BFB (j.t.)
Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader
Warnings: Descriptions of fire, burns and shoulder dislocation
Word Count: 7.5k
Summary: Jason doesn’t want to be seen as your best friend’s brother anymore. Jason Todd yearns for 7k words
A/N: Again I feel like this played out better in my head honestly but oh well, it is what it is
10 years ago Jason Todd aged 14 (Y/N) (L/N) aged 16
The sound of thundering feet down the hallway was a common sound ever since the Wayne household had welcomed a new child. You, nor your best friend Dick, were the slightest bit disturbed when Jason slammed open the door to the family room and stormed in.
"You ate my Cheetos!" He cried to his older brother, ruddy face screwed up like he had just eaten a sour grape.
You chuckled under your breath, looking back down at your book that rested against Dick's legs that had been thrown in your lap. Jason glared at the offensive limbs like they were a parasite.
"Sorry, baby bird. (Y/N) here really wanted some Cheetos." Dick replied, hands gross and covered in orange dust. You scoffed, smacking his knee and he gave you an impish grin while looking over his phone.
Jason paused, his face reddening as he caught a glance at you. You offered him a lopsided smile, effortlessly covering for his pig of a brother.
“Sorry, Jace, I was hungry.”
He looked down, bashfully playing with the hem of his sweater, "It's okay."
You smacked his brother again when you felt his body shake with thinly veiled laughter. He had no problem abusing the knowledge that his younger brother had a childish crush on you. The poor thing had already lost most of his snack stash because of him.
"Thanks, kiddo."
Jason shot you a dirty look, “Don’t call me a kid. We’re not that far apart in age, you know.”
You raised a brow, “You’re a freshman, and I’m a senior.”
“That’s just because I joined a year late!” He argued, indignant.
Holding up your hands in a mock ‘I surrender’ motion, you glanced back at your book, but not before shooting a final warning look at his older brother.
“Whatever you say, kiddo.”
***
Present Day Jason Todd aged 24 (Y/N) (L/N) aged 26
"Sorry, B. I can't make it tomorrow, I promised (Y/N) that I'd help her build some furniture."
Jason perked up, practically shooting up straight at the sound of your name, "(Y/N)? She still around? What's she up to these days?"
He hoped—prayed—that his voice didn’t sound as elated to them as it did to him.
The two of you had lost touch after you graduated high school. Dick had moved to Blüdhaven, and you’d been accepted to university in Central City. Without your best friend in Gotham, there hadn’t been much reason for you to visit Wayne Manor.
It had stung. Jason knew you’d always had a closer relationship with his older brother, but he’d thought—hoped—that you liked him enough to at least give him a call on the odd weekend.
He’d get the occasional holiday text from you, wishing him well, and sometimes he’d text you for advice about school. But that was it.
When Jason had come back from the Lazarus Pit, he’d spent countless nights wondering what had happened to you. You would’ve been twenty-six by then. He imagined you’d graduated grad school and become a scientist, probably living in a cute apartment you’d been so excited to decorate—walls lined with bookshelves, couches draped in cozy throws you’d thrifted or maybe even crocheted yourself.
He wondered if you’d grown any taller, if you still dressed like a tomboy, or if you’d traded that style for something softer, something different. He wondered if you’d finally gotten a cat, since you’d wanted one so badly growing up.
But things between him and Batman were still tense, there was still a lot of hurt left on his part, a lot of stuff to work through. He wasn't good enough for you before; he was too young, too brash, too immature.
Now, he was too broken, too damaged; still not worthy of you.
So, he was left wondering.
"Yeah...she's back in the city, she's been working as a junior researcher in Gotham S.T.A.R. Labs."
Jason nodded, nonchalantly, looking down at the home screen of his phone like there was something interesting that happened to capture his attention, "Oh, that's good."
Dick raised a brow, clearly catching onto Jason's very poor attempts to appear unbothered, "And she still thinks you're dead."
He didn't need to see his younger brother's face to know he had frozen. That was quite obvious with the way his shoulders jumped til his ears and he rolled his eyes.
Honestly, how did loverboy manage to overlook that incredibly giant detail?
***
It had been a quiet evening. You were sitting on the couch, curled up with a book in hand and a cup of tea resting beside you, the hum of the city filtering in from the window. You had made peace with Jason's death years ago—taught yourself to move forward, or at least to pretend. The world had kept turning, and so had you.
Your phone buzzed, breaking the silence. It was from Dick.
[1 New Message from Dick]: We need to talk. I’m coming over.
Your heart dropped. You’d known Dick long enough to recognize when something was wrong. His texts were almost always direct or lighthearted, but this—this was different. The sudden dread sinking into your stomach left you feeling nauseous, your pulse quickening.
[You]: What’s going on?
No reply came immediately, making the sick feeling grow. The silence was worse than the text itself. Something was wrong. Your thoughts spun in circles, dread clouding your mind.
The last time you felt like this was when Jason—
There was a knock at the door. You hesitated before opening it, half-expecting the worst.
Dick stood in the doorway, looking disheveled. His eyes were wide, a mix of exhaustion and something darker etched into his features. His foot scuffed the carpet as he stepped inside, pacing immediately, his socks leaving smudges behind on your rug.
You bit your lip, unsure of how to address the storm brewing within him, but you couldn’t find the heart to scold him. He looked too rattled.
"Take a breath, Dickie. Whatever it is, you can tell me." You said softly, trying to soothe him as he walked back and forth.
It wasn’t until a few minutes of pacing that he stopped, shoulders hunched and face tense. He finally turned to you, locking eyes as if bracing himself, "Jason’s alive."
Your breath caught in your throat, but you didn’t let the shock show. You stayed eerily calm. You had learned long ago how to keep your composure, especially with Dick, who was always more emotional in moments like this.
"Sit down. Let me make us some tea. You can stay here tonight." You stood, walking to the kitchen, trying to create a sense of normalcy, "We’ll talk about this in the morning, okay? Everything will make sense once you get some rest."
Dick stared at you, disbelief clear in his eyes, "What? That's your response?"
You kept your back turned to him, calmly preparing the kettle. "Honey," You called back, voice low and steady, "this isn’t the first time you’ve said you’ve seen Jason. Remember?" You turned to face him, eyebrows furrowed in concern. You couldn’t help it; this wasn’t the first time Dick had experienced hallucinations. When Jason died, Dick’s grief had twisted his mind in ways you knew all too well.
"No, (Y/N), I’m being serious. This is real," Dick said, his voice firm, steady.
You rubbed his shoulder gently, trying to soothe him, though you could feel the tension in his body. "I’m sure it feels that way," you replied, not fully buying into what he was saying. You had seen him go through so much grief, and the idea of Jason being alive, after everything that had happened, felt like an impossible fantasy.
"No, (Y/N), I’m serious. We can dig up his grave right now. He’s alive, and he’s here." Dick continued, his tone unwavering. He was no longer the conflicted man you had known during the years of Jason’s death. This wasn’t a joke or another hallucination. Dick was calm, composed, and absolutely certain of what he was saying.
You frowned, the disbelief still hanging in the air, "That isn’t funny, Dick."
He sighed, "You're right, I'm sorry but Jason really is back. I’ve seen him. He’s part of the family again. We’ve all met him, and he’s doing okay. I know it sounds crazy, but he’s here. And he’s with us."
The words hung in the air, your mind racing to catch up with the gravity of what Dick was saying.
“How—how is that even possible?” You asked, your voice trembling slightly as your mind struggled to make sense of the words.
“It’s a long story,” Dick replied with a quiet sigh. He looked at you seriously, “Listen, I just wanted to let you know this way because I care about you. He asked about you recently, so I figured it would be a good time to let you know.”
You frowned, trying to absorb the flood of emotions and information that seemed to hit you all at once, “How long have you known?”
“A couple of months,” Dick said, his tone more subdued now, “He wasn’t too happy with us when he first came back... not when he found out the Joker was still alive.”
Your stomach tightened, a knot of unease twisting in your gut. You had seen firsthand the kind of damage the Joker and the events surrounding Jason’s death had done to the family. You could never forget the way it had all shattered Dick, how broken he was in the aftermath.
"But we've made amends in the past month. He’s back where he belongs."
You nodded slowly, trying to process the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you, “And you're for sure not hallucinating this?"
Dick gave you a sharp look, “I can’t blame you for wondering, but no. This is real. You can meet him, if you want.”
Your throat tightened. You wanted to say yes. You wanted to see Jason. But the overwhelming weight of everything—the shock, the grief that you had buried long ago, and the strange sense of unfamiliarity now attached to his return—left you struggling for words. Was he still the same person you knew? “I do want to… I just… I need some time. I think I need to wrap my head around this. It’s not every day that you find out someone came back to life.”
Truthfully, Jason’s death hadn’t affected your daily life as much as you expected. After moving for college, you didn’t see him much, and the memories of him didn’t cross your mind as often as they once had. Yes, in the months following his death, you’d had to take care of Dick—making sure he wasn’t running himself into the ground—but that had always been your role as his best friend.
But there was something about Jason that left a lingering hole in your life. Something unexpected. Jason had been such a bright, sweet soul—too young, too full of life. You'd imagined your future in Gotham, with your parents, and your best friend, and in that little corner, Jason’s glowing face would always be there. You couldn't picture him growing taller than you, still that fresh-faced sweet boy from the Narrows. Always there.
And then he wasn’t. And that absence—it left a space you hadn’t expected to feel.
The loss had settled in quietly, like a low hum beneath everything you did. There were nights where it kept you awake, wondering how scared he must have been in his final moments, wondering if he had known he was being taken from this world far too soon. The fact that he was gone had been a sharp, permanent reality, one you had learned to live with—but now, knowing that he was back... it was almost too much to take in.
Dick nodded, his expression softening, “I know. It’s a lot. But he’s here, and he’s trying to make things right. Just let me know when you’re ready.”
***
A lot had changed.
The last time you saw him, he was shorter than you, all sharp edges and boyish energy, always talking too fast and trying to keep up with Dick. Now he was taller, broader, a man where a boy used to be. The once roundness of his face had sharpened into defined angles, his voice deeper than you remembered.
And his eyes—God, his eyes.
There was something older in them now, something jaded and unspoken. You had heard the stories, whispered half-truths that nobody wanted to confirm. You had no idea how much of it was real, but the Jason Todd standing in front of you was not the same boy you remembered.
Still, none of that stopped you from grinning as you stepped forward.
"Jaybird!"
His breath hitched.
You didn’t notice.
You threw your arms around his neck, the way you used to when he was a kid, laughing as you pulled him into a tight hug. You didn't know whether he hugged you back, you couldn't really feel it, only feeling pins and needles run down the length of your body.
You didn’t really care if he hugged you back. All you felt was awe and bewilderment, and underneath it all, sheer and utter joy at the fact that he was here.
"Damn," You laughed, pulling away just enough to hold him at arm’s length, "When did you get so tall? And jacked? Holy crap, Jay, you could bench press me."
Jason let out something between a scoff and a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck, "Maybe I should, just to prove a point."
"Please don’t. That’s so undignified." You poked at his bicep, grinning but there was a mist to your eyes that neither of you were going to address, a red tint to the tip of your nose, "My scrawny little brother, all grown up and scary-looking."
His smile twitched. Something flickered in his expression—too quick for you to catch—before he shook his head, rolling his eyes, "You’re impossible."
"As always," You smirked, nudging his ribs playfully before stepping back, "It’s so good to see you, Jason. I mean it."
You didn’t notice the way he swallowed hard. Didn’t see the way his fingers twitched at his sides, like he wanted to pull you back before you got too far away.
Instead, you shot him a bright smile, completely oblivious to the way his heart ached.
You still saw him as that kid trailing after Dick. The reckless, stubborn little brother. Ten years, and he was still trailing after you like a lost puppy. Still, longing for your attention.
Jason clenched his jaw, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he exhaled slowly.
"Yeah," he muttered, voice softer now. "Good to see you too, (Y/N)."
***
Even though you should have been the one to notice the big, burly man stepping into the dainty little coffee shop, you didn’t.
Jason did.
He spotted you first—tucked away in the corner, bathed in golden sunlight as you read, a delicate hand curled around a warm cup of tea. You looked so peaceful, completely unaware of him. Maybe you had caught a glimpse of him in your peripheral, but it hadn’t registered. After all, it hadn’t been that long since you’d seen him again.
He almost hesitated.
He almost continued his visit like he hadn’t even noticed you, but despite everything he’d been through—despite the fact that he was a grown man now—he still found himself feeling like his teenage self, craving your attention whenever you were in the room.
"(Y/N)?"
Your head snapped up, eyes darting around to locate the voice—until they landed on him.
The way your expression changed made his heart stutter.
First, confusion. Then, slow realization. And finally—joy.
A sunny grin broke across your face before you could stop it. Without a second thought, you launched yourself at him, tackling him in a hug that had nearby patrons stepping aside awkwardly.
"Jason!"
He stumbled back a few steps, caught entirely off guard. His arms hovered uncertainly over your waist, but before he could settle them on your hips, you pulled away just as quickly—smoothing out his jacket as if brushing off imaginary dust before cupping his face, taking in his utterly bewildered expression.
That same expression that his younger self shared. It made your heart swell.
You were like a hurricane blowing through him.
He knew you were extroverted and energetic—he had seen it in your expressions and interactions with his brother while growing up. But this was the first time your affection had ever been directed at him.
"Sorry! Haha! I'm still not used to seeing you alive and all—guess I got too excited!" You laughed, a little breathless, your thumbs brushing lightly over his cheekbones, "How are you? Do you wanna sit down and catch up?"
Jason blinked, something unreadable flickering across his face before the corner of his mouth twitched up.
"Yeah," he said, voice softer than you expected, "Yeah, I’d like that."
And before he knew it, he was in the eye of the storm, caught in the calm, in you.
***
Jason leaned against his motorcycle, arms crossed, watching the entrance of your workplace with a kind of nervous energy he hadn’t felt in years. He had sent the invite on a whim—just a casual “Hey, it’s been a while. Wanna grab a coffee?”—but now that he was actually here, waiting, he was starting to regret it.
The automatic doors of the laboratory building slid open, and there you were, stepping out onto the sidewalk, scanning the street.
Jason felt like he’d been punched in the chest.
He swallowed hard.
“Jaybird,” You greeted, pulling him into a tight hug, “Been a while.”
Jason let himself sink into it for half a second before forcing himself to let go, “Yeah, well. You’re hard to pin down these days.”
You rolled your eyes, “Oh, please. You’re the one always disappearing. You’re worse than Dick.”
Jason smirked, “Low blow.”
You looped an arm around his, tugging him toward the sidewalk, “C’mon, walk with me. I wanna hear what you’ve been up to.”
He let himself be pulled along, shaking his head, “What I’ve been up to? You’re the one always buried in the lab.”
You groaned, “Don’t remind me. I swear, one of these days, I’m just gonna quit and run away to a beach somewhere.”
Jason laughed, nudging your shoulder, “Yeah? You’d last, what, a week before you got bored?”
You pouted, “Okay, rude. But true.”
He watched you talk, listened to you ramble about work, about a bad coffee you’d had the other day, about a stray cat that kept showing up outside your apartment. He nodded in the right places, chimed in with sarcastic comments, but mostly, he just took in the way you looked at him.
The way you looked at him like nothing had changed.
Like he was still the same Jason you’d always known.
Like you had no idea how much he wasn’t.
You sighed, bumping into his side, “I missed you, y’know?”
His heart fluttered, a jolt of electricity running through it in a way that made him feel giddy, “You did?”
“Yeah, of course. It’s so great that we can just pick up where we left off, no awkwardness or anything. I guess that’s the good thing about family, huh?”
He froze for a fraction of a second at the word family. It took everything in him not to flinch. He forced a smile, trying to keep his cool.
“Yeah... I guess that’s the good thing, huh?” He pushed the words out, though they tasted bitter on his tongue.
You glanced up at him, offering a grin that made his heart ache. “Exactly.” You said, as if that word was enough to sum up everything. No hesitation, no second thoughts. Just family.
Jason walked beside you, his hands in his jacket pockets, fingers curling into fists. The sharp edge of his feelings threatened to spill over, but he kept them at bay. He wasn’t going to ruin this. Not when he finally had a chance to talk to you again after so long.
You kept chatting, unaware of the quiet storm brewing inside him. You told him about a new research project you were working on and your latest failed attempt at cooking. His responses were automatic—smiles, laughs, and the occasional comment—but his mind was elsewhere, caught in the web of thoughts he couldn’t untangle.
It was so easy for you to slip back into the role of the confident, carefree person you always were around him. And here he was, still stuck in the same old cycle of longing. Family. That was all he would ever be to you. Just family.
But what if it wasn’t enough anymore?
As you continued to walk, your voice light and carefree, Jason couldn’t help but wonder if he would ever get the courage to tell you how he felt. Would it even change anything? Or would it ruin everything, forever locking him into the “family” role he had never wanted to begin with?
You bumped into him again, snapping him out of his thoughts, “Hey, Jay, I’ve been thinking—I do these little arcade runs with Timmy and Dami once a month, you know, like a brotherly-sisterly bonding activity.”
Jason’s chest tightened. He knew. You, Dick, and he used to do that all the time ten years ago. It left a bittersweet feeling in his chest.
“You should join us sometime. You know, like old times.”
He smiled, the kind of smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, that sounds great.”
***
When Jason saw the amber-orange glow of the building from afar, his heart dropped. Without hesitation, he signaled the remaining members of the Bat Family before sprinting toward it. He didn’t like the path he was taking. He didn’t like where it was leading.
It almost seemed like he was heading toward—
No.
Jason came face to face with the burning S.T.A.R. Labs building.
Even through his fireproof armor, he could feel the searing heat radiating from the inferno. He watched as waves of people poured out, coughing, screaming, their faces twisted in pain and panic. His eyes scanned over them, searching.
None of them were you.
Without a second thought, he moved toward the building.
His comms buzzed to life.
"Red Hood, do not engage! You don’t have a plan!" Batman’s voice was firm, commanding.
"(Y/N) is in there!" Jason snapped, his tone leaving no room for argument. Then, he braved the flames.
He pushed through the burning hallways, doing whatever he could to help those in his path—clearing exits, carrying the wounded—until he reached the deeper levels of the lab. His lungs burned with the smoke, but he kept moving.
And then he heard it.
A bloodcurdling shriek.
Your shriek.
Jason sprinted toward the sound, shoving open what remained of your office door. The sight that greeted him made his stomach lurch—
You were trapped beneath a flaming bookshelf.
Soot covered your skin, your body trembling as you fought to free yourself. Your clothes were scorched, and judging by the way you were barely moving, you had sustained multiple burns. Panic filled your eyes.
Jason didn’t hesitate.
He threw the bookshelf off you, scooping you into his arms and holding you close as he ran out. You couldn’t think straight. The blinding pain in your shoulder overtook every other thought.
"You're gonna be okay. I'm gonna reset your shoulder." Jason murmured. The deep baritone of his gravelly voice had your panic subsiding by a fraction. He didn't sound worried, which meant you were going to be fine. Probably.
"Are you sure you know how to do that?" You really shouldn't have to ask that. Jason would never suggest it if he thought he might do more harm than good. You trusted him.
"Yeah, I've got you, baby. Trust me."
You inhaled sharply, pressing your bloody forehead to his and screwing your eyes shut. Jason watched as a fresh wave of tears poured down your cheeks and his stomach hollowed out at the sight of you in pain. You were trembling, chest shaking as you tried to contain your sobs.
"I do."
He rubbed a hand up and down your waist, trying to comfort you briefly before he grabbed your injured arm with both his hands. You took a shaky breath, trying to stifle another sob.
“You might want to hold onto something, doll—holy sh—!”
He was rudely cut off as your free hand grabbed a fistful of his hair, keeping his forehead pressed against yours—your only source of comfort.
In hindsight, you weren’t sure what logic had driven you to grab his hair. Perhaps you wanted him to feel as much pain as you were in—or as much pain as you knew he was about to put you through. Or maybe you just wanted to anchor him to you, to keep him close so you could draw comfort from his presence.
"Ready?"
You weren’t ready—but you sniffled and nodded anyway, hearing him count down from three. The next thing you heard was a crack, followed by the sound of your own scream as you clung to Jason’s hair, gripping so tightly you were afraid you’d tear out those perfect strands.
Jason pressed gentle kisses to the side of your head as you sobbed, his voice low and soothing. He told you how proud he was, that it was all over now, as he worked quickly to tie a tourniquet.
When everything was done, you collapsed against his chest, going limp in his arms as he carried you out of the building. You were handed off to a paramedic and gently placed on a gurney.
With bleary eyes, you watched him run back into the building, your consciousness slipping away before you could call out to stop him.
***
The steady beeping of the monitors was the first thing you heard when you groggily blinked awake. The second thing was the sound of someone muttering under their breath, followed by the unmistakable rustling of fabric.
You turned your head—slowly, because everything hurt—and found Jason slumped in the chair beside your bed, arms crossed, looking deeply unimpressed. His jacket was draped over the armrest, his boots scuffed, the soles stained with char.
“Hey, doll.” Jason greeted, his voice softer than usual.
You gave him a sleepy smile, “Hey, hero.”
He looked… tired. The kind of tired that wasn’t just from lack of sleep, but from worry. His hair was messier than usual, like he’d been running his hands through it all night. His jacket still smelled faintly of smoke.
“How long have you been here?” You asked.
Jason shrugged, leaning forward so his forearms rested on the bedrail, "Not long." But you both knew he was lying.
Your heart clenched, warmth curling in your chest, “You didn’t have to stay.”
Jason’s gaze flicked to yours, unreadable for a moment, “Yeah, I did.”
Your breath caught slightly. He didn’t elaborate—he didn’t need to.
You swallowed, looking down at where your hand rested against the blanket. You hesitated, then shifted it slightly, palm up, an invitation. Jason hesitated too, just for a second, before lacing his fingers with yours.
His grip was warm, steady. He didn’t squeeze too tight, mindful of your injuries, but he didn’t let go, either.
There was something unspoken between the two of you, something different now. Neither of you could quite place it—maybe it was the quiet familiarity of being here together, or maybe it was the way his hand fit into yours, a little more firmly than before. But you both knew something had shifted. It hung in the air, thick and heavy, but neither of you dared to speak of it.
“You scared the hell outta me,” He admitted, voice rougher now, quieter.
“I’m okay.” You squeezed his hand, reassuring, “Thanks to you.”
Jason scoffed, but there was no bite to it, “Yeah, no thanks to your dumbass trying to save your research instead of yourself. Next time, leave the dangerous work to the big boys?”
You rolled your eyes, clearing your throat, “Next time, try not making me scream so hard when you reset my shoulder. I think I burst a blood vessel.”
Jason smirked, rubbing his thumb absently over your knuckles, “I can make you scream plenty other ways, baby.”
Your scoffed at this, rolling your eyes but choosing not to respond. Stupid bastard, pretending like he was all suave when you both knew underneath it all, Jason Todd was an unapologetic romantic.
You let your fingers tighten around his, anchoring yourself to the warmth of him.
Jason squeezed back, like he understood.
“Get some rest." He murmured, shifting slightly so his arm rested on the mattress, keeping your hands tangled together, “I’ll be here.”
You sighed softly, your body finally relaxing, “Promise?”
Jason leaned forward, pressing a lingering kiss to the back of your hand, “Promise.”
***
Jason climbed through your window with practiced ease and you didn't even flinch as he let himself in, still in his Red Hood get-up. This wasn't the first time he was doing this, nor would it be his last. It had been this way ever since you had been escorted back by him from the hospital.
Jason checked up on you almost every day, making sure you were dressing your burns properly, even redressing the ones on your back. On those nights, when you felt incredibly vulnerable, you knew there was no one you’d feel safer with than Jason.
You merely glanced at him from your spot behind the counter, continuing to slice the cucumber using the mandolin.
The fearsome Red Hood found his way into your kitchen, nudging you out of the way and washing his hands. He ignored your protests, grabbing the mandolin from you and snatching the cucumber, "This thing's sharp."
You rolled your eyes, "I was being careful."
He didn't even take off his domino, only tossing his helmet onto your couch in his rush to help you, "I didn't think you knew how."
You scoffed at this, lightly slapping his shoulder even though you were well aware that you could've put more strength into it and he still would've felt nothing, "Go shower while I heat up dinner you loser."
He laughed, stepping aside and letting you grab the freshly sliced cucumber so you could add the spices to make cucumber salad. He pecked your temple, grabbing the towel you had left warming for him in the dryer before stepping into the shower and washing the grime of Gotham away.
When he emerged from the shower, dressed in the sweats he had left there, you caught a glimpse of his bare chest. Letting out a flustered laugh, you quickly averted your gaze.
“Oh my god, put on a shirt!”
Jason just cackled, completely unbothered, as he rummaged through your dresser drawer. He disappeared for a moment, only to reappear in the kitchen after tossing his wet towel in the washer.
This time, when you looked at him, the laugh that escaped was less flustered and more outright incredulous.
“What on earth are you wearing?”
A baby tee on you was cute—it rode up just enough to show a teasing sliver of skin, something that Jason always found distracting. But on him? It was absolutely ridiculous.
The fabric strained around his biceps like it was fighting for its life, and you were genuinely concerned that if he flexed even a little, the sleeves would burst apart. The hem barely covered his pecs, leaving his abs completely on display. And across his chest, in bold letters, were the words:
“I’m sorry I have great tits.”
You covered your mouth, shaking with laughter, "Of all the shirts I have."
“And? Is it wrong to own my truth?”
You groaned, throwing a dish towel at his face while still giggling, “Take it off.”
“Make me.”
***
When Jason woke up to the sound of you bustling around his apartment, he sat up in bed, hair mussed, and found you rifling through his closet. You held up a formal button-up shirt, tapping your chin in consideration.
He watched you, still groggy, taking in your figure dressed in one of his t-shirts and a pair of boxer shorts. You’d stopped by after dinner last night and ended up crashing on his couch, not even stirring when he carried you to bed.
Jason glanced at the clock, “Don’t you— I don’t know— have a job to get to?”
You spared him a glance over your shoulder, “Oh, you’re awake. I figured instead of going all the way back to my place, I’d just borrow something of yours and wear the same jeans from yesterday. I’m in the lab today anyway, so it doesn’t really matter what I have on underneath.”
He hummed, stretching his arms over his head with a yawn.
“Left breakfast for you in the microwave, by the way.”
Stepping behind you, he pressed a quick, absentminded kiss to your temple before heading into the bathroom to brush his teeth.
When he emerged, you had swapped the button-up for one of his t-shirts, knotting it in the middle so it wouldn’t look so oversized. He smirked at the sight of you checking yourself out in the mirror, tugging at the hem, making sure it didn’t look odd.
“Looks better on you anyway.” He murmured, leaning against the doorframe.
You rolled your eyes but grinned at him through the mirror, “Yeah, yeah. I bet you say that to all the girls stealing your clothes.”
Jason scoffed, stepping closer, “Oh yeah, all the girls. My closet’s just a free-for-all at this point.”
You laughed, swatting at his chest as he loomed behind you. He caught your wrist with ease, fingers curling lightly around it, his touch warm and familiar.
You pouted up at him, flashing your best pleading puppy-dog eyes. He raised an amused brow.
“Give me a ride to work?”
Jason huffed a laugh, shaking his head as he looked down at you, “You’re really pushing your luck, you know that?”
You grinned, tilting your head slightly, “Come on, Jay. I’ll even let you pick the music.”
He narrowed his eyes, “You always let me pick the music.”
“Yeah, but this time, I won’t complain about your broody, ‘I’m a tortured soul’ playlists.”
Jason scoffed, releasing your wrist only to flick your forehead lightly, “First of all, my playlists are not broody—”
“They absolutely are.” You interrupted, smirking.
He ignored you, “Second, you know I’d drive you anyway. You don’t have to beg.”
You gasped dramatically, placing a hand over your heart, “So you like driving me around? I knew it. You’re secretly my personal chauffeur.”
Jason rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the smirk tugging at his lips, “Yeah, yeah. Go make me a cup of coffee so I don't fall asleep at the wheel while dropping your lazy ass off.”
You saluted him playfully before bouncing toward the kitchen. Jason lingered for a moment, watching you move around his space so effortlessly, so comfortably. It was dangerous, the way you fit into his life so easily. But even as he tried to shake off the thought, he was already reaching for his keys, knowing damn well he’d drive you anywhere you asked.
***
You shut the door to your apartment only after the elevator doors finally closed, ensuring your friend had left. The lights in your home remained off, and darkness enveloped you as you carefully navigated the room, kicking off your heels.
"Who was that?"
You nearly jumped out of your skin, giving yourself whiplash when you swung around to face the intruder in your apartment—only to sigh in relief when you were met by the familiar hunk of a silhouette.
"You scared the hell out of me, Jason." You grumbled, now having to turn on the lights so you could look for where you had dropped your keys in shock.
"Who was that?" He repeated and this time you picked up on something in his tone. Less inquisitive and more interrogative. You arched a brow at him, dumping the keys into the bowl by the door and placing your handbag onto the kitchen island.
"What's with the attitude?"
Even though you continued to bustle about the apartment, you couldn't help but steal glances of his unmoving figure on the couch. He was never like this, he usually helped you out of your coat, ran the shower, something.
His indifference was making you antsy.
"Damian said he saw you out on a date."
That had you stopping midway of unloading your dishwasher, your reflection in the freshly clean dishes staring back at you with an expression of befuddlement.
'Damian saw me on a date? Me? On a date? When? Where? With who?!'
"What are you even talking about, Jason?" You scoffed, slightly off-put by this sudden turn in behavior. You hadn't been on a date since prehistoric times, it felt like. Jason felt the need to break into your apartment (not technically breaking in considering he had a key), sit in the dark and interrogate you in your own home all because of some baseless accusation that Damian of all people made.
"He said he saw you talking it up with some man at town square today and that you got into his car."
Jason finally stood up, walking over to where you stood in the kitchen and your eyes raked over his figure multiple times. Something about this was just wrong; his stiff posture, the frown on his face, the hard eyes.
"I was attending a conference happening there with a co-worker—we drove up there together."
Jason’s eyes scanned your face, and a flicker of offense sparked in your chest. Did he think you were lying? And even if you were—what business was it of his?
"A co-worker, huh?" He said, his voice tight and laced with something sharp, "How come this is the first I'm hearing of this? Lord knows you'd usually beg me to drive you there."
You frowned, "What is up with you? Why does it matter? You're behaving like a jealous boyfriend, and last I checked, we weren't dating."
That was clearly not the right thing to say, judging by the way Jason’s face stoned over—expression cold and unreadable, yet barely concealing the red-hot fury simmering just beneath the surface.
"Excuse me?" He seethed, stepping closer to you. If it had been anyone else, you would've taken a step back. But this was Jason, and you didn't feel any discomfort when he stepped into your bubble.
"You call me when you're down and need someone to talk to. We literally spend every night together to the point I have a drawer in my dresser for your clothes! (Y/N), you've held me on nights when I can't sleep!" He cried, voice tight with frustration, "If that isn't dating, then what the fuck is this? What the fuck are we?"
He stepped closer, crowding into your space until your back hit the refrigerator with a soft thud. His palms pressed flat against the wall on either side of you, caging you in.
"(Y/N)..." He whispered, leaning in closer. He smelled of artificial ocean in a bottle and sharp menthol, a mix that shouldn’t have been so intoxicating. Heat radiated off him, and suddenly, you felt far too warm.
You were so close to throwing away all your inhibitions until that one feeling—heavy and unshakable—anchored your stomach, dragging you back down.
"Stop."
He did.
You felt him sigh against your lips, a hair away from actually meeting his. He shook his head, "I should've known."
He didn’t look at you once, just left his key on the counter and shut the door behind him. Your back remained pinned to the fridge as the sound of his footsteps faded down the hallway, each one echoing in time with your pounding heart.
'Go after him. Stop him. Do something.'
And yet, your feet stayed rooted in place.
***
The next time you imagined seeing Jason, it would be at a family event neither of you could find a way out of. You’d steal a longing glance when his back was turned, spending the rest of the night waiting, hoping, that he'd return your gaze.
You never imagined that the next time you’d see him—talk to him—would be in the back alley behind a noisy club. You hadn’t meant for this to happen—really, you hadn’t.
You’d just gotten off a particularly rough shift, and even though all you wanted was to crawl into the quiet of your room and call Jason just to hear his voice, instead, a coworker had convinced you to blow off some steam and grab a drink.
You hadn't expected to see Jason there—especially not with another girl.
“When I said stop, I didn’t mean stop forever and get over me!” You cried out, frustration and overwhelming emotion cracking through your voice. Seeing him with Artemis had unleashed an arsenal of feelings you couldn’t even begin to sort through, and before you knew it, you were picking a fight with him—desperate for his attention to be back on you instead of her.
You were envious of her strong build and long, lustrous hair. You were angry with yourself for resenting her, even though she’d done absolutely nothing wrong. You were hurt because it looked like Jason was having a good time. And most of all, you were confused—why did it upset you so much?
“Would you rather I stay as your little plaything forever? Stringing me along just enough to keep me loving you, hoping for more, only to push me away with some bullshit excuse?”
His face darkened, and your stomach hollowed out. Jason had been frustrated with you many times before; you’d argued until he was red in the face. But he’d never looked at you like this—like he hated you.
You bit your lip, the fight seeping out of you. Because at the end of the day… he was right, wasn’t he? You had been playing with him—stringing him along, showing him glimpses of the most intimate corners of your life, but still expecting him to magically know where you’d drawn the invisible lines of unspoken boundaries.
His jaw hardened, and you dropped your gaze. Jason didn’t deserve this. Inside the club was a beautiful, strong woman who he had every right to show interest in. And you had no right to be upset about it.
“You’re right, Jason. I—I’m sorry for ruining your date. You should get back in there before she thinks you stood her up.”
With your hands pressed to your chest to stop yourself from reaching out for him, you sidestepped his domineering presence and turned to walk away.
“Are you fucking kidding me? That’s it?”
You froze. Turning back, you found him ruffling his hair in frustration, annoyance radiating off him in waves as he stalked closer, stopping just a couple of feet away.
“You don’t get to fucking do that! You don’t get to tell me to stop, then get mad at me for actually doing what you asked. You don’t get to make a scene and not even tell me why!”
That was it.
You closed the distance between you two, clutching the collar of his jacket with trembling fists and yanking him down to you, slanting your lips against his in a rough, desperate kiss.
“That’s why,” You whispered, lowering yourself back onto your heels and letting go of his jacket as you turned to leave—
“Oh no, you’re not.”
Jason’s arm coiled around your hips, pulling you back against him as he crushed his lips to yours once more. You sighed against him, your fingers twisting into his hair, your other hand slipping under his jacket, fisting the fabric of his shirt.
It was everything you had spent months pretending you didn’t want.
And you couldn’t stop.
***
Bonus:
"Hi, honey." You said, voice sweet and saccharine, as you entered the dining room of the manor.
"Hi, pookie." Dick replied, not looking up from his phone, lounging on the couch.
There was a pause, followed by an exaggerated noise of disgust from you, "I could not have been more clearly speaking to my boyfriend." You teased, your tone playful but pointed.
This time, Dick looked up from his phone, raising an eyebrow. His expression shifted from confusion to realization as he saw you standing with your hands wrapped around Jason's neck, very clearly leaning in for a kiss to greet him instead.
"Oh, for god's sake." Dick groaned, rolling his eyes, "Ugh, you both are disgusting. You know I used to be her honey?"
Jason raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips, "Get used to it, geezer," he quipped, draping an arm around your shoulder and pecking your temple, "She likes younger men."
***
Forever Taglist:
@simonsbluee
@notslaybabes
@superheroesaremyjam113263
@writers-whirlwind
DC Taglist:
@tchatso
@p--e--a--c--h--e--s
@sometimeseverythingsucks
@sokkas-honour
@unstable1902
@lostgirlheart
@missdisapear
@tadpole-san
@isawachickeninatree
@uxavity
@battlenix
@capricorn-stark
@evermoore580
@dumbbitchgalore
@fuckingjinkies
@some-lovely-day
@that-one-fangirl69
@el-hrts
Requested tags:
@theendofthematerialgworl
@itzmeme
@catharticdesire
@joonunivrs
@mercuryathens
