[gothamsdoll]

ㅤ

⌒ㅤ꒰ ◌ ◞ ◟ ꒱ maisie ◞ 25 ⬭ she ﾉ it ﾉ doll ❤︎

♡ nonsharing toji & jason riako: doubles, pls dni or hardblock .ᐟ

trying to get back into writing for my comfort characters ᡴꪫ

feel free to send me asks, but i do not take requests at the moment .ᐟ

dividers © honeyluvsw and suupersonic 𐂯

[yourfavoritehorseman]

Currently thinking about Jason Todd who needs that reassurance but doesn't know how to ask for it. Instead, he lays his head on your chest and hums softly while you run your hands through his hair. He holds you that way for hours, like he's trying to convince himself you aren't going to disappear.

[jellyfishsthings]

Bat Watch

navigation , dc navigation

requests are open

dividers by @cafekitsune

Jason Todd had survived a lot of things.

Death. Resurrection. The Lazarus Pit. His complicated relationship with Bruce. Even his brothers' constant teasing.

But he was not prepared for his girlfriend's obsession with unmasking the Bat-family. But thankfully, he was Jason Haywood to you ... at least for the time being. He had taken his mother's last name because Jason Todd was supposed to be dead. Maybe he was, and Jason Haywood was going to be his new self.

"Jason! JASON!" You burst into his apartment, laptop precariously balanced on a stack of papers, eyes wild with excitement.

He looked up from cleaning his guns—civilian guns, he'd learned to hide the Red Hood arsenal very carefully. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"I'm better than okay. I'm enlightened." You dropped everything on his coffee table. "I found it. The forum. The holy grail of Bat-family theories."

Oh no.

"Babe, aren't you supposed to be working on that project you were telling me about?"

"This is more important than work!" You were already pulling up browser tabs. "Look at this analysis of Red Hood's fighting style. Someone broke down footage from twenty-three different encounters and identified at least four different martial arts disciplines."

Jason leaned over, his stomach sinking as he recognized his own moves being analyzed frame by frame.

"That's... detailed."

"It's BRILLIANT. Look—they've identified League of Assassins techniques mixed with street fighting and military combat training." You scrolled enthusiastically. "Whoever Red Hood is, he's had seriously diverse training. This isn't just some guy who took a few self-defense classes."

"Maybe he's just naturally talented."

"Nobody's that naturally talented. This is years of training. Probably decades." Your eyes were shining with that particular intensity that Jason both loved and was now deeply concerned about. "And look at this thread about his weapons. Custom-made, military-grade, but with modifications that suggest personal fabrication. Someone with serious resources and technical knowledge."

"Lots of criminals have resources."

"But Red Hood isn't just a criminal. He has a code. He protects Crime Alley. He kills traffickers and abusers but leaves street-level dealers alone." You looked at him seriously. "He's not a villain, Jason. He's something else."

Jason's chest did something complicated. You got it. You understood what he was trying to do, even if you didn't know you were talking about him.

"What do you think he is?" he asked carefully.

"I think he's someone who fell through the cracks. Someone the system failed. Someone who decided that if Batman won't do what needs to be done, he will." You pulled up more notes. "There's a whole theory that he used to be a Robin."

Jason choked on his coffee. "What?"

"I know, it sounds wild, but look at this evidence—Red Hood knows Batman's tactics intimately. He fights like someone trained by Batman. And there's this gap in Robin appearances, right after the second Robin disappeared." You were pulling up timelines now. "What if the second Robin died, and Red Hood is someone connected to that? Someone who blames Batman for the death?"

You'd just described his entire origin story.

"That's a pretty dark theory," Jason managed.

"This is Gotham. Everything's dark." You zoomed in on a photo. "Plus, look at this. Red Hood is tall, broad-shouldered, probably mid-twenties. The second Robin would be that age now if he'd survived."

"The second Robin is dead."

"Is he though? In Gotham, death is more of a suggestion than a permanent state." You were completely serious. "We have a guy who came back from the dead running around in a bat costume. Why couldn't Robin?"

Because Robin did come back. He was sitting right next to you. Trying not to have a panic attack.

"You've really thought about this," Jason said.

"I've made spreadsheets. Color-coded spreadsheets." You smiled sheepishly. "I know it's a lot, but Jason, this is fascinating. These are real people with real stories, and nobody knows who they are."

"Maybe they want it that way."

"Maybe. But don't you want to know?" You grabbed his arm excitedly. "Actually, that gives me an idea."

"What idea?"

"We should do a stakeout!"

"A what?"

"A stakeout! A Bat-watch!" You were already pulling up maps of Crime Alley. "Red Hood patrols this area almost every night. If we stake out the right location, we might see him. Maybe even talk to him!"

"Talk to him? Babe, he's armed and dangerous—"

"He doesn't hurt innocent people. The statistics back that up." You pulled up a spreadsheet—of course you had a spreadsheet. "Zero civilian casualties in two years of operation. He's careful. Controlled."

"He's still a crime lord."

"A crime lord who's cleaned up Crime Alley more than Batman ever did." You looked at him with those puppy-dog eyes that Jason could never resist. "Please? Just one stakeout. I promise we'll be safe."

Jason should say no. Should absolutely not take his girlfriend on a stakeout to find himself.

"One stakeout," he heard himself say. "But if it's dangerous, we leave immediately. And you stay behind me at all times."

"Yes! Oh my god, this is going to be amazing!" You kissed him quickly. "I need to prepare. Make a list of high-probability locations, times when Red Hood is most active, questions to ask if we see him—"

"Questions?"

"Well, yeah! If we're going to see him, I want to understand his motivation. His perspective." You were already typing. "Like, does he see himself as a hero or a villain? Does he regret killing people? What happened to make him this way?"

Jason's throat felt tight. "Those are pretty personal questions."

"I know. But someone has to ask them. Everyone just assumes he's a monster, but what if he's not? What if he's just trying to protect people the only way he knows how?"

Jason looked at you—at your earnest expression, your genuine curiosity, your complete lack of judgment—and felt something crack in his chest.

You understood. Without knowing him, without knowing his story, you understood what he was trying to do.

"Yeah," he said quietly. "What if."

Two days later, Jason showed up at your apartment to find your wall covered in cork board, photos, string, and sticky notes.

"Who is that?" He pointed at a photo from his pre-death days. Young Jason, Robin Jason, grinning at a charity event with Bruce.

"That's Jason Todd. Bruce Wayne's adopted son. The second Robin—" You stopped, looking at the photo more carefully. "Wait. You know who Jason Todd is?"

"I mean, I know of him. Everyone in Gotham knows the story." Jason kept his voice carefully neutral. "Kid from Crime Alley, got adopted by Bruce Wayne, died in some kind of accident."

"Except it wasn't an accident. It was the Joker." Your voice was soft. "He was murdered. Beaten to death. He was only fifteen."

Jason's hands clenched involuntarily.

"And Bruce Wayne never talked about him again. Just... probably moved on to the next Robin like Jason never existed." You sounded angry now. "What kind of person does that?"

"Maybe he was grieving. Everyone grieves differently."

"Maybe. Or maybe Bruce Wayne is exactly the kind of person who'd train child soldiers and then discard them when they become inconvenient." You turned back to the board. "Which brings me to my main theory."

"Which is?"

"Red Hood is Jason Todd."

Jason's heart stopped.

"That's impossible. Jason Todd is dead."

"Is he? Look at the timeline." You pointed to your carefully constructed chart. "Jason Todd dies. Six months later, bodies start appearing in Crime Alley—all criminals, all killed with precision. A year after that, Red Hood appears. Fully formed. Professional. Like someone who's been training."

"That's circumstantial—"

"Red Hood knows Batman's tactics intimately. He fights like someone Batman trained. He knows the Bat-family's patterns, their methods, their weaknesses." You pulled up combat footage. "And look at this. Red Hood favors his left side slightly—like someone compensating for old injuries. Jason Todd's autopsy photos—leaked, unfortunately—show massive trauma to his right side."

"You looked at autopsy photos?" Jason felt sick.

"I had to verify the theory." You looked at him seriously. "Jason, Red Hood moves like someone who died and came back angry. Someone who was betrayed by the person who was supposed to protect him. Someone who decided that if Batman won't do what's necessary, he will."

"You can't prove any of that."

"No. But I can prove that Red Hood knows things only Jason Todd would know. He protects the same streets Jason grew up on. He targets the same types of criminals that hurt people in Jason's neighborhood. He even—" You pulled up another note. "He leaves books at Crime Alley libraries. Classics. The same books Jason Todd was photographed reading at Wayne Manor."

Jason was going to be sick.

"That's a hell of a theory," he managed.

"It's more than a theory. It's the truth. I know it." You looked at him. "Don't you think Jason Todd deserves to be remembered? Deserves to have his story told correctly?"

"Maybe Jason Todd deserves privacy. Maybe he doesn't want his story told."

"How would you know what Jason Todd wants?"

"Because—" Jason stopped himself. "Because anyone who's been through that kind of trauma deserves to decide for themselves how their story is shared."

You studied him carefully. "You're really defensive about this."

"I just think digging into a dead kid's life is kind of ghoulish."

"I'm not digging into a dead kid's life. I'm trying to understand a living vigilante." You softened. "But you're right. If Jason Todd is alive—if he is Red Hood—then he's made it clear he doesn't want to be Jason Todd anymore. And maybe I should respect that."

"Really?"

"Really." You started taking down some of the Jason Todd photos. "I can theorize without plastering a trauma victim's childhood photos all over my wall."

Jason felt his throat get tight. "Thanks."

"But I'm still keeping the Red Hood analysis. And we're still doing the stakeout." You grinned. "I want to meet him. Ask him questions. Understand his perspective."

"You want to interview a crime lord."

"I want to interview someone everyone calls a monster to see if he actually is one." You took his hand. "Come on. Help me pick a location."

The Stakeout: Night One

Jason had chosen the location carefully—one of his regular patrol routes, but not one where he'd scheduled anything dangerous tonight.

He'd also texted Roy: Need you to cover Crime Alley tonight. Personal emergency.

Personal emergency = girlfriend stakeout? Roy had replied. Shut up. This is the funniest thing that's ever happened. I'm telling everyone. I will shoot you. Worth it.

Now Jason sat on a rooftop with you, watching you set up an impressive array of surveillance equipment.

"Did you rent this stuff?" he asked.

"Borrowed it from work. Technically for a photography project, which this kind of is." You adjusted the telephoto lens. "Okay, based on my research, Red Hood usually passes through this area between 11 PM and 1 AM."

"Very specific."

"I'm thorough." You settled in next to him. "Thanks for doing this with me. I know you think it's weird."

"It's definitely weird. But you're excited, so..." He shrugged. "I want you to be happy."

"You're sweet." You kissed his cheek. "Even if you are weirdly protective of Red Hood."

"I'm not protective—"

"You absolutely are. Every time I mention him, you get all defensive." You studied him. "Why?"

"I just... I don't think he's the monster everyone says he is."

"Have you met him?"

Jason hesitated. "Once. A while back. He helped me out of a bad situation."

This was technically true. Red Hood had helped Jason Todd out of the bad situation of being dead.

"What was he like?" You were leaning forward eagerly.

"Intense. Angry. But not at me. At the people who'd hurt me." Jason kept his voice steady. "He made sure I got home safe. Told me to stay out of trouble."

"He protected you."

"Yeah."

"See! He's not a monster!" You grabbed your camera as movement caught your eye. "Wait, is that him?"

Jason looked. Someone in dark clothes was moving across a nearby rooftop.

But it wasn't him. It was Tim.

"Wrong costume," Jason said. "That's Red Robin. Different vigilante."

"How can you tell from this distance?"

"The cape's different. And the build is smaller." Jason had spent years learning to identify his brothers from a distance. "Red Hood is bigger. Broader shoulders."

"You know a lot about Red Hood's measurements," you teased.

"I pay attention."

"Clearly." You zoomed in on Red Robin. "Think they know each other? The different Bats?"

"Probably. Gotham's vigilante community is pretty tight-knit." Jason pulled out his phone, texting Tim: Get out of sector 7. I'm busy.

Busy with what? Tim replied. Personal stuff. Just go. Wait are you on a DATE in your territory? Jason, that's adorable. I will end you. Can't wait to tell Dick about this.

Jason put his phone away with more force than necessary.

"Everything okay?" you asked.

"Fine. Just... work stuff."

You didn't look convinced but didn't push. "So if Red Hood doesn't show up tonight, what's the plan?"

"We try again another night?"

"Or—" You pulled out a notebook. "I've been working on a profile. Trying to figure out where he might be based on crime patterns."

You opened the notebook, and Jason saw pages of analysis. Maps marked with locations, timelines, behavioral patterns.

You'd basically created a guide to finding him.

"This is..." Jason didn't know what to say.

"Obsessive? I know. But look—" You pointed to a cluster of marks on the map. "These are all locations where Red Hood intervened in domestic violence situations. They're all within six blocks of Crime Alley's old community center."

"The one that burned down?"

"Yeah. And guess who used to volunteer there as a kid?" You pulled out another photo—young Jason, maybe twelve, at a community center event.

"Jason Todd," Jason said quietly.

"Jason Todd." You looked at the map. "I think Red Hood—if he is Jason—still thinks of this as his neighborhood. The place he needs to protect."

"That's a nice thought."

"It's more than that. It's a pattern. Red Hood doesn't just fight crime randomly. He protects specific people in specific places. Like someone who knows this neighborhood intimately. Who grew up here."

Jason looked at your analysis—at the care you'd taken to understand not just what he did, but why he did it.

"Why does this matter so much to you?" he asked.

"Because everyone deserves to have their story understood. Not judged, not condemned—understood." You looked at him. "Red Hood kills people. That's a fact. But he only kills people who hurt the vulnerable. Who traffic kids, who run protection rackets, who make neighborhoods unsafe. He's not crazy. He's not a monster. He's someone who decided that some people don't deserve mercy."

"And you agree with that?"

"I don't know," you admitted. "I think justice is complicated. I think Batman's no-killing rule sounds nice in theory but fails people in practice. I think—" You stopped. "I think someone like Red Hood exists because the system failed him first."

Jason felt his eyes burning. "Yeah. Maybe."

"So yeah. I want to understand him. I want to hear his side." You smiled. "Even if everyone thinks I'm crazy."

"You're not crazy," Jason said. "You're the first person who's tried to actually understand instead of just judge."

"You say that like you know him well."

"Maybe I understand him better than most."

You studied his face. "Jason... is there something you want to tell me?"

This was it. The moment. He could tell you everything.

But then his phone buzzed.

Trafficking situation on 4th Street. Need backup. Roy.

"Shit," Jason muttered.

"What's wrong?"

"I—I have to go. Work emergency." He was already standing.

"At midnight?"

"It's... complicated. I'm sorry. Can we do this another time?"

"Jason, what's going on?"

"I can't explain right now. I just—I have to go." He kissed her quickly. "I'm sorry. I'll text you later."

And then he was gone, leaving you alone on the rooftop with your camera and your theories.

Twenty minutes later, you were packing up your equipment when you heard the thud of boots on the rooftop behind you.

You spun around to find Red Hood standing there, tall and intimidating in his helmet and armor.

"You shouldn't be up here alone," he said. His voice was modulated, deeper than normal.

"I—I was just leaving." Your heart was hammering. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be in your territory—"

"You're the one who's been investigating me."

It wasn't a question.

"How did you know?"

"I pay attention. Someone's been asking questions about me. Tracking patterns. Setting up surveillance." He took a step closer. "That's dangerous. People who look too close tend to get hurt."

"Are you threatening me?"

"I'm warning you." He stopped a few feet away. "Why are you doing this?"

"I want to understand you. Everyone calls you a monster, but I don't think you are."

"You don't know me."

"I know you protect people. I know you only kill criminals who prey on the vulnerable. I know you care about Crime Alley more than Batman ever did." You were finding your courage now. "I know everyone's given up on you, decided you're just a villain, but I think you're someone who got dealt a shit hand and did the best you could with it."

Red Hood was very still.

"And I think—" You took a breath. "I think you used to be Jason Todd. And I think you deserve to have your story told right."

"Jason Todd is dead."

"Is he?"

"He died. Brutally. The kid he was died with him."

"But you lived. Red Hood lived. And you're doing what Jason Todd would have wanted—protecting the people who can't protect themselves."

"You don't know what Jason Todd would have wanted."

"Maybe not. But I know what you do every night. And I think it's worth something."

Red Hood pulled off his helmet.

Jason stood there, looking at you with red-rimmed eyes.

"Hi," he said roughly.

You stared at him. "Jason?"

"Surprise?"

"You—you're—" You couldn't form words.

"I'm Red Hood. I'm also Jason Todd, back from the dead. I'm also your boyfriend who just left you on a rooftop alone because I had to stop a trafficking ring." He ran a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry. For lying. For leaving. For all of it."

You were still processing. "You died."

"Yeah. The Joker killed me. Beat me to death with a crowbar. Left me in a building to explode." His voice was flat, reciting facts. "Bruce was too late. I died. Then the universe decided that wasn't enough and brought me back."

"How—"

"Lazarus Pit. Magic. Trauma. Take your pick." He looked at you. "I came back wrong. Angry. I wanted revenge. I wanted Bruce to understand what it felt like to be abandoned."

"Bruce didn't abandon you—"

"He didn't kill the Joker." Jason's voice broke. "The Joker murdered his son and Bruce just... put him back in Arkham. Again. Like my life didn't matter. Like I didn't matter."

"Jason—"

"So I became Red Hood. Became the thing Bruce wouldn't. I kill the people who deserve killing. I protect Crime Alley because no one else will. I do what needs to be done."

You were quiet for a long moment.

"So all those theories I had—"

"Were right. Disturbingly right. You profiled me perfectly." He smiled bitterly. "You were tracking yourself dating."

"I made you go on a stakeout to find yourself."

"Yeah."

"I have photos of you on my evidence board."

"I know."

"Jason, this is—" You started laughing. Slightly hysterically. "This is insane."

"I know."

"I've been investigating my own boyfriend for months!"

"I'm aware."

"And you just... let me?"

"I panicked! You were so excited about your theories, and you understood what I was trying to do, and I didn't want to ruin it!" Jason was pacing now. "And then you started getting close to the truth and I knew I had to tell you but I didn't know how without—" He stopped. "Without you leaving."

"Why would I leave?"

"Because I'm a killer. Because I'm broken. Because I'm not the person you thought you were dating."

You crossed to him, taking his face in your hands. "Jason. I've been spending months researching Red Hood. Reading about every person you've killed, every line you've crossed, every rule you've broken."

"Exactly—"

"And I fell in love with you anyway. Not despite who you are—because of who you are." You stroked his cheek. "You think I didn't know my boyfriend was hiding something? You think I didn't notice the scars, the nightmares, the way you flinch when people move too fast?"

"I—"

"I knew you had trauma. I knew you had secrets. I chose to be with you anyway." You smiled. "Finding out you're Red Hood? That just explains the rest of it."

"You're not scared?"

"Of you? Never." You kissed him softly. "I'm scared for you. I'm scared about what you do every night. But scared of you? Jason, you're the safest person I know."

"I kill people."

"You kill people who hurt kids. Who traffic women. Who prey on the vulnerable." You held his gaze. "I'm not saying it's right. I'm not saying it's good. But I understand why you do it."

"The world's not black and white."

"No. It's not." You pulled him closer. "It's red and black. Like you."

Jason laughed, the sound wet and broken. "That was terrible."

"I'm a lover on a rooftop, not a poet." You kissed him again. "But I mean it. I love you. All of you. Jason Todd and Red Hood and whoever else you are in between."

"Even though I'm a disaster?"

"Especially because you're a disaster." You wiped the tears from his face. "Though we do need to talk about you ditching me on a rooftop. That's not cool."

"In my defense, there was a trafficking situation—"

"I know. You save people. It's what you do." You smiled. "Just maybe text me next time so I don't think you're running away from our relationship?"

"Deal." Jason pulled you into a hug, holding you tight. "I love you. I'm sorry I lied."

"I love you too. Even though you let me make an entire evidence board about you."

"In my defense, your evidence board was very thorough. I was impressed."

"I'm a good detective."

"You really are." He pulled back to look at you. "So what now?"

"Now you take me back to your place—your actual place, not the apartment you pretend to live in—and show me your Red Hood setup." You grinned. "And then you're going to help me update my evidence board with correct information."

"You're keeping the evidence board?"

"Are you kidding? I successfully identified Red Hood's secret identity! That's going on my resume!"

"Please don't put that on your resume."

"Fine. But I'm keeping the board."

Later, at Jason's Real Safehouse

"This is way cooler than your fake apartment," you said, examining Jason's weapon collection.

"The fake apartment is for dates and pretending to be normal."

"You have a motorcycle. Multiple motorcycles."

"That one's for Red Hood work. That one's for regular work. That one's just because it's pretty."

"You're such a boy." But you were smiling. "Can I see the helmet?"

Jason handed it over, watching as you examined it carefully.

"It's heavier than I thought."

"Reinforced. Bulletproof. Has a communication system built in."

"And it makes your voice all deep and scary."

"That's the voice modulator."

"Do the voice."

"What?"

"Do the Red Hood voice!"

Jason sighed but activated the modulator. "This is ridiculous."

You shivered. "Okay, that's unfairly hot."

"Really?"

"Really." You set down the helmet. "Though I prefer regular Jason voice. It's less scary."

"I can do scary without the modulator."

"I know. I've seen you argue with customer service." You looked around the safehouse. "This is really your life. The weapons, the armor, the danger."

"Yeah." Jason waited for you to realize what that meant. To realize how dangerous it was to be with him.

"Cool." You took his hand. "Now show me your evidence board."

"I don't have an evidence board—"

"You have target lists, don't you? Same thing."

"That's not—" Jason stopped. "Actually, yeah, that's pretty much the same thing."

You grinned. "We're perfect for each other. Both obsessive, both make boards to track people."

"The difference is yours is theoretical and mine is for actual crime-fighting."

"Details." You pulled up your phone. "Okay, so I need to update my files. What's Bruce really like? Is Dick really the first Robin? How many Robins have there been?"

"Are you interviewing me?"

"I've been investigating the Bat-family for months. Now I have an actual source. Yes, I'm interviewing you." You pulled out a notebook. "Start from the beginning. How did you become Robin?"

Jason looked at you—excited, curious, completely unafraid—and felt something warm in his chest.

"I tried to steal the Batmobile's tires."

"You what?"

"I was homeless, twelve years old, and I saw this fancy car parked in Crime Alley. Figured I could sell the tires." He smiled at the memory. "Got two off before Batman caught me."

"And he made you Robin?"

"Eventually. First he tried to put me in the system. Then he realized I'd just run away again. Then he brought me home." Jason's voice softened. "Gave me a room, food, stability. Trained me. Made me Robin."

"And you loved it."

"I loved it. I loved helping people. I loved having a purpose." His voice hardened. "Until the Joker."

"You don't have to talk about that if you don't want to."

"No, I—I want you to know. All of it." Jason took a breath. "I went looking for my birth mother. Found her in Ethiopia. She was being blackmailed by the Joker. I tried to save her, and he... he beat me with a crowbar. Tied me up. Left me in a warehouse with a bomb."

You squeezed his hand.

"Bruce tried to save me. He was just too late. I died. My mom died. The Joker got away." Jason's laugh was bitter. "Again."

"I'm so sorry."

"Not your fault. It's just... that's who I am now. The Robin who died. The kid Bruce couldn't save. The one mistake in Batman's perfect record."

"You're not a mistake."

"Tell Bruce that."

"I will if I meet him." You were fierce now. "Jason, what happened to you was awful. Traumatic. World-ending. But you survived. You came back. And you're using that second chance to help people."

"By killing."

"By doing what you think is necessary. I'm not going to judge that." You looked at him. "But I am going to make sure you're taking care of yourself. Are you seeing a therapist?"

"A what?"

"Therapist. Someone to talk to about the trauma and the Lazarus Pit and the complicated feelings about Bruce."

"I'm fine—"

"Jason, you died violently, came back from the dead, have complicated PTSD, and spend your nights fighting crime while dressed like a vigilante. You're not fine."

"Okay, when you put it that way—"

"You need therapy. We're finding you a therapist."

"You can't just—"

"Watch me." You were already typing. "There are therapists in Gotham who work with superheroes. We're making you an appointment."

Jason stared at you. "You're bossy."

"Someone has to take care of you. Might as well be me." You kissed him. "Now keep telling me about the Bat-family. I have so many questions."

Two hours later, you'd filled an entire new notebook with information about the Bat-family.

"So Dick was the first Robin, you were second, Tim was third, Stephanie was fourth, and Damian is current?"

"Yep. Though Steph was only Robin briefly."

"And Damian is Bruce's biological son?"

"With an assassin. It's complicated."

"Everything about this family is complicated." You were organizing your notes. "Okay, I need to update my evidence board with actual facts instead of theories."

"You're really keeping that thing?"

"Jason, I spent months on it. It's staying." You looked at him. "Plus, it's kind of our origin story. I was trying to figure out Red Hood's identity, and it turned out I was dating him the whole time."

"Most couples meet at coffee shops."

"We met when you helped me carry groceries and then asked for my number while looking like you might throw up from nervousness."

"I was very smooth."

"You dropped the bag with the eggs."

"I was distracted by your smile."

You kissed him. "That's better. Keep working on the lines."

"Can I ask you something?"

"Anything."

"Why are you okay with this? Really?" Jason gestured around the safehouse. "I'm a crime lord. I kill people. I have enemies who would hurt you to get to me. This is dangerous."

"I know."

"And you're still here?"

"Jason." You took both his hands. "I spent months researching Red Hood. I know exactly what you do. I know the risks. And I'm choosing to stay anyway."

"Why?"

"Because I love you. Because you protect people who can't protect themselves. Because you're trying to make Crime Alley better even though it's messy and complicated and not heroic." You smiled. "And because someone needs to make sure you're eating properly and sleeping occasionally and not just existing on rage and energy drinks."

"I eat properly."

"You had three granola bars for dinner last night."

"That's dinner."

"That's snack food, Jason."

"This is why I didn't tell you. You're going to be all responsible and make me eat vegetables."

"Someone has to." You pulled him toward the kitchen area. "Come on. I'm making you real food, and then you're going to sleep for eight hours like a normal person."

"I have patrol—"

"Roy can cover for you. You said he owes you a favor."

"How do you know about Roy?"

"I've been investigating you for months. I know about all your allies." You started pulling out ingredients. "Now sit down and let me take care of you."

Jason sat, watching you move around his kitchen like you belonged there.

Like this was normal.

Like dating Red Hood was just another Tuesday.

"You're incredible," he said.

"I know." You grinned at him. "Now tell me more about this Lazarus Pit. Because I have questions about the science of resurrection..."

[lushberrys]

Thinking of Jason trying hard to convince you why you should date a younger guy.

he starts off by saying something like "well i'm young, i have enough energy to keep up with you 😏" and he flounders when you tell him "i don't need someone young with energy to keep up with ne. i need stability"

but he's quick to come back with a "well you know what they say, it's hard to teach old dogs new tricks. i'm at the perfect training age to be whatever you want"

and like, who can say no to that? you have to give him a shot

[megumiangel]

frat!kuna and his scaredy-cat gf! ><

-> 0.8k, sfw!

you insisted on going to the horror movie night with your new boyfriend, sukuna, after overhearing his idiot frat brothers whispering about you.

“she’s really soft.”

“i've never seen ryo with a girl like her.”

“watch her piss herself at the first jumpscare.”

laughter all around.

and maybe it was stupid, but you wanted to prove them wrong. prove you could handle the same things as the girls he usually kept around. cool girls. confident girls. mature girls who didn’t cling to their boyfriend’s sleeve every five minutes.

so you sat beside sukuna and in that freezing theater, chin lifted stubbornly, pretending your stomach wasn’t already twisting from the opening music alone.

for the first thirty minutes, you held it together.

barely.

you got by closing your eyes at the scarier parts and subtly whispering to sukuna to tell you when it was over.

then the movie hit you with the most horrific, satan-spawned jumpscare imaginable.

you shrieked so loud the entire row flinched.

your hand jerked violently.

and your ice cream launched directly into satoru gojo's face.

silence.

then satoru yelling, “WHAT THE HELLY?”

suguru and toji snickered.

and suddenly you were crying.

partly because you’d just assaulted sukuna's friend with matcha soft serve after you'd spent a whole minute outside the theatre convincing all of them you weren't scared in the slightest before you'd gone in.

partly because that was some really good ice cream you'd just wasted.

partly because everyone was staring.

but mostly because that movie was fucking terrifying.

sukuna immediately grabbed your wrist and stood up. “aight, we’re leaving.”

you hid your face in his arm while his friends snickered behind you. humiliation burned hot in your chest as he guided you out of the theater, your legs still shaky.

outside, the cold night air hit your cheeks.

“sorry…” you mumbled miserably.

sukuna snorted. “it's fine, baby. gojo deserved it, he was being an asshole."

you whined, covering your face. "i wasn't talking about that!"

he laughed under his breath, but there wasn’t an ounce of cruelty in it. just amusement. then he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your temple, “i’ll take you home, yeah?”

you sniffled and nodded. “that was scary.”

“i know, babe. i'm sorry,” he opened the passenger door for you, buckling your seatbelt himself with surprising gentleness. “should’ve known that shit would freak you out.”

“it was my idea…” you hiccuped.

“i still shoulda said no.” he shut the door and rounded the hood of the car.

the few seconds you sat alone were awful. your eyes immediately darted to the rearview mirror. the backseat looked way too dark. you stared at it, fully convinced some horrifying demon woman was about to crawl over the seats and kill you.

the driver door opened and sukuna slid in and caught you staring.

“…you looking at your little friend back there?”

you gasped, “kuna, don’t SAY that!”

he barked out a laugh while starting the engine. “you want another ice cream?”

your watery eyes widened hopefully. “…yeah.”

“thought so.”

by the time you reached your apartment complex, you were clutching a drive-thru soft serve with both hands while sukuna walked beside you toward your door.

you were finally calm again.

until he kissed your forehead, patted your ass lightly, and turned away. “see you tomorrow, babe.”

terror immediately flooded your face. you grabbed his arm so fast he almost stumbled back.

he looked down at you with a blink. then sighed. “…should’ve expected that.”

your eyes welled up again. “y-you’re leaving?”

“nah.” he unlocked your apartment and walked in beside you. “just wanted to see your face.” sukuna lied smoothly.

you blinked. “…oh.”

“cute reaction though.”

you huffed at him before setting your ice cream on the counter. “um… i need to pee.”

“okay?” he said, lifting a questioning brow, not quite sure what this has to do with him.

you awkwardly twisted your fingers together before looking up at him nervously.

a beat passed.

then sukuna sighed the sigh of a man accepting his fate.

a minute later, he was inside your bathroom aggressively yanking the shower curtain open .checking the cabinets. looking behind the door.

“there.” he deadpanned. “no demons.”

you stood in the doorway anxiously. “is it safe?”

“yes.”

“…promise?”

“baby, if something attacks you while you piss, i’ll personally beat its ass.”

you considered that seriously.

“…okay.”

you stepped inside cautiously.

“stand by the door.”

“stand by the—” he repeated in disbelief, before he stopped himself with a long exhale. “fine.”

“and turn around.”

“baby, i’ve literally seen you naked—”

“TURN AROUND.”

“bossy as hell,” he muttered, turning around anyway.

“and cover your ears.”

he stared at you over his shoulder in disbelief. “why?”

"i don't want you hearing me pee!"

sukuna sighed slowly. then lifted too resigned hands to his ears.

“not all the way though,” you continued nervously, “or you won’t hear me scream.”

sukuna closed his eyes and covered his ears, “that all, princess?”

“mhm!” you chirped brightly, kissing his cheek. “thanks honey. you’re sooo brave.”

he looked up at the ceiling like he was asking the universe for strength.

“next time we’re watching finding nemo.”

supa kyoot dividers by my fave @anitalenia !!

perm taglist: @dreamydaredevil @paparaysstuff

[yutaerina]

Baby!Yuji realizing his resemblance to dad!Sukuna.

°❀.࿔*⋆⭒˚｡⋆°❀.࿔*⋆⭒˚｡⋆°❀.࿔*⋆⭒˚｡⋆°❀.࿔*⋆⭒˚｡⋆°❀.࿔

​You noticed that six-year-old Yuji had been looking in the mirror a lot lately. He was constantly studying his face and playing with his hair. As he did the exact same thing right now, a fond smile touched your lips. You walked up behind him, resting your hands gently on his small shoulders.

"Looks like someone really loves looking in the mirror."

He turned to you and smiled.

"Mommy! I look like Daddy!" he said.

"Ah, so that's why. You were discovering how much you look like your dad."

"Look, my eyes and my hair... just like his!"

His excitement made you giggle. You ruffled his hair and kissed his rosy cheeks.

"Yes, baby. You're a mini version of your dad."

​Lately, everyone who saw him kept saying how much he looked like his father. The boy had heard it so many times that he actually started to notice the resemblance himself.

​When Sukuna walked into the room, Yuji shared his discovery with him too.

"Daddy, look at me!"

He widened his tiny eyes as if to prove it and pointed at his pink hair.

"Look, we're exactly the same!"

A small, smug smile appeared on Sukuna’s face.

"You're your father's son, kid."

Hearing his dad's words, Yuji's face lit up. But then, a sudden thought about you seemed to cross his little mind.

"I don’t look like Mama."

You pouted slightly.

"You didn’t have to say that right to my face, Yuji."

Sukuna let out a short chuckle, a lazy, playful smirk on his lips.

"Sorry about that," he murmured. "My genes are just a bit too stubborn."

You rolled your eyes.

Encouraged by his dad's laughter, the little boy turned back to the mirror with a proud grin.

"My lips, my nose... all Daddy!"

You let out a soft laugh.

"Yeah... You really do look like your dad."

"I didn’t know you loved your father quite this much," Sukuna teased, a hint of deep amusement in his voice.

Yuji hugged Sukuna's legs tightly and looked up at him.

"I love my daddy sooo much!"

Sukuna ran his hand through Yuji's pink hair, ruffling it gently.

°❀.࿔*⋆⭒˚｡⋆°❀.࿔*⋆⭒˚｡⋆°❀.࿔*⋆⭒˚｡⋆°❀.࿔*⋆⭒˚｡⋆°❀.࿔

[fruitsicake]

૮꒰˶•༝ •˶꒱ა♡ Husband Toji! taking care of your pregnant self while you sleep!

You woke up briefly when a warm hand brushed against your shoulder.

“baby…”

His voice was rough with sleep.

You barely managed a confused noise before he carefully slid an arm beneath you and guided you onto your side.

You blinked. “What are you doing?”

“You were on your back again.”

“I’m comfortable.”

“I know.” He tucked a pillow behind you so you wouldn’t roll over immediately. “But i read that’s not how you’re supposed to sleep right now.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “You read one article”

“I read six.”

His hand settled over your hip for a second, making sure you stayed on your side before pulling the blanket back over you.

“Go back to sleep.”

A few minutes later, after he’d drifted off, you rolled onto your back again.

The next thing you knew, he was half-awake mumbling something unintelligible as he gently nudged you back onto your side without opening his eyes.

It had become a habit.

Every time he caught you sleeping on your back, he’d quietly reposition you, fluff your pillows, kiss your forehead, and fall asleep again like a man personally assigned to guard both you and the baby.

[dorims]

i caught you looking back, so let's go.

'jason makes a mean pasta' he knows this, everyone does, however, its different to hear it coming from you while he's outside your apartment window — not in a weird way though! he lives here! you just happen to be having a girls night and bursting in with his red hood gear doesn't sound like a plan.

pairing. jason todd x fem!reader wc. 2.4k warnings. alcohol consumption (wine), maybe MAYBE ooc!jason todd pretty please forgive me if thats the case i swear i tried my best, english is not my first language a/n. first fic!! might delete later!! also my first time writing in present tense lol i always use past but i wanted to spice things up a bit. enjoy!!

dividers by @/pixopix

“Jason makes a mean pasta.” You groan at the memory. Everyone else in your living room enthusiastically agrees, voices mixing with some soft jazz playing in the background.

Patrol had been uneventful, as uneventful as a night in Gotham could be. Perhaps that’s what got him to clock out from his shift earlier than usual without taking into account the girls’ night you are hosting in your shared living room.

Now, he is trapped on the balcony, eavesdropping on all the ruckus coming from inside. His helmet is off, sitting right next to his thigh, and the wind is kind against his flushed skin, comforting.

He can hear the clinking of glasses, probably the ones you had bought at a thrift store on your first date after moving in together. Then laughter, before a cork pops. Another bottle is being opened, and he is sure this wasn’t the first of the night.

After all, you had stuck three in the fridge earlier this afternoon.

Four voices inside, including yours, cheer after the wine is poured. Laughter follows once again.

“He needs to teach Jeremy how to work around the kitchen.” One of your friends— Olivia, he thinks— sighs. “Last time he tried making pasta, we had firefighters called on us.”

Jessica, he is at least 75% sure it's her, interrupts, taking another sip of her wine. “He’s a good cook, babes, not a miracle worker.”

You chuckle into your cup, “He’s an amazing cook, actually.”

Everyone coos. Jason blushes. He considers taking a round trip around the building, entering your apartment from the bedroom window and staying holed up in there until everyone leaves. But he isn’t moving. He doesn’t want to, now that he’s privy to the conversation you were having — that and the fact that he’s sure he had locked it before leaving.

“Can you at least host another dinner party before bragging?” Olivia groans. He can hear her pour herself another glass of wine. You hum in response, scooting closer to your friend so she can lean her head on the crook of your neck.

“You want carbonara again?” You thread your fingers through her hair, and she sighs. The last one to speak– Lily, Jason takes a guess– interrupts her before she can respond.

“I do.” She takes a sip of her wine, letting out a contented sigh afterwards. “I missed out on you guys’ last one, remember?”

Jessica whistles lowly under her breath. It catches everyone’s attention. “Boy, did you miss out on so much.” 

At Lily’s confusion, she sighs and nods your way. When she raises her brow, you tilt your head.

“What do you mean?” you ask, confusion lacing your voice. Jason could hear it from a mile away. It piques his own curiosity, and he can’t help but lean in.

“What do you mean, ‘what do I mean’?” Jessica laughs. “I’m talking about your obnoxious display of domesticity.”

You shake your head. “I don’t understand.”

Jessica groans, but she is still smiling, a twinkle of warmth in her eyes. “Between Jason and you?”

Olivia bursts into a fit of giggles before you can respond. Some of her wine splashes inside her glass and you are quick to grab it from her hands, putting it back on the wooden table.

“It was the sweetest thing, Lils,” she gets a hold of your arm and nuzzles her cheek against it, before launching into a spiel. “They were so in sync, like, Jer and I arrived way too early and they were still making, I think it was… ugh what was it?”

She looks up at you, still pressing herself close. It makes you smile. “Garlic bread.”

“Right!” Her attention is back on Lily. The latter nods, invested. She doesn’t dare interrupt the story. “And he’s like, chopping the baguette in these identical-sized bites, meanwhile you,” her eyes are on you now, “were chopping garlic in tiny little squares and before you could ask for butter, he was handing you butter and a bowl to mix the two and he like—” 

She interrupts herself, shaking you in place with a squeal, and you laugh, heart full. Jason melts at the sound. His eyes are closed, reminiscing on that night. 

He had been stressed out of his mind, hoping to make some good food and a good impression, when the doorbell had rung. Things weren’t ready yet.

“It’s okay, Livy’s always early,” you had reassured him, squeezed his bicep, placed a kiss on his cheek. “Either that, or extremely late.” 

He had sighed, focusing back on the cutting board. Olivia and Jeremy had stayed put at the breakfast bar, talking and looking as you guys cooked, entranced by the way he had handed you another knife before you could even ask. How he had opened the fridge and handed you the butter. How, after you had put everything in the microwave to melt together, you had opened the oven and pulled the right-sized baking pan from the four you had stored. It had looked perfectly choreographed– you had not crashed into each other, not once. 

“I’ve never seen you more in love in all our years of friendship!” Olivia squeals and you freeze in place. You can feel your body warming up from the inside, and a stupid sheepish grin forces itself  onto your lips.

“Shut up!” you drag out the syllables in mock complaint, shaking your friend back and making her squeal even more. Before the two of you could fall on the floor in a heap of giggles, you chug the remains of your wine and place your glass on the table, missing the coaster.

“Oh, you’re soooo in love with your Jason!” Olivia keeps on egging you, freeing herself from you to hide behind Jessica, who caught that last interaction on camera.

Trying to catch your breath, you lean against the couch before asking: “My what?” 

“Your Jason,” Lily tilts her head and responds with an amused grin.

“Stop itttt,” you launch yourself onto the comfy couch. Your breathing stalls for a second as you bite your cheek, lost in thought. “Actually,” you pause, eyes shimmering with nothing but delight, “say it again.”

“Say what?” Jessica teases. “‘Your Jason’?”

The squeal you let out sounds muffled. He could picture the scene in perfect detail: some sort of elatedness brightens your face as you get a hold of one of the throw pillows on the couch. You burrow your face in it and the girls laugh alongside you.

In the absence of something to hide his own delight with, Jason bites his lower lip. He looks up at the night sky, uncommonly clear, and sighs. He is sure you are going to be the death of him.

The laughter dies down and he can hear footsteps, the clinking of a bottle, and the way you shift your weight on the couch. 

You hug the pillow, looking at the ceiling. “It’s just, I don’t know.”

“What don’t you know?” Lily asks as she takes the empty bottle and leaves it in the sink. Then, she pulls the fridge open, taking the last bottle you had stashed along with a sparkling water, before joining you again.

“I don’t know,” your glass is empty now, but you feel so full– with your friends, with your love, and with a lot of wine. It is warm in your tummy, spreading through your limbs until it reaches up, up, up and messes with your head in the endearing way wine tends to do. “I like like him way too much, like I get, I don’t know, stupid about him.”

“Yeah but you’ve been stupid about him since you met him.” 

Consider Jason’s interest piqued. He relaxes against the wall and listens.

“You know it’s true.” Jessica raises her glass at you, Lily having already refilled it for her.

From outside, Jason can hear the pillow falling on the ground as you sit up. You pay it no mind, scooting towards the edge of the couch. The glass of wine, now empty, makes a clinking noise as you pick it up before extending it in Lily’s direction; another one.

A sip and you are already fueled up, ready to defend yourself against the ‘chalant’ allegations they were trying to raise against you. “Actually, it’s not.”

Jessica deadpans, and you know that you are fighting a losing battle. You can tell from Lily’s conspiratorial smile and Olivia’s giggles. 

“You literally changed the route you take on your morning walks just so you could see him.” 

“To be fair,” off to a great start, “I like to switch them up here and there,” you shrug. Frustration, or perhaps a wave of self-cringe, washes over you as you recount the familiar story. Perhaps another sip of wine could help? Yeah, it definitely will — you let out a puff of air and murmur through clenched teeth. “Plus, it's not like it worked. I barely saw him after that.”

“AHA! So you agree, then! You did change it just to run into him!”

“Well, no! I changed it because I get bored otherwise.” 

They don’t look convinced. Like a petulant child, you avoid eye contact. Good god, you are burying yourself in chalantness at this point. “And sure, whatever, the thought of running into him did motivate me a little, sue me.”

The three break out in a choir of cheers and Jason can’t believe what he is hearing. He can easily make out one of them shouting ‘Stupid, I tell you!’ followed by a dreamy ‘You were soooo smitten!’. He joins the ruckus with laughter of his own, although he smothers it down with his hand to avoid getting caught. 

All that teasing is making him blush, the giddiness in his chest bubbling up to a boiling point. He is so gonna make fun of you later, risking the possibility of you calling him a hypocrite after he comes clean.

“If its of any consolation,” Lily jumps in, “he looked extremely stupid about you too.”

“Really?” A saccharine sweet intrigue forces your voice to jump half an octave. An excited tilt pushes your curiosity to the edge of its seat.

Lily hums in agreement. “We could all tell.”

“From a distance too!” Olivia chimes in, once again all excited.

Sheepishness tints his cheeks. Again, it's teasing his skin with a rosy hue that looks just like it did back then, he is sure. And of course, he can’t deny its true: he had been stupid about you since the very first day he met you.

The girls left right when his patrol was supposed to end. He watched you kiss and hug the three of them goodbye, and only make your way back once you were sure they made it to their cab safe and sound. 

The promise of rain waltzes through the night. His gaze follows the retreating taillights, blending with the horizon. He can hear the way you hum from inside the apartment, picking the remaining glasses and plates; you had basically shooed the girls away before they could even offer their help cleaning up.

The clinking of ceramic and glass mix and melt with the playlist still on loop pouring from a speaker, though at a lower volume now — the neighbours are sleeping after all. He doesn’t know what does it exactly– either the soft jazz, or the sound of your sock clad feet dancing against the floorboards– or perhaps it’s the sound of you existing peacefully after a night full of laughter, but something bigger than him forces his eyes closed and his body to melt against the brick wall once more.

However, and considering how engrossed he was in the sound of your humming, he should’ve noticed the moment you stopped. The sound of you turning on your heels should've snapped him out of it. Instead, it was a wooden creek that did.

“You’ve been here all night?” you pop your head out of the window with a knowing smile. He turns quickly in your direction, wide-eyed, but his startled state lasts no more than a second. It dissipates quickly after he soaks in the image of you. One of your arms rests on the windowsill, the other holding the bottom rail in place.

You are wearing one of his sweatshirts, one that reaches way past your hands and you have to roll the sleeves at least four times. The chunkiness of said cuffs tends to be a bother, you insist on wearing his clothes just because. 

“How’d you know I was here?” Jason smiles back, eyes crinkling at the edges with utter endearment. There’s a soft layer of sleep that coats yours, making them slightly droopy, but it’s mixed with bliss and he can feel the way it's spreading to him, taking over his chest.

“Had a hunch,” you shrug, grinning wider. “That, and I can see your helmet all the way from the kitchen.”

Your eyes drop to his side, and he follows suit. The snitch in question seems to be grinning back at him. 

You don’t tell him, however, that it had been only you who caught the revealing detail, nor that the only reason you caught it was because you are so used to looking for him no matter where you are, like a sixth sense. 

Instead, you chuckle, smiling so widely and hoping that he could tell everything he means to you just from that alone.

“Come inside, you dork,” he grins at you, dusty pink, and you chuckle, moving to the side to grant him entrance.

He settles into the rhythm you had established, a dance you are both familiar with. He dries the glasses you rinse, then puts them away. You pick up the pillows on the floor, pass them to him. He fluffs them, like you taught him to, and places them neatly on the couch. You stretch lazily, leaning your whole weight against him, and he rests his cheek on top of your head, his arms circling your waist. The two of you scan the living room in tandem.

The music is off, the speaker is resting safely on a shelf and the silence stretches for a little too long.

“So,” his voice is soft, with a teasing edge to it. You can feel it reverberating through his body as he gently, and almost imperceptible, rocks you side to side. Something’s coming. You hum anyway. “I heard you changed your hot girl walk route for me?”

“Oh, shut up!” you laugh, pulling away and slapping his arm gently. “Bet you would’ve done the same!”

He joins in on the laughter and follows after you like a puppy when you walk towards the bedroom, trying to pull you back in.

Most definitely, he thinks, you were gonna call him a hypocrite.

a/n. jason todd?? a hypocrite??? hopefully that will motivate me to write a some more and dive a little deeper into his hypocrisy (hypebole, he’s the sweetest) let me know what yall thought about this one!! but be kind bc im sensitive lol and if anyone has any idea about what i meant by hypocrite i would absolutely love to hear all your thoughts, ask box is always open <3

[waltzingphantoms]

run away, it’s divine jason todd gives reader a ride around Gotham

“No.”

“Baby.”

“I already said no.”

“Come on, don’t you trust me?”

“Jason there is absolutely no fucking way I’m getting on that devil instrument”

“[Name]”

You actually turned to look at him directly after he spoke your name so emotionally. While on a walk around Gotham, the both of you saw a couple riding a motorbike, and since then, he had become genuinely obsessed with the idea of you backpacking. He had tried before, multiple times, all during the relationship, but you still didn’t falter. It was not a phobia, but you felt your knees wobble at the thought of surging through cars and ongoing traffic without any strong form of protection, so you could say you were a bit terrified at the idea.

In a way, you felt a bit sad because you truly did want to understand all the hype around those rides everyone seemed to talk about, but being afraid of bikes probably didn’t help. Jason always did try his best to involve himself in whatever hobby you decided to indulge in, so you started to quietly reconsider it some weeks ago, after doing some research of you own.

But you couldn’t give in so quickly. Yet.

He had eyes that were begging silently for you to trust him, because you were aware that he would rather have an accident or get shot rather than you being scared of getting on a vehicle with him. Nonetheless, they were sparking with a little mischief: little did you know that he had realised that you were, in fact, not scared of riding his bike with him.

So, this whole conversation was more of a game of who would give in faster than the other.

Luckily for him, you made up your mind and with false worry in your eyes, you silently agreed to whatever he had schemed. Understanding perfectly, a wide grin stretched across his face as he began moving quickly all over his apartment getting ready all the equipment he got you some months ago, “Just in case, you’ll never know when you might want to go, baby”.

He began explaining excitedly the basics, like grabbing onto his waist and leaning to the side with him when he turns, and you watched with a small smile how excited he got over something so mundane. What you didn’t understand at the moment is how important that was for him: going for a ride in the bike he fixed and improved himself right after he arrived in Gotham, with his girl he pined for during a long, long time.

After quickly getting ready, you arrived at an alley where he had parked his crimson pride and joy beforehand, and despite wearing a helmet, the excitement of you both could be felt just in the way you carried yourselves to the place. He helped you get on the back of the bike, and he followed right after, getting on in front of you.

The sensation felt unknown, as you previously had never backpacked before, and in a way, it was very exposed but personal. Safe, even, as you knew that there is no way something could go wrong when he is in control of his precious bike. The motor began to rumble, and you wrapped your arms a bit tighter, as you did feel quite nervous, and he quickly grabbed your hands, trying to wordlessly calm you down.

You began to move, leaving the dark alley, moving into the road that surrounded Jason’s apartment as he swiftly cursed through the little traffic that existed at that hour. People leaving work from overtime, you thought, or maybe students exiting libraries after studying countless hours during the day. He wasn’t going that fast, and you could tell he was worried for your enjoyment of the experience and your overall wellbeing, but it was still faster than you expected.

Cursing swiftly through cars and traffic lights, the wind blowed on your back, making you feel a rush that felt as if you began to comprehend why Jason loves this. The constant roaring of the engine, the strong current pushing you forward, and the euphoria surging through your veins, you came to a halt on a traffic light that interrupted your train of thought.

He turned slightly to check up on you, and as if he could feel how hyped you were feeling though the tinted helmet, he gave you a soft tap to your knee lying on his side. You could see he was having a good time because after that quick stop he began to get touchier, either by wrapping his hands around yours resting on his waist, or by directly grabbing your knees whenever he could.

After near an hour strolling around the city, you decided that it was time to go back home and made your way to the alley from before. Feeling your heartbeat pulse in your chest, he helped you get off the helmet and the gear, taking off his only after.

Hair a mess, sparkle in your eyes, you were still sitting on top of the scarlet bike while he took off his gloves. You made eye contact, acknowledging the fact that this was something between the two of you: overcoming your tiny fear and trusting him so much that you made an effort to understand his passion, you knew that something had shifted in your relationship.

It was not loud or life-changing, but the way he wrapped himself around you that same evening proved how incredibly thankful he felt for being able to show that side of him to the girl he loved.

a/n: tbh i am still terrified of backpacking but i also can’t deny how cool it feels

[freakynad]

caught feelings, send help ft nanami kento.

old smau from my old account @/stillswoon, gonna be reposting my old work probably cause i actually wrote well uhh

[pearlyscenes]

heyyyyyy! *slides into dms* may i request a drabble with bruce wayne proposing to (y/n)? like the jason todd fic. because i absolutley adored your jason drabble. it was so incredibly sweet. i coulnt stop grinning while reading it. your writing is so cozy. ykyk? i want to read moreeeeeeee. i want to read some tooth rotting bruce fluff. i just love your writing style and could not help but ask. this is my first time requesting. so i am kind of nervous.

⁺༝ ꒰১ 𝒟𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠’𝐬 magical mailbox ໒꒱ ༝⁺: omg! my first anon letteeeeer. you have no idea how much this tiny milestone means to me! thank you so so much for your kind words anon. plus it only makes it even more speacial, that this is also your first request. gladly i will try to meet your wishes and write a tiny snippet. regarding the tooth rotting fluff: i think i kind off drifted into another direction story wise. sorry... anyways- here is your tiny story hihi <33 hope you will enjoy it, honey.

i tried my best hihi. please like and comment if you enjoy this tiny ficlet. anywayyyyssss ૮ ྀིᴗ͈ . ᴗ͈ ྀིა i should stop rambling.

₊꒷ ᨳ 𝒟𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠’𝐬 cozy snippet nook ₊˚⊹* 𐔌 . ⋮ 𝐭𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐭𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝒩𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝒮𝐭𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬 .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ ₊˚⊹* ₊⊹

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: Subsequent to Selina leaving him, even before walking down the aisle, Bruce ceased believing in his very own happy ever after for the Dark Knight. That is, until he met his very own Lampyridae, his sweet firefly, his Seirēn. A wonderful young woman who illuminated his seemingly gloomy and arcane labyrinthine path of self destructional vengeance, lucring him inro a sweet yet secret sanctuary. Now, brucce finally allowed his weary heart to fully embrace a new person, vowing never to let her go again. To offer her his last name, and with it, his entire weeping soul.

₊˚⊹* ₊⊹ 𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐧𝐞 x reader

warnings & tags .ᐟ: sfw. pure fluff. no use of y/n. written with fem! reader in mind. no reader description. maybe ooc? no beta reader. Bruce being all over the place. Bruce having a few dark thoughts (?). i did not know how to end this sorryyyy. wrote this till almost 4 am. could be trash haha. selina mentioned. selina still burned in Bruce's mind (not too positive tho). Still learning how to tag!!. English is not my first language.

a little sticky note .ᐟ: This is a little ficlet based on this post by the lovely sentrybites: "i saw someone saying on twitter about a woman who said that her boyfriend was so nervous when propose her that he forgot everything and ended up just getting on his knees saying “please”." you may find my original post (jason todd x reader) here .૮ ྀིᴗ͈ . ᴗ͈ ྀིა This time, I wrote directly in English instead of first drafting a rough sketch in my native language. I think I like it better this way; the text resembles my natural writing style much more closely.

word count: approx 1873

Ambrosia and citrus fruits hung in the air. Ice cream cones glided slowly down the ever warming pavements, the melting straberry and vanilla milky cream bleeding slowly along the cracks of the hot paving stone. For once , silence reigned at the lakeshores.

Even though the villa boasted a small private beach, teenagers would invariably hop the fence or clamber down the stone wall to party until dawn. "Il proprietario non c'è mai," they would hum whenever the Polizia peered over the fence.

"Let the young people enjoy their summer," she had said, just as he was on the verge of chasing the group away with a fine walking stick clutched in his fierce hand.

She was so lenient. He never understood why.

Windows flung wide open, an orchard of peach trees with wind chime breez through the leaves and branches shimmering with the early heat haze. A timeless oil-painting or polaroid-worn-away-at-the edges-with-fading-faces kind of beauty about this dream. It had to be one. Bruce Wayne was never lucky. This could not be real.

And her? Soft light spattered on her soft skin, her and her and her.

i want to live like this forever. I want to rip my teeth into this very moment and never let go. i want to feed on this very image. i want to die here.

Always intertwined, feeling the silken sheets shifting around us like white snakeskin as i sought for your body's warmth. Never quiet sated.

The golden light, filtered through the leaves, bathed her skin in gentle marble textures. Bruce traced curve after swirl, searching for those tiny imperfections in her skin that made her feel human. Less than the thalassic siren he saw within her.

Her muscles rippled in the same rhythm the gentle waves of the lake, soft, persistent, soft.

Bruce was scared. Scared that in this life, it would start raining the second he whispered her name into her ear. The second she called for him. Afraid that a storm would break, instead of time standing still, after they had kissed for the millionth time.

The house was filled with the smell of the last misshaped, sweet heavy, almost drunken peaches of the season. Slowly loosing shape from their ripeness. All summer long the peach-trees had begged to get picked. When their skin had still been plush, full of life as if frozen in them; smooth as marble.

Bruce pushed his nose into the back of her neck. Her warm, soft hair tickling his nose, while his lips savoured the faintly salty taste of her skin. He tried to purge the heavy ripe scent from his nostrils, trying to inhale her youthfulness. Hoping she was secretly not yearning for the light. That she did not feel as though her lips rested upon a fruit: a fruit that was scarcely lovable, less plump, and all too easily bruised.

He traced a tiny mole on her shoulder, sighing deeply. His eyes flickering towards an old bureau. Wooden vines adorned its otherwise simple form. Inside a tiny secret drawer lay a ring - cradled in silk and kept safe within a silver seashell jewelry box. A silver ring enclosing a genuine saltwater pearl, held fast by curving forms and filigree that evoked the beautiful, almost ethereal appearance of sea foam.

The ring of his mother. The ring of his father's mother. And hopefully soon the ring of his future children's mother.

Selina.

A name that haunted his mind like a ghost. He avoided mirrors, too afraid to catch the reflection of her cat like green eyes. Her gaze, staring back at Bruce like a blinding light in the darkness. Scars reminded him that Bruce Wayne would never find solace without becoming entangled in a web of hazy thoughts, thoughts he called love. Thoughts of straying from the righteous path of his predetermined, solitary road of vengeance, of abandoning the very safety of an already godforsaken city.

A name that had haunted him again for months, ever since a tiny green glimmer of hope had taken root in his heart. Hope for a more domestic life.

His spiraling thoughts were interrupted as she stirred beside him. The Bat blinked; his eyes felt dry after having zoned out for so long, his heavy eyelids unmoving. She turned over, still half-asleep, and buried her face against his bare chest. He felt her legs shift between his, yet she showed no sign whatsoever of waking up. "My sleeping beauty…" he murmured, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. He inhaled her scent and the light oil of her scalp.

"Hmmm... does my pretty lady want to grace her humble knight with her waking presence?", he sighed gruffly. His voice was laced with a heavy raspy note. Another sleepless night for the vengeful knight, she noted. The young woman felt him shift his head,and felt, once again, how he was staring at that damned table for the umpteenth time. She didn't even have to open her pretty eyes to sense that tense gaze.

She heard him think, zoning out agian, for a tiny second. He heard her mumbel before he could once again loose him again.

"No...", she breathed, her refusal barily audible. He let out a soft, throaty laugh and scattered a thousand kisses across her jawline and cheek. His two days worth of stubble pricking her delicate face. "Let me see your pretty eyes...", he mumbeled between kisses, gently cupping her cheeks with one large hand. His palm was deliciously rough from the work as a viligante and the rigorous training. The skin scarred from training all the different skills he now commanded.

She opened her eyes only a tiny slit, her long lashes brushing expectantly against her slightly squished tissue of her cheekbone. He purred with contentment, pursed his lips, and pressed a childlike kiss to her mouth. "My pretty little fawn… just look at you—so displeased, and your day hasn't even begun yet," he murmured.

He laughed again, as if his words had been immensely amusing.

"I'm sorry, little angel—I'm so sorry I woke you," he cooed tenderly, kissing first her eyelids, then her nose. "Forgive me, my little apple."

He had left the bed, tucked his beloved back snugly into the silken cocoon of their sheets, and then set off for the kitchen. Ready to brew coffee and bring back some pastries from the tiny bakery downtown. Just a few miles away from this villa. The young woman slowly sat up, her eyes staring, almost gawking at the bureau. She tried to figure out what Bruce could possibly have found so interesting there.

After all, she hadn't simply stumbled into the Batcave last winter just because she had bumped her head one too many times as a child. She pushed the duvet off her legs and crept slowly, on tiptoe, toward the piece of furniture. Hesitantly, she glanced toward the open double doors. She could smell the fresh aroma of Italian coffee being brewed over on the stove.

Her hands felt along the underside; her fingertips sensed every tiny irregularity, every little imperfection in the wood. Her index finger glided over a strange spot. She pressed against the wood, and a tiny compartment sprang open. With a soft click, the drawer slid out.

For a moment, she simply stared inside. Lying there was a small silver shell, nestled within the folds of pale silk. The morning light caught on its curves, making it gleam like something dredged from the bottom of the lake by a mermaid's careful hands.

Slowly, she reached for it. The shell felt cool in her palm. Older than the house. Older than summer. The hinge gave way with barely any resistance. And there it was, a ring. Not gaudy not enormous. Not the sort of thing displayed behind spotless glass windows on Fifth Avenue.

The pearl seemed alive. Cream-white and luminous, carrying the soft glow of moonlight trapped beneath water. Silver swirls held it in place, delicate and wild at once, like sea foam frozen by magic. Her thumb brushed over the metal.

The realization settled slowly within her. For several seconds she simply sat there on the floor, cross-legged before the bureau, holding the ring between her fingers as though it might disappear. The world outside continued uninterrupted.

The floorboards groaned softly. Bruce appeared in the doorway carrying a tray balanced awkwardly in one hand.

Bruce almost dropped the tray. The pure silver was not particularly heavy, nor because the polished wooden floor beneath his bare feet was uneven, but because the sight that greeted him as he stepped through the doorway struck him with the same strange, disorienting force as waking from a nightmare and realizing it had followed you into daylight.

His Darling sat on the cool floor before the bureau, the tin ysecret drawer open; and between ger fingers, caught in a shaft of golden morning sunlight that pouzred through the open windows and turned every speck of durst into drifting flecks of amber, rested the ring.

The ring he had carried across contonets, hidden away in safes, vaults and secret compartments, protecting it with care that bordered on reverence, because some small and embarrassingly hopeful part of him had knoen for years that if therfe was ever going to be a woman standing again beside him at the end of all things, then it would be her.

For one terrible moment, Bruce could only stare.

Months. Months of planning collapsed in on themselves like a wet paper card house. Sogging into one big clump.

The little island in the middle of the lake appeared before his eyes, the old castle perched upon it like something stolen from a fairytale, its stone walls glowing honey-gold at sunset. He remembered the owner laughing when Bruce had first approached him, convinced the billionaire was attempting to buy the property outright rather than merely borrow it for an evening. He remembered checking out flower shops, stupid decoration and bills of online shopping of fairylights, so high no one could actually imagine one would buy so many.

He puffed, feeling suddenly so unsure.

The speech- God the speech! Entire patrols had been spent composing it in his head. He had rewritten it while literally hanging upside down from gargoyles. Rewritten it while bleeding. Rewritten it while pretending to pay attention during board meetings. Every sentence carefully chosen. Every word measured.

Because there were things he wanted her to understand: That she had saved him. That he still woke up some mornings convinced she was going to disappear. That every dream he had ever dared entertain for himself somehow had her standing at the center of it.

And now she had found the ring while wrapped in a bedsheet. Like a magpie digging through cupboards after flying into a room through an open window.

The Bat nearly laughed, oh he almost wept. He stepped hesitantly towards her, sank to his knees , slowly taking her delicate hands, and kissed ever singly inch of them. The ring lay cradled between her hands. "Please…" he murmured amidst his adoration. His eyes closed as he murmured "Please" once more.

𝐂𝐎𝐏𝐘𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 © ℘ꫀꪖ᥅ꪶꪗ ꯱ׁׅ֒ᝯׁꫀׁׅܻꪀׁׅꫀׁׅܻ꯱ׁׅ֒ . please do not copy/steal/translate or train ai with my work — 2026.

[twis-world]

As much as I would utterly LOVE to think Jason would use the Lazarus Pit if the Reader ever died, I just don’t think he would actually have the strength to.

Every night he remembered the burning pain in his lungs, his chest, his very soul. The way he was stolen from death’s hands and shoved back into his broken body to be used and abused once more.

And you, his love. His fragile, sweet love who lay dead in his arms. It wouldn’t feel right to rip you away from your newfound peace like he was. To inflict the same suffering that he would only wish upon his worst enemies.

So, instead, he would give you the burial he had taken from him. He would dig your grave with his own hands and gently lay you to rest with the flowers you oh so loved. And while nonreligious, after what he’s been through, he would find himself praying to any god that you would never be disturbed.

[paperellina]

distracting toji while he's on the phone...♡ (rough!toji x sweet!fem reader)

tojis halfway through a phone call when you climb onto the couch beside him, immediately curling into his side while he keeps talking, one arm stretched across the back of the cushions behind you and his phone pressed to his ear.

its something about money, something about work, something thats got his brows pulled together while he listens with that oh so familiar rough expression.

"yeah, I heard you," he mutters "then tell 'im I aint payin extra."

meanwhile, youre completely occupied with him.

your fingers find the side of his hair first, gently combing through the shorter strands near his temple while your cheek rests against his shoulder. toji keeps listening while you continue absent mindedly playing with him. your hand drifts lower, tracing the line of his jaw before finding his collar, smoothing it down and then fiddling with it again for no reason other than you just felt like touching it.

"because that aint what we agreed on." he says into the phone, voice steady despite the fact youve now moved on to his hands.

you turn one of them over in your lap, running your thumb along old scars and rough knuckles, tracing every line in his skin with a quiet concentration while the conversation continues.

the man on the other end keeps talking, and toji tries listening.

then your fingers slide to the rolled sleeves of his top, adjusting them before trailing slowly down his forearm, following the muscle there with light touches that dont mean much to you and mean everything to him.

his jaw tightens slightly. "yeah," he mutters into the phone, "mhm"

by now youve found his hand again, interwining your fingers with his, turning them, tracing the shape of his thumb while leaning a little more heavily into his side.

youre not even looking at him, youre just happy sitting there, all soft and sweet, quietly occupying yourself with whatever part of him happens to be within your reach.

the silence on the other end of the call stretches.

"...you still there?" the guy asks.

toji blinks once, realizing he hasnt heard a godamn thing for the last minute. his eyes drop to you where youre curled against him, happily playing with his fingers while resting your cheek on his shoulder.

"yeah." he says "keep talkin."

but his free hand is already settling over yours, thumb brushing across your knuckles while he looks down at you for a second longer than necessary, then he leans over and presses a rough distracted kiss against the top of your head without interrupting the call, squeezing your hand once before settling back into the couch.

toji still isnt listening to the man on the phone, not with you tucked into his side playing with his hair, his sleeves, his hands, every soft little touch way too distracting.

taglist: @@jjakeysheart @rkivesvs7 @c6choso @shea354 @kiwicherry04 @choco-chipp @tojibunnyy @tojisgdgirl @xoxocherrybabyy @dearwyn @pigtaileddolliee @tojiful @heartcandyslxt @lisabelhyhn @chaeisrichnow @chewiebee @tojisfiancee @retiredpanda @bbvvvy @princesplatano @jaehyunsleftnut @lightandfuryauthor @fysalia @alinacoke @ssrist @bl1ndv3lvet @lisa200976 @vheartsfushi @amarislovesmcdonalds @1ana22 @cherrieslovess @arcanehellokittyforlife69 @lov-3-x @str4wb3rrylife @whoiskaykay @sugurusbun @tojioppshotta @yumyumyu @yvesapple4 @733164 @peonysecret @pr1ncessthug @magicalpeenpoo @unknownowlbokutoswifeyy @eepynataly @bowiesprettieststar2 @bagleaf @lacedwithsarcasm @wholemeltt @ipoopedmypants47

© 2026 paperellina - all rights reserved. do not plagiarise, translate, or feed into any form of ai.

[ghxstrobins]

She’s so out of your league

Summary - Dick and you have been dating for a couple months so he decides to start telling his family, with your permission, while you are off world. Only no one believes him. Thus begins a month of Dick trying and failing to convince a family of detectives that he has a girlfriend.

Event Masterlist

"Do you have to go?" Dick whines and flops back onto your bed dramatically next to you.

"Sadly I can't blow off an incoming space war for you." You laugh and push at his shoulder. "I will hopefully be back in about a month."

He sighs, letting his head lean back against the pillow so he can stare up at your ceiling, "I wish you didn't have to be so absent lately."

The humor on your face melts away into something softer as you fix some of his curls that have fallen into his face. He looks over at you with a longing that has sat in his chest for years.

"I asked for more time off so hopefully I will start working closer to home. After that I will be around more and I can finally meet your family properly."

The prospect of you being around more often makes him giddy but you meeting his family makes him a little nervous. 

They are going to love you, he knows because Dick loves you. The problem was that he would most likely never have alone time with you ever again. 

"I will let them know about us while you are gone so they can be eased into it." Dick decides aloud. 

You give him a smile that makes him feel like he just won the lottery, "I am excited to meet them and the other Lanterns probably want to give you a shovel talk, especially Guy and Hal."

Dick can't help but roll his eyes at that, "They can't scare me, I'm not even scared of Batman."

"Maybe but they feel the need to so don't laugh at them too hard." You laugh and kiss his cheek.

Once you have left with the rest of the lanterns, and Hal and Guy have threatened him sufficiently, he decides to begin the process of telling his family. 

Dick tells Bruce first, knowing his mentor would appreciate not being kept in the dark. He stays behind one night after patrol when everyone else is gone. Bruce calls him out on his constant fidgiting and Dick tells him the truth.

He gets a hum in response. Usually it would be a grunt of acknowledgement or something like that but instead he gets a hum that sounds extremely skeptical. 

Dick narrows his eyes at him and doesn't call him out on it, just files it away for later.

One by one he pulls his family aside to tell them about you and each time he is either looked at with confusion or, in Jason's case, laughed at hysterically for ten minutes. 

He doesn't know what is going on. Are they collectively pranking him? Have they all gone insane? Has he gone insane? 

You are still off world so he feels particularly down as he stands on a rooftop over looking Gotham. He feels terribly like Bruce as he broods while the city moves below him. 

"Nightwing." Bruce greets as he lands on the rooftop, followed by Jason and Damian.

Jason gives him a two fingered salute while Damian nods in his direction. 

"Batman, Red Hood, Robin." Dick greets. "What do you need from me?"

"We need your help on a case-" Bruce starts and Dick immediately crosses over to their side of the roof, ready to help.

Bruce goes to continue talking but a bright streak of pink light illuminates the night sky. 

Dick is almost knocked over by how fast you hug him, it knocks some of the air out of his lungs. As soon as he registers what is happening he hugs you back.

"Baby!" You float a little off the ground as you hold him. "I missed you so much!"

"I missed you to." Dick says with a soft smile.

You release him and he remembers that Bruce, Damian and Jason are still there. 

Dick's smile turns to a self satisfied smirk. 

"This is my partner." He looks smug as they all are in various states of shock.

"Hi!" You wave cheerfully at them, unaware of his uphill battle of getting his family to believe him.

"I thought you made it up Richard," Damian regains his ability to speak first. "She is very out of your league."

Dick groans in frustration while you hold back laughter. 

He wishes he never told his family about you.

Blue’s notes - Star Sapphire reader how I love you 💕 also this idea is hilarious to me.

[magikcheese3]

Bring your parents to school day

Jason Todd x Reader

Synopsis: Just Jason being a girl dad hehe

Jason Todd Masterlist Main Masterlist

----------

"Daddy, can you come to my school for take your parent to school day?" your daughter's sweet voice rang out from the dining table, paired with coffee being spat onto the floor.

You were standing in the kitchen with Jason beside you who was holding a cup of coffee in one hand, while wiping his mouth with the other His green eyes wide in surprise that you were trying hard to stifle the laugh that was bubbling up your throat.

"Uh, what was that peanut?" Jason asked, glaring at you slightly as you shrugged at him.

"I said," answered your daughter only this time, small footsteps came stomping into the kitchen. Small fists clenched by her sides as she looked up at her dad with a pout. "Come to my school for take your parent to school day!"

Jason blinked once. Twice.

Then he looked at you, looked back at your daughter, and finally set his coffee mug down before he could commit any further crimes against the kitchen floor.

"Take your parent to school day?" he repeated carefully.

"Yes!" your daughter threw her hands into the air as if she couldn't believe he wasn't keeping up. "Everybody gets to bring a parent to school."

A smile tugged at your lips, eyes softening at the sight of your daughter mildly frustrated. "I think she means bring your parent to school day." You whispered, nudging Jason with your shoulder.

"That's what I said!" she blurted.

Jason chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest.

"No, peanut, you definitely didn't. You said taking your parent to school."

"No I didn't!"

"Did too."

"Didn't."

"Did too!"

"Daddy!" your daughter yelled, tears welling in her eyes that reminded you so much of Jason.

Speaking of Jason, he was already crouching down to the floor the moment the tears started to appear. Hands placed on her tiny shoulders as his thumb brushed her cheek.

"Hey, hey, hey." Jason's voice softened immediately, all traces of teasing gone. "There's no need for that."

A tear slipped down her cheek despite her best efforts to hold it back. Sniffling softly as she rubbed her eyes.

"You were making fun of me," she mumbled.

Jason's face fell, lips pressed into a thin line.

"Oh, peanut." He gently tipped her chin up so she'd look at him. "I wasn't making fun of you. I was teasing you."

"That's the same thing."

"It is not."

"It is too."

Jason immediately glanced up at you for help, looking completely betrayed when you failed to hide your smile.

"Mommy?" he asked dramatically.

You shook your head, ruffling his dark hair. "You got yourself into this mister."

"Wow, always knew you only used me for my looks."

"Watch it Todd, or I might have to tell our daughter here what really happened to the cookie dough ice cream last week." you warned with amusement.

Exhaling sharply through his nose, Jason let his head fall for a moment -shoulders slumped - before gazing up at your daughter again. "Alright, throw me the details. When is it?"

"It's next Friday."

"What time?"

"After recess."

"Will we be reading?"

"Yup!"

"Finger painting?"

She nodded excitedly.

"What about...Math." Jason groaned mockingly.

"Of course!"

"Oh, but what if daddy isn't very good at math?"

Your daughter shook her head, cupping his face with hands that barely covered even half his cheek.

"Don't worry, I'll help you!" She reassured him. "So will you come?"

Jason smiled, tucking her hair behind her ear as he responded without hesitation. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

Your daughter's entire face lit up.

"Really?"

"Really." Jason nodded. "I'll even do the math."

She giggled, throwing her arms around his neck so hard he nearly lost his balance.

"Whoa!" He laughed, holding her tightly. "Careful there. Daddy's not as young as he used to be."

"I know! That's why you have white hair right here." your daughter stated, pointing at the white strand at the front of his hair.

"...You little traitor."

[probablyboredx]

white streak (jason todd x reader)

summary; jason constantly avoids telling you where his white streak came from, or when he does, he makes something up

masterlist

The first time you asked about the white streak in Jason’s hair, he told you he was just born with it. A birth defect.

The second time, he said it was a fashion choice. That he dyed it.

The third time, now, he looked you dead in the eye and said “Got struck by lightning.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

“I’m a creative liar.”

You snorted from your spot on the couch, legs thrown over his lap while he cleaned one of his guns at the coffee table. The apartment smelled faintly like gun oil and takeout. Jason glanced at your feet with visible annoyance.

“You’re wearing mismatched socks.”

“You noticed?”

“I notice everything.”

There was no arrogance in the statement. That was the problem. Jason noticed everything. The lock that often got stuck on your apartment door. The fact you hated bits in orange juice. Which floorboards creaked. Which movies made you cry even when you swore they didn’t.

He noticed when you skipped meals. When you were tired. When your smile looked forced. But whenever the conversation turned toward him, he slipped away from it. 

You reached over before he could stop you, fingers brushing through the white streak near his temple. He froze. Not dramatically. The kind of stillness that came from someone who spent their life prepared to react to every little thing.

“You always do that,” you murmured.

“Do what?”

“Go statue mode when people touch your hair.”

“I do not.”

“You absolutely do.”

Jason muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like shut up. You smiled a little and kept your hand there. Carefully. Giving him time to pull away if he wanted. He didn’t. Your fingers slid through the white streak again, softer this time.

“So what’s the real story?”

“The lightning?”

Jason kept his attention on the gun in his hands.

“That is the real story.”

“Mm-hm.”

“You expect me to believe that?”

“Could happen.”

“To you specifically?”

“I’m very unlucky.”

You laughed under your breath. “Jason.”

There it was again, that pause. He set the gun down on the table with a soft clink.

“When I was younger,” he started slowly, “something happened. And after that…” He shrugged one shoulder. “The streak showed up.”

You waited. He wasn’t good at this part, you knew that. Jason could fight six armed men without blinking, but honesty sat inside him like a live grenade.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

Your chest tightened. Not because of the words themselves, but because of how quietly he said them. Jason rarely talked about pain like it mattered. Most of the time he acted like pain was expected.  Your thumb brushed lightly against his temple.

“I know,” he paused, “It hurt.”

“I’m sorry.”

His jaw flexed. “For the streak?”

“For whatever caused it.”

People saw Red Hood and flinched. People saw Jason Todd and expected sharp edges, anger, violence. You looked at him like he was something fragile. It unsettled him every single time.

Jason looked at you then. Really looked at you. Like he was trying to figure out what to do with the fact that you meant it.

“You know,” he said eventually, voice rougher now, “you ask a lotta questions.”

“And you avoid answering all of them.”

“Works pretty well for me.”

“Not really.”

A reluctant smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. You leaned closer, studying the streak again with exaggerated seriousness. “I still think the lightning story had potential.”

“Yeah?”

“Very tragic. Very mysterious.”

“I am mysterious.”

“You alphabetize your bookshelves.”

“That has nothing to do with mystery.”

“You own three different jackets that are exactly the same.”

“They are not exactly the same.”

“You’re emotionally attached to a tire iron.”

“That’s different.”

You grinned when he rolled his eyes. For a moment he just looked at you again. Then his hand came up, warm against your ankle where your legs rested across him.

“You really don’t care?” he asked quietly.

“About the streak?” He nodded once. 

You frowned. “Jason, I think you could show up with glowing red eyes and fangs and I’d still make you help me carry groceries.”

A startled laugh escaped him before he could stop it. And there it was. That sound. Rare enough that it always felt important. 

Your expression softened. “I like it, anyway.”

“The streak?”

“Mm-hm.”

Jason shook his head a little, like he didn’t understand you. Maybe he didn’t. But he caught your hand before you could pull it away from his hair, holding it there for another second longer than necessary. And that told you enough.

[lilithkleia]

toji has a little secret !!

toji fushiguro was never not tired. he always had bags underneath his eyes, his hair was always disheveled, and there was never a time he looked put together in university. which was strange considering he was mostly older than the other people there.

and group projects were the bane of his existence. and having been paired with you—the girl who insisted on getting to know him despite his notorious reputation, with absolutely zero intentions of minding your own business, he knew he was doomed the second you’d set foot in his apartment.

in hindsight, he should’ve offered to go to your place—you’d made some excuse saying your roommates had band practice and that’d it’d be too loud to focus so his place it was.

you rang the doorbell, giddy, because you’d finally been given the opportunity to get to know toji handed to you.

but poor toji, having his mind entirely clouded, had completely forgotten you’d be coming over, opening the door with megumi swaddled in his arms while he wailed at the top of his lungs.

“hey toji—oh.”

“oh. you were coming over today.”

“is that—”

“yeah it’s my brat.”

of all the theories you’d made up in your brain, toji having a little chubby baby with a temper was not one of them.

“is your girlfriend or wife home—”

“don’t have one.”

“m sorry.”

it was awkward painfully so, the only noises filling up the silence was megumi trashing around in toji’s arms while throwing a fit.

“do you mind if i—”

he dropped megumi into your arms almost instantly, moving to collapse onto his couch, groaning into his hands like the world was crushing him.

you slowly cooed at megumi, humming him a song you remembered from your childhood while megumi babbled on, slowly blinking while sleep started to take him over.

“ma…ma..mama” he tried to babble, his tiny arms trying to reach your face, grabbing at the air while trying to squish your cheeks.

“oh i’m not—nevermind.” you continued to sway him, slowly sitting at the edge of the couch while toji tried to fight off sleep, staring at you with a look in his eyes that was almost tender while you put megumi to sleep.

“you need to get some rest too toji, you look like a ghost.”

“you aren’t gonna tell anyone about this right.”

“my lips are sealed.”

“thank you.”

“get some sleep, the project can wait.”

megumi was fast asleep in your arms, toji curled up by your side, softly snoring, the two black haired men slumbering as if they’d never been graced with sleep before. of all the secrets he could’ve kept, you never imaged that he had a whole kid he somehow managed to take care of while no one knew about it. and you’d made a silent promise to help him out. besides, it took a village to raise a child right?

and who wouldn’t want to spoil a little pudgy baby and have a greek god of a man curl up next to you like a cat? megumi already seemed to think you were his mom anyway, it wouldn’t hurt to help just a little.

more fluff. last drabble for now until i actually write

all works belong to @lilithkleia, do NOT copy, translate or feed to AI. lest you wish upon toji’s worm to crawl up your ass.