Request: so Jason and the rest are on patrol or he’s out of town or away or smth(i prefer that he’s on patrol), and Girlie(that’s how im gonna call her) is still heavily pregnant and about to burst cause it’s like days away from her due date. Anyways, she could be on a call with Jason or they could be currently staying at the manor and she’s sitting at the batcomputer monitoring patrol cause she’s bored, when she gradually starts feeling labor pains. She only fees a discomfort at first so she doesn’t panic yet, but then they get REALLY bad. Jason notices something through the call/coms that she’s kinda acting weird until she says that she thinks she’s gone into labor. Chaos ensues(you can decide what goes on from there)😁😁😁
I've been working on this off and on for a while, and I tried to do as much research on labor as possible. It's literally insane what the female body can do. I have gotten a few requests about the rest of the family meeting Cathy, but I've been waiting to start those because of this one. Hopefully, now I can lock in those. Enjoy!
Girl Dad!Jason Todd Masterlist
Warnings: Pregnancy, Labor and birth, JAson almost misses the birth
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“If you truly insist on staying, when you should be resting, allow me to fetch a spot of soup for you.” Alfred insists where he stands beside you at the batcomputer. He let you have the big chair the moment you’d entered the cave, and you were not complaining. Everything ached.
You smile up at the older man. You understood why he worried. Your due date was next week, and you had already had a momentary complication; babygirl almost came too early. Jason had been taken. Kidnapped? Murdered? Nobody knew at the time, and you freaked. Evidently, it freaked the baby out, too. You going into premature labour was really not something that needed to happen at that point. In the end, the hospital managed to calm everything down, and Jason was returned with only minor injuries. But you couldn’t help the worry when he went out; you couldn’t do this alone. Not after all the work Jason and you had done.
“Thank you, Alfred. That sounds nice, and for the record, I am resting. Very clearly not on my feet.”
Alfred sighs, “Miss, that is most certainly not what bedrest means.”
“I just want to listen to him. Is that okay? With soup?” you plead.
“Very well,” Alfred nods, “please remain unmoved from this spot until my return.”
“Yes, sir,” you give a mock salute to Alfred as he shakes his head, moving to the elevator.
The noises of the cave follows after, and you resettle in the chair, hands on your belly as you stare at the screen, a map of Gotham with different colored dots moving across it. You tap on the coms, and quiet conversations filter through the system. It must be a quiet night. You find Jason’s line clicking into it.
“Hello?” his voice comes across thick with confusion. It makes you smile.
“Hi, handsome,” you coo, exhaustion slipping into your voice even as you try to hide it.
“Hi, sweetheart,” his voice softens right up, and you want to melt. Baby shifts in your belly, and you have to adjust to the new pressure. Jason keeps talking, “You should be in bed.”
“I couldn’t sleep, you know that.” You remind him. You had barely slept a wink the past week, even with Jason by your side. Baby wouldn’t stop moving, seemingly out of spite. It was uncomfortable and miserable, and you had to pee all the time.
“I know,” he murmurs. You listen as he shifts a quiet grunt that sounds like he’s jumping roofs, then you hear him settle back down, “she’s too excited to get here.”
“She is too excited to- oh,” you wince, shifting in your seat with a deep breath.
Jason makes a noise, “Oh, what? Are you okay?”
You stand from the chair as your low belly cramps. You lean over slightly, the only position that seemed to help with the Braxton Hicks contractions. You practice the breathing methods that you and Jason had learned in one of the birthing classes.
“Sweetheart? Baby, talk to me.” Jason's voice becomes a tad more urgent when you don’t answer.
“It’s- ‘m fine, Jay,” you whimper softly as the feeling intensifies worse than you’d felt before. You count to yourself, breathing. Soon, the pain eases.
You let out a sigh of relief as it lessens, your back aching more than it had before. You shake it off, gently sliding back into the chair.
Jason’s voice comes back through the comms, so thick with worry you can practically see the pinch of his brow, “Honey?”
“Everything's okay, just a Braxton Hicks.” You keep your breathing steady as you rub your hand across your belly.
“Yeah? Are you sure?”
You laugh softly, “I think so. I promise I’m fine.”
“The doctor said that because of your episode, you could go into labour before the-” an explosion echoes through the comms, “shit! You promise you're okay?”
“I’m fine. Go.” You end the connection with him for him and follow him as his dot moves across Gotham. The family's voices chime through the computer, whose going where, what it could’ve been.
Twelve minutes later, the pain returns. You don't even stand this time, hands gripping the armrests as the pain spreads to your thighs, a strange sensation that you’d only felt with your near-too-early birth. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to breathe through the pain. Once it eases, your mind ignores the chaos on the coms to stare at the clock. Ten minutes later, the pain returns.
“Oh fucking dammit,” you curse and glare down at your belly as the contraction eases, “now is not the time. Dad's saving lives, and you and I agreed you wouldn't come until he was here too.”
You groan, leaning forward in the chair, arms pressed to the console. A beep echoes softly, one you would've recognised if you weren't in pain, as the computer hatches into the comms.
“You cannot come now,” you complain, head still down.
“Wait, is baby coming now?” Steph's voice startles you. Your eyes find the screen in the panic.
“No! No, baby is not- fuck” you curse again. The pain flares again, and your eyes find the clock. A nine-minute interval. You were definitely at the start of your labour if the birthing classes were right.
“You told me they were Braxton Hicks,” Jason's tight tone comes across the comms, followed by a gunshot.
The contraction eases again, you tone matching his, “I thought it was. You think I would lie about going into labour?”
“No, but you told me-”
“It is recommended that any outside stressor be removed during labour. Todd, I would recommend silence for a healthy birth.” Damian chimes.
“I am not in labour!” You scoff and stand up, holding the chair as you try to pace back and forth slowly.
More arguing filters across the line as you breathe. Everything is going to be fine, you tell yourself. Some women's labour lasted hours, which sounded miserable, but would allow Jason to come back to the cave and get you to a hospital. Your hopes for a hospital or even your midwife were dwindling.
You groan again, stilling in your pacing for a moment. Everything falls quiet, at least to your ears. Except for Jason's voice, muddled but present, “baby, just breathe. Like we practiced.”
Your nerves ease as you focus on the memories of Jason practicing your breathing with you before. You rely on it with him not there.
“I'm okay,” you finally say, even as fighting echoes from the coms, “I'm okay.”
“Alfred,” bruces voice comes through, and you shake your head.
“He's upstairs getting me soup.” You laugh after you finish. You should've known your labour would be a mess.
“Why would Pennyworth-”
“Is the soup for the labour?”
“I wasn't in labour when he went to get it,” you interject.
Jason's voice comes back through, “That was eight minutes. Sweetheart, you should be fine for a little bit. Why didn't you tell me?”
You laugh again, “You're counting while you're fighting?”
Even with the gnawing ache of your early labour, you can't help but feel fond of Jason.
“Someone has too,” he scoffs and mutters, “just Braxton Hicks.”
“I didn't think they were labour contractions when we were talking,” your sentence ends with another barely suppressed groan.
Tim juts, “uh, that was six minutes. Isn’t that like too fast?”
“Why are you counting too?” you huff, eyes prickling with tears. Instead of waiting for an answer, you say, for the first time since you found out who Jason was, “Jason, I need you to come home right now.”
“I know, baby…” Jason murmurs.
Your heart drops at his tone, mind aware from your contractions for a moment, “Don’t say it like that!”
He doesn’t respond to you, “Guys, a little help would be nice. I’m kind of stuck, and there’s a baby on the way.”
“Gimme fifteen minutes!” Cass adds quietly. You shake your head. Your contractions were moving too fast. If they kept getting closer, Jason might not make it back.
“I can’t-” you cut yourself off. There was only so much everyone could do, but you needed Jason for this.
“I’m sending Robin and Spoiler back to the cave for support. Don’t worry, we’ll make sure Red Hood’s back in time.” Bruce says, and it takes you a moment to realise he’s talking to you.
The elevator dings before you can so much as utter a thank you. Alfred steps back into the cave with a tray holding two bowls, “I do hope that you won't mind me joining- I believe I told you to stay put, miss.”
You nearly cry out of relief, only for it to turn back into a groan. You bend slightly again, hands clenching at the back of the chair.
“That’s six minutes. Pennyworth, her labour accelerating. You must prepare the med-bay.” Damian’s voice sounds rushed with a pinch of worry.
A hand finds your back, and you suddenly become aware of how sweaty you feel. You lift your head to find Alfred’s gaze, “Hey.”
“Yes, hello. To the med bay, then,” Alfred helps you over to the med bay on shaky legs. You get halfway there when you feel your legs suddenly drenched in hot wetness.
You shake your head, in too much pain to be embarrassed, but your mind latches onto something else, “Sorry, Alfred, that’s going to be a headache to clean up.”
“What? What’s going to be a headache?” Jason’s voice comes across the coms, strained, likely fighting. Alfred lays you back on the bed.
“I think my water broke,” you answer. The laying down only slightly eases the pressure on your body, “it's okay.”
“Your water broke?!” Some gunshots echo from the coms. You sit up the sound worry knotting.
“Jason!”
Alfred pushes you back down, “Now, Miss, you must calm down. Master Todd will be alright.”
You settle back on the bed at Alfred’s insistence, another contraction hitting you. You groan with a hand on your belly. Alfred gets to work prepping for the birth, but your mind can only focus on two things. Your daughter was painfully on her way, and Jason was not by your side.
The rumble of engines echoes through the cave. Your head tips, vision blurry with unshed tears, “Jason?”
“Not quite,” Damian’s voice meets your ears, and you cry softly. Where was Jason?
“Hey, Hey, Hey,” a hand curls around yours, your eyes make out a puff of blonde.
“Steph, hi. Where’s Jason?” you ask pitifully.
She squeezes your hand, “on his way right now. He’ll be here soon. Just hang on.”
A tear tracks down your cheek as another contraction hits. They were too close.
“I will check her dilation then, Pennyworth.”
“No!” you sit up with a rush, regret it and settle back down, eyes on Damian. He raises a brow at you, “I love you, buddy, you know that, but you do not get to look, let alone stick your fingers up my vagina.”
Steph laughs next to you, and Damian looks at you, rather disgruntled. Alfred nods as he pulls on gloves, “I do have to agree with Miss, Master Damian. You are too young and perhaps too close to this. If I may, miss?”
At his question directed at you, you hesitantly agree. Damian leaves the med bay pouting as he walks to the computer. You sniffle as Alfred checks your cervix. He casts a glance at you and Steph before he calls out to Damian, “How far is Master Jason?”
“A few minutes at best, Pennyworth,” he replies. Alfred looks back at you again.
“Miss, baby will be here sooner than later. I know you and Master Jason had a birth plan?” Alfred asks.
You nod, but any thought of what your birth plan was is out the window, “I can’t remember.”
“That’s alright,” he reassures, then turns to Steph, “Miss. Brown, would you be so kind as to call Doctor Thompkins? Her guidance will be needed.”
Steph nods and slips from your tight grasp you didn't know you had. Your hand curl into the bed as you ask, “Alfred, have you ever delivered a baby?”
“I’m afraid not, miss. But we will make it through this together.” He nods, “and master Jason will make it on time.”
You shake your head, voice cracking with tears, “I can’t do this without him.”
“It will be alright,” he attempts to soothe you. Steph returns with her phone, and she offers it to Alfred. He pulls his gloves from his hands and takes the phone, “Good evening, Doctor Thompkins…”
Steph prys your hand from the bed, letting you squeeze as your contractions come and go, tears race down your cheeks. This was far more painful than your almost early birth, and you wished more and more for an epidural you knew would not come.
Another engine roars into the cave, but you're so lost in the haze of another contraction that you miss it. Steph's hand is replaced by one that’s larger, still wrapped in a leather glove. A rough kiss is pressed to your sweat-damp forehead. Your eyes flicker open and cry again at the sight of Jason, your body working on instinct, trying to hug him.
“Jason, Thank god.”
He works his glove off one hand with his teeth, then trades the one holding yours to pull off the other glove. His now freed hand moves to stroke your hair, gently pressing you back on the bed.
“I’m here, Mama. You’re doing great.” He murmurs against your hair, “How’re you feeling?”
“I feel like I’m gonna shit myself,” you slip out, not thinking much of it. Jason’s eyes widen before his turning to look around the cave.
“Alfred!” he calls out. The man returns quickly with a pinched brow. Jason nods to you, “The baby’s coming now.”
You stare at Jason in confusion, “What? How do you- oh! Ow, jesus!”
Your hand squeezes Jason’s hand, nails digging in as a burning pain spreads to your nether regions. The phone is quickly handed from Alfred back to Steph now on speaker.
Everything becomes a blur. Doctor Thompkins on the phone, Jason holding your hand and the recurring encouragement to push from anyone. It feels like hours and only seconds. Pain and tears until you hear the sharp cry of a newborn.
There’s a wiggling weight on your chest, still screaming her lungs out. Jason squeezing your hand back as you blink dazed at him as the pain subsides. Your eyes drop to stare at her, your free hand lethargically dropping on her back.
“Catherine,” you whisper, and her crying slows, “baby, hi.”
Your voice is harsher than you care for, still thick with tears. You hear Alfred talking to Jason, and soon you sleep, top is unbuttoned enough for your sticky newborn baby girl to rest on your bare chest. You can’t even bring yourself to care. Tears of pure joy leave you, mixed with elated laughter. Jason presses another kiss to your hairline, staying as close as possible.
“She’s beautiful, sweetheart,” he murmurs, “You did so good. You made it.”
His hand meets yours on her back as she yells at the world. “Catherine, huh?”
Your eyes leave her for a split second to look at him, feeling slightly dizzy from the motion. You hadn’t told him what you were planning to name her. “Is that okay?”
“Of course,” he kisses you fondly as Alfred dabs around your holds on her, cleaning her without taking her away from you. Both of your focuses return to her, to your baby. Nine months of anxiety and emotions all built up to this moment.
hello!! i saw your dad!jason and i would like to request some more👉👈 maybe one where hes taking care of heavily pregnant reader 🥺🥺🥺
I love that someone requested more Dad!Jason. I feel in my chest the man would be a great dad both for his baby and for his baby momma. Sorry it took so long to get to and thank you for requesting it!
Warning(maybe?): Pregnancy and pregnancy symptoms
Girl Dad!Jason Todd Masterlist
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You loved Jason. You loved him a lot, you keep reminding yourself. You were going to throw something at him the moment you saw him, you think as you gingerly slid out of bed.
Your body aches double when the pressure of gravity starts to work against you. Everything felt too much, skin too tight and itchy. You wanted to cry, throat thick with pushing it down.
You had to stand up and move around or you were going to lose your mind from laying in bed all day. You tug useless on your pajama shirt, like it would ever stay over your heavy swollen belly. It just irritates you more when it slides back up.
You were going to hit Jason because he just had to get you pregnant (as if it wasn't both your fault and entirely an accident).
You groan quietly as you waddle slowly into the hallway and straight to the bathroom. You could hear Jason in the kitchen, cooking and washing the dishes all at once.
You were going to give him a kiss and then throw a carrot or something at him, you plan as you go to the bathroom just in case your baby girl decided to bounce around now that you weren't laying down.
You press your hand to the wall as you exit the bathroom, leaning against it as you follow that smell of food that made you both hungry and nauseous at one.
Your eye land on jason and your plan slips out of your mind, maybe you could convince him to fuck you instead. Were you in a lot of pain? Yes, but he was so hot and your wrecked hormones wanted him.
He finds you with a soft smile that makes you weepy again, “sweetheart, what're you doing out of bed?”
Emotions slip out in a tumble, the cry trapped in your throat falling from you as you babble wetly, about hurting and being dizzy and tired and horny and how much you loved him and how much you hated him.
Jason turns off the stove and rounds the island to gather you in his arms as best he could. It makes you cry more as you try to hug him.
“I want you to hold me,” you cry more before cursing your belly for being in the way.
“Deep breath, mama. Come on. You need to calm down,” he speaks softly, pulling away to rub his hands up and down your arms. One of his hands moves up to wipe at your eye as he takes a performative deep breath for you and you copy him and copy him.
“‘m sorry,” you sniffle, leaning into his warm hand.
He shifts on his feet moving behind you. His hands move to wrap low on your belly and he lifts, “Don’t be I know you're hurting.”
The relief is instant and you almost cry again. Weight off your feet and back ease the aches mildly despite you having done nothing all day. You sigh, sniffling more as you lean back against him, letting him hold the brunt of your body.
Jason noses against your hair line, soft and gentle, “better?”
You hum, hands moving to press up and down his arms where he holds you in appreciation, “I'm so tired, Jay.”
He hates to hear it, the more mournful sound of your voice. He’s never been more grateful that you actually told him you were pregnant rather than running away. He couldn't imagine leaving you to do this alone.
“I know,” he murmurs, “and I know it doesn't make you feel better but only a couple of weeks and she'll be here.”
You'd bemoan the idea of doing this any longer if it weren't for the way Jason says she. Your baby girl was going to be here soon.
It didn't zap the pain from your body but it did make the weight of everything feel a bit lighter. It was just one day rougher than most days but you would be holding your baby soon and that made alright.
“It does make me feel better,” you tell him. He gently shuffles you to the couch and the moment his hands leave your belly, you bite down the urge to complain.
A few more weeks, just a few more weeks. You remind yourself. You settle heavy against the couch and Jason eagerly helps you put your feet up on the coffee table, tucking a pillow under your heels to hide the bite of wood.
He kisses your cheek, your eye, then your forehead, "I'm going to start a bath for you, one with lots of Epsom salts. Does that sound good?”
You laugh still teary as you nod. A few months prior to your pregnancy. You had gone through a phase of trying to ease the everyday aches of being a vigilante for Jason. You'd gone out of your way and bought loads of Epsom salts, some scented, some not, just so he could bathe and relax in the comfort of your home.
It helped but he called you the most precious excessive caretaker ever after you forced him into the bath every day for a month. You eased up after that but every once and while, on the colder days in Gotham, he'd let you draw one of those baths for him and now he was doing it for you.
“Jason,” you call out as he walks to the bathroom. He pauses hand on the wall as he looks back at you, “I really love you, you know that right?”
“Yeah, I know,” he offers a bit of a shy smile, “I love you too.”
He disappears and your hands drift over your belly. You definitely needed to lotion up after the bath, maybe it would ease the way your skin felt so stretched. There's a small bump against your hand.
“Yeah, hi,” you say to your belly, “it's evening, baby. You should be settling down, not waking up. This is why I'm so tired all the time.”
You rub over the press of foot or hand with fond annoyance.
“Dad’s makin’ a bath,” you slouch more on the couch, trying to find a comfortable position for your back ache, “I know you're always in water and it's fun and all but your mama needs to chill out. Do you ever notice when I'm in the bath? Or like in the shower? Does it sound like its raining in there?”
There’s silence because of course there is. Your response though does come in what you dub a very rude push against your rib. Your nose wrinkles at the uncomfortable motion. Jason catches it as he comes back.
“What is it?” He asks as he pulls tissues from the box on the coffee table and knees to wipe the mess of tears off your face.
“Your daughter’s awake,” you huff, though there's a smile on your lips.
“My daughter,” he coos as he kneels to talk to your belly, “no daughter of mine is mean to mom. You be nice in there, little miss.”
The pressure against your ribs ease and it makes you roll your eyes, “Already a daddy's girl. Can I take a bath now?”
Jason easily scoops you up, even with the added weight of the baby growing inside you. You curl your arms around his neck tighter just in case and he must catch it.
He scoffs as he carries you to the bathroom, “You don't trust me or something?”
“Or something” you murmur as he sets you down on your feet in the steamy bathroom. He helps you out of your clothes and into the bathtub.
“You're a genius,” you mutter as you settle in the water, aches already lessening as you close your eyes.
His hand settles on your belly, covering the only part not under water, your belly button, “anything for my girls”
You feel your baby shift again, a bump against Jason's hand. Whether it's to seek out her father or just from the extra warmth of the water, you'll never know.
“I think she likes baths,” Jason comments.
Your wet hand moves to cover his, “I think she likes you, I know I do.”
“My girl” he coos leaning down to kiss at your head.
okay so the reader finding out she’s pregnant with Jason’s baby but doesn’t want to tell him because she’s scared of his reaction and tries to leave without telling him but he finds out anyway? (could it be angst to fluff and include the batfamily?)
Thanks for the request! This is one of those that I got a little carried away with but I the idea. I briefly forgot about the 'tries to leave' part so half way throw I said its time to cause a problem. Also I had taken a Developmental Psychology class a few years back and we did have a section on fetal development that helped a lot with this. happy to use my education for something, lol. I hope you guys like it!
also warmings( just in case): Pregnancy (obv), but slightly smut implied
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Pregnant.
That digital word mocked you even weeks after you'd thrown out the test. You weren't upset. You were actually ecstatic about it. You were growing an Itty bitty baby that you and Jason had made together. It’s just you didn't know what Jason thought about it.
Mostly because you hadn't told him and weren't really sure if you were going to tell him. You'd never talked about it, having kids.
You had finally settled into a rhythm with each other in your apartment. Your relationship was moving forward, he found a real job at a mechanic shop down the street, while still doing his vigilanteing. Life was comfortable, which was something you never thought you could get with a vigilante boyfriend.
You had talked about marriage though, kind of. It had been an off comment, a tease about him having a stronger opinion on something if you were his wife.
Minus the short marriage talk, you don't know that your relationship would survive a baby. You want it to. You want it to so badly it aches. You love Jason more than anything and you know he loves you but you don't know if he even likes kids.
Sure, there was Lian. You two babysat her all the time but that was different. Lian was the easiest kid you'd ever been around and she was toddler and not yours and Jason's.
Aside from that, you know Jason had a tough childhood and that he had internalized a lot of it whether he knew it or not. His father figures were OCD Batman and an absent father, not great choices. You knew that's what Jason would say, could visualize it in your mind. He'd say he couldn’t be a good father because he had sucky examples.
In the weeks since you'd taken the test, you'd gone in cycles. Near neurotic panic, nauseating sadness, and overwhelming love for everything.
You think Jason knows something’s up. He'd been especially soft with you. Kissing away both happy and upset tears, rubbing your back as you threw up. You told him you were sick, the flu at the same time as your period that totally crashed at your usual hormone cycle. He believed you but you didn't know for how long.
The potential of a slip up came sooner than you expected. You hadn't been showing yet only looking slightly bloated rather than pregnant. It didn't stop Jason from touching you, wanting you the way he usually did.
Even though you felt gross half the time, you didn't stop him. If only because you felt like you wanted Jason more than ever, the way he'd shudder when you touched him just so, the flush of his skin. You felt a little feral about it.
You finally had to stop it though, despite the way you wanted to trap him in bed. You'd noticed two things while he was gone on overnight mission helping Dick with something.
You'd been watching TV, volume low as you tried to drag yourself into the realm of sleep. It was an odd flutter in your stomach. You thought you were going to throw up your dinner. You had stood slowly and made your way to the bathroom but you paused before you reached it as the feeling moved. You went to the bedroom instead and stood in front of the full length mirror.
You stare at yourself and press a hand to your stomach. You don't feel anything on the outside, no punching hands or jutting feet from a growing infant but you can still feel them moving around inside you. You turn slightly and tug up Jason's sweatshirt.
You stare and stare at your belly. It was like over night your bloated stomach changed shape to a very distinct bump. Your hand settles against your skin. The tears start before you can stop them and you blubber quietly to yourself and your baby.
“Hi, you're awake. I can feel you.” You rub over the little bump like you could touch them as you cry. Your feet moved without thought back to the living. You pick up your phone and call Jason.
He picks up on the first ring, “is everything okay? What's wrong?”
“Jason,” you say his name through happy tears before they stop your lips dropping into a frown.
“Sweetheart? What is it? Talk to me” He says with a tone heavy with concern.
“I’m sorry. I just missed you.” You drop to the couch, hand settling on your belly in defeat. You wanted to tell him your baby was moving, that you were showing, that you were pregnant. You fear takes over instead. Even if you found the courage he deserved to be told in person.
“I miss you too, baby” he coos and your eyes grow wet again.
“I love you, Jason.” You cry and he rushes to placate you even over the phone.
“I love you too, you know that. Are you sure you're okay?”
“Yeah,” you sniffle, “be safe, okay?”
“You know it. Get some sleep, honey. Love you.”
“Love you” you answer wetly before hanging up.
You call Cass next. In your overt worry you had managed to pull yourself together for doctor visits but the fear of doing it all alone the first time wasn't something you could take. You'd told Cass because you knew she'd keep quiet about it even though she insisted you tell Jason.
She answers with a bang followed by a grunt and then silence.
“You okay?” She finally asks after a beat. You forgot with it being the middle of the night that she would be on patrol.
“She moved,” you whisper. It surprises you a second. You hadn't gendered the baby before.
“Did she? Could I feel her if I came over?” Her excitement bleeds into her words and simmers your anxiety with Jason.
“No, not yet. She's just moving around on the inside. No kicks yet.”
“Dang it.” You barely hear her mutter and it makes you smile.
“I called Jason.” You tell her weakly.
“You told him?” she asks, surprised.
“No. I just wasn't thinking and I called him to tell him and I just couldn't, Cass. What am I doing?” you listen to her sigh across the line.
“What you think is right. You know I think you should tell, if you don't he'll figure it out anyways. You know he will.” She answers quietly but you can't tell if it's to calm you or because she’s stalking someone.
“I'll tell him.”
“You will?”
“Just not yet.”
You hear her heavy sigh through the line, “I’m coming over after this and I'm bringing Spoiler.”
She leaves you no room for argument. You agree and hang up. You slump on the couch, rubbing a hand on your newly discovered baby bump.
*****
Jason returns the next day with an air of exhaustion to him. You don't like seeing him so tired but just this once you're grateful. After greeting you with a kiss and soft utterance of ‘missed you’ and ‘love you’, he went straight to bed. It gave you some time to try and make a plan. Jason was usually pretty handsy after a mission, the lingering adrenaline really got him going.
You came up with a few evade tactics. You couldn't let him get your clothes off, at least your sweatshirts and hoodies that you were using to hide the baby bump from him. You certainly couldn't let him touch your belly either, even if he was just hugging you.
The first near slip was after he woke up. You were washing the dishes and he came up behind you, hand sliding over your hip. You jolt, soapy hand grasping at his to stop its movement. Your turn abruptly to face him, water spraying slightly onto his shirt. He gives you a questioning look.
“Hi,” you say, a little breathless, and give him what you hope is a confident smile.
“Hi, baby. You okay?” his other hand meets your other hip just holding you.
“Yeah, ‘course. Why wouldn’t I be?” you rush out. His features turn into one of concern.
“Are you sure?”
Your hands press into his wrist, pulling them away from your body, “Yeah, I’m just not in any mood, you know? And you scared me a little is all.”
His arms grow limp in your hold. Your chest aches a little as you watch a frown from on his lips.
“Sorry, sweetheart.” he says and you hate how he sounds upset. You shift on your tip toes to press a kiss to the edge of his mouth.
“It's okay. I’m not mad.”
*****
It turns out you can only resist Jason so much. You don't even know how it happened but you end up on your back in bed later that evening. Spit slick lips pressed together as Jason settles between your legs, hand skimming up your thighs. The heat of his hand against the bare skin of your hip makes you freeze, hand shooting down to grab his. It takes nearly a minute for him to stop kissing down your neck, finally noticing your halting.
He shifts up on his forearm to look down at you, brows pinched. Your hand that had been tangled in his hair moves to swipe a thumb over the crease.
“You don't wanna?” he asks, “still in any mood? It's okay if you're not a sweetheart. You know I don’t want anything you don't want.”
The worst part of Jason's concerns and question is that you were in the mood. It burned in your blood, panties damp. You just didn't want him to see the bump.
“I know, Jay. I know. I’m just-” what excuse did you have to not fully undress, “bloated. I don't look good right now.”
He gives you an unimpressed look, “When has that ever bothered me, honey. You're beautiful.” He leans down and kisses gently at your cheek, “even if you were a worm, or a rat, or a squirrel.”
You laugh then, a wet giggle of affection, as you stroke his cheek, “Thank you Jay, but can I leave my sweatshirt on. Please.”
“If that's what you want, sweetheart. You won't get too hot?” you shake your head at his question.
It turns out Jason definitely does not need you naked to pleasure you. After, you lay awake staring at Jason as he sleeps. Even if you could manage to convince him you had to wear a hoodie or sweatshirt every time, Jason was still too touchy even when you weren't having sex. This was going to be harder than you thought.
*****
It takes nearly a month before everything comes crashing down. You were visiting the manor for a weekend lunch, just checking in. You were thankful for the cold fall weather, it gave you an excuse to keep your hoodie on even in the house.
You think Jason was starting to become suspicious or at least a little upset. You had become very talented at spinning out his hold before he could touch your belly but every week you watched it grow. It was odd the way you could feel her moving inside you.
You had gone twice for your monthly visits and twice you had felt incredibly lonely. You were starting to hate how unfair it all felt and how much it was your fault but you were still scared of how Jason would react. You tried to broach the idea of children to him in conversation, just to get where his head was at, but every time he would just shrug his shoulders.
You were set on getting some girl time with Cass and Steph, who had joined your little secret baby society that night the baby started moving. You weren't sure of it, because you felt the baby move all the time, but you think she was starting to kick. That if someone were to touch your belly, they would feel her too. You needed someone to test though to be sure. It was before lunch was served that you split from Jason and dragged the girls into a separate room.
“You're growing so fast!” Steph exclaimed when you pulled up your sweatshirt. Both girls had a hand on you before you could blink. The three of you stood in silence for a minute before Cass looked at you.
“Are you still throwing up?” she asks, hand still on your belly.
“Not really. Just nausea every once and a while.” you shrug.
“Shhhh,” Steph hushes you both and you smile as she leans closer to belly. You were happy that, even though you hadn't told Jason, you still had the girls, supportive as ever.
Steph gasps and drags Cass hand over to where hers was. They both look at you with wide eyes and grins.
“Dude, there's a baby in there.”
You snort at Steph’s statement, “Really, Steph? I hadn't noticed.”
A knock on the door has you tugging your hoodie down quickly as Alfred calls out that lunch was ready. You three take your time meandering to the dining room. You don't miss the upset look that Jason throws you as you sit down. It has you sitting a little closer to slip your hand around his. Lunch goes as it usually does, too many people talking all at once. Jason was being suspiciously silent. You wonder if one of his brothers had already gotten on his nerves. It's as you’re laughing at something Duke was telling you when Jason asks a question that throws everybody for a loop.
“Are you cheating on me?” The dining room goes quiet surprisingly quickly.
“What?” you blink at him.
“You heard me.”
You look around at his family, an odd surrealness to that fact that he’s bringing this concern up right at this moment, “You want to have this conversation right now?”
“I haven't done anything wrong. Have you?” he gives you that upset look again and it makes your eyes prickle with the heat of tears.
“Jason,” Cass says his name like a warning.
“You two know about this, don't you?” He gestures to her and Steph.
“It’s not like that,” Steph jumps to defend you. You don't wait for more of the conversation, a nausea you hadn't felt since earlier in your pregnancy hitting you. You push out of your seat and rush out of the dining room. You barely hear Cass of all people yell at Jason, “What’s wrong with you?”
You barely make it to the nearest bathroom before you’re puking up your lunch. Even afte,r you cry. How could Jason even think that you would do something like that? Cass finds you first, settling with you where you cry on the floor. It was too dramatic of a reaction you think, but your wacked out hormones only made it worse.
“Why would he-” you choke on the question. Cass’s hand grips yours.
“Boy talk.” she says, “you haven’t been as touchy with him. All the boys thought it meant you were seeing someone else, pulling away.”
“He would've known, Cass, if I had let him touch me. I just- he hates me now.” you cry.
She coos at you, “He doesn't hate you, he’s just confused.”
You shake your head in disbelief. This wouldn't work. Jason didn't want you anymore, he wouldn't want the baby. You couldn't stay.
“I should leave,” You say, wiping your tears, “I should leave Gotham. It’ll be easier.”
“Let's not do anything dramatic now,” Cass says, shaking her head. You ignore her and try to push yourself to your feet.
“Help please,” you ask with your hand out. Even as she helps you, she tries to talk you down.
“You can't just leave. You should talk it out.” she tells you as you walk out of the bathroom and head for the front door.
“Leave? You're leaving?”Jason appears in the hallway and walks around him.
“You don't want me anymore. You think I would cheat on you.” you sniffle as you walk away.
“Well are you?”
“No!” you turn back to him with sudden anger. You can't believe he was even asking you that again.
“Then why-”
“I’m pregnant and you're the father! But you don't want me or this, so I’m leaving Gotham.” you turn back to your original route.
****
I’m pregnant and you're the father.
Jason couldn't believe those words had left your mouth. He stands there stunned staring at the spot you had been standing. You were pregnant. You were going to have a baby, his baby.
“Hey, asshole. You gonna just let her leave?” Steph’s voice kicks him from his shocked stare. He turns to find his entire family watching through the doorway, Dick and Tim with guilty looks. He knew he shouldn't have talked to them about it.
He takes off after you, out the front door and down the steps. He finds the driver side of the door propped open. You’ve got your face buried in your hands as you cry in despair. It stabs him right through the heart. This was all his fault. The love of his life, the mother of his child crying in the midst of a failed runaway. He hated it.
He eases onto his knees on the ground next to you, “Baby?”
“I don't have the car keys,” you cry. He doesn't know why he hadn't figured this out sooner. You had been crying an awful lot recently.
“Do you really want the car keys?” you sniffle as you drop your hands to look at him.
“You don't want me anymore.” You state.
“I never said that sweetheart.” his hand press gently into your knee.
“You thought I was cheating on you.” You frown at him.
“Only for thirty minutes and I’m sorry for ever thinking such a thing. Please forgive me.”
You're quiet for a moment and Jason’s never felt so on edge. Then, slowly, you curl your hand on top of his.
“Jason, I’m scared.” You quietly admit. With your returned affection, he sits a little straighter to slide his hand around the side of your neck, thumb stroking at the hollow of your cheek.
“Why’re you scared?” He murmurs.
“I don't think you want this.” your free hand presses to your stomach and Jason watches the fabric of your hoodie mold to the shape of your belly, a bump you’d done surprisingly well at hiding from him.
“Is it what you want?” He asks you. Truth be told, Jason hadn't put much thought into having children. It was only after he met you that he even thought there was a future worth living for, something to come home safe too.
“I do. I want it with you, Jay.” His hand moves from your knee to join your hand at your belly.
“Then I do too. You should know by now that I want everything with you.” he coos quietly, “Can I see it? Your belly that you’ve been hiding.”
You nod slowly and drag your sweatshirt up. Jason’s surprised. You're bigger than he expected. He eases his hand over your skin in awe and then he feels it, the little bump against his hand. He looks up at you with wide eyes but you're staring down at your belly with teary adoration.
“Baby, how long?”
You give him a shameful look when you meet his eyes, “The doctor says I should be about 20 weeks along.”
Jason does some quick mental math in his head, “You’re five months pregnant.”
“Four and a half.”
“Sweetheart.”
“I’ve only known for about two and a half. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” You rush out apologetic.
“No, no. I’m sorry for making you think you had to hide it from me. I love you and I will always want you and I want this, okay?” He stares you down to be sure you got it. He watches your eyes grow wet again before throwing your arms around his shoulders, hugging him awkwardly from your seat in the car.
“I love you, Jason,” You breath out ragged against his neck. You stay like that long enough that Jason begins to worry about the odd twist of your back. He indulges longer than he should’ve, his hand still on your stomach feeling the slight shift of the baby.
“We should go inside, yeah? Finish up lunch.” he eases away from and kisses your lips lightly before moving to wipe the tear stains from your cheeks.
He watches your face shift into an embarrassed pout, “I made a fool of myself.”
“No, I made an ass of myself for listening to my idiot brothers. You have nothing to be ashamed of.” He gently tugs you out the car and helps you back to the house.
*****
There’s quite the line up when you two enter the house. The entire family is waiting for you in the foyer. Dick and Tim are quick with apologies.
“To be fair though, we did not tell him to throw you under the bus in front of everyone like that,” Dick justifies slightly. You frown at it and he rushes to correct it, “Not that matters. What matters is everything's worked out now, right?”
You look at Jason. His hand hadn’t left your back since he’d helped you from the car. You find him already staring at you, this new look of love in his eyes. Jason had always looked at you like he loved you but this seemed different.
“Everything’s fine now. He’s not allowed to come to you two for advice anymore.” You state. Tim rubs at the back of his neck, nodding.
“Yeah, that's fair.”
Bruce clears his throat, the crowd around you all looking at their imposing father figure, “Is there something you’d like to share with us?”
There’s a hint of a smile that you’d seen only a number of times, like he was making a joke that he knew only he would find funny.
“Hardly announcement, father. She shouted it across the Manor.” Damian juts in. He hovers closer, having been unexpectedly quiet, “The child is in good health.”
The way he says it has you squinting down at the boy before glancing over at the girls, “Did you tell him?”
They both shake their heads. You turn to stare down Damian.
“You weren't eating salami. You love salami. You didn't have any soft serve ice cream when we went to the zoo. And of course the morning sickness. Accessing your records at Gotham General was of little challenge.”
“Damian, we talked about looking up people's medical records.” Bruce sighs.
“Hold on,” Jason interrupts, “you told Steph and Cass?”
“I didn't want to go to the doctors alone. I told Cass so it's no surprise Steph followed.” you explain.
“That feels like it should be offensive. Is that offensive?” Steph asks and you shake her head her.
“Okay, before this becomes another disaster. I am pregnant, as I ‘shouted’ early. Jason’s the father, no cheating. Four and a half months along.” You pull the fabric of your hoodie taut, baby bump evident, “She is in good health and she’s started moving a lot more.”
“She?” Jason questions quietly.
“Well, I’ve been calling them she but, I'm not sure. The sonogram for the sex is in two weeks but I just kind of feel like they’re a girl, you know?”
“Mother’s intuition?” he offers and you blink. It startles you a bit. You'd been so worried about the hiding and your’s and the baby’s health, you hadn't sat and thought about how you were about to become a parent. You were going to be mom and Jason was going to be a dad. Your eyes well up again.
“No offense, dude, but how did you not know?” Duke asks and it makes you laugh wetly.
*****
When you get home, Jason has you lay out for him in a tank top instead of your hoodie. He lays by your belly and talks for what feels like hours. You cry off and on and Jason, your sweet Jason, would pause to kiss at your tears and mutter apologies before going back to talking to your baby.
This is what you had wanted the entire time. You wish you had just talked to him but Jason didn't seem to hold it against you, his hand pressing sweetly against your belly.
“I'll get Dick and Tim to help move everything out of the office. It can be their punishment for convincing me you were cheating.” He mutters quietly and it takes you a moment to realize he's talking to you.
“What are you talking about?” You question, hand sliding into his hair.
“For the nursery. We're months behind, babe.” You stare at him. He'd know less then twenty four hours and his mind was already moving full steam ahead. You hadn't even thought about a nursery.
“I'm sorry,” you frown and he shifts away from your belly to hover over your face.
“That wasn't a jab, sweetheart. You're just making it a fun challenge. How much can we get done before she's here?” It's playful, the way he comforts you. He leans down to kiss at the corner of your eye and it makes you squirm.
“Hopefully everything.” You huff before relaxing back down into the bed, “jason, I’m hungry.”
“What do you want? I can make something, a warm soup maybe?” As he speaks, he kisses your face. You gnawed on your lip. You fought to be quiet about your cravings because of how weird they sounded but Jason knew now. He could find how insane your stomach had become.
“Pickles.”
He sits to make a face at you, “pickles?”
“Covered in chocolate syrup.” You add quietly.
Jason's face contours, nose wrinkling in disgust before it molds into some more neutral, “you want pickles covered in a chocolate syrup?”
“Yeah,” you nod slowly, “could you drizzle some chili oil on it too?”
“Babe,” he sighs like he's in pain, "I'm trying really hard to be supportive but that sounds disgusting.”
“I know,” you shrug, “but it tastes good to me.”
“You've eaten it before?” He sounds astonished as he questions you.
“I do loads of stuff without you knowing.”
“Lame. You should tell me everything, honey.” He coos before kissing you slowly. He pulls away only to stare into your eyes, “I'll make your weird food for you but only because I love you.”
You grin up at him and peck at his lips, "I love you.”
As Jason wanders out of the bedroom, you sit up and rub at your belly, “that was your dad. I don't think I've seen him talk to someone so much. You should get used to his voice and his stories. He's only a little insane sometimes. It's okay because he loves so much and that includes you, baby. You're going to be so loved you won't know what to do with it all.”
“Where's the chili oil?” Jason yells from the kitchen.
You snort before pushing yourself off the bed, "He's also really not observant when it comes to you and me. I'm going to teach you to get away with so much stuff.”
Hii do you think you could ever make smau’s in portuguese? I’m learning portuguese and it would be a really fun way to practice!
Sorry if its a weird ask 😭😭
They're trying to learn your mother tongue!
Featuring: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne and Duke Thomas.
Content: Fluff. SMAU. A bunch of words in portuguese.
N/A: OMG YESYES THANK YOU FOR YOUR REQUEST!! i tried to make these in the best way possible but it can get a little confusing, so you might want to write some things down and search it later lol! IM REALLY SORRY IF THIS IS BAD 😭
Sooooo cool to see something in Portuguese BUT honestamente é muito estranho KKKKKKKK parece errado demais e o Jay me chamando de princesa???? Quem é essa???
The apartment smelled like vanilla, cinnamon, and burnt sugar at 2:17am.
You were in the kitchen again, sleeves rolled up, hair tied back with a pencil, surrounded by mixing bowls and scattered flour like a battlefield. The oven hummed warmly. A tray of chocolate chip muffins was cooling on the counter, another batch of banana bread was in the oven, and you were already measuring ingredients for lemon poppy seed cookies.
Stress baking had become your ritual.
Exams. Work deadlines. The general chaos of living in Gotham while trying to pretend you were a normal person with a normal life. When the anxiety got too loud, you baked. It was productive. It was soothing. It filled the apartment with something warm and sweet when everything else felt cold and sharp.
The front door clicked open.
Jason stepped in, still in his Red Hood gear, other than the helmet, white-streaked hair messy, shoulders tense from whatever the night had thrown at him. He paused in the doorway, taking in the scene - you covered in flour, the counter a disaster zone, the oven light glowing like a beacon.
“Again?” he asked, voice rough but not unkind. He kicked off his boots and shrugged off his jacket, hanging it by the door. “What’s got you stress-baking at two in the morning this time?”
You didn’t look up from the mixing bowl. “Everything. Midterms. My boss being a jerk. The fact that I burned the last batch because I was thinking too hard. Take your pick.”
He crossed the room, leaning against the counter beside you. Up close, you could see the faint bruises on his knuckles and the tired lines around his eyes. He looked like he’d had a rough night too.
“You know you don’t have to bake the entire bakery every time life sucks, right?” he said, but there was a hint of a smile in his voice. “We’re running out of counter space.”
You shrugged, stirring the batter a little too vigorously. “It helps. Keeps my hands busy. Makes the apartment smell nice. And you eat everything I make, so don’t complain.”
Jason huffed a laugh, reaching over to steal a still-warm muffin from the cooling rack. He took a bite, eyes closing for a second like it was the best thing he’d tasted all night.
“These are good,” he admitted. “Better than the last ones. Less… charcoal.”
You swatted his arm with the wooden spoon. “One time. And you still ate them.”
“Because you made them.” He said it casually, but his eyes lingered on you a little longer than necessary. “You always make them when you’re worried. So what’s really going on?”
You paused, spoon hovering over the bowl. The truth felt too heavy to say out loud, but Jason had a way of looking at you like he already knew.
“Everything feels too much lately,” you said quietly. “School. Work. The city being… Gotham. I just needed something that makes sense. Measuring cups. Recipes. Things that turn out right if you follow the steps.”
Jason was quiet for a moment. Then he set the half-eaten muffin down and stepped closer, gently taking the spoon from your hand.
“You don’t have to carry it all alone,” he said, voice low. “I know I’m not exactly the easiest person to live with. I come home late. I leave blood on the towels sometimes. I don’t talk about the shit I see out there. But I’m here. If you need me to be.”
Your chest tightened. You looked up at him - the white streak in his hair, the scars on his hands, the way his green eyes softened when they met yours. Jason Todd was a lot of things. Brooding. Guarded. A walking storm of trauma and sarcasm.
But with you, he tried.
“I know,” you whispered. “You’re here. That helps more than you know.”
He reached out, brushing a streak of flour from your cheek with his thumb. The touch was surprisingly gentle for someone with hands like his. His fingers lingered, tracing your jaw for a second before he pulled back, like he’d caught himself doing something too soft.
“Tell me what to do,” he said. “I’m shit at baking, but I can follow directions. Let me help.”
You smiled, small and grateful. “You can stir the next batch. And maybe chop the nuts without turning them into dust this time.”
He rolled his eyes, but there was a faint smile on his lips. “Smartass.”
You worked side by side in the small kitchen, shoulders brushing occasionally, the quiet filled with the clink of bowls and the hum of the oven. Jason was surprisingly focused, following your instructions with careful precision. Every so often he’d glance at you, like he was checking that you were really okay.
When the latest batch was in the oven, you both leaned against the counter, sharing a stolen warm muffin between you. Jason broke off a piece and held it out for you to take a bite. His fingers brushed your lips, sending a little spark down your spine.
“You’re good at this,” he said quietly. “Taking care of things. Taking care of me, even when I don’t ask. I don’t say it enough, but… thank you.”
Your heart did a slow, warm roll in your chest. You leaned into his side, resting your head on his shoulder. He didn’t pull away. Instead, his arm came around your waist, pulling you closer.
“You don’t have to thank me,” you murmured. “I like taking care of you. Even when you’re grumpy and covered in flour.”
He chuckled, the sound low and warm. His hand stroked slow circles on your hip, thumb brushing under the hem of your shirt just enough to make your skin tingle. The touch was comforting, but there was a quiet heat in it too - a suggestion of more that neither of you rushed.
“You make the bad nights easier,” he admitted after a while. “Coming home to the smell of whatever you’re baking. Seeing you in my hoodie with flour on your nose. It feels… normal. In a good way.”
You tilted your head up, smiling softly. “You make the long nights easier too. Even when you come home at 4am and steal half the cookies before I wake up.”
He grinned, caught. “Guilty.”
The oven timer dinged. Jason reluctantly let you go so you could pull out the latest batch. He watched you, eyes soft in the warm kitchen light, like you were the best thing he’d seen all night.
When everything was cooling on the counter, he pulled you back into his arms, wrapping you up in a hug from behind. His chin rested on your shoulder, breath warm against your neck.
“Stay with me tonight?” he murmured. “Not for anything else. Just… don’t want to be alone after the shit I saw out there. And I sleep better when you’re around.”
You leaned back against his chest, nodding. “Yeah. I’d like that.”
He pressed a soft kiss to the side of your neck, then another to your temple. His hands stayed on your waist, warm and steady, holding you like you were something precious he didn’t want to break.
In the quiet kitchen, surrounded by the smell of fresh baked goods and the steady warmth of Jason’s body behind you, the stress of the day finally started to fade.
And every late-night baking session, every stolen muffin, every quiet hug in the kitchen felt like proof that maybe - just maybe - the two of you were building something good in the middle of all the chaos.
Something that felt a lot like home.
a/n : based on the fact my friend let himself into my house only to see me baking my third batch of cookies for a party..! yay.
slow kisses ﹙ jason todd x fem!reader ﹚ 🦇 ── cw: insecure jay, kinda angst with comfort, yearner!jason.
lizzie's yapping: yes I do adore this man.
Jason Todd is a man who kisses slowly. Especially when you're in his apartment, where he feels safe—where the warmth wrapping around his aching heart makes him wonder if he truly deserves all this peace he feels beside you. Because every time he places his hands on you, he feels like he's tainting you, like he's leaving a rotten mark on the perfection of your skin. That's how he sees himself, after all. As a man who only deserves to be beaten to death—something not important enough to be avenged.
So yes, Jason Todd definitely prefers to kiss you slowly. He wants to be selfish and memorize the taste of your mouth, so that if one day you leave, he’ll still have the warmth of your soft lips against his cracked ones forever etched into him. He tried to walk away so many times, before your hands gently cupped his cheek, as if you truly believed that was how he deserved to be touched.
Of course, you had to kiss him first—because if it were up to him, he would’ve kept drowning in his feelings, the ones that tore him apart every time he looked at you, knowing he would never be able to tell you how he felt in that moment, how desperately he wanted to be your life partner, your object of affection and devotion. You deserved something better, so much better than a body marked by scars and trauma that made him feel broken. And yet, at the same time, he felt like he was dying while still alive without your love.
But when you looked at him—without caring about his past or his present—when you told him you loved him, tragedy and all… that was the day Jason Todd truly came back to life. He wasn’t the man consumed by rage anymore, nor the confused, wounded boy. He was simply Jason. Your Jason. Yours, for you to do with as you pleased.
And what you did was take care of him.
Fear and insecurity remained buried deep within him, so when he kissed you, he always took his time.
He cradles your cheeks with both hands—whether you’re standing or sitting in his lap, he always has a hand on your face. First, he kisses the corner of your mouth, then slowly moves over your lips, tasting, memorizing. Slow doesn’t mean lacking intensity, though. Jason Todd is an intense man. He holds you like you’re his entire world while slipping his tongue into your mouth, nose brushing yours every time he tilts his head to deepen the kiss. Soon it turns wet, his breathing growing heavy—you can hear it, feel it, how that slowness is killing him.
Both your hearts pound hard, trying to reach each other. But his always beats a little faster, especially when your hands rest on his chest or when you thread your slender fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck.
And before pulling away, he gently bites your lower lip. Then he looks at you… oh, those eyes were pleading.
He doesn’t say it often—he was never good at putting feelings into words—but his actions speak for him, and that look especially screams louder than a thousand words: "please— keep loving me, I can be better for you, I’d give up everything for a life by your side."
Jason Todd is definitely the kind of man whose insecurity makes him kiss you slowly, just in case tomorrow you realize he’s not enough.
Landlord!Jason Todd wanted to do something with Bruce’s money. He had seen firsthand the sorrows of Gotham and even though he grew up under a billionaire's wing, poverty was never something one forgot
Landlord!Jason Todd did indeed have a dichotomy of morals from both his days on the street and as Batman’s protege, but one belief he took away from both was that the rich weren’t doing anything to help the majority
Landlord!Jason Todd took his remarks to Bruce. The billionaire was a philanthropist but urged his son to do the same. He gave Jason enough funds to buy a series of apartment buildings from corrupt landlords who were grossly overcharging their tenants
Landlord!Jason Todd entirely changed things. He lowered the rent and incorporated fixed prices. People came flocking in and soon he was making a steady profit. It also helped that he was skilled in handy things around the buildings and didn’t need to pay for plumbers or electricians unless truly out of his depth. (His childhood days stealing hubcaps and working with his hands were extremely useful. Who knew?)
Landlord!Jason Todd knew you as a name on a lease. You had moved into one of his apartments after graduating from Gotham University and needed a cheap place to live
Landlord!Jason Todd had met you once, when you first moved in. He gave you his number and you saved him in your phone as “Hot Landlord”
Landlord!Jason Todd showed up in jeans and a tight white t-shirt. From the moment you let him into your apartment, he could feel the heat. Your A/C was definitely not working. Controversy, you were in a tank-top and shorts. As he got to work, he wiped a sheen of sweat from his forehead. Meanwhile, you were all but gawking at your landlord. You knew a lot of pornos started this way, but holy shit, you didn’t understand the appeal until now. Not only was he hot, but it was like Jason’s presence in your apartment followed you. You tried to get some work done – dishes, emails, and whatnot, but you were acutely aware of him
Landlord!Jason Todd tried not to listen into your call when your phone rang, but what else was he supposed to do? The conversation didn’t get interesting until your voice dropped and you muttered into the phone, “babes, my hot landlord is here fixing my A/C. God, it’s like a fine snack just there in my living room.” You laughed and continued, “I almost wanna go in being like, ‘oh, no, I can’t pay my rent! However can I repay you?’”
Landlord!Jason Todd was a gentleman and didn’t wanna capitalise on that, especially since he didn’t know if you were joking or not, but his pants definitely got tighter
Landlord!Jason Todd knew he was attractive – he had been hit on many times before, but he did let his mind wander as if to what might happen with you. He wasn’t blind, after all, and your tank-top didn’t leave much to the imagination
Landlord!Jason Todd fixed the A/C and left but was horribly distracted the rest of the day
Landlord!Jason Todd got another text from you three weeks later. There was apparently a problem with your fridge. Jason was in the middle of a Bat-family dinner and just stood up, his chair screeching out from under him. “Gotta go,” he said simply, ignoring everyone’s protests
Landlord!Jason Todd stepped into your apartment with ease. “No problem at all. What’s the issue?” You were in the middle of dinner yourself and making noodles. You showed him the problem and practically drooled over him as he rolled up his sleeves, kneeled down, and got to work
Landlord!Jason Todd made idle conversation with you, but it wasn’t long before his hands migrated to your legs and his kneeling position aided him greatly in eating you out on the kitchen counter. Your nails dug into his forearms as you gasped out at the sight before you and the sensations Jason was bringing you. One of his hands was spreading your legs apart and the other was anchored on your hip. Your noodles burned, but neither of you cared
Landlord!Jason Todd was a talker during sex. He liked missionary best as you soon learned, wanting to see you as you came apart. That didn’t stop him from driving you into the mattress however, the headboard slamming into the wall. “Don’t worry, I’ll fix the plaster if it breaks,” he reassured you in a gruff voice as sweat beaded on his forehead. “Been thinking about this ever since I fixed the A/C. Heard you on the phone, you know.” You could only let out a little noise as his hips pumped into yours, rocking your body back and forth
Landlord!Jason Todd made fuck-buddies-with-your-landlord a great experience for you. He could stop in whenever and was very good at playing out your fantasies. Suddenly, your appliances just started breaking all the time and so there was no other choice but for him to come over and fix them. Oh no, how horrible. He would refuse any type of payment other than you in bed, clothes stripped off
Landlord!Jason Todd really really liked eating you out. He was a proud eater and would grow out his stubble or shave it, depending on what he wanted to give you that day. His stubble had even turned a lighter colour from how much time he spent between your legs
Landlord!Jason Todd didn’t love quickies or phone sex. He would still do them, especially if you were begging him to, but liked to take his time with you and do multiple rounds
Landlord!Jason Todd was very good at aftercare. He would wrap you up in one of his sweaters he conveniently had brought with him and clean you up so gently. He loved to tuck an arm under your head and you loved to subsequently bite his bicep usually leading to round two
Landlord!Jason Todd who was a bit nervous to ask you out officially. He loved your little rendezvous and knew you did too (you frequently made comments on how perfect his body was and would run your hands through his hair after sex) but didn’t want to fuck it up. Think of how awkward that would make it all, especially because of the power dynamic. He would never even consider using his position as your landlord against you and he made sure to tell you that over the dinner he took you to and the bouquet of flowers he got you
Landlord!Jason Todd who was actually surprised when you laughed and said, “of course I want to go out with you!” He hadn't believed it at first, thinking you had just wanted a good fuck, but when he saw your smile, he knew you were serious
Landlord!Jason Todd was a bit quieter of a man until it came to sex. He would let you take the lead with most conversations and was very polite whenever meeting your friends or family (though you knew his sarcastic sense of humour would come out when he felt more comfortable around them). However, when he had you in bed it was like he had no filter. Every comment about how perfect your body was or how you felt around his cock escaped him. The obscene things he would tell you he was gonna do to you while already fucking you made you even more wet
Landlord!Jason Todd had more talents other than the sex, though. Because of his naturally quiet nature, he was an incredible listener that absorbed things like a sponge. He remembered so many little details about you and utilised them magnificently. He would randomly buy little gifts or send you pictures of your favourite colour out in nature with the caption, “thinking of you,” which he constantly was
Landlord!Jason Todd was an incredible cook as well (everyone, thank Alfred)
Landlord!Jason Todd who, on your one year anniversary, realised your contact name for him still hadn't changed
Landlord!Jason Todd got teased relentlessly by his family about how obsessed he was over you
Landlord!Jason Todd knew he was gonna marry you when you slapped him over the head after mocking Damian at a Bat-family dinner
Landlord!Jason Todd let Bruce pay for the wedding, but Jason paid for the ring
Landlord!Jason Todd who proposed in your apartment after cooking you dinner. He was nervous as hell and stuttered over some words, but knew in his heart that you were it for him. He was so relieved when you said yes
Jason’s friend, you, call him to pick you up after you had little too much to drink at girl’s night, oh and? he’s kinda very in love with you, and likewise. hey be honest can’t you tell i’ve never been drunk *side eye* idk im scared of alcohol chat. it’s nicknames galore here gang. man i might delete this icl
A soft giggle escapes your mouth as you stumble again, heels slipping as you take a step, falling right into a very strong arms. A familiar scent, the gunpowder that never escapes him mixed in, engulfs you as a warm palm is splayed against your lower back, through the thin satin dress, you feel the warmth seep from your skin into his.
“Jay!” You exclaimed giddily, smiling with teeth and everything as you throw your head back, causing your entire body tipping back, Jason’s arms tightening around you. “Careful, careful.” His voice is gentle as he helps you regain your stability, your hands landing on his shoulders to ground yourself.
The bar name-light flickers its neon-self above the pair of you, some generic name you wouldn’t remember in the slosh of Gotham nightlife, but still in the better part of town. You’d sent him your location, obviously, he’s not a possessive friend but it’s…Gotham.
You’re in a dress that Jason immediately identifies as way too thin for this weather, wanting to strip his jacket off and wrap it around you. The only reason you’re a few inches taller than him momentarily is because you’re standing atop a few stair steps as he stands just in front of you at ground level.
“What’re you doing ‘ere?” You drawl sweetly, head swimming in intoxication and cheeks tinted rosy pink, the smell of alcohol apparent. “You called me, sweetheart.” Jason murmurs, glancing around to take note of your surroundings.
“You feel nice.” You sigh as you circle your arms around his neck instinctively, one of his palm still holding you up and the other gently taking your purse from off your shoulder. The stance causes you to lean in closer, your face only inches away from his but he’s too focused on whatever he was doing.
When you’d first met this very man in the Gotham City Library, you were quite taken with him, enamoured even, and when you two fell into the deep traps of friendship, you pushed every whisk of what you felt for him deep, deep into your heart, but the alcohol was certainly loosening you up.
“Oh, yeah?” He asks absentmindedly as he manoeuvres you to get the bag, using the hand that’s not around you to zip open the bag. Your eyes droop with exhaustion and plain sleepiness, your head then swoops down, falling into the crook of his neck, jacket pressing against your forehead. “Hey, we gotta go—” Jason starts.
Jason was, as some might say, an overbearing and overprotective friend. But hey, this is Gotham and he was one of the only good men left. After seeing the darkest horrors of this godforsaken city firsthand, Jason’ll be damned back to hell if he let anything happen to you. So when he practically over-assured you that you should call him if you got too sloshed, that’s exactly what you did.
“You’re warm, Jay.” You mumble against him as your nose slowly lifts off his shoulder and glides up his neck. And he was! Gotham is always so cold and Jason is always so warm! Your arms tighten around him as Jason plucks out the car’s keys from your purse.
“Let’s get in your car, ‘kay? It’ll be comfortable in there—” Jason starts but you let out a content sigh, leaning your entire body weight against him, letting yourself let into his embrace as sleep presses on your eyes.
“And you’re like,” You mumble as your nose bumps into Jason’s ear, causing an steady shiver to pass from Jason’s head to toe, your breath fanning over his ear and down his throat. “Muscular…” Your arms unwrap from him and palms start to map out his shoulders as you lean back with a drunken pout. “…And so big.”
“Quit sexualising me, doll.” Jason chuckles nervously as he gazes across your face, then you lean back a little too much, enough to tip you onto the back of your heels, your entire body toppling backwards again. Jason sighs as his arm around your waist keeps you steady. “Let’s get out of here, yeah?” He nod like he’s trying to convince you, talking slow.
Jason had had been cursing himself for a long time, probably since he first met you. He should’ve walked away, the moment he saw you across the library, giggling while talking to a group of kids around you, he should turned around and taken firm steps out. But he didn’t. What did he do instead? He walked right to you and ask where a book was.
And then you smiled at him, and he smiled back from across the shelves and Jason was done. Then it was the week after that and the next, it was coffee and baked goods, and then here he was, hopelessly, deeply, and irrevocably, in love with you. You smiled at him, and hugged him, and called him your friend.
And to think he might’ve pulled a civilian into his fucked-up life just because he couldn’t help himself to stay out of your presence? The thought keeps him up and night and sources many of his nightmares to say the least. But right now, he was more focused on getting you into bed safely.
Your palms trace their way down his triceps, down to his elbow on each hand and back to his shoulders, pressing against the leather of his jacket. It’s not your fault that you’d always been partial to muscular men, tall muscular men at that. And Jason was all that along with being well read? Whoa.
He’s always had the prettiest eyes, it’s something you loved looking at, a kaleidoscope that traps your gaze and doesn’t let it waver, said eyes now narrowing at you out of concern and worry, classic Jason.
Thoughts in your head were swirling, not arranging themselves in the correct order. He has pretty lips too. Jason’s lips move as he says something but you don’t catch it over a fight that breaks out between three guys down alleyways.
You blink sluggishly as he tried to get your attention again. “Hey. Hey, stay awake for me, doll.” His voice is almost far away when all you can register in your head is how pretty he looks. Your arms go back to their safe place around his neck, his eyes filled with concern. Gosh, you couldn’t even care anymore. All you wanted right now, all that your brain was telling you right now, was to kiss him.
So you do, you lean in, going to close the last few inches and smoosh your lips into his. It takes Jason a moment to register what you’re doing, turning his face to the side at the very last moment, “Nope.” Jason’s voice is strained as your forehead bumps into his temple and a whine escape your throat.
Jason clears his throat, “Not when you’re drunk, c’mon baby.” You perk up at his words, leaning back to look at him properly. “So when I’m not drunk? Then we can kiss?” You pout, rosy cheeks and stray damp hair sticking to your face.
“If you still want to.” Jason nods. This isn’t helping the rate at which his heart is racing, all he can do is hope you can’t hear the thud-thud from his chest. Your mouth stretches into a happy smile, your head tilting as your cheeks become redder, not from the alcohol this time.
“Okay.” You quip as your head swoops back down to his shoulder. Jason takes a moment to compose himself, taking a deep breath of Gotham’s humid night before he whispers into your ear.
“Can I pick you up?” Jason mumbles, one hand still around your waist and one holding onto your purse and car keys. He can came back later and get his bike, he’s definitely not taking you home on that when you’re drunk. He shakes you just a little, prompting your name. “Baby, can I pick you up?”
You nod weakly into his body, honestly you didn’t even care, you just liked being in his arms. It takes a moment for him to manoeuvre you as his free hand slips under your knees, hiking you up into a princess carry, making sure your dress is keeping you covered. Your hands stay around his neck, stealing warmth from his body.
“You’re so pretty, Jay.” You mumble as you manage to blink your eyes open for a moment, catching a glimpse of him under the flickering streetlights and Jason flushes red.
ᯓ★'s P.S. idk this one is soooo messy cause i had the backstory in my head but i did nawtttt want to actually type it into the story and then i couldn’t figure out where to fit it in—ill shut up now. and the ending is lowkey 🤮 because i rushed to finish it
don't forget to comment to reblog if you enjoyed!
← ゛masterlist ⸝⸝.ᐟ⋆
taglist꩜ .ᐟ ALL WORKS @hepprine, @apollos-notes, @cenna-luna, @makreadsalot, @solasyra, @vanillakirstein, @arabellas-barbarella-swimsuit12, @lovehadlovelost, @buckybarnesismyhusband, @xxreyofsunshinexx, @amandjslpz, @punkrockrr, @artisticmindsunite-blog
ALL DC WORKS @indigoscribe, @t1mbits, @coastalcowgirlie, @uxavity, @jaydennicole, @shadowviolets, @athenxt, @soggywhore, @i-gotta-go-so-much-bigger, @rayaofstarlight, @madi-iii, @kekeanna266, @skin2bone111, @fanficboysarebae, @willow-vixen
JASON TODD WORKS @avengingangel14, @cherrylicious03, @the-ultimate-quokka, @drdeathifying, @queenofviolenceandnerds, @rainystrangerwasteland, @caterppillar, @profoundgreenturtle, @celestills, @only-dot-nicky, @sirenoftheeast, @s0zzbat, @vampiranne, @kiraflowersworld, @living-that-chronic-life, @lagataprrr, @nekkiotine
Jason Todd, who calls you 'ma' and 'sweetheart' like they're your actual names.
Jason Todd, who may or may not fantasize about keeping you in bed forever, with an arm wrapped around your waist and the other settled on your warm chest.
Jason Todd, who loves, loves, loves to place his head on your chest, much like a kitten in need of the sunlight's warmth.
Jason Todd, who thinks you're too good for him but would, without a hint of hesitation, kill and die for you. "Trauma?" Who's that? As long as it's for you, there're no odds he can't face.
Jason Todd, who likes to kiss you all over because everything about you is just so precious to him: your tummy, your forehead, your nose, the tip of your fingers, your thighs— you name it.
Jason Todd, who instantly becomes a professional chef the moment you ask him to cook for you. He doesn't even need that, actually: if he sees that you need it, then you're getting the greatest meal you've ever tried.
Jason Todd, who would rather you stay out of his dangerous life. However, if you are already involved, then he will go to whatever lengths necessary to keep you safe.
Jason Todd, who puts your well-being above everything else.
Jason Todd, who adores watching you. Just seeing you be, doing whatever it is you're doing, makes him a lovesick fool. You could be brushing your teeth with a zombie-like face after only two hours of sleep, and he will still come behind you, take you into his arms, and murmur how much you mean to him.
Jason Todd, who holds you after a nightmare, whispering reassuring words against your temple, rocking you back and forth. Don't want to get touched? That's fine, too: he's making you a hot beverage and making sure to stay awake until you feel well enough to go back to sleep.
Jason Todd, who spots you in a crowd like you're the only one there.
Jason Todd, who is immediately soothed by the sound of your voice.
Jason Todd, who makes sure to tell you at least once a day that he loves you.
Jason Todd, who, even during fights, still gets worried about you. He will not take long to knock on your door or send you a message and express regret, shame, or, at the very least, a willingness to talk things out in the future.
Jason Todd, who hates, with a burning passion, people who cheat on their partners. Like, he doesn't get it: how could you betray someone else's trust to the degree that it may take years of therapy for them to heal? Whenever he gets a little mad thinking about it, he asks for you and leaves a few kisses on your neck, swearing never to do something like that to you, because he's "an asshole, but that much of an asshole".
Jason Todd, who is half-convinced that you'll leave him eventually and has decided not to beg for you to stay and let you go, regardless of how much it makes him want to break down.
Jason Todd, who sometimes gets home and needs a big hug where you'll hold him for longer than usual. Please, don't ask. Or ask, but he'll take a sec to get to the root of the issue. Anyway, just hug him, please.
Jason Todd, who fantasizes about a peaceful world where you and he can live at ease.
I don't care what anyone says I know this man has been craving a nice cuddle under a warm blanket for so long
At first he'll put firm boundaries in place, asking you not to touch him in any intimate way, not unless he initiates it
Which makes total sense considering everything he's been through, all the scars on his body that makes him sick to touch
But over time, surprisingly not a long time, he warms up to your touch and even finds himself craving it
It starts small with an arm around your waist and a warm hand placed in yours, but it quickly turns more intimate
Something he never thought he'd have is suddenly there whenever he wants and he doesn't know how to feel about it
He gets more comfortable with things he never thought would be so nice
He lays his head in your lap as you lay on the couch watching TV, showing a kind of vulnerability neither of you ever expected
He starts sleeping without his shirt on and continuously pulls you closer to him
He almost always has a hand on you now
Now that he's comfortable he's not even gonna think twice before keeping his arm around you or laying his hand comfortably on your thigh
He can't even begin to understand why he feels the happiest he's ever been when you do something as simple as playing with his hair or placing your lips to one of his many scars
Safe to say once he gets to this stage, there's no way to go back
p.s he will totally pout the entire day if you lean away from his touch
Summary: Alfred (with the help of batmom) convinces the family to do press work or the Wayne family do a series of popular internet interviews.
Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Batmom; Batfam x Batmom
Warning: Sibling Dynamics, chronically online batkids/chronically offline Bruce, Jason was missing presume dead in this universe, usage of Y/N, pregnancy
Wordcount: TBD
Notes: there are people asking, so yes there will be a taglist. Just leave a comment and I will add you to my list and you'll be notified when the first part comes out. (5.18)
PARTS:
I. Wired Autocomplete Interview
II. Mr. & Mrs. Wayne Take Lie Detector Test
III. Wayne Siblings | Hot Ones Versus
IV. Mr. & Mrs. Wayne Joins Brittany Broski's Royal Court
V. Bruce Wayne Tries Pregnancy Cravings | Snack Wars
VI. The Wayne Family Test How Well They Know Each Other
vampire!jason todd doesn’t notice at first how much he’s started trusting you, not in any conscious way anyway, it just builds up in the background like something he forgot to question. it only really hits him in quiet moments, when there’s no crisis, no mission, no reason to be distracted, and suddenly he realizes how easily he’s let you become part of his life without guarding it properly.
and that’s where the anxiety sits. because nothing about his history has taught him that this is safe. people don’t stay, they don’t see everything and choose to stay anyway. especially not when they see what he is, what he does, the parts of him that are still iffy around the edges even now. he keeps waiting for the shift, for the moment you look at him differently, for the moment something he’s done finally tips the balance and makes you step back. but it never happens. you’ve seen enough. maybe not everything, but enough, enough to understand that he isn’t gentle all the time, that he isn’t clean, that he isn’t the kind of safe people pretend exists in stories. and still, you don’t turn away. you don’t weaponize it and you don’t use it as leverage.
and that confuses him more than rejection ever could. because rejection fits and rejection makes sense. it matches what he expects from the world. but consistency, quiet acceptance, staying even when there are reasons not to, that doesn’t fit anything he knows how to prepare for. so he keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop, even while it doesn’t exist. even while you continue to treat him like he’s allowed to take up space without being punished for it.
and the worst part, for him, is that he knows he’s done things you probably shouldn’t be okay with. things he isn’t even fully okay with himself sometimes and still you don’t leave, still you don’t change the way you look at him. it doesn’t make the fear go away. but it starts to complicate it, because every time he expects distance, you give him proximity instead. every time he braces for withdrawal, you stay exactly where you are.
and he doesn’t know what to do with that kind of trust, not really, except keep holding onto it like it might disappear the second he stops paying attention.
Summary: you’re an artist and your canvas is your boyfriend jason.
Warnings: little fluff?, short smut, swearing
A/N: smut was whatever cause I can’t write it for the life of me. but like i said…fuck it we ball
“Are you sure this is how it’s done?”
Your boyfriend Jason asked when you slowly circled him. Your hand on your hip as you did, eyes narrowed, looking at him and wondering what to do with him.
“Yesss, now shut up!”
You had an art project due next week and you chose to do something with your photography skills. And you had the perfect canvas…your handsome, sexy boyfriend.
You didn’t even have to ask. All you did was bring it up in a conversation and he volunteered. That honestly made you a little upset because you wanted to ask him. To pout you lips and bat your eyelashes.
But it did make things easier.
Now he stood in the middle of your apartment, shirtless. He’d strip to his boxers if you’d let him. But no one needed to see that but you. Now that was your little secret.
“But—“
“Jason please shut up. I’m trying to think.” He pursed his lips immediately after, standing awkwardly with his hands balled at his sides.
After a little while of circling him, you stopped directly behind him. “How do you feel about me painting your body and snapping some pictures?”
“I’d get turned on.” He wasn’t even trying to be funny. The thought of your hands touching all over him with paint made him hard. He couldn’t help that he was so in love with you that even the smallest things got a reaction out of him.
You gave a blank look even though his back was to you. Then with an eye roll you reached down and placed your palm into a plate of pink paint.
You chuckled to yourself, thinking about this wall of a man covered in pink handprints.
He didn’t get the chance to ask what you were laughing about when the coldness of the paint against his skin cut his thoughts off.
Your hand made a print right on his abdomen. “How does it feel?”
“Cold.”
“Are you uncomfortable?”
“I told you, I’m turned on.”
You rounded him and stood in his face, not even trying to hide the smirk on your face. “Are you joking with me?”
He met your eyes then flicked down to his pants. You followed his gaze and your thighs clenched at the sight of the bulge in his pants. You couldn’t be more grateful for grey sweatpants.
His smirk matched yours when your eyes met again.
And that’s how you two ended up on your floor. Jason on his back with his hands on your hips, guiding you up and down on his dick.
Your hands braced on his paint covered chest. That was your foreplay. You littered his body in pink paint while he painted yours in blue.
And when you kissed, you made purple.
“That’s it baby, right there.” He moved his blue covered hand and reached up to grab your breasts, swiping his thumb over your pebbled nipple to spread the color.
You kept bouncing, his tip nudging at your cervix. You adjusting your hands as the paint started to dry against your hands. “God, you’re so fucking deep!”
He threw his head back with a clench of his teeth. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t expect this. You two almost always had sex when you were together. So this was no different. Though it turned him on faster than usual.
“Shit, I can’t!” You whined, getting sloppy.
“Yes you can, you take it baby.” He gripped your hips again, digging his fingers into the soft skin. He was forcing you to ride him like you meant it. He needed this more than you did if he was being honest.
Jason shocked you when he took over, he fucked into you at an astonishing speed you saw stars. it felt like he wanted you to come more than you did.
You started to grind onto his dick, your walls were sucking him in like the air you breathed. Your lip caught between your lips, feeling your orgasm get closer.
Your nails dug into his chest, deep enough to leave indents. “Oh my god! I’m close!”
“Fuck, me too.” He moaned.
After a few more thrusts you were coming hard on him, squirting all over his dick and chest. He came right after you, painting your walls white with his heavy load.
You collapsed on his chest, both of you breathing heavily.
“Next time, I’m touching you with a ten foot pole.” You muttered, cheek against his chest. Heart finally returning to its normal rhythm.
Hi!! I don’t know if you’re feeling like writing for Jason Todd, but I really like how you characterize him so if your requests are open for him, I had a suggestion:
How do you think Jason would deal with a reader that worried they were too much for him, in terms of being clingy, so they’re trying not to be as touchy/text or talk to him as much/ask him for things (like help around the house, ect)? I always see people write scenarios where Jason is hesitant in a relationship, and while I eat those up too, I feel like I don’t see as much about how he’d be on the other side of the situation, you know? Anyway, thank you for considering, and I love your writing! ❤️🦊
Jason notices the little things first, not because he's looking for them but because it's you.
And Jason has always paid attention to you.
The first thing he notices is that you stop texting him. Not completely. You still send good morning texts and answer his messages. But the random little things disappear.
No more pictures of weird-shaped clouds. No more reels sent to him throughout the day. No more "look at this dog I saw today."
The constant stream of you that he secretly loved getting throughout the day just...stops.
So of course Jason notices.
Then you stop asking him for things. Which was weird. Because asking him for things has always been your thing.
Can you help me hang this shelf?
Can you open this jar?
Can you reach that?
Can you kill that bug?
Can you come over because I had a bad day?
The requests had never bothered him. If anything, they made him feel useful
Now suddenly you're carrying heavy grocery bags by yourself and nearly dropping them when he catches you at your apartment.
"The hell are you doing?" You blink. "Carrying groceries?" He scoffed "Yeah I got that."
Before you can protest, he's taking three bags from your hands. "I would've helped sweetheart." You shrugged. "You were busy."
"You could've called."
You give him a strange smile. "It's okay."
Jason frowns, a pit forming in the bottom of his stomach, something was going on the smile doesn't reach your eyes at all.
A few weeks went by when he notices you don't curl into him anymore. That one bothers him the most.
You used to gravitate toward him without thinking. The moment you sat on the couch your feet would end up in his lap. Your head would find his shoulder. Your hand would find his.
Now you sit on the opposite side of the couch.
Close enough to touch. Far enough not to.
And jason hates it.
Tonight is the night he finally snaps. He's just trying to read and youu're pretending to watch TV.
The distance between you feels like a canyon. After ten minutes he tosses the book onto the coffee table and broke the silence. "What?" You look over. "What, what?"
"Why are you acting weird?"
Your face immediately goes blank. "I'm not."
"Bullshit."
You stare at him. He stares right back.
You hoped Jason would just leave it be. Unfortunately for you, Jason Todd is one of the most stubborn men alive.
Eventually you crack first. Your shoulders slump. "It's nothing."
"No."
"Jason—"
"No."
His voice isn't angry. Just firm. "Talk to me."
The shows characters chatter in the background. You keep your eyes fixed on your hands and when you finally speak your voice is barely above a whisper.
"I didn't want to bother you."
Jason blinks. "...What?"
You swallow. "I know I'm a lot sometimes."
His stomach drops.
Its the way you say it kike you've been carrying this thought around for a long time.
"I text a lot. I'm always touching you." A laugh escapes you, humorless. "I ask you for stupid things all the time."
Every sentence hurts more than the last.
"So I just thought maybe I needed to stop."
Jason stares at you like he's trying to understand what language you're speaking.
Because none of this makes sense.
"You thought..." His voice comes out rough. "You thought I was annoyed by you?"
You shrug. "I don't know."
"No." Jason sits forward. "No, don't do that."
Your eyes finally lift. "What?"
"You don't know?" He points at you. "You changed your entire behavior because you thought I was annoyed by you?"
Your cheeks burn.
When you don't answer, Jason drags a hand down his face.
Jesus Christ.
Weeks.
You've been doing this for weeks.
"You know what I do for a living, right?"
You blink. "What does that have to do with anything?"
"I fight crime. I get shot."
"Jason I dont-."
"I've been hit by a car." Despite yourself, you snort. He points dramatically. "There it is."
A tiny smile tugs at your lips jason softens immediately.
Because that's what he's been missing.
You. Not this careful version that's been trying to take up less space.
"Baby." The nickname comes out quiet, so gently that you had to look up at him.
And Jason's heart cracks right down the middle.
Because you look scared.
Not of him. Of the answer.
Like you've been waiting for confirmation that you are too much. "Come here."
You hesitate.
That pisses him off, not because of you, but the fact you've convinced yourself you need permission.
Jason reaches over and grabs your wristnot hard. Just enough to pull you across the couch.
A surprised noise leaves you as you're suddenly deposited directly in his lap. Your eyes widen. Jason immediately wraps both arms around your waist.
There. Better.
"Jason—"
"Shut up."
"But—"
"I like your texts."
You stop.
"I like hearing from you."
His chin settles on your shoulder. "I like when you ask me for stuff." A squeeze. "I like when you sit on me." A stronger squeeze. "I like when you cling"
Your laugh comes out watery.
Jason feels it against his chest.
"You don't mean that."
"I absolutely mean that."
You shake your head. "Nobody likes clingy people."
Jason actually pulls back enough to look at you. The offense on his face is immediate. "Excuse you."
"What?"
"I'm dating a clingy person."
You laugh again, A real one this time.
"That's not—"
"No, no. Don't move the goalposts."
He points at himself.
"I like you." Then he points at you. "You're clingy." Then he spreads his hands. "Conclusion."
You groan. "Oh my god."
He grins, "It's basic math."
"It's terrible math."
The grin fades when he notices tears gathering in your eyes. "Baby." His hands find your cheeks. "Hey."
You try to look away but he doesn't let you. "Talk to me."
Your voice wobbles. "I just didn't want to be too much."
There it is. The real fear. Not annoyance. Not frustration. Abandonment.
Jason knows that fear. Knows it intimately. He presses his forehead against yours. "Listen to me." You close your eyes.
"If I need space, I'll tell you."
It seems so simple because it is that simple. Because Jason isn't subtle. He isn't the kind of guy who's going to just secretly resents someone.
If something's wrong, you'll know.
"You don't get to decide what I can handle."
You open your eyes. "What?"
"You decided I was annoyed." His thumb brushes away a tear. "You decided I didn't wanna hear from you. You decided I didn't wanna help."
His voice softens.
"You made all those decisions for me."
Your lips part. Then close. Because he's right.
Jason sighs. "You know what would've happened if you'd asked me? I would've told you to get your ass over here and sit on my lap."
A laugh escapes you.
He nudges his nose against yours.
"Baby, I spent most of my life thinking I was too much." The confession settles heavily between you. "If the person I love is struggling, the last thing I want is for them to deal with it alone."
Your eyes immediately soften.
Jason presses a kiss to your forehead. Then your nose. Then your cheek.
"You wanna text me twenty times a day? Do it. You need help carrying groceries? Call me."
You smile.
"And if I wanna cuddle?"
Jason looks horrified.
"Then why are you even asking?"
Before you can react, he drags you closer. Practically folding you into his chest. You squeal. He just smiles and ignores it.
"See?" His arms tighten. "Problem solved."
You bury your face in his neck. For the first time in weeks, you stop worrying about taking up too much space. And for the first time in weeks, Jason finally feels like he can breathe again.
Everything was exactly how it was supposed to be. With you curled up against him.
Summary: The first time you sleep over at the manor, and the first time Bruce steps foot in your tiny one bed room apartment.
Asks/requests are open!! Masterlist
The first night you stayed at Wayne Manor felt strangely intimate in a way you hadn’t expected. Not because of the mansion itself. If anything, the manor should’ve felt impersonal. Too large. Too polished. The kind of place where you were afraid to touch things because they probably cost more than your rent. Instead, it felt… lived in.
Warm.
There were books left open on side tables. Half-finished mugs of tea abandoned in sitting rooms. A sweater tossed over the back of a chair that was very obviously Dick’s because no human being besides Dick owned that many neon hoodies. And Bruce—
Bruce somehow made the entire massive place feel smaller just by existing in it. You were standing in the kitchen nursing a cup of tea when he walked in wearing the robe. You physically had to bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from laughing.
Bruce paused immediately. “What?”
“Oh my god,” you breathed. His brow furrowed slightly. “That robe is pink.”
“It is not pink.”
“It’s satin.”
“It’s silk.”
“That somehow makes it worse.”
Bruce looked down at himself with a tiny frown like he was reconsidering the robe for the first time in his life. The robe was absolutely pink. Not bright pink. But definitely some rich wine-colored silk situation that looked unbelievably soft and expensive and absurdly domestic on a man built like Bruce Wayne.
Your laughter finally slipped out. Bruce sighed the long-suffering sigh of a man who’d apparently dealt with this before. “Damian bought it.”
You gasped dramatically. “Damian picked this out?”
“He said it looked distinguished.”
“That child thinks you’re a divorced millionaire in a Nancy Meyers movie.”
Bruce’s mouth twitched. And there it was. That tiny almost-smile he tried so hard to suppress sometimes. You pointed at him immediately. “Don’t you do that.”
“Do what?”
“That little smile thing where you pretend you’re not smiling.”
“I’m not.”
“You literally are right now.”
Bruce took another sip of tea to hide it. Coward. You wandered closer, unable to help yourself, fingers brushing lightly against the silk sleeve of his robe.
Your eyes widened instantly. “Wait, this is actually insane.”
Bruce looked down at you quietly. “What?”
“It’s so soft.”
“You sound surprised.”
“I thought rich people fabric was all for aesthetics. This feels illegal.”
A quiet laugh escaped him then. Actual laughter. Low and warm and rough with sleep. It startled you enough that you looked up immediately. Bruce rarely laughed fully. Not like that. Usually it was restrained amusement. A quiet exhale through his nose. Tiny smiles hidden behind coffee mugs. But this?
This was softer. Sleepier. Real. And maybe because it was late, maybe because the kitchen lights were dim, maybe because Bruce looked so comfortable standing there in his ridiculous robe with messy hair and reading glasses halfway down his nose, you suddenly felt unbearably fond of him.
Your hand stayed resting lightly on his sleeve. Bruce glanced down at it before looking back at you. Neither of you moved for a second. Then Bruce quietly asked, “You tired?”
“A little.”
“You’ve been trying not to yawn for twenty minutes.”
“I was being polite.”
“You fell asleep during the documentary earlier.”
“In my defense, it was about architecture.”
“It was about sustainable city planning.”
You stared at him flatly. “Bruce, that’s worse.”
Another tiny smile. God, you loved making him smile. Bruce set his mug down before reaching out gently, fingers catching your wrist. Not forceful. Just guiding. He pulled you closer until your hip bumped lightly against his. And then, because apparently this terrifying man was secretly affectionate beyond belief in private, he simply wrapped both arms around you and tucked you against his chest.
Your brain short-circuited immediately. “…Oh.”
Bruce hummed softly above your head. “What?”
“You’re clingy.”
“I am not clingy.”
“You literally just bear-trapped me in a kitchen.”
“You walked into range.”
You laughed against his chest, and Bruce’s arms tightened slightly in response like the sound itself relaxed something in him. That was another thing you were learning. Bruce touched constantly when he loved someone. Not publicly. Never publicly.
But in private? A hand at your waist while passing behind you. Fingers brushing your knee during conversations. Pulling you absentmindedly against his side while reading. Small things. Quiet things. Like he was always reassuring himself you were still there.
You tilted your head back slightly to look at him. “You’re really different at home.”
Bruce’s expression softened almost immediately. “Is that bad?”
“No,” you said quietly. “I think it’s my favorite version of you.”
Something vulnerable flickered across his face so quickly most people probably would’ve missed it. But you didn’t. Bruce leaned down slightly, pressing a slow kiss against your forehead. Not rushed. Not heated. Just tender. The kind of kiss that felt like being cared for. “You should sleep,” he murmured softly.
“Mmm. Don’t wanna.”
“You said you were tired.”
“I am.”
“Then come to bed.”
The words were simple. Casual, even. But warmth still flooded your chest embarrassingly fast. Bruce must’ve noticed because the corner of his mouth lifted slightly before he brushed his thumb along your cheek. “C’mon.”
He took your hand then. And despite the size of Wayne Manor, despite the endless halls and towering ceilings and all the wealth surrounding you, walking through the quiet manor half-asleep with Bruce’s hand wrapped around yours somehow felt more like home than anything else.
The first time Bruce came to your apartment, you nearly canceled three separate times. Not because you didn’t want him there. That was the problem. You wanted him there too much. Which meant suddenly you were painfully aware of everything. The old radiator that hissed like it was possessed. The tiny kitchen with exactly three feet of counter space. The fact that your couch cushions sank weirdly in the middle.
You spent an embarrassing amount of time cleaning despite the apartment already being clean. Fluffing pillows. Lighting candles. Hiding the one chair that had become The Laundry Chair. And still, by the time Bruce knocked on the door, your stomach was in knots. Because Bruce lived in Wayne Manor.
Wayne fucking Manor.
Meanwhile your apartment building had a flickering hallway light and a neighbor who blasted music every Thursday night. You opened the door still wearing one sock because you’d lost the other one halfway through panic-cleaning. Bruce immediately noticed. “…You’re missing a sock.”
You stared at him. “Hello to you too.”
His mouth twitched slightly. And just like that, some of the tension eased. Bruce stood there dressed down in dark jeans and a black henley, one hand holding takeout bags from your favorite little noodle place across town. Not chauffeured-driver Bruce Wayne. Not billionaire gala Bruce Wayne. Just Bruce.
Your Bruce.
“You brought food?”
“You forgot dinner yesterday.”
“You remember my meals now?”
“You forget them often enough for it to qualify as a pattern.”
“Wow. Judgmental.”
Bruce leaned down slightly as he stepped inside, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead as he passed. “You’re nervous,” he murmured quietly.
Your eye twitched. “No I’m not.”
“You reorganized your bookshelf alphabetically.”
You froze. “…How did you know it wasn’t already like that?”
Bruce slowly looked at the stack of books beside the couch. “…Because those are still piled by color.”
You stared at him in horror. Bruce kissed the side of your head to hide his amusement. “You missed one,” he informed you gently.
“I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.”
Unfortunately, he sounded very sure about that. Bruce moved deeper into the apartment while you shut the door behind him, and you couldn’t stop watching him. Not because he looked out of place. But because he didn’t. That was somehow worse. Bruce Wayne should’ve looked ridiculous standing in your tiny kitchen setting takeout containers on the counter. Instead, he looked… comfortable. Like he’d already decided this place mattered because it mattered to you.
His gaze wandered quietly around the apartment, not critical, not assessing financially, just observing. The string lights around the windows. The tiny framed movie posters. The books overflowing from shelves because you’d run out of room months ago. The blanket draped over the couch. He noticed everything. Of course he did. “You have more mugs than dishes,” Bruce observed after a moment.
“That’s because mugs are important.”
“Hm.”
“That was judgment in rich person.”
“That was observation.”
You narrowed your eyes. “Same thing.”
Bruce’s smile deepened slightly. God. That smile was unfair in normal lighting, but in your apartment with the warm lamps on and rain tapping softly against the windows? Lethal. You turned away before he noticed the effect he was having on you. Too late. Bruce’s hand slid lightly against your waist as you passed him. Effortless. Automatic. Like touching you had already become instinct for him.
“What?” you muttered suspiciously.
“You’re pacing.”
“I am not.”
“You’ve walked in a circle around the kitchen three times.”
“…This kitchen is like four feet wide.”
Bruce hummed thoughtfully. “Still counts.”
You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “I’m being perceived.”
“You invited me over.”
“I regret allowing you to have observational skills.”
Bruce laughed quietly then. Actually laughed. Low and warm and fond. And suddenly your tiny apartment felt warmer for it. Bruce leaned back against your counter afterward, watching you plate noodles while soft jazz played faintly from your speaker. There was something deeply surreal about the image.
Bruce Wayne.
In your apartment.
Looking absurdly handsome while holding chopsticks.
You pointed at him suddenly. “You’re too relaxed.”
One brow lifted slightly. “Meaning?”
“You’re acting like you do this all the time.”
“I spend time at your apartment often.”
“You have been here for six minutes.”
“And yet.” You narrowed your eyes harder. Bruce only looked amused. Then, because apparently the universe enjoyed humiliating you, the shitty apartment radiator suddenly let out a loud metallic BANG. You flinched. Bruce didn’t even blink. “…Did it just do that naturally?” he asked calmly.
“Yes.”
“And you live like this willingly?”
“It builds character.”
“I think it builds tetanus.”
You laughed so suddenly you almost dropped your bowl. Bruce looked disproportionately pleased with himself for causing it. A little later, after dinner, you found Bruce sprawled across your couch like he belonged there. Which was insane. Truly insane. Because this was Bruce Wayne.
Billionaire CEO.
And he was currently wearing one of your fuzzy gray blankets over his lap with a green face mask spread across his face. You stood frozen in the hallway staring at him. Bruce glanced up from his phone. “…What?”
“You look ridiculous.”
“You put this on me.”
“I didn’t think you’d actually wear it!”
“You said it helps with dry skin.”
“You’re Bruce Wayne.”
“And?”
“And you look like a sleepy TikTok boyfriend.” Bruce looked entirely unashamed. Worse, he looked comfortable. Feet propped on your coffee table. One arm stretched along the back of the couch. The face mask somehow failing to make him look any less intimidating. You collapsed beside him laughing into your hands. “This is the weirdest moment of my life.”
Bruce looked over at you quietly then. Really looked at you. His expression softened in that private way he reserved only for the people he loved most. “I like it here,” he said softly.
Your laughter faded a little. “You do?”
Bruce nodded once. “It’s yours.”
The simplicity of it hit embarrassingly hard. Because he meant it. The apartment wasn’t impressive. It wasn’t glamorous. But Bruce looked around at your tiny living room like it was something precious because it belonged to you.
You shifted closer without thinking. Bruce immediately opened one arm for you on instinct alone. You curled against his side while rain tapped softly outside and the face mask on his stupidly handsome face cracked slightly when he smiled down at you. “You know,” you murmured, “if Gotham could see you right now, your reputation would be destroyed.”
Bruce kissed the top of your head lazily. “They’d survive.
