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#jason todd x gender neutral reader
fic-over-cannon · 3 months
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Jason Todd will cockblock himself if he thinks you can’t give 100% informed consent.
A few too many drinks at a gala and you’re drunkenly trying to make out with your gorgeous boyfriend. He’ll stop kissing you once he can taste the champagne on your lips, notices the glassy sheen to your eyes. Jason folds your roaming hands back into your lap and makes you promise to be good. He’ll take you home early and get some water into you before tucking you into bed. He’ll go so far as to sleep on the couch, door open to the bedroom so he can hear if you need him.
Jason remembers what Catherine looked like, coming off of a high and not remembering what day it was. The fear in her eyes and the shake in her voice when she asked if anyone else had been in the apartment.
Jason remembers the early days after the pit. When he’d wake up after blacking out in rage and not remember what his body had done. Seeing the blood on his skin and not knowing where it came from.
Jason never wants you to wake up with that same fearful not knowing. So he’ll sleep on the couch and make sure you’re safe. In the morning he’ll cook you breakfast and kiss you silly. But you’re going to have a talk, the two of you, once you’re sober enough to have a real conversation. Establish boundaries and plan consent for if you do want to fool around if one of you is impaired, or how you want to handle it if you don’t. But it’s not tomorrow yet, and Jason’s tired. He can sleep soundly though, knowing that nothing’s going to happen to you.
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y/n: is that your hand on my ass?
jason: sorry, it was an accident.
y/n: your hand is still on my ass
jason: accidentally
requests are open!
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sanguineterrain · 2 months
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Jason is definitely the type to go feral over his best friend he hasn't seen in years. Hear me out: he's alive again, and not only that, but he's huge. Strong. People are afraid of him. So the reader is in town, walking the streets, and they meet again, maybe when he protects them as Hood. And reader is ecstatic to see Jason again of course and he's the same but also, all he can think is minemineminemine and I WANT YOU. mans is down horrendous for his sweet best friend that he missed and he's been in love with them for so long and now that he has them, he's not giving them up
idk if this was a prompt but i got inspired <3 thanks for stopping by anon
jason todd x gn!reader. feral jason i guess, but really soft jason. jason who yearns to be yours. jason who'd do anything for it, even if it meant one sided devotion... and also, jason who is loved by you. 1.2k words
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"I don't understand why you can't come to my apartment."
"I told you why." Jason's posture is rigid but his tone is gentle. Because he has told you why he won't enter your home. Multiple times. Doesn't mean you don't challenge it every time you meet him on a random rooftop.
"It would be fine, Jay," you say. "I trust you."
"I know. But I don't trust everybody else," he says, words crackling through his modulator. That had frightened you at first; in fact, everything about a newly-resurrected Jason Todd had frightened you. From his height to the guns, you'd been sure that night in Gotham would be your last.
But then it had become clear that cheated death aside, nothing could kill his heart.
"You haven't visited in a while," you say.
You don't mean for it to sound accusatory.
"I know," Jason says. "Been busy. The Bats..."
And you knew. You knew the second you found out that Jason was alive that it would be like this, that he wouldn't be completely yours. He wasn't yours when he was Robin either, perhaps even less so.
And what's wrong with that? You have no right to ask him to be yours. To give you more.
But the recent distance has frightened you. Maybe it's for safety's sake, but your selfish heart wishes that he'd drop that for once.
Then again, there's always that dread in your stomach that perhaps Jason Todd doesn't love you the way you love him. And perhaps he never will.
"Well, I wish you'd call," you say.
This is wrong. You shouldn't be picking fights. Jason doesn't go dark out of cruelty, only necessity.
Jason sighs. "I can't. 'M sorry."
You cross your arms. It's chilly tonight.
"Do you even want to see me?"
He tilts his head. Dangerous.
"What do you mean?"
"I don't want to intrude," you say. "You're busy and all the stuff with B, I don't—I mean, I wouldn't hold it against you if you—"
Jason takes two long strides and closes the distance. You swallow the rest of your sentence as he backs you up against the brick exterior of an abandoned apartment. Your heart picks up. You're not afraid; the fear went long ago. You're just... something. You're something about Jason.
The last time you two hugged was after Willis' death. You'd wanted to wrap him in his cape, thought maybe that would make everything feel as small as he'd been.
Now, a foot taller and a hundred pounds heavier, Jason clearly does not need a cape. Right?
He takes off his helmet, lets it hang on his hand. His other hand is by your head. You lean back, let your neck go on display. Jason doesn't miss the movement.
"What're you doing, Jay?" you ask levelly.
Maybe he thinks you don't notice this distance but you do. You don't want to push him to talk about it, because as upsetting as it is, you're still strangers to each other.
You are and you're not. He died and he didn't. You grieved and you didn't. You burn and... you burn.
But you're tired of being and not being. You won't let him keep you in emotional purgatory. If he's done with you, he should just say so.
"If you don't want to meet anymore," you start, and let the words hang in the air.
"I—" he starts, then swallows. He tosses his helmet to the side. He doesn't touch you, just hovers inches away. Jason smells like lilac and gun smoke.
"I don't think you understand... my devotion," he says, voice low. "How much power you have over me."
Your eyes widen. "Wh—"
His green eyes reflect the streetlight like a cat's. The sight stops you short. Jason Todd is hot metal on a knife's edge, and it would do you well to remember that.
His hands curl into fists. He shakes his head.
"Sorry," he whispers like a prayer. "Not tryna scare you." His chest rises and falls rapidly. "'M I scarin' ya, sweetheart? Tell me and I'll go home, shake it off. Wait forever. I can be good. Won't want what I don't deserve."
"I'm not scared," you say, and it's the most sure you've ever been. "Not scared of you, Jay."
He breathes a laugh, like he can't quite believe you. His breath is warm on your neck.
"You'd be the first," he says. "The only one."
This, you believe. This, you have wondered some nights, knowing that even Batman isn't sure what to do with a son who lives with death on his shoulder.
"You don't have to devote yourself to me," you say, because that makes you pause. Who are you to be his god?
Jason laughs again, strong and sure. He sinks to his knees in front of you. His white streak glows in the light.
"You think it's a vice?" he asks. He rests a hand on your left thigh, testing. You lay your hand over his, so he holds your other thigh too.
He hums. "You do. You think you're holdin' me hostage."
Jason takes a shuddering breath and flattens his palms over your legs. Then he leans in and rests his cheek on your leg, nose near the apex of your thighs. Your belly flips.
"Let's make one thing clear. My devotion is my only redemption. 'S the only thing that makes me believe I'm not all rotted inside. Makes me behave. In this world and the next, I'm yours."
"I... Jason, you belong to yourself, not me. I don't—"
"You don't have to do anything. If it's too much, then I'll disappear. You can carry on."
You stroke the exposed side of his face. He looks up at you.
He is still. You have made him still.
"I'm yours too," you say.
He shakes his head. "You don't hafta—"
"Do you think being yours is a curse?" you ask, gaze sharp.
"Don't promise something for balance's sake," he rasps. "I'll be yours without you being mine."
Your heart is still. He has made it still.
"I'll keep coming back," Jason whispers, eyes wide. "If you're mine, I can't leave. Y'don't know what you're doing. Don't give yourself to me."
"I do. I'm yours."
His grip tightens around your legs. Jason shakes his head.
"Don't do it," he says into your thigh. "I shouldn't have anyone. I'm-I'm only meant to be yours. Nobody's mine."
But you know. You can slide your finger along his teeth and he'll wait with his mouth open. You can touch his edges and he'll turn his cheek so you won't nick your finger. He would sooner chew his own tongue.
"It's alright," you say, and kneel. You dirty your knees right alongside him. "It's okay, Jason. I know what I'm doing."
His breath hitches. Jason presses you into the brick, tucks his face into your neck. His arms wrap tightly around your waist.
"Sorry," he whispers frantically. "'M sorry. You can push me away. Sorry."
"I won't do that." You hold him and let him take you. "I know you're good. I thought—I thought you were pulling away, and I..."
"I was," he admits, muffled in your skin. "'M sorry. Was the only way I could think of to let you go. You deserve better. Couldn't think 'round you, honeylove. Knew it was a death sentence when I found out that you still lived in Gotham."
"It wasn't," you say. "Best thing that's ever happened to me."
Jason huffs. "You say that now, but..."
"No. I say it now and I'll say it again. Keep me, Jason. I'll keep you too."
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dead-sane-stuff · 8 months
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* Damian telling some story*
Jason: That is such bullshit
Damian: NO IT IS NOT
Y/n: Jason, if Damian says it's true then who are we to believe otherwise
Jason: Oh Okay, but no one believes me when I say I beat the last level of Mortal Kombat.
Y/n: Because that's just ridiculous Jason, no one beats Sub-Zero or Kronika
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spidernuggets · 2 months
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stole this thought from my friend 🫶
Jason loves taking showers with you. And not only for the times when he takes the opportunity to bend you over as you lean against the wall.
But he loves the bare skin to skin contact. He loves to remember what you feel like, and he likes to remember your touch. He likes the way you trace his scars that he believes tainted his body while you smeared body wash all over him. You always scolded him that the 3 in 1 shampoo, conditioner, and body wash weren't as effective as advertised.
But you don't see his body as tarnished or ruined. His scars became a part of him. Just another feature that you love. He liked the way his back was turned. The suds quickly slid down the waves of his muscles. The way your index finger traced along the large, healed gash along his shoulder that stopped at where his spine was located.
He shuddered, and his heart raced when you placed a kiss on it. Like you did with every other scar.
This was your ritual.
You'd wait for him to come home to you, and when he did, he'd stench of gunpowder and iron. So you'd strip away his suit, he can finally breathe, his adrenaline dying down, and you drag him along into the shower.
In some nights where he had some extra energy, the late night showers would end with the water being lukewarm and mixed with both of your milky slicks.
But during most nights like these, he absorbs your soft affection, letting your hands roam and explore his body, loosening up the knots in his upper back, massaging his shoulders.
And when he turns back around to face you, his body towering over you as he blocks the water's path down to you, his arm reaches for your sides, hands following down the shape of your figure. His fingers smooth over the water that makes your skin glisten under the artificial light, calloused palms against your smooth hips, gently squeezing them, pulling you closer.
He rests his chapped lips against your forhead, whispering, 'I love you's as you say it back, the sounds of splashing water muffling your confessions.
You always loved showering with Jason right when he gets home. And it isn't only because you get to see him naked under 5 minutes after he comes through your fire escape. But also because you discover new features around him, sometimes in areas where you wouldn't particularly see when he's fully clothes.
There would be a new wound that you wrapped in waterproof bandages before stepping into the shower. But you'd make a mental note to give the new permanently damaged skin as much love, care and devotion as the rest of Jason's body.
You loved showering with Jason because it was an opportunity for you to appreciate him, his body, and the flaws that come with it. It was an opportunity for you to show your endless love for Jason because you know that he needs the constant reminder that someone truly loves him. And to prove the horrible voices that gnaw the back of his head, telling him that he's not good enough that they're wrong.
Because Jason is more than enough. Because you love him as much as he loves you.
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theredhood-jasontodd · 3 months
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Y/N: Did it hurt when you fell- Jason: From heaven? Wow, I didn’t think you were such a flirt- Y/N: No, I meant when you fell down the stairs. Jason: ... Y/N: You just laid there for 15 minutes.
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uc1wa · 6 months
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18+ minors dni
tags: nudes, mentions of penetrative sex
11:24pm jason: when does your class end again?
11:27pm jason: just saw the pictures you took on my phone last night
11:35pm jason: do you want me to call you and pretend that you have an emergency? i’ll say somebody died lol
11:45pm jason: attachment: two images
the class, that was undeniably and exhaustingly lecture heavy, was excruciating to sit in the two days a week that you did. the professor continuing to talk, reading off the powerpoint slides he presented, without a single spare elaboration.
it was exhausting every day that you had to enter the room, and as per usual, your hands had gotten tired and had the mind of their own to find your phone, smiling to yourself as you read the multiple messages from your boyfriend.
the part about him calling you made you laugh to yourself, opening the messages on your phone to view the images he had sent you.
and all too quickly, your eyes widen, heart drops, and phone slams against your desk space a little too loudly. thankfully, in the spacious and filled lecture hall, only the three students that sat near you gave you a look, to which you apologize quietly.
what a blessing it was that you were sat at the end of the row, nobody in the seat directly behind you, because if you angle your phone just right, your eyes have the ability to look at the pictures jason sent you once more. this time with awareness of just what the man had sent you.
the first, a cuter and more innocent looking one. a high angled selfie that make jason’s eyes widen naturally as he looks up to the camera, lip puckered out teasing and jokingly. the angle showing his abdomen that has no shirt covering it. a shadow underneath his pecs that make them look meaty and strong. his abs that he doesn’t have to flex, even in his sitting position protrude, ripple by ripple. his shoulders that are broad and big cover the expanse of background that you presume is desk space.
the picture alone could be saved for later when you get back home, touching yourself under covers. but you have to bring a hand to cover your mouth at the second picture he sent.
you knew what jason’s cock looked like. hell, you could describe in detail how it felt to be inside of you! but the look of it, all hard and begging for attention, does enough to make you squeeze your legs close and close your eyes for a second to bring yourself back to earth. opening to re-examine the photo.
it was lewd how his pre dripped down the sides of his length, milky lines running down along big veins that you had begun to memorize. veins that, when jason bottomed out in you slow enough, you could feel pressing against your walls. his tip that was an angry shade of red, the shade that gave you the knowledge that jason worked himself up just to take this photo for you. the shade of red that showed he had an internal battle with himself to not finish, to achingly take his hands from his cock just to flash a photo to send you as your sat rows of seats in front of your professor.
just as you swipe away from the photo, jason’s continuing to text you. his eyes reading over the read receipt that you’d left him.
12:05pm jason: might enroll in some of your classes next semester for fun
12:06pm jason: sit in the back so nobody sees and finger your pretty self under the table. wouldn’t let you wear underwear btw
12:07pm jason: i know my baby isn’t leaving me on read :(
12:08pm jason: gonna come to your place and fuck you against the window when you get back since you wanna show my cock in front of your whole class
12:08pm jason: your neighbors wouldn’t mind, you think?
the pink on your cheeks doesn’t fade as you continue reading the texts your boyfriend sends you. your eyes widening with every one delivered and heat growing embarrassingly fast in your pants. your fingers begin to find their way against your keyboard, but pause once a longer message finds your phone.
12:10pm jason: gonna fuck you so good that you drool on your window. lol it would be cute if you wore some lipstick too, wanna see how big of a mess you can make. gonna clean it rn just to show you how much of a slut you are for my cock
12:11pm jason: see you soon baby :)
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roses-r-rosie3 · 3 months
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X-Mas list presentation
Batfam x M!Reader
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Summary: instead of making a regular Christmas wishlist, the reader decides to make a whole presentation
Quote: “That is all Family! So open up your hearts and your wallets for me this holiday season”
✁ - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
“Why are you here?” Duke asked Jason.
“Same reason why you’re here, y/n wanted us to all meet up in the living room for some announcement” Jason sighed.
After everyone was in the room, you pulled out your computer and connected it to the Tv, which made everyone confused.
“Hello family, I know you must be wondering why you’re all here” you said.
“Yes”
“Yup”
“Mhm”
“Yeah”
“Can I go back to my game now?”
“Last year you guys totally fucked up Christmas, so this year I put together an entire presentation to tell you guys what I want specifically” you smiled.
Everyone in the room let out an audible sigh/groan. It was known by everyone in the family that you were very dramatic from time to time (24/7). But they never thought you would get this extra!
“Is that really what you called us here for?” Damian grumbled.
“Would you shut up for a second?” You snapped.
“Y/n I don’t think that’s how you should be talking to your little bro-”
“Anyways, Here’s the things you should keep in mind when you’re thinking about what kind of gift you will provide for me this year” you said as you interrupted Bruce from his lecture.
“First of all, I’m the only one who knows how to reset the Wi-Fi, and yeah that’s threat” you threatened.
That certainly got everyone’s attention.
“Secondly, if you don’t get me what I want I will get a sugar daddy, I don’t even care what you guys are going to say, I’ve had so many offers for sugar daddies that it’s unreal. The perks of being son of Bruce Wayne I guess” you said.
“Y/n, you do know that Bruce is rich right?” Jason asked.
“Not the point” you mumbled.
“And third if I don’t get what I want, I will also sell my feet pics online like I did last year” you said calmly.
“YOU WHAT?!” Bruce shouted
“Calm down, I only ended up making about 1 million from it” you sighed.
“ONLY?!” Dick gasped.
“I created a three tier system of different gifting levels, basically, the levels equivocate to how much you love me and how much money you have” you explained.
“Level one is the ‘I’m going to need therapy level’ which is only four to seven gifts. I would probably go into a depressive spiral, actually not probably, I definitely would be depressed” you said.
“Would you stop being so overdramati-”
“I’M NOT DONE YET” you said as you interrupted Tim.
“What would that mean for us? You may ask. It would mean that you would have to pay for my therapy. And the money that you guys spent on therapy would have been basically wasted, you could’ve bought me a whole bunch of gifts right now and avoided the situation” you smiled.
“I think that he’s lost his mind” Bruce whispered to Stephanie.
“You think?!” Stephanie whisper yelled.
“Level two is the ‘You’re getting warmer package’ This basically if you love me- Bruce can you stop whispering to Stephanie” you scolded.
“As I was saying… Level two is eight to fifteen gifts, which is basically equivalent to you texting me happy birthday” you continued.
“Level three is the ‘You’re sleighing it’ level. And if you remember, you guys were just a bit off the mark of hitting this because you guys only got me twenty three gifts. And in order to reach ‘You’re slaying it’ you have to get me twenty five or more gifts, I think this is totally do-able for you guys, especially because you can just use Bruce’s card if you guys are running low on money” you said.
“I have tons ideas for you guys and this whole slideshow is already in your email so you guys can look at it and reference it at any time” you smiled.
Everyone quickly checked their phones to see that you indeed emailed them your whole presentation.
“That is all Family! So open up your hearts and your wallets for me this holiday season” you smiled before leaving the room.
“Yeah he had definitely lost his mind” They all said in synchronization.
“I HEARD THAT!”
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jaysgirlx · 19 days
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Hey sweetie, I’m feeling like I need a Jason fic where reader doesn’t like to be touched but he makes her feel safe enough that she gets used to him. Would that be something you’d write? I hope you’re having a wonderful day/night 😘😘
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jason wasn't exactly a touchy man himself, he'd set a lot of boundaries as he grew older but he felt different when that came to you. he had the urge to want to hold you constantly but he quickly learned you weren't fond of that. there were too many mental scars that had yet to heal.
the two of you had been sitting side by side on his couch and he slyly tried to put his arm around you. you flinched and moved away quickly, and then came the word vomit.
"i'm sorry! it's really not cause of you- It's hard for me to- i just cant- it's okay if you don't want to hang out again after this, i just- i'm sorry!"
you were panting and trying to explain yourself because this wasn't his fault, this was a boundary you probably should've said earlier but you didn't. you were scared of losing jason too quickly because of your own issues but you were an idiot for thinking he'd leave like that. he was much better than that and he showed you exactly how.
when jason first realized that you weren't yet comfortable with him touching you he tried his best to make your dates and hangouts still romantic. instead of cuddling, he'd put pillows in between the two of you and you'd lay on them almost as if you were on him.
or when you two went out for walks he learned to wear long-sleeved shirts so you could hold onto his sleeve rather than his hand. it did take time to get used to but jason didn't see it as a burden he saw it as another way for him to show his love for you.
he found you the cutest when he'd be kissing you and you didn't know where to put your hands so you'd panic and grab onto his clothes. he knew you wanted to touch him but he wanted you to feel safe enough to make that first move and you eventually did.
"i swear it's not you or anything i just not comfortable being touched yet…i've had things happen to me and i just need time to feel a bit safer"
jason understood how you felt and respected it. he'd wait years if he had to, as long as you were with him, he didn't need much more. though your comfortability came much sooner than he thought.
it started off small like when you began to slyly slip your fingers into his and hold his hand. he won't deny that he actually blushed a little especially when you kissed him on the cheek goodnight. he knew he was probably touch-starved but he didn't realize how much he was missing without your touch.
you even started cuddling him during your movie nights and laying your body on his. and it was then that jason knew you felt comfortable with him. you finally felt safe.
things moved on a bit fast after that, your very gentle make-out sessions with jason became rough and needy. you'd dig your nails into his back while deepening each kiss more. your hands are roaming his back, trying to figure out what feels good, or what feels right but jason doesn't care. that fact that you're touching him is all that matters. that fact that you're comfortable is all that matters.
did jason dream of touching you constantly? absolutely! but would he have waited centuries to do so? only for you.
jason was in love with who you were and being able to touch you had nothing to do with that. this man fell in love with your personality and the love you were willing to give him and that was all he wanted.
"m'sorry for making you wait so long jaybird" you whispered while jason lips were busy kissing and biting your neck. he left a train of hickeys, hoping you wouldn't be too mad once you'd seen them, since you were quite focused on your current conversation "i know i'm a lot of work"
"good thing i'm a hard worker sweetheart," he said, while placing a hand on his hip and gently caressing your waist with his thumb. jason had started doing this,whenever he could tell you were overthinking or maybe overwhelmed. he was good with words but he knew how to soothe you "as long as you comfortable baby, then that's all i need"
you were all jason todd needed, he’d never admit it but he could love you from afar and still be happy because you'd be his and to jason that was all that was he really wanted.
for you to happy and safe with him.
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freakingholland · 1 month
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"Cold cloths, warm hugs" Jason Todd x gn!reader
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A/N: My first ever Jason x reader fic whaaat! I have such a soft spot for this guy ugh <3 also this is so fluffy and silly, I'll see myself out!
Warnings: not proofread, swear words, Jason is feeling unwell so a mention of headaches? use of painkillers
Summary: You and Jay have a night off, what could possibly go wrong? (fluff, hurt/comfort-ish)
Word count: 850 +
If you enjoyed my work: Ko-fi.com/freakingholland
questions/requests/ideas here! - rules here
masterlist (needs a proper update)
-
You were in the middle of watching some kind of lighthearted show on your night off. Jason had a night off as well, the two of you had been sitting on a couch and simply enjoying each other’s presence. Jason had been reading a book curled up next to your tucked figure, as your back was leaning against the opposite arm of the couch. Unexpectedly his reading session got disturbed. At least you thought so since he had gotten up from the couch, tossed his reading glasses aside on the coffee table and went to the kitchen without a word. At least 5 minutes had passed, and he didn’t return.
“Hey- you alright in there?”
-
“-Yup, just a sec.”
He didn’t sound very convincing. His response seemed wavering, and it was enough to make you a bit wary. As you didn’t want to possibly annoy him with your raised voice, not knowing the problem yet, instead of shouting from the sofa, you went to check on him.
His head was hanging low as he was standing with his hands resting on the counter. There was an unscrewed bottle of painkillers and a now empty, wet glass. You went behind him and put your hand on the small of his back.
“What’s going on baby?” Your heart ached at the sight.
“--Headache.” He whispered through gritted teeth. His tone made you uptight.
“I- I- gotta lie down.”
“-can you get me a cold-- towel? Please…” He spoke quietly while turning to go to your bedroom. Your hand dropped to your side.
“Course. You’re nauseous?”
He slightly leaned on the doorframe before going further away from you. He shut his eyes as the light hit his face when leaving the kitchen.
“Yeah…”
He then faltered to rest up.
“Shit.” You cursed under your breath putting your head in your hand when he left.
You were hoping that you’d have a calm evening for once, you deserved to have it. It’s been a while since something bothered Jay to that degree, whether it was a patrol injury or sickness, and the fact that he was hurting on his day off made you genuinely irritated.
On the positive side – at least he didn’t try to hide the fact that he was feeling unwell. He also asked for some help without much frustration. It took months to get to this point, but encouraging Jay to open up and communicate more has been paying off. Grief-stricken conversations still happen every so often. Hell, it would be beyond belief if they weren’t happening considering the extent of past trauma that Jason has suffered through.
But his mental health really did improve over the months of you two dating.
You put on the kettle to make him a nice warm cup of tea. With the help of a stool, you managed to find his old but beloved wonder woman mug. It took some digging in your cabinet that really needed a proper cleanup. When the tea had been made you moved on to rummage through your closet to find a cloth for a cold compress. Placing three cubes of ice in between the layers was enough to make the cloth cold.
“Babe did you drink cof—“ you stopped halfway through your whispered question when you were walking into your shared bedroom.
You suddenly stopped in your tracks realizing your possible mistake. Jay was already dosing off, curled under a blanket. His lips were slightly parted. There was a noticeable change in his posture, there was less tension within his upper body, his arms seemed more relaxed than before. You didn’t think he would be falling asleep this fast, but you figured the headache must have been bad and that the painkillers actually started to kick in.
 The sight made you sigh as you you’ve been unnoticeably holding in your breath. You tiptoed to his bed side table and put down his mug of steaming tea. You then carefully kneeled down next to the bed in order to place a compress on his forehead without startling him too much. You gently pressed it onto his skin, making sure to place it slightly over his eyelids.
“That feels so nice.” He muttered.
“Shhh ignore me and go to sleep.”
“I don’t wanna ignore you--, come here.”
You stood up and walked around the bed. Before joining Jay, you opened the window to let some fresh air into the room.
“Baby please…”
“’Kay ‘kay I’m coming.”
You carefully crawled under his blanket and big spooned him.
“You know what? I can already feel the headache going away just cause you’re hugging me.” He continued verbilising his loopy thoughts.
“Oh yeah? It must be some kind of magic.”
“Yeah, it’s Y/N’s magic.”
“Just don’t tell on me. Peeps might burn me at the stake.”
“Fuuuuuuck no I wouldn’t let them.”
“Oh, I know you wouldn’t big guy. ” you said running your hand through his hair.  
Jay rolled to his side to embrace you in a hug. He nuzzled his face into your chest and sighed with relief.
“JACE that’s cold! Stop it!” you winced and laughed as the compress touched your warm skin.
“It wouldn’t feel so cold if you weren’t so hot.”
“I think we gotta check your temperature…”
-
Stay whelmed xx Tori
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writers-block246 · 1 year
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Jason: wow, you said you want me to die a second time??
Y/N: I literally said that I can’t “crush you with my thighs” because I have to go to work.
Jason: yeah? That’s what I said.
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fic-over-cannon · 1 month
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The first time Jason Todd pulls you close, one broad hand slipping around the soft expanse between the bottom of your ribs and the solidness of your hip bone, he’s pulling you out of the path of a bike courier going too fast for a crowded street. His thumb brushes imperceptibly over edge of a rib, the warmth of his skin burning through the thin fabric of your shirt. He doesn’t let go as quickly as he should have, as quickly as a friend would, surprised by how much he likes having you pressed close, the hand around your waist a reassurance.
He takes whatever chance you’ll give him though, to settle his large palm on the slope of your waist. Soft featherlight touches to help guide you through the worst of crowds, little taps to let you know he’s arrived when you’re too busy to say hello. You catch on quickly, thread your fingers through his and guide his hand to where it should be while he’s playing nice at one of the insufferable Wayne galas. The way he stutters over a sharp inhale at the feel of the skin warmed silk of your side is oh so satisfying.
It becomes a habit for the two of you, and as it does, he gets a little bolder. His hands slip under your shirts, at first the palm scrunching up the fabric and pinning it in between you. As he grows more comfortable, emboldened by your trust, that final barrier disappears. It’s just the burning skin of his bare hand holding you close, the broadness of it comforting. At night when it’s just the two of you, he’ll pull you down to lie on top of him, his arm slung across your back, fingers tracing swirls into the tender skin of your side.
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y/n: i like jason, thoughts?
tim: and prayers, girl what
Requests are open!
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sanguineterrain · 7 months
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window pains | jason todd
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Summary: He's got a habit of coming in through the window. You want him to start staying... and using the door. 
Pairing: Jason Todd x gn!reader 
Word count: 1.6k
Warnings/tags: injured Jason Todd (he's okay dw), angst, pining, mentions of Jason's death.
A/N: sooo.... i guess i'm a dc girlie now. just a reminder that every character i write will always be 18+!!! this is probably canon divergent but we make our own canon.
If you like this fic and want to see more, please let me know through reblogs ♡
the divider
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"Can't you enter my apartment like a normal person?"
"You know who you're talking to, right?"
"You're getting blood on my carpet, Todd."
It doesn't really matter. He'll come back and scrub it out as soon as his ribs are whole. And fuck if he's not good at getting blood out of surfaces. Jason Todd ought to start a housekeeping column. 
You catch his limp as he climbs over the windowsill. It almost topples him, but he gets to the couch before it does. He doesn't make a sound. 
That had freaked you out the first few times he'd stumbled through your window. Once, he came with part of a windshield wiper impaled in his shoulder. He'd lain on your couch so still and so quiet, you'd thought Red Hood had croaked in your apartment. Which would not have been a good look for you. Or maybe it would. Depends on who you ask. 
Sometimes you want to tell him to make sounds. To hiss and grunt and complain. To grab your wrist so you'll slow down as you pull thread through flesh. 
But it's not your place to request such a thing. You don't know where you reside in Jason Todd's life, but it's not somewhere where you can request to hear him hurt. 
Outwardly, his injuries aren't bad-looking. He takes off his helmet and tosses it somewhere under the coffee table. You offer a hand to help him lie down on the couch—he doesn't take it. 
"Jesus Christ, Jay." You suck in a sharp breath and peel back his bloody suit. "What'd you do?"
"Took a midnight stroll in the Botanical Gardens. Why, what'd you do?"
You frown, eyebrows pinching in the center of your forehead. Jason's stomach is mottled with purple and red bruises. There's a sticky gash right above his hip. A knife. Or a sword, maybe. Apparently, swords are commonplace in Gotham. 
"How'd they get you?" you ask. 
It's a rule-break. Jason's number one policy: don't ask questions.
You always do. Even when it was new, this… thing between you two, you'd ask. Who were they? Why did they hurt you? Did you hurt them back?
The last one, you always know the answer to. 
"There were, like, ten of them," he says. "Cut me some slack, will ya?" 
He has a cut across his lips. A ringed finger that caught on his skin, you guess. You wonder if he'd wince if you kissed him. If he'd wince at the pain or the kiss itself. If you'd know the difference. 
Rage suddenly cuts through you. It makes your hands careless, cruel; you pull the bandage around his waist too tight. Jason coils up slightly. 
"Jesus—ever heard of bedside manner?" he asks, looking at you through his lashes. 
"Ever heard of not breaking into someone's apartment and making them patch you up?"
"I don't make you," Jason says easily. "You wouldn't do it if you didn't want to."
That only increases your rage. Because he's right. You wouldn't be here if you didn't want to be. You'd have kicked him out four first aid kits ago if you minded. 
You yank down his shirt and pack up the kit. Jason shifts on the couch. A sliver of skin above his waistband is still exposed. You have to turn your head to force your gaze away. 
"No bandaids?" he asks. "All my cuts'll be exposed to the elements."
"You can put them on yourself." 
His cheek could use one. And his eyebrow. You're not in the mood. 
Jason doesn't say anything in response to that. You get up to put the kit back under the sink. 
"Can I crash here?" 
"Do what you want," you say, suddenly exhausted. Like it's you who just went six rounds with Gotham's scumbags.
You peek over the kitchen counter when you hear rustling and the couch springs squeak. Jason leans heavily on the arm of the couch, reaching for the window. You walk over and stand in front of him. 
"What're you doing?" you ask. 
"You want me to go," he says flatly. "So I'm going."
"I didn't say that, I said—"
"I can read between the lines." 
"If you could read between the lines as well as you think you can, we wouldn't be in this situation," you say. 
"What situation?"
You turn your head. "Nothing."
Jason steps towards the window. You block him again. 
"What is the matter with you?" you ask. "You're injured. Lie down."
"I'm not your responsibility," he says, glaring. "I'm leaving."
"No, you're not. And since you're allergic to using the door, you don't have a choice."
Jason's eyebrow rises. "Are you saying you'd physically prevent me from leaving?"
You lift your chin. "If that's what it takes."
"Hm. Can't tell if your confidence is stupid or brave."
"Lie the fuck down, Todd."
His lip curls. "I don't stay where I'm not welcome."
Sometimes you forget how young he is. Not that you're not also young, but, well… you don't feel your youth as acutely as other people your age might. It's something you two have in common. 
Here, in the gritty glow of Gotham, you are reminded that Jason Todd died once. Before he finished school. Before he fell in love. 
Your stomach churns every time you see that Y-shaped scar on his torso, strapped over him like a chain. 
"I didn't say that you're not welcome," you say. 
"Yeah, well, you didn't have to."
He sags against the couch and it occurs to you that he's as exhausted as you feel. 
"Can you just—" You touch his bicep. He winces even though there's no injury there. "Can you just lie down?" 
You stare at each other for another minute. Slowly, Jason lays down. His eyes are alert instead of heavy with sleep. Instantly, you feel guilty for making him think he has to be cautious around you. His hand curls protectively over his stomach. 
"Do you want a blanket?" you ask. 
He squints. "It's August."
"I know, I… I thought maybe the blood loss made you cold." 
"'M fine. Perks of being risen from the dead." 
You watch him get settled for a minute. He shifts his weight to his uninjured side and meets your gaze. His eyes are gray in the weak light. 
"You're tired of me," he says. 
Your head snaps up. "No, I'm not."  
"You are."
"I'm not tired of you, Jay."
You see it. The fear. He thinks this is the last time you'll let him in. He doesn't know you can't lock him out. You won't. 
You get up and go to get the kit from the sink again. Jason follows your movement the whole time. His face scrunches in confusion when you sit in front of the couch and unzip the kit. 
You pull out the tiny red bandaids. You'd bought them as a joke, initially. It had made Jason laugh and that had been reason enough to keep buying them. And then he let you actually put them on.
You peel the adhesive off of one and gently stick it on his cheek. He blinks at you, thick, dark lashes kissing the corners of his eyes. 
"I'm not tired of you," you say softly. 
"I'd be tired of me." 
"You keep this city safe. How could I be tired of Gotham's defender?"
Jason scowls and turns his head into the cushion before you can put the second bandaid.  
"I'm not its defender. The others protect this city a hundred times better. Nightwing does it with a smile on his face."
"I like that you go out there even when it's hard, Jay," you say. 
He doesn't respond. You lean in, so close that you can count the freckles on his neck. 
"Can I finish putting the bandaids on?" you ask. 
"I don't need 'em."
"You do. You need another on your forehead."
"It'll heal fine without it."
Your shoulders bunch like a cat on defense. You grab his cheek (gently, always gently) and his head whips to yours in surprise. 
"Jason Todd, I am not tired of you. I'm tired of the fact that you only come by when you need fixing."
He scowls. "I never asked you to fix me. If you want me to leave, I'll leave."
"I don't want you to leave, I want you to stay!" you burst. 
Jason scoffs. "No, you don’t. I'll overstay my welcome real fast."
"Maybe I care about you on purpose!" you say, voice rising. "Maybe I didn't stumble through a window; maybe I walked through the door and bought the bandaids and learned how to stitch wounds because I wanted to."
He suddenly looks overcome by grief. The agony in his face startles you. 
"I don't know how to use the door anymore," he says quietly. "All I do is stumble through windows."
Your hand slips off of his cheek. Jason closes his eyes; they fly open when you stick the second bandaid above his eyebrow. 
"You can come in any way you want to," you say, face an inch away from his. "As long as you come back to me."
His gaze darts to your mouth. You don't kiss him hard. He breaks anyway.
You avoid the right side of his mouth entirely, not wanting to pull at his cut. Jason shudders into your mouth. You cup his pulse through his neck and it quickens.
His eyes are wet when you pull away. His chest heaves like he's been swinging through the city. 
"I wanna try to use the door," he says. 
You touch the bandaid on his cheek, humming. 
"Then I'll leave it unlocked." 
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peaches-creek · 3 months
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Random Jason Todd headcanons i think of when working.
Has a big ass fish tank with all sorts of fish named after all his favorite characters in the book and has 4 tetras named after the march sisters
Has a hair care regimen
Is more nervous introducing you to Alfred than anyone else in his family, not because he’s worried about him not liking you, no, he’s worried about all the pictures Alfred took of Jason in his awkward phase
Has dark grey t-shirt textured sheets
Listens to asmr to sleep on hard nights
Is the little spoon most of the time
Likes tobacco and sweet cologne scents rather than musky
Likes to have at least one body part on you as you read together
Damian, Alfred, and Jason have a book club
Takes you and Damian to the zoo
Hates country music (sorry)
Prefers tea over coffee but likes americanos
Likes when you are in the passenger seat
Wants to name his son sam after samwise ganged
Likes to play board/card games with you and Alfred
If you guys have a place together he likes to buy plants with you and call them your children, and when you guys get into arguments he will (in good fun and to be an asshole) say “you are certainly not talking to me like this in front of the CHILDREN.”
Knows how to knit and sew
Favorite type of dates are the ones you spend quality time just enjoying eachothers presence like you could just be sitting on the couch watching tv or reading and those are such calming moments to Jason
Likes when you play with his head before bed
Loves the show Yellowstone, imagines himself as a cowboy
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spidernuggets · 24 days
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Hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhjtjfiadhus my brain just said how Jason would react to his S/O kissing down his chest, but specifically kissing down his y incision. He might hate it. It might turn him on. My brain is going feral and I need it—
Somewhere in the middle of your relationship, where Jason was getting comfortable being more open with you, he allowed you to see and touch his scars. Obviously, it took him a long while for himself to accept that these scars are permanently on him, in contrast to you immediately accepting every inch of him the moment he revealed his bare skin to you.
It took a longer while for him to let you lightly graze your fingers along his scars. And when the two of you began to become sexually intimate with each other, he'd guide your hands as to where he's okay with you touching.
You really didn't mean to trigger him when you were straddling his lap with your hands resting along his jaw, initiating a long and slow make-out session with him, who was shirtless, on your couch. Then your hands went down to hold his neck, your lips following suit.
You were just too in the moment when your kisses quickly moved to where his large autopsy scar started.
That's when Jason jolted with a big flinch, his reflexes making his hands move from your waist to your shoulders, pushing you back, harder than he'd meant to.
He stutters a quiet string of apologies, lifting you off his lap and walking to your shared bedroom in a hurry. A pang of guilt slapped you in the face, immediately regretting to contain your neediness.
You wanted to follow him to apologise, but you knew he needed some time alone. So you stayed on the couch, continuously picturing the horrified look on his face. You wanted to cry, but it wasn't about you. It was about Jason. You knew his boundaries, and you crossed them.
A few hours in, you were still on a couch, now with a cup of lukewarm coffee in your hands, patiently waiting for Jason to come out so you can apologise.
So when you heard the creak of the door opening, your posture straightened and put the coffee onto the table in front of you.
You waited for Jason to say something as he sat beside you, now with a long sleeved shirt on.
"I'm sor-" You quickly cut off his apology.
"Don't you dare say that, Jay. It was my fault. I knew where you drew the line and- and I crossed that line. I didn't mean to- I really didn't, I just-"
It was Jason's turn to interrupt you as he gently took hold of your chin, locking your lips with yours.
"I forgive you," he mumbles through the tender kiss.
A month or two later, when you entered the front door after a long day of a morning shift at work, you heard a bang coming from the bedroom in which you quickly ran towards it, only thinking of the worst that could happen with Jason.
When you opened the door, a trashed room was revealed. Clothes dishevelled on the floor, the knick knacks from your windowsill were knocked over, and the full-length mirror was slightly cracked.
Standing in front of the mirror, Jason stood, only in his boxers, his face was red, his nose was runny, and his eyes were bloodshot. But what stood out the most were the red lines over his body, particularly over his scars, to what you assumed were harsh scratch lines, coming from his own fingertips.
You dropped all your things and took one step forward, testing to see if he's let you come into close contact with him, which he usually doesn't. This case, it might've been serious because he whimpers your name, failing an attempt of trying to reach out to you as his hands just fall limp to his sides.
You quickly rush over to him, holding his face in your hands, wiping away his thick, salty tears.
You can hear the barely audible whispers of self insults from him. "I'm hideous." "I'm a monster." "How could you love me?"
You shsuh him by gently pushing your lips to his dry ones. You then ask a "Can I?" In a hush whisper, referring if you can touch his scars.
In hesitancy, he nods a slow yes. You start off easy. With his hands. A long scar that went over his hand, just stopping at the wrist. You gave it a kiss. Followed by the scar next to it. You do the same with his other hand.
Slowly, you finish kissing the scars that cover his arms. You do the same to the ones scattered all over his body. His knees, his thighs, his calves, his spine, his lower back, his shoulders.
You saved the big and most obvious one for last. His autopsy scar. Before your lips came into contact, you started with your fingers. You traced the Y shaped burden, drawing a few imaginary hearts and stars here and there.
The only thing stopping Jason from proposing to yoh right now was the lack of a garnet ring. He absolutely adored you, thinking how an angel like you can even love, let alone touch someone like him.
He then broke down, more tears cascading his face when the first kiss landed on the right side of his chest. But this time, he didn't push you away. When you looked up to see if you could continue, he gave you a slight nod. You gave him a small smile and continued your journey down his torso.
For the first time in an incredibly long while, probably since he first got adopted and became Robin, he felt loved. He felt wanted. And that was all you.
You lifted yourself back up. Jason's tears had dried. You lean your forhead to his. You whisper to him how much you love him. How much he means to you. How much he deserves to be loved.
And from that moment, Jason let you love all of him. He let you look at him, and he let you touch him. And from that moment, little by little, Jason started to love himself too.
It was another while before yoh and Jason initiated more sexual advances. But when you did, it was back on the couch, back to you straddling his lap, back to him shirtless and back to a slow make-out session.
It was back to your lips trailing down his jaw and onto his chest. When your lips touched his autopsy scar, you could've sworn on your mother's grave that you heard a whine out of him.
You looked up and saw his head thrown back, as well as his eyes rolling to the back of his head.
Your suspicions were confirmed when he whimpered a "Please, baby. Please, give me more," in which you happily complied.
Your kissing travelled every inch of the large scar, including smaller ones scattered along his waist, meeting up to the messy, black happy trail that led to his waistband.
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