hello angels ! im Faith (not really), im finaalllly making one of these intros for my page but this will probably be very short so if you want more details i have them on my spacehey which is in my links! .𖥔 ݁ ⋆
.𖥔 ݁ ⋆ Val , 𝒮he/ℋer
.𖥔 ݁ ⋆ Bisexual !
.𖥔 ݁ ⋆ history and literature enthusiast ~
.𖥔 ݁ ⋆ intp aaaand a scorpio
.𖥔 ݁ ⋆ raging feminist aaand a constant elon n trump hater !
.𖥔 ݁ ⋆ i genuinely suck ass in maths 🥀
.𖥔 ݁ ⋆ pinterest whore
𝐃𝐍𝗜: racists, homophobes, transphobes, fascists, zionists, men over 18 and anything related.
ℒistening to... lana del rey, jack off jill, deftones, hole, jeff buckley, the beatles, the smiths, stray kids, itzy, aespa, new jeans, xg, clairo, pink pantheress, fiona apple, liz phair, alex g, tv girl, beadadobee, laufey, mitski, arctic monkeys, lady gaga, the marias, frank ocean, frank sinatra, tyler the creater, blur, the goo goo dolls, the nbd, david bowie, mazzy star, ayesha erotica, doja cat and A LOT more
𝒫laying... the sims 4/3, resident evil, sillent hill, rdr, cod mw, minecraft, cry of fear, fnaf, honkai star rail, Arkham knights, chilla arts games, final fantasy, alice in wonderland, omori aaand roblox..
ℐnterests... Dc like a crazy amount, grew up as a gacha kid n raised on fnaf, i really like cinema and art ! im akshually also jason todds wife (he just doesnt know it yet), i also like kdramas i've been getting into action ones like one high school heroes and weak hero, and my favorite kdrama was probably welcome to samdal-ri :) also extremely raised on lana 🧎🏻♀️
he isn't in love, so don't get mixed up in the rumors. unless you're roy harper, in which you may observe the red hood get a little dazed by the sight of his not-girlfriend. you are beauty, you are grace, and jason todd is pink in the face.
⟢ jason todd x fem nurse reader, roy being nosy, clubbing at the iceberg lounge, hopeless silly crushing from jay, 3k wc
IT STARTS WITH A FULL CABINET. And not just any cabinet—a medicine cabinet, stocked to the brim with unused gauze, rolls of loose weave neatly packed into a shelf. The chipped interior provides a stark background for a number of other suspicious things, too.
Still-sealed suture packets. Two bottles of ibuprofen, both full. And get this: a long accordion-string of antibiotic ointment that hits the floor when Roy unfurls it. None of the serrated edges are ripped.
Hell, it looks brand new.
Call him paranoid for assuming, but a full medicine cabinet in Jason Todd's apartment is infinitely suspicious. It might be arguable that he's just recently stocked up...if it weren't for the thin layer of dust that's settled over everything.
It also could mean that the rumors are true.
Of course, when Roy brings it up, rolls of gauze clutched into the crook of his elbow, Jason just works his jaw with one hand in his hair, the other scribbling in red Sharpie.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Jason drawls, face steeled to perfection. He doesn't even look up, too busy brooding down at the spread of documents and maps pinned down by several empty cans of Coke; a few drops of sweet, dark soda stain the papers.
“You know, I heard from a little Robin,” Roy sings, sauntering over and dumping the gauze onto the small table—one roll bounces onto the floor and off Jason’s slippers, “that you have a girl.”
Gotcha. Wind had reached Roy from Donna, who had heard from Wally, who had heard from Dick, who had so on and so forthed until the rumor could be traced back to a certain grumpy, spiky-haired sidekick who claims to have seen the second Robin dreamily admiring a nurse as she patched him up on the floor of her apartment.
That makes Jason look up. A shadow crosses his face, one that makes an odd kind of shiver tickle at Roy’s nape. It’s the same kind of look that comes when things go sideways or shit blows up when it isn’t supposed or when Batman does something that really sets him off.
(But like father, like son. The way Jason is practically glaring at that loose-leaf pile of shit looks just like those old photos of B sent to a long-destroyed phone. Courtesy of Dick, who always has a field day spamming the Titans’ defunct, triple-encrypted groupchat when he happens to be back in Gotham.)
And then Jason looks to the pile of little, unused rolls spilled across the table. Like—really looks at them, as if it’s the first he’s ever heard of gauze. Then he tilts his head and stares at Roy, mouth pressed into a razor-thin line.
“Really?” Jason says, brows lifting like he’s totally disinterested. Then he points a finger at himself, really humored. “You think I have a girlfriend? ‘Cause what, I'm well stocked, or Damian said so?”
Roy narrows his eyes, hands immediately coming up in defense. “I never said it was Damian.”
“Just giving an example.”
Jason shrugs—too casual to be innocent—but Roy’s already caught on long before that. The little flicker of ‘oh, shit’ across his face, the slightest thread of apprehension shooting through his deeply furrowed brow.
Perks of being a deadeye: you catch all the shit everyone else misses.
So. That little gremlin was telling the truth about seeing his adopted brother—or however the hell their relationship works—sneaking into a girl’s apartment and being all lovey-dovey with her even though he’s literally a menace to the city.
And a menace to Roy, because Jason’s ticking jaw is starting to look like he’s on the edge of flipping the damn table.
"Alright." Roy concedes despite the nagging itch in his head. Jason Todd is lying. "If you say so."
"That's what I thought."
—
Contrary to Jason's (likely) belief, things don't end at the medicine cabinet. In fact, that had just been the start.
The next revelation comes when they’re supposed to be infiltrating the Iceberg Lounge for a business exchange between a mysterious broker and the Penguin—back from a brief stint in jail, again, much to Jason and everyone else’s chagrin.
This is a no-mask occasion, just to play the harmless civilian and not get a beatdown from the bouncers.
It’s loud inside the lounge, a heavy bass beat thrumming at such a strength that Roy is wary to even brush up against the walls. The soles of his boots stick to the floor, gummy in the way only nightclubs can be; the air is soaked with the scent of sweat and booze. He’s already flicked his shades on and pushed them all the way up to his eyelashes, but the strobe lights flashing through the nightclub still need squinting to get through.
Thus, he almost misses Jason’s hand tapping on his shoulder, too busy shrugging off the hot press of clubbers swarming the floor.
Roy turns, raising his eyebrows at his partner. He gets the feeling that this is a little strange, being on a mission bare faced with a stupid Gotham U shirt and a half-broken comm chip in the ear. Jesus, he looks and feels like a frat guy despite being a decade too old.
Jason doesn’t seem to mind though, dressed in a thin, maroon hoodie that does nothing to hide his shoulders, and grey jeans. Casual, in a nonchalant way. The I’m a frat who just threw on whatever and I’m ready to get sloshed way.
His hand is still incessantly tapping on Roy’s shoulder, not really aware that they’re already facing each other, Roy expectant and ready to listen.
“Hell-o?”
“Oh.” Jason blinks, seemingly snapped out of it. There’s a sort of far-off look in his eyes, mouth barely parted, like he’s just seen a ghost and he’s trying to hide it. His gaze darts around, but it’s inevitably drawn to the blue-neon shelves on a back wall.
Slow to say, tongue wetting his bottom lip, “I’ll take the bar.”
Roy huffs, crossing his arms. “Alright. I’ll take the floor.”
They both nod to themselves, though Jason looks very satisfied that he’s gotten what he wanted. Usually, they flip a coin or play rock-paper-scissors or use whatever is on hand at the time to decide scouting positions.
Like that one time, with the water bottle. They had spent so long trying to get it to land upright that they almost missed their cue.
But that’s a story for another night, because Jason is peeling away and making quick strides to the bar. He slides into an empty stool to the left of a woman, leaning his elbow on the counter with a small smile.
Roy posts up against a wall on the opposite side of the bar, eyes roving. There’s a suspicious-looking guy in the far corner—a black suit type, slicked back hair and shiny laced loafers swimming with a leather-warped reflection of the strobe lights. The man is nursing a glass of whiskey, dark amber liquid turned to pitch when the music switches up.
He scoots closer for a better look at their potential broker, and then he catches a glance of Jason at the bar, still talking to...
Oh, shit.
The screenshot passed around hero communications like a virus resurfaces in Roy’s mind. Sure, she’s wearing a cute outfit and some makeup instead of soft sleep clothes, but it’s unmistakable.
Jason Todd is talking up his not-girlfriend in the Iceberg Lounge during a mission.
People’s eyes bugging out of their sockets used to be an impossible concept, and yet. Here he is, helpless on the other side of the club as all the little pieces click together and catch up to him.
The hardly used medical supplies. The ‘oh, shit’ look. The fact that Jason lied to Roy’s face.
You smile in that teasing, kind of girly way you did in Damian’s leaked screenshot, much to Jason’s apparent enjoyment. He leans the side of his head on his left fist, that elbow in turn balanced on the bar top.
Transfixed, Jason watches your hands move as you explain the mentality behind the designated driver role, how your day went, and say something that sounds like: it was super chaotic, but I can’t really say more ‘cause of HIPPA, so…
Wait.
Roy can hear you.
He has to laugh softly to himself when he realizes. Fuck, Jason is so whipped that he isn’t aware of the fact that propping his head up has activated their comm chip.
Not so much of a tough guy now, it seems.
Keeping an eye on the could-be broker, Roy presses his earpiece in a little deeper and plugs his other ear to block out most of the club’s thrumming noise.
“Anyway,” you say, and even though Roy can’t see it, he knows you’re grinning wide. “What do you do, stranger?”
Roy’s eyes flick to the ceiling, but only for a fractured second ‘cause the lights are starting to give him a headache. Of course you don’t know his civilian identity.
“Uh—” and there’s that telltale sound of Jason wetting his lips “—you could call me Jay. I’m…a fixer.”
Funny. Fixer is quite a versatile word, it seems.
You laugh in a tone Roy has only heard when a girl looks down and brushes her hair away. “Is it weird that I kind of guessed? I dunno, you just look like a guy who’s good with his hands.” And then a little faster, earnest, “I’m so sorry, Jay, that came out—”
“No, no,” Jason is quick to interject, “I appreciate it.”
“Is it weird that I think you’re a great guy after talking for five minutes?” you ask after a moment. For the briefest second, Roy manages a peek over to the bar—you’re mirroring Jason’s pose, except the hand you aren’t resting your chin on is tracing the rim of a crystal water glass. You smile, close-mouthed, and he gets it. Gets why Jason is so drawn to you (even if Roy doesn’t feel the beckon himself).
It’s a kind look about you. An open flame, ready to warm. You look at people without expectation, and knowing Jason, that’s big. He doesn’t have to be the Big Bad or the sweet, martyred Robin for you.
You know the cabinetry of Jason’s body so well already, and most of all, you know him at his most vulnerable. Blue-green doe eyes, sweat-matted hair, hydrangea-bloom bruises—the whole works.
You stand for everything Jason protects in the world: the raw, unfiltered good.
Roy snaps back to what he’s supposed to be watching right as Jason ekes out a rough chuckle.
“Sounds like you have some assholes in your life. Need a hand?” Jason says it in the stilted, fish-out-of-water way he always does when he’s trying to flirt without fulfilling the half-dead requirement first.
At arm’s length, quivering for the chance to come closer. Like two poles on a magnet, rejection and attraction.
(Mhmm, an asshole, Roy thinks, I wonder who. He feels like putting his head in his hands and screaming.)
Giggling like you’re kind of drunk and aren’t the designated driver, “It’s just one. Well, kind of—he’s…a guy who shows up sometimes.” A pause, as if you’re thoughtfully tonguing the next words into your cheek. “He’s a fixer too, in a different way, but I think he’s really sweet under all that meanness.”
Jason hums, considerate and falsely sympathetic. “I’m sure he’ll come around someday.”
(This fucking dickwad just loves to play in everyone’s faces.)
“Sorry,” you breathe for the second time tonight, “you just have this really reassuring feeling, but I don’t wanna put my troubles on you.”
“Well, I did technically start this,” Jason says, and for the first time in what feels like forever, he has the gall to sound sheepish. Roy almost can’t believe his ears.
“Right, right,” you agree, that smiley sound in your voice again. Then you pitch it down, mimicking, “Rough day? Looks like you’ve seen some shit.”
“That’s—I don’t sound like that.”
(Agree to disagree. You’re pretty good with Jason’s tone.)
Scoffing in amusement, you tease, “You do.”
“Even if I did, you definitely practiced that,” he says. It’s in a fake-nonchalant voice that Roy can instantly pinpoint even through the shitty Bluetooth connection and the club’s deafening EDM slop. Jason really is defying all expectations tonight.
You hum, “I might’ve picked it up from a certain guy. Can’t help it—you have the same accent.”
That gives Jason pause, if only for a moment. The cylinders in his brain are probably firing at maximum power. “That’s...impressive.”
Roy wipes a rough hand over his eyes. God, can this guy’s game get any worse?
Chewing the inside of his cheek, Roy considers picking up a better job than people-watching. For example: right now, he could be building a crazy spaceship to take him to a planet far, far from Earth and Jason’s hopeless situation.
A flicker of movement catches his eye. Approaching the broker is one of the Penguin’s bodyguards—Roy remembers him from the last encounter they had with the crime lord. He’d whipped his bow into the guard’s nose.
Still looks like that nasty break hasn't healed well.
Slipping a deft hand into the back pocket of his jeans, he pulls out a vape. At least, that’s what the bouncers thought it was when they patted him down.
Roy disassembles it, and a little silver pipe slides into his palm. It’s warm against his skin. A mini blowgun is definitely not his ideal weapon, but a guy’s gotta do what he’s gotta do.
And now, that’s to shoot a tiny bug onto the broker’s jacket.
The man is already mid-escort to the stairwell that leads to the more private lounge, flanked on the right by the bodyguard. It's a tough shot, and it’s dark and noisy and stuffy as hell in the club, but it’s also Roy Harper who’s doing this.
(Duh, it’s in the name. Arsenal, former protégé of Green Arrow, anyone?)
Slotting the pipe between his lips, he waits for the perfect moment. In a dense, obstructed club like this one, the stars would have to align for him to make the shot.
He does anyway, the tiny listening dart flying across the room and latching onto the broker’s shoulder.
Pat on the back, Roy Harper, he thinks, mission well done.
—
“She looked kind of familiar,” Roy teases as they stroll out of the club, almost singing.
The thudding bass is still audible, even from the other side of the doors, and his ears will probably be ringing for another week. Not that he needs them to maintain his stellar aim, but how will he listen to Dick’s incessant voice messages about his recent round of stalking Jason’s not-girlfriend's LinkedIn?
Their feet are light on the concrete, only making a greater degree of sound when they briskly traverse the many puddles plaguing Gotham.
Case in point: Lake Glenn, named after Glenn Avenue, where a twelve-foot-long, shallow concrete basin of stale rainwater is slowly colonizing the remaining sidewalk. It reeks of piss and sour dick, too.
Meanwhile, Jason seems eerily at peace. They cross the street to avoid the pond of pee, and he’s got his hands stuffed in the pockets of his faded jeans.
He dodges a whirlwind of litter—it curls into a ball and bounces down the sidewalk like fucking tumbleweed—with a pep in his step. One block over, a patrol car wails out a single chirp, and Jason doesn’t pay any mind.
Roy has never seen a smile linger this long on his partner’s lips, and it almost looks uncanny.
He seriously considers grabbing the other man and howling: who are you and what have you done to my best friend’s little brother?
Jason Todd does not walk with a bouncy gait. He doesn’t stick his hands in his pockets, where the confinement can double the time needed to grab the nearest weapon. And it’s certainly more-than-irregular to ignore a police siren and keep a faint smirk of anything but smugness on his face for more than five minutes.
Diana H. Themyscira, he’s in love and he’s stupid with it.
Instead, Roy just slips back into his practiced nonchalance and truthfully remarks, “Seems like a good person.”
“She is.”
The answer is curt. Stony. No room for questions, but boy, does Roy have questions.
And since when has he paid any mind to social conventions?
Naturally, he must keep pushing. “Alright, I can excuse blatant flirting on the job, but dancing?”
Jason grimaces, finally wiping off that disgustingly fond expression on his face. “We didn’t—”
“Dude, you don’t even try to defend yourself—I saw you grinding on her like a lovey-dovey teenage boy with both of my deadeyes.”
The chilly, damp air of the city does nothing to disguise the way his ears bloom with a dusty pink. The Red Hood may be able to school his face, but he still can’t control the involuntary rush of blood to his ears.
Roy almost coos at the adorable observation, but he rather likes the shape of his nose right now.
Anyways, the thought is quickly overwritten by the sheer regret of witnessing how Jason’s fingers twitched when you guided them to grasp your waist on the dance floor. How his blue-green eyes sat at half-mast and dinner-plate dilated when he pulled your hips to his. How his lips had grazed the shell of your ear, whispering things that made your movements more desperate as you strayed from the pounding beat.
Or how Jason, with a furrow of utter shame between his brows, definitely adjusted the fit of his clothing—specifically his jeans—after you kissed his cheek and bid a wistful, starry-eyed farewell because your friends needed you to step up as the designated driver.
Said horny fool only scoffs, but a quiet smirk of amusement (holy shit, Roy just unlocked a new emotion) dawns on his face, and the sweet rays gradually brighten his gloomy countenance until the soft pink blush in his ears begins to warm his cheeks, too.
And with it comes the slow, sweet creep of realization over Jason’s soldier-like posture.
There’s that lovey-dovey look.
“Yeah,” Jason admits after that moment of reluctance, flicking his still-dilated gaze to a rare patch of starlight glimmering in Gotham’s cloudy sky. He lingers on the pretty sight, the rigidity in his shoulders melting slightly as newfound fondness swims in his eyes. “Maybe we did that.”
notes: this is a continuation of part 1 where damian spies on jason & reader (and is sickened by the yearning) !! also rec checking out my much ado about luv event for some upcoming dc fics <3
bsf! jason todd x fem!reader, You like making him do your work and he has no objections. No he is NOT being held on gunpoint.
With summer starting, the one thing you look forward to is finally here. Summer vacation.
You were sitting soon scrolling on Pinterest at random stuff to cure yourself out of boredom, while your holiday homework drafted notes were all layered out, with scribbled notes and markers of the important parts, and random doodles you, Jason and your friends made mid class—speaking of Jason, you were just about to text him to bring you your favorite takeout from that one restaurant which could hopefully never go out of business (by how much you both ate from there, I’m sure they’re covered..) since it was right on the way to your house.
Before you could even open his messages, you hear your window opening revealing red hood himself. You, not even paying attention to the person who came in swoon over the bag of take-out in his hands.
“Do your parents not feed you?” he said with a smirk as he took his helmet placing it on your side table and sitting on the edge of your bed facing you and handing the bag to you. “The usual, may I suggest a tip? It’s not easy beating up bad guys and picking up take out for you.”
You slightly shift out of bed sitting up moving your notes out your way, the food is your priority right now. You hum ever so lightly, "depends on what types of payments you accept." You slightly pause somehow taken aback by something that left your own mouth willingly.
Jason lets out a slightly choked up laugh, "yeah? i'll take what i can get."
"gosh atleast let me finish my chowmein first!" you say making a face having to look up at him, "can you sit down? we can share, the least i can do for you getting me this."
"i think ill take you up on the other form of payment instead." he said sitting down in front of you taking off his jacket resting it on its usual position on your desk chair.
Flustered is the word that would describe your face best, but jason cant even see it. You put all your attention on your food trying your best not to make eye contact after all the comments you cant handle it, so you do what your best at, deflect deflect deflect.
After finishing up,
Jason paused the video you guys were watching on your computer while he sighed picking up the takeout boxes and your coke bottles, "you dont have to you know?" and as he always did, he cut you off before you could even finish. "I know, jus' let me?" he said shooting you a warm smile that only very few people got to see from him. Gosh, this man has the eyes of a sad puppy and they get you every single time.
He doesn't wait for you to say anything already sensing the defeat in your eyes as he got up to go to the kitchen pushing your door open from the edge with his shoe, both hands busy.
After a quick minute he gets back and enters your room closing it behind himself gently.
"So uhm,"
"Yeah, Jay?"
"I'm staying over, right?"
"i mean yeah, thats what--we planned?"
"yeah jus'---checking, i guess." he said, hands wandering to the back of his neck scratching almost nervously. "i didnt--"
"you left, your clothes in the bathroom so i kept them in my closet. I'll go get them for you? you can go wash up till then."
"yeah i, i'll go do that." he says with a small smile getting used to your little sequence before every sleepover. He gets back from patrol, you guys eat talking about stupid stuff that happened and then you guys almost pillow talk in bed, you always fall asleep saying you wont, to his rants. Not that his rants are boring, his voice is just too soothing.
He heads to your washroom, the toothbrush you gave him last time he came, his toothbrush still in the cup leaning into yours. He sighed getting ready to wash his face with the cleanser you forced him to listen about how you need to always cleanse and wear sunscreen and blah blah, he infact did start wearing it from that day. And how your strawberry vanilla shampoo softened his hair, surprising that it worked after how much grim and sweat he gets.
His bubble of thought then gets popped by a knock on the door, "jay? your clothes-" you said waiting for him to open the door as you stick your hand handing him his sweats and the shirt he wears almost all the time you see him.
As you both settle into bed,
you pull up the covers and scoot a little closer to him hugging your pillow as you prepare mentally to calm down and stop being so nervous, its not your first time with jason being so close. I mean, friends get this close right?
He turns his head down to look at you smiling with a small exhale of a laugh, "hi bug."
"hi jay" you murmur already tired hugging your pillow like it'll keep you awake.
He glances at your position, in the way you were laying down. "you wanna come here? you said you have the best sleep on my shoulder, orrr should i remind you? again?"
"noo i think i've been reminded more than enough by my friends." you say, still you pull your pillow to the other side discarding it for jason's arms. "scoot closer dummy."
"jeez no need to get your panties in a twist-"
"my panties are infact, not in a twist. Although i appreciate the concern."
Even in your sleep you need to quip back at him.
".. jay? im confused."
"about?"
"how come you didnt get yourself a batburger for takeout?"
with an exhale, "...goodnight."
"waaait, what about your payment?"
"...what about it?"
You slightly scoot up to reach his face, leaving a small peck on his cheek. Well, that must cover the 20 dollars he spent on your takeout.
"worth it." he whispered, quiet but not quiet enough for you not to hear.
a/n- can you tell how easily i gave up at the end i think i might work better with requests cause it gives me a base idea. THIS was supposed to be like a whole different idea which got broken down into what it is now.
SHOOULD I CONTINUEEE THISS..
its reallly short but i meaaan its a practice runnn guuuysss...
𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ✷ just Bruce being down bad for his woman :p
𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 ✷ bruce wayne x f!wife!reader
“Honey.”
Bruce’s voice carried through the bedroom for what had to be the sixth time that evening, low and patient in that practiced way only he could manage, though the faint strain beneath it betrayed him entirely. He sat in the leather chair near the windows of the penthouse suite, one ankle resting over his knee, a crystal glass of whiskey balanced loosely in his hand as the amber glow of Gotham shimmered behind him. Rain threatened beyond the glass, clouds smothering the skyline in silver and charcoal, the city alive beneath him in distant sirens and flickering lights.
From the adjoining bathroom came the familiar sound of shuffling, the clink of makeup brushes against marble, and then her voice.
“I’m almost done!”
Bruce closed his eyes slowly.
Almost done.
Right.
The soft ticking of the watch on his wrist felt louder now, mocking him. Seven o’clock reservations had become seven-thirty nearly twenty minutes prior, and somewhere downtown an irritated maître d’ was undoubtedly giving their table away to someone else. Bruce had specifically cleared tonight for her. No meetings. No patrol until later. No Wayne Foundation calls. Just dinner. Just her.
And despite all of that, despite the irritation simmering quietly beneath his composed exterior, he still couldn’t truly find it in himself to care.
Because he knew what was coming.
He knew eventually that bathroom door would open, and she would walk out looking devastating enough to make him forget every coherent thought in his head.
She always did.
Bruce tipped his head back against the chair and exhaled slowly through his nose, staring up at the ceiling as he rolled the whiskey over his tongue. He could hear her moving around again, muttering something under her breath, followed by an annoyed huff.
A smile threatened at the corner of his mouth despite himself.
The bathroom door finally opened.
Bruce looked up immediately.
And there she was.
Every ounce of annoyance vanished so quickly it almost embarrassed him.
She stepped out carefully, one hand braced against the doorframe while the other adjusted the fabric hugging her waist, and Bruce felt something in his chest tighten with dangerous intensity. The dress clung to her like it had been made specifically for her body, elegant and dark, the kind of thing designed to ruin men quietly. Soft skin glowed beneath the warm bedroom lighting, her hair falling around her shoulders in effortless waves that probably took far too much effort to create.
Bruce’s gaze dragged over her slowly, helplessly.
God.
“I’m sorry, my love,” she sighed dramatically, though the smile tugging at her lips ruined any sincerity. “I was struggling with my zipper.” Her eyes met his then, warm and teasing. “Help me?”
Bruce set his glass down carefully before he did something reckless like shatter it in his grip.
Without a word, he sat forward in the chair as she crossed the room toward him, heels clicking softly against the hardwood floors. She stopped directly in front of him before turning around, sweeping all her hair over one shoulder to expose the bare line of her back and the half-zipped dress hanging scandalously low.
Bruce’s jaw tightened.
His hands found her hips instinctively, large and warm against the silk fabric, and he guided her backward until she settled onto his lap with a soft laugh.
“Bold,” she murmured.
Bruce barely heard her.
His attention was fixed entirely on the exposed skin inches from his face.
Slowly, deliberately, he reached for the zipper.
His fingers brushed against the small of her back first, and he felt her shiver instantly beneath his touch. That alone nearly undid him. Bruce pulled the zipper upward at an agonizing pace, eyes following every inch as the fabric closed together little by little. Not because it needed to take that long.
But because he wanted an excuse to touch her.
To look at her.
To keep her exactly where she was.
Once the zipper reached the top, Bruce’s hand lingered there. His fingers flattened gently against the back of her neck before he leaned forward, pressing a slow kiss against her shoulder.
The tension in the room shifted immediately.
“Do we have to go?” he asked quietly against her skin.
She smiled instantly, hearing exactly what hid beneath his voice.
“What do you mean?” she asked innocently, though amusement danced in her tone. “Of course we do. It’s date night.”
Bruce’s hands tightened almost imperceptibly around her waist.
“I know.” His voice dropped lower, rougher now. “But we’re already thirty minutes late.” Another kiss brushed against her shoulder, slower this time. “The restaurant has probably given our table away.” His nose skimmed lightly along the curve of her neck. “And I know I just helped put this dress on but…”
He trailed off deliberately.
Because his hands were already moving.
One slid from her waist to her thigh, fingers spreading over bare skin where the slit of her dress exposed her leg. The other traveled upward, gliding along her waist before settling against her stomach, holding her firmly against him.
She felt warm.
Too warm.
Bruce lowered his head again, pressing another kiss just beneath her ear, and her breathing hitched softly.
That sound nearly destroyed whatever restraint he had left.
“Bruce,” she warned, though the laugh in her voice weakened the effect entirely.
“Hm?”
“We’re supposed to be going out.”
“We can reschedule.”
“You made those reservations two months ago.”
“I’ll buy the restaurant.”
That made her laugh properly.
A real laugh.
Bruce finally allowed himself to smile against her skin, eyes closing briefly as he soaked in the sound of it. God, he loved that sound. More than the quiet of the manor. More than victory. More than sleep after patrol. Her laughter was one of the few things in the world capable of silencing every violent thought in his head.
“You cannot buy every problem away,” she informed him.
Bruce leaned back slightly, finally looking at her face.
“Yes, I can.”
The confidence in his tone made her roll her eyes affectionately, but Bruce noticed the way her cheeks warmed beneath his stare. He always noticed. Bruce noticed everything about her.
The way her pulse fluttered at the base of her throat when he looked at her too long.
The way she unconsciously leaned into his touch even while pretending to resist him.
The way her lips parted slightly whenever his hands settled on her waist.
He knew her tells better than he knew his own.
And right now?
Right now she was seconds away from giving in.
Bruce rested his forehead lightly against her shoulder and exhaled slowly, his voice quieter when he spoke again.
“You look beautiful.”
Not flirtatious.
Not teasing.
Honest.
That was what made her fall silent.
Bruce Wayne was charming with everyone else. Effortlessly charismatic. Polished. Untouchable. But with her, the act disappeared. What remained was something rarer and infinitely more dangerous: sincerity.
He looked at her like he truly couldn’t believe she existed.
And maybe he still couldn’t.
His fingers brushed slowly up her arm as his gaze moved over her face again, softer now.
“I spent the entire week looking forward to tonight,” he admitted. “Not the restaurant. Not the reservations. Just…this.”
Her expression melted a little at that.
Bruce noticed immediately.
Of course he did.
His thumb traced slowly along her thigh again before he leaned closer, voice turning quieter, intimate enough to make heat curl low in her stomach.
“So forgive me if I’m struggling to care about dinner when you’re sitting on my lap looking like this.”
Y/n smiled while shifting carefully on his lap, she turned until she was facing him fully, one leg sliding along either side of his thighs as her hands rose to cradle his face. The sharp angles of Bruce Wayne always softened beneath her touch. His jaw unclenched first. Then his shoulders. Then those impossibly pretty eyes lifted to hers with that quiet intensity that still made her chest tighten after all this time.
She leaned down and kissed him gently.
The kind of kiss that lingered.
Bruce immediately chased after it when she pulled away, his mouth brushing hers once more before she could speak, clearly unwilling to let her go that easily.
“How about,” she began softly, her thumbs brushing along the stubble shadowing his jaw, “we go to the restaurant…” Another small kiss touched the corner of his mouth. “I’m sure they’ll magically find a table for Mister Bruce Wayne.”
Bruce huffed quietly through his nose, neither confirming nor denying the very obvious truth of that statement.
“We’ll eat their ridiculously overpriced pasta,” she continued, smiling now, “drink wine we’ll both pretend we can actually taste the difference between, and have a wonderful time.”
Bruce’s eyes never left her face.
Not once.
The attention was almost unbearable when he looked at her like this. Like the rest of the world had ceased existing the moment she climbed into his lap.
“And then,” she whispered, leaning closer, “we’ll come home.”
Her lips brushed his jaw.
Bruce’s grip on her waist tightened immediately.
She felt it.
Enjoyed it.
Slowly, deliberately, she pressed another kiss beneath his ear before trailing them upward, lingering just long enough to feel the subtle hitch in his breathing.
“And then,” she murmured directly against his ear, “you can take this dress off me, hm?”
The silence that followed was heavy.
Not empty.
Heavy.
Bruce’s hands spread wider against her waist, large enough to nearly span it completely, and his head tilted slightly as he looked at her with an expression that was becoming increasingly dangerous.
“Or,” he said slowly, voice roughened into something velvet-deep and unfairly attractive, “we skip dinner entirely…”
One hand slid from her waist to the small of her back, pulling her flush against him.
“…and cut straight to the part where I take the dress off.”
The bluntness of it made heat bloom across her cheeks.
There it was.
Not billionaire Bruce Wayne smiling for cameras.
Not Gotham’s charming prince.
Just Bruce.
Direct. Certain. Possessive in a way he only ever allowed himself to be with her.
Y/n rolled her eyes despite the smile tugging at her lips. “We’re going.”
Bruce stared at her for a long moment.
Genuinely stared.
Like he was reevaluating every life decision that had led him to this exact moment.
Then, with all the exhausted dramatics of a man being sent unwillingly to war, his head tipped backward against the chair and a long sigh escaped him.
It was such an exaggerated sigh that she nearly laughed again.
“You’re very cruel to me,” he muttered darkly.
“Mm,” she hummed. “You’ll survive. You’ve survived worse.”
Bruce’s gaze slid back to her immediately, entirely unconvinced.
“Debatable.”
That one earned him a laugh.
A real one.
Soft and bright and warm enough to pull the faintest smile from him in return.
God.
Bruce would burn cities down for that sound.
She slid carefully off his lap before he could change her mind—or before she changed it herself—and smoothed the fabric of her dress back into place. The silk settled perfectly against her body as she turned toward the mirror near the doorway to check her appearance one last time.
Behind her, Bruce remained seated.
Watching.
Shamelessly.
Completely shamelessly.
His eyes tracked her every movement with open appreciation, dark and unwavering as they moved over the elegant line of her spine, the curve of her waist, the soft sway of her hips beneath the dress he had been seconds away from peeling off her body himself.
Most men looked casually.
Briefly.
Bruce never did anything briefly.
He looked at her like a man committing artwork to memory before someone stole it away from him.
Like every glance mattered.
Like he still couldn’t fully believe she was real, let alone his.
And perhaps some wounded, guarded part of Bruce truly never would.
Because this—domesticity, softness, love uncomplicated by blood or violence—had never belonged in his world before her.
Yet there she stood in his bedroom, fixing an earring while his tie sat crooked because she’d distracted him fifteen minutes earlier.
Normal.
Beautiful.
His.
“Come on, Wayne,” she called finally, reaching for her clutch.
Bruce rose from the chair with the kind of effortless grace that always made him look dangerous even in a tailored suit. Six-foot-something of broad shoulders, expensive cologne, old money confidence, and concealed violence wrapped neatly beneath black Tom Ford.
He adjusted the cuffs of his jacket before tugging once at his tie.
Then he paused.
A nearly invisible grimace crossed his face as he subtly adjusted the front of his trousers.
Y/n caught it instantly.
Her eyes widened in amusement.
“Oh my God.”
Bruce looked entirely unapologetic.
“You whispered in my ear,” he said flatly, as though that explained everything.
“It was one sentence.”
“It was a very effective sentence.”
She bit down on her smile as Bruce grabbed his wallet from the dresser and crossed the room toward her, every movement composed despite the situation he was currently blaming entirely on her.
When he reached her, he rested one hand against the small of her back automatically, grounding himself there like second nature.
“This,” he muttered as he guided her toward the bedroom door, “is going to be a very long night.”
The smirk she sent him over her shoulder was downright lethal.
js saved a draft which felt long gosh i havent written in so long thats its actually so hard to focus on what the topic was on. I was writing with a song in mind but i kinda softened the fic so now i think ill draft that for another fic which i think would be really lit but like now i have to figure out how to write this one auuuugh
contains: jason todd has an unhealthy crush on his best friend’s sister. she finds him irresistible. so naturally they begin dating in secret! suggestive, mentions of injuries, smoking etc mdni in general, req from my old account!
part one
part two
part three
part four
extras
dreamy blossoms (could be read as a standalone too!)
actually fucking disgusting that glasses cost any money like if you actually think about it for more than a few seconds it is so unconscionably inhumane. this goes for things like insulin and mobility aids and hearing aids too ofc but fuck man, fucking glasses? the thing you need to fucking see? its genuinely sickening and inhumanly evil that those cost ANYTHING.
SUMMARY: Reader makes Jason do a TikTok trend. Bat-siblings get to discover the big bad has a girlfriend he's totally whipped for.
PAIRING: Jason Todd x Fem! Reader
TAGS: I was talking about this trend, fluff, a little mature but mostly fine, fatson todd mention, bruce wayne flies to tokyo cause he can, jason loves her but dosen't wanna be teased about it (harms his street rep) , a little ooc? , a little beta read
𖦹 Word Count: 1,718 𖦹 Ao3
"I can't believe you made me agree to this," Jason said, leaning back into the couch, making himself comfortable.
"As if you're not right where you wanna be," you shot back, straddling him as his hands naturally come to rest on your hips.
"I'm not complaining about-mmhm" he completely melts as soon as you shut him up with a kiss, your nails softly scraping the back of his neck the way he likes, making him groan into it. But you know Jason. Know exactly when he's about to turn an innocent little makeout shesh into toe-curling sex, so you were quick to pull away, determined not to get distracted. When you did pull away sucessfully, he looked at you as if you had offended him in 12 different ways.
"Oh don't make that face Jace. It's not even gonna take like 10 minutes to get done with the vid!" You said, applying lip gloss as his eyes settled on your lips.
"Hey, I'm all for giving up my body so you can do whatever you like with it. But leaving me high and dry for your private following of 50 is so mean," he said, hands disappearing under your top.
"You'll live." You smacked your lips, held his face in place and started peppering it with kisses. A wide smile found home on Jason's face, enjoying the attention. The concept of his face being ambushed like this was not foreign to him at all. Whenever you'd see him look at home and comfortable, you'd literally pounce on him.
When he's lying under the blankets in winter, his hoodie cocooning his face. Boom your on him.
He's cooking something, his brows furrowed in concentration. Boom your on him.
He could be doing the most mundane things, like watching a movie with you. BOOM your on him again. He never knows when it's coming, but he knows it's inevitable.
So it's safe to say he has taken a liking to being handled like this by you. Hell, he loves it even.
When you're done painting him red. You pull back to observe your masterpiece. "Hmm you look nice..Wanna see?" You say grabbing ur phone and snapping multiple pictures. Jason was smiling like an idiot, content to just be there. Just being yours like this.
You turned your phone to show him how he looked. "I personally think I should do this more often" you said proud of your craft.
“That so?” His brows lifted lazily, fingers tightening on your hips as he kissed you again.
Today was a good day.
"GUYS." Stephanie's voice cut through the coms, "Nobody leaves directly after patrol tonight. I have something to show all of you." Just by Steph's tone, everyone guessed this was going to be entertaining. A string of 'you got it', 'yep' and 'what for?' followed.
Cut to the infamous Batcave. All of them had busied themselves. Damian was polishing his katana, Tim was arranging case files, dick on the worn-out couch scrolling on his phone, Cassandra was in the training area and Jason leaned against one of the support beams, eating popcorn. The only person they were waiting on was Bruce. And all of them were getting impatient because Stephanie was too giddy and bouncy for their liking.
“Can you relax?” Jason finally asked. “You’re pacing like you planted explosives somewhere.” to which Stephanie scoffed with a smirk "Oh! Talk all you want Todd...for now."
Before Jason could even ask what she meant by that, Dick suddenly groaned dramatically from across the cave. “Well, we waited for nothing. Bruce is flying to Tokyo.”
Tim’s head snapped up instantly. “Why would he text you that and not me?” Already offended, he pulled out his phone only for it to be snatched by Stephanie. "Not right now drake"
“Everybody. Huddle up. Now.” She said a bounce in her step as she made her way to her phone.
"I'm about to show you. The cutest thing you've seen in a minute." She turned the phone around to show the video you had posted earlier that day.
Jason felt his ears get warm actively. The screen shook slightly as you tried to fix ur lipstick yourself only for Jason’s hand to enter frame, big fingers tilting your chin up with absurd gentleness.Then came the worst part. Jason’s face. Not the bruised-up, helmet-wearing crime lord terror one Gotham knew. No. This was domestic Jason. Soft Jason. The Jason who looked at you like you’d personally invented sunlight.
Covered in red.
God he looked so whipped.
Pin drop silence through the cave.
The first to react was Damian, springing off his seat to get a closer look "Is that Todd?!" and Stephanie nodded, squealing, "Aren't they so fucking cute!!" Before Damian could give his insight, Jason cut in, "What the fuck, Steph! How'd you even get the video??" Dick chimed in, "No better question. Since when do you have a girlfriend and why does it look like only I didn't know about her!" tim piped up "I didn't know either!" Damian nodded as well, "Why would you not tell us?"
"Just because! That's not the point right now. The point is that Steph is hacking into my girlfriend's account to get at me!" Jason said, standing up and taking the stage, "Wow, chill, I'm not hacking into anything, damn. Is it that hard to believe I'm mutuals with her?" Jason scoffed as if that had personally offended him, "no ur not." She just gave him a flat look. "...you are." He says, dropping back to his seat.
Dick asked the necessary question, "How do ya know her, Steph?" Stephanie shrugged casually "We've been volunteering for the same animal rights NGO for the past month and became friends. Then I see him pick her up one day and well..." Jason ran a hand over his face.
"I think it's very sweet." Cassandra spoke up, "You both look good together." Considering Cassandra rarely ever spoke, the atmosphere had quieted down to listen to her properly "Thanks cass. You're sweet. Maybe teach that to these assholes." Jason replied bringing the tension back in."We haven't made fun of you even once. Why the fuck are we assholes?" Tim asked annoyed.
"Because you were thinking it,” Jason shot back immediately, pointing accusingly at all of them like a man defending himself in court with nothing but wounded pride and vibes. "I can feel it in the air. Every single one of you is gearing up to make fun of me."
They exchanged looks.
“Can we replay the video?” Dick asked hopefully, already halfway off the couch and reaching for Stephanie’s phone.
Jason looked horrified. “Absolutely not.”
Too late.
Stephanie had already restarted it.
Dick clutched his chest dramatically. “My Littlewing grew up so fast.” Jason groaned, “I hate all of you.”
“You look like you’re about to serenade her.” Tim added.
“They look married,” Stephanie corrected. And god help him. Jason just hopes he was only feeling warm and not looking the part.
Damian, meanwhile, was staring at the phone with narrowed eyes like he’d just witnessed cryptid footage. “That cannot be Todd.” Jason scoffed.
Cassandra tilted her head slightly, watching the paused frame. “You look calm.” The words actually made Jason pause for half a second. Because that was the thing, wasn’t it? He was calm around you.
Then Dick ruined the moment instantly.
“Wait, wait, pause when he's in frame!”
“DON’T.”
Dick gasped, “Oh my God. He’s got the eyes.” Jason crossed his arms stubbornly. “You guys are overreacting.”
“Are not” Damian said immediately.
“You called me emotionally constipated three days ago!”
“You are. This is simply...unexpected character development.”
Tim leaned back in his chair with a smirk. “Honestly, I thought your version of romance was just threatening people slightly softer.” To which Tim received a 'what-the-fuck-dude' look
Jason groaned and leaned back against the beam again like a man moments away from faking his own death. Unfortunately for him, the hyenas smelled weakness. Tim held a hand out toward Stephanie.
“Lemme see the account.”
“No,” Jason warned immediately.
“Too late,” Stephanie chirped, tossing Tim the phone.
Jason lunged. Cassandra smoothly stuck a foot out. Jason stumbled mid-step while Tim escaped with the phone like a victorious raccoon stealing bread. “Traitor. You're supposed to be on my team.” Jason accused. Cass only blinked innocently.
Tim scrolled for exactly five seconds before letting out a low whistle. “Damn.” Jason narrowed his eyes. “Drake.”
“You’re in every other post”
“Drake.”
“There’s one where you’re asleep.”
“TIMOTHY.”
Dick perked up instantly. “THERES A SLEEPING JASON TODD PHOTO?!” Jason started moving again, but Damian intercepted him this time, grabbing the back of his jacket with deeply unnecessary force.
“You will sit,” Damian ordered.
“What are you, twelve or a Bond villain?”
“Yes.”
Dick had now migrated from the couch and was fully invading Tim’s personal space to look at the phone too. “OHHH this one!” A photo from the funhouse where the mirror had made jason look stretched and small (honouring fatson todd here.) Stephanie grinned, “Read the caption.” Tim chuckled, "He's 2 apples tall.” Everyone broke out laughing.
Jason looked like he was entering cardiac arrest.
Tim spoke up, "Dude, we have proof Jason isn't just a big tough GUY!"
Damian, however, was still staring at Jason. “You let her post this?” Jason frowned. “I'm no one to tell her what she can and can't post?”
Another question “She openly displays affection for you in front of strangers.” Jason answered warily, "...yeah?”
“And you permit this.”
Jason blinked slowly. “Do you think she’s my hostage? I love her. She's her own woman.”
Damian nodded in deep thought.
Dick slung an arm around Jason’s shoulders before he could escape again. “Face it, little wing. You’re down catastrophically.” Jason immediately tried shrugging him off. “Get off me.”
“Nope. I’m embracing this growth.”
“This isn’t growth.”
“You smiled.”
“I smile.”
Dick’s expression softened instantly beneath all the teasing as he got off jason “You really love her, huh?”
The cave quieted again. No jokes this time. Jason looked away first. Which was answer enough already. But then he muttered, quieter this time:
“More than anything.” The words settled through the cave strangely gently.
Then naturally.
“Anyway when’s the wedding?”
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
a/n: First Jason fic! I hope this wasn't too stretched! Do you guys like it?
Summary & CW: Fluff, secret relationship, cursing, drinks, bar scene, Jason POV, second person, no use of y/n
Pairing: Jason Todd x fem!reader
Word Count: 1.0k
A/N: Another piece out the Kiln! Thank you to @starrydustedwinter for participating in the event I had so much fun with this request :)
Jason was overwhelmed from the second he walked into Dick’s apartment.
He and Kori were holding the pregame before everyone took the night on the town. Almost all the titans were gathered around the kitchen island taking shots and mixing concoctions that were for sure going to have everyone throwing up by half past twelve.
Jason, like always, was designated driver- without the driving part. He was never the biggest drinker, especially in public. At most he’d indulge in a beer at the manor if there was some family get together. He wouldn’t even sip champagne at gala’s, he didn’t like drinking around people he didn’t know.
Then there was you, the light of his life, his beautiful girlfriend who loved to assign herself designated drinker. You could hold your alcohol pretty well, which meant you abused that biological blessing fairly often.
It took a lot to get you drunk.
He knew from more than one instance.
Even though Jason wasn’t the biggest fan when alcohol was involved, a smile always seemed to creep onto his face when he saw you slip into a tipsy state.
You let loose a little more, your grin got a little wider, and at one point when you were on the precipice of becoming fully drunk- you started throwing your arms around him. That last part was reserved just for him however. No one knew that when the night was over, he would end up at your apartment rubbing soothing circles on your back until you fell asleep with your ear on his chest.
So now, in the middle of the second bar that he'd been dragged to, Jason decides to tough out the rest of the night. The reward of brushing his fingers through your hair would be worth whatever nightmare the sticky floor and crammed bodies was going to become.
He was nursing a coke zero around the high top with Dick, Wally, and Roy. They were talking about some gossip about Tim’s little group of super heroes. He didn’t really care enough about it to be paying attention.
His eyes went past Dick’s face and landed on you. Donna had the bright idea of taking you and Kori to go flirt for free drinks. It took everything in him to swallow the bile in his throat when you started twirling the framing hair around your face, and the victim leaned into your ear.
Letting out a fake giggle, you grabbed your drink from the bar top and linked arms with the remaining two of your trio. The three of you were now on the way back, smiling successfully with three Dirty Shirley’s in hand.
Rejoining the rest of the group at the high top, you took your spot next to Jason. The hand he kept in his back pocket now found it’s home at the small of your back, and you leaned quietly into it.
Although no one could see under the table- and were probably too intoxicated to tell- it was better to be safer than sorry.
Here in the little corner of the bar, Jason felt like he could finally breathe again with you near. He did everything in his power to not be controlling, to not deny you of any experience. So, at the bar he’d make sure to take deep breaths if it meant you got a free drink. It was smart after all, especially in this economy.
If your happiness meant having to power through the way he got light-headed, then so be it. In reality he knew it was harmless. That bum wasn’t going to be the one going home with you anyway, Jason was.
He’s taken from his thoughts when your hip bumps into his. With everyone immersed in their own conversation, you were granted this small gift of a moment for both of you.
His eyes meet yours, and his breath is robbed straight from his lungs. Jason was the most pathetically down bad man in the world. It was amazing to him how even in this horribly lit dive bar, he was convinced you were Aphrodite reincarnated in human form.
“I love you.” You mouth at him- and that’s it. He can’t breathe. His face flushes red, and he’s suddenly grateful for how dim it is in here.
“I love you more.” He mouth’s back with a bashful smile.
You scrunch your nose at him in response, trying to hide the goofy smile threatening to take over your features.
“Did you guys know they had Karaoke here?” Rayner’s voice interrupts your declaration as him and Garth come back from the eternal line of the bathroom.
Jason lets out a sigh that can only come from the depths of his stomach. He knew what was going to happen before Donna could even spring into action.
No one was aware of your relationship with Jason. That meant Donna assigned you as her partner in crime for everything and anything. Which is why Jason was everything but surprised when Donna wrapped her fingers around your forearm, pulling you away from his side.
“Let’s go!” She yelled over the loud environment.
Jason watches helplessly as his older sister figure pulls the love of his life away from him. His gaze never wavers from yours as Donna navigates you through the bar. It stays on you when she pulls you on the small stage, when she places one of the microphones in your hand, and when she cues up the song.
He’s now leaning over the bar top, watching in amusement as you get incredibly animated in your Celine Dion duet. His palm comes to rest over his mouth in a pathetic attempt to cover his laugh.
His face turns as red as his hood when your eyes land on his and practically scream into the mic,
“There were nights of endless pleasure, it was more than any laws allow.”
Getting the reaction you wanted, you spare him a teasing wink making his cheeks flush deeper.
Neither of you were as good at keeping secrets as you thought though, because Dick notices how his little brother’s eyes never leave you. He sees the way Jason is completely encapsulated by your every movement. He never gives it away, but when he watches Jason smile a little brighter and relax a little more with you near, well wasn’t that all he could ever ask for?
•───────•°•♡•°•───────•
A/N: Sorry if this was all over the place, I got really excited while writing it.
