#just... domestic Jason Todd...

[gingerschnaps]

stealing Jason's helmet and being a tad grossed out because it's kinda damp and sweaty and a bit large on you but you can't help admiring yourself in it.

you test the voice modulator and say the most stupid shit and eventually you start mimicking the lines you heard Jason say sometimes when he's in Red Hood mode, all that to say you were fairly distracted. So you didn't even notice you never actually know how to take it off.

Luckily your boyfriend is near, and while helpful and ever so lovely, he's also amused and slightly mean about how you managed to get yourself stuck on things like a cat who got it's claw's stuck to the curtains and had the audacity to look mad when you try to help them.

Once he got the helmet opened up however, he leans down with that same amused smile and that sparkle in his eyes that holds so much unspoken affection before kissing you, it was a soft, chaste peck, barely enough and yet so sweet, it's almost enough to soothe your bruised ego.

well, you don't mind getting stuck on stupid things as long as he keeps kissing you.

[roppiepop]

is a dream a want

[fcthots]

omg hi babe i hope you’re doing well!! glad to see you’re back. i’ve been having a lot of thoughts lately concerning jay and fall bc this time of year gets me in some kind of mood, y’know what i mean? i usually like smutty shit but rn i just wanna make out with him in a cozy bed with an open window that lets in a cool breeze. and maybe a nice candle burning somewhere in the room. and then i want to fall asleep. like that’s all i can think about.

-🪲

Ughhh sameeeee

Like I think he (minus the whole scarecrow thing) gets pretty excited for a the fall season. Like at some point during October, you’ll walk through the door into your apartment and Jason is sitting on the couch watching Coraline. The room smells like fall and you see a candle burning by the tv. He looks over at you and greets you before tapping his thigh. You drop all your shit on the counter and walk over to where he’s chilling on the couch. He tugs you down and puts your head in his lap so you can still see the screen but he also has access to your hair so he can run his fingers through it. Every so often, he looks down from the movie and kisses your forehead. Eventually you’ll fall asleep, and he’ll just queue up another movie, letting you rest and watching you with all the love and affection in the world.

[s-darling-art]

This is as finished as this piece is ever gonna get so here ya go

[hxad-ovxr-hxart]

when you want husband fics but they all include kids 😭

[muuuumin]

Tim: Have you gotten everything for this week's groceries, Jay?

Jason: :) even better! :) I got something new! :)

Tim: .....

Tim: It better not be another dog, Jason.

Jason: His name is Soup.

[lazaruswitch]

wish I could draw more and better. I would like to show the visions of Lily. so many people would hate her because they're bigots or they hate Jason Todd in any capacity which kinda overlaps a bit ngl but ugh. the ones who could get it would get it

anyway like imagine after a few years since the sort of vacation where you accidentally ran into your older brother (who was not aware you were alive, let alone now a married(?) Muslim woman with a kid) who insistently has kept contact and checks in on you (secretly, upon your request) you finally feel kind of ready to try toeing the line of comfort and invite your brother over for a meal at your actual literal home while your little daughter is there too (she's more than meets the eye but you haven't actually broached the topic with your brother yet so as far as he's concerned you're dramatically overprotective and your daughter is no more of a weirdo than the average bloodthirsty kindergarten girl. the magic shit can come later. way later if you have anything to say about it.) and it doesn't go badly but it wasn't amazing in fact it was a pretty careful and awkward experience but your daughter is obviously fascinated with her uncle she barely knows except from your stories and your brother is obviously amused by her not to mention pleased that you're opening up a bit more in your own way and you let them sort of hang out and get to know each other on their own whilst you tidy up and while you're finishing up with washing the dishes you hear a loud crash and a gasp and oh fuck what the fuck happened what the fuck did they do

[alcorianight]

A big part of why I like Jason is probably just second sibling solidarity.

[hutaosfuneralparlor]

smitten! jason todd who never thought he was a domestic person until u started coming over more to his place

smitten! jason who always buys you favorite snacks for when u come over 'cause he loves how happy you look eating them

smitten! jason who will literally watch any show or movie with you even if he despises it as long as he gets to cuddle you

smitten! jason who makes u breakfast whenever u stay the night at his place and brings it to you in bed

smitten! jason who started investing more in things for his little apartment to make it more comfortable for you

smitten! jason who enters in a crisis trying to figure out the best time to ask you to move in with him

smitten! jason who loves having you with him in the kitchen while he cooks even if it's to just talk to him

smitten! jason who adores your company no matter what he is doing

smitten! jason who is over the moon when you agree to move in with him

smitten! jason who always loves coming home to you after missions

smitten! jason who is completely and utterly in love with you

reblogs and reposts are highly appreciated !

[apatheticsunday]

Dead on Main Sugar Daddy

AKA "Ghost King Danny unintentionally becomes Jason "Gaslight, Gatekeep, Girlboss" Todd's sugar daddy" prompt!

This is kind of a continuation of Graveyard Favors, but not really lmao.

I just love the idea of Jason coming back from the dead, wearing all Expensive Clothes and literally ancient cursed jewelry, and Bruce is just like, "Where did you get that? I didn't buy it for you. You haven't used your allowance either?" And Jason's obviously not going to admit he has the High King of Infinite Realms, Space, and the Dead as a sugar daddy. (Maybe he would, he's a dramatic theatre kid at heart, but it's funnier if he just straight up lies.)

He says, "I'm literally a crime lord, old man, keep up?? Jesus."

But the more he thinks about it, the more he actually likes the idea. Jason wants to help people, make sure they never experience the same fate he did, and where else to do it than the place he grew up? He knows there are tons of kids he can help, families who have a lack of resources. He's not afraid to get his hands dirty - he's already killed the Joker.

So, Jason calls up his Ghost King sugar daddy, points to Crime Alley, and is like, "I want that."

Danny, in Tucker's ratty Amity-U hoodie and ripped jeans, cheesepuff sticking halfway out of his mouth, "What???"

Danny declares Crime Alley as Jason's Haunt. It's officially Jason's territory in both the human realm and the Ghost Zome; conveniently, that also means that no supernatural (dead or alive) can enter the territory without Jason knowing. It also makes Crime Alley emit major Do Not vibes. Bad guys feel this Dread of being watched constantly, residents feel a bit safer knowing there's somebody who will help if they're in danger, and Jason patrols often enough that everybody starts to associate him as the local crime lord. He also uses Danny's money to invest in some social programs in Crime Alley, like open access food pantries, shelters, domestic violence & sexual assault support, a community garden, little libraries, funding for after school activities, etc.

Because the former Ghost King is absolutely loaded. Danny has eons of old stuff piled in his throne room in the Ghost Zone from Aztec Gold to alien technology. He's not using it and nobody's gonna miss it, so if Jason asks for it, Danny gives it to him. (Does he know Jason is selling it for an absolute shitton of money? Maybe, maybe not. He doesn't really care where it ends up as long as it won't cause the apocalypse.)

So, yeah, that's how Jason actually becomes the crime lord of Crime Alley.

[squipa]

got your heart in a headlock

aka soft secrets and domestic moments with jason todd

———

jason grew up in fire. all that he is and all he that knows is cigarette smoke and uncaged adrenaline. he never used to pretend to be something different, he knew what he was and he lived with that burden like he did any other. in the past, he never lied to himself, or let himself believe that maybe, just maybe, he could be something else.

something good.

enter you, you who is good and whole and endlessly kind. you with lips full of sugar, arms full of warmth, and eyes full of love. you, who was made with starlight and wonder, who never looked at him like he was a bad dog, like you were capable of being bit. you, who is light and closeness and understanding. who loves him so deeply in a way he doesn’t deserve to be loved.

so when he comes home from his world of ash and blood, he becomes someone who wears your vanilla shampoo, just because he likes to smell like you. he becomes someone who has the time to watch cheesy romcoms and lengthy youtube videos, just because he gets to hold you in his arms. he becomes someone who sleeps in a bed with eight pillows and dozens of stuffed animals, because he can listen to your soft snores all night long. in your home (which you insist is his too), he is not made of jagged, broken edges, he is not unloveable, he is not a violent dog.

he starts to believe that your love could make him something beyond bloody knuckles and restless nights.

he’s your jason, and he thinks that’s all he wants to be. even if he’s not good at showing you how much he cares. even if he has trouble accepting that your kindness and goodness don’t come with ulterior motives or strings attached. even if he can’t be the guy he thinks you deserve, he still loves being your jason. it’s his duty more than his role, he lives to see you smile, to hold you in his arms on rough nights, to kiss you senseless. because you’ve given him a strange sort of hope that makes him believe he can be more than he is.

normally, you’re not able to sneak out of bed without waking him up. vigilantes senses and whatnot make him an infuriatingly light sleeper, but today was one of those rare mornings you managed to slip from his iron grasp and get up to pee without disturbing your sleeping beauty.

you take a second to watch him, smiling softly as his chest falls rhythmically while he breathes. you don’t often get to see him so peaceful, where his body isn’t tense with the weight of the world, his eyes don’t have that worried glare. you like that, at least in his moments of unconsciousness, he doesn’t feel so unfathomably stressed when he’s with you.

you gently close the bedroom door, making sure you’re quiet enough to not let your boyfriend continue to rest. once you hear the satisfying click of the door, you move to the kitchen, wiping the sleep from your eyes.

you turn on some soft music, ensuring that the volume is low enough as not to disturb jason’s sleep, as you work, pulling the ingredients from your pantry, preheating the oven. you crack three eggs into a small bowl, humming to yourself as you go through the motions. you don’t notice jason until he slips his arms around your waist, pulling a yelp from your throat.

he breathes you in, carefully smushing his nose into your hair. he’s so warm you think, you want to live a life in those arms, big and protective and a wonderful source of heat. “tell me i didn’t wake you up.” you wince, leaning back into his chest, looking up at him. he shakes his head, yawning.

“you didn’t, ma.” he says, sleep plaguing is voice. his obvious exhaustion not stopping him from smiling down at you. “what’re’ya making?” a twinge of an accent bleeds into his voice, the jersey he doesn’t care to hide so early in the morning, a part of him you revel in getting to hear.

you smile back, looking back down and continuing your work with the ingredients in front of you. “i’m baking a pie for mrs. lewitski downstairs.” you explain. “her cat just died.” you say, a small pout pushing at your lips.

jason shakes his head, frowning softly. “poor lady. can i help?” he asks, his voice twinging with empathy. he wonders if, before he met you, he would care about such a thing. if he would be the sort of person to sympathize with something as small as a cat funeral without your guiding hand.

you know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, he would.

you nod, pointing at a cutting board and a pile of granny smiths. “cut the apples.”

he nods, pressing a kiss against the tippy-top of your head before he pulls away, a goodbye that feels like torture. “yes ma’am.” he says, carefully taking a knife out of the knife block before heading over to his station.

neither of you talk, lost in the comfort of each other’s company. jason peels and cuts the apples with expert precision, you form the dough for the crust. it’s quiet little moments like these that make up a life together.

“jay?” you ask, after giving up on rolling out the particularly tough dough. “could you give me a hand?”

he looks up from the apples, of which he’s already almost finished (damn those vigilante skills), and gives you a nod. he sets down the knife, coming up behind you, pressing himself against your back.

“of course, baby.” he whispers into your ear, his teeth lightly sinking into your cartilage, just enough to make you shiver. he gently places his arms over yours, holding his calloused hands atop yours. he moves the rolling pin slowly back and forth, putting his strength into the dough.

he pushes dough slowly, his breath hot against your neck. “like this?” he asks, once the dough gets thin enough. again, you shiver, his voice sending little waves through your spine.

“little thinner.” you say, leaning back into him.

“little thinner.” he hums, his voice a low mumble in your ear.

jason todd grew up in fire, he was born in it. but that fire makes him emit a pleasant warmth that you can’t live without. it makes his touch burn against your skin, sending electric shots through your body. it makes him the only person you’ve ever wanted to come home too, the only person you’ve ever been capable of loving, the only person you could ever love. his warmth was made for you, a cocoon of his fire you can only pray surrounds you for as long as you live.

he continues rolling, until he gets the crust rolled just right. truthfully, you extended the moment a little more than necessary, lightly instructing just a bit more, oh wait, can you make it thicker? to allow yourself to bask in the fire a second longer. you can feel a knowing smile pressing into your head, noting how he does move ever-so-slightly slower in service to you.

once he’s done, he pulls away, his hand trailing against your waist, lingering in the small of your back for a second longer than he likely should. he goes back to chopping the apples, humming with a small smile on his face. you too continue your task, making a sugar mixture to pour over the cubed granny smiths.

eventually, you both finish, and he helps you pour the apple-brown-sugar mixture into the dough-lined pie tins he helped you make. his hands are surprisingly gentle with the pasty. you didn’t realize that he was scared of ruining something as delicate and beautiful as something your hands were benevolent enough to create. but he would do whatever you asked, even if he was unsure why you would want his help. he doesn’t create, he destroys.

“can you press a fork against the edges, like this?” you ask, demonstrating how he could press both ends of the pies together. he simply nods, his fingers brushing against yours as he carefully took the silver from your hands. “i’ll check the oven.”

you pull back and open the oven, sticking your hand into the scorching air to test its temperature, earning a small frown from jason. you quickly close the door and turn back to him, moving across the kitchen. your hands slide around his waist, meeting just below his belly button. you lean up, pressing your head into the back of his neck, planting a small kiss against his spine.

“you’re good at that.” you say, watching as he works.

“yeah?” he mumbles, a soft smile on his face. he doesn’t quite believe he’s doing less harm than good, but he likes the reward he’s getting for it.

“i should make you my official pie-presser.” you respond, placing another kiss against his neck.

“i’d be honored.”

“you should be.”

“you’re making it a bit hard for me to focus, ma.” he says, shivering as you kiss him again and again, making sure to breath him in.

you smile against his skin. “i only need you to focus until we put these in the oven.” you mumble seductively, breathing hot air into his ear.

he pauses, stiff and still for an entire moment, before his shoulders drop and he returns to work like a man possessed. you squeeze yourself into him, breathing in his scent- a mix of irish spring and leather.

he only moves to put the pies in the oven, giving your arm a squeeze before he pulls away. “how long?” he asks, his fingers brushing over the keypad on the oven timer.

“twenty-five minutes.” you say, leaning back against the countertop. he presses the buttons carefully, before making his way back to you.

he smiles, not just with his mouth, but with those piercing blue eyes you can’t seem to tear yourself away from. his hair, messy from sleep, falls a bit in his face and, well, it’s your job to push it back. once he gets close enough to dip his head down, your hands are all over him, one against his forehead, smoothing his hair, and the other trailing down his arm.

“you’re my favorite helper.” you say, as he leans closer, a grin forming from the smile that had such a hold on his lips.

without warning, his hands slip on the bottoms of your thighs, and he hoists you up on the counter, eliciting a yelp from you.

“jay!” you exclaim, giggling. you spread your legs just enough to make room for him, letting him lean in, placing your arms against his shoulders. he’s wearing a shit-eating grin, but looking up at you with stars in his eyes.

“you didn’t think all that help was for free, did you?” he says, moving closer, his lips a breath away from yours. you playfully roll your eyes, but you can’t suppress the smile on your face, or the red that dusts your cheeks.

“and what exactly do i owe you?” you ask, raising a brow.

he leans in closer, his lips taking yours. for a moment, all you are is jason, all you can and ever want to be is a person that he loves. his lips crash against yours, in a perfectly soft rhythm that you two have learned to follow with each other. passion isn’t a word intense enough to describe a kiss like this, especially when compared to the loveless kisses you’ve given your past partners.

this is love.

neither of you want to pull away, but you do. something so good means eventually you’ll have to come up for air.

“y’know, we’ve got—“ jason pulls his head back, checking the oven timer. “—twenty minutes and fifty three seconds before you have to take out the pies.” he points out, his eyes darting back to yours with a mischievous sort of grin. “why not make the most of them.”

you giggle a little bit, like he’s not your jason and you haven’t been in love with him all this time. it’s ridiculous your boyfriend of a year has such an effect on you still, but here you are, a blushing mess of a woman, infatuated with the man in front of you.

“and how would you suppose we do that?” you ask, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

his grin spreads across his face, and before you can think to do more than flash your dopey smile, he pulls his hands under your ass and picks you up, holding you against him.

you yelp again, giggling as he pulls you closer. your legs wrap around his waist, and your arms meet at his middle back. he smiles up at you, pressing a chaste kiss against your smile, before moving you towards the bedroom, sucking a soft kiss against your neck.

the secret you keep from jason, only because you know he wouldn’t believe you if you dared confess it, is that he is inherently good. yes, he was forged in fire, tossed around by a universe with little care for his happiness or his safety. you’re not sure how he hasn’t realized that that’s what makes him a good man, a man who cares about cat funerals and revels in making you feel warm and loved. you know that he credits you with his goodness, that you’re the reason he loves and deserves to be love, and if he needs you to be that reason, you’ll do it proudly. but jason is good beyond you, a man with unwavering character. that’s why you love him so.

[vacate-et-scire]

╰➤Dish Duty

You pause in the doorway, blinking at the sight before you.

Jason. At the sink. Doing the dishes.

For a moment, your brain refuses to process it. This is Jason Todd, a man whose idea of cleaning is kicking his boots into a corner and calling it a day. A man who has been known to buy new dishes just to avoid washing the ones in his sink.

And yet, here he is, sleeves rolled up, hands in soapy water, looking criminally domestic.

You squint. "What are you doing?"

Jason glances over his shoulder. "Dishes?"

"Since when do you do that?"

"Since you told me you don’t enjoy it." He shrugs, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, before turning back to the sink.

Your brain short-circuits.

Because what the hell.

Your heart clenches, because it’s such a small thing—so stupidly, absurdly small—but it means everything. He doesn’t say I love you all the time, but this? This is him saying it without words.

You step forward, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind, pressing your cheek against his back. He’s warm, solid, and smells faintly like dish soap and him.

Jason huffs out a laugh. "What, you get turned on by dishwashing now?"

You snort, smacking his side lightly. "Shut up."

He smirks but keeps scrubbing.

And you stand there for a moment, holding him, listening to the soft clink of dishes, feeling your heart swell.

Maybe you’ll start complaining about laundry next.

[jasonsdolly]

Domesticity was not something Jason Todd was used to.

His past and everything he does to keep the city free of any danger haunted him like his own shadow.

He would never think he would find himself cooking and laughing with someone he loved and they loved him too.

It felt so right, like despite everything morally wrong he did he still had a place where he belonged. With you.

As if somehow all the suffering he had gone through was being rewarded.

“Everything’s okay, baby? I lost you for a moment.”

Your voice brought him out of his thoughts, as always being the light among the darkness of his mind.

He took a couple of steps towards you and without thinking twice, hooked his arm around your waist and turned you around so he could face you and kiss you with longing and affection.

You, by surprise, at first did not kiss him back but then you followed the kiss in the same way that he moved his lips over yours.

“What was that?”

The way he looked at you like you had hung the stars in the sky made your heart flutter in your chest.

“I just- I love you.”

You smiled and brushed the tip of your nose against his lovingly.

“I love you more.”

[jasontodddidnothingwrong]

Jason Todd returns to Gotham and things get... better?

Sure, Red Hood stops the supply of drugs to kids, and the working girls are safer than ever, and those who are desperate enough to resort to goonery are finally able to actually put food on their respective tables, but there's something else. Something strange and more than a little intangible.

It's the weather that Gothamites notice first. It doesn't rain as much; the year following Hood's rise to power has record-low rainfall, almost on par with Metropolis for once. The air quality index goes down a hundred points, and if you ask the average resident, they might swear that the sun is somehow brighter these days.

Then, the crime rates start to plummet. A 40% reduction of domestic violence. 30% less murders. 60% less sexual assaults. And not just in Crime Alley, where the Hood is on the prowl: crime is down all over Gotham.

Public health is next. The rate of birth defects goes down 70%. Cancer diagnoses are halved. Cases of Sudden Infant Death Syndrom dwindle. Vaccines finally manage to flush out the last stubborn vestiges of preventable disease.

And then there's the weird stuff. A Gothamite wins the lottery for the first time in history. A woman gives birth to healthy octuplets. The number of accidental deaths reaches an all-time low. There are sightings of a strange man slicing glowing blades through the air, leaving light and lightness in his wake.

And, one day, years after Jason's return, the Justice League Dark visit. John Constantine turns to the Batman and says, "Love what you've done with the place, mate. Who'd you get to remove all the curses?"

[ofbatsandballads]

have this thing I wrote in a flash of pure, unadulterated love for Jason that I felt while doing my hair routine after my shower. never needed a fictional guy more in all my life and honestly this may be my personal favorite thing I’ve ever written.

Thinking about domesticity with Jason Todd. Building a home with him, a life. How ever so gradually mine and yours becomes ours.

You’re brushing your teeth one morning and decide to try out his toothpaste, the one he always buys from the bodega down the block owned by the little abuelita that loves him to death. It’s fresh and it’s minty and you swear it leaves your teeth whiter than the brand name stuff you buy, so you let your tube get used up and never buy toothpaste again. Jason, without question, simply starts buying it twice as often as usual.

You’re fresh from the shower together after a night off for both of you. You’re warm and you’re happy and you’re both so in love it almost hurts. You watch enraptured as he towel dries his hair, roughly scrunching the water from his inky curls. You don’t like how he lacks gentleness with himself, so you take the towel from him and gesture for him to lean down. Ever obedient to you, Jason complies and smiles softly as you dry his hair for him. You think suddenly that while his curls are always soft to the touch, they could do with being a bit more defined. They tend to get really frizzy and poofy by the end of the day. So you grab your curl cream and gel and just absentmindedly do your own routine on him. He raises his eyebrow in question only to quickly relent when he realizes it means you’re playing with his hair for longer. Your hunch is right; once his hair dries, his curls are so pretty you think you could get lost in the waves of them. Jason’s just happy cause now his hair smells like you.

The only clothes Jason has that are his now is his Red Hood gear. The rest of his closet has quickly become co-owned by you. His brain never fails to short circuit when you walk out in his hoodies, or his sweatpants, or his t-shirts, or his boxers. There’s not one piece of his civilian clothing that hasn’t been on both of your bodies at this point. Sometimes seeing you in his clothes has Jason blushing and his heart pounding with how much he loves you, how grateful he is to have this life with you. Other times seeing you in his clothes has him calculating the fastest way he can get them all off of you. You’re just disappointed that it can’t go both ways. But, alas, the struggles of having a massive boyfriend are that he’ll never be able to fit in your clothes. Whatever; it still does something for you when he finally wears the old Gotham Knights shirt that you’d stolen for months.

It’s also kind of funny sometimes. You two own a set of old, dark gray towels affectionately labeled “The Blood Towels”. The Blood Towels are only brought out after a really rough patrol or post-showering when you’re on your period. They came about after you’d nearly slipped while soaking wet from how quickly you’d tried to dry off to avoid bleeding on his good, fluffy towels. Jason just looked at you like you were a little ditzy, a flat “Do ya know how many times I’ve bled on these towels?” coming from his mouth. “I don’t care! I still don’t wanna ruin them!” you’d insisted. And thus, The Blood Towels were born.

Your bookshelf is never going to stop growing. You’ve actually had to go to IKEA more than once to get a larger one with how often you and Jay visit the old bookstore two blocks away from your apartment. Neither of you can resist a pretty cover, or a new annotated edition, or, heaven forbid, those rare, expensive first edition copies. At this point you’re not really sure which of the five copies of Pride and Prejudice first belonged to who, but really what does it matter when you’re both reading them anyways? And it’s always funny when you have to drag home a bigger bookshelf. You can never hold your laughter when Jason inevitably shouts “What the fuck! This wouldn’t be so goddamn hard if they actually gave you coherent instructions!” It’s also always nice to drag the old bookshelves to the apartment of the single mom downstairs whose kid loves reading. You both know she can barely afford the second hand books she gets him, so the shelves are happily given. You’re actually thinking of asking Jay if he’s willing to part with one of your first edition copies of Frankenstein for Christmas; the kid would freak.

All of this comes to a head with a cat. A big, fat, black cat that crawls up on your fire escape one night. You’d both been a little distracted–okay, a lot distracted by the feeling of being lost in each other's touch. You’d been making out for over an hour, just relishing in the intimacy of being together. It was definitely going to go somewhere until you heard the caterwauling of an animal outside your window. “The fuck is that?” Jason had asked as he pulled away from kissing bruises into your neck. “Sounds like a cat.” You’d begged, actually begged, Jason to let him stay. The next morning you came home with a grocery bag full of cat toys and bowls while Jason hauled a value-sized 40 pound bag of cat food on his shoulder. Atticus sits with you both while you watch TV now. Atticus still sometimes ruins the mood when he sees Jason sink his teeth into you and immediately swats his dad on the cheek. But Atticus is also undeniably your boy. And whatever, maybe you do start thinking about what Jason would look like with an actual baby in his arms when he’s cradling Atty as he shuffles around your home. But there’s time for that yet. You both know that. You know that beyond anything else, you’ll always have this life, this home together. It’s the best gift either of you have ever been given.

[indulgentdaydream]

BEEN WAITING FOR THIS BESTIE

what about a tired and very touch-starved jason wakes up at like 2pm and fem!reader is out of bed??? and he comes and finds them and throws them over his shoulder and brings them back to bed???? because why would you leave jaybean by himself????? unnacceptable???

THIS IS SO ADORABLE WHAT

And the idea of people waiting for my requests to be open is so weird like… what do you mean you wanna read my writings and hear my thoughts??? Y’all make me smile so much I swear

Side note: I’m so sorry this is a month late. And then also another day late than I said I would post.

Side side note: if y’all saw me post this without the photo header…. No you didn’t

M.I.A

Jason Todd x gn!Reader || Domestic Fluff || Word Count: 758

Warnings: not completely proofread. Gun mention.

Jason’s pulled himself out of a bad dream. Not quite a nightmare, though something eerily close.

It was one of those rare nights that he had off of patrol. One he where the two of you got to eat dinner together, watch some TV, get ready for bed, then fall asleep in your shared bed. He enjoyed the chances when he got them.

He laid on his stomach under the comfortably heavy duvet. His left arm was bent beneath his pillow, his hand grazing the hidden .44 he had convinced you to let him keep there, the other arm laying in front of him. He kept his eyes closed, clinging to his last tendrils of sleep.

All he needed was you back in his arms and his dreams would turn good again, filled with the smell of your soap and hints of faded perfume.

Slowly, he stretches his right arm out across the sheets, sleepily searching for your form. It drags along the sheets, his entire body only half-asleep.

He’s aware that there’s this… itch in his skin. Not a physical itch. An itch that can only be satisfied by having your arms around him again.

Jason Todd doesn’t count sheep. He counts your heart beats or your breathing. Sometimes both.

He must be laying further to the edge of his side of the bed than he thought. Usually, he doesn’t have to reach this far to get to you when you two drift apart in your sleep.

His hand grazes the wall. His eyes shoot open.

You aren’t in bed.

He pushes himself up with his elbows. A tired, confused, and slightly panicked frown settled on his face, his hair mussed up and flat on one side of his head.

The bedroom window is closed. The door is cracked open.

Then he notices the sound of the tap running in the kitchen.

Jason gets up and out of bed, moving languidly. He pads his way out of the bedroom and into the hallway.

His eyes squint at the light you had turned on as he stands in the doorway. All foggy panic he felt before faded away at the sight of you, filling a glass with water, standing in one of his shirts.

He shuffles his feet. A purposeful noise that he wouldn’t otherwise make as he went about his day, one to get your attention.

You turn around, your glass of water in your hand. You take notice of your boyfriend’s large stature filling the entryway, a sleepy pout on his lips. You give him a smile. He can tell you're trying not to laugh at his fatigued state.

“Want a glass, too?”

Jason shakes his head. He makes his way across the kitchen, his brows still furrowed against the light.

He just wants you back in bed with him.

He reaches for your glass after you sip from it. You hand it to him. Jason takes the cold glass in his right hand, bends down a little, and wraps his left arm tight around the bottom of your bum. He stands back up, now with you draped over his shoulder.

You squeal out a fit of laughter, "Jay!"

He flicks off the light as he exits the kitchen, makes his way back into the hall, then kicks the door to your bedroom shut as he carries you in.

Gently, he sets you back down on the edge of the bed. Once you're properly seated, he hands your water back for you to finish. Seeing your bright smile makes his own lips tug into a small one.

Jason rakes his hands through his hair as you drink. He rubs his hands over his face, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes from a moment, trying to shake a bit of the sleep still clinging to him.

You hand him back the nearly finished glass of water. He watches you shuffled back under the covers, moving over to the wall-side. Your side. He finishes off the last two gulps of your water and sets the glass on the night stand.

He follows you under the covers, immediately pulling you close. He presses a kiss to your cheek and drops his head into the crook of your neck, an arm draped around your waist, the other tucked under his pillow. He kisses your shoulder and gently squeezes your waist once.

Your arms settle around him, "If you wanted cuddles you could’ve just asked, you know."

Jason only grumbles an incoherent response. He shuffles and presses closer to you, holding you tight.

You kiss his forehead and Jason starts to count.

Ahh!! I hope you like! This is lowkey rushed.

Also you can catch my personal headcanon of how Jason WILL keep his bed, with or without you in it, as far away from the window and door as possible. And you best believe that when you two share, you're getting the wall side so he can act as a barrier for any possible danger that may come in.