SFW compilation | Modern AU | MY OWN headcanons | bf!dickgrayson x f!reader | +small bonus at the end
âËàżá°.ádick grayson is the kind of guy who has been going to the same barber for years. In fact, his barber quit his job a long time ago, but Dick pays him extra to have him cut his hair the way he likes it. After all, only his barber knows exactly how to cut Dickâs hair and keep his unique style intact.
âËàżá°.ádick grayson is the kind of guy who is a clean freak. He always smells of men's shampoo with a slight fruit scent and shower gel with a light, fresh scent. He has a whole bunch of self-care products in his bathroom â most of them he got through advertising collaborations.
âËàżá°.ádick grayson is the kind of guy who won the genetic lottery: as a teenager, he never suffered from acne, and his skin was always perfectly healthy. He has a strong immune system, strong bones and straight teeth. While men his age (closer to thirties) start to worry about alopecia, he suffers from the thickness of his hair. There's no need to say anything about his appearance; it's clear enough: nature has given him everything every man could want.
âËàżá°.ádick grayson is the kind of guy who loves learning new things. Despite his image of a playboy, heâs actually intelligent. In his free time, he listens to podcasts on a variety of topics, from politics to theories about other dimensions. Itâs unlikely for you to get bored with him, and at feasts or galas he can keep up a conversation about any topic.
âËàżá°.ádick grayson is the kind of guy who at least once a month sends a large sum to charity. He makes sure to attend various charity events, especially those related to children who have no family.
âËàżá°.ádick grayson is the kind of guy who has a whole collection of different types of perfumes. Popular ones like Bleu de Chanel, Dior Sauvage, and Acqua di GiĂČ... And niche ones, with notes of spice and wood, which he crafted himself on a vacation in Greece. Heâs always overly excited to tell you about each of the perfumes.
âËàżá°.ádick grayson is the kind of guy who manages his Instagram page himself. HeÊŒs never hired a PR team because he believes that heâs able to manage the page himself. After all, his fans should know the real him. Although, he is also very media trained, so he knows what exactly his fans should know about him, and what should stay behind the screen. He revealed your relationship with him by soft launch, too.
âËàżá°.ádick grayson is the kind of guy who loves to travel, especially to the places you dream to visit. Want to visit France? He is already booking a room in a five-star hotel, which is located near the Eiffel Tower. Want to visit Italy? He has a friend who owns the best Italian restaurant on the coast. Want to visit Thailand? He has already rented you a yacht to visit Phuket.
âËàżá°.ádick grayson is the kind of guy who loves matching clothes! Whether it's matching hoodies in public, matching bracelets he bought, or matching pajamas â he loves it. To him, it feels like you two are getting even closer this way.
âËàżá°.ádick grayson is the kind of guy who has your photo on his phone wallpaper. Sometimes, when he has some important and boring meetings with his partners, he turns on his phone and grins like an idiot when he sees you.
âËàżá°.ádick grayson is the kind of guy who is a music lover. HeÊŒs fine with any of genres, so you get to choose the songs in his car. You are in charge of the playlist â and somehow, he knows almost every song. From Justin Bieber to Kendrick Lamar. When you want to go to a concert, Dick makes sure to pay for two VIP tickets for both of you â he will go to any concert for you.
+SMALL BONUS:
DICK GRAYSONâS INSTAGRAM PAGE
AUTHORâS NOTE: Ughh i love that man. My imagination about him is wild. I wanted this to be a mix of toxic side + soft side of dick as your boyfriend, but I couldnât stop thinking about fluffđ Maybe Iâll do another part with cons of being dickâs girlfriend.
The bar isnât as busy as youâd expect for a Friday night. Thereâs by no means any shortage of people, but you were expecting to have to weave in and out of the crowd and spill your drink on at least two people before you made it to your destination.
Rather, when your boyfriend opens the door ahead of you, the level of commotion amongst the regulars isnât as unbearable as expected. He walks in first, leaving you to hold the door open for yourself. For all his good qualities, chivalry was never one of them.
He makes his way to the bar without any mind for whether or not youâre following, and orders himself one vodka sour. You know he knows your go-to drink, and you wonder if him not ordering it is his way of telling you there will be a separate bill. No, it probably hadnât even crossed his mind to tell you as much.
You stand shoulder to shoulder at the bar counter as he sips on his drink, scanning around the room.
You clear your throat, âSo um, should we split up or stick together?â
He nods blankly, âYeah, sure.â
His gaze is already caught on a target across the bar, and you know that he neither heard nor cared to hear your words. You similarly donât have it in you to care that heâs already walking away from you, instead opting to drown your concerns.
With a sigh, you find a seat at the bar and order yourself a drink.
Youâre thirty seconds into this and it already doesnât seem to be worth it. Having a threesome was your bright idea, and yeah, maybe it originated from a place thatâs a little self-serving, but you werenât prepared to have that turned back around on you. Are you just giving him the chance to fuck another girl, no consequences?Â
You take a big swig and look down at the remaining contents of the alcohol, swishing the drink around.Â
This was really nothing more than a desperate attempt to keep something going but youâre beginning to fear your man isnât much of a relationship man at all. You donât have to look across the bar to find where he went, you donât need to because you already know exactly what heâs doing. And to no oneâs surprise, heâs probably doing it without a thought in the world about you.
So now youâre starting to wonder if the whole relationship is worth all the trouble. Heâd been charming and funny in the beginningâand he still isâbut now youâre seeing all these other parts of him that you werenât expecting. Maybe calling it quits after such a short time is cruel, but itâs also starting to feel like the only option.Â
âYou alright?â
A voice breaks you away from your deliberation and has you turning to meet a pleasant surprise.
A man that you couldnât have dreamed up stands next to you, bourbon in hand, with nothing short of kindness in his eyes.
You stutter, âOh, IâmâumâŠyeah. Iâm fine.â
He nods, looking around casually.
âYouâre not here by yourself, are you?â
âUh, no. Iâm not.â You hear the words as they come out of your mouth and they sound genuinely disappointed.
You canât be sure exactly how he interprets that but he holds his hand out in front of him.
âIâm Dick,â he tells you.
You take his hand, shaking it, before telling him your own name.
He smiles upon the reveal, holding onto your hand for just a second longer than he needs to.
Truthfully, you never specified whether this threesome was going to involve a girl or a guy, but youâd been hoping that youâll be able to convince him. Thatâs why you let yourself entertain a conversation with a very attractive man that you know your boyfriend would be too intimidated by to even consider.
âSo who are you here with then?â
You look over your shoulder, quickly finding your boyfriend chatting up a pretty girl in a revealing dress. You point him out just long enough for Dick to see who you mean but not long enough for you to really have to absorb the scene taking place.
Dick peers over your shoulder with a furrowed brow and a frown. ââS that your friend?â he asks.
âBoyfriend,â you correct with a nod, but your eyes are on the floor.
Dick copies your nod, processing. âYou been dating him long?â
You lull your head to the side, looking back up at him. âA little over a month.â
You can see his eyes brighten hearing that.
âMust not be very serious then.â
You work to suppress a smile. âWhat makes you say that?â
âHe left you over here all alone,â he says, looking around.Â
Your eyes scan him over quickly, âIâm not alone.â
You glance over at your boyfriend again, and even from where youâre standing, you can tell that heâs not going to get anywhere. His body language is all wrong on multiple levels. âAnd heâs justâŠdoing something, anyways.â
âYes he is,â Dick says, following your gaze with a nearly concerned stare. âWhatâŠwould you call that? What heâs doing.â
âUmâŠheâs making a friendâŠâ
Dick seems to understand the implication of your words without any help. âWithout you?â He looks at you again, smiling knowingly. âOr are you doing the same thing?â
âIâŠdonât know what Iâm doing,â you confess. âIâve never done this before.â
âI have,â he assures.Â
You smile, âI assumed.â
He tilts his head, âIs that an insult or a compliment?â
âNot sure yet.â
He smiles at that, boyish and genuine.
He leans up against the bar, relaxing even more.
âDoes he take care of you?â he asks casually.
âYeah,â you reply, trying to size up where heâs going with this.
The nod of his head mirrors yours. âYeah? He nice to you?â
âYeahâŠâ
âMhm. Howâs he nice to you?â
You can feel the blood in your cheeks now. âHe kisses meâŠâ
âYeah? Good. What else?â
Your eyes flicker across his face, trying to will yourself to hold your gaze.
âHe fucks meâŠâ
He smiles hearing you murmur the words, âDoes he fuck you good?â
Youâre not nearly subtle enough, the way your gaze instantly averts and your face gets hot. To make matters worse, he seems to be able to read you like a goddamn book.Â
He smiles wider, tilting his head at you. âNo? What, not attentive? Bad at head?â
He follows you with a smile as you tilt your head down, trying to avoid eye contact. He lowers his voice, âNot big enough?â
He grants you enough mercy to not have to actually verbalize it, but you get the feeling he knows the answer anyways. All of the above.
He just hums, soaking in your expression. âWas it your idea? To go out and find another guy to bring home?â
You look down at the floor, tongue between your teeth.
âYeahâŠYou need to get fucked good, donât you?â
You do. But he has no business being able to tell that about you barely five minutes into this conversation. You take a deep breath, practically steeling yourself for the torture of hearing such blatant, unabashed words.
âYou know, I have had threesomes before, and theyâre fun butâŠâ He looks at the floor with a soft smile, shaking his head. âFull disclosure, Iâm only doing this so I can sleep with you.â
You feel blood rush to your cheeks that makes you automatically look down.
He chases after your gaze, âBut you want to know something? I donât think you want to have a threesome. I think you just need one person to show you a good time.âÂ
You understand the implication of his words. Heâs right, but your morality holds you back from saying so.Â
âHeâs my boyfriend..â
He nods understandingly, âIf you want to do it, I will. But I think I could make you feel even better on my own.â
You look up at him, eyeing his sincerity and measuring the weight of his promise.
âCome on,â he urges gently.
He leans in slightly, causing you to follow suit until youâre nose and nose with each other. Your eyes are practically closed and your inhibition is nearly gone.Â
His lips ghost over yours.Â
âBreak up with him,â he says. âBreak up with him so I can take you home.â
âNot exactly an even trade,â you say quietly.Â
He tilts his head.
âIâm losing a boyfriend.â
Barely.
âIâll make it up to you,â he promises.
And thatâs more than enough to convince the already convinced.
You pull back from him with a sigh and sit up straight. You plop down from your place on the edge of the barstool, glancing over your shoulder as you turn away.Â
âIâll be right back,â you tell him.
As you approach your boyfriend, the girl heâs with sees you before he does, readjusting her position to let you into the conversation. He, upon seeing you, does no such thing.
Instead, he double takes like heâd forgotten you were even in the bar.
He splutters before introducing you. â...This is my girlfriendâŠâ
This tidbit of information heâd forgotten to mention before youâd come over. Youâd guess as much when the girl rolls her eyes and walks away. In return, he looks irked by your intrusion and therefore loss of a goal that he never had any chance of scoring.
You donât give him the time to ask you what the fuck your problem is before giving him a dry smile. âI think we should break up.â
His face drops suddenly, before altering into something much more akin to anger.Â
âAre you fucking serious?â
âYeah.â
He scowls. âThis was your fucking idea. Donât tell me youâre going and getting all jealous now.â
You nod blankly, not interested in prolonging this. âOkay. Have a good night.â
The last thing you see before turning away is the dumbfounded look on his face. And now that you know you have something better waiting for you, it stings just that much nicer.Â
Dick grins at you as you reapproach, clearly having watched that whole thing go down. He follows close with a hand on your backside as a means to help guide you out the door.
He leads you to his car, opening the passenger side door for youâsomething your ex-boyfriend never bothered doingâand helping you in.
When heâs sitting in the driverâs seat he takes your jaw and pulls you into a kiss. Itâs sweet and gentle, but the intensity still has you pulling back and trying to catch your breath.
You catch his endeared smile, before he starts up the car and begins to back out of the parking lot.
You try to calm your body down as you ask, âAre we going to a hotel?â
He shakes his head, âNah, I live close by.â
He turns to look at you, âIs that alright?â
You donât need to weigh this out in your head to know the answer. After ten minutes you already trust Dick more than you trusted your ex after six weeks.
âYeah.â
As promised, the drive back to his apartment doesnât take long, it only ends up being a couple of blocks away. His right hand stays glued to your thigh throughout the entire drive, squeezing it once before he turns into the parking garage.
Once youâre parked, Dick unbuckles his seatbelt before looking over at you, who hasnât moved a muscle yet.
He laughs as he takes in your unconfident posture, âOh baby. Itâs alright. Donât need to be so nervous.â
He pulls you in for one more kiss before getting out of the car. He quickly opens your door for you and helps you out. He holds your hand all the way up to his apartment, stopping every once in a while to kiss you. You can tell heâs being more gentle with you than he maybe usually would, but youâre grateful for it.
As you round the final set of stairs, he nudges you in front of him. âCome âere. Itâs just up here.â
He unlocks the door and leads you into a lofty apartment, well-decorated and furnished. Significantly nicer than the studio with a mattress on the floor that your ex called home. Youâre not given much time to look around before heâs got you pushed back and pressed against the now closed door.
He takes your face in both hands as he kisses you, getting completely in your space in the most welcome way possible. He leans down over you, pushing you further against the door. The kiss deepens and he slots his thigh in between your legs. He lets you grind a little against him, encouraging you via nips against your lips. But ultimately, he seems to decide that this isnât enough.
He picks you up by your thighs, never breaking the kiss, and begins walking you towards his bedroom.
He sets you down in the middle of the room, kneeling down as he pulls your panties down. His lips ghost over your thighs in their wake, slipping them down and onto the floor.
You can feel the blood rush to your cheeks as he takes in the sight of your pussy.
âOh, pretty baby,â he murmurs.
He backs you up to the bed, pulling your dress down as he goes. By the time you get to the bed, youâre completely bare and heâs sitting you on his still-clothed lap.
He spreads your legs over his and gently brushes his fingers across your clit with a feather-light touch.
âDick,â you whine, not even sure what your goal is. You donât know if you have it in you to ask him directly for what you want.
âWhat? You want me to rub your clit for you? Want me to make you come?â
You mewl, âPleaseââ
ââPleaseâ?â He coos. âOf course, pretty girl.â
He reaches down and rubs languid circles against your clit, his touch so light and feathery that it does nothing but leave you wanting more in a way youâre wholly unfamiliar with.Â
âYou donât need to beg me,â he continues. âNot tonight anyway.â
He kisses you again with more and more passion as he works your body like he owns it. The way he lets you grind up against his hand and moan into his mouth only encourages you more.
He doesnât need to keep this up for very long before he has you coming under him, sooner and harder than you ever have before.
And it must show on your face because he tuts as he brushes your hair away from your eyes.
âAw, honey. Nobodyâs been touching you right, have they?â
Your eyes are borderline watering as you shake your head, No.
He lifts you up, off his lap, and sets you back down against the pillows. He pulls his shirt off before tugging his pants down, and repositions himself back over you. He moves down to start kissing at your chest, paying each side some much needed attention before continuing down lower.
He trails his kisses down your stomach and against your inner thighs, just high enough to make you feel a burst of heat every time.
He looks up at you, âSuch a pretty girl. Pretty girls should be taken care of.â
Somehow you only just realize where this is going, and you canât fend off the look of anxiety that flashes across your face.
He clocks your hesitation immediately.Â
He frowns, âWhatâs wrong, beautiful?â
âIâIâve never hadâŠâ you trail off but he understands the sentiment just the same.Â
He just tilts his head.
âReally? Thatâs a shame. Weâll have to fix that, wonât we?â
His sentiment surprises you, but to be completely fair: everything about him has surprised you. This has been a complete 180 from what youâve been used to, even beyond your most recent ex-boyfriend. You honestly didnât even know guys like this existed outside of the movies.
Dick kisses your thigh again before looking back up at you, eyes asking for permission.
Not a single thought runs through your head as you nod, only filled with anticipation and lust.
He places a gentle kiss on your clit, before following up with an experimental lick on the same spot. He looks up at you, checking in, and when heâs seemingly satisfied, he goes all in.
He makes out with your pussy like heâs been doing it for years, like he knows your body better than you do. Itâs almost embarrassing how fast you fall apart like this, or at least it would be, if you had any energy to spend on thinking. No, right now, all youâre doing is feeling. For once in your life, somebody has been able to do the impossible and get you out of your head.
Your hand instinctually goes to grab at his hair and he fucking moans into your pussy. The surprise of it has you gasping this shocked choke that nearly makes you sit straight up.
You curse, forcing yourself to relax completely against the mattressâa task that is nearly impossible. Still you manage success, if only for the sake of keeping him doing what heâs doing.
He alternates between sucking on your clit and licking you up and down, and the combination has you seeing stars. He continues to lap at you as youâre coming down from your high, keeps going until youâre squirming away from sensitivity.
He relents, kissing his way back up your body and finding your lips again. As youâre making out, he lines himself up at your entrance, taking special care to distract you from the stretch with intentionally placed kisses.
He lets you adjust to the feeling of him being inside of you for a moment, scanning over your face for any signs of pain or discomfort. Finding none, he slowly starts rocking his hips into you. Heâs easing you into it, and youâre grateful for it because everything up to this point has been so surreal and intense.
As he starts to move with more intention, you start to realize that youâre in a serious fucking situation. Thereâs no way in hell youâre going to be able to go back to the way you were living, having experienced getting fucked like youâre about to.
As he really gets going, you find quickly that his strokes are good. Heâs fucking you so deep and hitting a spot inside you that you didnât know existed. You couldnât help it to moan out when he first hits it, and from that point on heâs a fucking dead eye. He rubs up against your spot after every stroke and doesnât let up.
âGood girl. Good fucking girl. Taking me so well,â he praises, looking down in between your bodies.
You moan out and one hand grabs at the headboard, the other going for the nape of his neck.
He keeps at this slow and sensual pace, correctly finding it to be exactly what you needed. When youâre in a more coherent state of mind, youâll have to wonder how he could read you like a goddamn picture book.
âDickââyou moan, voice nearly breaking.
âNo, I know. You need somebody to take care of you good, huh?â
His words in your ear have you squeezing your eyes shut, genuinely whimpering.
He pushes in and out of you over and over again with intensity that rivals any experience ever youâve had before. Nothing, nothing has gotten you feeling this good before. Not your fingers, not toys, and certainly not your exes. You have half a mind to start wondering if this is your little slice of heaven granted to you by karma. Though no, you donât think anything amounts to this.
He goes and goes until youâre spasming around him, and even then, he fucks you straight through your orgasm.
âSuch a pretty girl,â he tells you as you come, sweeping hair out of your face so he can get an undisturbed view.
He only begins to slow his movements when the shaking in your legs begins to calm and your body relaxes.
He pulls out of you and kisses your shoulder, murmuring a, âGood girl.â
You sit up against your elbows with a furrowed brow, âBut you didnâtââ
He huffs out a laugh. âYou got somewhere to be? Iâm not done with you yet, pretty girl.â
And with that he flips you over onto your stomach and realigns himself with you.
Turns out, asking your boyfriend for a threesome was the best decision of your life.
đ«” if you donât reblog fics we are not friends you are not cool and you CANNOT come to my sleepover this weekend đ«”
if anyone asked, thatâs what heâd say. flat. absolute.
because he doesnât.
doesnât matter that he lets you get away with things that would have anyone else eating pavement. doesnât matter that when you touch or poke or kiss or bite him, he does nothing to stop youâand when you do stop, thereâs something almost like⊠disappointment.
(he has a weak spot for you. a vulnerable spot. an achilles heel lodged just behind his sternum, nestled between his lungsâright where a bullet would do the most damage. but never a soft spot.)
jason todd who progressively lies more and more as to explain how he came back to life
Tim: How the fuck did you win Uno 19 times in a row
Dick: Yeah you used to suck at this
Jason: Yeah actually that entire excuse that Superboy Prime punched the universe was a lie. I actually just called Death a bitch and challenged it to a game of Uno that lasted six months and won
Tim:
Dick:
Jason: :)
---
Damien: Mother should have never allowed you to heal in the Lazarus Pits.
Jason: Actually I healed because when I was dead I was a ghost and like. Haunting Gotham as one does and then realised my dumbass body somehow left the grave so I had to find it and imagine how pissed I was when I found it in the Chernobyl pool
Damien:
Jason: Ghosts can't really hitch rides okay, I had to fucking walk
---
JL: He came back... Wrong
Jason: Actually B lied that I died. I left to a boarding school and found my true passion, unicycling, and decided to unicycle over Eurasia and B was so embarrassed that he just started telling people I died
---
Roy: So... How was death?
Jason: I fist fought St. Peter and fucking won he had to send me back
---
Bruce, present for all of these: How did you actually come back to life, do you know? Have any theories?
Jason: The worms refused to eat me because I was so skinny and Mother Nature herself called me a disgrace and kicked me out
âwhen Dick Grayson becomes a detective in BlĂŒdhaven, it takes time to adjust to not being able to break the laws to get evidence or confessionsâ versus the far superior âwhen Dick Grayson becomes a detective in BlĂŒdhaven, it takes time to adjust to the fact that all of his coworkers are horribly incompetent when it comes to obtaining and preserving evidence and it turns out all of Bruceâs anal retentiveness about crime scenes, chain of custody for evidence, and contamination was actually for a very good reason and puts Batman 10-20 years ahead of any modern police departmentâ
You knew Damian would take his time getting adjusting to your presence. Of course he would. Heâs even slower to warm up than Jason, you knew it before youâd even met him. So youâd had no idea you were even within a five year shot of him even liking you, let alone trusting you.
In spite of it nearing one in the morning, you laid atop your bed covers, watching your shows with passing interest. Youâre waiting up for Jason like you usually do, you have a hard time sleeping not knowing if heâs okay or not. He hates it when you do, he says just because he has to be up all night doesnât mean you do. Unfortunately for him, youâre nothing if not stubborn.
A clatter from the living room has you perking upâJasonâs back. Itâs a little early for him to be home already though, and heâs not usually so loud upon re entry unless heâs hurt.
You stand quickly, tossing the book aside, and mentally prepare yourself to tend to injuries.
You open the door to the dark room, the only light available coming from the dim lamp in the kitchen and the moonlight through the open window.
It takes your eyes a moment to adjust, scanning the room only to find a figure much, much smaller than expected.
âDamian?â
He looks at you through the darkness, silent. You approach him slowly.
âHey. Are you hurt?â You ask, getting a bit concerned. Of all Jasonâs brothers, Damian is the least likely to drop in, especially unharmed.
âNo.â Damianâs always standoff-ish, but heâs exhibiting a particularly strange energy right now. You wonder if he needs something Jason could help with.
âJasonâs not here,â you tell him, watching him closely for any sign of whatâs going on.
âI know.â His words are short, measured.
If he knows, that means he was with him tonight. Then why would he come here?
âIs everything okay?â
He says nothing. His gaze is lasered onto a panel of wood among the floorboards, jaw clenched.
You tilt your head. âDo you want to stay here tonight?â
He hesitates to answer but it seems like he does want to stay. You donât know Damian anywhere near as well as Jason does, but you canât imagine heâs ever seen or shown much vulnerability before.
He seems to decide on biting the bullet and nodding, yes. You make your way around the couch and sit down, looking to him.
Slowly, he does the same, in absolute silence. He sits stiff. His shoulders are hunched up and his body is tightly pressed into the smallest space possible. The way his posture curls in on him makes him look even tinier.
Youâve never seen him anywhere close to upset before, not like this. Most of the time you see him heâs an angry upset, but thisâŠitâs a sad upset. Almost scared.
You fold your legs onto the couch, pulling a blanket off from the ledge behind you. You drape it over Damians shoulders, enveloping him in warmth to contrast the icy bite of the night. He remains still.
You slowly move your hand up to his hair, treading carefully. Heâs watching you out of the corner of his eye, though he makes no moves to stop you. You take that as the closest to a blessing youâre going to get from him, so you continue on.
You brush his hair back lightly, fingers threading through his hair with a loving gentleness.
âDamian,â You whisper.
He doesnât look at you. Even in the dark, you can see his breathing labored and his eyes starting to well over.
You turn to face him and shift a little closer, taking his hand in yours. His chin lowers and his stare hardens, trying desperately not to cry.
You bring your free hand to the far side of his head, gently nudging him your way. He folds immediately, turning to you and throwing himself into your chest, tears flowing violently.
He struggles to breathe right, choking on his sobs as he hugs you tight. You hold his head against you, stroking his hair as he weeps.
You hold him like that for almost half an hour, allowing him as much time to cry as he needs.
He ends up curled up on your lap at an awkward angle, head resting on your thigh. The shaking of his body slows over time, his eyes fluttering shut from the ache of the tears. Not long after, his breathing levels out and his body completely relaxes into sleep.
You continue petting his head, mind wandering around to what couldâve happened. Jason had told you once that the only thing Damian seems to hold in high regard is Bruce, and his mood can easily sway Damianâs.
Itâs almost three am when Jason slides in through the window, landing gracefully into a kneel. He tugs off his helmet before looking up and noticing you on the couch.
A split second of a smile before he glances down and sees Damian asleep on your lap, his arms still wrapped around your waist. His mouth drops and his brows furrows as he stands, examining his brother.
âWhat the hell?â He says quietly, looking back up to you.
You shake your head and shrug your shoulders, âI donât know. Did something happen on patrol?â
Jasonâs eyes drift down to Damian again. âI mean Bruce kind of yelled at him, so.â
âThatâll do it.â
He nods, coming to sit on the opposite side of the couch, careful not to wake him. He observes his brother's vice grip around your middle and your much more gentle hold around his.
where jason can't stop coming back to you every night.
jason todd x journalist!reader
warnings: small mention of blood and wounds. just a little bit of fluff.
You were too busy writing your next article about the last incident in Gotham, too focused on the sound of your fingers against the keyboard that you didnât even notice Jasonâs body slipping behind you, resting his body on your couch.
It had been a long, long night. He was tired and probably didnât have a good night's sleep for weeks, so as soon as his head touched the soft material of your couch, he dozed off.
His own apartment had been long forgotten since the first time he entered yours. Yours was full of life, small little cosy lights instead of the cold ones he had, lots of books and music records you loved to play when you were cooking. Everything was so nice and warm, like you. Jason always told himself he kept coming back to your place because he just loved the good decoration it had, but mostly, he loved the person who was living there.
He really loved the pretty thing that was sitting in front of him, quickly writing on her laptop.
You didnât notice his presence until you stood up from your desk and saw his body passed out on your couch. Your heart jumped in your chest as your soul left your body for a few seconds, you were not yet used to his late night appearances in your house. You walked very slowly towards his face, gently removing his mask as your fingers slowly caressed his face. He had a few deep cuts but the worst one was in his brown; an ugly, deep cut that started to bleed a little.
You went for your aid kit. It wouldnât be the first time you stitched him up and it certainly wouldnât be the last. Your fingers lingered against his skin carefully, starting to clean his wounds.
Jason was a light sleeper, so he noticed your presence as soon as you touched his skin, but he didnât open his eyes. He felt your fingers taking care of his face so carefully as if he would break. His heart started to pound like a horse running, so hard that he was afraid that you would feel it too.
Your hand was a rose petal cleaning the skin of a killer, and the worst part was that he didnât even flinch. He just closed his eyes and relaxed in the warmth of your body close to his. Jason never thought he was worthy of so much love, especially you, a broken body like his would never be able to get better.
But you made him believe otherwise. From the first time you took him in your arms and cleaned his wounds he knew deep down that maybe there was hope for him to be better.
"I know you are awake, Jason," you murmured with a chuckle, patching up his wounds. "You're the worst light sleeper I've ever met," Jason opened his eyes to find your pretty face looking down on his as your body knelt beside your couch, "You don't have to patch me up, you know," he replied, biting his cheek to stop the smile that threatened to appear on his face.
He never wanted you to stop patching him up, though. Every night, he would crawl back to you and seek your warmth.
"I know, but I want to," you said, fixing the hair that covered his face. Your eyes pinned in his, no, you didnât look at the scars in his body, you never looked at him with fear or anger but it was always love and affection.
He wanted to kiss you so badly, to hold you close and never let go, to feel your soft embrace melt into his.
But he couldn't. He didnât want you to get involved in his world or in his life, not because he didnât love you, it was because he loved you so much that he wanted to keep you away from his problemsâ from him.
âJust sleep a bit, Jason, your eyebags make you look like a raccoonâ you passed him a blanket, his favorite âcould say the same âbout you, princessâ Jason responded as you rolled your eyes.
"Good night, Red Hood," you said as your body disappeared in the door to your bedroom.
Maybe he should be keeping away from you, but he didnât want toâ not anymore.
âthere's something about this type of jason, he loves you buy is too afraid to fuck everything up. yet he can't stop craving your love!
âthis is something i took out of the fic im writing about jason x journalist!reader and I love these two already
âi'd love to do requests! feel free to ask them <3
You didn't really check the time, but it must've been past midnight when you entered Jason's place for the first time this week, quietly closing the door behind you and tossing your keys back into your bag, which you placed on the hanger by the entrance.
Your steps were lazy and spaced out as you walked around the apartment, looking for him in the dark â turning the lights on would be too much of a splurge, so you simply settled for an almost blind search.
Approaching the bathroom, you heard the faint sound of water splashing, the noise recognizable as you'd heard that a thousand times, almost in the same situation.
"You always choose such ungodly hours for bathing." You said, walking into the small room in silent steps.
Jason was laying peacefully in the bathtub, his head resting against the wall beside him as he had his eyes closed, probably enjoying the comfort of the scented candles lit around the tub. You could smell the vanilla from the wax mixed with the scent of the peach bathbomb you gave him some time ago.
"I think this is the best hour for it." He murmured, not bothering to raise his voice. You liked seeing him relaxed like that.
You sat down at the edge of the tub, taking in his soft appearance. He looked very peaceful, his eyes shut and face relaxed. It was one of the few times you'd seen him with his jaw unclenched.
As you sat, his head immediately leaned closer to your thigh, resting against it like a pillow. Your heart warmed at the sight and at the feeling.
You two had just started dating. Things were still so new to both of you, but they were going well. You liked each other, more than either of you cared to admit, still too scared to pour your hearts out. But moments like these proved that the feeling was deeper than you thought.
Running a gentle hand through his damp hair, you let out a short sigh. "You look so peaceful." you murmured quietly, your voice caressing his ears.
"I am." he replied, leaning into your touch. "Even more now."
You smiled at that. He liked to say sweet things when you least expected him to. Jason wasn't one for sweet talk, but he made an effort for you. To see that pretty smile on your lips, to make you feel loved, to make you feel his love.
"How did tonight go?" You murmured quietly, your fingers still caressing his scalp, almost making him purr like a cat. He loved head scratches.
"Mhm..." he hummed, deciding if he should sugarcoat it or tell you the truth. He chose the truth. "It was... awkward. Like, very, but it wasn't the worst night ever. I'm still getting used to these things."
"You're still getting used to galas?" You smiled, your tone incredulous. "I thought you went to these things all the time."
"I did a few times when I was younger." He said. "But it's harder to adapt now. I mean, inside. Outside, I think I look... not that out of place, but inside, it's messy." He explained to you, his fingers coming up to gently caress your side, making your shirt wet. But neither of you cared.
"I get it." You nodded, offering him a more understanding smile now. "I'm sure you did well, though. You always do."
"Maybe... maybe go with me next time." He murmured almost sheepishly, his eyes opening for the first time. They drank you, your appearance, your messy hair, your sparkly eyes, your pretty, pretty nose. Every part of your face, your clothes, your arms, everything. "I think you'd fit in."
"Me?" you mumbled, your voice cracking a bit, making you wince. Suddenly, you felt a little shy from his gaze and from his proposal. The thought of him wanting you of all people to be his plus one at those fancy events made you feel some kind of warm anxiety, close to a good, excited feeling. "I don't think I would, honestly."
"I can already see it... a beautiful outfit on you, your hair pretty and styled, silver jewelry, the most glorious shoes..." he mumbled. He sounded almost like he was daydreaming. "And, of course, your stunning self to go with all of it."
You laughed at that, a genuine laugh, one of those he seemed to pull out of you anytime he did or said something remotely funny. You were down bad for that man. Shaking your head, you gave his shoulder a gentle pat.
"That sounds like an alternative reality." You said.
"I disagree." he said, looking over at you again. "In fact... wait a minute, I'll get all of that arranged right now for next month."
You stared at him in confusion, your eyebrows knitting together as he started getting up from the tube, and then your eyes widened.
"Jason-"
He got out of the bathtub, water splashing all over the edges and dripping down to the floor, as well as on you, your shirt and pants getting even damper.
You laughed again at his desperation, and at the fact that he didn't even bother to cover himself with a towel. He walked out of the bathroom in his full naked glory, droplets of water sliding down his chest as he padded over to the room, mumbling something about having to get on the phone right now.
You couldn't have chosen better.
âŠ
a.n: i feel like this is so stupid... also, i didn't proof read, I'm sorry!
Jason knows heâs not made out of porcelain, he was made out of anything but such fragility, something that he had always remained you of.
Yet he couldnât help but feel as though he might be with how you take his hand in yours, gently caressing his calloused palms, his fingers and the scars that littered his knuckles from all the fights heâs gotten into.
He couldnât help but think heâs somewhat made of porcelain when you hold his face as though inspecting a work of art, holding him in such a way he wasnât certain either he could feel your touch or his mind was fucking with him. You trace his cheeks with feather light and curiosity touches as you trailed your fingers across them, across his bottom lip and down towards his jaw before racking back up to trail a finger down the slope of his nose and the faded scars close to his eyebrows.
You touched him as though he was porcelain, despite being told multiple times he wasnât, he was far from porcelain but you touched and held him as though heâd break under pressure.
You touched his as though you were holding something whole and not something so damaged and so fucking broken beyond repair that many considered him a lost cause, an angry soul that use to beam so bright. You smiled and loved him and all Jason could think was this;
âwhy me? Why do I get someone as good as them? Would they still love me if they knew all the things Iâve done? The people Iâve killed and the blood that stains my hands? Would theyâd still love me all the same and hold me like this even if I become the monster many think I already am?â
You knew he wasnât porcelain and you yet your touch, the affection within your eyes as you look upon him, your sweet kisses that you scatter across his scars after asking if he would be okay with it, everything you did made him feel as though he was made of porcelain because he actually was; Jason Todd was made of porcelain and his cracks and broken parts were put together and concealed in pure gold, it didnât hide the fact that he been through so much but he looked beautiful and dare you say better then heâs ever looked before.
Jason Todd once believed he wasnât made of porcelain, but with you he found that he was in fact made of porcelain, the most fragile variation possible but you loved and held him close to your chest as you poured your love into his cracks and broken parts; bringing him back together with the power of your voice as you spoke sweet and honeyed words to him about his beauty. You could see just how beautiful the man before you was, it was impossible for you not to see him as a beautiful man with a heart as pure as gold, and youâll gladly show him this over and over again if you must.
Jason Todd was made of porcelain and he was content with that, just as long as it was your arms he went home to, your voice he fell asleep to and your heart that he listened to as he is reminded that you are alive and he is very much loved by you. Jason Todd knew was made of our porcelain the moment you whispered âI love you and I will fall in love with you again.â Against his lips.
