I WILL write for certain ships like Korrasami, Buddie, and Wolfstar.
I WILL write smut, smutty things I won’t write listed in the things I won’t write.
I WILL write angst minus the things I have listed… once again in the things I won’t write.
I WILL write x reader stories.
I WILL write for my OCs if you happen to take *that* much interest in them.
Shop DON’Ts
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I WILL NOT write incest, age-play, non-con/dubcon/rape-play
I WILL NOT write mlm smut, as I'm a woman and don't feel like it's something I could write very well.
I WILL NOT write angst involving suicide
I WILL NOT write anything involving homophobia, transphobia, or racism.
I WILL NOT write anything for characters that are kids if it's anything but platonic. If the character is in the 16-17 range, I'll write regular romance (If you're around that age and just wanna smooch your favorite character, I understand. I was there once.)
Coffee Shop Announcements
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If you request something and don’t see it, it either did not meet my criteria or I just haven’t gotten to it yet (please have patience, I’m a busy college student who unfortunately experiences writer's block often💀)
Before reading, please pay attention to warnings above posts, it saves you, me, and everyone else a whole lot of trouble.
Mostly just write for Fem!AFAB!reader, because I don't trust my skills with anything else🥲
When it comes to smut, MDNI and Ageless blogs dni.
Please respect when I announce that requests are/are not open.
No hate comments targeted towards me or anyone else.
Writing is a big passion of mine and I would love to write requests for any of you! If you listen to everything above then we can all get along and everything will remain easy and smooth sailing!
An Appointment with the Past (Jason Todd X Fem!Childhood Friend!Reader)
An: I’m sorry for taking so long with this one guys😔 Admittedly, I lowkey just got writter’s block with this chapter😋
Synopsis: Another day, another 24 hours of going through the motions of grief. It’s fall break and you’ve got a famous Wayne Gala to plan, but unbeknownst to you, you have a sneaky viewer. Someone in a red helmet is watching you from a distance, no malice, he just misses his best friend. And his watch only continues when you go out for the evening with the friends you’ve made at Wayne Enterprises. You’re lucky he’s there to defend you…
Warnings: Fem!Reader, mentions death and grief, stalker-ish tendencies (from Jason), very light violence, depictions of verbal harassment (from a random guy). If I missed any, lmk. 4,159 words. Chapter 1
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Chapter 2
It was an early rainy morning; you were getting ready for another workday. The news once again played softly in the background while you blended in your concealer. Another new story about some guys being rushed to the hospital after being seriously roughed up by Red Hood. They were known criminals, which was odd considering Hood’s own reputation, but you tried not to think about it too much. The morning had started out rough, mind running rampant; it was gonna be another one of those days where grief just seemed to be a little tougher. You weren’t sure what caused it, but no one ever seemed to with such an intense and extensive emotion. Autumn seemed to be a particularly difficult time to deal with it—the hours of sunlight starting to lessen and more rain in Gotham.
Makeup done and hair pulled half up, you slowly pulled on the outfit you’d chosen for the day. With your bag finally in hand and a final glance at your apartment, you headed out. You had decided when you first woke up that you needed a stop by a nearby café before work today. It was just one of those times when you did what you could handle mentally and took the easier route with the rest. Your mind wandered as you stood to the side waiting for your order, subconsciously swinging your umbrella back and forth from your fingertips. Sometimes it was exhausting trying to fathom that Jason wasn’t here to see where you’d gotten in life. You wondered what he’d be up to; where he’d have been working, where he’d live, if he’d still be Robin… That last thought was notably more painful to think about, it being the very thing that got him killed. Those thoughts finally returned to the backseat once your name was called and you grabbed your drink.
You elected to listen to music for the walk to work to keep your mind quiet. Lord knew you didn’t need to be fighting back tears at work, especially when you worked for the man that had also lost Jason. At the very least, today would be a more relaxed work day. It was fall break for school, so there weren’t any assignments to worry about. The walk was relatively easy since your apartment complex wasn’t too far from Wayne Tower. Rain also seemed to run crowds off the streets, leaving less people to dodge.
When you finally got to the doors of the tower, you stood under the awning and shook off your umbrella. The lobby was warm and smelled like apple and cinnamon; the receptionist must have gotten a new air freshener. The elevator was empty when you got on, which was a relief to you. Today wasn’t really a people day either. A ding rang out into the small space as you reached your floor. Your desk and space occupied the little area outside of Bruce’s office. It was nice—the whole building was, really—so you had no complaints. You sat your bag down on the floor next to your desk chair and powered on the computer on the desk. While everything powered on, you stood to open the blinds to the windows behind your desk, thinking about what all you needed to do to get the gala Bruce had asked you to plan in order. The natural light was preferable over the grating fluorescent lights above. Luckily you had control over whether those lights were on or not. This little routine was one of the many things Jason waited for you to do. He didn’t come by and watch you every single day obviously, he was a busy man after all. The world never slowed down, not even for people who had died and come back. He did have a schedule though. Friday mornings were a time that was usually open for him, so he perched himself on a rooftop facing your window and just watched.
From what he’d gathered by watching you for the last few months, Bruce didn’t seem to work you too hard. Good. He wouldn’t have that prick stressing you out everyday. Something else he had picked up on was how you dressed. It was so different from how you’d dressed before he’d died. Back then you were either stuck in the sucky Gotham Academy uniform, or you had on a simple shirt and jeans—having been in that little awkward part of life where you’re just starting to figure yourself out. Now you sat in that black leather seat in some sort of button up or sweater, with either a nice skirt or slacks. He wasn’t sure how he felt about it. Obviously you looked good, there was no way for you to possibly look bad, but he also couldn’t help but be a little stunned by how much you had changed over the years. Of course he knew part of how you dressed had to do with your job, but he’d seen you a few times when you were out with the friends you’d made at work too, and **those** outfits were something to stop and look at. You didn’t dress like most girls did when they went out for an evening—something skimpy and flashy—you drew in attention with the colors you chose and how correlated everything was. You were coordinated, that was the best word he could use to describe you.
Jason had also noted the little detail of how you always had a book in your bag, and how you’d pull it out to read on the days where you got everything on your to-do list done early. The books you read were from a range of different genres—some romance, some thrillers, some mysteries, and even a few classics. Several of the books he’d watched you read were ones he’d suggested to you when the two of you were younger, and he certainly didn’t let that fact fly over his head. He was surprised by how many little things you did somehow circled back to him. The thought always made him pause for a moment.
When he got there to watch you for the day, he noticed immediately that your demeanor seemed to be a little different. Like you were running at a slower caliber. He watched as you clicked around on your computer and typed some things into a calendar, then writing them down in your own little physical planner to stay on track. Nothing you did while you were at Wayne Tower would be particularly interesting to anyone else, but Jason enjoyed the days he got to just sit and watch you do little mundane tasks for Bruce. And because it was Jason, he even had a little device that let him hear into the office and listen to your sweet voice. It had deepened a little over the years, but it was still definitely your voice. He listened in as you picked up the landline and punched in a phone number.
“Hello, is this Mrs. McLaughlin? Good! I was just calling on behalf of Mr. Bruce Wayne. I’m planning an upcoming gala for Mr. Wayne, and I was asked to contact you about catering for the event.” Your voice was as sweet as syrup, a habit of business.
The conversation went on, light but professional, as the two of you got things planned out. Eventually you said your polite farewells and hung up the phone. A few more similar calls took place as you called the different people needed to get the gala in order. Jason just sat and listened to every single one, even if your words didn’t vary much from call to call. He was just happy to be hearing you talk. When all your phone calls were done, and you checked off everything you had figured out, you spun in your chair while you took a moment to breathe.
“I wish you could see all this. I miss you, Jason,” you appeared to glance up as you spoke.
That one took Jason by surprise. Did you really think about him that often? Sure he thought about you at any available moment, but to think you were still considering some dumb fifteen year old boy in your day to day life was a little shocking to him. You spun back to your desk, thankfully seeming to have not noticed where he sat on a nearby rooftop. He wasn’t really sure what would happen if he got discovered, since what he was doing could technically be considered stalking.
The day seemed to move in slow motion for you; rain tapped against the windows as you planned things out in Bruce’s schedule for the next few weeks. You kept a sneaky earbud in as you worked, not that Bruce would really say anything. As intimidating as he came across, Bruce Wayne was a lot more empathetic and considerate than people would think. You tapped your pen against the desk as meetings seemed to stack up—how Bruce didn’t lose his mind you’d never know. Lucky for you, you were just the secretary who put everything together. At some point, you seemed to have Bruce’s schedule all sorted out and had a free moment. Of course, your mind had to drift off again. It was always about Jason, his absence seeming to have consumed your mind. It felt like a constant state of denial, like there was no real way he was actually gone. Every day wasn’t like this, you swore up and down, but the days that were like this were excruciating to get through.
Jason watched as you leaned against your hands, fingers rubbing your temples. It was clear something was bothering you, and based on your previously whispered words, he bet he had a pretty good guess as to what. As much as he would’ve loved to see you—as himself—he wasn’t ready to risk Bruce finding out… or you either, really. He could only imagine what kind of reaction you’d have. Someday, hopefully. What he wouldn’t give to have your old relationship back.
Somewhere around ten thirty, Bruce came out of his office to check on you. Jason heard him ask about your walk to the office—making sure you stayed careful and safe—and watched as you offered him a polite smile and reassured him your route was safe. Bruce nodded simply and left to get himself another coffee from the breakroom. You sat there with a heel dangling off the tips of your toes, a subtle fidget you had picked up on. Another thing about days when the loss of Jason particularly affected you was that it was much harder to sit still, mind desperately craving a distraction.
Eventually, it was time for Jason to head off to deal with one of his jobs. He always hated it when he had to leave you behind, but his schedule dragged him away. The rest of your day in the office was spent filling out some paperwork for Bruce and organizing some files in his office. Bruce made easy conversation with you, which was a nice break from the feelings tugging at your heart. When everything was done, Bruce headed out for the evening, and you shortly followed behind.
The rain had slowed down a bit, but it still sprinkled enough to need your umbrella, so you flipped it open and made your way in the direction of your apartment. Nothing sounded more appealing than ending a rainy fall Friday with a nice hot bath. The motivation needed to get through your walk. When you got into your apartment, you immediately put everything where it went and headed to the bathroom. The insistent thoughts seemed to bleed out to the edges of your mind as the sound of running water filled the room. In all honesty, you just wanted to sleep off the rest of the day… or maybe even the whole weekend—you just needed a factory reset. When the tub was finally full, you stripped and stepped into the foaming bubbles floating on the surface. The faint burn of the high temperature was nice—a light shock to your nerves—it eased the tension in your muscles and soothed the faint distant ache in your heart.
About an hour passed by, you just sitting in the tub, some random show playing on your laptop from where it sat on one of your dining chairs next to the tub. It was a good way to escape. But eventually the water ran cold, and you had to get out. Chills seemed to come in and spoil everything—like the chill that had run up your spine when Bruce told you Jason had passed. You’d never forget that feeling. Walking into your room, you got dressed in a tank top and shorts, slipping into a very old hoodie that had been Jason’s that you just couldn’t bring yourself to stop wearing. Once you were done with your entire after-shower routine, you wandered into the living room to put something—not the news—on. The day had been too overwhelming to even think about cooking for yourself, so you opted to order something.
You sat around watching your show while you waited for your food. At some point your phone buzzed, double buzz signaling it was an actual text—it was one of the coworkers that you’d befriended asking if you’d want to go out with her and some of the other girls the next evening. It had been a little bit since you’d gone out to do something other than to go to work, get groceries, or visit your parents, so you agreed. Maybe it would help you get your mind off things if you woke up and still felt like grief had hit you like a truck. What you wouldn’t give to be able to go somewhere and hang out with Jason for the day. Sure you’d made other friends since working for Bruce, but no one would ever be as good as Jason. Seemed stupid to think, since he was fifteen years old the last time you’d seen him.
Somewhere between the text and drifting off thinking about Jason, you got a message saying your food deliverer was down in the lobby of your building. You’d always opted to get your food there so strangers didn’t know where you lived; it was Gotham City after all. Once you were back in your apartment, you sat back down on the couch and ate. The hours went by, and you’d cleaned everything up for the night. Finally done with the day, you brushed your teeth and got in bed. The sheets were warm, and the comforter was a nice, calming weight that helped you drift off.
During the night, on his way back from some meeting he’d had, Jason paused on a rooftop across from your building. He debated on coming in through your window again, but opted not to. Instead, he compromised with himself and said he’d just drop by on your fire escape and just do a quick check on you through your bedroom window. For all the bad things he’d done since being brought back to life, nothing he ever did that was directed towards you would ever be bad. You only pulled the purest of intentions from him.
He could see you through those shear plum colored curtains drawn over the window—sound asleep tucked under the covers. The thought of how beautiful you looked framed by your hair on the pillow pried its way into his mind. Admittedly, he’d definitely had a crush on you back when you were young. Obviously he’d never told you. Never got the chance. But maybe someday he’d use his second chance—though cursed—to tell you. As miserable as it had been to be resurrected, he couldn’t deny that the thought of being in your presence again made it all worth it. After watching you for a short while, he continued his route back to one of his safe houses.
The next morning, you slept in, having nothing you really had to do till that evening. The cool of fall in Gotham made your body faintly ache, so you laid in bed under the covers for a good chunk of time. Eventually you decided it was time to get up and do something with your day until time to get ready to go out. A faint hum resounded in your kitchen while your coffee machine brewed. You leaned against the island while you waited, arms crossed and engulfed in the sleeves of Jason’s old hoodie. The hoodie hadn’t been washed since Jason had let you “borrow” it, which would be disgusting if you’d worn it anywhere but your apartment, but you hadn’t. A beep pulled you from the spot you’d zoned out staring at while waiting, signaling the coffee was ready. The dark liquid was poured into a beige ceramic mug with robins painted on it—ironic considering what you’d known about Jason—and sweetened with creamer and milk.
Of course, you had to follow your routine, so you circled to your couch on the other side of the island and turned on the TV to watch the news. Much to no one’s surprise, some of Red Hood’s little errand boys were on the screen being arrested, for a drug deal no less. A scowl pulled at your features as you thought back to the day when you’d gotten back to your apartment and he’d been *sitting there* like he owned the place or something. What a douche. You definitely had some words in mind for if he ever dared to come back. Eventually the screen panned back to the reporter for the morning and she continued telling the story. It was the same nonsense it always was. Slowly, you finished your cup of coffee and pried yourself away from the TV. You let it play in the background while you made yourself a small breakfast and ate at the counter. It only took a few minutes for you to wash your dishes from the night before and that morning, so you decided to pick out an outfit for your evening out. The Gotham wind had a bite to it in the fall, so a long coat would definitely be worn over any dress or skirt you chose—heck, maybe you’d even have to wear tights to keep the chill out of your legs just slightly.
For the first time in a while, the day seemed to fly by; whether it was due to excitement or dread remained unclear. You took a warm shower—washing your hair, exfoliating, shaving, the works. You knew after a night out there’d be no motivation to do it afterward, so beforehand it was. Once out, you went through your routine, this time blow-drying and styling your hair, as well as doing makeup. After you were ready, you put on your outfit—you’d opted for something with tights to try and keep your legs warm. After everything, you’d spent a decent amount of time getting ready, so it wasn’t too far off till you had to leave. To wait, you went back out to the living room and sat on the couch just scrolling on your phone. What you didn’t notice was the edge of a red helmet peaking in at the corner of your window. Lucky Jason had his evening free.
He’d somehow managed to catch wind of your plans for the night; friend of a friend. You looked incredible, of course. It almost drove him mad. He’d gone and died, and now he wasn’t the one spending an evening with you looking like *that.* Another thing on the list of reasons he wanted to wipe the Joker out. But for now, he had all the time in the world just to watch you. Naturally, some remnants of the sweet kid he used to be urged him to feel guilt for—what was admittedly—stalking. He knew realistically it was weird, creepy even, but he just couldn’t stop himself. Until the opportunity to approach you *as Jason* presented itself, this was his only option. Finally, he watched you get up and head towards the door with your purse and phone in hand. He waited on the fire escape, seeing you head out the entrance of your building and up the street. You never left his line of sight, him following from rooftops until you made it to the little bar you were meeting your friends at. Unfortunately, the only plan he’d come up with to watch you inside was to trade his helmet for a pair of sunglasses—brilliant, he knew.
You sat at a table in a corner with your friends, all with your first drinks. As he could’ve guessed, you weren’t a heavy drinker, so while your friends were giggling and doing a few shots, you just slowly sipped your first drink—unsurprisingly light on alcohol. He tried to keep himself inconspicuous in an opposite corner, watching you joke around and laugh with the group of girls. It pleased him to see you with a group of girls finally; he still remembered you having a difficult time making friends back in school and how it had always bothered you a little bit. They seemed good for you. He did also notice the way that men walking by would glance at you for a moment, and *that* almost made him want to die a second time. Yeah, you were ethereally beautiful, but they didn’t have to *ogle* you like that.
Eventually, you did get up for a second drink, proclaiming it would be your last for the evening. While at the bar, Jason noticed this one guy who just would *not* quit staring at you; that was where his irritation started—just starting to simmer beneath his ribs. You sat back down with your drink and continued your conversation; things were back to peaceful, and Jason almost forgot about the weird guy. But then the guy tried to buy you a drink, and regardless of how polite you’d been when you declined, he blew up. Voices were raised, and no one was stepping in. He knew he had to step in, but it definitely wasn’t going to be as *himself*. Somehow he managed to sneak outside and behind the bar, tugging his helmet back on and rushing inside. The dude still somehow had the air in his lungs to keep yelling at you—it pissed Jason off to see a guy with such nerve. Nearly every head in the room turned at the sight of the infamous red helmet, and the booming footsteps didn’t help.
The room went quiet when Jason reached the guy and tapped him on the shoulder. “Hey buddy.” And went dead silent when he popped the guy in the jaw.
He didn’t even dare to retaliate; everyone knew what happened to anyone who fought back against Red Hood. He just crawled away and jumped to his feet to run out the door. No one called the police; they just slowly went back to their chattering. Your friends stared at Jason wide-eyed, and you- you just gave him a *look*. It was a look that—while grateful—still displayed the annoyance from that night he’d waited for you in your apartment. Everyone was done after the incident, so Jason got a cab for your tipsy friends and offered to walk you to your apartment. As much as you wanted to argue, you didn’t doubt the concept of him just sneaking in through your window anyway, so you agreed.
The walk was mostly silent. Jason commented on not being able to stand guys like that, and you just nodded. It killed him that you wouldn’t even talk to him, but considering you had no idea it was *him*, he wasn’t surprised. The two of you reached your building, and he insisted on making sure you got to your door.
Once there, you stood in the doorway, finally taking a moment to look at—well—his helmet. “What’s with your little obsession with me?”
A warbled snort came through his voice modulator. “You’ll find out soon enough.” And with that, he disappeared down the hallway, leaving you standing there speechless.
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@alyhorse6 • All rights reserved. No reposts, copies, adaptations, or translations without permission. Please ask first if you'd like to translate my work.
Ok, listen to me, hear me out. Each batfam member has a devastating female artist (minus Duke, Cass, and Steph because I’m still familiarizing myself with them😔)
• Bruce Wayne = Lana Del Rey
• Dick Grayson = Phoebe Bridgers
• Jason Todd = Ethel Cain
• Tim Drake = Mitski
• Damian Wayne = Adrianne Lenker
• Barbara Gordon = Annabelle Dinda
Keep in mind, this is just my take. Let me know if you guys have any different opinions or any for Duke, Cass, and Steph.
"-but for someone who rarely initiated contact" excuse me? jason todd would crack open your chest cavity and crawl inside your skin given the chance. his hands are on you every second of every day
The Croft Manor library was supposed to be quiet. Keyword: supposed. Instead, the room echoed with the sound of muddy boots tracking across the marble floor. You didn’t even look up from your book.
“…Lara.”
Silence. Another step. Then another.
“…Lara Croft.”
“Hello, darling!” Lara’s cheerful voice rang out.
You slowly closed your book. Standing in the doorway was your wife, the legendary archaeologist herself, covered in dirt, scratches, and leaves stuck in her braid. You stared.
“…You promised.”
Lara winced slightly.
“Well—”
“You promised this time would be a short expedition.”
“It was!”
“You were gone for three months.”
“In archaeological terms that is short.”
You pinched the bridge of your nose. Lara cautiously approached you like a lion approaching something that might bite.
“Before you say anything,” she added quickly, “I did bring you something.”
Your eyes narrowed.
“Unless that something is a time machine so you can come home sooner, I don’t—”
She placed a small velvet box on the table. You froze.
“…Lara.”
She opened it. Inside sat a delicate ancient ring. Gold. Engraved. Beautiful.
“I found it in a Byzantine temple,” Lara explained proudly. “About 1,200 years old.”
You stared at her.
“…You stole an artifact.”
“I rescued it.”
“Lara.”
“Alright, fine, I stole it.”
You tried not to smile. Tried. Failed. Lara noticed immediately and grinned.
“Ah, there it is.”
“You’re unbelievable,” you muttered.
She stepped closer, gently taking your hand. Her thumbs brushed over your knuckles, grounding and warm despite the cold air she carried from outside.
“I missed you,” she said softly.
Your irritation melted a little.
“…You say that every time.”
“And it’s true every time.”
Lara slipped the ring onto your finger beside your wedding band. Perfect fit.
“You didn’t have to bring me treasure,” you said quietly.
Lara leaned closer.
“But I like spoiling my wife.”
Your face warmed. Before you could respond, Lara wrapped her arms around your waist and lifted you slightly off the floor.
“Lara!”
She buried her face in your neck.
“You smell like home,” she murmured.
You sighed, giving in as your arms slid around her shoulders.
“You smell like a jungle.”
“Romantic.”
“Not remotely.”
Lara laughed softly. Then she pulled back just enough to kiss you. Gentle. Warm. The kind of kiss that carried months of missing each other. When she finally pulled away, her forehead rested against yours.
“So,” Lara said.
“Yes?”
“How angry are you exactly?”
You pretended to think.
“…Moderately.”
“Punishment?”
You smiled sweetly.
“You’re staying home for the next month.”
Lara gasped dramatically.
“A month?!”
“You married me.”
“Darling,” she said, grinning as she kissed you again, “best decision I ever made.”
Chapter 2 of An Appointment with the Past should be up by tomorrow. I’m trying to make this chapter longer, but I’ve not gotten to write because I’ve been job searching for the summer since I don’t have classes🙃
Chapter 2 of An Appointment with the Past should be up by tomorrow. I’m trying to make this chapter longer, but I’ve not gotten to write because I’ve been job searching for the summer since I don’t have classes🙃
jason would type with perfect grammar, auto caps on, little to no abbreviations unless necessary, and even when he's on patrol and typing one handed his spelling is immaculate
in which, JASON TODD from THE DCU reunites with much more than an old friend.
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includes: jason todd x high-schoolsweetheart!reader, fem!reader, angst -> hurt / comfort, kissing, brief making-out, ex-boyfriend!jason, reader struggles with grief, 3.5k words.
‧₊˚✩彡
based on this request ; part 1.5 - "AS IT WAS,” ; part 2 tbp
YOUR APARTMENT was cold. just like how you had always kept it after jason died. cold to chill your bones, cold to shock your system, and cold to give you a reason to wake up every morning because without jason peter todd in your life, getting out from underneath the safety of your sheets had been fucking hard.
you were worried you'd acclimatize, get used to the frost nipping at your fingertips and elbows and nose every morning-- but you never did. because how could you get used to the gaping loss your lover, your soulmate, your everything, had brought with his death?
jason had been a breath of fresh air; like you were seeing colours for the first time in a world that had been previously all white and black. he had been quiet, sure, but never broody-- kind to a level in which you had a hard time fathoming, comfortable with you the same way you're comfortable with your own shadow, and easy; loving jason todd had been the easiest thing to do-- just like losing him was the hardest.
you had only been sixteen when he died.
(he had only been sixteen when he died.)
you'd known him for three years, watching him curiously until a familiar nervousness coiled in your stomach around him, your cheeks flushed when he smiled timidly at you, and you giggled innocently when he recommended literature for you and him to read together.
( "personally, i like margaret atwood," he had nodded, scratching shyly at his neck. "and while the handmaid's tale is good-- i'd tell you to read alias grace first. it's a whole experience... you'd enjoy it." jason had been so beyond his years-- interested in classic novels and literature like it was his oxygen. he was a nerd, by all traditional standards. and it had you infatuated. )
minutes blurred into hours with jason, and when his father had caught you both kissing for the first time in his sizeable library, he hadn't been surprised.
( "mr. wayne, i'm so--" you had started, feeling your face heat up at an impeccable speed. jason sat beside you, grinning like he had won the lottery; speechless and ecstatic. bruce had glanced between the two of you, his face blank, before slowly backing away and closing the library door behind him. jason's freckled cheeks tinted a deeper pink, his hand coming up to cup your jaw;
"see? old man didn't say anything-- it means he likes you."
oh how happy you had been. jason's father liked you! )
nobody had been surprised when you became a regular at the wayne mansion; often times, being greeted by his sibling like you were apart of the family. there had been no question about your future with the youngest master in the mansion; your days ahead as a wayne looking bright.
( "jaybird told me he's gonna marry you," his older brother had told you one night-- jason had gone to the bathroom, leaving you and dick alone in the living room together, movie on the large television paused. "obviously not now, but soon." dick had tossed kernels of popcorn into his mouth with a practiced ease. you flushed, stomach swirling wildly at the thought of getting married to jason. "i told him i'd sucker punch him if he didn't." )
the night you learned jason had died replays over and over and over again in your mind, like some sick film stuck on repeat. every time you're left in silence, you hear the scream you had let out-- throat left fatally raw. every time you dream, you see his casket being lowered into the ground. every time you stare at your reflection in the mirror, the same words flash in front of your face:
jason peter todd. forever sixteen.
grief had been a terrible thing-- swallowing your life up whole, consuming every fibre of your being, and resting heavily on your shoulders like a suffocating fog infecting your lungs and making it impossible to breathe.
the last you had heard from the waynes had been a package in the mail; arriving to your parent's front doorstep, exactly two months after jason's funeral. neatly wrapped, your name written delicately on a gift tag attached to a red ribbon that encased the entire package.
your hands were shaking when you had opened it; like somehow, you knew this was their version of closure-- this was them saying good-bye.
there was a small note resting on the gift itself, addressing you:
this was in jason's school bag; its annotated, cover to cover. we all figured you'd enjoy getting to pick at his brain one last time. you're a sweet girl, and jason would never let us forget it. happy seventeenth birthday.
all the best,
the waynes.
below the note was jason's copy of alias grace.
four and a half years years later, it still remains unopened; like jason's ghost would appear should you even dare to flick through the pages.
so your apartment is cold; not just cold, freezing. because moving on, getting over it, and growing up was hard. especially knowing jason would never get the chance, forever trapped in a mindless pit of death and grief and being forever sixteen.
✰
you cannot believe your eyes. surely, this had to be some horrid joke someone was playing on you-- maybe you had even been unknowingly exposed to fear toxin; you cursed mentally, because shit. you can't remember the last time you checked the news.
jason's voice is a shock to your system, your name leaving his mouth sounding like a foreign language. jason's entire being is a shock to your system-- standing in your doorway, holding a large bouquet of your favorite flowers, looking simply bashful.
"uh," he starts, scratching at his jaw. the sound of his fingers connecting to slight stubble echoes within your apartment's corridor. "hello."
...
"what the fuck."
you don't mean to be so crude, but... what the fuck! your dead boyfriend is standing right in front of you, very much alive. instead, he's grown-- wiser, older, bigger. his chest and shoulders are broad, barely contained by the sweatshirt he's adorning; his cheeks are still freckled to the moon and back, but mean looking scars litter his face; the most noticeable one being a 'J' along his left cheek.
you remember his eyes being blue-- a soft, loving, knowing blue. like the ocean, or maybe even the sky on the sunniest of spring days. they blink back at you now almost an un-natural shade of green, and you swear they're flickering.
jason swallows, nodding his head slowly. he extends two arms gently, as if to soothe you like you're some sort of wild animal. which, in his defense, is what you feel like; probably what you look like too, considering your hair is mussed from sleep and you've dragged your hands down your face a solid thirty-six times since you've opened the door. "it's okay, i- i know you're probably really confused,"
"confused?" you exasperate, eyes widening maddeningly. "i'm--"
scared. insane. hurt. sick. grieving.
you shake your head, unbelieving of the sight in front of you. "you're supposed to be dead."
jason's shoulders fall ever so slightly. "well. i was, and now i'm not." he offers slowly. it comes out harsher than he intended, and he cringes inwardly at his tone.
"you're supposed to be dead." you repeat. your chest, you think, has not felt this tight since you were told jason had died. your mouth is parted, air beginning to enter and exit you at a quickeningly alarming rate. your throat is so tight-- you cannot breathe, cannot think, cannot see-- all you feel is your chest heaving, throat closing, and hands trembling. your eyes are watering too; you can feel them begin to shed salty tears, fat droplets rolling down your cheeks.
is this what shock is like? i think i'm going into shock, you think vaguely, hand bracing the frame of your apartment's front door. it's too hot, is another thing that floats into the edges of your mind; which is ironic, given the thermostat in your apartment's entryway reads nineteen point five degrees celcius. "fuck." you manage to mutter, still hyperventilating.
jason moves. like its habit, like its practiced, like its muscle memory-- he moves. swiping you up into his arms from underneath your knees, he cradles you to his chest. his grip on the flowers tighten, as well as your body, as he manages to shut your apartment's door behind him. his eyes scan the floor-- quickly, he places you down on one of your couches, kneeling in front of you.
"hey," he starts softly, and the way he says your name is so tender, you think if you hadn't already been crying, that would have sent you over the edge. "it's just me. which, okay, i know is a lot for you to take in-- but it's just me, jason. your jason." his hands find yours, and his thumbs begin to stroke the back of your palm comfortingly. "you don't need to be upset, baby," the petname falls from his lips like muscle memory, and his heart clenches. "i'm sorry i left you for so long; i promise i won't do it again, my poor girl," he whispers, squeezing your hands tightly. "but i'm back now, and everything s'gonna be alright, okay?"
you nod, unable to form any coherent words. tears continue to fall from your eyes, dampening your face further-- it isn't shock, though, that drives your emotions high anymore. through your upset, your palms find his cheeks, grasping gently onto this boy who you truly believed you would never see again.
it is relief.
✰
if you didn't believe jason could rip your heart to shreds any further, you would be a sorely mistaken woman.
he explains, about half an hour later, everything. his mother, the joker, the explosion, dying, being resurrected, the pit, the league. all of it.
it wrenches something deep within your gut, and you truly cannot fathom how he's just talking about all of this while cutting the stems of your flowers and gently placing them in a vase.
"so," he sighs, snipping a stalk, watching the end fall carelessly into the trash bin beneath him, "then i moved back in with bruce. which, i didn't want to at the time, but i think it's been good for my whole..."
"coming back to life thing?" you offer.
"yeah," he replies, the corner of his mouth snaking upwards the smallest bit. "that."
there's a silence that envelops your apartment afterwards. jason keeps moving methodically, apparently quite captivated in the act of prepping flowers for your kitchen table.
"why did you come back?" you ask suddenly. so suddenly, it even catches yourself off guard-- like it had been an intrusive thought that was more of an intrusive comment. "back to me." you clarify.
jason stills. "because," he says after a few moments, "don't you want to see me?"
"i do," you answer easily, ignoring how selfish the question inherently is in nature. "but if you're just here to--" you gesture vaguely to the plants within his hands. "do that, then maybe..."
you shouldn't have come.
you don't say it, your voice trailing off-- but its clear the implication hangs in the air like dead weight.
jason sets both a flower and the plant cutter down, bracing both of his arms onto the edge of your counter. "are you seeing someone?" he asks abruptly. his face has hardened, going colder. again-- you swear his eyes are flickering.
"what?" you question, face contorting into confusion. "no-- i-- shit," you swallow, chuckling quietly. you're laughing because even the thought of a date with someone else makes you nauseous. "i haven't even been out once like that since... well, you." the confession makes your cheeks burn, and you feel some form of embarrassment wash over you like cold water.
jason's face softens, and he glances downwards towards his feet. "oh." he says quietly.
"yeah." your fingers drum anxiously against the fabric of your couch.
silence overtakes your apartment again; though its charged this time, with something else-- something you haven't felt in a long time.
it takes jason only a few steps to cross your entire apartment, before he's sat beside you on the couch. there's barely an inch of space between both of you, and you can feel the heat radiating from his body; it calls to you, and your fingers twitch.
"i came back to see you because i'm in love with you." he says carefully.
if you didn't know jason todd, you'd assume he said it in a detached sort of way-- but you do know jason todd (or at least once you had known jason todd) so you read him easily; he's nervous.
"seeing all of my shit from... before, in my old room, it just..." he pauses. "there was a lot of stuff i had that was for you."
his admission makes your throat tight again.
"pictures of you, poems from you, some of your books--" the tips of his ears go a romantic shade of pink, "i even found a bottle of your old perfume that i used to spray on my pillow."
"oh, jay," you taunt, (as if things are normal, as if he wasn't dead, as if he's never been gone), bringing a hand up to your mouth to conceal your giggle.
jason turns to face you, as if he's trying to figure something out; trying to decipher something in your chuckle. his solemn expression immediately quiets your laughter, and you whisper: "oh, shit, m'sorry-- i shouldn't have laughed--"
"can i kiss you?" he cuts you off. his eyes flicker from your own to your lips, and your tongue darts out subconsciously to wet them. he mirrors you.
there is something within you that twists, so deeply, so fully, it almost makes you topple over. as you're staring at jason, the question lingering in the air, suddenly-- he doesn't look so different than from before. he looks shy, he looks timid, he looks youthful; his hair resembles the way it did, all those years ago in the back of bruce's library. his eyes-- despite the colour difference-- are soft, warm, familiar. the longer you stare, the less you see the scars that paint his cheeks, and the more you see the same freckles you used to count naively, knowing there would be no end.
all those years ago, you believed there would have been no end. you and jason would be as permanent as the stars in the sky, bound to each other in every life time and every universe.
and then there had been an end. and you had never been so lost before.
now, there's a beginning. so you tell jason:
"yes," it's breathless, and whispered so quietly, he has to lean forward to hear you like you're telling him a secret. "please kiss me."
your lips meet almost apprehensively, slotting against one another like puzzle pieces. it's sweet and its slow, your hand inching its way towards jason's thigh-- as if he'll shatter should you touch him. it's him who pulls away first, his eyes half-closed as he glances down at your now saliva-soaked lips, before they flit upwards to meet yours.
jason smiles, corners of his eyes crinkling gently.
your eyes water, and you see him falter. before he can speak-- you beat him to it, shaking both your head and hands. "m'okay," you say, though its not very convincing.
jason whispers your name skeptically, raising one of his eyebrows.
"sorry, i just--" you sniffle. "i just can't believe you're here. you're back. and sitting in front of me, with your heart beating and your lungs working and--" you need to cut yourself off, so you inhale.
"let me kiss you again," jason says, reaching a hand out to cup your jaw. his thumb swipes against your cheek, catching a stray tear. "please."
so you do. its far less timid this time, like everything is coming back to the both of you. jason's second hand reaches to gently grab the nape of your neck, pushing your face into his, deepening the kiss.
you're no less enthusiastic-- arms immediately going to rest around his own neck, your head tilting to the side, craving him deeper. all at once, it feels like you have to make up for lost time.
every minute your hands could've been intertwined with his, you laid grieving, so many people having stolen that reality from the both of you. your tongue darts out, swiping against jason's bottom lip, and you feel his movements stutter before he opens his mouth wider. every night you could have been enraptured within jason; he was out there-- cold, afraid, and alone.
you're fumbling clumsily to get into jason's lap, pressing your hands to his chest-- forcing him to lay back in the couch-- while you both still remain connected at the mouths. he obeys easily, and you swear you hear him whine when you begin to suck on his tongue.
"jay," you sigh softly, breaking the kiss; a string of spit keeps you both linked.
jason keeps his palms glued to your jaw like you're his life-line; dipping his head low, he begins to press chaste kisses to your neck. he breathes your name out-- like its serious, heavy, means something to him-- and his voice cause your skin to prickle against the vibrations.
"i don't think you understand," a kiss lands beneath your ear. "how much i've missed you." another kiss to your cheek. "every day, every night-- didn't matter where i was; i thought of you," he guides your head to turn, giving him access to the other side of your throat. "i don't remember much from the night i died," he confesses, lips cemented to your skin. "but i remember-- your face, it had been one of the last things i thought of."
jason peels himself from your body like it physically pains him, and when you look-- really look-- at him, you see his eyes are foggy. "and you're the first thing i thought of when i came back too."
you're silent. for what seems to be ages, you cannot find the words to articulate how you're feeling. your brain wracks for the right things to say, the right thing to do with your hands, or maybe even the right thing to do with your lips.
"jason." your mouth trembles, and god, you are so sick of crying tonight.
but you can't stop it; can't stop how deeply you feel for him, can't stop how badly you've needed him since he's been gone, and you can't help how much you wish he hadn't left-- no, been taken from you-- in the first place.
"i know i'm selfish." jason speaks, running a hand through his dark hair. "for coming here, ambushing you-- and expecting you to take me back like nothing's wrong," he really can't keep his hands still, can he? "but i was so sick of being apart from you, i couldn't-- fuck, i couldn't bare to not see your face, not hear your voice, not be with you for any longer."
jason doesn't know where all these words are coming from; they're flying out from his mouth unfiltered and raw, and he thinks hazily that they're cutting and jabbing and hurting you-- just like he's hurt everyone else.
but he's not hurting you-- jason peter todd is the last man on earth who could hurt you. through your tears, you take hold of his hands, finally giving them something to be still within.
"we should stop," you say, looking intensely into his beautiful green eyes. "not because i want to-- but because i think,"
you swallow. what do you think?
you think that you're overwhelmed, in shock, perhaps even hallucinating-- but mostly that you're in love.
you think that your soulmate has come back from the dead and fuck, not everyone gets the chance to start over-- so you want to do it right. when you're not overwhelmed, in shock, and certain you're not hallucinating.
you think you want to tell jason that you're in love with him too; but that truth is scary when love is a permanent thing meant for very temporary people.
"i think we should go out."
"on... a date?" jason questions, as if there was any other way you meant it. as if he cannot believe you're proposing such a thing.
"no. to the moon." you roll your eyes, swiping at them with the heels of your palms. "yes, on a date."
jason's quiet for a few moments, and you can practically see the cogs turning within his head. then he smiles-- a gentle, kind, bashful smile-- and whispers: "alright."
he can barely hesitate, reverence so clear in his voice it almost makes you sick, before adding on: "and if you wanted to go to the moon, i'd figure out how to get you there."
your face crumples, and you reach a hand out to smack jason's arm. "that's really fuckin' cheesy,"
jason shrugs-- not bothering to pretend like your jab had any effect on him. "s'true."
the air conditioner turns on-- the noisy rumble from deep inside your apartment walls whirling to life. the routine of it doesn't shock you; you've become far too accustomed to the deep ache of needing to feel something, resorting to a cold that'll seep into your bones and take ages to defrost.
goosebumps raise along your arms. for the first time in four and a half years, you finally feel cold.
PLUVOiA '25 ® - masterlist
loren's thots: i am in love w this req. in love. except im at the point where if i stare at this post for any longer, ill delete it all lmfao... also jason todd reading alias grace is so important to me bc A. its fantastic i liked it way more than the handmaids tale go read it if u have time and B. its got central themes of the mistreatment women have faced over time and how overlooked we've always been in terms of the justice system, our health, and within relationships w/ all types of diff men. and ofc!! our little feminist jason todd would be reading that!!!! like hello!! and im not even js saying that theres like,,, vids abt jason's character and how he was made to be more 'feminine' so the target audience [men] of dc would grow to dislike him. sigh hes so important to me. oh also i was totally picturing jason from ak when writing this hes so. yum. (reqs are open!!)
