cup, taking the other in your hand.
He rolls his eyes playfully. "Okay, okay."
You both knock back the shots simultaneously.
It tastes...well, like shit.
But, whatever.
You just wanted to get fucked up.
And maybe bust Jason's balls some more.
Only time will tell.
Tumblr media
"We can't. We're just friends," you murmur, a hint of desperation in your voice.
You've known Jason for years, and your friendship has always been a safe haven, a place where you could be yourself without any romantic complications.
But tonight, something has changed.
"Come on, Sweetheart," Jason coaxes. "We can have fun. Can't we?"
You're struggling to understand how this unexpected turn of events has shaped your night.
You and Jason weren't even really that drunk, just tipsy.
Not slurring words or wobbly when walking, just loose lips apparently.
After that weird cocktail mix you made, you and Jason took one more shot of straight vodka, made your way to one of the rooms off the kitchen, and simply sat on the ground in front of the bed and talked.
Talked for how long?
You're not entirely sure.
But somewhere in between talking about your exam next Wednesday and Jason's nights spent as a vigilante, things became more intimate.
Because now he was trying to convince you that one kiss won't hurt.
You do want to kiss him.
Desperately actually.
But the fear of losing his friendship or changing the dynamics holds you back.
"I don't know..." You trail off as Jason's hand brushes against your cheek. "Won't it be weird after?"
"Not if we don't make it weird," he hums, eyes staring at your lips.
You release a small breath as his hand moves to cup your jaw.
"You tell me no if you don't want to," his voice is serious, and his eyes lock with yours.
You nod, teeth digging into your lip. "I think...just a small kiss won't hurt. Right?" You try to convince yourself as you find yourself leaning closer.
"Yeah," he says mechanically. "Small," he affirms as his lips press into yours. 
You weren't entirely sure what you expected, but, holy shit, it wasn't this. 
Your skin sizzled, and a fire ignited in your stomach. 
His lips were so soft against yours. 
Although it was meant to be a brief kiss, just a fleeting moment of connection you both knew you shouldn't indulge in, the pull was too strong and the desire too intense to resist. 
It was a battle you were losing, and you didn't even want to win. 
Your lips moved in perfect sync. 
Why the hell would you want to stop that?
You placed your hand gently on his jaw, drawing him closer and deepening the kiss.
A soft groan escapes from him, and you catch it in your mouth, causing you to whimper.
Jason can't help it.
The soft sounds you were making were slowly driving him up the wall.
His hands moved to grip your waist, pulling you onto him so you straddle him.
You never stop kissing him.
Not even to complain about him moving you onto his lap.
You can't even find it in you to be bothered.
Your hands are moving through his hair, as his messily skim over your hips, occasionally squeezing your ass.
"Can’t believe I waited so long to kiss you," he whispers against your lips.
"Feels so good."
A soft moan escapes your lips at his compliment, and you can feel a wave of tingles spreading over your skin.
"Yeah?" You murmur, your teeth playfully nibbling at his bottom lip.
"Oh fuck," he mumbles, fingers digging into your waist. 
His heavy-lidded gaze catches yours. "Yeah, feels so good, Baby."
You let out a soft breath in response to his endearing words. "Should we...stop?" you ask hesitantly, your fingers gently running through his hair.
Internally, hoping he says no.
“No, Sweetheart,” he replies softly, his gaze fixed on your lips with undeniable fascination. “Unless you want to.”
Just as you’re about to respond, a loud banging on the door startles both you and Jason.
"Occupied!" You shout back, turning towards the door.
You shift your focus back to Jason's eyes, and in that moment, something pulls you back into reality.
"Oh, fuck," you exclaim, shifting off his lap and settling onto the carpet beside him instead.
"You oka—" Jason begins, sensing your frenzy before you interrupt him.
"Oh my God. We totally just made out," your hands are anxiously gliding through your hair. "And I liked it!" 
Jason lets out a shallow laugh as his hand gently rests against your shoulder. "It's alright," he coos. “I liked it, too."
Your eyes flick to his. "Seriously?"
"Yeah, it was...really nice," he awkwardly says. 
Your lip quips at his awkwardness. "It was," you agree.
"Listen, I—" He starts to say, but is cut off once more by a notification on his phone. It’s from Barbara, alerting him about a local crime circuit in Blüdhaven.
"Shit," he curses as he moves to stand. "I'm really sorry. I have to—"
"It's okay, Jason. I get it," you say with complete assurance. "Gotta go play vigilante."
"I'm in a rush, so I'm not going to touch on that," he shoves the phone into his pocket. "Can I come by your dorm after?" He carefully asks.
"Yeah. Okay..." You nod your head, pursing your lips awkwardly.
"You're being weird about it," Jason tips his head down.
"No! No! I just...let's talk later, alright?" You exhale deeply, doing your best to suppress your shyness.
He gives a nod before leaning down to kiss your forehead, then turns and walks out of the bedroom.
As he steps out, you lean your head against the bed's edge, allowing yourself to dive deep into your thoughts.
It wouldn't be the worst if you and Jason started dating.
If that's what he wanted.
He's kind, charming, and quite attractive.
You're unsure if it's just your inebriated state of mind.
But then you remember drunk words are sober thoughts.
So, yeah…you may be totally crushing on one of your greatest friends.
There are worse things to have happened.
Tumblr media
author’s note: sorry to tease, but writing smut is too much atm lol also tried a new format hehe i’m kind of feeling it. not proofread!
divider by @/saradika-graphics!
341 notes · View notes
delusionsofgrandeur13 · 3 days ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
good old-fashioned lover boy
a valentines weekend event fic!
jason todd x reader: ever the romantic: despite all his best attempts, none of his valentine’s day plans are going right!
content level: fluff so fluffy you could make a bed out of it and sleep for days
Tumblr media
“with what..i most enjoy contented least..” jason shakes his head, pacing around the living room. “yet..in these thoughts? myself almost despising..c’mon, already!” he keeps muttering to himself, and from your position in the hallway, he looks extremely frustrated. you stifle a giggle, stepping out.
“jay?” you call, smiling warmly as you head his way.
“baby!” he starts, looking surprised. he puts up what look like jazz hands, before looking at his pose and dropping them, sheepish. “what’s up?”
“oh, nothing..” you plop onto the couch, pulling out your phone, waving it at him. “i did just get off of the phone with your brother, and he’s taking barbara on a little getaway. isn’t that sweet?”
jason nods, his whole demeanor having changed since the mention of dick. he waves for you to continue. because of course there’s more.
“well, he was wondering if we’d be able to dogsit haley.” you drop the news, almost cringing in anticipation of jason’s hard:
“no.”
“jay, why not? that dog is so stinkin’ cute and i have no problem with it.” he plops down next to you on the couch, and you blink up at him. “besides, it’s for valentine’s day! spread a little love!”
jason grabs your thigh, smirking. “oh, i’ll spread a little love, alright.”
“not if you’re gonna be this stubborn.” you roll your eyes, whacking his arm.
he sighs as you get up to go to the kitchen, dramatic as ever.
“fine.” he relents, and internally you let out a sigh of your own.
“good, because i already told him yes.”
your admission leaves jason groaning, but a small smile sits on his lips.
Tumblr media
a few months prior:
“these ones, right?” the clerk looks up as packets upon packets of seeds tumble onto the checkout counter. she sets down her magazine, mumbling under her breath.
“camellia, tulips, coneflower, lily of the valley..” she shuffles through them, nodding as she goes. “yep, these should all work!”
“okay.” jason nods firmly. “i want all of them.”
Tumblr media
february 13
haley’s happy barks are making you giggle, and jason suddenly can’t remember why he was ever opposed to the idea. if there’s an open tab on his search engine for the nearest shelter, well. that’s no one’s business but his.
you’re infatuated with haley, and jason snapped a ridiculous amount of pictures when you fell asleep on the couch with the dog snuggled up next to you.
later
you walk in as jason’s opening and closing the cabinets in the kitchen, a bit frantically.
“okay, flour, baking soda, sugar..”
“hey, baby. whatcha doing?”
jason jumps, turning around with a smile.
“hi honey! nothing, really. what are you doing?” he leans against one of the counters.
“uh..nothing? do you still want to go try that new pizza spot?” you walk up to him, resting your head on his chest and threading your arms under his. he wraps you up into a hug, walking you away from the kitchen. you giggle, your smile scrunching up your eyes.
“jay, where are we going?”
“why, to go get ready, of course?” he says, playing serious.
even later
you’re scrolling on your phone, looking for gifts for your boyfriend for valentine’s day, when he pops his head into the bedroom.
“i’m going to head out to the store, babe. do you need anything?”
you cock your head, sort of confused. you and jason almost always go get groceries together, unless one of you is at work or something. you set your phone down, thinking.
“the only thing i can think of is that we might be running a little low on eggs?”
jason nods, coming in to plant a big kiss on your forehead.
“sounds good,” he says, grabbing his jacket as he walks out. you settle back into bed, eyebrows furrowed. weird.
Tumblr media
february 14th
“damn it, damian!” jason hoarsely growls from your apartment’s balcony, eyes locked on his flower pots. (or what was left of them) he’d gotten up early to get everything ready, and there was a batarang lodged into his pot, the flowers—he leaned over the railing—yup, on the sidewalk. great. now he’d have to buy you a store bought bouquet. which is fine, but seriously? he has half a mind to send a bill to bruce, he’s so pissed off. he didn’t even realize they were fighting over here last night, how could he not have heard?
he trudges down to the street with a garbage bag, carefully picking up the flowers—which had already been stepped on, to add insult to injury—handfuls of dirt, and the broken shards of the pot, dropping them all into the bag. an elderly woman strolls by, patting him on the back.
“such a nice young man!” she calls after him. he nods, raising a hand in acknowledgement. he doesn’t feel very nice right now.
Tumblr media
jason cannot believe his ears right now. his voice is..gone? he spent weeks memorizing that sonnet for you, and his voice is a raspy, gravelly mess. you two had slept with the window open last night and it’d been pretty cold, but you liked that. he liked it, because the you’d snuggle up next to him. but he must be starting to get a cold or something. he hasn’t really talked yet today either, he’s been home alone while you’re at work. so far he’s just talked to the dog..which went extremely poorly. he tried to give haley a command, but just sounded like a teenager in puberty. he just knows if dogs could laugh, haley would’ve been cackling. ugh. maybe he’ll just save it for an anniversary. tying on an apron, jason grabs all the cake ingredients he needs, setting them out onto the counter.
the cake is baked, and it is beautiful. jason’s proud of himself, putting the final touches on the frosting, adding flourishes he didn’t even know he knew how to do. he sets down the piping bag, checking the time. you should be home from work anytime now. he takes his apron off, washing his hands. his shirt is..covered in flour, to say the least. he goes the bedroom to change, (into a different black shirt) coming back out when he sees disaster about to strike.
“haley, no!” jason shouts, except the dog can’t hear him if he’s lost his voice. haley jumps up, grabbing the end of the plate with her teeth. it bangs against the side of the counter, effectively flinging the cake across the room, onto the kitchen floor. jason slaps a hand over his eyes, groaning. the familiar metal of your key slots into the lock, and you open the door to…
what exactly is going on, anyways?
jason has a smear of what looks like flour on his face, haley is sitting, looking at you with her tongue out and her tail wagging, and there’s a cake. on the floor.
“jay..what?” you set down your bag, shrugging your coat off and dropping that too, heading towards your boyfriend. “what happened, baby?”
“i was trying,” jason sighs. “i was trying to make you a cake for valentine’s day. and grow you flowers. and recite shakespeare to you. but quite literally none of those things worked out.”
you smile, sending his heart thumping as you brush the flour off of his cheek.
“well, i don’t know about you, but i’m starving. and there’s some cake on the floor over there that looks, like, really good.”
jason rolls his eyes at you, a smile starting on his lips. you grab two forks, handing him one. he joins you on the floor, watching as you take a huge first bite. your cheeks puffed, you chew with wide eyes. jason chuckles, grabbing some for himself too. you swallow, grabbing his hand.
“jason. i don’t know how to tell you this, but you need to quit everything you’re doing and become a professional baker. this cake is insane.” you take another bite, sighing as you close your eyes.
“you’re ridiculous.” jason’s blushing, shaking his head. you shrug, scooping cake up and bringing your fork to his lips.
“yeah, but you like it.” you say as he nods, chewing. he swallows, beaming at you.
“happy valentine’s day, baby.”
“happy valentine’s day, jason.”
༄ For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings
That then I scorn to change my state with kings.
from sonnet 29, william shakespeare.
Tumblr media
post divider courtesy of: @saradika-graphics
380 notes · View notes
plethorawrites · 23 hours ago
Text
Jason Todd would be terrified to hurt you, even by just laying on you, so when he first has the desire to wrap his fingers around your neck, it's instantly shoved aside. The thought is pushed away and away, suppressed every single time he gets the urge because he doesn't want to scare you or hurt you.
If you were ever afraid of him, he wouldn't know what to do with himself.
That said, when finally does indulge himself, losing his self control during one, extremely enthusiastic evening with you, he can't believe he didn't trust himself enough to do it sooner.
His hand envelopes your entire throat without any problem, not squeezing it even the slightest bit, simply holding it, his thumb pressed to the side of your neck where he can feel your pulse. It's rapid and gets even faster as the night goes on.
Even when you're laying still, holding him close, his hand is still there, draped over the base of your neck, counting the little thumps in your pulse.
He doesn't admit how much he absolutely love feeling your pulse. But it's not hard to tell. Especially since after that night, he wasn't the slightest bit shy about it.
He holds your neck at any opportunity, while standing behind you in the kitchen or bathroom.
He lays with his face against your neck to feel it under his lips.
He naps with his head on your chest, his ear firmly pressed against your heart to let the sound of it beating help him relax.
Even in public, he's holding your hand at lunch or dinner, his thumb pressed to your wrist to feel your pulse under the table.
Anything to remind himself you're real, alive, and his.
373 notes · View notes
jellofish-plant · 3 days ago
Text
Leather & Warmth
Pairing: Jason Todd (Red Hood) x Reader Summary: Gotham nights were always cold, but Jason Todd ran warm. After a long night of waiting for him, he finds you shivering and decides his jacket looks better on you than it ever did on him. Warnings: Flirty banter, mild language, soft Jason
[Masterlist]
Tumblr media
The cold Gotham air bit at your skin as you leaned against the rooftop railing, your camera tucked away in its case. You were supposed to be long gone by now, but waiting for Jason had become second nature.
You heard him before you saw him the heavy landing of his boots on the rooftop behind you, followed by a sharp intake of breath.
“You know, for someone who lectures me about being reckless, you sure like standing out in the cold,” Jason’s voice rang out, low and amused.
You turned, rolling your eyes. “Took you long enough. I was about to leave.”
Jason smirked as he stepped closer, the red of his helmet gleaming under the city lights. He reached up, popping it off with one hand before shaking out his dark hair. His sharp blue eyes flickered to you, scanning over the way you held yourself—arms crossed tightly over your chest, slight tremble in your fingers.
“Jesus, you’re freezing,” he muttered, already shrugging off his leather jacket.
Before you could protest, he draped it over your shoulders, the scent of gunpowder, leather, and something distinctly Jason washing over you. It was heavier than you expected, warm from his body heat.
You looked up at him, but he was already smirking. “Yeah… you look better in my jacket.”
You scoffed, tugging it closer around you. “Is that your way of saying I can keep it?”
Jason stepped in, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him despite the cold. “Nah,” he drawled, voice dropping slightly. “It’s my way of making sure you actually stay warm instead of being stubborn.”
You huffed, but your lips twitched into a small smile. “How generous of you.”
Jason grinned, reaching up to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. “What can I say? I’m a giver.”
You rolled your eyes, but when he shifted beside you, leaning against the railing, you didn’t move away. The night didn’t seem so cold anymore.
218 notes · View notes
cyanide-and-roses · 2 hours ago
Note
MORE ARKHAM KNIGHT WOOOOOOO!
Another banger. I'm a slut for a good literature reference, so the beginning was, like, perfect.
OMG THE DAMIAN X CATGIRL ONE WAS SO GOOD I NEED CATWOMAN TO ADOPT A WHOLE LITTER. Soooo imagine AK Jason Todd with a catwoman of his own? Having fun until Jason got stuck and torture at the asylum, only to come back to find that Catwoman have Tim as the new Robin? 🥺.
Because seeing this it just fuels he's hate towards the new Robin for 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙨𝙠𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 HIS catwoman away. Pain to Batman, pain to the new Robin, and now he's bringing it to HER. Hey would she recognize him with the the helmet on? Who knows? 🤷‍♂️
This is an idea I want to write, love u wishes ❤️
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
NO CAUSE I'VE BEEN SO OBSESSED WITH THIS IDEA!!!!!! It is literally everything!! Poor Jason can't catch a break not only has Batman, his mentor, his father, replaced him! But you! The only girl he's ever loved, someone he's been connected to on such a spiritual level since taking up his mantle. Even you have forgotten him, even you have forsaken him! Oh yeah, definitely pain to reader 😠😠
Tumblr media
I want you to be measurable too...
=ᗢ==ᗢ==ᗢ==ᗢ==ᗢ==ᗢ==ᗢ==ᗢ==ᗢ==ᗢ
He'd spent the better days of his boyhood, hanging by the thin metallic thread of a grappling hook. Swinging, feet first from rooftop to rooftop. Muscles taut, body coiled around the rope like a snake around a baobab tree.
He'd read The Little Prince last night, that's how he learned of such marvelous grandiose arbors. Trees that breach the mind, that grow tall enough to shadow Wayne Tower. We wonders if Bruce will take him to Africa one day, he wonders if his mentor will show him the baobab trees. If they'll feel cool and brambly under his palm.
Jason lands on the Museum's roof. Prying through the skylight watching as you kneel by your mentor, your mother. Greedily shoving colorful diamonds into fabric bags. Even in the dark, he's half mesmerized by the fluid motion of your body, the way your muscles flex so smoothly. His breath hitches in his throat too engrossed in the moment.
It's not the baobab trees that Jason thinks of when he sees you.
Instead, it's a rose. Not roses, plural, rose singular. As the rose the little prince had. The thing he cherished more than his own life. The thing he'd die for over and over again.
He hears Bruce land behind him. The moment gone evaporating like morning dew upon red petals. He straightens, ready, he has a job to do, a father to impress.
And maybe that book, that dreadful, wonderful book had been his first taste of bitter love. Through the pages and the words spoken between Prince and Rose, little Jason Todd had savored his first dose of obsession.
You kick him in the shoulder, sending him flying to the skyscraper edge. Jason swings himself up just as you are near to inspect your prey. His knees cage your hips and he uses all his force to push you down.
The stars blink overhead, paparazzi cameras catching a private moment between two masked kids. "Hello, Robin" you purr clawed gloves idly tracing his arm. Jason tries to smile to smirk, to flirt back."H-hello Ki-tty". But the blood rushing to his face has him stunned he can't breathe. Why do you look so pretty like this? Laying on your back staring up at him with big perfect eyes. You tilt your head and meow.
"Hey, that's Miss Kitty to you"...
He likes this new side of you, likes the mace you wield like a whip. It looks like yarn, soft and delicate.
The punchline lands at the same time as the flanged head crashes to his ribs. He thinks they shattered, cartilages cracking, freeing the marrow from within.
So this is what love feels like. Pain that rages from the inside sharp shards piercing soft organ tissue. So painful it tickles and you can feel the blood pooling in your mouth along with all the words you long to say.
No wonder the little prince kept going back to the rose. No wonder he found euphoria in the prick of her thorns.
He struggles to his feet and jumps, as high as he can. His side bruns begging him to stay down. Be he can't, he won't, Bruce wouldn't, and Alfred will find a way to piece him back together. So he takes flight flipping through the air, out of your sight.
For a moment you're stunned lackadaisically twirling your mace like a ballerina's ribbon wand. And even though he's mid attack Jason can't help admiring how ethereal you look, like a lion cub out on her first hunt.
Jason's knees land on your shoulder blades, his weight making you fall on your stomach with a pained scream. Your mace rolls away, thank God, that could have gotten too messy he thinks. Jason tugs hard on your cat ears, pulling back your head and exposing your neck to point a Batarang at your throat. "Here, kitty, kitty" he mocks, playful cadence laced with derision. You hiss out in pain as he brings his head closer. He looks so handsome upside down, like the pretty birds that sing on the balcony.
It's a split second, you raise your head, and the Batarang's wing punctures your collarbone. Your lips push on his, hollow but sweet. You feel his body go ridge his hold on his weapon lost. Still, you persist not breaking your first kiss...
You guess it's his too, you hope it is. Only when you feel his lips push back do you force him off with all your might. Grabbing your mace and jumping to the next rooftop. What is this excitement, so raw, so frantic?
You don't stop running until you make it home.
You don't look back, scared he'll see the bright pink dusting your cheeks.
You open the window and silently slip in.
Only to see Selina waiting in the dark.
Arms crossed and eyebrow raised.
He's baptized by blood and iron.
Broken down bone by bone.
Left to bleed out in the dark on the dirty asylum floor.
Still, he holds your name under his tongue, caged between his teeth.
His little kitten.
Sometimes he pretends you're lying next to him, gazing into his eyes as you too bleed out. Sometimes he laughs at your sarcastic quips at the dreaded clown. No dread is too light a word you'd correct. He finds you more attractive when you spill graphic profanities.
But you're not here, not really. And he can't quite tell if he's happy or not. His hand always reaches out to you. Desperate to feel your warmth, just once more...
And yet he's always met with air.
Always met by the stickiness of his own blood pooling beneath him.
He watches you from afar. Haunting the night, camouflaged amongst the shodws. The still Gotham night feels like a homecoming. A bittersweet reunion with a world that's both abandoned and forgotten him.
The arkham night swallows thickly, from behind his digilitized mask he zooms in on two figures in the distance. Swinging on metal threads, bodies coiled like snakes, latching on. One loses muscle one wrong move and they plummet to their death.
But the figures don't seem scared. You don't seem scared as you laugh at the boy wearing his clothes. No not his clothes, he's made sure to burn them all so very long ago. Instead, the boy wears red and black and yellow, he wears his symbol. But the garments are looser, not carved but built, foreign things covering a boy's body. Not armored built from years of endurance.
Still, you don't seem to mind, you scratch at him playfully as if he were a mouse on a string. You hiss and meow as he laughs and spools sanctimonious gibberish that sounds all so very Bat in nature.
Who else have you been sneaking off with? Jason makes a note to keep a better eye on you.
Jason's ironclad fists meet with Bruce's masked face.
Again and Again. He points his gun beneath his old mentor's ribs and shoots. Feel me he scream inside himself. Feel my pain. From the shadows, something pounces. Familiar nails try to dig into his chest, bypass the iron armor, and impale him.
It doesn't take much force to tug her off of him. He smashes her into the cement. Catwoman lets out an all-so-familiar meowl of pain. His boot meets with her flesh, her bones. Grinding them into the pavement, he can't tell why he wants to hurt her. Does he blame her for your disloyalty, does he want to hurt Bruce? The thoughts grow heavy as his ears buzz with rage. When he finally leaves he tosses a glare behind his shoulder watching the bat crawling toward the cat.
"Don't worry about your Kitten, I'll take better care of her than you ever could." His modulated inhuman voice promises...
It's been all so long since he's thought of roses and baobab tress, so long since he's pretended to be a prince returning to his scared beloved rose. Jason- no the Arkham Knight- corners you on a rooftop as you frantically try to reach your mentor. He watches as you twirl your mace, ready to fight. They're so much hatred behind your eyes, do you really not see him?
Your mace's head swings at his ribs, good to see some things never change, he counters the attack seizing the weapon with one hand. You try to pull it back to bring him to you. Instead, Jason pulls back and you're sent hurling into the thick metal of his chest. Your head spins as you glare up at him. His fingers wrap around your neck squeezing.
squeezing
squeezing
He'll find the new bird later. Crush his skull before your eyes. He'll make you suffer for leaving him. For turning your tretory.
At his base, in an interrogation room, the Arkham Knight slowly starts to peel away your sanity. Breaking your bones, your mind, your essence. Morphing you from the helpless little kitty into a bloodthirsty lioness. Whose only purpose is to be at his beck and call. You'll live for him, die for him. His perfect little pet. And once he knows he's broken your mind completely, the only thoughts swimming around that damaged thing are how to please your master. Then he'll unleash you on Gotham, watching as you tear into your mother's throat, ripping her apart with bare teeth and claws. Just like he will do to his father...
Then, and only then. When Gotham is his, he'll pull away the mask and let you see the man beneath the helm. He'll let you see the man who used to be Jason Todd.
Tumblr media
Let me know if you guys ever want a fic or HC on what Jason ends up doing to the reader, I'll try to make it as gorey and darkly romantic as I can. Honestly rn my brain is so fired I can't really come up with anything lol. 😅😅
Love you to the moon and back for this ask Anon!! AAAWWWW Arkham Knight Jason is honestly the LOVE OF MY LIFE!!
351 notes · View notes
in-som-niyah · 3 days ago
Note
hiii i hope you’re having a good day/night!!!
saw your inbox was open, may i ask hurt comfort w jason with lines like “you know i would die for you” “but i want you to live for me” or something like that (u can ignore the lines if you like)
love your works ♥︎
a/n: we're gonna ignore the fact that this was requested a yr ago ok thanks
Your phone has been left in your purse of the past 3 days and you refuse to touch it until it rings the specific ringtone attributed to Jason's number.
The last you heard of him was when you fought for the millionth time over him coming home fractured and barely together. You're grateful he told you that he's Red Hood and he comes to you when he needs to be put back together, but every bruise on Jason's body would chip away at your resolve. Every bleeding gash a reminder that someone is out to hurt him, and he barely got away.
It came to a head when he promised, he promised, he wouldn't overdo it anymore, he'll walk away when the reward is no longer worth the fight. His boots collided with your floor and he stumbled into your bathroom. Blood seeping through the hand holding his side, a harsh groan and whimper as he collapsed onto your desk chair. Blood was everywhere. He couldn't even hold a breath long enough to apologize for it.
Of course you patched him up; you grabbed the gauze and antiseptic and needles and all of that. You cleaned, stitched him and did everything you're supposed to do. You did what you're supposed to do and still. Still he's almost dying in your room.
It ended in yelling, biting comebacks and clothes thrown into bags. Neither of you are sure how it happened, or what was said. All you know is that it hurts. It hurts so much. You've learned to lean on each other when things got heavy, but soft hands have sharp teeth it seems.
You know he would die for you, but you don't want a funeral; why can't he understand that his beating heart means more to you than a casket?
---
Three days.
Three days of nothing.
You haven't seen or heard from him. You were worried for your relationship of course, but also for his health; he has a tendency to be more risky when emotionally volatile.
Is he bleeding out somewhere?
Is he scared?
Is he as distraught as you are?
Too many thoughts for a mind too far into exhaustion. You needed to pull yourself together. Work had to carry on. You're a nurse, helping people is what you do. Get a fucking grip.
It took 6 nights for Jason to show up again. You never gave him permission to come into your shitty apartment in the first place, he never asked anyway.
This time he was standing upright, bandages still on, but the wounds were no longer bleeding. His eyes delayed meeting yours, favouring instead to look behind you and into our apartment, looking as if he'll find someone else lounging in his place.
You looked at him, but really his injuries and lingering bruises. Jason stood in your doorway helmetless, coming to you as a person rather than a character. You appreciated this, but stunned at the intrusion.
"Look at me." Jason starts.
His voice is low, gentle. Nothing like it was a week ago. It carries concern, consideration and fondness. Nothing like it was a week ago.
You dare not look at him. Under no circumstances will you tell him how bad the past six days were for you. You will not tell him how your cell phone is still in your bag. You will not tell him how you can't pick it up for any other ringtone other than his.
"Please"
Jason sounds like he's choking. He sounds like you're strangling him and sucking the air from his lungs. He sounds like the world is in limbo.
A small droplet falls to your feet. You instinctually look up, and regret it instantly. Puffy eyes weighed down by eye bags collected from restless nights met your gaze. Looking at Jason was a gut punch, a twisting, winding, gut punch.
You didn't notice your own tears, but you managed to close the door behind you before you were pulled into his arms. Injuries be damned, he would rip a thousand stitches before he deprived himself of how you felt against him. The smell of your deep conditioner, the feeling of your soft curls against his shoulder, the tenderness of your body, the warmth of your skin. He remembers now.
Jason remembers why he loves likes you. He remembers why he broke through your window the first couple nights. He needs you, and he's a fucking idiot if he continues to put flinging himself into danger over you.
Jason ends up sitting in your doorway, arms around you, fists curled in your clothes. He held you as if you would disappear. He held you as if you would draw all his breath from him if you pulled away. He would never, never make that mistake again. Nothing on this godforsaken planet, in this shitty city is ever worth more than you.
Just as quickly as they came, Jason's convictions to his lifestyle came crumbling down. If any of his enemies were to hold a gun to his head, right here right now, he would go without a fight.
Though words evaded him, he was an idiot if he didn't at least try.
"I'm so sorry" you sob.
"I love you too."
---
a/n pt2: so this came out so much more angsty than i thought so im sorry for that!! im finally on a roll where i feel motivated so i'm gonna keep writing hopefully <3 thank you so much for ur patience and such a great ask <3
also im an idiot and just ran with this and just realized that you wanted quotes instead of just a general concept AFTER the fact that i wrote this so... yeah 🙂, this is going well 🙂
Also, i think this fits intot he fem!black!nurse!reader AU that i may or may not have made official so theres that <3
123 notes · View notes
custardtartsfan · 17 hours ago
Text
Jason Todd uses a flip phone. No he will not upgrade.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
a little bit proofread! youd think the child of an ESL teacher would know whats up but youd be wrong! anywho this is vv off the dome and i didnt exactly know how to end it so please tell me if you feel like it flows right i appreciate any and all feedback very dearly ࿐ ࿔*:・゚
Tumblr media
“Jay!” his partner calls from the other side of his apartment, making their way from the kitchen to where he was cleaning his guns in the living room. A very ritualistic process for him. They're all uniformly laid out on his coffee table (which he did not own before getting into a relationship, shout out the wife) , unassembled and being very carefully cleaned with a level of precision you seldom see outside of scientific glass blowers. Hes locked in
“What?” Jason looks up from his gun cleaning ritual 
“Can i borrow your phone? I wanna order food” they smiled, leaning over the back of his couch
“Whats wrong with yours?” he asks, “dead” y/n replied simply, and Jason reaches into his pocket with minimal grumbling
Jason was not a fan of technology, as a rule. He thinks its evil. He doesn't have any social media, does not watch any tv that isn't the news, and doesn't particularly like having his photo taken on anything digital. But still, none of that knowledge about their boyfriend couldve prepared y/n for being presented with a tomato red  Motorola RAZR V3 Flip Cellphone after it was dug out of Jasons cargo pants
“...what the fuck is this” they gawked at him. They hadnt been together all that long, but long enough that y/n feels that they should have noticed this piece of ancient history in his possession
“What?” Jason replied casually, unclear why they were looking at his phone like that “you have my phone no? Order your food” he said while getting back to the gun cleaining 
“Im- what is this?? Jason, be serious” y/n said, still absolutely rubbernecking at the phone. They went around the couch to look him in the eyes
Jason made a face “im being serious, order your food” he rolled his eyes at his partners ridiculousness. 
“Jason.” y/n gawped “look me in the eyes and tell me this is your actual primary cellphone.” they said, leaning down to look their boyfriend in his soul. Jason furrowed his brows
“Thats my phone. Why is this a big deal? I dont like apples and samsongs. Or whatever” Jason responds, puting down the half put together glock hes cleaning to cross his arms and lean back against the couch 
“My phone number is in this. You answer my texts from this thing??” they asked, still holding out hope this was a really stupid elaborate prank. From their boyfriend. Who had the driest sense of humor on the- okay yea he wasnt joking
“Yes??” he said incredulously, looking at his partener like they were being unreasonable. Actually- they were being unreasonable. It was a razr phone, not some far future star wars trans communicator. y/n needs a second to think about this
They plop themselves onto the couch next to their boyfriend, staring at the ceiling
“You really are a drug dealer” they murmured. Jason snorted
Jason snorted. “Below the belt” he retorts, snickering as he went back to his gun cleaning. Locked in. clear eyes, full hearts, cant lose.
“You need an actual phone” y/n states, like its the word of god. No protests will be tolerated, this studio apartment is not a democracy. Jason makes a face.
“I dont trust that shit” he murmured, continuing his surgical precision glock cleaning. y/n tilted their head
“Whys that?” they questioned. Jason scoffed, like its obvious
“ ‘don't want the government knowing my business” Jason loured
“Don't want-” y/n looked at him, in his soul “Jason. Whats a drivers license?”
Jason scoffed, smiling since hes won the argument now,in his own mind at least “i dont have one” he said triumphantly. y/ns eyes widened to the size of frisbees. They'd been in a car he was driving. Many times. Yesterday actually
“What the fuck d’you mean you dont have a drivers license??” “i never got one” he answered simply, like that was chill 
“Im- yes i get that. But you drive!” they argued, turning their body to fully face their insane boyfriend
“Well yea,obviously” jason rolled his eyes. y/n guffawed at him
“You're- a prolific criminal” they murmured, deciding not to question it anymore. He dresses up like red riding hood grew up and transitioned and got REALLY into body building. He used to kill people. Hes literally cleaning his multiple unregistered firearms in front of them. 
“Does the pope shit in the woods?” Jason retorts. y/n and jason stared at each other for a second 
“not what that means” “yea not what that means”
Tumblr media
.𖥔 ܁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅ fun with formatting! i like the coloured text but i wish the shades weren't so jarring. i also find the images incredibly annoying to format properly but maybe im just being dense i dunno. the drivers license bit was inspired by my co worker because she too doesn't have a drivers license and yet owns a car and drives it and isnt in jail yet. you go icon
also the term wife is used GENDER NUTREALY !!1! i wanted an actual gender neutral term for nuptial partner but nothing hits like wife does imo. anyways tysm for reading! i love you sleep well ₍ᐢ._.ᐢ₎♡ ༘
127 notes · View notes
shadowsndaisies · 14 hours ago
Text
the beginning
a/n: part one of the brightest of lights white lantern!reader AU!!! im so excited to share this with you as part of my resolution to posting more often, especially the wips that have been sitting stagnant for so long. it's the first time in a while that i get to return to jason todd, my number 1 always.
main masterlist
the brightest of lights masterlist
wc: 4.2k
Tumblr media
“Batcave to Outlaws,” Dick Grayson’s voice flooded the speakers of your new hideout and you heard Jason let out a groan.
“What’s up, Batcave?” you smirk, answering the call.
“Why would you answer?” Jason chided as Dick’s face filled the screen. “You know we don’t like them,” he huffs from where he was sharpening one of his blades.
“I’m bored and their calls usually give me something to do,” you muse.
“Ding! Ding! Ding! The lady is correct. I do have something for you guys,” Dick chimes with a playful smile and Jason shakes his head.
“Fine, I’ll play. What do you want?” Jason asked, moving to stand beside where you were seated at the computer.
“Batman is already on-sight but there was a major crash right on the edge of Gotham. It seems like it’s from space,” Dick teases, and your lips part in excitement as you turn to Jason.
“You had to say space, didn’t you?” Jason sighed looking at you and then to Dick.
“C’mon, Jase, please!” you pleaded.
“If you’re going to go, you should hurry, I think Batman’s gonna call Green Lantern,” a new face appeared on screen, Tim Drake, or Red Robin.
“You know you both are enabling her?” Jason says to his brothers as you shot up from your chair to grab your gear.
“Not our fault your partner’s cooler than you,” Tim smirks.
“You keep this shit up, Timbers, watch what happens,” Jason growled.
You slung your leather jacket on and put on your utility belt before moving back to the screen to grab your phone. “I will leave you here Jason,” you tell him as you slip the device into a lined pocket on the inside of your jacket.
“Damnit, (Y/n), just give me a second,” he sighed, moving from the screen.
“Thanks for the tip, Batcave,” you smile at the two.
“We know you’re a bit of an astrophile,” Dick smiled kindly.
“Yeah, you space-loving geek. What a nerd,” Tim snorted, rolling his eyes in amusement.
“See ya, boys,” you smiled into the camera, “Outlaws, out,” you finished before shutting the call off.
“I don’t understand your obsession with space,” Jason commented as you both mounted your bikes.
“My obsession? Really?” you shoot him a look as you tap your choker, the nanotechnology there crawled over your face producing a helmet of sorts.
“Hey some people like Disney, you like space, I’m not judging, I just don’t get it,” he sighed.
Revving your engine you look over to your partner, “What’s not to get?” you ask, voice slightly distorted before taking off.
By the time you arrived at the crash site, Green Lantern was there talking with Batman, “And here I thought I’d be able to get through a week without having to see him,” Jason drawled and your nanotech helmet dissolved once more leaving you with just your domino mask and choker.
“Play nice, I want to see the spaceship,” you warn your best friend.
You couldn’t see his eyes due to the red helmet but you were positive he was rolling them at your antics. Looping your arm with his you pulled Jason over to where GL and B were.
“Red Hood, I didn’t expect to see you here,” Batman’s eyes narrowed on the two of you.
“Yeah, it’s nice to see you too, Bats,” you smile at the dark knight.
“What are you doing here?” he pressed, pushing past your antics.
“Why can’t we just be doing our jobs as vigilantes to check in on crashes, like this one?” Jason asked, nonchalantly, and while the two leaguers turned to the man with the red helmet, you carefully slipped away.
You had been learning from Jason a lot lately, watching the way he walked, for someone so large and well built, he made virtually no sound. So, as light as you could, you slunk away from the three in discussion and closer to the crash site. The first thing you noticed was that there was a lot of smoke. You pulled your jacket off your body and bundled it up a bit to make a breathable mask for the moment being as you crept through. You also made a mental note to add filters to your helmet for future events like this. You weren’t really sure what you were looking for, but you kept moving, and all of a sudden you found yourself by what had to be the cockpit of his small ship.
“Damnit, (y/n), you couldn’t wait a few minutes?” Jason’s voice crackled over the comms.
You were about to respond when you saw something shift through the smoke, “Holy shit. Red, I think there’s someone alive in the crash,” you said instead, creeping ever closer to the crash.
“What?” he shot back.
“Someone or something alive is in this wreckage, Jase,” you repeat.
“Wait for me,” Jason pleads.
“Fat chance, Red Hood. Hurry up,” you decide as you find an opening.
Carefully you move through the ship, it was about the size of a shipping container, but it had broken into pieces in the crash.
“Hello?” you shouted, squinting through the smoke. “Is someone there?”
There was a flash of white light and a hushed whisper. Definitely a voice, maybe two, but you couldn’t make out what they were saying. Biting down on your lip you surged forwards. Once you cleared a very thick plume of smoke you found what you had been looking for. A body.
It was alien, without a doubt, and he was clad in a white uniform that you most definitely recognized.
“Jase?” you tapped on the comms line, with wide eyes, as you stared at the creature.
Whatever it was, it was bleeding purple blood and its eyes were shut.
“What? What’d you find?” he asked, you could hear him panting a bit.
“It’s a Lantern, I have absolutely no clue what race, but it’s definitely a Lantern,” you shared, but your eyes were analyzing the suit, it was different from the ones you’d see from the Green Lanterns, this one was white, but the design was basically the same.
“What? GL said that no other members of the Green Lantern Corps were detected on Earth,” Jason’s voice crackled a bit.
“I never said it was green,” you shoot back.
Suddenly the being coughed and its eyes opened wide, you surged forward, towards the being, dropping your jacket and your hands moving to the spots that were bleeding.
“Just hold on, alright, help will be here soon,” you whispered as you tried to help the alien.
It’s vibrant purple eyes, focused on you, as you hoped that their physiology was something like your own.
“A Terran, how unforeseen,” it spoke softly and your eyes widened.
This alien whatever it was, was speaking straight into your head.
“Forgive me, but by connecting us, I can assure a clean understanding without a language barrier,” it continued.
“Oh, okay, sure,” you swallowed, even though you really had no clue what was happening.
“I’m afraid, Terran, I will not make it through this,” the being let out what seemed to be a sigh.
“I don’t really know how to help,” you admit.
“Tell me, Terran, do you love? Have you compassion? Hope? Are there things you fear? Things you wish to claim for yourself? Are you angry? Do you possess the strength to balance all of these emotions?” the creature’s voice was gravelly in your mind but you kept your place.
“I-I mean I guess so?” you offered. “Doesn’t everybody?”
“Hmm, show me. Show me the things that you relate to these emotions,” it pushed. “Begin with Anger.”
A memory flashed before your eyes, the night you met Jason. You had just started the vigilante thing when you saw a couple kids getting cornered in crime alley. Some gang that was trying to recruit them had backed them into a dead end. You had left them knocked out and zip tied to a wall with a note for the cops. But those kids, you made sure they were okay, it pissed you off to see good kids stuck in crappy situations, and there were so many of them.
“Hmm, angry for the violence and pain inflicted on others? Interesting,” it hummed, “now, what of greed?” your surprise was definitely clear, this thing, whatever it was, was reading your mind.
This time the memory was the first time you walked through Wayne Manor. It was so huge, and everything you had dreamed about as a kid on the streets. Something that you had always wanted, a life of luxury, and yet it seemed so foreign, it still did.
“What do you fear?”
You saw Jason bleeding on your sofa, two bullet wounds, a cut. You weren’t much better, the two of you had barely made it out of this last fight with your lives. You remembered the day so vividly because Jason had almost died trying to save you.
“And hope, do you possess the purest of all?” he continued.
There’s a little girl on her dad’s shoulders, they’re at the park, she’s giggling and he’s smiling up at her. Jason, Roy, and Kori were with you, the group had decided to take a chill day. There were cups of lemonade, a couple of books, a speaker and you were lounging about in one of the rare sunny days here in Gotham. These were the days that reminded you why you fought so hard, they reminded you of what you were protecting.
“What is compassion, Terran?
It’s almost funny what memory surfaces this time. You’re leaning back against a brick wall in the Narrows, eyes bright as you keep watch. Jason’s crouched down with a bunch of kids around him. He’s giving them lollipops, clothes, blankets; all in all, about a grand’s worth of stuff. You knew that because it was money you had raided from Black Mask a few days earlier.
“Why are you asking me these things? Who are you? What are you?” you interrupted, this thing was reading your mind, and you were trying your best to force it out.
“I will answer your questions, but there is one more. Do you have one to love?” it asked and your breath hitched, because you knew exactly where that would send you.
You saw yourself back at the hideout with Jason; cleaning guns, sharpening blades, watching a movie, and passing out together on the sofa. He was all you needed.
“Hmm, how interesting. Maybe you Terrans have an inaccurate reputation,” it hummed. “You will make an excellent choice.”
“What are you talking about?”
“My name is Ophelius, I am the last ring-bearer of the White Lanterns. And you, you will be my successor,” Ophelius shared and your eyes bulged. “What is your name, Terran?
“Woah, what?”
“Your name,” he pushed.
“(Y/n),” you answered and he nodded.
“A white lantern must embody all the emotions, all the spectrums of the light. You must feel everything, and most of all, you must balance them. Your emotions will be your saving grace but lose balance, fall unevenly to any and you will destroy yourself and everything around you,” he warned.
“Ophelius, just hold on. A Green Lantern is on the way, he’ll be able to save you,” you tried to reason.
“No, there is no time to wait for Oa’s warrior. Listen to me Terran, remember these words, they will be your connection to all those before you, to the power of the light, and to the balance within,” Ophelius warned and he raised his hand to you, four fingers of light green skin, one of which was adorned with a white ring.
“In brightest day there will be light,” he said solemnly and the ring began to glow with a bright white light. “To cleanse the soul and set wrongs right,” he continued and the ring slowly lifted from his finger. “When darkness falls, look to the skies,” it spun carefully in the air, enveloping you and Ophelius in this white light. “A new dawn comes,” the ring placed itself on your finger, “let there be light,” Ophelius finished and the light died away, leaving you in white and Ophelius who looked even paler than before.
“Ophelius,” you muttered his name carefully.
“Be the brightest of lights, (y/n),” he whispered once more and he fell back gently against the ground.
“(Y/n)!” you heard Jason shout your name but your eyes stayed glued to the now-dead alien.
“(Y/n)!” that was Green Lantern’s voice.
“Damnit, (Y/n), where are you?” Jason called out again.
“Ophelius?” you whispered his name but there was no response, the alien was dead and he had left you with the last ring of the White Lanterns.
A hand landed on your shoulder and as you turned your eyes met the cowl covered ones of the Batman. His costume was such a stark contrast to what you were now wearing. Your previous attire had been your costume, a black armour-padded halter top, utility belt, military-grade camoflauge-printted dark cargo pants with a kevlar weave and combat boots. Now? Now you were wearing the exact same thing in white, but it felt different somehow, like there was something thrumming in each thread.
“Here,” the Bat’s gravelly voice called out.
A second later Jason came bounding through the smoke, the Green Lantern right behind him. GL’s eyes narrowed on the alien and then on you.
“That’s impossible,” he muttered.
“Woah,” Jason noted.
“He’s dead,” you whispered, staring at the pale alien and straight into his lifeless purple eyes.
“(Y/n)?” Jason crept closer and squatted down beside you.
“I didn’t think he was going to die,” you whispered, looking at the alien and then to your hands which were covered in his purple blood.
“Hey, doll,” Jason said the term softly, forcing you to look at him, “what’s going on in your head?”
“I just wanted to see the spaceship,” you admitted turning to Jason with glassy eyes.
“What did he say?” Green Lantern interrupted.
“Be the light,” you muttered.
“What?” GL pressed.
“He told me to be the light,” you repeated, eyes still glued to the dead alien.
Shakily you reached your hand out, and gently you shut the alien’s eyes, a tear slipping down your cheek, Ophelius had read our life in seconds, but his presence was still so fresh in your mind, it hurt more than you were expecting when he died.
“We need to debrief her at the Watchtower, now,” Green Lantern pushed.
“No, you need to back off,” Jason growled suddenly.
“Hood, stand down,” Batman warned.
“Back off, old man,” Jason threatened, standing back up. “She’s in shock, you robots!”
“Red,” your hand automatically moves towards his side. Gently it rests against his hip and he turns to you. “Hood,” your fingers grip into one of his thigh holsters, needing something to hold onto.
“Let’s go,” Jason huffed.
He grabbed your hand, not caring about the purple blood now on his own hands and suit, and helped you up, one hand went to your back almost immediately as he forced you to move forward.
“Jase,” you said his name softly as he pulled you away from Ophelius’ body. “Jay, stop,” you fight his hand as you force him to stop moving.
“What, doll? What is it?” he asked, hands moving to your arms.
“We have to go with them,” you mutter.
“No way. We’re not doing their dance, not today, not now,” he argued.
Your gaze dropped to your stained hands, and the ring now on your finger, “we have to.”
Safe to say Jason was not pleased to end up in the Batcave twenty minutes later. Sure, it was better than the Watchtower, but it was still more than he wanted. But you were going, and if you were going then so was he. You were his partner and there was no way he was going to leave you in any Justice League madness on your own. Your hands were still stained purple, he hadn’t even given you a chance to clean up before deciding to start the lecture. Surprisingly, it wasn’t Batman, this time it was GL.
“-absolutely reckless, going out on your own into an uncleared sight. Touching an alien that you didn’t know, talking with it instead of calling us? I mean what kind of bullheaded move is that!” you would have laughed if he wasn’t yelling at you. Hal Jordan was usually one of the more relaxed Leaguers, so this was very uncharacteristic.
“Give it a rest, Hal,” Jason finally groaned.
“I haven’t even gotten to you, yet, I mean you let her wander off,” Hal reared.
“I let her?” Jason scoffed. “In case you missed it, she’s a fully grown woman!” Jason shot back.
“Oh, for the love of god,” you interrupted. “Are you going to help me or not, Hal?” you asked him, hands flat on the table while you stood, looking at him definitely, everybody’s masks were off at this point as you addressed each other.
GL seemed taken aback by your abrupt interruption because for a second he just gaped.
“Oh, now he has nothing to say,” Jason scoffed and you leveled your best friend with a look.
“Jason, not helping,” you tell him, he simply sighed and sat back down.
“Look, Hal, this happened and you know better than anyone whether we want it or not, this ring is mine, so you can help me or you can get out of my way,” you lamented, and he sighed, shoulders dropping.
“You don’t understand,” he shared.
“Understand what?” you pressed.
“The White Lantern’s were supposed to be extinct. The power that comes with a White Lantern’s Light is categorically insurmountable,” he explained and your brows furrowed.
“What?” you repeated.
“You encompass all the colors, (y/n)! All of them! As a Green Lantern I focus on the powers of Green. We are the middle of the spectrum, we maintain the balance, but white? White is all the colors, you can’t focus solely on one in risk of losing balance. You have to learn to balance it all.”
“She can do it,” Jason argued.
“It takes years!” Hal shot back, “She doesn’t even know the Lantern’s spectrum!” he negated and your brain made the connection.
“Love, Compassion, Hope, Fear, Greed, and Anger,” you mutter.
“What did you say?” GL’s head snapped back to you in seconds.
“That’s what he asked me about, he read my mind, looked into my memories. Specifically of Love, Compassion, Hope, Fear, Greed, and Anger,” you tell them, and Hal finally shuts his mouth.
“What else did he say?” Batman spoke up for the first time since arriving back at the cave, his cowl was off as he stared at you.
“A mantra,” you tell him.
“A mantra?” Jason repeated, eyebrow quirked.
“In brightest day there will be light, to cleanse the soul, and set wrongs right. When darkness falls, look to the skies. A new dawn comes, let there be light,” you repeat, the words tugging at your gut as your fingers fidget with the new ring.
“Sounds familiar,” Bruce noted, turning his attention back to the Green Lantern.
Hal ran a hand over his face and groaned.
“I don’t get it,” you admit.
“The ring is only part of it,” He begins, unsurely. “It’s powerful, sure, but most of the colored lantern corps need to recharge the ring with a battery. We all have a, how’d you call it, a mantra? Yeah, we all have one. It’s different for each spectrum, and we use it to pull the energy from the battery to the rings, but a white lantern is different, there is no battery,” he explained and your brows furrowed.
“Okay… so how do I recharge?” you asked.
“Through your own energy,” Hal admits and you blink at him.
“What, like draining her own life source?” Jason scoffed.
“Not exactly, it’s supposed to be more like channeling the different emotions into energy for the rings, if done right there should be no negative side effects. But like I stated she’s not prepared, it can take years to learn how to channel your energy the right way, and if she’s not, she could kill herself.”
“That’s not terrifying at all,” you sarcastically assure Hal.
“Hey, I’m not the one who told you to run off!” he countered. “You were irresponsible! And reckless! Honestly, what were you thinking, galavanting off into some crash before the smoke’s even cleared!” he's shouting again and it’s starting to piss you off.
Your fist clenches and then you’re standing up again, “Stop shouting at me!”
Your chest is heaving as you glare at the lantern, but instead of glaring back at you, he’s staring with wide eyes.
“Woah,” Jason's murmur is what pulls your attention.
“What?” you snap, gaze shifting to him.
“Doll,” Jason’s voice was as soft as it’s ever been, “you’re glowing.”
Jason’s eyes were also a bit wide and when you stared down at your hands, you saw that he was right. A sort of white glow seemed to be emanating from your body, in fact it was lighting up the whole cave.
“I- I don’t-” you stuttered.
“This is what I’m talking about, you’re not balancing your emotions!” Hal began again. “You’re letting the Entity take control!”
“Hal,” Bruce finally spoke up, effectively stopping the lantern. He stalked closer to you and a heavy hand came down on your shoulder. You met his eyes and he nodded gently, “take a breath, (Y/n),” he instructed. You nodded and took a deep inhale. “Again,” he told you once you had exhaled, and you followed his instructions.
You repeated the process a few times but you noticed as the light began to fade and your heart rate settled.
He turned to Hal, “Control is teachable, Hal. Curiosity isn’t,” he reminded him.
You stared at Bruce for a second, there were moments when you could see the dad in him showing, and you could never reconcile that version of him with the Bat. They seemed like two completely different people, it was easy to understand Jason’s irritation. Living with someone who could be so different depending on the hour would take a toll on anyone for sure. Your gaze shifted from Bruce to Hal with a furrowed brow, “What Entity?” you press.
“What?” he stuttered.
“You said that the Entity was taking control, what Entity?” you asked.
Hal sighed before finally collapsing in a chair, “The White Lanterns are the physical embodiment of the Entity, which is the power of life itself. White Lanterns are dangerous and unpredictable, Kyle was closest we’ve ever seen to a true White Lantern. But even then, he was a Green Lantern first, and the Entity reverted him back to the Green Lanterns after. You’re wearing the first real White Lantern ring I’ve ever seen. It’s not like the ones Kyle created, and that’s alarming because it just reminds me that there is so much we don’t know about White Lanterns.”
“So you’re saying that the force behind the White Lanterns is life itself, and it manifests as an Entity which has no real form but white light. Which is why it needs me, a ring bearer?” you surmise, squinting at Hal as you put things together.
“Yes,” he nods and you turn back to Bruce.
“What do you think?” you asked him seriously and Bruce just stared at you.
You may not be his biggest fan most days, but there was no doubt that Bruce Wayne was a brilliant critical thinker, and if anyone could help you right now, it was going to be him. “I think the rings choose the wearer. Meaning nothing short of killing you will result in removing the ring’s attachment to you,” he begins and your brow quirked.
“We are not killing her!” Jason interrupted, and the corners of your lips quirked.
“There’s only one thing to do, train,” Bruce agreed with a small smirk.
“Train?” you repeat.
“And who do you think is going to train her?” Hal interrupted.
“I’d expect it to be you, Jordan, or any of your counterparts, though I do feel both you and John Stewart would have better luck when compared to Guy Gardner, Jessica Cruz and Kyle Rayner,” Bruce shot back and Hal’s eyes blew wide.
“Me?” Hal shot back. “What do I know about training anyone?” he scoffed.
“There’s a learning curve,” Bruce shrugged, eyes lingering on Jason for a second.
“Your nonchalance is inspiring,” you muse, eyes darting over to Jason who was now focused on Hal.
“No dead birds, Jordan,” Jason warns, and you almost choke on your responding laugh.
...
a/n: ps: i know i play a little fast and loose with the lantern rules, im open to suggestions!
everything tags: @butterfly-skinnylegend
dc taglist: @batarella @loninctzencarat @escapenightmare @uh-oh-howd-i-get-here
103 notes · View notes
gay-dorito-dust · 2 days ago
Text
Tumblr media
‘What’re you doing chipmunk?’ Jason asked softly when he saw that you had rested your head on his chest, ear pressed over where is heart is as you gradually closed your eyes in order the listen to it beat against your ear.
‘Listening to your heart.’ You responded sluggishly, finding comfort in his warmth, in his presence and his arms that tightened on your waist or the hands that rubbed up and down your back soothingly.
‘Does that old thing still work?’ Jason jokes but the idea that despite he had came back, Jason thought that his heart stayed dead and cold within his chest, rotten and broken like he should’ve been buried six feet underground.
‘It works and more.’ You tell him as you pressed several kisses to his chest before going back to listen to his strong heartbeat in your ear, reminding you that the he was far too stubborn to die, even if he did come back against his own will Jason still made his life his own after a few trips and stumbles. To you Jason had truly come into his own and you couldn’t help but love the man who held you like you were either porcelain, or like you were his personal comfort teddy bear, bringing you so close to his chest you swore you would become one with the heart within his ribcage.
‘It reminds me of me that you’re alive, that you’re here, reminds me that you’re still my Jay birdie.’ You whispered to him as your fingers crawled up his hoodie, caressing the bare skin beneath it as your fingers traced over the autopsy scars that took Jason a while to show you, scars that you loved unconditionally as you did the rest of Jason, peppering the scar on his check with comfort kisses and reassurance of your love for him.
For a man like him you wouldn’t think he was insecure with how he held himself, but he deeply was insecure and conflicted with himself and even thought lesser of himself for it.
‘Corny.’ Jason snorted but his heart never failed to show just how he’d be affected by your words or how his whole body seemed to have gotten just that little bit warmer.
‘’You say that but you love it just as much as me.’ You teased as you felt Jason laugh beneath you, a sound that was light and full of love, of warmth and a sweetness of him that only made him more beautiful in your eyes. Jason kisses your head and smiles into it as he closes his eyes, wanting to stay like this for the rest of his life, to stay with you listening to his heartbeat that he thought was dead for a long while.
‘Yeah I do, yeah I do.’ Jason murmurs in agreement, happy to finally have someone to call home, someone to bring him back from the ledge, and finally someone who wasn’t going to treat him like he was going to snap when approaching tough subjects.
513 notes · View notes
luvrodite · 1 day ago
Text
use your words | jason todd (1185)
cw: f!reader, cunnilingus, penetrative sex, praise, begging note: this is an old piece and my first ever jason smut that i wrote when i was 19 a billion years ago and posted on ao3 and then promptly took down the next morning because i was so shy. have at it! if it's shit build a time machine and yell at my 19 year old self for it <3 minors, blank and ageless blogs do NOT interact you will be blocked.
You’re restless when he comes home to you, almost needy in your movements as your body arches and twists to press every inch of your skin into him. Little sighs escape your lips as you shift, hands skating up his shoulders and looping around his shoulders, leg slotting between his and retracting in favour of hooking over his hip. 
He’s a little amused at all the attention and even more so when a whimper slips forth as his hand comes to rest against your back, effectively holding you still. 
“What’s up, huh?” he murmurs, tilting your chin up to search your eyes and finding your pupils blown wide with desire. “My girl need a little attention tonight?”
You shrug pitifully, pressing your nose into his neck, and laughter rumbles in his chest when he feels you press your mouth against the skin, teeth grazing ever so slightly.
“Please?” The hushed whisper goes straight to his head and he groans into your temple when you tilt your hips. “Please, Jay?”
With great difficulty, he shakes his head. “You know you’re gonna have to do better than that.”
He receives a whine in return. 
“Use your words, angel.”
You want to throttle him when you pull back and see the smug glint in his blue eyes - he isn’t going to be swayed at all by any sort of pretty noises, not tonight. He’s likely riding on some sort of high from a successful meeting with some associate or other, and your boyfriend isn’t coming down any time soon. You know he’ll drag it out even longer if you don’t give in. 
You almost hate him for it. 
Want wins over, as it almost always does, and you lean in. It feels as though you’re laying yourself bare - you soon will be, you suppose - when you tell him, 
“I want you. I need you. I’ve needed you all day.”
The room is stiflingly warm, despite the thin t-shirt you had worn to bed and you feel that heat crawl up your chest and neck, settling on your cheeks. A different kind of heat similarly pools low in your stomach, and you watch a deliciously wicked grin curve his mouth upwards. 
“Tell me what you need, and it’s yours,” he breathes out, mouth skating along your collarbone. “C’mon, sweetheart. What do you want?”
“I…” you hesitate, the words skidding to a halt on the tip of your tongue. Blue eyes stare up at you encouragingly, and you register fingers trailing up under your shirt against your ribs. 
“I want you to fuck me.” It feels as though everything is on fire when the words finally leave your mouth, but he beams, broad and satisfied as he swoops up to capture your mouth with his own. 
“That’s my girl,” comes the murmur, and you just about sag in relief, melting into his embrace as he kisses you. “Such a good girl for me. So fuckin’ pretty.”
He swallows your cries, eclipsing your body with his own and your fingers find purchase on his impossibly broad shoulders. Your t-shirt is tugged up and thrown into some dark corner of the room, a warm mouth pressing against every inch of skin revealed, reverent and something like worship in its touch. The sight of his head between your thighs is nearly enough to make you come undone, and by the huff of laughter that tickles your hip, you know he’s more than aware of it, too.
The first touch has you sure that you’re burning alive, flames licking your skin and your back arches off the bed when he lowers his mouth to you. You’re a live wire under his tongue, squirming, babbling pleas. One hand reaches down to tangle itself in his dark locks, the other gripping his forearm which has settled across your hip to pin you to the bed, nails biting into his flesh in your urgency. He nips affectionately at your thigh and you gasp, stinging mixing with the pleasure in a sensation that’s unexpectedly delightful. You rear off the bed under the quick lashes of his tongue, coming apart at the seams under the attention of his fingers and mouth. 
“You’re so pretty,” he praises, kissing your thighs as you come down, boneless and sinking into the mattress. “So pretty and all mine, aren’t you? Nobody else gets to see you like this, nobody else is half as lucky. No, you’re for me.”
“You’re for me,” you echo back at him and you swear you see his skin redden. You grin, turning your attention to his arm, still flung across your stomach.
“I think I left marks on you,” you whisper, tracing the indents of half-moons you had indeed left on his forearm. He shakes his head, resting it gently on your thigh. 
“The only marks worth having,” he mutters, lips moving over your thighs as he speaks. “Want all your marks. Let everyone know who I belong to.”
“Oh.” Is all you’re capable of in response, and he grins knowingly.
“Don’t think I’m quite done with you, though, angel,” he says and you blink. “No, you’ve got one more for me, don’t you sweetheart?” 
You’re watching him with half-lidded eyes, transfixed by the electricity that seems to flash in his eyes, blue and impossibly bright in the darkness. The sight of a slight sheen on his mouth, of you, has you swallowing, butterflies rampant in your stomach as you tip your chin down in a nod.
The smile you receive in return has you struggling to remember how to breathe.
He coos praise as you take him, whispers of yes, darling and there you go, that’s my beautiful girl, fingers skimming below your waist to find that sensitive spot in tandem with his rocking hips until tears are streaming from your eyes and he’s gasping as you shatter, following soon after. You aren’t sure where you end and the man pressed against you begins, delirious and drunk on his touch. You feel almost flayed alive under his fingertips, every nerve exposed and raw as he caresses you gently, blooming into something rougher, something less delicate and more desperate, but you feel the adoration in every stroke and trace.
After, when your breathing slows and your heartbeat returns to its normal skip, and when the twisted bedsheets are tugged over your body, and when you swallow every last drop of water from the bottle he brings you, he tugs you close, arm resting across your back. Your eyelids droop and your face is relaxed but he notes the lingering smile, sleepy and sated.
“You were so good for me, tonight,” he whispers, kissing your temple, once, twice and then a third time for good measure. “So, so good.”
“Love you,” comes the muffled reply, and he feels a kiss above his heart. 
“I love you,” he returns, squeezing gently. “Dreamgirl.”
You find sleep easily in the arms of the man you love, and the weight of his hand on your back draws you into your dreams, a protective cocoon that chases away any bad dreams. 
It’s bliss.
Fin.
hai bye this is an apology for not having anything to offer besides my yapping lately on this blog. i haven't edited or touched it up so again, if it's shit that's none of my business <3
91 notes · View notes
arkhamsbrat · 1 day ago
Text
“jason knows you better than to assume you’re trying to initiate anything sexual, your expression full of love and care, mixed with almost clinical intentions.” ohhhhhhhhhgghhhhhh my tummy hurts :((((
JASON TODD is constantly in pain.
ever since he came back from the pit, he’s felt like a stranger in his own skin, metaphorically and literally. in a body he was suddenly forced to awake in, the ache in his bones is always there, simmering beneath the surface and pressing into his muscles with every movement.
he never talks about it, but you can see it in the way he rolls his shoulders too often, like he’s trying to work out a knot that won’t go away. you see it in the way his jaw clenches when he’s been sitting for too long in the same position, or how he winces whenever he moves a little too quickly.
at first, you thought it’s was just his mannerisms to be all surly and intense all the time. it isn’t until you catch a flash of pain flickering across his face in the middle of a conversation in which he’s happily talking to you.
after that, it’s all you notice and the only thing you want to do is relieve him of his pain.
tonight is no different, when jason comes home late from patrol and his muscles are stiff and practically seizing. blood stains his knuckles from a particularly nasty run-in with gotham’s lowlifes, but jason doesn’t bother removing his gloves or his boots as he collapses onto the couch with a heavy sigh.
you’re there, as always, waiting for him. you crouch down beside him, reaching out to stroke his hair and he nearly forgets he’s in pain for a split second. the minute he shifts to look at you however, his neck feels like someone’s taken a crowbar to him all over again and he can’t stop his face from twisting into a grimace.
“rough night?” you murmur, chin resting on your arms against the edge of the couch. your voice, soft and warm, cuts through the fog of exhaustion clouding over him.
jason hums in answer, too tired to pretend with you. you hesitate for a moment before standing up and holding out a hand for him to take.
“come on,” you say, tone allowing no room for argument. jason knows better than to protest and he’s already achy, so what’s a couple more steps?
you lead him to the bedroom and he kicks off his boots before entering. you sit him down on the edge of the bed and silently begin to peel off his suit until he’s in nothing but his boxers, as still as a statue depicting a greek god in all his glory. jason knows you better than to assume you’re trying to initiate anything sexual, your expression full of love and care, mixed with almost clinical intentions.
“will you lay on your stomach for me, jay?” you ask, softly. jason would hang the stars in the sky for you if you asked him, but he settles for nodding and climbing onto the bed obediently to lay where you want him.
he feels the bed dipping under your weight as you climb over him to straddle the back of his thighs and he opens his mouth to ask what you’re actually doing. but then your hands are on him and your thumbs are pressing into knots he didn’t even know he had and the question dies on his lips.
jason makes a little sound in his throat as your fingers work on his shoulders, kneading the taught muscles along his spine and neck and drawing out a deep grown from his lips.
despite the years of discomfort, jason begins to melt under your hands embarrassingly fast, huffing out a breath somewhere between a moan and a laugh.
“fuck,” jason mutters, his voice coming out in a low, gravelly rumble and anyone would think you were doing sinful things to him with the noises coming out of him.
“feel good?” you ask, quietly and jason can hear the smile in your voice as your hands continue to relentlessly chase the aching out of his bones.
“yeah,” he practically whimpers, shuddering out a breath as you work on his lower back, one hand continuing to twist as the other reaches up to brush his hair out of his eyes. he didn’t even notice it since he let them flutter shut the second you touched him.
jason feels himself sinking into the mattress, unravelling from within and when he shifts from his position slightly, it isn’t nearly as painful as it was before.
“your hands are fucking magical, angel,” jason breathes out, voice muffled from where his face is pressed into his arms.
you let out a laugh and that, combined with the way the soft pads of your thumbs run against the hard, scarred skin of his back, makes him think he’s died all over again. yet this time, he’s made it to heaven. “nah,” you whisper, leaning down to press a kiss against his spine. “just love you, is all.”
Tumblr media
a/n; sorry idk what came over me writing this. the idea came to me in the form of my own aching muscles. i’m not a vigilante i’m just a brown girl deficient in every vitamin under the sun
641 notes · View notes
sanguineterrain · 3 days ago
Text
the worst day of february | jason todd
Tumblr media
Summary: Cold and defeated on the worst day of February, you stand on your apartment rooftop, contemplating giving up. Then the Red Hood drops in and makes you tea in your apartment.
Pairing: Jason Todd x gn!reader 
Word count: 2k
Warnings/tags: suicidal ideation, disordered eating and sleeping habits, depression, reader doesn't attempt suicide but thinks about it a lot. a sort of hopeful ending. jason being a really really good guy.
please take care of yourselves - don't read this if you think it'll upset you.
divider
Tumblr media
One day in February—it doesn't matter which day; it might be someone else's day too, but it doesn't matter, and it doesn't matter which February either—you realize that you've forgotten how to be happy.
When you think of February, you don't think of much, except that on those big visual calendars of the months that they put up in kindergarten, February is always pink. Pink like an organ. Pink like guts. Pink like love.
But your February—all the Februarys you've had—is blue-gray. It's like someone's cast a moody shadow over your February. It's the director's choice, clearly, to light your February like you're at a wake. It's not your choice. It's never your choice.
Here is the problem. The problem is that you're too scared, but you want the attention of someone who's killed themselves. Shame digs its claws into you at such a perverse thought. But it's true. Even if it's one person who takes a moment to inspect your guts on the sidewalk, or your body in the bathtub, you want them to hold your rigor mortis and say, what a loss. Is there anything I can do?
And then you'd pop up from the bathwater and say, why yes, there is something you can do, would you mind changing the lighting? It's bringing me down.
You're on the roof of your apartment. You don't know why, because as stated, you're too scared. And it's nighttime, and you're a speck of dust, which is comforting at times and haunting at others. Dust on a roof. Easy to be carried off by the wind.
You don't want to die, exactly. You want to rest. No amount of sleep destroys the exhaustion. Instead of marrow in your bones, it's the desire for rest that only comes through death. Unfortunately, despite not wanting to die, death seems to be your only path.
His footsteps are quiet. You don't realize that you're not alone until he's there next to you, hunched over the ledge on his elbows.
You flinch.
"Sorry," Red Hood says, and there's no smoky breath that accompanies his words like they accompany everyone else's. You wonder where the air from his helmet's filter goes.
"It's fine," you say, even though your nervous system is still reeling. It's not fine, because you hate being scared, but it also doesn't matter, so it's fine in that way.
You have a great view from the city up here but appreciating the city is difficult when it's all blue-gray shadows. Your stomach hurts. You've never felt more unbearably yourself in your life.
"Everything okay?" Hood asks.
"Yeah," you say, not bothering to lie. Not bothering to tell the truth either.
"'S cold up here."
"I'm not gonna jump."
"Didn't say you would," Hood says mildly.
"That's why you're here. You think I'll jump, and it's your duty to make sure I don't. But I won't. Too scared. I just wallow instead."
"Wallowing ain't so good either."
"Yeah," you say, throat hurting like you've swallowed a splinter. "Probably not."
An audience would see your funeral-lit life and make the obvious prediction that something bad is about to happen. The director is telling a story, and he's giving hints. You, as the protagonist, are expecting bad things too. Perhaps this is where it starts.
"You live here?" Hood asks.
There should be a curl of fear that strikes you, because Red Hood—terrifying, gangster, born and bred Gotham Red Hood—shouldn't be landing on your rooftop and checking to make sure you aren't gonna spill your guts.
He doesn't seem so terrifying, though. He doesn't seem like a gangster either. And what's wrong with being born and bred Gotham? You like it. Hood is familiar even though you've never met him before. Something about his voice, his stance, the fact that he gives a shit enough to talk to you for a minute. It feels like maybe the universe doesn't want you to kill yourself right then.
"I live here," you say, taking too long to answer.
"Alright," he says. "Lead the way."
You look at him. He's turned around now, facing the roof access door.
"What?"
Hood points a thumb at the door. "Let's go to your place."
"Why?" Why, you ask, instead of the fuck?
"'M thirsty," he says.
Well, if he's here to assassinate you, it won't matter if you bring him to your apartment or not. And now that he's mentioned it, it is cold. Probably because you're up here without a coat. A coat hadn't seemed important when you were in your apartment choking on stale black air.
Maybe you should warn Hood about the stale black air. But you feel like he won't let you return to your apartment if you do.
Hood goes first, leading you back inside. He goes down the stairs slowly, letting you drag and set the pace. It's so stupid. You feel like crying. Why is he going down the stairs with you at your stupid slow pace?
You stop two floors down. This would be another hint to your audience, the fact that you're so close to the roof that you can just climb a couple flights.
You open your apartment. You'd left it unlocked.
"Do you often leave your place unlocked?" Hood asks.
You shrug. "I don't go out enough to get the chance."
Hood doesn't say anything else but he does do the deadbolt when you're inside, as well as the chain lock.
"Shoes off?" he asks. You nod. You both remove your shoes.
Then you stand like you're not in your own apartment. Hood herds you like a sheepdog to your tiny kitchen table. Then he starts opening cabinet doors.
"Got a kettle?" he asks.
You stare at the back of his helmet, your eyebrows knitting. "A kettle? How many Gothamites do you know own kettles?"
"It's the only dignified way to make tea," he says.
Maybe Hood isn't so born and bred Gotham. "Were you raised by British monarchs?"
"Kinda," he says. He evidently gives up on finding a kettle and instead puts water to boil on the stove, even though you have a microwave. Weirdo.
Suddenly, you realize you haven't thought about death for a whole five minutes.
"Got any decaffeinated tea?" Hood asks.
You have a barely opened box of Sleepytime. You point at the top shelf. He hums and retrieves the box, taking out three tea bags to drop into the boiling water.
Hood takes out two mugs. He's surprisingly apt at navigating an unfamiliar kitchen.
He gives you your mug and sits across from you at the table. He's huge at your table, but he gracefully crosses his legs despite the limited space.
"Didja eat?" he asks.
"I had some cereal a few hours ago," you say.
Hood nods. "Fine. But you gotta eat real dinner too."
You don't think it really matters what a corpse-in-training eats, but you nod anyway. Hood's tone invites no deliberation.
"What's your favorite food? Drink your tea."
You scrunch your face and take a hesitant sip. The hot liquid burns your tongue for a moment before you swallow.
"I like pizza," you say. "And burgers. And ramen. But lately, everything tastes like nothing."
You'd tried to find joy in food a few days ago because you couldn't find it anywhere else. You'd torn open a pack of Swedish Fish and shoved the box into your drawer after eating two pieces because it'd tasted like melted plastic to you.
Then you'd bought an expensive brand of chocolate bar, desperate to be happy, desperate to be flooded with dopamine. Nothing. You'd tossed the chocolate, feeling distinctly broken. What monster doesn't find joy in their favorite candy?
You only eat to cure the hunger pains, because you can't take anymore pain. You eat to survive. Not because you want to, but because dying by starvation takes too long.
"That's okay," Hood says. "'S good you're eating."
You scoff. "I don't need consolation."
Hood doesn't give you the satisfaction of an argument. He's going to make you feel alive in a gentler way, even though you don't deserve it. "Drink your tea."
You drink. His mug remains untouched. You feel like you're in a play. This isn't even real tea, it's just colored water. And Hood's stage direction is to not drink his colored water. It's just for show.
You look out the window, expecting to make eye contact with an audience member. You're waiting for the second act. You're waiting for the end.
"I don't want anymore," you say when your mug is half-finished. Trying to finish the tea feels like prolonging the inevitable. The audience wants to go home. They have lives to get back to. They can't live with you and the stage forever.
To your surprise, Hood nods. "Okay. C'mon."
He stands up from the table. You follow him to your bedroom. He pulls open your shirt drawer. You notice the two guns strapped to his hips, two strapped to his ankles, and one bigger gun on his back. You wait for the director's guidance on how you should feel. None comes, so you remain apathetic.
"Choose a shirt," he says. You pick a plain pink t-shirt. Hood closes that drawer and opens your pants drawer. "Choose."
You take a pair of worn pajama shorts because you overheat when you sleep, especially when you're depressed. You're sweaty from your lie-in till two that you took earlier today. Your face is greasy. You're sure your hair isn't nice either.
"Go change," Hood says, walking out of your room. "I'll be outside." He closes the door behind him.
You change, if only out of shock of the Red Hood giving you orders.
"Done," you say, probably too quiet for anyone to hear. But Hood comes in. He looks you over.
"Good." He points to the bed. "Lie down."
You do. Your sheets are gross. They haven't been changed in at least a few months. You're suddenly swollen with shame that anyone, even the Red Hood, is seeing you in this state. Your eyes fill with stinging tears. You should've died before it came to this.
"I'm sorry you had to stop to do this," you say.
Hood's silent for a moment. Then he walks to your side of the bed. He crouches down. His helmet eyes glow in the dark. You've never been less afraid.
This is a plot twist you did not foresee. A new character. A guardian angel. Red in your blue-gray.
"'S not always gonna feel like this," he says.
More tears, more splinters in your throat. "It's felt like this for so long."
"Yeah," he says gently. Gentler than you fucking deserve. "I know."
The writer has overridden the director's wants, and has introduced some new foreshadowing. Should your audience believe it? Or is this a fake-out?
You lie back and want to die a little less. One young woman in your audience chokes up. She believes that you believe you’ll live. She will stay here for as long as it takes for you to make it through act two.
"If you have to go, it's okay," you say.
Hood settles against the wall near your bed. He pulls one knee against his chest. It's almost like you have a friend.
"Nah," he says. "I don't have anywhere to be. I finished my patrol. I'll stay till you fall asleep."
He doesn't ask to stay, and that feels good, not having to make the choice, to face the shame of wanting another person to care about you.
You screw your eyes shut. "Thank you," you whisper.
"I'm gonna bring you a kettle," Hood says.
You laugh. It's small and brittle but it's real. "Okay." You'll have to make it through the night. Red Hood is bringing you a kettle.
You lay there for a long time, not sleeping. You keep your eyes closed. You focus on keeping your breathing even. Then you open your eyes to check.
Hood is still there, sitting against the wall. You wonder if he's fallen asleep too. His voice startles you.
"Still here," he says. "Said I wouldn't go till you sleep. Meant it. Don't worry."
Maybe tomorrow's sun won't be so blue or gray. You fall asleep.
151 notes · View notes