“”

batfamfic

[jay-birddie]

[jay-birddie]

Hey I just found out your blog and I absolutely love it!

thank you so so so much! i’m so glad people are still finding my blog even though it’s kinda dead.

[jay-birddie]

the boy with no eyes. // jason todd x reader - FICLET

request?⟜ nope

pairing⟜ j. todd x reader

genre⟜ the two ends of the spectrum, fluff and a dash of angst. though, i really wouldn’t consider it angst. a ficlet as well

a/n⟜ HEY THERE THIS IS IMPORTANT! im a small author with a small blog, and my upload schedule is as inconsistent as my sleeping cycle! so, itd be one total cheese ball of a favor if you could/would tippity tappity on that little notification bell. that way you won’t be wondering if i’m dead all because i haven’t uploaded in 28 years! merci beaucoup mi amigos! ps, sophomore year really likes to kick my derrière.

⟜ while away at vacation home, fifteen year-old jason struggles to make a decision that may alter the rest of his upbringing. after asking for your sea shell advice that promises discovery, you manage to console the ill at ease seen in your muse’s Sulfur eyes.

Your paintbrush dipped into the cloudy, off-white-colored water and pressed against the rim of the old pickling jar Alfred let you have. As you lifted the brush from the jar, a single drop of water landed on the petal of a daisy and looked like the water absorbed the color of the petal.

Your brush stroked against your palette, picking up the gloopy, lavender paint. In large, thick dots, you laid the Serendipitous hue next to the lively color of straw to form the batches of peonies in front of you.

Jason sat in the ivory-twined hammock, caught in his own focus, stuck in his own world. Rays of sunlight hit his eyes, the glittering of the Serenity inside him presenting itself to the domino mask his pupils set themselves on. You observed his position, quickly wiping the paint off your brush and dabbing new paint together repeatedly to capture the alluring hue of his irises. Successful, you painted the Peaceful undertones of the peony stems and leaves. In the corner of your eyes you saw his head turn and study you as you did him. You pretended not to notice, pretended to be too engrossed in your passion to see him.

“What should I do?”

You exhaled, turning to him as you lifted your brush from the canvas. You stared at his mask, contemplating your words.

“Close your eyes.”

He did, sighing before doing so, and waited for your next instruction.

“Listen to your head.”

A grey breeze drew across your cheek, passing to caress over Jason’s eyelids as his lashes fluttered. His eyebrows arched in anger and his lips pursed, then relaxed as the wind did.

“Now, listen to your heart.”

The beginning of his brows curved up with sympathy and sadness, and his jaw relaxed. You could almost feel his emotion prickle your skin like raindrops, and your expression matched his.

“And finally, listen to your gut.”

But you could tell he didn’t need to, or want to. The palpitations of his life had taken over, and his heart had won.

“Open your eyes now.”

After a gravitational second; after his features returned to rest, he opened his eyes. The color of them had changed as the light of day dimmed with the presence of clouds. He looked down at the mask and nodded curtly—afirmingly, then looked up at you.

“Thank you.” You gave your appreciation for his expressed gradutude in a delicate smile that almost moved the earth.

He didn’t say a word as he hopped from the hammock, leaving it to slightly sway. He came over to sight down your work, as you had always let him do.

“You didn’t get the color of my eyes quite right,” he commented, barely grazing the textured canvas as he pointed. You shrugged in his favor, satisfying him. He mumbled something about asking for sandwiches for lunch, knowing how much you loved the concept of anything packed between two slices of bread, as he dragged his feet through the Violet meadow-grasses.

Jason’s comment repeated in your head: You didn’t get the color of my red quite right.

But you did—

And maybe at the time he would have been safer if he knew; Maybe things would have turned out differently.

[di4na-prince-deactivated2020122]

sol .

— dick grayson x reader

MASTERLIST | FLUFF

this fic is apart of my CELESTIALS series, where i will be associating the batboys w/ heavenly bodies <3

[ 11/22/18 ]

—

A heart was set ablaze, fueled by the charismatic words that rolled off of Richard Grayson’s tongue like a warlock’s spell. The burning hearth residing within Y/N’s core from the desired love Dick was feeding her fire was spreading from her ateries to the bones, her veins now rivers of lava.

It was enchanting to her—the way his fingers traced her hips; how his laughter was like church bells; feeling his heat against her bare body after a long night of sexual activities. Y/N had fallen deeply in love with this man & she couldn’t help but turn to ash in his flare.

As a radiant light snuck by the sheet of curtain that was covering the transparent windows, Y/N found herself awakening at the touch of its rays on her skin. The blue cover had a lump underneath it, a mess of raven black hair sticking out from the navy blue blanket. Y/N knew exactly who it was, and it made her giggle at how childish her boyfriend could be in the mornings. The same man who fought crooks under the arcane moon, hiding from mornings & the responsibilities that follow.

“Babe,” she whispered gently, making sure that she wouldn’t scare him by her sudden voice, “it’s time to get up. You’re still a cop, yah know.”

A groan & incoherent mumbling responded. Dick popped his head up from underneath the covers & gave Y/N a pout. The uncanny resemblance to a toddler was there.

“Do I have to?”

Y/N nodded & sat up to stretch her arms, unbothered by the fact that there was nothing covering her now. The sound of joints cracking mixed with the cool atmosphere of an early fall morning caused her to sigh in content.

Dick crawled over to her side of the bed & wrapped his muscular arms around her, pressing his chest against her back. The vigilante buried his face in the crook of her neck, taking in her enchanting scent as the pair stayed like that for a moment. Y/N brought her hand up to run it through Dick’s hair, leaning in closer to him so she’d feel his warm embrace more intimately.

Y/N’s heart was not racing, like the vigorness of making a spark from wood & a rock, as it was when they first became a couple. Now, she found solace in the mornings, even if the sun wasn’t up yet, or if Dick had to leave for work soon. His crystalline blue eyes, though the color was associated with soothing waters & bitter ice, Y/N saw the reflection of sunlight in them; the way his skin was kissed on summer days, highlighting his beautiful irises; how he’d clip his hair up when it was hot & she’d be able to see his royal blue eyes without hair falling down on his face.

“Before I go, do you wanna take a walk?” Dick inquired, his tone soft, “It’ll just be us, walking around the block until the sun is all the way up.”

[jay-birddie]

this is the first and probably the only fic written by another reblogged on this blog.

[jay-birddie]

there has never been a show so great, that you could make moods and memes out of every scene.

[jay-birddie]

heaven on earth// dick grayson x reader

request: none! I just really had the inspiration. though, i should get on to writing the actual requests i still have in my inbox.

pairing: dick grayson x reader

au?: takes places in the 1940′s. for some reason i got that kind of vibe when writing this. 

genre: the good ol’ stuff

a/n: wow author you’re finally puttng out fanfic again after six months.

Also, I used to keep a notebook with daily paragraphs of writing. The first 3 paragraphs are from that notebook. i feel as if i now lack the creative mind I once had in my writing, but i know that in order to become a better writer, i actually have to pick up a writing utensil and let my feelings flow.

A lady, standing there, an angelic glow radiating off her body. 

A man, standing just a few feet away, being pulled towards the light. 

Beams of light reflected off of the crystalline glasses held delicately in her pristined hand. Those hands, trained to hold a grace in their movement, kept the glass so still that even the golden wine within it would remain unmoving as her her head tipped back in open-mouthed laughter.

White satin gloves covered her elegant hands to represent her purity and youth to the rest of the attenders and potential bachelors. The oval pearl earrings clipped onto the lobe of her ear dangled back and forth in time with the movement of her head like a metronome, glittering with the pearlessence of gemstone along with opalescence of the diamonds surrounding it. She had a natural forid tint to her cheeks, and so the need to apply rouge was unnecessary.

Although at her fair age, Dick could notice the crinkles on the outer corners of her eyes that would define themselves later as she aged and mature. It was her constant smile that created his prediction, though it wasn’t a feature that he disliked but appreciated. A faux grin doesn’t cause the outer corners of one’s eyes to crease.  

Her features were so genuine, and it made Dicks heart flutter against his sternum and his cheeks match the color of hers.

He took continuous sips of his champagne only to avoid any gawking he might display, and looked around aimlessly as if he were searching the crowd for the perfect partner. But his eyes had already landed on her, through her eyes did not do the same.

The part of him that wasn’t so entranced wondered which family or organization she belonged to, as he had never seen her there before. She could just be a villain incognito, or a spy for the government, but Dick had to admit that he would spill every secret if she asked.

Her dress was quite magnificent; It was plain, yet so interesting. It was all one piece and the color of pink peonies. The fabric, from bodice to skirt was shiny, as if a shoe shiner polished it. The skirt draped elegantly down past her ankles, covering her feet as she stood there. A lengthy, thin, burgundy ribbon was wrapped once around and tied into a long, drooping bow.

The bodice was the most intriguing part of the entire ensemble: it was fitted at the waist up to the breast, where another thin ribbon of burgundy ran just below her shoulder. On the other side of the ribbon, the fabric scalloped at an upward angle all around her, making it look like her supple body was emerging from a budding flower.       

He tipped the glass back only to find that his previous sip was his last, and his glass and stalling session time had run out.

He set his glass down on the silver platter of a butler swiftly passing by, and took a daring step towards her. But then, he took a step back as soon he saw her eyes on him. They took his breath away, her delicate eyes. The soft glow of the lighting made her features look gentle, and created a twinkle in her orbs.

She smiled at him, and he thought he might faint right then are there. He returned the smile, and before his mind could realize, he continued to walk in her direction. She began to walk as well with a focus that Dick was glad remained on him, and soon their bodies met.

Dick felt his soul being pulled in, and if hers was magnet that attracted him. Her natural, uncovered beauty made her more alluring up close.

“It’s rare that one is invited to a Wayne gala, and I’ve only heard rumors of actually being greeted by the host or his family. It must be my luck that both happen to me, of all people,” she said sweetly. Her finger tapped silently against her glass and swirled the remaining drops of campagne.

“Guess you’ll be able to tell the tale,” Dick responded, shifting his arms to fold behind his back to make him seem more open and confident. He giggled softly, her lips stitched together, nothing compared to what he had seen earlier. “Which organization are you a part of? I don’t believe I’ve seen you here before,” Dick quickly added to avoid any and all awkwardness that could occur.

“I’m not affiliated with any organization. Which reminds me,” she lurched with excitement in recalling a thought, “that what Mr. Wayne’s doing with some of his earnings is the most wholesome act I’ve seen since the late Ms. Ast, bless her sol, put in her will that her manor was to be the new Gotham City Orphanage,” she said.

He studied her for another moment, waiting for her to reveal the reason she was  here. She took in the last sip of her refreshment, filling the gap in the conversation. Dick looked down at his feet as she did so, somehow amused. His head remained downturned as his eyes quickly glanced to the rim of her glass There was no lipstick mark, and Dick realized that her lips were always just that naturally spiked with blood.

“I am a humble journalist,” she said unexpectedly, her voice leaking with pride that the ‘humble’ could not conceal. Dick’s head popped up from the sound of her voice, and his left eyebrow lifted with interest. He remembered talk of women entering the literacy field, but frankly, he had never actually met one. “I write for the Gotham City Gazette.”   

“You must be one hell of a writer,” He commented, prolonging her beaming smile. She thanked him, reaching to make sure not a hair had fallen out of its curled and rolled state. She looked around for a moment, prompting him to do the same.  

“I’m going to search for that butler with the champagne. Would you like another glass?” She asked. Dick had reached his limit of two. Unfortunate, yes, but one particular night taught him how well he could hold his alcohol: barely.

“No, thank you,” He said. She began to turn as he continued, “Although, a dance would do nicely.” The words slipped from Dick’s mouth, and froze her body. He could see her lips creasing as he stood there, waiting for a response with an arched eyebrow and inquiring eyes, his lips parted slightly.  

“No one’s ever asked me to dance.” She blushed, making it look like she rubbed raspberries all over her cheeks. She reversed the half turn, facing towards Dick again and acknowledged her embarrassment by bringing her hands to cup her cheeks to cool them. Dick chuckled at the reaction but was puzzled by what she said.

“Who was that fellow just before me talking to you? He seemed very interested,” he asked.

“Just a very good friend of mine. I’ve know him for my entire life and each time I see him he’s telling me a new story. Though sometimes exaggerated, he is quite humorous.” She was so animated in her speech compared to stuffy people Dick had met at previous galas who had their arms glued behind their back and their bodies stiff as boards. “But yes, I would love to dance, though you’ll have to forgive my feet before I step on one of yours.”

Dick laughed, untying his arms and holding a hand out to finally take hers. he assumed that by now, she had forgotten about her drink. Naked met gloved as she placed her hand in his. The gloves felt new, soft like the petals of budding roses in the spring. Their steps were quick and excited as they rushed along with other couples to the dance floor. Music entered the atmosphere. It was as bright and jumpy as his heart, the allegro tempo of the violins in harmony with the piano.

They set their bodies in place and waited for the cue: Their hands clasped, and Dick thought they fit and molded together perfectly; He placed his arm around her backside, settling his hand in the indent of her side, and he tried to keep the most chaste thoughts running through him; She placed her other hand on his shoulder, and Dick felt a delicate heat flow down to his stomach and birth butterflies.

The music replaced the hushed and nonexistent voices of the dancers as feet began to move. She immediately looked down to hers, though kept in mind the eye contact that needed to be exchanged with a dance partner. Dick could see the anxiety deep within her pupils. He felt sympathetic towards the lady, remembering the first time her attended a Wayne Gala. He was so nervous, the point of his shoe didn’t even step into the ballroom.

“Hey,” he whispered. He would have called her by her name if he had known it. Her head whipped up at the call to attention. “Don’t think about your feet. The music will make them move on their own.”

She nodded slowly, still gazing at him. Like Dick said, her feet maintained in perfect sync with the music. She got excited, pulling a sudden breath of air into her lungs, and her eyes brightening in triumph.

She gained more confidence as the music reached it climax, and Dick lost count of how many successful spins and box-steps they did. But he did keep track of the many times she looked as though love enwrapped her like the film on a piece of candy, so tightly twisted, yet so easy to come undone. He wanted to the be the one to unwrap her on the nights when everything seemed right in the world. He wanted to taste the sweetness of her skin, and get drunk on her heavenly perfume.

Not once did they break eye contact, and Dick knew that anyone who saw their affection would be jealous at the sight, and wish upon a star that they could experience the same feeling.

As the music came to a fade, so did their movements, until her dress sightly grazed passed her ankles at a slowing turn. She removed one hand slowly from shoulder, but Dick could still feel the warmth from her palm and fingers. His arm unlatched from her back, but Dick remembered that he might have more intimate dances with her in the future. Their hands unclasped, but their fingers lingered in touch and their bodies remained close, and their souls molded together perfectly.  

[jay-birddie]

heaven on earth// dick grayson x reader

request: none! I just really had the inspiration. though, i should get on to writing the actual requests i still have in my inbox.

pairing: dick grayson x reader

au?: takes places in the 1940′s. for some reason i got that kind of vibe when writing this. 

genre: the good ol’ stuff

a/n: wow author you’re finally puttng out fanfic again after six months.

Also, I used to keep a notebook with daily paragraphs of writing. The first 3 paragraphs are from that notebook. i feel as if i now lack the creative mind I once had in my writing, but i know that in order to become a better writer, i actually have to pick up a writing utensil and let my feelings flow.

A lady, standing there, an angelic glow radiating off her body. 

A man, standing just a few feet away, being pulled towards the light. 

Beams of light reflected off of the crystalline glasses held delicately in her pristined hand. Those hands, trained to hold a grace in their movement, kept the glass so still that even the golden wine within it would remain unmoving as her her head tipped back in open-mouthed laughter.

White satin gloves covered her elegant hands to represent her purity and youth to the rest of the attenders and potential bachelors. The oval pearl earrings clipped onto the lobe of her ear dangled back and forth in time with the movement of her head like a metronome, glittering with the pearlessence of gemstone along with opalescence of the diamonds surrounding it. She had a natural forid tint to her cheeks, and so the need to apply rouge was unnecessary.

Although at her fair age, Dick could notice the crinkles on the outer corners of her eyes that would define themselves later as she aged and mature. It was her constant smile that created his prediction, though it wasn’t a feature that he disliked but appreciated. A faux grin doesn’t cause the outer corners of one’s eyes to crease.  

Her features were so genuine, and it made Dicks heart flutter against his sternum and his cheeks match the color of hers.

He took continuous sips of his champagne only to avoid any gawking he might display, and looked around aimlessly as if he were searching the crowd for the perfect partner. But his eyes had already landed on her, through her eyes did not do the same.

The part of him that wasn’t so entranced wondered which family or organization she belonged to, as he had never seen her there before. She could just be a villain incognito, or a spy for the government, but Dick had to admit that he would spill every secret if she asked.

Her dress was quite magnificent; It was plain, yet so interesting. It was all one piece and the color of pink peonies. The fabric, from bodice to skirt was shiny, as if a shoe shiner polished it. The skirt draped elegantly down past her ankles, covering her feet as she stood there. A lengthy, thin, burgundy ribbon was wrapped once around and tied into a long, drooping bow.

The bodice was the most intriguing part of the entire ensemble: it was fitted at the waist up to the breast, where another thin ribbon of burgundy ran just below her shoulder. On the other side of the ribbon, the fabric scalloped at an upward angle all around her, making it look like her supple body was emerging from a budding flower.       

He tipped the glass back only to find that his previous sip was his last, and his glass and stalling session time had run out.

He set his glass down on the silver platter of a butler swiftly passing by, and took a daring step towards her. But then, he took a step back as soon he saw her eyes on him. They took his breath away, her delicate eyes. The soft glow of the lighting made her features look gentle, and created a twinkle in her orbs.

She smiled at him, and he thought he might faint right then are there. He returned the smile, and before his mind could realize, he continued to walk in her direction. She began to walk as well with a focus that Dick was glad remained on him, and soon their bodies met.

Dick felt his soul being pulled in, and if hers was magnet that attracted him. Her natural, uncovered beauty made her more alluring up close.

“It’s rare that one is invited to a Wayne gala, and I’ve only heard rumors of actually being greeted by the host or his family. It must be my luck that both happen to me, of all people,” she said sweetly. Her finger tapped silently against her glass and swirled the remaining drops of campagne.

“Guess you’ll be able to tell the tale,” Dick responded, shifting his arms to fold behind his back to make him seem more open and confident. He giggled softly, her lips stitched together, nothing compared to what he had seen earlier. “Which organization are you a part of? I don’t believe I’ve seen you here before,” Dick quickly added to avoid any and all awkwardness that could occur.

“I’m not affiliated with any organization. Which reminds me,” she lurched with excitement in recalling a thought, “that what Mr. Wayne’s doing with some of his earnings is the most wholesome act I’ve seen since the late Ms. Ast, bless her sol, put in her will that her manor was to be the new Gotham City Orphanage,” she said.

He studied her for another moment, waiting for her to reveal the reason she was  here. She took in the last sip of her refreshment, filling the gap in the conversation. Dick looked down at his feet as she did so, somehow amused. His head remained downturned as his eyes quickly glanced to the rim of her glass There was no lipstick mark, and Dick realized that her lips were always just that naturally spiked with blood.

“I am a humble journalist,” she said unexpectedly, her voice leaking with pride that the ‘humble’ could not conceal. Dick’s head popped up from the sound of her voice, and his left eyebrow lifted with interest. He remembered talk of women entering the literacy field, but frankly, he had never actually met one. “I write for the Gotham City Gazette.”   

“You must be one hell of a writer,” He commented, prolonging her beaming smile. She thanked him, reaching to make sure not a hair had fallen out of its curled and rolled state. She looked around for a moment, prompting him to do the same.  

“I’m going to search for that butler with the champagne. Would you like another glass?” She asked. Dick had reached his limit of two. Unfortunate, yes, but one particular night taught him how well he could hold his alcohol: barely.

“No, thank you,” He said. She began to turn as he continued, “Although, a dance would do nicely.” The words slipped from Dick’s mouth, and froze her body. He could see her lips creasing as he stood there, waiting for a response with an arched eyebrow and inquiring eyes, his lips parted slightly.  

“No one’s ever asked me to dance.” She blushed, making it look like she rubbed raspberries all over her cheeks. She reversed the half turn, facing towards Dick again and acknowledged her embarrassment by bringing her hands to cup her cheeks to cool them. Dick chuckled at the reaction but was puzzled by what she said.

“Who was that fellow just before me talking to you? He seemed very interested,” he asked.

“Just a very good friend of mine. I’ve know him for my entire life and each time I see him he’s telling me a new story. Though sometimes exaggerated, he is quite humorous.” She was so animated in her speech compared to stuffy people Dick had met at previous galas who had their arms glued behind their back and their bodies stiff as boards. “But yes, I would love to dance, though you’ll have to forgive my feet before I step on one of yours.”

Dick laughed, untying his arms and holding a hand out to finally take hers. he assumed that by now, she had forgotten about her drink. Naked met gloved as she placed her hand in his. The gloves felt new, soft like the petals of budding roses in the spring. Their steps were quick and excited as they rushed along with other couples to the dance floor. Music entered the atmosphere. It was as bright and jumpy as his heart, the allegro tempo of the violins in harmony with the piano.

They set their bodies in place and waited for the cue: Their hands clasped, and Dick thought they fit and molded together perfectly; He placed his arm around her backside, settling his hand in the indent of her side, and he tried to keep the most chaste thoughts running through him; She placed her other hand on his shoulder, and Dick felt a delicate heat flow down to his stomach and birth butterflies.

The music replaced the hushed and nonexistent voices of the dancers as feet began to move. She immediately looked down to hers, though kept in mind the eye contact that needed to be exchanged with a dance partner. Dick could see the anxiety deep within her pupils. He felt sympathetic towards the lady, remembering the first time her attended a Wayne Gala. He was so nervous, the point of his shoe didn’t even step into the ballroom.

“Hey,” he whispered. He would have called her by her name if he had known it. Her head whipped up at the call to attention. “Don’t think about your feet. The music will make them move on their own.”

She nodded slowly, still gazing at him. Like Dick said, her feet maintained in perfect sync with the music. She got excited, pulling a sudden breath of air into her lungs, and her eyes brightening in triumph.

She gained more confidence as the music reached it climax, and Dick lost count of how many successful spins and box-steps they did. But he did keep track of the many times she looked as though love enwrapped her like the film on a piece of candy, so tightly twisted, yet so easy to come undone. He wanted to the be the one to unwrap her on the nights when everything seemed right in the world. He wanted to taste the sweetness of her skin, and get drunk on her heavenly perfume.

Not once did they break eye contact, and Dick knew that anyone who saw their affection would be jealous at the sight, and wish upon a star that they could experience the same feeling.

As the music came to a fade, so did their movements, until her dress sightly grazed passed her ankles at a slowing turn. She removed one hand slowly from shoulder, but Dick could still feel the warmth from her palm and fingers. His arm unlatched from her back, but Dick remembered that he might have more intimate dances with her in the future. Their hands unclasped, but their fingers lingered in touch and their bodies remained close, and their souls molded together perfectly.  

[jay-birddie]

- M A S T E R L I S T -

requests // open

last updated // august fourth, twenty eighteen

J. T O D D

× why are you pampering me so much? 

D. G R A Y S O N

× heaven on earth 

T. D R A K E

x

D. W A Y N E

x

J. T O D D

× mistakes that we made 1.0  2.0 

D. G R A Y S O N

×

T. D R A K E

×

D. W A Y N E

×

J. T O D D

×

D. G R A Y S O N

×

T. D R A K E

×

D. W A Y N E

×

[jay-birddie]

Mistakes that we made... I love it omg !!!

thank you!! i wasn’t so confident about the quality of the second part but i’m glad you enjoyed it

[jay-birddie]

Will mistakes that we made have a pt 3? I don't want it to end sad :(

unfortunately it was the end :(

[jay-birddie]

mistakes that we made // 2.0

[photo not mine]

pairing: jason todd x fem!reader

genre: angst

warnings: oof

you never knew that jason loved you, which brought troubles when you finally found out after an influenced night.

It dawned upon, that morning, that your life was turning into a horror movie. With the content of everything, in the beginning, the stupid decisions made during, and the climax and consequences after in the form of a pregnancy test in your hand, you felt as if you were the fictional victim of a high grossing film. And like a character in a horror movie scene, you were petrified. All that was needed was some audible, suspenseful music to perfect it.

Nothing would ever be the same for you. College and career dreams were thrown out the window as your eyes peered down at the stick horribly accented with two blue lines. You knew your own mind could and would not handle caring for a child and college work, not to mention finding a job to provide for you and your child. The thoughts alone overwhelmed you. 

You blinked, not noticing the dryness and stinging of your eyes before from staring too long. Your eyes watered up, making its own hydration from being deprived of any moisture for too long. 

Setting down the plastic stick on the counter, you turned the faucet. It squeaked as cold water began to run. You cupped your hands and splashed your face. Your skin achieved goosebumps when the frigid water hit your warm and flushed face. Besides the disappearance of a menstrual cycle, nothing else warned you about the possibility of carrying a child. 

The first feeling you felt was shock. Disappointment was the next. You cursed yourself for being so reckless despite the reputation of being so mature and responsible. News of this throughout your school would spread like a wildfire, and with the detail that it was Jason’s to embellish it would only burn you alive. 

Jason. The avoidance of his presence over the last two months made the name sound so different in your head, almost unfamiliar, yet, the memory that it was assigned to keep it ingrained in your brain. How would you tell him? Would you tell him? It sounded easier to just keep the information to yourself and let him live his life without any obstacles.

You turned the water off, hanging your face above the bowl of the sink and letting water drip from your nose and lips. 

“Shit.”

But you knew Jason. The secrecy itself would kill him if he found out another way other than a direct announcement from you. Honesty, when requested, was the sole factor that had kept your friendship alive for so long, something you had forgotten the morning when you woke up in the nude beside him. The secrecy would kill you as well if you didn’t inform Jason. 

An idea popped into your head as you dried your face with the hanging towel behind your grandmother’s bathroom door. It was beyond formal, but it would get the job done. 

But later, you decided. 

It would be better to do it later. 

“Master Jason?” 

His eyesight purposefully tuned in and out of focus as he shoveled each spoonful of tomato soup into his mouth. It had been the longest two months he’s endured in his life, the last time you talked to him. In fact, he wasn’t even sure if you had spared him a single glance in the span of that time. 

His routine at school didn’t change; he still took the same path between classes, which involved passing your locker three times. He hoped each time he passed you, that you would look up and at least acknowledge him. Today hadn’t been any different. 

But each time, the self-destructive demon inside fed on the avoidance and diminished the scarce hope inside him. It consumed him night by night, day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute and second by second. It was a fight he couldn’t win, and he hated that. He hated himself more, however, for confessing to you. Out of all the stupid decisions he made, that one topped it all off.

“Master Jason?” 

His eyes snapped out of his swirling thoughts and flickered up to Alfred. He was holding the historic home phone against his shoulder, smothering the microphone end. 

“Yeah?” Jason replied. He never showed the true hurt he felt every day through his voice or expressions, though his actions sometimes defied him. 

“It’s for you,” Alfred said, referring to the call on the other line. Sluggishly, he hopped from the genuine leather bar stool and made his way to Alfred. Jason fished and intertwined his finger through the coiled wire as he put the phone to his ear. 

“Hello?” 

“Jason, it’s me,” you said. Jason’s eyes shot wide, completely caught off guard by the sound of your voice. He immediately noticed the solemn tone, knowing you weren’t calling to have an easygoing conversation. 

“(Y/n), what’s—“ He had so many things to ask and talk to you about. Perhaps it’s the revival of our close friendship, he thought despite the seriousness of your voice. But, he was mistaken. 

“I’m pregnant.” 

Not even two words were spoken, and you already had him speechless. His blood ran cold, and the words in his head turned to jumbles. It felt like a snake had been coiling around his body for this entire time, and now finally striking his heart with its fangs and punishing him for his misdeeds.

His hands became sweaty, and the phone and its connected wire slipped from his fingers as he stared out of focus unintentionally. The phone fell, swinging from the cord. His throat became dry, resulting in the bobbing of his Adam’s apple. If the belittling voices weren’t loud enough, they now chanted in unison. If the regret hadn’t been eating him away bite by bite, it had definitely eaten him whole. 

“Master Jason, are you alright?” 

Alfred’s voice wasn’t muffled; Jason heard his butler perfectly fine, but the response would be harder to conjure up and easier if avoided altogether. The phone hit his leg, breaking him out of his own stupor.

“I’m going out on an early patrol. I’ll be back soon. Don’t tell Bruce.” Jason’s still stature became unfrozen, his feet carrying him in the direction of his bedroom. 

“Understood, Master Jason,” Alfred said. Having heard your voice before Jason, he knew Jason wasn’t really going to cause any trouble. 

His usual leather jacket and boots were the only necessary items needed for his ‘patrol’ and in a matter of mere minutes, Jason was already climbing out of his window to see you.

Zooming and swerving through cars, Jason felt anxiety crumble over him. What if she doesn’t want to see me, he thought. He hadn’t heard any more of your words after the first two, so how could he know what you said afterward? It made him feel reckless at the thought of all the possible thing you could do in this situation. It made him grip the handles tighter and accelerate in speed.

His mind was so overwhelmed with thoughts that he felt his own heart race faster than his motorcycle. Cars honked at his obnoxious speed, but at this, it only took around five minutes to reach your grandmother’s apartment in the city. 

From the entire rush his body endured along with the stress weighing his shoulders down, he wasn’t surprised to notice a mild tremor rack through his arms and hands and cause the removal of his helmet to be a slightly more difficult task. 

But he could care less about the surplus amount of adrenaline coursing through his bloodstream, and he didn’t have the patience to wait to be buzzed in. The fire escape was his best route, and up he ran, the buckles and shoelaces slapping against his boots as he hastily trodded up each step.

Your grandmother’s apartment was on the fourth floor, turning into a favor for your grandmother and her maturing age.

Even though he hadn’t visited in over a month, he could still point out your bedroom window in a heartbeat. Fourth window from the ground, sixth one to the left on the right side of the complex, characterized by a single, potted poppy in the shade of a vivid scarlet ribbon, given to you as an offering of comfort when your grandmother had been terribly ill.  

But at a reach away from your window he noticed that the red plant was vivid no more. The tension pent up around his upper body went limp momentarily as the last bit of hope he held on to so desperately washed away and was brought back with the tide further and further out to sea. His hand drew back slightly, and his eyebrows ripped from the tight, unknown seam sewed between them as he observed the withering flower. You had simply forgotten to water it.

Though, Jason presumed you purposely let it die. 

Despite the clenching of his heart, he hoisted himself to your windowsill and pushed the unlocked window up with his hand.He was surprised, to be honest. He thought, with all the damage to you and him, that you would have locked the latch, which was initially unlocked due to him. 

Contrary to the size of your room, your window was conveniently large wide enough to accommodate his broad size. He slipped through, tumbling into the hardwood flooring. The light illuminating the room was still on, the low wattage of the bulb creating a dim luminosity to the half-hazard living space. 

An eerie silence came over the apartment, accented by an over-used laughing track playing in the background. He thought he had come in undetected until he heard the shuffling footsteps of your grandmother. 

“It’s been quite a while since I’ve heard you tumble through (Y/n)’s window at night. How are you, Mister Todd?” Jason had just gotten to his feet when your grandmother appeared under the threshold. The blossom-lipped smile he was first introduced to was still her most prominent feature. He smiled back, wiping the sweat away from his temples. 

“Hello. Do you know where she is?” Jason asked, successfully hiding his desperation. 

“She’s painting up on the roof, dear. She’s been exploring her creative side lately,” she said. Jason nodded in gratitude, walking through the small apartment and out the door, where he picked up his pace. His footsteps echoed throughout the long apartment hallway, he breath dragging in exasperation. 

Once he reached the roof-access door, he swung it open, trotting up a flight of stairs once again. He swung the second door at the top, exposing him to you and the surroundings. 

There, hypnotized by the sounds and lights of your surroundings, was you, standing like a living statue. Your feet were so close to the edge, but he knew your equilibrium wouldn’t betray you. He advanced towards you carefully, almost skeptically, his breath finally maintaining a steady rate. His shuffling feet came to a halt, afraid to step any closer.

“I’m sorry,” he said, announcing his presence in the process, but he figured you already knew he was behind you.

At first, you didn’t show any reaction any kind of acknowledgment, seeming to be sucked in your own sort of trance. Nothing seemed more mesmerizing than the sound of tires whizzing past intersections and street lamps, or the grazing wind that delicately flowed through each fine strand of hair or the suspenseful silence between two voices. Two hearts, so torn that no sewing pattern could give specific instructions on how to mend it. Two souls so unplugged that no wire could reconnect them. And one relationship so broken it sounded like the crunch of sharded glass.

“Me too,” you mumbled to yourself, though still audible to Jason. You turned to face him. He could see a sheen on your cheeks and under your eyes from earlier tears. You held one arm against your body, your face pointed down at the concrete roof.

He looked at you in a wonderous, desperate gaze. You let out a quiet sob and so quickly caught your breath, not wanting your composure to be so easily let out taken away. Your thumb rubbed against your clutched arm, soothing your own anxiety as the tension grew like a thick blanket of mist that hovered over an autumn morning.

“Do you forgive me?”

It seemed you were guilt’s main entrée as well. Jason’s eyes flickered down for a moment; he knew what you were apologizing for: the sex, the squabble that took place the morning after, the avoided gazes and absent conversations. It was most of what he could see in the dim eyes that had been masked by bright contact lenses. He nodded, a question popping into his head.

“When did you find out?” he asked.

“Just this morning. I didn’t want to cause a scene at school.” You snuffled, your breath beginning to hiccup. “Oh, I’ve ruined myself!” A sudden release of confusion burst from you like trapped air. Your hands covered your wet eyes as your shoulders jutted and shuddered. Jason felt as if he should do something to comfort you. Maybe now was the right moment I was waiting for, he thought. 

He walked towards you and places a hand on your shoulder. Your sob turned into a sputter, and the runs from your nose mixed with saliva as it dribbled over your lips and down your chin. The specific grip of his calloused and dry hand would never feel unfamiliar. It was the same hand that retrieved your pencil after it fell on the floor. It was the same hands that always paid for you when you were strolling through town shops, even though you had already brought your own money. It was the same hand that braided your hair after you weren’t convinced he could do so, and it was also the hand that opened the door to a student’s party almost two months ago. 

The feeling of his hand touching your shoulder caught you off guard, but you would never flinch away from it. 

You quickly mustered your composure, quickly wiping your nose and cheeks, trying to eliminate any evidence of your sobbing. 

“What am I going to do?” you whispered, looking up at him. 

“No. We. And what we are going to do is get through this together,” he said. It was your to disagree, and you shook your head as you eyebrows furrowed together. 

“No, we can’t.”

“Why not?” Jason began to feel restless. It was a moment, no doubt, but he wanted this to be over with. He wanted to go on with his life the way it would be. He accepted the fact that you were carrying his child, and he was willing to do anything within his power in order for you to feel an acceptance as well.

“Because I can’t,” you blurted, which to a part of Jason didn’t come as a surprise. He didn’t care if he would have to take you to an island in order to feel comfortable, to feel like you could get through with this. 

“Maybe… maybe it would be better if we didn’t have a kid at all.”

Jason became horrified at what you said. He knew exactly what you meant, and he didn’t like the idea at all. 

“(Y/n). listen to what you’re saying. You shouldn’t just–” 

“Then you can raise it.” Jason was at a loss for words. His tongue went dry as he imagined himself with an infant in his arms and you out of sight, going on with life like it never happened. He could see himself being there for the child’s first word, and not wonder which parent he’s going to mention first. It twisted his heart like a towel being rung out. “It’s for the best.” 

“For the best? If I die, that child is an orphan! Is that what’s best for them?” Jason’s anger took the best of him, and he didn’t notice your flinch as his arms began to flail about. 

“It’ll have Bruce and your brothers.”

“I was an orphan! I was lucky that Bruce found me!” You shook your head. 

When Jason first rode to your grandmother’s apartment, he never imagined the discussion turning like this, but there they were, yelling at each other again. He wondered what happened to you, where the real you was, aghast at the words coming out of your mouth. 

It would never be the same after that night. No apology would really make a difference in the end. No needle, no wire, and no bottle of glue to stick the shards together could fix your relationship, and no matter what, something so harmless and sweet turned and would always be toxic and sour. You took a few steps back and turned around away from him, hugging your torso and appearing to him as you first did when he first came up to the roof. 

“We made a mistake, Jason. Figuratively… and literally.”

[jay-birddie]

Is there gonna be a part 2 to mistakes that we made? ❤️

yes! it’s in the works and just about finished. all that’s needed is transcribing from paper to computer and some editing.

[jay-birddie]

why are you pampering me so much? - jason todd x reader

summary: With Jason gone all the time, you make sure he gets through rare days spent solely with you.

request: Can I request for Jason x reader where she is just genuinely caring for him, giving him a much needed day off. Giving him a bath, washing his hair, cooking for him and massaging him. Just lots of FLUFF

warnings: none(?)

[photo not mine]

“Babe, I’m home.”

Jason used the leverage of each foot to slip off his shoe from the heel and kick them to the designated shoe mat by the front door. A mewl, so meek and desperate for attention caught Jason’s ears, and just like his cat, he perked at the sight of his companion.

“I think I got everything you needed.”

He bent down to the caress the cats head, cautious of the angle at which he leaned, not wanting the potatoes and carrots to tumble out of the paper bag he held in his arm.

“Babe?” He said a little louder, wondering if you had even heard him the first time, or if you were even still in the small one bedroom apartment.

“In the kitchen!” The tiny ounce of worry washed away, and a smile was brought to his face just by the sound of your sweet voice.

The knife cut each piece of chive, slicing the vegetable along with the board itself underneath. A pot of savory broth bubbled over the heat of the stove, giving off the delicious smell of his coming meal. His taste buds bursted with flavor before he had even eaten it, which told him just how much he loved the meals you made. In the oven, bread was toasting. It was only enough for the two of you, with an extra slice set aside for the stray dog that always visited around dinner time. Spices crowded the counters, and strained beans in a strainer took up the left side of the sink.

The scene was a bit untidy, but there in the center of it all, was you.

The crinkling of the paper bag releasing from his grip pulled your attention away from the blade of the sharp kitchen knife. He watched as you continued to chop even when not looking, your hands trained to have such a skill.

He noticed you study his face, to which he smiled at innocently. Instead of a smile in return, he received frown.

“You look tense,” you stated, which couldn’t even surprise him. It was always an asset of yours to notice even the tiniest of details, your mind so astute and insightful within its own.

“How come olives were moved from the canned food aisle to the condiment aisle? I spent twenty minutes trying to find those little fuckers and there they were on the middle shelf of condiment aisle!” He ran on a tangent, ranting over such a silly ordeal. It was quite funny to you, seeing your fiancé getting so worked up over little olives.

Your giggle interrupted his rant, and he couldn’t help but realizing his position and softly smiling along.

“You mustn’t be so tense about everything, Jason.” He heard the knife scrap the wooden cutting board and watched you look back to collect the minced chives and add them into the broth. “After dinner I’ll draw up a bath.”

Though the offering was appreciated, Jason was already occupied after dinner.

“Babe, I can’t, after dinner Bruce is having me—“

“Since when have you taken orders from him, freelancer?” Your statement was true; even though he was trying to make amends with his counterpart, a piece of him still held a natural defiance for the man. “How about a bargain?”

An eyebrow quipped intriguingly. You had always been so headstrong and convincing, always swaying him from one side to the other. He knew it would always be a kind of battle that ended in a defeat for him.

“What are you offering?”

“How about you ditch Bruce and whatever the hell he wants you to do, and instead, get a bath running and relax and de-stress. I’ll even join you,” you offered plainly. Purity laced your voice like the trim of a spring dress, which captivated his heart.

“Two for the price of one?” he commented, adding humor to the conversation. You couldn’t help but giggle, seeing the ironic pun behind it. He came up behind you as you moved to the next ingredient and snaked his arms under yours and wrapped them around your midriff, kissing your temple as you sliced the newly-bought potato. “Works for me.”

“Wonderful,” you said, smiling joyfully.

“Is it too hot for you? I can cool it a little if it is,” you asked, worried that you turned the bathtub into a hot tub. Some say that women have a higher tolerance to pain, and in this case, it was definitely true as you were already seated in the tub while Jason hissed after his foot came in contact with the surface of the water.

“No, no, it’s fine. Heated water is supposed to relax the muscles anyway,” he said through gritted teeth. He managed through the slight stinging of the water, knowing his body would get used to the temperature.

As he slid into the water, you awaited his comfort, crossing your legs and sitting up. He sat, leaning back and meeting your skin, back to breast. You cupped the water in your hands, raising them and pouring it atop jason’s head. You did it again, pouring it over his neck and shoulders, smiling slyly when he emitted a low groan that rumbled through his chest. He leaned his head back against your shoulder, closing his eyes and melting in your touch.

You rubbed the soap between your hands, creating bubbles. The suds smelled of lavender, a scent you chose specifically for the night. Softly gripping, you massaged his shoulders, feeling the hard knots beneath his rough skin.

Contrary to the harsh world he lived in, the warmth of the bath and the fingers now in his hair lapped it into something softer. It was like the flip of switch, giving light to a beautiful room complete with you. The light of bathroom was dim, muted and golden like a setting sun.

Smooth and sensual hands, gliding over his skin in circular motions. It was the ever most chaste of touches. It made the scene serene like an airy and light land, allowing him to indulge in the moment. For minutes he stayed like so, delicately heavy in your embrace as you proceeded to apply shampoo to his hair.

With his eyes being closed and head faced upward, he wasn’t prepared for the rush of water that cascaded over the top of his forehead and flowed back along his scalp. Droplets of water separated themselves from the stream despite your hand placed a little below his hairline to prevent as such. They dripped down to his eyelids and caused them to flutter instinctively. Another wave washed over and washed out the suds, leaving his stark raven hair clean and his body in a form of ecstasy that was indescribable.

In the days when Jason Todd felt nothing but feeling like a lost cause, he wondered if anyone out there would care for him in the future. There were times when he turned to the god that was praised at the nearby cathedral. The priests there said that God loved and cared for him, but how could God show it? He tried The Lord’s Prayer at night. He tried to commit to mass every Sunday, but the feeling still resided within the deep part of his corrupt mind.

But in the days he met you, he understood that he didn’t need to say a prayer every night. He recognized that he didn’t need to commit to a religious gathering. He realized that he didn’t need to wish or wonder if anyone would ever care for him in the future. The way you tended to him, looked at his scars like they were a three-dimensional pattern on a piece of priceless artwork changed his outlook on the cold, dark city he lived him. Despite what the priests said, you were his savior.

But, maybe God did hear his prayers and you were sent from him. Perhaps the Lord constructed your roads to intersect at just the right moment, but Jason knew he could never know the definitive cause of his relationship with you.

“Why are you pampering me so much, (Y/n)?”

“Because I want to.”

He knew that your response was much more meaningful despite it’s vagueness. Jason was ever so appreciative that he met you, and although the now pea-sized part always made him doubt, he knew that you at least cared; that you at least loved him more than any god could.

a/n: ah! thank you for the request!

[jay-birddie]

Can I request for Jason x reader where she is just genuinely caring for him, giving him a much needed day off. Giving him a bath, washing his hair, cooking for him and massaging him. Just lots of FLUFF

yes! it’s ready and coming out tonight!

[jay-birddie]

Are there any rules for requests? ❤️

nope, at least not now ;)

[jay-birddie]

Are you going to make a a part 2 of the mistakes we made? Ps. I love it

fret not, my child, it will come soon

[jay-birddie]

“Mistakes that we made” was SO GOOD, I am excited to see what else you write !!

thank you thank you thank you that means so so so much to me!!!!!!1!1!1! i had to get it out before i go out of town for the entire next week to visit family but requests are open so if you wanna request something go ahead!