Can you multitask
yes i can disappoint multiple people at once
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JBB: An Artblog!
todays bird
RMH

shark vs the universe
Cosmic Funnies

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sheepfilms
Stranger Things
styofa doing anything

Kaledo Art
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izzy's playlists!
Sweet Seals For You, Always
dirt enthusiast
Not today Justin

blake kathryn

祝日 / Permanent Vacation

seen from United States

seen from Canada

seen from South Africa
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seen from Türkiye
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seen from Singapore
seen from Iraq

seen from Belgium

seen from United States

seen from Canada

seen from Malaysia
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@betray-jaes
Can you multitask
yes i can disappoint multiple people at once
wild at heart: chapter 1 - fire in my heart
ser ducan the tall x secret targ fem! reader -
summary: you run from the weight of society and take to the road in order to escape. along the way, you are protected by a hedge knight who never asks who you truly are, only who you choose to be beside him. when at the tourney at ashford, what grows between you two is quiet and fleeting. something born of trust, and the understanding that some things are meant to be felt, not claimed.
author notes: you can look any way in this fic I’ve only determined hair color. all I can say about this chapter is: challengers between lyonel, the reader and dunk when? also thank you for all the love on the prologue and all my new followers it makes me so happy. making a pinterest board and playlist for fic soon. happy finale day!
warning: language
word count: 12k+
Masterlist
<previous chapter | next chapter (coming soon!)>
The Stags Knight
when ser duncan sneaks into your fathers tent, an unlikley freindship is formed. and when Ser duncan saves you from the wraith of a jelouse prince, a tale of romance follows
Ser Duncan the Tall x Baratheon!reader
Word count: 6,324
CW: MDI, 18+, smut, protective dad lyonel baratheon. drinking and swearing. Aerion being Aerion and cannon typical violence! Dunk is such a gentleman but hes also a little lovesick horn dog! As always only half proofread! fluff, minor angst. virigin!reader.
Authors note: a lot of the dialouge comes direclty from the show! i love dunk! he's so fun to write for! i might write more in this universe!
I think that when you're overstimulated you should appear kind of grayed out and no one should be able to interact with you like a locked character in a video game
hi first and foremost the way you write jason is. spectacular. i just. have no words like. wow. could i please request more loverboy/domestic/fluffy headcanons with gn! reader? literally whatever you want— cuddling, cooking, flustered jason (or reader) you name it! you write jason so beautifully :D
AHH THANK YOU 🫶🫶 hope you like it!!
Pt 1 • Pt 2
Loverboy Jason who doesn’t like crowds—and hates them even more when you’re in them. Gotham’s got him hovering near you, holding your hand tightly, his stance always defensive toward anyone who brushes past you too closely. It’s more than instinct; it’s something that was slowly built into him, pushing him to the edge until losing you becomes the only nightmare worth worrying about.
Loverboy Jason who’s a pathetic, grumpy drunk. He’s stumbling home with Dick keeping him upright with one arm, the other arm busy recording Jason for future blackmail material.
“Jaybird—”
“Fuck off. Where’s my love?” he mumbles, glaring at the pavement.
Dick sighs. “At home. They’re safe.”
“This is all your fault, dickhead.”
Once Dick gets Jason home, the former makes his escape. You’re holding back a smile at the sight of your boyfriend staggering toward you.
He kneels in front of you, burying his face into your stomach.
“Missed ya. Everyone’s so fuckin’ loud.”
You hum, hands moving up and down his shoulders. “Did you have fun with them?”
“No. They aren’t you.”
Loverboy Jason who lets you dye the white strands of his hair black. He’ll sit while you stand behind him, carding your fingers through his hair, telling him how soft and nice it is. He finds comfort in these quiet moments. It’s normal. Safe. Even when you playfully tug on his hair, making him bite back a groan.
Loverboy Jason who cooks for you on days he has time before patrol. The kitchen is lively, with yellow light cascading over the room and old music playing in the background. You’re sitting on the counter, eyes fixed on his concentrated stirring as if one wrong move will ruin the soup.
He grabs a spoon, scoops some up, and holds it out for you.
You grin, wrapping your lips around the metal, the soup warm and sweet on your tongue.
“Think it needs more salt, babe,” you say after tasting it.
He takes the spoon and tries it for himself. His brows furrow. “It’s fuckin’ tomato soup—why the hell is it sweet?” he grumbles while adding some salt.
Loverboy Jason whose cuddles can be a bit suffocating. He’s a big man who likes to be on top of you while he sleeps. His arms hold you tightly around the waist, his head on your chest, mouth slightly open, brows smoothed over by your presence. He’s so unguarded like this that you never complain.
Masterlist
Jason Todd loves to sleep with his arms around your waist and his head on your tummy.
He says that it's the best spot where to get lost in: it's warm and, most importantly, a very vulnerable spot— he really likes that you feel so comfortable with him.
Regardless of its shape, softness, tightness, bodily hair, etc, he will make it his personal pillow, snuggling his face against it and kissing it every chance he gets.
He likes it best when you run your hands through his hair or (even better!) speak to him while he slowly falls asleep. Your presence reminds him that he is safe: you are his shelter and his solace.
It's usual for him to want it after a particularly long and hard night, trying to make Gotham a better place for its most defenseless citizens. He doesn't want to wake you up if you're already asleep, but... he needs it more than anything.
Jason will lower himself down on the bed as gently as he can, pull your clothes up, and put his head where it belongs: on you. And if you wake up, he will apologize in whispers, his rough voice a clear indication that he wants to be pampered. "I know that it's late... still, would you, please? :("
You'd think that what is only a small gesture is actually a panacea.
If you say no, then that's... fine.
Yeah, it's fine.
He'll take longer to sleep, but it's fine: it is always your choice. You might have a difficult day, too, so he gets it. But! He will ask for it again in the morning. And if you don't want to in the morning, he'll back off and then make you breakfast instead because he loves you very much! If you say yes, he's quietly thrilled, already feeling his eyes falling closed. Jason associates your touch with security; it gives him a cozy feeling, so it's no wonder that he is soon out like a light. You will wake up with a beautiful man looking like he is in Heaven, at ease, for once.
NOT A LOT / JUST FOREVER ✹ sebastian sallow
( summary ) when harry potter said he wanted a reason to skip potions, he didn’t expect to wind up developing a kinship with a portrait of a young witch by the kitchens, but how can he complain when her smile is just as welcoming as her stories?
( pairing ) sebastian sallow x female!reader (mc), platonic!harry potter x female!reader, small mention of ominis gaunt x anne sallow
( notes/warnings ) set during the philosophers stone and the end of the deathly hallows! part of the ‘the house of the rising sun’ universe! this was supposed to be a mostly seb/minorly harry fic but it kind of inverted because i love harry potter and want to wrap him in a warm blanket and keep him safe forever. also!!! this is the first proper fic i’ve written in over a year so pls be kind 🤍. angst but mostly fluff! reader assuming a motherly role with harry! low-key sebastian assuming a fatherly role with harry too! canon-compliant violence mentions! minimal usage of y/n! not proofread!
Harry Potter had known torment like no other. Stood little over 5 foot tall, he had felt blistering rage poured from callous hands and the bitter loneliness nipping at his guts. But none of it, not the broom cupboard, not the scar, would be worse that enduring another double potions class.
And so, the boy who lived took a left turn down a spiral staircase instead of carrying on to the dungeons and followed the candlelit corridors until he found himself facing a dead-end. It was, he thought, maybe the most peaceful part of the castle he’d seen in his two months of admittance. There was no cobwebbed ceiling corners, no scathing suits of armour, no ghastly ghosts taunting his every breath. The walls were barren except for a lone portrait frame displayed on the far wall. Harry walked closer.
It was an empty frame, holding only a background of red curtains and a plush sofa. He wondered who that frame was meant to home and worried his footsteps had frightened them off. He turned to walk away, to find a shadowy area by one of the far courtyards where he could waste the rest of his two hours. But just as he did so, back already to the wall, he heard a gentle voice.
“Are you lost, sweetheart?”
ミ★ dyin' for a taste ꜜ COOPER HOWARD.
𖦹 masterlist. 𖦹 buy me a coffee!
「 ꜜsummary,, you two stay in a hotelroom to get some good shut eye, but instead you find yourselves finally working through the heavy tension the only way you know how to. 」
「 ꜜcontent,, unprotected sex ⋆ rough sex ⋆ creampie ⋆ knife kink ⋆ cutting ⋆ blood kink ⋆ blood consumption ⋆ slight overstimulation ⋆ Cooper might eat you whole. ꜜwc,, 1k. 」
© 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐇𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐍𝐑. 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦, 𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫!
Love Aggression
Jason Todd x Reader
wc: 654
You attack Jason with love because you're overwhelmed with how much you adore him.
warnings: pure fluff, Jason gets a little emotional about being loved
an: how I wish I could treat him frfr
Jason knows you're watching him, even if he can't see you out of his peripheral vision.
It's a little unnerving, to know someone is watching you silently without knowing why they're doing it. But alas, he reckons it's okay.
It's you after all, you wouldn't harm him. You're the safest person he's ever been around.
He can pinpoint the exact moment you begin to walk—no, stalk—towards where he's seated on the corner of the couch.
You round the sofa, carefully avoiding the edge of the coffee table and before he can look up from his book to greet you, you're plucking it gently out of his hands and lay it to the side.
The next sequence of events is a blur in his mind, because one moment he's holding a book and next thing he knows? He's holding your waist like a life line while you're straddling his lap, peppering kisses across his entire face and neck.
His chest heaves with the effort it takes to not pass out right there and then, and really, he should get a medal for not collapsing under the strain you're putting on his poor, thundering heart.
Without being able to get a single word in, he's subjected to having you cradle his face and lift it whichever way you please. First you're kissing his forehead, trailing feather light touches across his brow down to the bridge of his nose while muttering to yourself.
"God you're so lovely," smooch.
"And so goddamn kind to a fault," smooch.
"I can't believe you're real," smooch, "so so pretty and sweet," smooch.
It is in that very moment that Jason realises something grave.
You're not giving him a casual dose of affection, oh no. You are drowning him in so much love and appreciation he fears his brain might actually give up trying to process.
It overwhelms him—to absolutely no one's surprise—enough for him to feel his traitorous brain turn off and become one big pile of useless mush.
He knows this feeling very well, it's a fairly regular occurrence with you. Sometimes, you just overwhelm him with comfort, love and safety his brain can't handle it, so it just turns off.
His blinking becomes slower, his breathing heavier and his entire body moves more sluggishly. Instead of words, he can only let out embarrassing whines while he writhes in an attempt to counter the affection overdrive.
You just make it worse by running your hand through his hair and shushing him lovingly. "It's okay my sweet boy, just let me love you, 'kay?"
Does he have a choice? No, not really.
So, Jason Todd—all 6'4 and pure muscle—tries to be very still like an obedient puppy while you shower him in praise.
Your tone is so sugary sweet, he can't really believe you could think someone like him deserving of these honeyed words. And the way you start simplifying your speech because he knows he can't really think? Very offensive to his poor heart, your honour.
You deliver your final hit by guiding his head into the crook of your neck, patting his back while you keep sneaking kisses to the side of his face. "You deserve so many good things, Jay," you sigh dreamily, "and above all, you deserve being loved for who you are, broken shards and scars too."
That is what does it for him—that's what breaks him.
His eyes fill with tears while his hands fist the material of your shirt tighter. He can't put it into words, but somehow he believes you.
In this moment, he fully and wholly believes that he deserves you. And that is a miracle in and out of itself, only possible because you didn't leave when he pushed you away.
He will forever be grateful you saw something worth loving in him, and even more so for teaching him to see it too.
bulking season
short | smut | size difference | big ol’ beefy boy
jason todd bulks so easily.
he doesn’t even have to be super strict about it, like his body listens to him without much restriction. his muscles fill out and his stomach gets just a little pudgier.
you can tell when it makes him insecure, when his shirts that were already straining against his huge muscles start to barely fit over the extra pounds he gains. you try and convince him that it’s nothing to be ashamed of, that you know he’s just maintaining his physique. he tries to shrug it off, tell you that you’re being nice. still you kiss him extra, wrap your arms around him when you can and work around his diet with him so you can both eat together. he loved you for it.
but when he’s doing his meal prep on saturday morning, shirt nowhere to be found and his back muscles working in tandem with his huge biceps, you fight the urge to tackle him to the floor. you can smell the coffee he’s brewing you and normally that would wake you up entirely. though right now, all you want is to drag him back to bed. you stand there in the doorway, watching him move, admiring the layer of sexy pudge he put on for the winter months.
the way his thighs were bigger than ever and you gawked at them, imagining him over you. you knew he’d been hitting legs harder, training his glutes with hip thrusts and kickbacks that he upped the weights weekly. you were practically drooling at how his pants fit his perfect ass and tilting your head at it like something you wanted a bite out of.
without even turning, the heat of your intense gaze was enough to burn his back, he calls your name.
“you gonna stand there and stare all day babe?”
like a magnet, you pad over to him, drawn by his enormous stature. smaller arms wrapping around his huge frame like a ribbon around a gift. god, he was so hot.
warmer, bigger, and softer.
so when he fucked, it was way more intense.
Let's get married!
Jason Todd x f!Reader
wc: 1.35k
It's your day off, life is boring and there's absolutely nothing to do—that is, until you and Jason decide to get married on a whim.
warnings: impulsive decisions lmao, fluff, marriage/elopment, comedy
an: low-key this would be so fun to do 😭
It starts with boredom one fine evening, which is already a bad start for you and Jason.
He wasn't patrolling today—a small miracle in itself—yet the joy of his day off quickly dampens by the absolute shit weather that took ahold of Gotham.
Truly, it's like the city's polarising nature decided to express itself through the weather—one moment it's all sunshine and blue skies, the next moment the wind is howling at about a hundred kilometres a minute while rain patters violently against the windows.
So instead of going out like you'd originally planned, you both decided to have a relaxed day together. You slept until late into the afternoon, lazing around in bed while exchanging soft kisses until your necks and backs began to ache.
Afterwards, you tried just about every single thing to keep yourself occupied. From deep cleaning your apartment, reorganizing your shelves, labeling your entire book collection, catching up on bills and even baking a cake together—you did it all.
And by the end of it? The clock had merely struck five in the evening.
Now you find yourself back at the start—in your shared bedroom, cuddled into each other while you both doom scroll in sync.
"I'm never ever taking a day off again," Jason mutters above you , half the sentence muffled by the way his face is squished into the crown of your head.
He smells good—his particular shampoo and a lingering note of the cologne you'd gotten him for your anniversary last year.
The scent, coupled with his warmth and the idle patterns he traces onto your arm almost lull you right back to sleep.
"I distinctly remember you complaining about not wanting to patrol ever again three days ago," you tease, though the remark loses impact with the way you yawn.
Jason—bless his ostentatious theater kid self—gasps dramatically at the accusation, supporting himself up on his elbow to look you better in the eye.
"Baseless accusations your honour, that never happened!" He exclaims with the scandalised expression of a Victorian wife catching her husband's affair with their maid.
"Sure it didn't, I just have half an hour's worth of voice messages as proof."
"Those were taken under duress, obviously."
Jason sounds so self assured, entirely too confident in himself, it has you rolling your eyes so hard you're worried they might get stuck like that. Still, you can't help the surge of affection that blooms in your chest at the tender moment you both share—even if you're still bored out of your mind.
Just as you open your mouth to add something else, your attention is captured by a video playing on both your phones—your explore pages miraculously syncing at the very same time.
The first few seconds are of a man setting what you assume to be his phone down on the ground and sprint up the stairs of a building. A woman waits for him—radiant, smiling and wearing an elegant white dress. Usually, the dress would be considered casual, but the way she wears it with so much confidence and love makes it rival any gown out there.
The man turns to her, arms encircling her waist in a display affection. Just as the soft music drops into a dramatic pre-chorus beat, the guy dips the woman at the waist and kisses her passionately. The screen blurs before an elegant script appears on screen.
'Fuck weddings, get eloped instead.'
For an entirely too long moment, you could vividly see yourself and Jason doing the same. Wearing something white and semi formal, marching straight to the court house downtown and getting married without fuss—something small, simple and completely yours.
You notice the silence, the lack of sound from Jason and your eyes snap up to see his attention glued to the screen. He's seen the video, his eyebrows knitted in deep thought. When he glances at you, there's something in his eyes—a sort of hopeful glint that mirrors the buds blossoming in your chest.
You want to say something, but the music playing fills the silence instead.
Jason wets his lips, a nervous tick he displays when he's about to ask something that he thinks he shouldn't say out loud because it's too vulnerable. Too risky.
"Do you-" he begins, only for you to cut him off and finish the thought for him. "Do I want to do that? Yes absolutely, let's go get married."
He looks at you like you just grew a second head—which, knowing him, he might find more plausible than you just saying you want to marry him. "Are you being for real?" He asks bewildered, as if he can't fathom the thought of you wanting to spend the rest of your life with him.
With each passing moment, the prospect of marrying this maddeningly amazing man becomes not an want but an absolute must. You already can't imagine anyone else in your future but Jason, so what difference does it make if you get married now? It would suit you well, something spontaneous and uncharacteristic that reflects your relationship perfectly.
Unconventional, free and so very intimate.
"Hell yeah I am," you say sitting up. There's renewed vigor in your body that you didn't know yourself capable of having in the first place. You grab his hands, trying desperately to stop the stupid grin you know will be plastered on your face. "Let's go get married, there's no one else I'd want to spend my life with but you Jason."
This is how you end up browsing throug a thrift store downtown for a suit and a dress—both of which you surprisingly find quite quickly. In the process, you stumble upon a pair of rings that are too gorgeous to not buy. Two bands with intricate details engraved skilfully into them, turning them into something both timeless and magnetic.
You walk out of the store about eighty bucks poorer but far richer in terms of emotional fulfilment before you sprint across the street in the pouring rain to the court house.
The entire time, Jason holds your hand as if he can't remember what it ever felt like to not hold you.
The process of getting married is surprisingly straight forward and quick—so quick in fact that an hour later, you walk out with matching smiles, matching rings and matching certificates that officially declare you as married.
You celebrate your marriage by getting ice cream. The store is devoid of any customers beside you two, so you have a blast sitting in the cramped booth with your gigantic veil—Jason insisted you buy it for the 'plot' which is a sound argument to get you to agree to any stupid idea he has—and his white suit. The employee gives you a vaguely confused look but shrugs when you ask them to take pictures of you on Jason's old digital camera.
You stuff your faces full with ice cream and cake, laughing the entire time while your wedding bands remind you of the commitment you just made.
On your walk back home, it no longer rains but the sky is just as cloudy and gray as before. Still, it's almost like Gotham held its breath as way to congratulate you. You swing your intertwined hands back forth while Jason keeps glancing at you with that stupid smile you can't help but kiss.
"What are we doing next, dearest husband of mine?"
Husband. Jason Todd is now your husband. God, this is the best day off ever. You don't think you'll ever have a day as epic as this one.
He hums thoughtfully, his eyes scanning the streets like he's trying to find your next adventure just so the day can last a little longer. "How about we take some wedding pictures in that dingy photo booth near our place and then we go to karaoke?"
You beam at him, your grin matching his own satisfied smirk while you pull him forward. "Excellent plan, let us proceed husband."
"As you wish, wife."
The One Who Talks Back
navigation , dc navigation
Summary: Red Hood kidnaps someone for intel, only for them to sass him so relentlessly that he starts to question his life choices mid-interrogation. Somehow, it turns into coffee at 3 a.m. and a reluctant partnership.
requests are open
dividers by @cafekitsune
Jason Todd had kidnapped a lot of people in his career as Red Hood. Drug dealers, mobsters, corrupt cops, and the occasional arms dealer. He'd gotten pretty good at it, the intimidation, the interrogation, the careful balance of violence and restraint that got him the information he needed.
What he had not gotten good at was dealing with people who wouldn't shut the hell up.
"So, just to clarify," you said from where you were zip-tied to a chair in his safehouse, "your whole aesthetic is 'what if a motorcycle had a gun'? Because I have notes."
Jason stared at you through his helmet, genuinely at a loss for words.
"I mean, the red is bold, I'll give you that," you continued, apparently taking his silence as encouragement. "Very 'I'm angry and I want everyone to know it.' But the bat symbol? Feels a little derivative. Like you're in your Batman phase but trying to be edgy about it."
"Are you... " Jason started, then stopped. "Are you seriously critiquing my costume right now?"
"Someone has to." You shrugged as much as the zip ties allowed. "That helmet's doing you no favors. Very 'I raided a motorcycle shop and made poor choices.'"
Jason had grabbed you three hours ago from your apartment in Crime Alley. You were a low-level information broker, nothing major, but word on the street said you had connections to the new gang trying to move in on his territory. He'd expected fear, maybe some bravado, possibly some begging.
He had not expected this.
"Let me remind you," Jason said slowly, pulling out one of his guns and checking the magazine with deliberate menace, "that you're the one tied to a chair in an undisclosed location. Maybe show a little self-preservation?"
"Oh, I'm terrified," you deadpanned. "Really shaking in my boots. Can't you tell?"
"You're not wearing boots. You're wearing duck slippers."
You glanced down at your feet. He'd grabbed you right out of your apartment, hadn't given you time to change, and then looked back up at him. "I stand by my footwear choices. They're whimsical."
Jason pinched the bridge of his nose, which was a pointless gesture since he was wearing a helmet. "I'm going to ask you some questions... "
"Let me guess. 'Where's the shipment?' 'Who's your boss?' 'Why won't you take this seriously?'" You tilted your head. "How am I doing?"
"If you don't start cooperating... "
"You'll what? Shoot me? Please. You've been waving that gun around for twenty minutes and haven't fired once. You're all bark and no bite."
"I have literally killed people."
"Sure, Jan."
Jason stared at you. "Did you just… who's Jan? What does that even mean?"
"It's a meme. You know what, never mind. Not important." You shifted in the chair, trying to get comfortable. "These zip ties are really tight, by the way. I'm losing circulation."
"That's kind of the point of restraints."
"Is it though? Because I feel like the point is to keep me in one place, which... " You gestured vaguely with your tied hands. "Mission accomplished. The cutting-off-circulation thing just seems like overkill."
Against his better judgment, Jason found himself moving closer to check the zip ties. They were tight, but not dangerously so. "They're fine."
"Easy for you to say. You're not the one losing feeling in your fingers." You paused. "Although, real talk? If you're going to kidnap people, you might want to invest in better restraints. Zip ties are so 2010."
"What would you suggest?" Jason asked before he could stop himself.
"Personally? Handcuffs. More secure, reusable, and less likely to cause nerve damage. Also, they make you look more professional. Less 'improvised kidnapping,' more 'I planned this.'"
Jason realized he was having a genuine conversation about optimal restraint methods with his hostage and decided he needed to regain control of this situation.
"Enough," he said firmly. "You're going to tell me about the Scorpions' shipment coming in next week. Location, time, what they're moving."
"No."
Just that. No begging, no negotiating, just a flat refusal.
"No?" Jason repeated.
"No. I don't know anything about a shipment."
"You're lying."
"I'm really not." You met his gaze, or where his gaze would be if he weren't wearing a helmet. "I'm an information broker, not a gang member. I hear things, sure, but I don't know anything about Scorpions' operations. That's not my area."
"Your 'area' is Crime Alley. The Scorpions are moving into Crime Alley. You expect me to believe you don't know anything?"
"I expect you to believe me because it's true." You sighed. "Look, Red Hood, can I call you Red? The whole name is a mouthful."
"No."
"Cool, I'm calling you Red. Here's the thing: I deal in gossip, rumors, and low-level intel. Who's cheating on whom, which cop is taking bribes, what buildings are fronts for what operations? I'm not exactly in the inner circle of major criminal enterprises."
Jason studied you, using every tell-reading skill Batman had drilled into him. You weren't sweating, your breathing was steady, and your body language was relaxed despite being tied to a chair. Either you were telling the truth, or you were the best liar he'd ever met.
"So you're useless to me," he said.
"Wouldn't say useless. Just not useful for this specific thing." You brightened. "But hey, since you went through all the trouble of kidnapping me, I could point you toward someone who would know about the shipment. Professional courtesy and all that."
Jason didn't move. "Why would you do that?"
"Because the Scorpions are bad for business. They're aggressive, violent, and they don't respect the existing power structures. If they take over Crime Alley, people like me are out of work." You shrugged. "Enemy of my enemy and all that."
"You expect me to trust you?"
"No more than I trust you, which is currently sitting at about negative fifteen." You smiled, and it was sharp. "But we both want the Scorpions gone, so maybe we can be temporarily useful to each other before going back to our respective corners."
Jason considered this. It was logical, which was somehow more unsettling than if you'd been hysterical or defiant. You were treating this like a business negotiation, not a kidnapping.
"Who's the contact?" he asked.
"Uh-uh. Not how this works." You nodded toward your restraints. "You let me go, we go get coffee like civilized people, and then I'll tell you what you want to know."
"You think I'm going to just let you walk out of here?"
"I think you're going to realize that I'm more useful as a cooperative source than a hostile hostage." You tilted your head. "Also, it's 3 AM and I'm betting neither of us has eaten dinner. There's a diner two blocks from here that makes excellent pancakes."
"How do you know where we are?"
"Please. I've lived in Crime Alley my whole life. I know every safehouse, every warehouse, every place someone might take a person they don't want found." You paused. "Including this one, which, no offense, is pretty obvious. You're in the old Thompkins building. Everyone knows about this place."
Jason's hand moved to his gun on instinct. If you knew where you were, if you could identify his safehouse,
"Relax, Red. I'm not going to tell anyone." You rolled your eyes. "Bad for business, remember? You're one of the few people keeping Crime Alley from becoming a complete war zone. Why would I want to compromise that?"
"You're very calm for someone who just admitted knowing a crime lord's identity."
"Crime lord? That's generous. You're more of a crime... entrepreneur." You grinned at his silence. "What, not a fan of the title? Fine. Crime middle-manager. Anti-hero with anger issues. Vigilante with questionable methods. Take your pick."
"I could still shoot you."
"But you won't." You said it with such certainty that Jason actually believed you believed it. "Because I'm right about us being useful to each other, and you're practical enough to recognize that."
Jason stood there for a long moment, gun in hand, trying to figure out when exactly he'd lost control of this interrogation. It had probably been around the time you'd critiqued his helmet.
"Pancakes," he said finally.
"I'm sorry?"
"You said something about pancakes."
Your face lit up in a way that was frankly unfair given the circumstances. "So we have a deal?"
"We have a temporary arrangement," Jason corrected. "You give me intel on the Scorpions, I don't throw you off a building. Very simple."
"You're really hung up on the threatening thing, huh?" You wiggled your fingers. "Zip ties? Any time now?"
Jason pulled out a knife and cut through the restraints, stepping back immediately in case you tried anything. But you just rubbed your wrists, stood up, and stretched like you'd just woken up from a nap rather than been held hostage for three hours.
"So," you said brightly. "Your place or mine?"
"What?"
"For the clothes. I'm not going to a diner in pajamas and duck slippers." You gestured at yourself. "I have standards."
"We're not going to your place. You could have a weapon stashed, backup, a silent alarm... "
"Or I could just really not want to wear pajamas in public." You headed for the door like you owned the place. "Come on, Red. If I wanted to betray you, I wouldn't do it before getting pancakes. I'd at least wait until after. I'm not a monster."
Jason found himself following you out of his own safehouse, which was definitely not how this was supposed to go.
Twenty minutes later, he was sitting in a booth at the Bluebird Diner, still in full Red Hood gear because he wasn't about to reveal his identity to a hostage-turned-informant, while you perused the menu like this was a normal 3 AM hangout and not the weirdest night of his vigilante career.
"I'm thinking waffles," you announced. "No, pancakes. Actually, maybe French toast. What are you getting?"
"Coffee," Jason said flatly.
"That's not food."
"It's all I need."
"Spoken like someone who's never had a food-based epiphany." You flagged down the waitress, Doris, who'd been working the night shift for fifteen years and had seen weirder things than a vigilante in her diner. "Hi! I'll have the chocolate chip pancakes with a side of bacon, and my friend here will have the breakfast special."
"I didn't agree to... "
"He's shy," you told Doris. "Bring him coffee, too. Black, I'm guessing? He seems like a black coffee person."
Doris looked at Jason, looked at you, shrugged, and walked away.
"I could have ordered for myself," Jason said.
"But did you?" You propped your chin on your hand. "So. The Scorpions."
"You're really going to give me intel? Just like that?"
"I'm really going to give you intel while eating pancakes at 3 AM in a diner with a crime lord. This is called multitasking." You pulled out your phone. "Okay, so the person you want is named Marcus Webb. Mid-level Scorpion guy, loves to brag when he drinks. He'll be at the Harbor Club tomorrow night."
Jason pulled out his own phone and started taking notes. "How do I find him?"
"Tall, white guy, bad tribal tattoo on his neck. Usually wears too much cologne." You made a face. "Fair warning: he's going to hit on you."
"I'll be in my helmet."
"Trust me, that won't stop him. He's very determined." You paused as Doris returned with coffee. "Thanks, Doris. You're a star."
Jason waited until the waitress left before continuing. "What's his weakness? What's going to make him talk?"
"Ego. Tell him you're impressed by the Scorpions' operation, ask him to explain how they're so successful. He'll tell you everything just to show off."
"That actually works?"
"You'd be surprised how many criminals just want someone to acknowledge how clever they think they are." You added cream to your coffee with the focus of a scientist. "It's like they're all desperate for validation but chose crime instead of therapy."
Jason snorted before he could stop himself.
You looked up, grinning. "Was that a laugh? Did the Red Hood just laugh at my joke?"
"No."
"That was definitely a laugh. I'm counting that as a laugh."
"It was not... " Jason stopped as Doris returned with your pancakes and his apparently ordered breakfast special. "I didn't ask for this."
"You need to eat," you said simply, already drowning your pancakes in syrup. "Can't fight crime on an empty stomach."
"I've been fighting crime on an empty stomach for years."
"And how's that working out for you?" You pointed your fork at him. "You're tense, aggressive, and you kidnapped an innocent information broker. Sounds like someone needs a Snickers."
"You're not innocent."
"Fair. But I'm also not wrong." You took a bite of the pancakes and made a sound that was frankly inappropriate for a public place. "Oh my god. These are amazing. You have to try them."
"I'm not taking off my helmet in front of you."
"Right, the whole secret identity thing." You considered this. "What if I close my eyes?"
"What if you don't, and I don't eat the pancakes?"
"Your loss." You stole a piece of bacon from his plate. "More for me."
Jason watched you eat his bacon, his bacon, that he hadn't even agreed to order, and realized he was having the most surreal conversation of his life. And he'd died and come back, so that was saying something.
"Why are you helping me?" he asked suddenly.
You paused mid-bite. "I told you. The Scorpions are bad for business."
"That's not the whole reason."
You were quiet for a moment, and for the first time that night, your expression turned serious. "You actually give a shit about Crime Alley. Most people, cops, heroes, whatever, they write this place off. Too dirty, too dangerous, too far gone. But you actually try to protect people here."
"So?"
"So some of us notice. Some of us appreciate it." You went back to your pancakes. "Also, you didn't shoot me, which I feel like deserves recognition. Really showed restraint there."
"The night's not over."
"Ever the optimist." You grinned. "I like you, Red. You're like a very angry, heavily armed golden retriever."
"I'm going to shoot you."
"No, you're not. You're going to eat your eggs and then we're going to plan how you're going to approach Marcus Webb tomorrow night." You pushed his plate toward him. "Come on. I ordered it specially for you."
Jason looked at the food, looked at you, and made a decision that was definitely going to come back to haunt him. He reached up and pressed something on his helmet that loosened the seal enough to eat while still keeping his face mostly covered.
"Oh, we're doing this? We're having a moment?" You tried to peek. "Do you have a jaw? I feel like you have a jaw."
"Stop trying to see my face."
"Can't blame a girl for trying." But you did look away, focusing on your own food. "For what it's worth, I'm sure you're very pretty under there."
"I'm not pretty."
"Handsome then. Ruggedly attractive. Whatever you want to call it."
Jason ate his eggs in silence, trying to figure out how this had become his life. An hour ago, you'd been his hostage. Now you were giving him intel, buying him breakfast, and complimenting his hypothetical jawline.
"This doesn't make us friends," he said finally.
"Obviously not. We're professional associates with a shared goal and a mutual appreciation for breakfast foods." You finished your pancakes and started eyeing his bacon again. "Are you going to eat that?"
Jason pushed the plate toward you without comment.
"See? We're bonding." You took the bacon triumphantly. "Next thing you know, we'll have inside jokes and matching friendship bracelets."
"That's not happening."
"You say that now, but I'm very persistent." You pulled out your phone. "Give me your number."
"Absolutely not."
"How else am I going to text you updates about the Scorpions?"
Jason considered this. "I'll find you when I need information."
"By kidnapping me again? That's so inefficient." You waved your phone. "Just give me your number. I promise I won't send you memes. Okay, I'll probably send you memes, but they'll be good ones."
Against every instinct, every lesson Batman had taught him about operational security and maintaining distance from assets, Jason pulled out his phone.
"This is a burner," he said, reading off the number. "I change them regularly."
"Cool, I'll just keep asking you for new numbers." You typed it in and immediately sent him a text. "There. Now you have mine too."
Jason's phone buzzed. He looked down at the message: This is your friendly neighborhood info broker. Reply 'RED' if you're actually Red Hood and not some other heavily armed vigilante.
Despite himself, Jason typed back: RED.
Your phone buzzed, and you grinned. "Excellent. Now we're in business." You stood up, throwing money on the table for both meals. "My treat, since you provided the entertainment tonight."
"I didn't... "
"The kidnapping. That was very entertaining." You headed for the door, then paused. "Same time next week?"
"Why would we do this again?"
"Because the Scorpions aren't going anywhere fast, and I have more intel you'll probably want." You shrugged. "Plus, the pancakes are really good, and eating alone is depressing."
Jason stood there, watching you walk out of the diner in your duck slippers like you owned the night, and realized he'd just made a deal with the most frustrating person he'd ever met.
His phone buzzed again. Another text from you: thanks for not shooting me. You're my second favorite vigilante now.
Jason typed back before he could stop himself: Who's your first?
Orphan. She has better taste in costumes.
Jason snorted, then caught himself and looked around to make sure no one had noticed.
This was a bad idea. You were unpredictable, irreverent, and far too comfortable around someone who'd literally kidnapped you. You were a security risk, a potential liability, and you'd somehow managed to steal his bacon.
His phone buzzed a third time: see you next week, red. Bring your appetite and your listening skills. I have thoughts about your motorcycle.
Jason stared at the message, then at the diner where you'd just been sitting, then back at his phone.
He was definitely going to regret this.
But as he grappled back to his safehouse, stomach full of breakfast food he hadn't planned on eating, with your number saved in his phone and the intel he needed, Jason realized that maybe, just maybe, regret wasn't always a bad thing.
His phone buzzed one more time: PS - you totally laughed at my joke. I'm counting that as a win.
Jason smiled under his helmet, then immediately stopped.
Yeah. He was definitely going to regret this.
But probably not as much as he should.
💭 shotgun kisses with jason todd
suggestive, smoking, mdni
You were in the backyard of the manor with your boyfriend, his siblings, and a couple of their friends, sitting in a circle around the bonfire. You were sat next to your boyfriend who had a joint in his hand, passing it back and forth among his friends.
You were quite used to Jason smoking in your shared apartment’s fire escape, you even smoked with him once, though it had only managed to make you cough up the bitter taste and you had never tried it again. You did eat edibles with him –on the rare occasions he chose to forgo smoking and eat a hash brownie instead.
What surprised you was that Dick, Tim, Wally, Roy and even Kory (who only took a drag) smoked. Jason had told you they only ever smoked weed and that too on rare occasions. Bruce being out of Gotham on a mission and leaving the manor to his kids while Alfred accompanied him just gave them an open opportunity.
The martinis you had been sipping on –that Barbara had prepared for herself, Cass, Steph and you– were beginning to make your eyes feel heavy.
You shifted in your seated position, grabbing ahold of Jason’s bicep and rested your head on his shoulder as you stared silently at the crackling fire.
He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of your head and let his head rest against yours as he took another drag.
“Pizza’s here, who’s getting it?” Tim asked, glancing at his phone.
All of them said Damian’s name in unison.
“You’re the youngest that’s the rule,” Dick chuckled.
Damian huffed and stood up, making his way inside the manor to get the pizza.
“Jay, I wanna try,” you said, watching Dick smoke a drag and pass the joint to Kory.
He looked at you for a beat too long as you stared back into his blue-green eyes, perfectly framed with long black lashes and currently shaded with redness.
“Let’s try something,” he mumbled, “Come here.”
He cupped your cheek with one large hand and took a long drag with another, holding it in while rubbing his thumb on your lower lip as a gesture for you to open your mouth.
You had seen and read about shotgun kisses multiple times in your life but had never tried it and the thought of an audience being present around you while he transferred smoke in your mouth was enough to make you blush and rethink your proposal. But one look around the circle made you realise that no one was looking at your way.
You obliged and opened your mouth, letting Jason lean down and blow the smoke directly into your mouth and before you had the chance to cough, he sealed his lips against yours.
His other hand traveled to your waist as he sucked in a harsh breath and pulled you even closer to him until you were perched on his thighs.
You were starting to believe that the weed was already getting to his head because he always got just a bit more clingy and handsy every time he got high.
You were guessing the joint was now in someone else’s hand because Jason was holding you with one hand on your waist and the other on the back of your head, pulling you in. Like he would combust if he didn’t have a death grip on your whole body.
He let out a shaky breath as his tongue teased the seam of your lips, making them part. He took the opportunity and shoved his tongue in your mouth, rubbing against your own, at the roof of your mouth and your lower lip, making you let out quiet whimpers.
You felt his sharp teeth tug at your bottom lip and bite enough to draw blood before he licked it clean. You gasped and felt Jason’s lips curl into the kiss like he was enjoying this way too much. You grasped his bicep, digging your nails as if to ground yourself while he devoured your mouth like he would die if he stopped.
Behind Jason, you heard Dick let out a whistle. “It’s those damn shotgun kisses I’m telling you,” he commented, making Steph laugh loudly before you felt something soft hit the side of your head.
“Jason let the poor girl breathe,” Roy huffed out a laugh but Jason didn’t budge, only kissing you harder as if to prove a point.
“Jay!” Cass snickered as you felt yet another marshmallow hit your head.
You pulled away from Jason but he leaned forward as if he could catch your lips with his again but you put a finger on his lips, backing him away. His mouth red, swollen and glistening. His cheeks flushed red while his hair looked tousled like he had just gotten out of bed.
“Thanks for the free porn Jason,” Tim commented, throwing more marshmallows at Jason’s head.
“Thought I’d do you service since you don’t get any,” Jason replied, giving Tim a tight smile.
Beside him, you were still flustered. You were doing your best to hide your face in his shoulder because Jason wasn’t big on pda, he barely even kissed you when out in public so this surprised you to say the least.
“What’s wrong?” Jason checked, looking down at you when everyone else once again got busy with their conversation.
“Nothing,” you replied.
He put his finger under your chin, making you look up into his eyes that were filled with amusement. “Are you blushing?”
“Stop,” you huffed, pushing his face away, making him snicker.
“Babe it’s okay, I’ve walked in on Dick and Kory multiple times. He mostly doesn’t care where he is it’s horrible.”
“I’m fine really,” you replied. “I just wish we were alone right now,” you murmured, fiddling with the hair at the nape of his neck.
“We can go upstairs, my childhood bedroom with a twin bed is really sturdy believe me,” he offered with a wink that shouldn’t have been as attractive as he made it look.
“No you freak,” you giggled, flicking his forehead.
“I have a situation, help me out here,” he groaned lightly and shifted in his seat to make you feel the situation he was talking about.
“Jason!” You hushed, covering his mouth with your palm.
He chucked again as you felt him kiss the palm of your hand before you pulled away and another joint miraculously made its way into Jason’s hand.
You rested your head ln his shoulder while he held your waist with one hand and brought the joint up to his lips with the other, taking a drag.
You stared at his perfect side profile, his button nose, his rose coloured lips, his deep eyes that you could drown in, his beautiful tuft of white hair that you brushed away from his face every morning because it had got long enough for him to scrunch up his nose as the strands tickled him.
You wanted to groan at how pretty he was.
You looked even closely at the freckles dusting his nose and cheekbones. You loved tracing them with your eyes, drawing constellations out of them every time he fell asleep with his head on your lap. You loved pressing light kisses on the little heart shaped freckle that was right below his lower lip.
You let out a sigh, making Jason look at you with a raised eyebrow.
“Do you want more?” He asked.
“No,” you replied, still feeling flushed.
He kissed your forehead and went back to the conversation he was having with his brothers.
“On second thought,” you began and he looked at you again.
“Let’s go see how sturdy your twin bed really is.”
You did not have to tell him twice.
requests open!
Nico: This is a mistake
Will, enthusiastically: A mistake we're going to laugh about one day!
Nico: But not today
Will, still enthusiastic: Oh, no. Today's going to be a mess
Clarisse realising she has the wrong coordinates: Jackson (derogatory)
Percy (who DID try to tell them they were wrong) feeling his name being wrongly invoked out in the open sea: