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𝐈𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 || 𝐉𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐓𝐨𝐝𝐝 ||

A/n: Saw a sad Edit of Jason so I had to do this

Inspired by “Criminal” by Britney Spears

You tell yourself you’re careful.

Careful with knives in the kitchen, careful with passwords and paper cuts, careful with your mother’s voice in your ear — that honeyed warning that sounds like a lullaby and a verdict at the same time, careful your whole life. Gotham is a chorus of don’ts and never, and somehow it always sounds like your mother. Don’t walk alone after dark. Never talk to men with guns. Don’t fall for trouble; trouble doesn’t love you back.

Her rules of course, a mantra she told you throughout your whole life.

You listen. You’re good at listening. You’re good at smiling and being polite and saying you have to go because you left the kettle on. You’re so good at it that people mistake your quiet for obedience.

You're a good girl.

And then you meet him.

It’s the kind of meeting that only happens in this city — fluorescent lights in a corner bodega that hum like insects, rain knifing down outside, a trio of boys with bravado and plastic knives they think are real. You just want milk. They want the register.

He wants them to leave.

He doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t need to. The door flings wide and rain walks in on two boots, the kind that have scraped across rooftops and over graves. The helmet is the red of fresh blood; the jacket creaks when he moves, a soft leather whisper. He stands between you and the knives and the boys, and what scares you most is how calm you are.

“Out,” he says, helmet tilted, guns still holstered. “Last chance.”

Two run. One doesn’t. Gunmetal flashes. He takes the knife, bends the kid’s wrist, guides him to the floor like it’s a dance. No blood. Just the clean crack of arrogance breaking.

You’re supposed to be afraid. You just…aren’t. Your heartbeat is steady, like it’s been waiting for this rhythm without knowing why. He looks your way, and you’ve never been so aware of your own breath.

“You good?” The voice is distorted through the modulator, low and rough like gravel under tires.

You nod. He looks away, but he doesn’t miss the way your hands don’t shake. The boy scrambles out; the owner stammers thanks. Red Hood tips two fingers to his helmet and leaves with the rain.

You don’t realize you’ve followed until you’re outside under the awning. It’s late enough for loneliness to dress itself as bravery. He stops, half-turned, like he’s not surprised.

“Careful,” he says. “Gotham bites.”

“So I’ve heard.” Your mouth finds a smile you didn’t know it had. “Thank you.”

His helmet tilts — curiosity, or maybe a warning. “Get home safe.”

You tell yourself you will. You tell yourself a lot of things. But a week later, you’ll be on the back of his bike with the city smearing into neon and thunder around you, your fingers hooked into his jacket like a prayer you never learned how to say.

◂ ❚ ⊱ꕥ⊰ ❚ ▸

You learn his name by accident. The helmet is off, thrown on a scarred workbench in a safehouse that manages to be both temporary and painfully lived-in. He’s bare to the waist and you shouldn’t look but you do. The scars are a constellation that tells a story you don’t know how to read yet, old bullet lines and something worse, something that looks like a hand went into his chest and squeezed until his heart remembered it had to beat.

He notices you tracing with your eyes. He doesn’t flinch.

“I’m Jason,” he says, like it matters that you know. Like he wants you to.

You repeat it. It tastes like a secret. “Jason.” His name comes out breathless, like you were always meant to say it.

“Red Hood’s for when I’m working.” He shrugs into a shirt; you feel unreasonably bereft. “You okay with that?”

You should say no. You should say you’re calling a cab and pretending none of this happened, and you’re going to go back to being careful, to drinking tea and turning on the porch light when you get home, to listening to your mother sing warnings in your head.

Instead you find your self asking him: “Are you?”

He huffs, a laugh that’s half-confession. “Working’s easier than breathing some days.”

You glance at the table — maps, a box of ammunition, a folded photograph with the edges softened by the kind of touch that means grief. You hear the city in his voice. The good in him is a feral thing that doesn’t know how to sit inside a church; you’re not sure your goodness ever did.

You’re careful, you remind yourself, as he comes closer. Careful while you tilt your head back to look at him. Careful when you memorize the ink on his forearms and the way his hair curls damp at his nape. Careful when the distance between you goes electric.

“You shouldn’t,” he says, and you understand what he means. He’s not warning you off. He’s warning himself.

“Tell me to go,” you whisper, and neither of you believe you will.

Because you never would leave.

He doesn’t. He kisses you like falling is a decision and you already made it. His mouth is hot and unforgiving, and you learn the exact weight of his control because he keeps most of himself on a leash and still you shiver. His palms hold your jaw like he’s choosing another kind of violence, the kind that leaves no marks, only a heat under your skin that you’ll feel for days.

You’re not the kind of girl who makes out with vigilantes in safehouses with holes in the drywall. You discover you are.

“Slow,” he murmurs against your mouth. “We do this slow.”

You nod because anything else would be begging. He laughs, breath against your throat, and your brain goes white noise. Your body knows what it wants before you admit it. You feel him hot and solid through denim against your hip; you ache in answer, slick with want, heart hammering at the thought of need to be filled even as his hands keep you exactly where he wants you — not yet.

He stops before you do. You want to hate him for it; you can’t. His forehead rests against yours, your breath tangled. You think of all the good choices you’ve ever made and how bored they felt next to this.

“Go home,” he says softly. “Before you decide you live here.”

You look around the cracked walls and bullet-scarred floor, then back at him. “Maybe I do.”

◂ ❚ ⊱ꕥ⊰ ❚ ▸

The city knows before your friends do. Someone catches a photo — your cheek turned toward the hard red shine of a helmet, your smile outlawed by streetlights. It’s grainy. It’s enough.

Your phone erupts. Your mother, of course. Friends. A coworker who never liked you much suddenly very invested in your soul. They all say the same thing in different fonts: He is wrong for you. He is danger in a leather jacket. He will ruin your life.

You snort then think, ruin what life? The one where you go to work and come home and sleep and never once feel like your skin fits?

You don’t answer. You turn your phone over and you go somewhere you were told never to go.

Jason is waiting in the Narrows with a bag of stolen antibiotics that someone else stole first from people who needed them more. You don’t understand his moral arithmetic and maybe you don’t have to; you understand the outcomes. He gives. He protects. He terrifies the people who should be terrified and that says something you aren’t brave enough to say out loud.

He’s got blood on his knuckles tonight. It isn’t his. Your stomach still drops.

“Did they deserve it?” you ask, because you’re still yourself in a way that’s tender and inconvenient.

His eyes find yours, glacial and warm at once. “They were selling to kids.”

You nod. You choose. “Okay.” You step forward then place your hand against his cheek.

◂ ❚ ⊱ꕥ⊰ ❚ ▸

The first time you patch him up, your kitchen looks like a crime scene from a cheap TV show. He downplays it because that’s what he does.

“It’s nothing.”

It’s not nothing. It’s a gash along his side that needs stitches and your hands are steady like they were made for this and he watches you with something reverent and terrible in his eyes. He’s a weapon that loves the hands that hold him. You’re a good girl who finally found a use for her carefulness.

“Jason.” You say his name and he relents like a muscle unclenching.

He sits on your counter with his shirt off, blood slick at his waist. You clean, you numb, you thread. He hisses and jokes and you snort and then your mouth is on his because this — this is intimacy you weren’t warned about. Heat blooms low and insistent; your whole body leans toward him like a plant desperate for sun. He tugs you between his knees and his hands curve over your hips, and you think this is what it feels like to get away with something huge.

The kiss turns slow and then it turns into something else, something deliberate. He drags his mouth over your throat like a man tracing the map home. Your fingers get lost in his hair; his breath breaks on your skin. The counter edge bites your thighs and you don’t care; you’d bruise for this. You’d bruise to remember.

◂ ❚ ⊱ꕥ⊰ ❚ ▸

The city escalates. That’s what Gotham does when it senses joy — it tests for structural integrity.

You feel eyes on you. The cops, for show; the Bat, for something more complicated. One night, on your walk home, you think you see a cape vanish into shadow. You tell yourself it’s just Gotham being Gotham, but part of you wonders if Batman is already watching… not to stop you, but to make sure you get home alive.

◂ ❚ ⊱ꕥ⊰ ❚ ▸

It ends the way it began — with rain, and a store that smells like bleach, and a door that flings wide because he chooses to walk through it.

No, that’s wrong.

It doesn’t end.

It changes.

There’s a firefight because of course there is. Sirens smear sound into a scream. Gunshots stitch air into fabric you can’t breathe through. Jason is a blur of red and black and intent, moving like something destined and furious. You are behind a shelf, hands clasped over your head like prayer. You don’t pray; you start now.

When the last body falls, the last gun clatters, the last siren fades, he finds you with hands that shake in the aftermath, adrenaline turning his edges soft. He kneels. He says your name like home.

“You okay?” His thumb catches a streak of grime from your cheekbone. You nod and then you don’t; you fold into him and shake and he holds all of it without flinching.

On the roof, he stops. He looks at you like he can’t believe any of this is real.

“They’re going to hate you for this,” he says, half-stricken, half-wondering.

“They already do.” Your palm finds his chest. “Let them.”

You kiss him like a crime. Lightning breathes across the clouds. And then you see him —

Across the next rooftop, in the rain, a darker silhouette stands still against the skyline. The cape stirs, black armor unmoving. Jason sees him too; you feel it in the way his hand tightens.

They lock eyes. No shouting. No blame. Just the silent language that says I lost you once. I’m not ready to lose you again. Jason braces for a fight. Batman doesn’t move. The cowl dips — not surrender, not approval, but permission.

Jason blinks, a flicker of the boy under the armor, and you catch it. Batman’s gaze shifts to you — unreadable, but protective. Then he steps back into shadow, gone.

Jason exhales, rough. “Guess we’re clear.”

You know the truth: Bruce just protected you both in the only way he knows how — by letting you leave.

Jason offers his hand. You take it. The rain slides down your neck and you laugh because this is happiness, and you weren’t sure you’d ever survive it.

Below you, Gotham breathes. Above you, thunder says amen. And in the space where your heartbeat meets his, the city finally answers back.

[wobuffetbreakfast]

cain instinct

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tysm for the taggg

@cro0kedme @gaintsnowflake

my greatest wish in like is to know at least 10 languages fluently apart from my native tongue...

TELL ME A CURIOSITY ABOUT YOURSELF. NOTHING DISTURBING OR GLOOMY. SOMETHING SILLY LIKE YOU HAVE BRACES OR YOU HAVE A TATTOO OF YOUR FAVORITE CHARACTER

I have a lot of bridge in my feet, I walk silly and I'm not a good athlete for that lol

And tag your mutuals!

@agoodpretender, @angiem03, @tiberious-possum, @fukitche

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tysm for the tagggg

again , no pressure to my moots....

currently reading : none. i want to get back into reading again...

last song : teenage dirtbag by wheatus

last film : f1 the movie

last series : invincible

sweet/savoury/spicy : all

tea or coffee : anything

working on : my french and integral calculus

tagging : @gaintsnowflake @cro0kedme @enupii @obeythebutler

— TAG NINE PEOPLE YOU WANT TO GET TO KNOW MORE !

thank you for the tags LOVE you guys and hit me up on my disc for a kiss: @gojodickbig @fayerie @sugurusladyknightt @fear-is-truth

currently reading: haha who reads lol... last song: cowboy gangster politican - goldie boutilier last film: superman last series: overcompensating sweet/savory/salty: spicy i make my own rules tea or coffee: anything with caffeine to keep me going working on: getting over this gosh darn cold that wants to keep me shackled in my bedroom

✦ nine no pressure tags my loves: @prosypepper @joemama-2 @letteremi @hellowoolf @redrrem @getouyuri @eraserbread @nialovessatoru @kunareads

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boo !

Ahem....

Thanks bruh 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥✨✨✨✨✨🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶

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tysm for the mention Temis!!! , I tag @cro0kedme @enupii @obeythebutler @gaintsnowflake

pinterest tag game !!

𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑢𝑙𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑠𝑖𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑒: 𝑔𝑜 𝑡𝑜 𝑝𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑡, 𝑠𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑐ℎ "𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑒 + 𝑐𝑜𝑟𝑒," 𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑠𝑖𝑥 𝑝𝑖𝑐𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑒𝑠. 𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑡𝑎𝑔 𝑠𝑖𝑥 𝑝𝑒𝑜𝑝𝑙𝑒.

tysm for the tag @scrapplescribbles <3

my tags : @stereo1984 @fooiscool @cinderedrose @drusillavmp @magd3l3n3sg0sp3l @heyhowzitgoinmydudes if yall wanna join in!! <3

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You are a fan of internationally-acclaimed K-pop group Huntrix. They drop a new single to wild success and its debut performance is canceled without clear explanation. Huntrix's management says something about a medical condition with the lead singer.

At the same time a new boyband debuts with a song that tops all the charts. The boyband doesn't seem to have a management company. Or names. Maybe that doesn't matter because their sound IS catchy. Huntrix is completely out of the public eye except for two appearances alongside this new boyband where they are there exclusively to beef. It's maybe a PR stunt. It's maybe because Rumi is exes with one of the only two named members of the Saja Boys.

People start going missing at a rate 4x the national average. You probably wouldn't even know about this except that 3 of the missing people were big names on Stan Twitter so it's kind of a big deal. There are four different high-traction posts claiming all the recent missing people were Saja Boy fans. But that's like claiming all the recent missing people drank water and breathed air.

Rumi is still on medical leave but Huntrix management is saying Huntrix WILL be at the K-pop Awards. Someone on Twitter's uncle's friend works in a recording studio and he says Huntrix is debuting a song which tells the Saja Boys to die. The exes theory gets a lot of traction. Twitter tries to doxx Jinu to confirm the theory but no one can figure out who he is. Twitter tries to doxx the other Saja Boys to the same lack of success. One account said she had "a lead" but her Twitter has been silent for 72 hours since.

Rumi is back from medical leave for the K-pop Awards just in time to have a massive falling-out and break-up on stage. This probably devastated you but you don't really remember it. The Saja Boys invite everyone to a concert. A lot of people who went don't remember going, and you'd call that suspicious except you also went and don't remember going.

Somehow no one in the crowd of 10,000 thought to record the concert on their phone. Maybe there was a "no phones" rule but usually there are still leaks. No one has any video or photo evidence of this concert happening. However you all collectively remember hearing "What It Sounds Like" at the concert (before it debuted 4 days later from Huntrix's label.) This does not make a lot of sense because this was a Saja Boys concert, supposedly. Someone says they saw Zoey impale at least one of the Saja Boys. You would brush this off as a stupid rumor but 2-dozen other people are saying the same thing and you a little bit remember it too.

There's a lot of people saying "Let's wait for an official statement from the Saja Boys" on Twitter but they've been saying that for 2 weeks now and no one has seen or heard from them since the concert. There's a lot of people saying "Zoey killed them fr" which was a joke at first and now, is not not a joke, but it hits a little different.

Most of you are kinda over SB Twitter at this point so you kind of don't care anymore but there are a few remaining fans who've doubled down on the doxxing effort to figure out if they're okay. It's not going well. One person claims to have found Jinu's identity but everyone thinks she's stupid because that guy died literally 400 years ago. YES the royal court's painting of him looks identical and yes that guy was a singer too, but come on, the K-pop look is 90% make-up anyway.

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as ai slop is on the rampage, one of my biggest fears is Wikipedia being edited by ai. how to not let that happen?

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Asmodeus: Yeah, we're best friends, but I'd fuck you if you asked.

Symphony: What?

Asmodeus: What?

Mammon: *without looking up from their magazine* He said he'd fuck you if you asked.

@asmodues-family

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THIS IS NOT REAL. If you get this comment, they’re just trying to get you to delete your fic.

1) I would have gotten some kind of email from Ao3 if this was true

2) this comment is formatted to be perfect to tack onto any fic they choose

3) ALSO why on earth would Ao3 get rid of entire fandoms off the site? Even if they WERE inactive? Who knows if others will be ‘late’ to the fandom and want some fic to read. Who knows if someone wants to come back to their 6 year old account only to find most of their fics deleted.

I’m lucky to be a reasonable adult who has seen tricks like these who also had a very kind person comment their own doubts.

Please let your Ao3 friends know <3

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leviathan devilgram hcs

mammon dgram hcs

Img creds pinterest.

levi is online 24/7 , he posts moderately in his actual account but he has a spam account where 99.999999999% of his posts are memes and fanarts and stuff.

During the time where he posts in his main, it's usually one of his brothers who actually take a good photo of him (read asmo) and force him to post. He grumbles but does it anyways.

One of his fav photos is of him and Belphie and Beel playing Mario Kart.

Another one is Lucifer and him playing Roblox, he offered Luci as a stress buster, and that's how they usually bond and stuff.

Asmo once made him an out during a Dress To Impress game and that was his pfp for the longest time not even Ruri chan.

He posts a lot about comics and mangas and comic cons etc which he usually attends with Satan.

He posts his stats and usual photos of him gaming when he makes a successful level up in one of his games.

The aquarium remains a staple element in his photo dumps.

Overall his fan following consists of people who are nerds about anime and manga, like him.

He's very well known in the gaming community👥👥👥.

Also posts him and mc's gaming nights (date nights) which elicits a massive response.

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“Get ready with me to breakup with my fiancé-“

“BUUUUUULLSHIT YOU ARE!”

Immediately, as soon as your first words are uttered over the recording video, Rintaro’s booms down the hallway. You laugh and smack your hand on the counter, trying to keep it as quiet as you can as you hear him continue to yell.

“THE FUCK YOU THINK THIS IS? WE’RE LOCKED IN, WHAT THE FUCK!” Socked feet barrel down the hall and you’re quick to hide the camera behind a bottle of mouthwash. His body quickly comes into the frame, chest puffed out and hands on his hips. “You got something you want to tell me?”

You pull your lips down in thought before shaking your head, “no. I don’t think so. I didn’t even know you were home.”

“Oh!” He says dramatically, clapping his hands together. “So you’re just always talking about dumping me to your little Internet friends?”

“Only in my fantasies,” you hum, tossing your arms around his neck and pressing a kiss to his cheek. He pouts, and you giggle and kiss him again, “but if I ever do decide to dump you, I promise you’ll be the first to know.”

This, has him blinking unamused at you. Then, his hands leap up to grab your cheeks, and he pulls you in for a loud, wet kiss, his lips pressing kisses over your laughing mouth, teeth, and lips. “Listen to me.”

“Rinnie!”

“No. Shush. Listen to me.” He pulls back and rests his head against yours, hands still squishing your cheeks. “I have shit out an engagement ring for you. I have your name tattooed on me. I got clawed to death by your rat fuck cat, and I have a shirt with your face on it that I wear when I go out. We’ve shared a toothbrush, you pinch my nipple when I’m showering, you text me and ask me if I’ve pooped, and I know damn well you take ugly pictures of me when I’m sleeping.”

“Your point?”

His nostrils flare, “you so much as THINK this relationship is ending, I’m going to tattle on you.”

“Oh, please-“

“To Komori.”

This, has you paling, and you nod softly and gently grab his shoulders, “no, okay, you’re right, you’re right baby, I’m sorry.” He nods as you press a kiss to his lips, “but in all seriousness-“

“Oh, I’m serious, too.”

You snicker, “in my seriousness, I’m never going to leave you.” You flash your engagement ring to the camera and purse your lips out, and he smiles down at you. “who else is going to poop out a ring, then lie to the salesman about why we’re returning it, and get me a new one, hmm?”

“Thankfully, I’m the only one who will.” He kisses your forehead, then looks at you with sad eyes. “We’re locked in?”

“Yeah baby,” you giggle, kissing his nose. “We’re locked in.”

[wobuffetbreakfast]

imagine dating JASON TODD, and the two of you were on your way home after a cozy, lowkey date night at batburger. you were both laughing, discussing the latest drama and gossip happening in his family—what do you mean dick got blacklisted from his local supermarket for buying up the entire cereal aisle?—stomachs full of french fries and milkshakes as you guys turned the corner to take a shortcut through an empty alleyway.

this being gotham, of course a sketchy-looking fellow soon emerged from the shadows, brandishing a knife and threatening you and your boyfriend to hand over your wallets.

“sure, man. take whatever you want. just don’t hurt her,” jason implored, taking a few cautious steps forward as he held out his wallet.

“that’s right. just hand over the money, nice and quietly, and you lovely folks will be right on your way,” the man chuckled.

“please, don’t hurt him!” you could be heard pleading behind jason, anxiously clutching your bag to your chest.

“don’t worry, dollface. so long as your boy toy here doesn’t make any sudden movements, we’re peachy.”

“not you, you idiot,” you scoffed in disgust. “him!”

before the would-be mugger could register what happened next, pain suddenly exploded from his jaw, and white dots clouded his vision as his body fell to the ground with a deafening thud. the knife in his hand was promptly kicked away before jason grabbed the man by the collar of his shirt and lifted him to match his height.

“let me make one thing clear,” your boyfriend began to explain with a seething glare. “i’m not trapped in this alleyway with you. you’re trapped in here with me. and if it was just me, i’d call it a day after that punch. but you threatened my girl, so now i’m gonna have to kick your ass.”

“jay, be careful! we don’t have any more bleach at home to clean up your jacket if his blood gets on it.”

“no promises, babe!”

REBLOGS and COMMENTS are greatly appreciated

[wobuffetbreakfast]

❆ ONE LAST KISS

PAIRING : jason todd x gn!reader

ONESHOT : he appeared at your doorstep, broken and tattered, just like he use to

A/N : hurt with LITTLE comfort. mainly hurt tho. just like my heart writing it because how does one capture the yearning of this brooding man??

masterlist

      WORDS lose their meaning as you as he stood in front of you, suit tattered, mask off, face bloodied and bruised. Months of silence broken. Anger and hatred were both things you told yourself you felt for him before, yet as his breath trembles nothing but concern attaches itself to your body. 

      “Hey,” the quiver of his voice reminded you of who he really is. A broken boy who’s lost too much. 

      “Please don’t tell me that’s your blood.”

      His silence was all you needed to pull him into your small apartment. Closing the door behind him as he stumbled to the couch. He hadn’t looked much different than a newborn animal as he huffed, something that was never meant to fight in these wars.

     Months had passed and yet not a thing seemingly changed in your moth-eaten apartment. The same grungy walls that peeled away everytime the two of you argued. The same mangy couch you watched him read on every night. The timeworn coffee table you would sit every time he came home like this. Broken just beyond repair. The same coffee table you’d sit now, for the first time in months, staring into his drained eyes. 

    “Where’s the worst?” Your voice was softer than it needed to be, as if he’d break if you spoke too loosely.

    “My side,” he groaned as he shifted to show you a large gash, it was ugly. Deep. Something personal.

    His labored breathing and soft groans is what brings you back from staring at his side. Only for you to reach under the table, your dusty medical kit there from all those months ago, waiting for his ghost to appear on night like this. You don’t even need to ask for him to remove his armoured top, for when you look back up at him it's the same shirtless body you use to sleep atop of. Just with a few new scars and bruises, new stories he used to tell. 

     “Why didn’t you go home? Alfred could have done better than me… hell even Bruce could have,” your voice still quiet as you lean in to disinfect the area around the wound, your hands moving as his body wasn’t a distant memory. Not caring to be too gentle, you pressed harder, causing him to curse and flinch. “Sorry.”

     “No you’re not.” 

     “No, I’m not.”

     Silence, a familiar one, consumed the two of you as you began to stitch his deep wounds. Threading moving in and out of his thick skin. You leaned onto his chest just enough you can feel the pitters of his heart. Still there, still strong, still him. The pattern a reminder of all the times you’d kiss his wounds better, of all the times you found yourself curled next to him shielding him from his demons. With every hiss you remind yourself that throughout all the pain he caused you at the end of it all, he was still the same man you met all those years ago. 

     And despite it all, he watched you the whole time. Those eyes— cobalt and crushed— soft the way only a soldier’s could be. Like you were something sacred.

     When you finished the last stitch, you placed a cool rag overtop them moving to a tiny cut on his chin. Leaning further as you tilted his head. His breath warmed against your hand as you disinfected it.

     “You have a lot of nerve coming here, you know?” You attempted to hold an angry glare, yet his eyes were so broken, you couldn’t piece together enough anger in you.

     “I’m sorry, I just… it was instinct.” The whine in his voice was all you needed to hear.

     “Jay- Jason. I know you’re sorry. But that doesn’t change how it ended. That doesn’t change that we agreed to not talk. It doesn’t change it,” your breath hallowed as you moved his chin upward, for him to truly look into the depths of your eyes. “As much as you need it too.”

     “One last kiss,” His hand finally reached up to hold yours. “Please.”

     You shook your head, before dipping forward to kiss the cut on his chin. When you pulled away all you could see was the pleading eyes, before placing your lips on his. 

     It felt familiar. It felt like home. His whine as you pushed your tongue just barely over his capped upper lip was more heartwarming than you could remember. Before you could feel that time slowing feeling and your heart in your throat, you forced yourself to pull away. Before you were too far gone.

     It took you a few moments to open your eyes, moving your body away. Throwing a bloody rag at him, closing the first aid. Feeling the ache of his eyes on your being as you walked away. 

    “You can stay the night,” you whispered, not daring to look back, knowing his yearns would break every ounce of discipline in your body, “But this is the last time Jason. I mean it. Next time I won’t open the door.”

     This time, you walked away from him. For the first and last time, you walked away first.

     By the time you woke up, the towel and spare blanket was left perfectly folded on that neglected coffee table. Along with a note, only displaying the words “THANK YOU.”

[wobuffetbreakfast]

breakup ? blurbs

tags : breakup angst , communication problems on jason's , falling apart on dick's and tim's part , self doubt and worth , yandere at tim's part slightly

pt 1 (you are currently reading it) , pt 2 (coming soon)

JASON TODD (dc comics)

"i see that you moved on ."

see , the thing about jason peter todd is , that he yearns , he yearns so much , almost as if his heart might overflow . this poor boy has held back on so many things in his life , his love of books , his love for batman , although he is begrudging in it , his love for robin and how much that mattered to him . the thing with jason is that he doesn't risk to fight for certain things he needs in his life , resigning himself to the fact that he can never earn it , as if someone like you would love an undead zombie like him .

see , you tried . you tried your level best , you managed to break down some of his walls , but a relationship is meant to go both ways . you seek stability from him , something that he feels hesitant to give .jason feels scared opening up , darling , his heart is made of glass , jagged edges all around , enclosed under a cemented cage . he cannot help it as you move away from him like sand slipping from his fingers , as he desparately tries to grab the remaining , but fails , resigning himself to the fact.

as he watches onto your apartment , from the rooftops of gotham , with your new partner , jason can't help , but feel barren . there are certain demons that he was born with , and certain demons he made along the way making him who he is now . the echoes of his apologies and unspoken words hang heavily in his heart , bellowing a stormy breeze .

DICK GRAYSON (dc comics)

"it was probably never meant to last."

to capture dick grayson's heart is a feat , but to keep it is even greater.

your relationship at first was textbook cute , he buys you flowers , you go out on dates and all of that , and you were stupid enough to indulge in the fantasies he bought you to. thirty years down the lane , with a house and kids , who didn't dream of it especially with gotham's golden boy ? you did and the price you payed for it hurt so much . it started with the little lies , "babe , im fine." , "babe can we not go anywhere today ?", "sweetheart , i need to go somewhere , not now " . eventually these little lies build up into a mountain , causing cracks in the seemingly perfect facade richard grayson made for himself . somedays he comes with terrifying wounds that you wonder where he got from . he can't tell you that he is nightwing , obviously.

for richard grayson , closure comes from people he knows really well , and totally not civilians like you who didn't know what he went through. technically he didn't tell you anything about him , at all , from family , all you knew he was adopted by a seemingly well off family , after a troublesome event . the questions never went further than that.

eventually , the breaking point came in when he mumbled someone else's name in his sleep . you didn't understand who it was , a childhood friend he still hadn't gotten over , probably ? that was enough to make you pack your bags and leave .

"i can't do this anymore , dick , i'm tired ." and you leave , as nightwing's eyes follow you .

you hope grayson and yourself are happier that way .

TIM DRAKE (dc comics)

"we said we were alright , but look how our paths intertwine ."

maybe it was your fault , maybe it was timothy's fault . it eventually ended up in both of your separation , but it didn't change the fact that both of you still had feelings for each other .

his daily routine was sometimes too scary , staying up each night to solve case after case , souls after souls . to keep up with tim's brillaint mind was a herculean task , which made you wonder how to keep your pace with him . by the time you knew something , he had already figured it out , and he had an annoying tendency to remain secretive even when needed .

"come to sleep , tim ." you had said tiredly , rubbing your eyes as you blinked at your boyfriend who stared at the screen , unflinching .

"not now , i'm not finished ." there it was , the usual dialogue . you have no idea how many times you had heard it . your shoulders heaved as if carrying the weight of the whole world as you exited the room , not unnoticed by tim .

it was no shock to him that you decided to separate out with him .

"it's not working out ." you said , "i need time on myself ," you responded . and tim nodded along , all the while supportive . he always was , wasn't he ?

yes he was , precisely the reason he started watching you in the sidelines , tracking you as precise as a hawk , as unbeknownst to the robin .

he is protecting you , can't you see ? in his own little way .

[wobuffetbreakfast]

mammons devilgram account

mostly filled with his runway shoots, casino photos and his modeling gigs, majolish's top model .

has pics of his demonil luxura 666 car

after party pics with asmo is a MUST , him and asmo collaborate on posts a LOT.

when mc and him start haging out more , he starts posting faceless pics of them together which makes his fans go crazy.

hc he has a pretty good fan following around devildom , since he is one of the most eligible bachelors out there .

hc that he has dated around before with his co models but that all stopped after the exchange program commenced .

occasionally he posts himself and his brothers out on vacay or a night out and that becomes the most liked one on his account .

he and asmo have a pretty solid fan following on social media.