۶ৎ

“all this anger was once love.”

[eunoianss]

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹ jenny . 20s. queer. she/her. jason todd is my muse. post-grad. this blog contains mature content. dc comics & jjk.

this sideblog is dedicated to my writing/fic recommendations. i unfortunately can’t follow back from here, but i can from my main.

main blog: @asshvt

currently writing: we can’t be friends pt. 2

feel free to talk or to send me a message!

requests: on pause

⋆˚࿔ masterlist request guidelines

[luviery]

FIC RECOMMENDATIONS

In honor of this account reaching 200 followers earlier this month, here are some fics I really loved reading (they are reblogged in my library acc (@luvieryylib) Please show support to the authors by liking, commenting and reblogging their fic!!

BRUCE WAYNE

Bruce wayne and space- @bonesofapoet in the dark of the knight - @twentytomidnight Where the hell is my husband - @stcrgazerlily for show - @bloomcissa

JASON TODD

shy!experienced Jason Todd x freak!virgin reader - @starr-jazz (extremely suggestive) It'll pass - @champagnesbiggestproblem Jason Todd has a soft spot - @eunoianss grunge! Jason Todd - @patientofarkhamasylum little secret - @teklarn Caloused hands gently - @batwngs birds of a feather - @ghxstrobins A walk in the park - @devisedplan Nightshade - @arfemiz Jason Todd and midnight cravings - @t1mbits book thief - @sozzoe Can't help falling in love - @lechelovestoyap

DICK GRAYSON

Dick Grayson (hurt/comfort) - @blushstories

ROY HARPER

twenty-something - @milkybbun birthday surprise - @moviecritc Matching Tattoos - @cinnamon-girl-writes Natural 20 - @/pixelbfs Escape room - @/milkybbun Outlaw to loverboy (with the help of ladyluck) - @lechelovestoyap

CLARK KENT

Brown Eyed Girl - @kryptidfiles What he listens for - @/patientofarkhamasylum

HAL JORDAN

SPIKES BURSTING THROUGH THE GRID - @batwngs How deep is your love - @that-dumb-bunny Hal Jordan and your cat - @nayawnz

BARBARA GORDON

Trouble - @pixelbfs

DIANA PRINCE

Little theif - @cherryvvave

WALLY WEST

9.81m/(s^2) - @filmcamerasanddice

[eunoianss]

heyyy….how y’all doing . 🫣

life update: i got severe food poisoning and i think it genuinely fried/rewired my brain so ive been struggling to write. im also studying for the LSAT which i think is what is killing my creative drive.

BUT i don’t come empty handed. requests are still being worked on but here’s a sneak peak (still a rough draft) for one of my WIPS in case anyone is interested

[patientofarkhamasylum]

sarah's monthly faves: march 2026 ⭑.ᐟ

── .✦ from my reading nook: monthly fic recs // something fun i'm gonna try to do every month to give love to all the scrumptious fics and amazingly talented writers on here, and to motivate myself to actually get through my tbr lol. enjoy <3

DC COMICS ⟢ ˎˊ˗

bruce wayne

soft love by @luviery

dick grayson

library crush by @eunoianss “i’ve had bigger thrills leaning up against my dryer.” by @clarknsun hard to impress by @t1mbits drive me crazy by @batwngs kisses and memories by @/luviery dick x figure skater!reader by @kooriandr

jason todd

jason x reader who also died and came back by @starr-jazz intimacy issues by @/eunoianss kiss or miss by @bloomcissa unusual scene by @edawgz ride it by @honeyroots split knuckles you kiss by @moonologyy 1-800-smitten by @smllvlle

tim drake

a love born under an ill-fated star by @champagnesbiggestproblem

damian wayne

"internet girl." by @geniusgirlalert runnin' back to you. by @fawnindawn

barbara gordon

on call by @/batwngs first kiss by @moviecritc

cassandra cain

can you help? by @/batwngs

stephanie brown

stephanie reapplies your lipstick (& kisses it off) by @froggibus

clark kent

everlasting light by @gemmawritess

roy harper

escape room au by @milkybbun outlaw to loverboy (with the help of lady luck) by @lechelovestoyap mango flavored by @cherryvvave happy trail, happy man by @that-dumb-bunny

wally west

chem wiz by @smllvlle

selina kyle

two beds by @sozzoe

talia al ghul

ruining the mood by @/bloomcissa

INVINCIBLE ⟢ ˎˊ˗

mark grayson

complicated by @pluvoia sending bff!mark a lewd photo by @sunaskura

[eunoianss]

thank you everyone who requested !!! <3 i wanted to update y’all and let you know that i have received all requests and am working on them !!! :) i’ve been super busy as of these last couple of days but i wanted to update !!

[eunoianss]

⋆˙⟡ hi everyone! i’m officially taking requests for x reader fics ! :) i do best with jason todd x reader and dick grayson x reader, but i am also writing for many other characters.

i am going through a bit of a writer’s block so i would love some ideas to get me rolling.

see my request guidelines.

my current masterlist so you get an idea of what my writing style is <3!

[eunoianss]

REQUEST GUIDELINES !

characters i write for

detective comics: bruce wayne clark kent dick grayson donna troy jason todd koriand'r tim drake

this list is mostly made up of characters whose comics i've interacted with, thus, i feel i have a better understanding of.

i'm still unsure if i'll write for damian wayne. maybe something very fluffy or light angst, but i draw the line there.

jujustu kaisen: satoru gojo toji fushiguro kento nanami

what i will write:

- x reader (gender-neutral or fem!reader, please specify which one.) - smut/fluff/angst. just about any genre. - drabbles/one-shots. this will vary depending on how much inspiration i can withdraw from the request. - headcanons

what i will NOT write:

- any nsfw/smut involving minors. no exceptions. - self-harm. i don't feel comfortable writing it. - incest/pseudo-incest (step-siblings or step-parents) - kinks: anything scat-adjacent. no vomit, no pee. ageplay. vore. dubcon. i am very hesitant about impact play, depending on the character and who is receiving. - religion. everyone is entitled to their own beliefs, i like to refrain from heavily touching on it in my works.

specify which character, if you would like a gender neutral or fem reader, and the genre(s) you would like the fic to be in your request :)

please, please, please, be patient. i have a job and a very busy lifestyle. i do this simply for enjoyment. i will always try to give a reasonable time frame for every request <3.

i also have the right to deny a request if i feel like i cannot complete it.

[luviery]

Biker!Jason Todd x fem! reader. C/W: Mention of makeup (lip gloss), implied long distance relationship A/N: Based on a sylus (lads) fanart i saw on Pinterest. This is word vomit (writer's block is creeping in by the minute) ty @bloomcissa for proofreading this 💌

“Bye, jay”

Jason Todd is leant over the red gas tank of his bike, forearms draped over each other as he raises one to wave, taut in black leather gloves . He waits till you enter the restaurant and are within safe quarters. But you turn swiftly just before the glass doors, walking back to him while ruffling something in your handbag.

“Sorry, forgot something”

Before Jason can question, you grasp his helmet-clad head, as emerald eyes peer at you through the tuft of black and white strands in amusement. And you brain stops working for just a minute . You could stare at his eyes for hours and win some kind of guiness world record but today was not the time, not when you had friends waiting at the restaurant.

“Love your eyes baby but “ you grasp the mirror visor “gotta close this now". The visor slides to the bottom of the helmet with a clack resounding at the end. You open the tube of shimmering gloss , coating your lips using the visor as your impromptu mirror.

Jason is glad that he bought the expensive mirror visor instead of the regular ones. Because now he could see what your vanity mirror had the fortune to experience everyday. And oh, was he jealous. Heat courses through his body, evident through the red tipped ears and flushed cheeks. You can’t see him through the visor and Jason is glad. Because right now, all he saw was an angel in front of him and he was the devoted worshipper . He could see your beautiful orbs lowered, as you coat your lips.

He could see the curve of your eyes, the exact way your skin folded against each other when your eyebrows scrunched in concentration, the way your eyes glimmered against the sunlight. Sure, he has seen you like this a couple of times over the years but long distance relationships had the power of making you ache for the simple things. He wanted to see your bare face as you woke up, your fresh face after minimal skincare, your glammed up face after you applied makeup . He wanted to see it all.

"Done!" you pull the visor up halfway before recognition draws across your face and shut the visor again. Jason groans a little, annoyed that the action had caused him to pull out of his intense session of admiration ."One more thing left." You clutch at his helmet, cupping both sides before planting a kiss at the corner of the visor - the lip gloss leaving behind a colorful mark.

" Gotta let people know you are in a loving relationship " you grumble, staring at the kiss mark. A few days ago, Jason had commented something during facetime about women flirting with him while waiting for the green light at the traffic stop . You knew he had eyes only for you but you couldn't help but feel the heavy green eyed monster make home in your heart.

Jason, on the other hand, is delighted. He would have your kiss marks on him everyday and everywhere. Jason pulls the visor up, enough for his eyes to peirce you with confidence and warmth. You know just by the look that his mouth is curled up in a smirk, even if his cheeks are still coated with a faint layer of pink. " Is my baby jealous?"

You roll your eyes playfully, all the while warmth seeps into your cheeks at his words. "Just trying to state a fact, does not make me jealous"

"Whatever floats your boat, sweetheart"  

A/N: open for taglist if anyone wants to read my future works ^^

DC Masterlist

[eunoianss]

no way i'm always so shocked when people tag me in posts like that because i'm like oh yeah i'm a real profile that people see and it's not just me lurking 😭 thank you so much for tagging me and i love your work 🫶🫶🫶

omg of course !!!! i love getting the chance to get to know my moots more :) <333 and thank you !!!!

[danversxwasabi]

10 people you would like to know better 🌻

Thanks for the tag @bunniesofsteel 🧜‍♂️

Last song: Church by Jade (I recommend their entire album "That's Showbiz Baby").

Favorite color: blue and purple.

Currently watching: Jane The Virgin, The Office, Victorious, Peacemaker.

Currently reading: Do Tumblr fanfics count? But I'm also reading spiritual prayers before going to sleep.

Current obsession: Rice paper rolls with any filling (seaweed, salads, rice with meat, etc.), you can eat as many as you want, but I'm satisfied with two.

Last Google search: How to make flowers with crepe paper (to help my sister with a school presentation).

Currently working on: I don't know if it counts that I go to physical therapy? because I don't write, or do anything relevant.

Tagging: @evielovve @shadowskribe @lil-rigatoni @sstar-ggirl @shamrockqueen @lalalalalew @marymun @piratekingateez2001 @training4theapocalypse @mayfieldss (I don't know if you've already done it; if not, don't feel pressured to do it or to reply.) 💫

[that-dumb-bunny]

Thanks for tagging me @froggibus 🥹

Last song: When I Grow Up (Matilda the Musical Original Cast)

Favorite color: pink + red

Currently watching: The Flash (2014) and One Piece (the live action series)

Currently reading: The Flash and Green Lantern: The Brave and the Bold

Current obsession: anything involving Hal Jordan, how our brain works (Iim actually learning this in college), and The Amazing Digital Circus

Last Google search: star sapphire corps

Currently working on: my fics and my study's summaries of the brain's organic parts

no pressure tags: @sozzoe @cherryvvave @iridescentlightshow @lechelovestoyap @batwngs @bloomcissa @cinnamon-girl-writes @pixelbfs @wonderrheartt @milkybbun (love u all <3)

[pixelbfs]

thank u for tagging me bby !! @that-dumb-bunny

last song: don't stay by linkinpark

fav colour: pink + purple

currently watching: the pitt, but i haven't been catching up to the newer eps. i'm also thinking of getting into daredevil!

currently reading: dc: the new frontier

current obsession: my gen 2 purple tamagotchi. ohmygod ive been so annoying about this thing since my birthday. i love it so much... 💜 also have been binging soooo much elder scrolls lore vids. i def have to write a fantasy au soon

last google search: tiber septim (again. i love elder scrolls so much)

currently working on: finishing my tbr and NOT adding more books to it !!

(no pressure) tags: @luviery @onlyfeng @kooriandr

[luviery]

thank u for tagging me @batwngs, @pixelbfs and @neeeed-y

last song: Mystery of love by Sufjan Stevens

fav colour: black and maroon

currently watching: rewatching Modern Family

currently reading: Batgirl (2000) and Daredevil by Chip Zdarsky

current obsession: DC considering I have been in the fandom only since last December (so 4ish months)

last google search: Tune in for love (K-movie which I hopefully will watch soon)

currently working on: Finish Reading my physical TBR and work on some long fics.

(no pressure) tags: @milkybbun, @t1mbits, @patientofarkhamasylum @devisedplan @lechelovestoyap @eunoianss+ anyone else who wants to join

[eunoianss]

tagged by @luviery and @patientofarkhamasylum (on my main blog). thank u !!!

last song: rush - troye sivan

fav colour: pink & green

currently watching: jujustu kaisen, one piece live action, and rewatching succession (my fave).

currently reading: absolute ww, absolute batman, and white teeth - zadie smith.

current obsession: dc comics (i’ve bought so many comics in the past few months), and the gym 💪 !!!

last google search: how to sleep in hair rollers (u can’t btw it’s way too uncomfortable).

currently working on: second part to one of my fics and finishing the pile of comics i bought.

(no pressure) tags: @nxbodysangel @moviecritc @aangelinakii @amourflores

ps: sorry if you’ve already been tagged and lmk if u would not like to be tagged for things like this !!

[eunoianss]

jason todd has a soft spot for you pt.2 | fluff | part one

Soft Boyfriend! Jason Todd, who preps fruits and vegetables for you on a random weekday night. After a particularly long day, you came home with sore feet and heavy eyelids, telling Jason you were so tired you’d decided to put your meal planning off until tomorrow. The next day, you notice them sitting in tempered glassware when you open your fridge: each cruciferous and root peeled and cut with fine care; every fruit washed and stored. On top, a post-it note he’s left for you.

Was up late, figured I’d just do it for you — J

You smile when you see he’s signed it with his initial. As if anyone else would raid your fridge in hopes of easing your daily routine.

Soft Boyfriend! Jason Todd, who, contrary to popular belief, tries to maintain a clean space wherever he goes. He extends his tidiness to your apartment, offering to fold your laundry or easily lifting the sofa while you vacuum all the crumbs and dust hiding underneath. His heap of clothes, as bulky and heavy as he is, is softly folded in “his section” of your room, as if trying to take up as little space as possible. You rarely have to ask for help, as his hands are always quick to move furniture aside or find the nearest cleaning spray.

Soft Boyfriend! Jason Todd, who still shovels the glut of mushy, overcooked spaghetti into his mouth after you accidentally left it on the stove for too long. “Jay, you don't have to eat it if you don’t like it. let’s just order takeout.” He slurps on the noodles, small sticky stains painting the corners of his mouth a muddy red, and just cocks an eyebrow.

“Takeout f’what?” Another swallow. “m’fine wih this.” His fingers swirl around the rim, coating it with the thick, gloopy sauce. Because Jason Todd is not one to waste when it comes to food or the carefully crafted devotion of the person he loves most.

Soft Boyfriend! Jason Todd, who writes you letters.  Each page is lettered in neat cursive, every dotted letter inked with eager sincerity. It was your idea at first, a personal project meant to reduce your screen time that metamorphosed into a habitual routine. He rambles about mundane tasks. Remembers the name of a cute little kid with a wide tooth gap, or muses about Gotham’s particular smell, which he insists is "part of her charm.”  He weaves each sentence and maps out a web of everyday moments, allowing you entry to his intimate thoughts and feelings. And nothing makes him happier than having you to share them with.

Soft Boyfriend! Jason Todd, who welcomes you home and takes care of you after you’ve been out with friends. He lets you wrap your legs around him as you embrace him like a koala, looking at him with a smeary smile and glossy, intoxicated eyes. “Someone’s happy to see me,” he laughs as he guides you.

He soaks a warm washcloth to gently clear your face of any sweat, because he knows you’d complain about not washing your face before bed. He grabs your toothbrush, slotted in its usual place with his, and opens the seams of your mouth to brush each tooth. You reward him with a frothy, toothpaste-glazed grin. When he’s done, he wipes his thumb across your mouth and plants a chaste peck at the corner of your lips.

Soft Boyfriend! Jason Todd, who is indifferent to birthdays and most holidays, but will relish every opportunity to celebrate them with you. Your birthday is coded into his internal index of important information, secretly circled in red marker on the calendar that hangs on his wall. Even cheesy Hallmark holidays like Valentine's Day have an unprecedented, looming gravity for him.

Your apartment is filled with mementos and gifts he's given you. A shitty birthday card, the ones with corny jokes that play music when you open them, because he knows you find them fun. Ivies and succulents planted on your windowsill, pots with blooming perennials, or the occasional vases with roses. Poloraids time-stamped and named with every place he's taken you, ranging from local diners and restaurants to planned trips on the salt-air coast. Never materialistic but always sentimental and intentional.

Soft Boyfriend! Jason Todd, who is a terrible flirt. His attempts to coax a blush from you range from tooth-rottingly sweet compliments to cheesy, overused pick-up lines. He'll ask you, "Are you made of angel dust? You look heavenly." Or, you’ll be kissing him goodbye on your way to work, while his large frame eases through the doorway, a cheeky smile plastered on his lips as he sighs, “I hate to see you leave, but I love watching you go.” You roll your eyes as you turn back at his very self-satisfied expression.

Soft Boyfriend! Jason Todd, who never officially asks you to move in. After all, it would be presumptuous of him to assume you’re as ready as he is to handle the reins of domesticity. Instead, every visit brings a mounting assortment of items: an extra toothbrush at his place and one at yours; his well-loved shampoo and soaps in your shower; his favorite mugs now lining your cabinet. So it isn't until you wake up one morning, his head nuzzled into your neck and spooning you for the sixth time this week, that you decide to ask. “Jay, why don’t we just get our own place?”

His sea-colored eyes flutter open, lashes tickling your jaw, and you feel his smile through the nape of your neck. And without hesitation, as if he was waiting for the question, he responds, "I think that's a really good idea."

a/n: this is unofficially dedicated to the sweet anon who was interested in a part two. it sort of turned into pure domestic fluff lol. hopefully, this cures me of my terrible writer's block.

[luvieryylib]

Because Jason Todd is not one to waste when it comes to food or the carefully crafted devotion of the person he loves most.

He weaves each sentence and maps out a web of everyday moments, allowing you entry to his intimate thoughts and feelings.

2 of my fav lines. This is written so well and is soo real. I loved LOVED the last one and also the overcooked spaghetti one because he would also just not waste any food considering how he grew up. And also in a way maybe he feels guilty if he does not have the food that someone cooked for him (because according to him, no one needs to cook for him but you did and now he has to finish it)

And love the letter one as well. Since he reads so much literature, he would absolutely write so well.

[eunoianss]

i🩷u omg thank you sm for taking the time write this out :( <3 <3 <3

you’re exactly right about how i feel jason is conscious about the fact that he has someone who will take time out of their day to cook for him, and is so so grateful, because on top of that, it’s prepared by someone who he loves. i headcanon him as being a big act of services guy so i think he’ll be appreciative, even if it means eating reader’s shitty food LMAO.

[eunoianss]

AHHHH hi im the anon who said i would devour a soft bf! jason pt 2 !! that was so precious !!!!!

yayyyyy i’m glad u found it cute ! i love writing him this way <3

[angurvadal]

jason todd x reader! prompt: you were kind of friends with jason back in high school at the height of your ugly duckling phase. ten years pass, somehow both of you end up at your reunion party with one singular thought. when did you get hot? word count: 6.8k warnings: self-esteem issues, possible ED triggers, sexual actions (heavy petting, grinding) dni if you aren't comfy with that! (this is a one-shot, but i may extend it into either a two-shot or a short series if y'all want me to 'cause i could expand and flesh out the story further, in both smut and depth aspects.) read on ao3 here!

Being a teenager fucking sucked. 

Especially when you were the designated loser kid of your class. Gotham Academy’s always been that way— who could flaunt the most money from their daddy, or who looked eighteen or older the most when all of you were barely fifteen to sixteen. 

You stared at your reflection in the girl’s bathroom. 

Hormonal acne littered your face. Your hair was in a plain, gravity-defying, frizzy ponytail that did not bow down to any master. The esteemed uniform of your school that normally flattered the pretty, looked hideous on your undesirable figure. Boxy, black and thick glasses framed your face. 

You frowned, even Miss Piggy from the fucking Muppets was way hotter than the freak of nature that you were. 

You’ve tried everything— the latest trending skincare online, HIIT exercises that made you want to puke, nothing worked. Your own daddy’s money was nothing on you, it was a hopeless cause.

You shifted your skirt one last time among many more to come, trying to suck in the pudge protruding. Like that ever helps, god damn it. 

With that, you leave the bathroom the same as ever. 

You enter the classroom, trying to minimize your presence as much as possible to get back to your seat. But even so, you physically feel your classmates’ either looking at you with disgust, or purposefully avoiding you.

Hah, who would want to be friends with the fat kid anyway?

A perk if you will, was that in the first quarter of the year, your teachers let you sit wherever you wanted until mandatory seating arrangements were assigned in the succeeding quarters. And thus, for this quarter at least, you got the back corner of the classroom right next to the window. 

Your eyes land on your seat— well, supposed seat. It’s just that a guy was sitting on your table, and your school bag was nowhere to be seen. 

Fuck. 

You had next to little power in this fucking academy, and the one grace heavens gave you for the entire year was being hogged by this… boy. 

Hey, you were a fat bitch. And it was exactly that, a bitch.

“Get. The FUCK off my table.”

The boy was the recent transfer yesterday— the Wayne boy who was totally the polar opposite of his older brother Richard. It was an abrupt transfer, since it was a few weeks before the second quarter of the year hit. But, as you saw on Instagram, he was the talk of the town. The girls of your batch immediately went over this guy like crazy, but nobody had the chance to be his friend yet. 

You? You didn’t care. Another rich kid into the system didn’t make a difference to you. No one was worth the brain space when they’d end up judging you as the fat kid without getting to know you anyway. 

He didn’t hear you at first, his ears covered by… were those Sony XM3s? Huh. At least he wasn’t a Beats by Dre phony. Undeterred by his muted hearing, you stood in front of him, blocking his view of the window. 

Your view. Your window.

“Ahem.”

His eyes flit up to yours. Forest green. Dark curls framed his face. His brows furrow, as he moves one of the headphone cups behind his ear to hear you. 

Great. Another pretty boy added to the long list of people that would beat smoke your ass in a few days time for lunch money.

“What.”

“You’re on my table. Get. OFF.”

He stared at you boredly, furrow lost. 

“...They said this seat wasn’t taken. It was empty yesterday, so Mr. Potts gave it to me.”

Anger started to boil in you. Mr. Potts— that pedophilic, misogynistic ass! Of course he’d cave into pleasing Bruce Wayne’s ward. You just had to have dysmenorrhea yesterday and bail, huh.

“I called in sick. Now get off.”

“Yeah, uh, I won’t have a seat then…?”

The two of you had been talking for far longer than you had wanted— now most of the class was staring at the new pretty boy talking to the fat kid, and the girls did not like that. Not one bit. 

A dainty hand with scathing nails clawed into your shoulder, “oh! Jason, honey, don’t mind her!”

Another sickly sweet voice piped up to your other side, “yeah! It’s not like her bag is on the table, right sweetie?”

“Mhmm, better pack it up— oh! Right, you have nothing to pack.”

You stilled. 

“Well?” The claws dug deeper into your uniform, into the pudge of your shoulder. “Get lost, loser.”

Ohhhh today was not your day. 

Plastic One and Plastic Two (profound nicknames coined by yours truly) took the opportunity to push you down and shove their plastic tits and fake fucking disproportionate lashes into the new guy’s face simultaneously.

Alright, whatever. That just meant you had to find your school bag in the trash outside the classroom, again.

“Alright, fake tits McGee, you fuckin’ win.” You shoved their hands off your shoulders and briskly walked to the exit, ready to salvage your bag from hopefully not wet trash. Jesus Christ it was too early for this kind of shit. 

Your frizzy ponytail was yanked and sent you skidding back butt first into the classroom floor. 

The class didn’t erupt into a fit of loud rambunctious laughter. Rather, a fit of snorts and snickers at your literal downfall. 

Lia, the one that decided to test if your hair was attached to the root, stomped her Mary Janes beside your hand, nearly crushing it with her non-existent weight. 

“You say that one more time you fat fuck—”

BANG. 

The sound of your classroom lockers slamming into a brute force filled the room. 

The classroom fell silent. You didn’t dare move. No one did. 

A few seconds pass until a calloused hand reaches out to you. 

“You good?”

You huff out a quick laugh, and slap his hand with all the strength you could give in that moment. 

“Get out of my way, pretty boy.”

“I don’t want to.”

You stood up and dodged him, quickly leaving the classroom. Thankfully, your bag was on the floor next to the trash— you figured the girls were too disgusted at the thought of touching a trash can.

Huh, pathetic. 

A taller body falls into step beside you as you approach the trash can to get your hiking backpack. 

“Leave me alone.”

“And get hounded again by those lunatics?”

You grabbed your backpack, and swiftly turned around to be faced by his body blocking your line of sight. 

“Welcome to the circus, we’re all freaks where money doesn’t fucking cut it. Now get out of my way, Wayne.”

A week passes uneventfully. Only, a few things changed. 

One, you had your seat back. The Wayne boy had given it up for a seat in the middle. Maybe philanthropy was the calling all Waynes got off to, adopted or not. 

Two, you had your peace and silence. None of the regular bullies that made you run on errands or do their homework approached you within the last few days, so your library time was peaceful and uninterrupted. 

Three, was that anonymous chocolate bars started appearing in your locker. See, the gates had a hole in them for some reason. Some found it romantic, some found it convenient to shove micro-sized pranks. 

This was a prank, another silent joke to get your hopes up, tricking you into the thought that someone wanted to give you chocolates. 

That, or it was funny to give chocolate to the fat and ugly freak. 

Seeing they were the usual grocery store candy bars that you liked, you shrugged and ate them anyway. No poison to be found in sealed candy bars, yeah. 

It was a quiet day in the library, your safe space. Most kids didn’t like it here anyway, unbothered by any academic pressures since they had home tutors and the like. 

You? You just liked the quiet atmosphere, and the old lady that manned the circulation desk. So much so, that she let you do whatever the hell you wanted during lunch and recess. 

Focused on sketching the intricate banister that led to the second floor of the huge library while listening to Nirvana’s In Utero for what was probably the nth time this week, you didn’t register the presence that slid beside you on the work table. 

That was until a chocolate bar slid your way. A cereal Reese’s bar— the kind that always popped up inside your locker. 

You looked up. 

It was the Wayne boy. 

Quickly, you remove your headphones and let it hang on your neck. 

“YOU were the one shoving chocolate into my locker???”

A faint shush came from Mrs. Amantis, a lighthearted one since she liked you anyway. 

Jason shrugged, “didn’t know how to say sorry without bugging you, really.”

The faint growl and grunge of Scentless Apprentice faintly buzzed beneath your stubby chin. 

He squinted, “is that… Nirvana?”

Right on cue, Kurt Cobain’s crashout screams were heard by the both of you. 

To that, you both chuckled, until it became full-on muffled laughs from you. 

“Uh—” you snickered, “yeah. How could you tell?”

“Probably the sweet, sweet melody of—” another barrage of screams interrupted him.

He hid a smile beneath his hand, “yeah, that.”

He peeked at your sketchbook, “cool drawing.”

“Thanks. Also,” you decided to be blunt. It wasn’t like you had anything to lose by offending yet another rich Gotham kid.

“Why are you being nice to me?”

Jason stared at you for a bit, obviously taken aback. “Am I… not allowed to be?”

“I get that you’re the new kid, Wayne.” You paused the music on playback through your iPod before staring him dead into the eyes.

“But you’re practically committing social suicide by doing this. No one likes me— in case you’re blind or oblivious to something universal.”

He crossed his arms, and slumped into the chair. 

“Well, that’s just dumb. I like you.”

You felt your brows shoot up into your hairline. 

“Are you crazy?????”

Jason groaned, “not that high of a bar to beat, really. You think it’s fun to be surrounded by a bunch of sissies riding on their daddy’s money and bragging about their acre-wide patios? All I want is someone to talk about homework to, for fucks sake.”

Before you could volunteer the pretty prep kids in your class, he pushed his palm out to stop your thought. 

“Yeah, I know what you’re thinking. The preppy kids are too busy being snooty and sucking up to our teachers— heck all they talk about is how they’re gunning for Ivy League— point is I really don’t care.”

“How am I any different from those kids, Wayne?”

He shrugged, “you’re… Normal. Cool, even.”

“Mmm. Bullshit.”

“You dissed our maths teacher to filth that they had to reexplain the whole lesson bottom down. And our music teacher that graduated from fuckin’ Julliard.”

“...Your point being?”

He pushed the candy bar to your hands resting on the desk. “I’d like a friend, preferably one that doesn’t grate my ears. You fit the bill.”

The bell rings, you take your cue and stand up. 

“What makes you so sure you don’t grate my ears, Wayne?”

A smug voice called out to you as you took your leave, “‘cause you’re sensible, and you rock a mean pair of noise-cancelling headphones to block my ear-grating. Sennheiser Momentums are pretty cool, yeah.”

You clutched your analog headphones you’ve had since grade school, and walked away. 

He’d bug off after a week, they all did.

Another week passes, and the first quarter ends. Morning rushes in with whispers amongst the class on which seat they want the most since homeroom teachers normally gave free reign unless they were a sadist and thought of a wicked seating arrangement. 

Of course, your throne remains unchallenged. As much as the corner of the room was the coolest seat anyone could have, you’ve brainwashed the whole class into thinking it was for losers. 

Oh well, sucks to suck for them. You’re having a great time at the back. 

It just so happened that the kids that sat beside you and in front of you were practically high school dropouts at this rate— mostly gone from their seats by at least half of the year. By the good will of their families’ money did they get to scrape by. 

In the front row were the preps and scholars. You’d think the scholars that had less money than you wouldn’t dare judge you, but the world didn’t reward saints. They, at most, were neutral with you— only deigning you their attention whenever they needed a brain that worked in group projects or a really difficult homework task. In the middle to the periphery were the rest of the high strung, self-absorbed jerks that constituted the general populace of Gotham Academy.

The people in your row were mostly borderline dropouts, or druggies. With that being said, you really didn’t talk to anyone near you. And so, peace continued and you’d hope that it would continue. 

In the middle of the classroom, the girls were hogging the Wayne boy’s attention. Probably bugging him to be seatmates and eventually, get into his pants. 

Pfft. Pretty boy would probably hurl at the thought of fucking any of your classmates. Well, it was an educated guess. You didn’t know him well enough to assume. Boys will always be boys. 

The only fatter fuck than you in the eight corners of your classroom entered— Mr. Potts. With a folder and all of your official school pictures printed out into one by one inch squares. 

You still wanted to wring the old fucker out for giving your seat to the Wayne boy. 

“Alright alright settle down, good morning to all of you.” He shuffled into the teacher’s table, and flopped onto his desk the neat folder. 

“You have ten minutes to scramble and find a seat for this quarter. I don’t care where any of you goes— just make sure that you exchange with at least one person.”

Huh, so much for defending your throne. You scan the classroom, and yep, you really don’t care about any of these pompous fucks. The sight of the two empty chairs around you prop up a funny line of thought— a thought that would defend your throne. You smile to yourself, and happily maintain your plopped ass on the chair like it was cemented to it. The class had all but settled, so maybe you could get your way—

Mr. Potts sees this, and quickly calls out to you. 

“L/N, I don’t see you changing seats. You have five minutes.”

“I already did, Mr. Potts.”

“Oh yeah? I’m old, not blind. You haven’t moved.”

You gesture towards the two empty seats that surrounded you, “I swapped with Falcone. Then I swapped with Crowne, then Falcone again. That’s thrice for the three of us, which follows your rules Mr. Potts.”

He stared you down, you knew he really didn’t give a damn. But a little ugly girl getting the upper hand was an easy trigger for the misogynist fuck. 

“You know the rules imply to not take the same seat, L/N.”

“Yeah, you could include them next quarter sir. Oh, wait. You aren’t our homeroom adviser by next semester. My apologies.”

A little satisfaction runs through you when some of the scholars chuckle at your little debacle. The nepo babies on the other hand, weren’t pleased with you getting your cake and eating it too as seen by the sneers on their faces.

From the other side of the classroom, one kid stood up. Your eyes dart to them for a second. 

The Wayne boy. 

He grabbed his bag swiftly and suddenly, he was making his way towards your corner. 

The only seats that were available were either in front of you, or beside you. 

The fucker plops his bag onto the floor beside the seat in front of you. Great, now he was blocking your view of the chalkboard. 

“You stupid ass, move out of the way. You’re blocking the board.”

He turns his body towards you, palm in cheek. “That’s what you get for sitting at the back and being a short stack.”

You groaned. The female body was a pain to deal with, and now you were being dissed for the laws of Mendelian genetics— something you had no control over. 

“At least get the seat beside me.”

Three minutes remained before Mr. Potts locked the seat plan in.

“And let you hog the window?”

“It’s still pretty visible from the seat beside me.”

“Hmm. Well, if you agree to eat lunch with me then it’s a deal.”

You stared at him like he was from Mars. What the fuck was up with this guy?

Yeah, you still liked looking at the board. 

“...Fine.”

For the first time, he smiles at you. Teeth that were a little crooked, and dimples popped.

You get annoyed for a bit, no one had the right to be that pretty and decent, not in this school.

He throws his bag with eerie precision towards the chair beside you. 

“Oh but I prefer spending lunch in the library.”

“Yeah, I figured.”

Surprisingly, being Jason’s friend was pretty easy. You hung out at recess and lunch, then texted a bit whenever one of you was stumped at a particular subject. You hated anything that involved memory work, and he hated drawing and your fine arts classes. The rest were more of you both hate-consuming the material your old teachers didn’t bother updating. 

The library quickly became his safe space too, with Mrs. Amatis quickly adopting him as her own. 

“Never took you for the whole prince and princess trope enjoyer.”

You stared at your supposed friend, then at the young adult book in your hands. 

“It’s basically the reverse of the bachelorette, in a weird dystopian-monarchial setting. Is it trash? Yeah. But it’s fun trash.”

He peeked over your shoulder, “...the fuck? Who names their son Maxon?”

“Wanna see the name of the other guy in the love triangle?”

“Sure.” You flicked to a page from earlier in the book, and thumbed the passage where the said character was crashing out. 

“What the fuck are these names? America? Aspen???”

You smiled, and flicked back to your original page. “Yeah. Like I said, stupid fun.”

Eyeing his own literature of choice, a thick Russian literature tome that probably was older than the entire library you scoff. 

“God, you’re weird.”

“What?”

“Dude. We’re fifteen, why are you reading… the fuck is this book— War and Peace? Isn’t that a book for old dudes? Read The Martian or something.”

“I’ve read it. Definitely mid.”

You chuckled, and flicked to the next page. “Heh, yeah point taken.”

That was how your day usually went. He never texted you on weekends, and you did the same. 

This was fine, you figured you were decent enough company for him to pass the time. But you knew that deep down, that was all this was. 

Convenience. 

It wasn’t until the third quarter, where the two of you exchanged seats (you reluctantly gave him your throne, just to shut him up) when he brought up the idea of hanging out with you during the break.

“Hey, Reese’s, come over for the weekend.”

Your ear grated at the shitty chocolate-related nickname. 

“Uh. What?”

“Come over for the weekend,” Jason shrugged. “Bruce got me a new game console and stuff, and I need a player two.”

Your chauffeur could use a detour from the usual school-mall-library you had him fetch you to and fro. That, and your parents and older siblings weren’t around anyway. 

“Sure. What game?”

Jason grinned, “Minecraft.”

You sent him a teethy grin. “You fucking nerd! I’m in.”

Smash cut to you staring at the wide expanse of the Wayne manor, which was actually only a few minutes away from your own home on the other side of Gotham Heights. 

Your family was loaded, sure, but the Waynes really were old money in every sense of the word. 

You had texted Jason prior, but ringing the doorbell felt a little intimidating. Your chauffeur however wasn’t going anywhere until he saw your ass enter the manor for safety reasons. 

Jason assured you that no one other than he and their only butler was in the house. His older brother and Father were out so, really you had the manor to yourselves. 

A few months back, you’d punch yourself and laugh at the thought of the Wayne boy dragging you over to his home to hang out. 

You. The fat ugly kid that no one liked.

Well, this was really just a friendly hang out so, yeah. This was basically nothing. 

That said, the past months had been kind of good to you. Your mother got you on a specific meal plan— something along the lines of getting hereditary PCOS… you really didn’t listen, but hey. Your period cramps were a lot less painful, and the acne had calmed down to a few stubborn spots rather than your whole face. Oh, and for some reason, your tits had gotten a lot heavier. 

Hey, puberty was weird but you’d take these small improvements anyday. 

So you decided to let yourself be a little confident today. An oversized Nirvana tee and denim shorts, paired with Doc Martens that you got for your sixteenth a month ago. You also snagged your older sister’s eyeliner and black eyeshadow— who knew makeup could be fun? 

Your untamable hair was a problem for another day, so the messy bun behind your head had to do.

Jason wouldn’t care so it’s not like you were dressing up for him. It was just… nice to feel comfy in your own skin. A feeling you didn’t mind getting used to.

The clock ticked as you waited patiently in front of the entrance like the good kid that you were. 

The door swung open, and you were met with a grin and a tug. 

“Get in Reese’s, you’re helping me beat the ender dragon.”

To your right, before you could even greet him was the butler. 

Jason dragged you upstairs, “we’ll be upstairs, Alf!”

“Jason slow down— what are we even playing on?”

“Nintendo Switch.”

“…Oh God we are so fucked.”

“YOU FUCKING IDIOT! WHO THE FUCK PUTS A BED IN THE NETHER?”

“Me. Because you were being a shitass and stole my diamond pickaxe.”

Jason scowled, sulking at his lost progress. “I hate you so much.”

“Sure. Said the guy who begged to be my friend for weeks. You’re as much of a loser as me, Todd.”

Reloading at the spawn point with not a block of wood to his name, he grumbles at the sight of your inventory filled with his loot. 

“I regret bringing you over.”

“Your fault for having someone like me as your friend— oh! A nether fortress!”

An even louder groan erupted from the boy beside you, making you laugh uncontrollably. 

Downstairs, Dick chats away happily with Alfred in the kitchen. 

“Where’s Littlewing, Alfred?”

“In his room, sir. With a friend.”

Above, they hear a loud scream, followed by a fit of laughter and cussing. 

“Now where did he get a friend like that?” Dick leaned over the counter, snatching a muffin from the heated tray. 

“Apparently from school, sir.”

Realization spread through Dick’s expression. “Wait— is this the Reese’s kid Jason skipped out on patrol for? Just to run to the grocery store for a pack of the chocolate???”

“The very same, sir.”

“...Wow. The kid’s whipped.”

“Indeed, sir. Although, he might not be aware of it yet.”

Dick pushed himself off the counter, “lemme guess. You’ve got a bet going on with Bruce?”

Alfred took four muffins from the pan to cool, then turned to get the proper kitchenware for plating. “Master Bruce had bet it would take our young Master Jason a year. I say the end of the school year would be sufficient, perhaps.”

Plated and freshly baked peanut butter and chocolate muffins in hand, Alfred heads upstairs. 

“You are welcome to introduce yourself, sir. The boy does miss your presence quite a bit.”

Dick jogged towards the stairs after grabbing a handful of cookies, “coming!”

“Feast your eyes on grass, Todd. GRASS!”

“Wow. Wheat. Great. Love that. Wait— when did you learn how to use redstone?”

“Online.”

“…Nerd.”

“Thus said the weirdo who died thrice due to fall damage.”

A knock on the door broke you and Jason out of your concentration. You had given up on your quest to kill the dragon, and settled for terrorizing a village then building a farm. 

“Master Jason? Your brother is here, and I’ve brought some refreshments.”

Your eyes widen, then you grab Jason’s hoodie, nearly choking the poor boy. 

“I thought no one was here!”

“Yeah— let me go. I gotta answer the door.”

Bare feet running towards the door, Jason opened the door. By the doorway was the old butler with kind eyes, and an older boy that looked like he walked off a Teen Vogue magazine

…Oh. Right. His brother was Dick. The Dick Grayson-Wayne. One of the hottest guys that had graced your social circles since their father in the nineties. 

“Hey, Littlewing! Figured I’d drop by before heading back to Jump City.”

The older boy ruffled Jason’s head, much to his chagrin. 

“You could have given me a heads up, Dick.” Jason sighed, walking back to your pillow fort with a plate of muffins in hand. 

Oh. Fuck. Sweets. 

You weren’t allowed to have those. Shit. 

And they were Reese’s flavored too. God damn it, Jason. 

You’ll just… drink water and try to dodge eating them. Or something. Take a bite or two then throw it in the trash.

Dick enters the room, smiling in your direction. “Oh? Looks like I’m not the only guest here. Hi! I’m—”

“Everyone in Gotham knows who you are, dude.” You rest the joy-con on the floor. You grab the hand on his side that wasn’t even outstretched, and robotically shake it. 

“F/N L/N. Your brother’s really bad at Minecraft so he needed a little saving.”

“You blew me up!”

You smirked, “go tell ‘em tiger.”

Dick laughed, “oh, L/N? You wouldn’t happen to be—”

You winced, “spare me the theatrics, Dick. You probably did fuck my sister in highschool.”

Silence washed over the four of you. That, until Jason laughed. Loud. His older brother’s jaw was on the floor, and Alfred was all the more amused.

“Quite the riveting conversation, Miss L/N. I’ll do you the favor of retrieving Master Dick’s ego this instant and leave you two to your date.”

Now, it was both your turn and Jason’s to be flustered.

“Date?!”

“Alfred wait—”

Truly, it was a night to be remembered for the both of you. Mostly for you, it was all you had to hold on before it happened.

Bruce and Alfred’s bet never really did have a true winner, nor did you get to finish the year with your friendship with Jason intact.

Why? Well, Jason suddenly just… disappeared. 

Your friend who was known to love classes and rage-bait your teachers to high hell suddenly dropped out of school. 

Just like that, the bullying came back. You were alone again. 

But it was fine. Your friendship was a convenience which benefitted the both of you. At least, that was what you wanted to think. Afterall, you knew it would never end well.

Jason Todd, somehow, had pierced through your heart. And his absence made the truth beat out of your chest. Somewhere throughout the year, you had fallen for your weird seatmate. But that was that, a crush your teenage heart had, and simultaneously the starting point of you knowing that at least for a small while, someone liked you enough to be friends.

That was enough to push you forward.

As the world revolves around the sun, years pass. You’ve moved on and made a name for yourself— and so has he. But not once, did your paths cross until ten years into the future.

———

Jason sighed for the umpteenth time, gazing up at the five star hotel he honestly preferred to not enter. 

But his therapist urged him to go. She said it would do him at least some good in the socializing aspect of his life— something that was severely lacking in. 

It had been ten years since his death, and a few years since he’d gotten his GED and patched his life up. For the most part, he’d spent his time post-resurrection as Red Hood rather than Jason Todd. 

He didn’t even like the people from his alma mater, some were tolerable just because he was Bruce Wayne’s kid, but the only person he really cared about was you. 

You, who if memory served him correctly, would rather slit your throat open than attend this kind of event. 

With a heavy heart, he trudged his way towards the reception hall.

“Jason? Wayne— is that really you?”

Lea— was that her name— approached him near the entrance. If memory serves him correctly, this was the bitch who yanked your hair at the start of freshman year was all over his pubescent ass.

Yeah, he was hating this already. He had received the invitation email from her through his Wayne Enterprises email a month prior— there was no way in hell you’d show up. He was thoroughly fucked. How the hell did Dick survive this kind of torture at every Wayne event?

“Um. Yeah, me in the flesh. How’ve you been, Lea?”

He saw her right eye twitch a bit. 

Oooh. That was the wrong name, wasn’t it? (He really couldn’t care less. Really.)

Quickly, he was welcomed into the hall. Faces and names he couldn’t think of the foggiest idea from his memory. Then, he was seated in the middle of the hall. Hah, wasn’t that a throwback?

The only thing missing was you barging in and grabbing this seat from him. 

Now, wouldn’t that be a dream? Jason wondered how well the years have treated your smart ass— heck, you’d probably be a bigshot architect by now if your dreams were still the same as before. 

“Ahem.”

Jason stilled. He knew that annoying throat clear from anywhere. 

He turned towards the sound, still in disbelief. There was no fucking way—

Oh. 

Wow.

Holy shit. 

God damn. 

He almost didn’t believe it was you. Almost.

You… who rocked band shirts, sneakers, and messy buns. 

You who didn’t really care for makeup and designer shit. He had to take a double take— fuck, a triple take. 

“...Reese’s?”

If he had any doubt in his soul that it was you, the side smirk that was undeniably you hit him like a nostalgia truck. Sweet baby Jesus— it really was you. 

“Hey, nerd. Give me ten good reasons to not strangle you to death. One reason per year you went MIA.”

God was a woman. And she was asking for divine retribution right in front of him. 

On a good day, Jason liked to think he was a gentleman. 

Today was a test from Saint Peter himself because— what the actual fuck?

When did you get hot?

“...Alright, after you pick your jaw from the ground, do I have to fight you yet again for my seat?”

Jason blinked, then lightning jolted through him. Right, right. Gentleman. 

He stood up and pulled out the chair beside him for you. 

You huffed, “wow. Where was this in high school? Fine– nine reasons. I’m a merciful God.”

God, you were hot and you knew you were hot. 

Jason wasn’t blind, you had the assets in high school. Wide, breedable fucking hips. And you were well endowed in all the right places— he knew you had a hormonal problem which fucked with your self esteem and so-called potential but… holy shit. 

It was weird to be proved right.

You sat your purse on top of the satin fabric of your dress. Fuck, you weren’t even wearing anything out of the ordinary for the dress code. A black spaghetti strap satin dress, with matching pumps and simple silver jewelry. 

Some things never changed, though. He really liked the emo eyeliner you rocked back in high school— you’ve somehow made it sexier and Jason really did not know what to do with himself. 

A maneater, that’s what you were.

“Sooo,” you crossed your leg over the other, your thigh slit revealing just enough for Jason to peek at your thighs. 

What he would do to be trapped between—

Jesus. God, have mercy. 

“What have these idiots come up with for a program? I didn’t fly all the way from Metropolis for… a shitty time.”

Jason took a swig of wine. There was no way he was getting through the night without liquid courage. 

“Uh, beats me. I just got the email and, uh, went.”

You laugh, and holler for a waiter to approach you with drinks. “Yeah, same here. Never thought fucking Lia Elliot of all people would send me an email.”

Jason smiled, the wine kicking in. “Still got that filthy mouth of yours, huh.”

The waiter approached you, obviously eyeing you. You mouthed a quick thank you and slipped a hefty tip after accepting the drink. 

The wine glass touched your lips. Jason watched as your lips left the rim, leaving a stain. 

He wanted to bite and kiss that fucking lip, bad.

…Where in the Fifty Shades of Grey did that come from? 

“Mmh, yeah wine is nasty. Call me a barbarian, but I like beer a lot better.”

“Yeah. You and I both. I uh,” Jason swallowed a lump down his throat, ”don’t really drink wine.”

From the podium, a few people Jason had no idea who they were, talked about the generic bullshit. Ten years was a long time, everyone had changed, yada yada yada. His twenty-six year old ass was too sober to listen to them yap. 

Knocking back the wine, he hollered for the same waiter you flagged for another one. 

You nudged his arm, sipping a bit more. “Thought you didn’t drink?”

“I’m not listening to their shit sober, sweetheart.”

“Mmm, you could say that again.”

As he picked out a stronger drink that was not wine from the waiter, his brows shot up. 

You were as sly as ever, it seemed. And, if the double innuendo of you either agreeing with him, or… liking the nickname sweetheart was not to be missed, then what the hell. You had him line, hook, and sinker. 

Then and there, Jason decided he did not want to leave the hotel sober. 

As with all reunions, it was all just an excuse to get wasted in a hotel and crash at the said hotel. Mistakes were made, and forgotten came the morning sun. Only, Gotham’s top percenters were the demographic and getting wasted at the priciest hotel in the city. 

It didn’t take long for the introduction to finish, with the DJ at the ready, the reception hall was filled with young, dumb, horny people in their twenties with more money than the rest of Gotham. 

The kicker of the night of course, was how the others reacted to you being, well, hot. Immediately the guys that used to sneer your way were suddenly hounding you at the bar for drinks as a one way ticket into your pants. The women that used to bully you until graduation didn’t even hide their disdain. 

Well, it was their loss. You did learn how to eat pussy like a champ in college. And, you fucked with a strap good. 

That said, the feeling of suddenly getting the perks of pretty privilege was bittersweet from these asshats. 

You almost lost yourself in front of Jason. 

Where was this in high school?

Yeah, your hatred for these people ran bone deep. All you wanted was to get wasted, probably get laid, then fly back to Metropolis for another meeting with your clients.

What you didn’t expect however, was Jason Todd-Wayne showing up out of the blue after ten years. 

Hotter, buffer, sexier. Gone was the boyish lanky charm he sported that made girls flock to him in high school. 

Whatever. You didn’t expect much. 

(You did, you really did expect him to be normal around you and not objectify you to the extent your creepy batchmates were.)

After driving the tenth Steve away to leave you alone, you spot Jason across the bar, nursing a Corona. 

Fuck, you wanted one too. 

You slide up to the handsome fucker, a little tipsy but still coherent. 

“‘Sup, stranger.”

He was mid chug, ‘til his eyes landed on you. 

Wiping his mouth with his wrist, he coughed. 

“Want a cold one?”

“Yes please.”

One or ten bottles later, you both somehow find yourselves drunk on the dance floor amidst the sea of bodies undulating around you in a technohaze. 

In the air, Sabrina Carpenter’s Bed Chem played. Jason had long rid himself of his tuxedo jacket, giving you the wonderful eyeful of his chest. Unbuttoned just enough to give you an idea that this man, for the ten years that you had not seen each other, had gone from a pretty boy-next-door, to straight up daddy.

Oh, you weren’t even going to deny it. Jason was hot and if the night ended with him inside you, all coherent thought and consequences would be worth it. Not because you were horny— that  was true but mainly because if there was anyone in the entirety of this reunion you were not going to fully hate-fuck, it would be him. 

Maybe fifty-percent hate-fuck.

(If it became a scandal tomorrow, fuck it. Metropolis was your home anyway.)

Pushed by liquid courage and audacity, you grab Jason’s collar and pull him towards you. Even in heels, he towered over you. 

You eyed his lips, inching higher while tugging his collar down to you. You felt the heat of his intoxicated breath on yours.

“Hey.”

His voice came out across your lips as breathy, a little winded. 

You bit your lip, biting down a smirk. 

“Hey.”

Jason smelled wonderful, like sandalwood and… was that motor oil?

The image of him riding a motorcycle runs through your mind. Shit, hot.

The song slowly morphed into Sabrina’s new hit— at which you chuckled. The smooth bass and funk licks sent you into groove. When did you get hot? would live on to be a classic.

You turn around, letting go of his collar. As the beat dropped, so did you. Dragging your body down, against the hard planes of his front. It’s didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out he was interested in fucking your brains out, if the pressure you felt between his pants on the way down was anything to go by.

Somehow, in the span of a few seconds the two of you had joined the swarm of grinding bodies. Your soft hips bunched up in his grasp, and your sweet supple behind grinding into the hard expanse of his lower abdomen. Dangerously near his… light rod. (Thank you Sabrina.)

His lower abs felt delightfully solid against you rutting your behind against him— his fingers slowly massaging your love handles.

Your fingers played with the hairs at his nape, tugging a bit at the soft curls. That earned you a groan and a tighter grip.

His grip shifted from mauling your hips to the small of your back. His thumbs gently dug and ground themselves into where your tailbone was, just above your ass. 

Ooh, that felt really, really good. 

You had to fuck this man, now.

“Jason— mmm, baby?”

His voice was in your ear, his hands now running up and down your hips to the tops of your thighs. 

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“I need you, now.”

In a blink, you were a bridal carry and the blurry visage of the bar was getting farther and farther. 

Jason had no idea how one moment, you were riling him up so much he thought he’d go into a fucking rut, then the next you were making out in the hotel elevator on your way to the top floor. 

Pinned to the wall of the elevator, Jason ground his thigh against the heat beneath your dress, delighted at the warm sensation of your arousal. 

“Mmm, y’taste so sweet, baby.”

Your hands were lost in his locks, and you whined at the loss of his lips against yours.

“Mmh— more please.”

Jason huffed a laugh, his hands now fully gripping the expanse of your ass and molding it to his heart’s content.

“More? Baby wants more?”

Sliding his hands away from your ass, he props you up with one arm into a bridal carry. Right on cue, the elevator dings and opens.

Onto the drunken devil’s tango, it seemed. 

taglist: @roccosgirl @cinnam0ngirlxo @jasontoddsthunderthigh @burndownyourparade @miixvzzz @eatshitanddie- @toonya @sowhatifimslow

[angeliyuu]

angel startin a reblog game on a saturday?! ٩(๑❛ᴗ❛๑)۶ reblog with nine of your f/os/faves !! let's see if there is a trending type hehehe

very shyly tagging some mooties :3 no pressure !! @heiayen @sincerelyhunnybee @carminechrollo @yaminohimeyume @dewberrydusk @hikentomori n whoever wants to join !!

[stellarixe]

THANKSS SO MUCH FOR THE TAG LOVELY LIAA @caramelluxe ☆ 💕💕💕🍥🍥 !! there's probably a pattern here.. maybe.. maybe (˶˃𐃷˂˶) 💖💖💖

[ 🦇 no pressure tags : @xxscarlettstarxx , @kianaflame23 , @kixxtie , @getorade , @kldgo , @remoriast , @sorreleia , @emxoxo05 , @heavenssxnt , @liliklei , @rainlina , @storynette , @cherrys-wrld , @amortoru + anyone who wants to do it 🍥 ! ]

[rip-cherrys-wrld]

EEE THANK YOU FOR TAGGING ME ARIA I LOVE TAG GAMES

category is: dark haired baddies + Kyojuro and gojo

npts: @uzugeto @sugurusbadhabit @suguruss1ut @lemonjuicie @venusins @fricknation @ryosprincess @tojiscreampie @iamsoclone @oporotheca @pika-toru @angelicarlert @stberrypuss @darlingbambii @getosurya @hotties4gojo @jiyuspassion @lunarkyn @loverboykirstein @mimiiis and anyone who wants to join in :)

[darlingbambii]

thank you for the tag cherry baby >//< i love youu

no pressure tags 💗 @whispers-of-aurora @liliklei @heavenssxnt @sixxels @ryosprincess @lemonjuicie @venusins @storynette @cassideezlife @cupidstrace @strawb3rryhachi (basically most of the server im in 😭)

[lemonswirlss]

ty for the tag lili, cherry, and bambi!!! <33

no pressure tags: @iheartanzai @ieatkunas @getopilleds @getosurya @stberrypuss @satorusiito

[satomiu]

‎𓊆ྀི 𓏼⑅ i love tag games ! noticing a trend . . . they're either loud / annoying as shit or quiet as hell

꒰꧞ ˃ ⌔ ˂ ིྀ꒱ ۫ ݂ np tags ! : @kunacakes @chosouholic @amortoru @sweetieelilii @kryingk4t @mokkiaun @illumoria @storynette

[toruuholic]

yayy thank u for the tag these games are soo fun ^_^

i like my men big and strong or pretty and pathetic

. . no pressure tags! — @dollfate @rivypetals @vogueprincess @nkentosdoll

[kunascuti]

Tyy for the tag cutie ! (ᐡ⸝⸝> ̫ <⸝⸝ᐡ)

I like my men beefy and mean ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂｡)ɞ

no pressure tags!! @yummystudios @slutla @amortoru @carmysdoll @lilahthedoll @ryomeian @amorgasmic @gojocrush (if you don’t wanna be tagged in this type of stuff pls lmk! I don’t mind at all <33)

[lilahthedoll]

tysm for the tag angel !! (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

can you guys tell i like superheroes and jjk?

no pressure tags ♡ : @lacyydollette @mfstargrll @pittsick @sturniphone @vogueprincess @lordcowgirl @mattflvwr @sturniphone @flwrlea @polkaglock @cameronsbabydoll @dailydoseofchratt @mattscoquette @bruisedfig @irisgrrl @v3mpirs @spookysturnz

( if you don’t wanna be tagged in this sort of stuff pls lmk !! )

[irisgrrl]

thank you for the tag sweetheart🫂

guys, is my favourite type of characters obvious?

no pressure tags!!: @cherryvvave @tinas111 @cryptic-doe @dreamersentity @gr0und-zer00 @biovomit @mfstargrll @plasticflowersinahistorycemetery @filthgf @amourflores @bloomcissa

[cherryvvave]

thank you for the tag!!

no pressure tags!! : @that-dumb-bunny , @lechelovestoyap , @sozzoe , @moviecritc , @batwngs , @bloomcissa , @gildra-esque (forgot to tag my twin..)

[that-dumb-bunny]

Thank u @cherryvvave and @bloomcissa for the tag, love uuu 💕

Im quite surprised by the diversity of fandoms i choose lol

No pressure tag . . . @sozzoe @froggibus @i-gotta-go-so-much-bigger @luviery @cinnamon-girl-writes @lechelovestoyap

[luvieriesse]

Thank you @that-dumb-bunny for the tag 🫶🫶

No pressure tag: @t1mbits @patientofarkhamasylum @eunoianss @milkybbun @neeeed-y @devisedplan @preztail + anyone else who wants to join!

[eunoianss]

thank you for the tag 🩷🌸⛅️ @luvierying

i can’t think of anyone to tag so feel free to reblog and join!!!!

[eunoianss]

“We Can’t Be Friends” ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ jason todd

In a twist of events, Jason Todd has reentered your life after years of his documented death. You welcome him back with the promise of a dedicated, strictly platonic friendship to ensure he stays—permanently this time. But a night out at a busy bar proves it has other plans for the two of you when you can’t stop ignoring how attractive your best friend has gotten in your time apart. jason todd x fem!best friend reader <𝟑 .ᐟ wc: 5.2k cw: intoxicated, steamy makeout that takes place mostly in public, miscommunication?, some angst, some fluff, and def some misplaced semicolons!

The bar is swarmed tonight—a Friday—which you should’ve deduced would be amasssed with nine-to-fivers, itching for end-of-the-week relief through drunken stupor. The music drums against your ears, droning out every conversation into a continuous, loud, and deafening hum that leaves your head throbbing.

You can’t tell if your shirt is sodden from the wavering glasses of spilling drinks or from the muggy  atmosphere that's producing trails of sweat down your spine, but you assume it’s a sticky combination of the two. You seem to glide as you jostle through the throng of dancing, drunken bodies, the soles of your shoes slipping on the booze-slicked floors. Under normal circumstances, you’d reassess, wait for Jason to find you in the sea of inebriated frenzy. But ambition buzzes through your veins and is only exacerbated by your intoxication.

​You continue to snake your way through the crowd to find Jason, whom you’d sworn was standing here all but five, maybe ten, minutes ago, but was lost in the density. With impressive tunnel vision, your eyes scan each nameless face as you search for your tall, dark-haired companion while gripping the beverages above your head as movement threatens to spill them over. Where was that behemoth mass of a man?

You feel him before you see him, as Jason’s calloused hands reach out, gently stabilizing your wrists to turn you around and face him. He’s also sweating; his fringe matting against his forehead in spindly little curls. His dark leather jacket is now slung over his shoulder, revealing the nakedness of his bulky arms, which easily steady you.

“Jay!” You laugh. “You scared me!”

“Well, you were spilling your drinks all over yourself, sweetheart,” Jason teases.

And he was right: Your forearm is sticky and dewy, a consequence of your bones being liquified by liquor. He takes the beer you grabbed for him, places it between his lips, and takes a long swig. His cheeks are tinged with a rosy hue, and his white shirt clings to him wetly from the humidity. The glossiness of his eyes mirrors yours, growing hazier as the music swings and the night grows darker.

You take an equally long sip from your drink, then playfully huff, "Well, maybe if you had gone to get the drinks yourself.”

“You were gone before I could even offer!” he says, raising his arms defensively.

“Chivalry is so dead.”

“Your drinks are on my tab, doll.” He snorts, tongue-in-cheek, and you grin at him.  Looking at your best friend, you’re glad the two of you made it out tonight, although his previous hesitations made you wonder if he would come at all.

· · ─ ·ʚɞ· ─ · ·

The events of your evening began earlier in the day, when you had suggested the two of you have a night out.

Jason brought takeout and a sheepish expression as he helped himself to your TV and streaming services, easily making himself at home in loose sweats and a black compression shirt.

Over the past months, both of you had fallen back into a familiar, steady friendship, marked by sporadic visits and regular text exchanges.

You were happy to have him back in your life. Although he rarely went into details of his death—a concept that still warps your mind—and he was definitely different, haunted even, but you accepted him as he came. You offered him uncomplicated, loyal friendship bolstered by movie nights and fast food.

You were sitting lazily on the couch, limbs sprawled, your feet on his lap, enjoying a greasy slice of pizza, and staring at him with a mischievous glint in your eye. Jason was happily distracted; crumbs lining his lips, and trying to ignore —with a very obvious and judgmental side eye—your stare that was scorching into his flesh.

“Stop staring at me, you’re freaking me out,” he said, finally facing you.

“I can’t lovingly gaze at my best friend?” you asked, faux innocence dripping from your tongue.

“Never without wanting something,” Jason said before shoveling another cheesy slice into his mouth.

“You know me so well.” You sat up straight and inched closer to him. “But, you know how my finals finished? And you know how I’ve been cooped up in this apartment for the past couple of weeks?” He listened, still licking his grease-lined fingers. “What if we get into a little late-night fun?”

His eyes bore into you for a moment, then he chewed and gulped down his bite. “Absolutely not.”

You furrowed your brow in offense. “Why not?”

“I’m tired. And plus there’s food here. And entertainment,” he grumbled, pointing at the TV. He then glanced down at his attire. “Plus, look at what I’m wearing.” He turned to you, gesturing his hand up and down while assessing you. “Look at what you’re wearing.”

You pushed your knees up self-consciously as he referenced your fuzzy pajama bottoms and the raggy ‘Wayne Enterprises’ t-shirt you’d acquired during a middle school field trip. “We’ll obviously change.”

“Also, many of those clubs are crime-affiliated—”

“I’m not talking about those ones!” you rebutted.

“Plus, I thought you were the one who said all the bars in Gotham were shitholes?”

“I don’t think I said that.”

He pulled out his phone, scrolling purposefully and thumbing at the screen until he discovered the incriminating evidence he needed, shoving it in your face for you to bear witness. “Look.”

And there it was, your annoyingly bright, culpable message: ugh i would never be caught dead there. all the bars here are SHITHOLES!!!

“Ugh, I would never be caught dead there,” Jason read, mocking your tone of voice.

“Oh, come on. We missed out on formidable years! I missed out on sharing our first beer, our first whiskey. Watching a Goliath’s game at one of those gross sports bars...” You trailed off with an unserious pout.

“Okay, Dad,” he scoffed. But Jason could tell, behind your veil of humor, there was an eclipsed gravity to your words. Behind your lashes, your eyes were attempting to project ambiguity and mask any trace of hurt. It was something you did as often as it rained in Gotham, so constant it seemed emblatic. You never did it maliciously; it came to you like breathing: without thinking. And Jason didn’t blame you—the circumstances of your friendship had only settled into something assured within the past year.

To his surprise, you’d never left Gotham and even attended its local university. And, when you saw Jason again for the first time in years, alive and in flesh, after his publicly announced death, you’d wept for hours until you were red-nosed and your eyes were so bloodshot it was as if the vessels had burst.

Running into him was an accidental encounter, a cosmic interference that dangled you in front of him with a hypnotic oscillation, tempting him to dredge up his memories of you.  

He should’ve lied when you first made eye contact that night. Pretended you had him confused with someone else. He wasn’t the same childhood friend he’d left behind in his death. Jason was no longer a gangly sapling of a kid, sprouting under a sun of hope and adventure. Something in him rotted after his death; his roots were damaged.

But the pull of your bond drew him in. Memories of your cherub cheeks rounding in unadulterated laughter, nights awake defiantly fighting sleep, and your squiggly handwriting on the notes you used to pass him in class; it was nostalgic.

So Jason let himself have it. Let himself have you in a desperately selfish way that secretly yearned for companionship. Friendship. So after he found you, he explained the circumstances of what had happened slowly, something you still grappled to understand, but listened to patiently. Guilt bubbled in his stomach.

He exhaled, nostrils flared. “Okay, fine. But I’m serious, if you get plastered, I’m not holding your hand while you puke.”

“Please, I’m not fifteen, Jay,” you mocked. He rolled his eyes. “And anyway, you won’t have to. I’ve got shit to do tomorrow, so I can’t go crazy.”

​· · ─ ·ʚɞ· ─ · ·

But one drink had turned into two, and coherence began to falter into fumbled and slurred words. It’s how both of you found yourselves glued together at this shitty bar with a spacious enough dancefloor, dancing to the beat of an outdated playlist, forgetting about the comfortable space of your apartment.

Jason is loose, his head thrown back, and the usual stiffness of his shoulders now as weightless as his head is lightheaded.

He can’t remember the last time he fully let himself get drunk. Never with Roy, out of respect for his sobriety, and never alone: his upbringing in Park Row gave him an adverse relationship with substances in general. But he feels unexpectedly safe with you.

Maybe it’s the shared history from childhood, meeting you at North Gotham Junior High after getting paired off for a reading project, and bonding over your love character meta-analyses. Or maybe it’s the way you constantly check in on him, even when he goes ghost for a couple of days. Regardless, Jason watches the gleeful upturn of your lips, pearly teeth bared in an unforgiving grin that he doesn’t want to admit makes his heart lurch like a thudding drum against his chest.

“Jay, I missed you so much!” you slur, a hiccup escaping your lips as you stumble towards him, tripping over an abandoned beer bottle on the floor.  He guides you to the corner of the room, somewhere where the music doesn’t blast over the sound of conversation.

He really did get handsome. He was always cute, in the boyish, innocent way that used to make your heart flutter if you stared at him for too long. But now, Jason was fleshed out. Still pretty, with his long, full lashes and teal eyes that turned into half-crescents when he laughed with his whole body. They paired magnetically with the chisel of his jaw, the fullness of his high cheekbones, the veins that trailed his arms—and what the hell were you thinking? You swatted the thoughts away. Telling yourself that acknowledging that having an attractive, sweet friend like Jason was as normal as acknowledging the blaring sun in the peak of summer.

Plus, it’s not that you noticed much, or so you told yourself. And you definitely weren’t noticing the broadness of his chest as your tits accidentally smush against him, suddenly soberingly aware of his warmth. You straighten out, but his grip on you doesn’t loosen. His hands are assessing your stability with tender care, making sure you can’t trip or fall.

“I missed you, too,” he admits. He brushes the loose strands of hair from your eyes, soaking up the gentle expression on your face.

You cup his cheeks, pulling his chiseled face closer. "No, no," you whine, voice trembling. "I don’t think you get it." Raw ache throbs in your heart. "I was so, so,  lonely, and you were—are—my best friend." The words tumble out of you with the unrestrained bravery only liquid courage can coax.

“And I know—I know you’re all pent up and bottled up, and I get you can’t share everything yet. But I hope—” Hiccup. “—I hope you know, I’m here for all of it. All of you.” God, you really did get sappy off of booze.

“What’s this, armchair psychology?” he asks with a cocky grunt, hoping to ease your drunken weepiness. But Jason is no better. His walls yield to your words and touch. He’s always loved the way you reassured him—he could get drunk off of that alone.

“No, I just always want to make sure that you know.” You jab your pointed finger into his sternum to get your point across. He hooks his arm across your shoulder and clinks his drink against yours.

“Well, thank you for letting me know.”

You, with the hand holding your drink, link your arm with his, elbows crossing in a knot, and shoulder brush as you both tighten your proximity in a brüderschaft — or what some might refer to as a lovers shot. In tandem, you both raise your glasses and quickly swallow the rest of your drinks.

You suck your teeth, wincing, and wrinkle your nose in a way that emits a low and warm laugh from Jason. It ​only elates you.

Feeling thirsty, you’re about to make your way over to the bar again, but Jason’s already two steps ahead of you.

He returns with a beer for himself and nothing for you—because he fears that your stomach’s already nauseating concoction of beer and fruity cocktails might end up with him comforting you over the toilet bowl for the rest of the night. You frown but decide not to argue with him.

Instead, you say, “I’m having fun, aren’t you having fun?” You ask him more because you want him to admit it than because you are actually curious.

“Yeah, surprisingly,” he sighs.

Your eyes meander across the bar, gauging every unknown face. You’re doing it carelessly when you catch something that piques your interest. A woman, around your age, is tracing Jason’s movements with her eyes while nursing her drink. She’s gorgeous and holds herself so efficiently that she oozes confidence with every bat of her eyelashes. You turn to Jason, who’s nursing the beer bottle in his hand.

“I think that pretty girl over there is giving you fuck me eyes,” you mention with an overcompensating tone of nonchalance.

​“Mhm,” he hums, not really bothering to glance in the direction you were suggesting.  

You roll your eyes at his lack of interest. “Thoughts, questions, concerns?”

“About?”

“Well, do you wanna do something about it?”

That catches his attention. “Should I?” he asks, meeting your gaze with a cocked eyebrow.  He’s staring into you with narrowed eyes that glisten with genuine curiosity.

You falter slightly under his gaze, breaking eye contact. “That’s not up to me.”

He looks past your shoulder toward the bar where you’d spotted her. “She approached me earlier, while you were getting drinks,” Jason says, without any intention behind his voice. You ignore the tightness of your chest. “Asked me what I was doing later.”

“Oh?” you question, trying to assert normalcy while simultaneously afraid that if you say anything else, it might come off interrogative.

“I told her I already had plans.”

“That’s all?” You don’t know why you’re really hoping it is.

But with a guy so unconsciously demanding of attention, it rarely is. “We danced a bit; you were gone for a while. She tried to kiss me, but I changed the subject. Made my escape, and then I found you.”

“Did you think about it?” You pause, you’re pushing it, so you save it by saying, “I mean, you’re an adult, and if that’s something you wanted to do, I wasn’t going to stop you.”

“Not really. She’s pretty but not my type.” Jason is running his fingers through his hair, pushing back the sweaty strands as if unsure what to do with his hands. His back has an unnatural tautness that wasn’t there moments before.

“Okay, that’s good,” you exhale, relief washing over your shoulder like a cold splash of water.

“Good, why?”

“Because I’d be sad if you went home with someone else.”​ The words slip out before you can catch them. Jason pauses. You struggle to read his expression, but you end up with no answers. He's just staring at you with intense interest.

“Why?” he questions again.

“'Cause you’re here with me, duh.” You say it objectively. As if it were a natural evolutionary feat of life, when Jason was with you, it would only be unfair for him to leave you for someone else. “What, don’t you feel the same?” And you hate the way hope lingers needily on the question.

He tips the beer bottle back, swallowing the bitterness harshly. The thought of some shady, drunken asshole holding you sends an uncomfortable shiver down his body. “Yeah. I need to get you home safe.”

“Hm, that’s all?”

“I trust you can make smart decisions, but I would not, in good conscience, be able to sleep okay if I let you go off with a random.”

“Aw, because you love me?” The question is teasing and voiced with subtle coyness.

“Obviously,” he answers meekly. There’s a sweetness to his response that makes you want to coo at him and pinch his cheeks silly.

Your head finds his shoulder, and you let it settle there for a moment. “Hey, Jay, I love you too.” You always say it. You end phone calls with it and say it casually, without any weight. You do love him; he’s your best friend. It would be unnatural if you didn’t.

He clears his throat and breaks eye contact with you. The tips of his ears are red, the rosiness in his cheeks now reaching a bashful deep red. You almost miss it in the dim lighting, but standing so close to him lets you witness the true hues of his shyness. It only invites more adoration for him into your heart.

You place a tentative kiss on his cheek, punctuated with soft and high-pitched mwah! It was supposed to be brief, chaste, innocent. In the way that affection came to you easily when alcohol entered your system. But as you pull back, you notice the shift in Jason’s expression. It’s slight, muddled with a complicated cipher that makes his lips part. But it’s enough to make your knees wobbly.

Neither of you says anything, the mutual silence only creating a thick palpable tension as his eyes alternate between your mouth and the upper half of your face. Your hand reaches for the collar of his shirt, using it to leverage your weight as you push yourself up into him. He watches you through half-lidded eyes, never breaking his gaze on you.

His lips feel as plush and silken as they look. The kiss is experimental, brief, ending before you can truly process what’s happened. Realization sobers you, and you widen your eyes, completely aware of the implications.

“’m sorry—”

You barely have time to babble an apology, to make up whatever excuse you can muster about why you did  it, before Jason finds his way back to your pliant mouth. His thumb traces your face as he kisses you, melding the two of you together.  He opens, parting his mouth and swiping his tongue across your bottom lip. You whine against him, goosebumps sprouting on your arms, which only makes him tighten his grip on your waist.

He cranes your neck to get a better angle, and you push deeper into him, tugging at the nape of his neck. Gently, his tongue licks at yours as if savoring every taste and inch of you. His restraint only makes you dizzier with want.

You pull away from him to catch your breath, panting and staring at Jason’s similar awed expression. His lips are puffy and bright red, glistening with the trail of shared spit. The bar around you feels infinitesimal in comparison to the space both of you take up.

“Maybe...Maybe we shouldn’t,” you mumble. But the aching throb in your body betrays your words as your fingers still lock into his hair.

He nods and presses his forehead against yours. “Yeah, let’s stop,” he responds, even though he never pulls away.

And so you certainly don’t, and neither does he. You can’t stop looking at him. His eyes were so dark with desire—blown pupils and cast with a shine— and the taste of him was acidic from the beer but equally saccharine from the taste of him.

Heat blooms between your thighs. Every rational thought long abandoned—from the alcohol or from how drunk you are from the taste of him, you can't tell. But you’re languidly dragging his palm from your hips so he can cup the plumpness of your ass. Jason makes a throaty sound that only applies more pressure to your core, and for a second, you have to remind yourself that you’re not in the comfort of your own home but in the steamy throes of a populous bar.

“Tell me to stop,” Jason groans into you. He’s kneading at your flesh with ardent haste, as if every second of him not touching you pains him. And it does. From the first brush of your lips, something had begun to unfurl with no regard for logic or reason. The small voice in his head had warned him, telling him that you were his friend, that he had never looked at you in any other way. But the heat of his body and drum of his heart told him that yes, he definitely has. He wants you to satiate his craving for you that he’s had all night, no, probably this whole time. Ever since he saw you again.

His leg settles between your thighs, balancing you but also letting you drag yourself with a dizzying fiction on the muscle that practically bulges through his jeans.

“I don’t want you to stop,” you whisper into his ear.

It’s enough to make Jason feel pathetically undone by you. He kisses you again, messy and fervently.

If it weren’t for the pounding blare of the music, you were sure people would hear the obscene wet smacks of your lips and occasional throaty whines your voices emit in tandem.

It takes arduous effort to peel yourself off of him so you don’t tear each other’s clothes off and get fined for public indecency. Your fingers lace around his as you both make your way out of the bar and into the cool Gotham air.

You and Jason are a mess by the time you make it back to your apartment. He’s placing wet kisses on your exposed shoulder and all the way across your neck as you fiddle with your key. Your arm coils behind you, pressing his face closer to you as you arch your back to feel his slowly hardening length beneath the sharp metal zipper of his jeans.

When the door opens, the leftover pizza box from the platonic, shared evening sits like a shameful reminder of the past. You ignore it;  you're too busy, drowning in the sound of Jason’s needy whimpers to actually care.​

You shove him gently onto your bed, and he looks so pretty with his furrowed brow and glossy doe eyes that pool with pious adoration. His emerald irises glance up at you through his lashes like he’s about to recite a prayer for succumbing to every one of your gentle sins.

You hook your legs around his sides, straddling him, as your hands trail down to the hem of his shirt, pulling it up to reveal the taut abdominal muscles carved into his stomach.

In a moment of brief clarity, Jason pauses and softly grabs your wrist. “Wait, sweetheart. Wait a second.”

“What is something wrong?” You ask, tilting your head curiously.

You look gorgeous with your smudged lipstick, tangled hair, and cheeks lush with a peachy pink that makes him wonder how you could possibly think anything was wrong. Jason knows nothing could ever be wrong as long as you stayed on top of him like this, burning with a desire for him.

But he also knows that he wants to take his time to devour you, to worship the body that is full of love for him. And he can only do that if both of you decide to go ahead with it without the push of alcohol.

“N-no. It’s not that.”

“Hm,” you croon.

“I want to, doll. Believe me, you have no idea how much I want to. But we can’t. Not like this, when we’re both—”

You hum in response, the volume of the drinks you had now settling in your body with a sedating effect. You can’t help it; he feels so warm, and you feel so safe when he’s pressed up against you. Not to mention that being in the quiet of your apartment makes you fully aware of how exhausted you are from dancing all night.

“S’okay, Jay.” You place your full bodyweight on him and snuggle your face into his neck. “Love ya lots,” you whisper, inhaling his scent with a satisfied sigh.

“’M’kay,” he whispers, feeling his body mirror yours similarly—eyes closing on their own merit. “Love you too.”

His breathing even outs, and he wraps his arms around you, embracing you gently as he’s lulled to sleep by your gentle snores.

· · ─ ·ʚɞ· ─ · ·

The first thing you notice is how dry your mouth is. And the pounding migraine that seemed to reverberate in your head.

You’re pressing your face harder into the mattress, trying to block out the blinding sunlight, when you hear your mattress groan. You raise your head, peeking at the firmness beneath you, and receive whiplash from the memory of you not falling asleep on your mattress but on top of your best friend instead.

“Fuck,” you whisper, slowly inching yourself off of Jason, deciding to ignore the drying drool stain you left imprinted on his shirt. You quietly make your way to your dresser to grab a loose t-shirt, changing out of last night’s attire and into something that doesn’t smell like sweat and liquor.

Now fully alert from your dreamy haze, you take a moment to recollect yourself. The memory of his hands exploring the uncharted areas of your flesh; His warm breath hitting the tender spots of your neck; All of it swarms your mind.

You rub your temples before reaching for your phone to check the time. A groan escapes you as you realize the time and glance at all of the unanswered texts. You decide that his awakening is inevitable, so you walk toward him and lean over.  “Jay,” you say, shoving him. “Jason, wake up.”

He grunts, batting your arm away and attempting to block out the sun in his eyes by pressing his face further into the pillow. “It’s too early, sweetheart.”

His nickname, combined with the coarseness of his voice, sends shivers down your spine and straight into your hummingbird heart; blood rushing to your face. You clear your throat. “It’s actually 12 o’clock.”

His eye peeks open. “You’re lying.”

“No, I’m not. I slept through my brunch plans.”

He clunkily gets up, his body still tired from last night, and probably still sore from sleeping awkwardly while carrying your weight all night. “Shit, I need to get going,” he huffs as he picks up his phone from the floor.

You notice he’s acting normal, or at least, too tired to be acting otherwise. But you can see the still softly present rosy swell of his lips and the leftover smudge of lipstick ornamenting his cheeks and along the trail of his neck. You hide your creeping blush by avoiding eye contact.  

But before he can escape, you decide to address it. “Um.” You know, both of you hadn’t been nearly drunk enough to forget. But you ask anyway, “Do you remember last night?”

He stops for a second, also avoiding your gaze. He settles down onto your mattress again, sitting next to you. “When we kissed?”

Kissed was a bit of an understatement. Heavily made out and almost had sex seemed more appropriate, but you bite your lip and nod. “Yeah.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“No!” You shout a little too quickly. Did you want to talk about? You laugh it off with an awkward pitch and shake your head gently. “I mean no, it’s okay! You said you have to go anyway.”

“I can wait a second,” he gently reassures.

“I-I don’t even know what to say,” You admit, pursing your bottom lip.

His eyes widen almost imperceptibly, but enough to show concern. “Doll, do you regret it?” His voice is so tender it almost feels unfair.

You shake your head. “There’s nothing to regret.”

“Are you sure? I just want to make sure I didn’t hurt you. Because if I did—” He’s babbling now, worry lining the furrow of his brow.

“Jason, no, you didn’t hurt me. Quite the opposite, actually. I’m the one who instigated.” You bury your head in your hands, embarrassment overwhelming you. “God, I’m so stupid.”

“Hey, hey, no, you’re not stupid. You might’ve instigated, but I very eagerly participated. Many times.”​ His hands find yours, clasping them and rubbing them in reassuring circles.

You nod slowly, the heaviness of it weighing your shoulders down. It was almost humiliating how much you wanted to wrap your arms around him and kiss him again. For him to hold you and wear that same longing expression painted across his face as it had been in the fervor of your touch.  

But you didn’t know what he was thinking. Part of you wanted to open the can of worms and tell him that it wasn’t a kiss built on intoxicated nothingness. That now, no matter how much you wish to deny it, it has ignited a consuming flame in your body. But then what? If he didn’t feel the same, awkwardness could engulf your carefully forged friendship and burn it to the ground. And you couldn’t handle it again: losing him.

So you say simply, “It’s just, with everything going on, I don’t need to make your life more complicated. I don’t want to cause problems for you or be a burden.”

“Problems for me? A burden?” Confusion riddles his face.

“I mean that we just started becoming friends again this year, and I don’t want to add more pressure to your life.”  

“You’ve never added more pressure,” he says seriously. He means it. Despite the never-ending frenzy of his chaotic life, you were the constant safe outlet he could come home to.

Your eyebrows crease together, an expression Jason notes makes you look vulnerable, and his heart twists. He can tell that from the downturn of your lip to the narrowing of your eyes that even if you didn’t regret it, you were afraid of what last night had unlocked. So he pushes aside whatever feelings had been conjured in the aftermath. He swallows harshly and carefully stands up again. As he stares down at your caving figure, he can’t tell if the nausea in the pit of his stomach is stemming from residual contents of last night’s drinks or the heavy pang in his heart from the way you look so nervous.

“Okay,” he sighs.

“Okay?” you repeat.

“It was a flippant, shared moment between friends who confused vulnerability for something else,” he says with a clip in his tone. Jason doesn’t mean for it to come out like that, but he’s too busy building up a careful facade of disregard to fight against it.

“Right,” you say, your lip trembling slightly. Although you figured that it was mostly just a drunken blunder for him, and were glad your friendship could continue as it has without care for last night’s transgressions, you wondered why it felt like you were shutting the door on something else entirely.

“Is there anything else?” His voice is careful.

“N-no. There isn’t,” you reply.

You follow him to your apartment door. Your eyes on his broad back, watching as he slowly turns the knob.

“I’ll see you soon, okay?” Hope flutters in your heart.

“Always,” he responds with a small smile that contrasts with his half-lidded eyes.

When he leaves, his absence lingers like a haunting ghost. The outline of his back remains ingrained in your mind, and the air’s density never mellows; it just continues, like a sullen burden.

You exhale as if you’d been holding your breath and replay the last conversation until you’ve analyzed every crack and crevice of it—still unsatisfied with its ending.

tags: @coordastra

i don’t think 5,000 words has ever taken me so long to complete !! also reader being like “he’s my friend!” and then continuing to want to jump his bones is like one of my fave tropes. this will probs also warrant a part 2 so let me know if anyone’s interested. anyway sorry for any mistakes, i’ll probably be back to edit it later.

[athenxt]

i think i need to lay down

[eunoianss]

jason todd has a soft spot for you pt.2 | fluff | part one

Soft Boyfriend! Jason Todd, who preps fruits and vegetables for you on a random weekday night. After a particularly long day, you came home with sore feet and heavy eyelids, telling Jason you were so tired you’d decided to put your meal planning off until tomorrow. The next day, you notice them sitting in tempered glassware when you open your fridge: each cruciferous and root peeled and cut with fine care; every fruit washed and stored. On top, a post-it note he’s left for you.

Was up late, figured I’d just do it for you — J

You smile when you see he’s signed it with his initial. As if anyone else would raid your fridge in hopes of easing your daily routine.

Soft Boyfriend! Jason Todd, who, contrary to popular belief, tries to maintain a clean space wherever he goes. He extends his tidiness to your apartment, offering to fold your laundry or easily lifting the sofa while you vacuum all the crumbs and dust hiding underneath. His heap of clothes, as bulky and heavy as he is, is softly folded in “his section” of your room, as if trying to take up as little space as possible. You rarely have to ask for help, as his hands are always quick to move furniture aside or find the nearest cleaning spray.

Soft Boyfriend! Jason Todd, who still shovels the glut of mushy, overcooked spaghetti into his mouth after you accidentally left it on the stove for too long. “Jay, you don't have to eat it if you don’t like it. let’s just order takeout.” He slurps on the noodles, small sticky stains painting the corners of his mouth a muddy red, and just cocks an eyebrow.

“Takeout f’what?” Another swallow. “m’fine wih this.” His fingers swirl around the rim, coating it with the thick, gloopy sauce. Because Jason Todd is not one to waste when it comes to food or the carefully crafted devotion of the person he loves most.

Soft Boyfriend! Jason Todd, who writes you letters.  Each page is lettered in neat cursive, every dotted letter inked with eager sincerity. It was your idea at first, a personal project meant to reduce your screen time that metamorphosed into a habitual routine. He rambles about mundane tasks. Remembers the name of a cute little kid with a wide tooth gap, or muses about Gotham’s particular smell, which he insists is "part of her charm.”  He weaves each sentence and maps out a web of everyday moments, allowing you entry to his intimate thoughts and feelings. And nothing makes him happier than having you to share them with.

Soft Boyfriend! Jason Todd, who welcomes you home and takes care of you after you’ve been out with friends. He lets you wrap your legs around him as you embrace him like a koala, looking at him with a smeary smile and glossy, intoxicated eyes. “Someone’s happy to see me,” he laughs as he guides you.

He soaks a warm washcloth to gently clear your face of any sweat, because he knows you’d complain about not washing your face before bed. He grabs your toothbrush, slotted in its usual place with his, and opens the seams of your mouth to brush each tooth. You reward him with a frothy, toothpaste-glazed grin. When he’s done, he wipes his thumb across your mouth and plants a chaste peck at the corner of your lips.

Soft Boyfriend! Jason Todd, who is indifferent to birthdays and most holidays, but will relish every opportunity to celebrate them with you. Your birthday is coded into his internal index of important information, secretly circled in red marker on the calendar that hangs on his wall. Even cheesy Hallmark holidays like Valentine's Day have an unprecedented, looming gravity for him.

Your apartment is filled with mementos and gifts he's given you. A shitty birthday card, the ones with corny jokes that play music when you open them, because he knows you find them fun. Ivies and succulents planted on your windowsill, pots with blooming perennials, or the occasional vases with roses. Poloraids time-stamped and named with every place he's taken you, ranging from local diners and restaurants to planned trips on the salt-air coast. Never materialistic but always sentimental and intentional.

Soft Boyfriend! Jason Todd, who is a terrible flirt. His attempts to coax a blush from you range from tooth-rottingly sweet compliments to cheesy, overused pick-up lines. He'll ask you, "Are you made of angel dust? You look heavenly." Or, you’ll be kissing him goodbye on your way to work, while his large frame eases through the doorway, a cheeky smile plastered on his lips as he sighs, “I hate to see you leave, but I love watching you go.” You roll your eyes as you turn back at his very self-satisfied expression.

Soft Boyfriend! Jason Todd, who never officially asks you to move in. After all, it would be presumptuous of him to assume you’re as ready as he is to handle the reins of domesticity. Instead, every visit brings a mounting assortment of items: an extra toothbrush at his place and one at yours; his well-loved shampoo and soaps in your shower; his favorite mugs now lining your cabinet. So it isn't until you wake up one morning, his head nuzzled into your neck and spooning you for the sixth time this week, that you decide to ask. “Jay, why don’t we just get our own place?”

His sea-colored eyes flutter open, lashes tickling your jaw, and you feel his smile through the nape of your neck. And without hesitation, as if he was waiting for the question, he responds, "I think that's a really good idea."

a/n: this is unofficially dedicated to the sweet anon who was interested in a part two. it sort of turned into pure domestic fluff lol. hopefully, this cures me of my terrible writer's block.

[eunoianss]

Haiii, how is your day going ?

it’s going okay thank u for asking !!! i’ve been so busy with work and i’ve been decluttering and reorganizing my room !! hope your day is going good 💖💖💖