stiles doing the accidentally hot things because he's so used to being considered ugly that it doesn't cross his mind?????????
stiles dropping unceremoniously on the couch and pushing his hips out as he manspreads to get comfortable, arm thrown over the top of it casually.
stiles clenching his jaw when he's frustrated or focused or horny- or all three. eyes roving over you because he's so mad he can't have you because ugh he's ugly and annoying and..... meanwhile you're trying not to drop to your knees and give it to him straight.
stiles leaning on the doorframe of your bedroom, arms crossed over his chest. explaining something something scott pack danger while you practically drool over his frame taking up so much room in the doorway.
stiles' adams apple, and that's it.
stiles' hands. have i mentioned his hands? they're like porn, only more erotic. he can't figure out why you're not retaining anything he's saying, but his hands are just.... there.
stiles getting confused at why you're so distracted lately, and then getting very, very confused when you stutter and blabber and blush and avoid eye contact with his grey sweatpants.
just.... stiles can be cocky, but remember that this boy spent his developmental years as a loser. he's a lil oblivious and it's the hottest torture ever istg
My first Bad Things Happen Bingo space! Prompt is Russian Roulette!
Characters: Jason Todd, Roman Sionis, Dick Grayson
Words: 1121
Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, Gun violence
Enjoy!
(cross--posted on ao3)
Click.
Jason doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t even look down at the pistol pressed into thigh, right above the rope keeping him bound to the cold metal chair. Black Mask leans in,
“Eight chambers, one bullet.” he drives the gun in harder, “How lucky are you feeling, Red Hood?”
Jason sets his jaw, breathing hard through his nose. He couldn’t answer that if he wanted to, with the wad of fabric shoved behind his teeth and tied in place. It’s a bad situation. A stupid situation, tied up for Roman Sionis in just his cargo pants and his mask. But he doesn’t show his hand. He glares right into Roman’s eyes.
Pull the damn trigger. See if I flinch.
Sionis’ lip curls, he pulls the trigger.
Click.
Jason tries to smile around the gag at Sionis. He wonders distantly if he even can die. If the universe would even let him go back to sleep.
“You’re fuckin’ nuts, kid.”
Roman withdraws, half-smiling, and stalks around Jason slowly. The room behind him is dark, dirty, a garage. A couple fluorescents dimly flicker above them, making the tools on workbenches, covered in rust, or blood, gleam.
Roman’s dress shoes halt behind him, as if he’s done thinking.
Fingers wind into his hair slowly, deliberately. Sionis likes to gloat, especially over the Red Hood, especially since Jason’s pretty sure the last time they met he made Roman piss himself. Or was it the time before? The memory makes him chuckle, or what passes for a chuckle around the gag.
Roman yanks his head back sharply, bending his neck at an uncomfortable angle, and before Jason can get his bearings the pistol is jammed under his chin.
“Somethin’ funny, asshole?”
Jason can’t control the way he grunts in surprise, or the ragged inhales through his nose caused by the awkward angle of his neck. Roman talks close to his ear,
“Remember, kid, I don’t need anything from you.” He yanks Jason’s head back harder, presses the gun further into the soft flesh beneath his chin, “You’re here because I wanna see you squirm before I drop you in the fuckin’ river.”
Jason swallows hard, trying to will his composure back. He’s not someone who squirms.
“You feelin’ brave?” Roman pulls the hammer back on the pistol, “Feelin’ lucky?”
Jason holds his breath.
Click.
“Ha!” Roman releases his hair, patting him firmly on the shoulder, “Look at that—look at that.”
He takes slow steps back into Jason’s view, and sits heavily on the stool facing Jason. Roman takes a long swig from a beer bottle, draining it, and then lets it clatter to the floor.
“Let’s try again, huh?”
Roman lunges forward, shoving the gun into Jason’s ribs.
“This is your last dance, Hood.”
Click. The gun moves to his kneecap. Ice slides down Jason’s spine—how many duds have they gone through? Three? He’d almost rather take a bullet to the head than his––
Click.
Sionis sucks on his teeth, “I’m almost sad to see you go, honest.” The gun comes down on the back of his hand, the one they broke earlier, pinning it to the arm of the chair with the barrel. Jason can’t stifle his pained yelp behind the gag,
“Almost.”
Not his hand, not his fucking—
Click. He lets out a breath, twinging his broken ribs. Four? That was four, he thinks? How the fuck did he lose count? Did Roman say six or eigh—?
CRACK. Jason sees stars, his head thrown into his shoulder when gunmetal hits his cheekbone. Rough fingers latch onto his chin, forcing him to look right at Roman as he holds the gun against Jason’s shoulder.
“Fifty–fifty shot.” Jason hears the hammer pull back, “It’s this, or the next one goes in your head-–”
BANG.
Jason screams behind the gag, head lolling forward, body trying to curl inward as Sionis howls with laughter. Blood pours down his chest, his ears ring, his eyes water at the burning, clawing agony of a point blank gunshot.
While Jason struggles to draw down a breath, Roman reloads the pistol, saying something Jason doesn’t quite catch. Not that he thinks he misses much, when the gun barrel presses into his other shoulder.
Fuck. He protests behind his gag, he can’t help it, but at the same time he forces his eyes up. Forces malice into his expression as Roman leans in again, digging the still hot gunmetal into his collarbone,
“You gonna sing for me again?”
Jason swallows around the cotton in his mouth. He won’t. Not if he can help it. Roman grins.
Click.
This time, Jason’s breathing stays even, his mind focused on his bleeding shoulder. He thinks the gun clicks again, but things start to go fuzzy around the edges.
Shutting down would really piss Sionis off, but it would be a resignation. Giving up on not dying this way.
But Jason can’t always help it. Sionis’ words start to melt together, his mind no longer tracking how many times the gun clicks against his wrist, his temple, his sternum.
Fuck, Jason, focus.
Maybe it’s the blood loss, his shoulder steadily draining his awareness away. He slips, and slips, and–
Reality snaps back into sharp, agonizing focus. Jason can’t make sense of it though, there’s shouting, and his shoulder hurts, it hurts so fucking bad and…
Someone has their fingers in his shoulder.
He yells through clenched teeth, jerking against his restraints in a vain attempt to get Roman off of him.
“--It’s me, Red Hood, breathe.”
Who?
Jason can’t seem to get his eyes to focus properly, but he finds the fingers driven into his shoulder. Blue and back fingers smeared with red.
Dick?
“Don’t look at it.” A hand—a much gentler hand than Roman’s—turns his jaw away from the sight, “Backup is coming.”
Jason finds Dick’s face. Nightwing’s mask. He looks serious, and Jason finds he has to focus hard to follow what he’s saying,
“--Hey, Can you hear me? You’re losing a lot of blood, I need you to stay awake.”
Jason hears himself agree. When did he lose the gag? Dick’s free hand snaps in front of his eyes,
“Focus.” It sounds like Bruce. Before Jason knows it his head is lolling forward again,
“Red Hood.”
Jason blinks hard, trying to clear the black dots spotting his vision.
How did Dick find him? What happened to Black Mask?
He thinks he hears other voices, and Dick shouting. He tries to stay awake, he really and truly does.
“Red Hood.”
A car engine, the smell of blood and leather,
“Jason!”
Someone digs into his shoulder. He tries to stay awake…he tries…it’s fucking cold.
When warm darkness embraces him, he can’t find it within himself to keep resisting.
in which, JASON TODD has got a big, fat crush on the neighborhood's bookstore owner; so it's not a surpise when he ends up inside of her, right?
‧₊˚✩彡
includes: jason todd x fem!reader, bookstore-owner!reader, mature content (17+), tw / cw: depictions of blood loss, stab wound, stitches, ... making out, thigh-humping, 'the knee thing,' begging, panty-ripping, oral (f. recieving), fingering, biting, marking, being bent over, mirror-sex, drooling, dirty-talk, sub!reader, creampie, 6.9k words.
‧₊˚✩彡
kinktober masterlist.
FOR ONCE, gotham was sunny. warm rays shone down through the large, floor to ceiling windows of your bookshop-- air tinged with scents like crisp autumn wind and faintly stale coffee. a few individuals traversed between each row of books, fingers running idly down the spine of the few that caught their eyes. it was calming. natural. a welcomed escape from the harsh reality that existed for many outside of the parameters of your humble store; an environment where worries melted off of the shoulders of even the most damned, and where the innocent could flourish.
from the register, you fiddled with a pen-- twirling it absentmindedly between your pointer and middle fingers. the motion was relaxed; practiced, and exuding only contentment.
however, the sound of your shop's door-bell chimed softly as a new civilian entered; and your movements paused, irises tracking down the face of the potential customer. to your slight surprise, (and something deep within your gut eerily similar to relief, or perhaps even giddy), recognition washed over you.
"jason," you called out softly, waving a hand towards one of your regular customers.
greenish-grey eyes flicked upwards to meet yours, and the man echoed your name. it sounded heavy on his tongue-- but not with angst; with care. "i'm back already," he grinned, wooden floorboards creaking with age as he stepped closer to the check-out where you remained.
a smile bloomed across your face. "missed me that much?" you questioned, teasing. "it's barely been a week."
jason shrugged noncommittally, hands raising playfully in surrender, though his freckled cheeks tinged a faint shade of red. "y'know you can't keep me away,"
the sound of your laughter combined, and floated its way to the ceiling of your bookstore. it clung to the wooden beams spanning the roof; seeping into the oak, willing itself into the history of the building.
when the laughter died down, you jutted your chin to the side-- motioning the back of your store. "a new shipment of second-hand books just arrived from metropolis; you know where to find 'em,"
jason saluted, "aye, aye captain," before making his way towards his desired items. the man would be kept occupied for a good little while with the boxes upon boxes of books you hadn't bothered to sort through yet; and you smiled quietly to yourself.
it was easy to recall the first time you had met jason; even easier to lose track of when your friendship had blurred into this slow, thumping heart-beat of comfort and familiarity. he came in at the beginning of each week, would purchase a handful of books, and would return the following week to do the same thing. after a few repeated cycles of this, you and him had begun to chit-chat beyond his payments-- and just like that, you had become acquainted with the large, handsome man.
beyond that, though, you didn't know much about him. as his fingers would dust across yours at the register, your eyes would linger on the collection of scars littered across his skin; but you never pushed. you understood that, while you looked forward to jason's arrival at your store like clock-work, the privacy of his life remained his.
the affairs he found himself tangled within outside of the haven you offered to gothamites alike was none of your business; all you could hope was that jason remained safe in whatever trials he thrust himself into.
especially now-- that thought crossed your mind as he approached a mere ten minutes later, with four books in his hands. dropping them on the counter-top, his cheeks dimpled. "i'm shocked i was able to pick only four, that new shipment is loaded with good shit."
you grinned, totaling the sticker-prices of the books into your register. "the four book only policy doesn't apply to you," you whispered, leaning forward ever so slightly, "take as many as you'd like." the scent of his cologne-- something earthy and inviting-- floated its way into your nose. you shivered.
jason's eyes widened softly, a dark eyebrow arching upwards. "willing to bend the rules just for me? i'm flattered," glancing towards jason's face, you wished for nothing more than to burn the image of his grin into your memory permanently.
"yeah, well," your eyes rolled, fingers typing away at your cash register, "you're a returning customer-- and i'm not worried you'll resell my shit for a lower price."
the sound of jason's laugh sounded nothing short of mesmerizing. "shouldn't judge a book by its cover," he said easily, "i'll put you out of business."
it was your turn to laugh softly as you reached beneath the front-desk, grabbing a re-usable bag for jason's books. the man took out his wallet, and dropped a twenty and a ten on the counter. "please," you scoffed, handing him his books, "the only way you'll put me out of business is by buying all of my fuckin' stock."
"that's right," jason agreed, nodding. black wisps of hair fell into his eyes, and he ran a sturdy hand through his locks. "i'll be back before you know it, pretty."
✩✩✩
night howled against the windows of your book-store, and the silence of after-hours was terribly loud. your keys jangled and clanked against your hip as you made your rounds-- making sure all the doors and windows were secured and locked. up and down each aisle you traversed, the smell of homey paper sticking to your skin as if the library was trying to fuse itself to you.
all the books were where they were supposed to be, and every possible place someone could break into was reinforced properly. you sighed, fingers clutching tightly onto the fabric of your leather coat. despite the familiarity and warmth your shop offered during the day-- there was something uncomfortable about it once night fell onto the city of gotham.
chuckling to yourself, you recalled the previous owner of the building nervously mentioning ghosts living within the walls.
how childish, you thought to yourself, unlocking the register to empty its contents, who believes in ghosts anyways? certainly not me--
a loud series of bangs on the back entrance of your store rattled the entire building, and the hairs on the back of your neck stood in urgency.
you remained in place silently, and in shock, for a few moments; save for a small lamp near the front desk, the rest of the lights in your bookstore were off-- who on earth wanted to be let into a seemingly closed bookstore?
when the banging continued, almost growing desperate, you had closed your eyes-- "fuck," you muttered, reaching into a cabinet within the front desk that held a baseball bat.
(living in gotham, you could have never been too careful.)
it took a few falsely-confident steps to make it to the back of your store, and the metal door that was the entrance from the alley-way at its behind. you swallowed, the pounding of someone's fist unrelenting against the cool metal. you considered yelling, alerting the potential threat to your prescence, but figured you'd lose the upper-hand-- so without much thought, you swung open the door, raising the baseball-bat as if to attack the perpetrator-- until exactly who it was startled you.
"red hood?" you gaped, fingers clutching tightly onto the bat as the vigilante's mask glimmered a cherry red underneath the subtle lighting of the moon. you were no stranger to gotham's silent heros; especially not as someone running a small-business that happened to remain open about an hour past dusk. seeing one in-person, much less face-to-face, was daunting; especially since you knew-- or at least, had heard-- what this one was capable of. shit, you thought idly, did he see me j-walk last night?
red hood raised his hands; or, well, one hand-- the other remained glued to his side, and upon further inspection, he seemed to be leaning heavily to the opposite side of his injury. when he spoke, his helmet had muffled his voice-- and the voice changer you assumed he had implemented, crackled and popped. if he had said anything else-- you were certain you would not have been able to distinguish it underneath the fuzz of his helmet's voice changer-- but you immediately recognized that the man was saying your name.
something ran down your spine, and your face contorted into a mixture of fear and confusion. "what the fuck?" you frowned, fingers itching at the wood of your baseball bat.
you soon realized, however, how useless the weapon was-- red hood pushed past you, barely brushing your figure, and into your book-store. you yelped in surprise, twisting your body to watch the vigilante as he traced, without error (as if he was familiar with the store layout), your bathroom. while you couldn't see him from where you stood anymore, you were able to watch light spill onto the wooden floor of your store-- a harsh, fluorescent glow lighting up the small bathroom.
exhaling deeply through your nose, you entered your store again and closed the back entrance to the door tightly-- locking the deadbolts, preventing anyone from entering or exiting. "hey!" you called out hurriedly, making your way towards where red hood was, "i'd appreciate it if you would tell me what the fuck you're doing in my book-store,"
red hood, very clearly, had made himself comfortable in the bathroom; his own jacket had been discarded and sat messily on the floor, and his black compression shirt was pulled up to just underneath his left pec-- a nasty wound, most likely from a knife, seeped blood onto his pants and onto the tiles of the bathroom floor. you heard the man hiss as he pressed a wad of damp paper-towel to the injury, and you cringed away harshly.
"fuck," you winced, a phantom pain shooting directly into the side of your mid-section.
red blurred your vision softly as red hood turned his head towards you. "do you have a first-aid kit?"
without answering, you moved into the tiny bathroom-- opening a cabinet on the wall to pull out exactly what he was looking for. you placed it onto the small counter-top, and popped it open; red hood immediately reaching for thread and a needle.
"hey," you stopped him, grabbing onto his gloved wrist, "there's a walk-in clinic right down the road-- i can drive you there, it'll take like five seconds--"
"no," red hood answered almost immediately, gently tearing his hand from your grip to continue rifling through your first-aid kit.
"no?" you questioned, eyebrows raising. "what do you mean no? you're bleeding out--"
"i'll be fine." he answered shortly, bringing a spool of thread to his mouth to tear a long string with his teeth. "and i came here for a reason," his voice changer crackled as he spoke.
confusion etched its way deeper onto your face. "what?"
red hood sighed, and the glimmer of his mask caught your eye as his head turned towards you; his stare was harsh, despite the fact that you couldn't even see his face. "you were the closest person i could come to," he answered awkwardly, one hand still holding the paper-towel to his wound, "closest person i know."
you opened your mouth to speak, simply baffled by what he meant; but his next actions stole the words right from your throat.
with his free hand, he dropped the medical supplies onto the counter-top, before gripping his helmet and tearing it off of his head; his vision remained glued to the floor as he shook his hair out, recognizable black locks falling onto his forehead.
"jason?" you gaped. "holy shit," you practically laughed-- because what were the odds the person you had seen less than seven hours ago was one of gotham's most well-known vigilantes. the humour in the situation, though, died out quickly-- as you watched his irises examine his wound closer now, slight panic arising in both of your throats.
moving without a second thought, your palms found jason's biceps, leading him to sit on the counter-top. "sit. let me do it," you said quickly, gesturing to the thread and needle.
jason gave a long exhale, resting his body-weight against the counter with little refusal; "you don't need to do this," he argued weakly.
you rolled your eyes, gently prying the paper-towels from his wound; luckily, with some of the blood cleaned up, was less serious than you had first assumed. "i want to."
"you didn't want to before i took the helmet off," jason laughed softly. the movement made him wince.
"that was because i assumed i didn't know you," you murmurred, tongue-sticking out of the corner of your mouth in deep concentration, "i couldn't have been responsible should anything have happened to a stranger. but now that i do know you, why not put the first-aid course i took four years ago to the test?"
though you didn't bother looking up, you could practically feel jason's face scrunching up. "so i'm your guinea pig?"
you offered the slightest of nods.
"i'm fucked."
"hey," you protested, "i patched up a kid with a scraped knee like last week. you're in great hands,"
"not quite the same thing as a minor stab wound, but still reassuring, i guess,"
jason felt you poke into a non-injured section of his torso gently with the needle, only to laugh. something spurred to life within your ribs.
✩✩✩
after about ten minutes of stitching, you finally finished-- tying off the last suture, your fingertips grazed his abdomen. they lingered, as if his body was pulling you in-- like something couldn't keep you from stepping away. jason's breath hitched.
you cleared you throat, reeling your hands back towards your body, remaining medical supplies tossed haphazardly onto the counter. "sorry," you breathed.
jason's hands brushed over the newly bandaged wound, examining carefully, before greenish-grey irises met yours in the small cracked mirror of your tiny bathroom. "don't be." he said simply, holding your gaze.
you had so many questions. they were burning at your throat, clawing at your tongue-- fighting you, willing themselves to be released. but the longer your eyes stayed trained on each-other's within the shitty little mirror, the less they wanted to escape.
it was odd; you had had this idea of jason, in the back of your mind-- every-time he stepped through your bookstore's doors, you wondered what kind of life he led. perhaps he was a teacher, or maybe a fire-fighter, you had day-dreamed once; he seemed like the kind of man that knew the real grit that covered every surface within gotham, and he seemed like the kind of man who wanted to erase it all. you had been right, in a way; because wasn't that what red hood stood for? nonetheless, the vigilante's identity had made your fingers quiver against his skin as you tended to his wound, and you knew jason was pointedly ignoring the tremor in your palms as you patched him up. you considered the fact that, he too, most likely knew it wasn't from who the version of himself he had hidden from you, but rather the one you thought you knew all too well.
the silence that followed wasn't uncomfortable. no, it was charged. the air between the two of you practically vibrated with what was once fear, now morphed into understanding, anxiousness; a yearning of sorts. it wasn't quite fear, but it was not quite relief either. now you had seen jason for what he truly was, and that was a scary thing to have admitted on both of your ends. you swallowed, eyes tracing downwards on jason's form in the mirror-- down the bridge of his nose, down to his lips (where they lingered for longer than what you wanted), and down to his jaw. examining him so closely, you could see the way his pulse jumped in his throat.
your reflection looked back at you—wide-eyed, flushed, and unsteady. naked, in some sort of sense. jason’s gaze dropped from the mirror to you, slow and deliberate, and you realized with a start that he wasn’t the only one feeling bare.
"why did you come here?" you asked, words so quiet on your lips you were certain jason had not heard you. when he answered, something spiked lowly in your gut.
"i told you," jason whispered back, "you were the closest person i trust."
"you trust me?"
"more than i'd like to admit." jason dragged a calloused hand through his hair. a nervous tick. "do you trust me?"
"yes." the answer was immediate, and the lack of hesitation made the corner of jason's eyes crinkle with the slightest hint of amusement.
the sound of his laugh sent sparks up your spine. "you shouldn't."
tilting your head to look at him, one of your eyebrows arched upwards. "you haven't shot me or anything yet, so i think i'm okay,"
jason laughed again. the sound was low, from the back of his throat. shamefully, your cunt throbbed. "you never know,"
"right," you agreed, "i think i'll take that risk."
jason watched your eyes flicker down to his lips, and took that as a sign-- crashing his mouth onto yours, he kissed you like his life depended on it.
there was nothing sweet about it, nothing gentle; nothing like the man jason was when he let his guard down around you, nothing like the man you thought you knew. his hands fumbled clumsily along your body, as if he didn't know what to do with them, until one of them cupped the back of your head and the other found your hip. using his strength, he kept you glued to his body; crooking your head to the side, you deepened the kiss.
jason groaned into your mouth once he felt your tongue drag against the fat of his bottom lip. he opened wider to allow you access into his mouth, and you grinned. it was messy-- spit dribbled down both of your faces, and your fingers had found themselves at jason's scalp-- pulling, tugging, willing him as close to you as he could get. the sounds of your breathing, laboured, shallow-- coupled with the wet noises coming from your kissing was obscene, and it echoed within the tiny bathroom of yours.
you began to suck on jason's tongue, and another pretty noise fell from his throat. using his hips, he shoved you backwards and onto the edge of the counter-top-- your ass digging into it's end. you whined, once you understood what he doing; jason used one of his knees to separate your legs, before he shoved his thigh right between your own.
the heat of your cunt, even through your jeans, was embarrassing. having jason's leg pushed up against your pussy, barely moving, barely giving you what you wanted-- he broke the kiss, voice raw and lips plump. "'s this okay?" he asked.
to his surprise, you laughed. "if it wasn't, i would have slapped you like.. five minutes ago,"
the man shrugged, bringing one of his hands to the side of your cheek-- his thumb idly playing with your bottom lip. "i was just making sure," he swallowed, "i didn't know if you wanted this."
"i mean," you started, eyes locking on the way his thumb lingered near the entrance of your mouth, "i would have preferred it if it didn't happen because you were stabbed."
jason nodded, corners of his mouth lifting upwards in the ghost of a smile, although there was little humor in his voice as he spoke, "me too."
"yeah?" you asked, voice teasing.
jason's voice was not teasing. "yeah."
something in your gut swirled, and you couldn't help but grind your hips-- your aching cunt-- down onto jason's thigh. he hummed, content at your action, finally shoving his thumb past your lips and into your mouth. he felt your tongue swirl around the pad of his thumb, lazily sucking as if you just needed something inside of your mouth.
when he spoke again, jason's voice had gone impossibly low. "i've always thought you were so gorgeous," jason began, "always thought you were way too pretty and too smart to be running a cute lil' shop like this, in this fuckin' city,"
without much thought, you nodded at his words-- the feeling of the seam of your jeans rubbing against his flexed thigh and knee, and onto your clit, far too intoxicating.
"i've been wanting to ask you out for forever, but every-time, i chickened out," he confessed, pushing his thumb deeper into your mouth, "that's it baby, grind that pussy onto my leg-- jus' like that,"
the sweetness of his confession combined with the filth of his praise made you moan around his digit-- hips quickening along his leg.
"i've thought about taking you out, maybe to see a nice lil' movie. maybe then-- oh, i know, feel's good, huh?-- maybe then we'd get dinner, there's a real nice place near china town i think you'd like,"
jason's words were becoming mush within your mind; nonetheless, they spurred you on, your clit pulsing and pussy sopping beneath the fabric of your ruined jeans and panties.
"then," he started, leaning forward to pepper kisses along your jaw, leading all the way to the shell of your ear, "then i'd take you home, and i'd make love to you so good, you'd never be able to fuck anyone else."
you moaned whorishly at his words, spit dribbling down your chin as his thigh brushed against your cunt again and again and again-- pleasure becoming all-consuming, and lust fogging every rational thought in your mind. "jason," you gasped out, words muffled by the man's thumb still in your mouth, "please." you begged.
"please what, sweetheart?" he questioned, pulling his finger from your mouth to let you speak, "tell me what you want."
all that consumed your mind was jason-- so that's exactly what you said. "you," you exasperated, fingers digging into his shoulders, "please i need you."
"mm," the sound of jason humming vibrated against your skin, his lips searing marks down your throat all the way to your collarbone. "keep begging, pretty girl. maybe then i'll give you what you want,"
grinding your cunt back and forth on his leg, your eyes welled up with tears of frustration; god, you needed him so badly. "jay," it fell from your lips in a gasp as jason began sucking harshly on your pulse-point, "please. please, anything you give me i- i'll take it, your fingers, your mouth, your dick--"
"m'giving you my thigh to grind on right now," you felt him smile against your skin, "isn't that enough?"
"more," you practically sobbed, other incoherent words flying from your throat at an embarrassing rate. back and forth and back again, humping jason's leg like a dog in heat. "please, jason."
pulling off of your neck with a pop, jason's lips glistened with saliva; the way he ran his tongue against the plump fat of his bottom lip, you'd think he was still able to taste you. "alright," he conceded finally, hooking two fingers into the waistband of your jeans to shrug them down your hips. when they had fallen to the floor, the man wasted no time in holding you tightly by the waist and propping you up onto the counter-top. the granite was cold against your bare bottom; you shivered.
before you could question what he was going to do next, jason sunk to his knees. it was tender, the way he studied the ruined fabric of your panties-- now on display right in front of his face. soft irises flicked upwards to meet yours, and your cunt throbbed with need. "please." jason paid your final plea no mind, lips connected to the plush of your thighs with a mission.
he kissed and he sucked and his bit-- teeth sinking into your leg just enough to make you moan, but not enough to hurt. darting his tongue outwards to soothe the blooming mark along your skin, he'd brush forward-- closer to your pussy-- to leave another violent hickey.
you began to squirm on the counter-top; hips involuntarily bucking towards jason's face-- seeking out any pleasure you could find. it was pathetic-- and if you hadn't been so drunk on fore-play, perhaps you would have cared about being so desperate in front of the man you liked. but the way your pussy was leaking down onto the granite, and the way your nipples had stiffened despite no attention being allotted to either of them-- you didn't give a fuck.
"patience," jason murmured, sucking deeply on your left thigh.
"i don't have much of it left."
at your snarky remark, jason's teeth bit into you-- the tiniest bit harder than his previous nips. you yelped, and he smiled against your skin.
opening your mouth to say something-- maybe beg, maybe cry, maybe snap-- jason cut you off when he reached two large hands forwards to grasp the edges of your panties. you face scrunched up, as if to say why not just pull them to the side? before a loud rip bounced off the walls of your bathroom.
within jason's hands-- the remains of your panties looked measley and useless; torn into two, jason tossed them onto the floor haphazardly.
"hey!" you gasped.
jason shrugged. "what? did you want me to keep them on you? not give you what you want?"
your face flushed, heat crawling up your neck. "well no,"
"exactly." jason leaned forward, lips pursing, and blew a cold gust of air onto your clit.
you couldn't fight the loud whine that escaped you at his actions, and jason's laugh rumbled deeply; his eyes danced upwards to your face again, and he made no effort to break the eye-contact as he pressed his mouth to your cunt.
the man licked a long stripe, flattening his tongue along your folds, slowly from your hole to your clit. you moaned, back arching away from the counter. 'jason!" you cried, fists clenching at the edge of the counter-top as he repeated his actions at a faster pace.
he moaned in response, reveling in the taste of you on his tongue, before his lips latched onto your clit. he sucked and sucked and sucked-- the sensation maddening. "i know," he cooed against your pussy, "you taste as good as you feel, baby,"
his tongue was unrelenting against your cunt-- jason lapping at your slick like a starved man. when he tilted his head downwards to lick and prod at your entrance-- the bridge of his nose brushed against your clit, and your hips stuttered along his face. "oh, jay," you moaned, body running hot at his actions.
jason's hands left your hips momentarily, reaching closer to your thighs-- only to hike them along his shoulders and back, inadvertently driving your cunt closer to his face. at the newfound angle, you both moaned in sync.
"god--" your breath hitched, "deeper, jason, c'mon,"
jason wasted no time in listening to your orders-- sticking his tongue past your sopping hole to tongue-fuck you with vigor. in and out and in again, his tongue practically curled and massaged your insides.
the man only pulled back for a second, to spit onto your aching cunt, before diving right back in. his tongue flattened against your folds again, his hands finding your hips. "this feel good, baby?" he asked.
you nodded, sweat beading at your temple.
jason's movements ceased, though his tongue remained connected to your pussy. "then fuck yourself on my tongue-- make yourself feel good, sweetheart,"
jason did not have to tell you twice-- your hips immediately began rocking along the man's appendage, the friction causing your lower stomach to coil with pressure.
you were, shamefully, lifting yourself off of the counter to grind against the vigilante's face now-- your own contorted and washed over by a myriad of pleasure and ecstasy. "jay," you moaned loudly, "please, i wanna cum,"
at your confession, jason's movements restarted again-- this time, with a renewed sense of purpose. he moaned into your cunt, vibrations only adding to the ever-growing sensation of your orgasm within your lower belly. "yeah?" he asked, voice muffled by your pussy.
"m-mhm!"
two of jason's fingers poked at your hole as his mouth re-attached to your clit-- and sunk in with ease. "shit, baby," he peeled himself off of you to mumble, "so fuckin' soaked for me-- this pussy's squeezing my fingers so good,"
you nodded, before your head lolled backwards as jason began sucking on your clit, his fingers curling and uncurling against your g-spot rapidly. there was no rhythm, no pattern; just jason chasing your orgasm as if it was his own.
the sound of your pussy squelching around his fingers was nothing short of obscene; your bathroom mirror was fogging up, and you hips tilted to meet the thrusts of jason's hand within you. greenish-grey irises blinked upwards to meet your own, and the intimacy your eye-contact sent you over the edge.
"jason," you gasped, jaw going slack, "m'cumming,"
jason smiled against your pussy, tongue and fingers working in tandem to keep you riding the high of your orgasm-- even as it dripped down his wrist and his chin.
your cunt pulsed and throbbed and squeezed like there was no tomorrow-- hips stuttering and shaking along jason's face, legs wrapping around his head in an effort to shut.
"i know," he praised, voice warm and low, dripping with arousal, as he continued to drag out your orgasm. "bet you feel so good, this wet fuckin' pussy painting my face," he whispered, delivering a final lick to your cunt, looong and slow, before he pulled away. "don't you, pretty?"
you nodded, chest heaving greatly. the aftershocks of your orgasm rocked your core, sending shivers from the tip of your spine all the way to your toes.
you couldn't remember the last time a man made you cum that hard. you can't remember the last time you made yourself cum that hard.
"well," he said, standing, "imagine how good my dick will feel."
you whined softly, bracing your hands along jason's chest when he finally stood in-between your legs. leaning forward, you connected your lips. the taste of your cunt on his lips was intoxicating.
lazily, jason kissed you back-- your tongues hadn't hesitated to be stuck down each other's throats, and your nails dragged down jason's torso. only when your fingertips met the bandages you had put on his wound earlier, did you stop.
"oh," you said lightly, "maybe we shouldn't; i don't want you to get even more hurt--"
jason cut you off with a roll of his eyes, his lips dancing across the bottom half of your face with ease. "baby," he mumbled between kisses, "a little cut won't stop me from makin' you feel good,"
"a little cut?" you laughed, slightly in shock. "you were stabbed."
"and? i'm a grown man, i can handle it."
his palms found your waist again, picking you up only to lower you onto the floor. when your feet met the tiles of the bathroom, he spun you around so you were facing the mirror. "don't come crawlin' back to me when your stitches are fucked, then, 'cause i won't redo them."
jason chuckled against your neck, his breath warm as you heard his belt buckle come un-done. "liar," he whispered. something flipped within your core. "we both know that if it'll end with me paying this," he reached a hand forward and around, to give your bare cunt several taps, "pretty pussy any attention, you won't say shit."
...
you hated that he was right. especially now knowing he could give you an orgasm that made you see god.
you rolled your eyes, your silence saying everything you couldn't. jason laughed again, before reaching into his boxers to pull out his throbbing cock.
"you made me so hard," he whispered along the shell of your ear. "see?"
his question, though, was not meant for you to literally see-- no, at his words, jason pressed his aching dick to your cunt, grinding his length along your folds at an infuriatingly slow pace.
you moaned. couldn't help it-- not at the sensation of every vein, every ridge, every bump along his cock skating over your pussy. "yeah," you nodded, bottom lip getting caught in between your teeth, "put it in me."
jason stilled for a moment at your words, before one of his hands flew from you hip and to the back of your neck-- pressing you firmly onto the counter-top. your torso was flush to the granite, and jason successfully had you bent. "i thought we established that you could beg better than that," his voice was low. serious. "with some manners."
shame flooded your system-- but the sensation of your pussy practically drooling onto jason's cock was far too enamouring for you to ignore. "please," you exhaled, "please, baby, put your cock in me-- i need it so badly,"
"that's better," jason hummed, beginning to grind his tip against your clit again. the sound of a low moan from the back of his throat fell onto your ears, and instinctively, you arched backwards and into the man.
"jay, please," you sobbed. jason's hand had travelled from the back of your neck to your head-- keeping you pressed securely to the counter-top. your irises met his, and your entire body tingled with need.
"please what? say what you want." he mocked, hips slowing as he continued to grind against your weeping pussy.
"please--!" you were growing desperate beyond coherent words. "please, jason, please just fuck me."
in the mirror, you watched jason grin. his cheeks dimpled and your stomach flipped. "atta girl," he lined himself up with your hole with ease, before slooowly pressing into you.
you both moaned as his cock began to fill you out-- inch by inch, the further he moved within your pussy, the more you both became drunk on one another.
your jaw had gone slack against the counter, cheek pressed to the cool surface by jason's sturdy hand as he finally bottomed out inside of you. his balls gently rocked against your clit, and he held you there-- unmoving, save for the occasional twitch of his cock.
"holy shit," he breathed out your name heavily, voice coated in a seductive euphoria. "you feel-- god, you feel like you were made for me,"
you whined at his words, arousal dripping onto his length crudely as the visceral need for jason to move enveloped you. "mhm," you hummed dumbly, "made for this fat fuckin' cock,"
the man moaned at your words, hips finally beginning to pace against your ass. it was steady, after a few thrusts-- his cock stretching your pussy out.
"yes," you cried, hands bracing the edge of the counter-top as his tip began to abuse your g-spot. "feels s'good, jay,"
"oh, i know, princess," he gasped, each plap, plap, plap! of his hips meeting your ass becoming more obscene than the last. your cunt pulsed as it surrounded his cock, sucking him in-- holding him, keeping you both impossibly close.
jason grunted and moaned loudly, in tandem with your cries of pleasure, and it spurred you on. without thinking, you began to back yourself up onto him-- meeting each thrust with a bounce of your ass on his cock.
to your surprise, jason's hand snaked its way between your throat and the counter, choking gently, before he yanked you upwards. his thrusts didn't stop-- in fact, his pace only quickened, cock moving in and out and in again at a brutal pace. "no," he said sharply, forcing your jaw upwards to make you look at him through the mirror's reflection, "let me do it. let me fuck you how i want, how you deserve to be fucked,"
your pussy was dripping-- soaking jason's cock as you observed in the mirror (through clouded, tear filled eyes), as he fucked you.
"see?" he questioned, grasp tightening ever so slightly around your throat, "such a good girl when you let me fuck you like this-- when you watch yourself take this cock,"
"yes, jay," you moaned, hands still gripping the counter. every single syllable that fell from his mouth went straight to your pussy, which fluttered whorishly around jason's dick as if it was the only thing it needed.
you had said other things, too; you babbled mindlessly as his dick drove in and out of you, punishing your aching and needy pussy. your feet kicked upwards as jason pushed your hips along the counter's edge, the weight of his hips slamming into your ass keeping you folded.
"haah," he moaned, grinding his cock impossibly deeper into your cunt. "shoulda done this sooner," he said, "shoulda stuffed this pretty little pussy so deep such a long time ago, i've been needin' it so bad,"
his words went straight to your cunt, and it squelched loudly around him in response. wordlessly, you were begging for more.
"oh, what's that? you been-- shiit-- needing it too, sweet girl?" he questioned, cock pistoning your pussy passionately.
"yes--! yes, yesyesyes, i needed this so badly," you agree, far too cock-drunk on the man to say anything else. your toes and fingertips tingled, pleasure bleeding into every sensation you had.
"now you've got it, s'okay, i'll take-- fuck-- i'll take care of you," jason tried his best, really, to keep his sentences together-- but the way your cunt was strangling his cock was starting to get the better of him.
his thrusts grew erratic-- out of time, sloppy-- as he bit down onto your shoulder, eyes still on yours in the mirror.
"i'm goin' to cum," you announced, his teeth sinking into your body only spurring on your second orgasm of the night. "i-- oh god, jason, i'm not going to be able to hold it--"
"then don't," he breathed out, his hand leaving your throat to travel to your clothed chest. despite the fabric of your shirt, jason still groped and molded your tits; he moaned into your neck, giving your right breast a hearty squeeze. "cum all over this fuckin' cock, baby,"
at his words, you obeyed. the corners of your vision went spotty as you head tilted backwards onto jason's shoulder-- your orgasm causing your entire body to twitch. your legs vibrated, and cunt spasmed along jason's dick-- to which you felt him throb inside of you in response.
"c-can i fill you up? inside?" he asked suddenly, thrusts impossibly random as he chased his own orgasm.
you were nodding your head before you could even think about it-- your pussy still beating intensely at his actions, clit pulsating and dripping with need. "holy shit-- yeah, jay, cum inside me,"
jason groaned again-- teeth biting into your shoulder and remaining there as he started to cum. hot, thick ropes, spurting into your pussy-- being stuffed deeper and deeper and deeper with every half-thrust that followed. the moans of the man seeped into your skin, jason drooling all over your body as he continued to pump himself deep inside of your womb.
the sensation of his cock inside you quickly became overstimulating-- but there wasn't anything you could do except moan as jason continued to fuck into you. "jay--!"
"fuck-- i know, sweet girl, i just-- haah-- just let me milk every last drop," and you were certain, as well, that jason was becoming overwhelmed in your pussy as well; hisses followed his moans now, and only when hot tears streamed down your cheeks, did jason pull out. you fell forward and onto the counter-top, the cold surface a harsh contrast to the heat that radiated off of both of your bodies in waves.
jason's body bent in half as he copied you-- except his chest was flush to your back. sweat dripped from his hairline and temple, and you felt a sloppy, warm kiss being pressed to the nape of your neck.
"mm," he hummed, eyes fluttering shut.
you mirrored him, the fluorescent lighting of your bookstore’s bathroom suddenly far too harsh against everything you were feeling. “jason?”
he grunted in response, the sound low and amused at the croak in your voice.
“if you liked me, you could’ve just said so,” you muttered. “no need to get yourself stabbed over it.”
his laughter vibrated softly against your skin. “you think I got stabbed because I couldn’t figure out how to confess to you?”
“the last book you bought from me was Romeo and Juliet,” you reminded him.
that earned a louder laugh, though he offered no defense. the sound was warm, almost boyish — and for a moment, it made you forget the blood still drying on his ribs; made you forget that his cum was seeping out of you.
“hey,” he murmured after a pause, “at least I didn’t die for it. been there, done that. wouldn’t recommend.”
you frowned, half-confused, half-concerned — but before you could ask, he leaned in, the smell of gunpowder and cologne and something entirely him pressing close.
“Thus with a kiss…” he whispered against your forehead, his lips ghosting over your skin, “I will not die again.”
for a heartbeat, neither of you moved. the line hung between you — tragic words rewritten into something fragile and defiant, something that belonged to him. to you.
and as his breath lingered against your temple, you realized there was far more to jason todd than the man who haunted your bookstore shelves. there was a story still being written — and somehow, you’d just found yourself in the middle of it.
PLUVOiA 25’ ® - masterlist
loren's thots: heyyy... how yall doing......... lmfao sorry this took a minute the universe threw an evil evil situationship at me w a man whos 6 ( S I X !!) whole yrs older than me.... god i love older men...... anyways its been consuming my mind and uh anything to do w sex has made me terribly emotional as a result but I POWERED THRU for yall i hope u like it.. n ya ik it wasnt the next one planned for kinktober no i didnt skip the eve and kyle pieces i js wanted to write for someone that i think yall would eat upppp so.. i love u all and omg freakin talk to me? omg cobwebs in my inbox damnnnn....
synopsis: Jason didn’t mean to keep your existence secret from his family—really! At first, it was for his and your own protection more than anything, his double life wasn’t just for any average person after all. But, even after the whole marriage and settling down thing, he may have just—honest to god—forgot to mention it?
includes: silly shenanigans, fluff, civilian wife!reader, + pregnant reader but it’s really only mentioned like twice, she/her pronouns used, oblivious & extremely confused batfam, jason & reader share a singular + 1/2 of a brain cell, domestic life, annoying siblings, jason being terrible at communicating, he’s also got a bit of a potty mouth, warning for my absolute horrible punctuation & run-on sentences + not beta-read
cast: jason todd, dick grayson, tim drake, damian wayne, cassandra cain, bruce wayne, alfred pennyworth, you!
a/n: I love Jason with a secret family trope >w< !!! thus I took it upon myself to write my own. sorry if anyone seems out of character or odd!! I tried to keep this as fun and lighthearted as possible <3 this is my first ever x reader fic! be kind to me world :3…
wc: 6.4k
09.28.25
In the beginning, Jason was apprehensive about you. You who approached him first, completely unprompted, at your favorite coffee shop. All red and fidgety with nerves when you asked him for his number.
At first he was sure it was a trap, someone sent sweet, unassuming you to catch him off guard. Try and trip him up then get him when he’s unprepared and vulnerable. After all, regular people didn’t just walk up to Jason on purpose to ask him anything, let alone on a date. Jason knew he didn’t really give off dinner and a movie vibes.
Still, something about you drew him in. Maybe it was the overwhelming normalcy of you. Your outfit was overly-casual, like one of those too-late-in-the-week-to-care outfits when it was only Tuesday. You had a kind of anxious, hurried jitteriness to you that screamed that late-for-everything-college-student vibe.
With your bag slung over your shoulder, bursting with notebooks, textbooks, and stray paper, and your iced-coffee order’s condensation beginning to soak your hands, you weren’t extraordinarily beautiful, or blindly radiant, or mysterious like you were hiding a million secrets from the world. You were just any other twenty-something year old running late for her morning classes.
You were also beginning to tense from Jason’s continued silence, embarrassment overwhelming your body language.
Just as you begin to open your mouth, laugh it off and go about your day pretending like you won’t be thinking about the most beautiful boy you’ve ever met’s hard rejection of you at your favorite coffee place (which you’d never be able to return to again) for the next thirty years of your life—he agreed.
With eyes narrowed in suspicion Jason gave you his number, telling himself it was only to figure out who’s ploy this was and what they wanted with him.
Well, Jason’s investigation lasted eight dates before becoming an official label. And somewhere between the meeting your family and the engagement to marriage pipeline, Jason had to admit you might have really just wanted his number.
Jason was unlike anyone you’d ever met, just like you’d known the second you laid eyes on him. He was rugged and rough around the edges in a charming way. Confident and unwavering at one minute, and then second guessing and completely stumbling over himself the next. When it came to you, he was so unsure about everything. Afraid his touch might break you into a million pieces, and his scars—literal and figurative—would scare you away. All he knew was he could not mess this ups
Jason was pretty closed off when you first started going out, he hid secrets you couldn’t begin to decipher and told lies like a priest spreading the gospel. It took a while to crack him open, but when you did the damage was irreparable.
You confronted him one night about his coming and goings at unholy hours of night and morning. It was not too long after the two of you moved in together, it was getting near impossible for him to hide the bruises from you now and the anxiety of not knowing where your boyfriend was disappearing to kept you up all night.
You wanted to give Jason his privacy, just let the sickening feeling coiling in your stomach slowly eat away at you. Keep it locked up snug and tight. But, one too many sleepless nights and you broke like a dam under distress.
Tears and flurried words and too many feelings for you to keep up with all came rushing out when he stumbled back into your shared apartment one night smelling blood, sweat, and something feminine. You asked if he was in some kind of trouble, or if there was someone else—if he didn’t want to be around you anymore that was totally fine, but at least let you know before you get into this too deep—
Jason cut off your rambling with a bone-crushing hug. Tripping over his own words in a hurry to reassure you, the thought of losing you enough of an adrenaline rush to have him forgetting about any injuries he may have procured and his heart feeling like it just might implode in his chest.
And then Jason broke too. He told you the truth—about everything. His nighttime activities moonlighting as Gotham’s vigilante slash crime lord, his history, his family. He spoke of the monsters he fought day in day out, the sacrifices he often had to make to keep a temporary peace in his city—often times those sacrifices having to be pieces of himself.
He told you about you, how you were his sanctuary. A reminder of what he fought for. Your innocence and light. You were no saint by any means, but you’d never be able to accumulate half the sin just he had on his hands in four lifetimes. You were there to remind him that there was still good worth fighting for in the world. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing you.
He then apologized profusely for lying to you, and you could never stay mad at him for long anyway. However, to make up for it (on his insistence) you did make him tell you the civilian identities of all your favorite heroes. A fair trade, you’d say.
Which now brings Jason here. Married, paying off a monthly mortgage, attending Thanksgiving and Christmas parties at your family’s house, waving to neighbors at ungodly hours of the morning as he walked your dogs, and soon expecting a little one of his own.
Yeah, it definitely wasn’t what four-years-ago-Jason would’ve imagined himself as either, or even further back than that Jason. He wouldn’t trade a second of it for the world.
He’d like to say a part of him was reluctant to tell his family of your guys’ relationship because they’d disapprove, and that was why they didn’t know. Saying something like you two were rushing into things and that you had no business being in their line of work due to the dangers. But, in all reality, even after Jason had started to rekindle his relationship with his family and see them more often, he’d just…forgotten.
To tell anybody, really. His family, his friends, he just thought at some point he had told people and they just never mentioned it—there was no way the people he surrounded himself with wouldn’t be able to find out. So, they had to have just no interest in you two, right?
Wrong. Apparently. Jason found out this fact firsthand.
Jason didn’t wear his wedding ring while at work, for obvious reasons. Some of the most notable being, it wasn’t very practical nor was it anyone’s business what the Red Hood’s love life was like. Plus, he didn’t want it to get dirty or risk losing it. He often opted out of wearing it all together deciding the best course of action is to leave it at home, however that night had been different.
Patrol had ended early one night, something Jason was rather irked by considering he’d rushed here from out of state visiting your family due to a false alarm ‘emergency’. He’d had to leave you behind and wouldn’t be able to see you for another week, as the excuse he’d given your family was supposed to be long-term and he refused to let you cut your visit short.
He, along with the other assorted members of Gotham’s vigilantes, ended up back in the Batcave. Jason sat by himself, off to the side where he was not sulking, and—more importantly—where you were not answering his messages.
Dick waltzes up to Jason, who doesn’t even acknowledge his presence, and flops down on the couch next to him,throwing his legs over Jason’s body and making a show of getting comfortable.
Jason glares at him over the screen of his phone and roughly shoves Dick’s feet off of him, promptly turning his attention back to his phone.
Dick cocks a brow. Jason had been particularly quiet and prickly tonight—and he means even more than usual.
It wasn’t uncommon for Jason to be in a bad mood, especially around them, but in recent years he’d been better. He’d started to actually spend time with them—even outside parole, reaching out first occasionally, and they could go several hours without him blowing up and storming off! All in all, Dick wouldn’t call Jason’s behavior unusual, just odd for it to be tonight of all nights.
“What’s so interesting?” Dick asks, nosiness curiosity getting the better of him. He switches his position, instead draping himself over Jason, who was still glued to his phone, and trying to peek at Jason’s screen.
“None of your business, dickhead!” Jason snaps, trying to push Dick away from him.
“What? What is it? Come on! I want to see!” Dick says insistently, chuckling as Jason gets more and more riled up. They wrestle for a moment, Jason outright childishly holding his phone up in the air, away from Dick, as Dick tries to grasp for it but is stopped by Jason’s hands and feet pushing him away.
“Is it something naughty?” Dick teases, mock gasping. “Is that why you won’t show me, Jason? Are you being a bad boy?”
“Shut up! You weirdo!”
Dick howls with laughter as all but Jason tackles him to the floor once Dick gets ahold of his phone. They continue their roughhousing, Dick trying to unlock Jason’s phone screen as Jason fights to get it back. However, Dick has rolled onto his stomach now, and hunches over the phone moving this way and that to prevent Jason from seizing it back. Their commotion draws over the other inhabitants of the cave.
Jason’s phone is snatched from Dick’s hands, Jason lunges after it but is held back by Dick.
“Don’t let him get it, Dami!” Dick says, a wild grin on his face and breathing harshly from laughing so hard.
Damian stands in front of them, Jason’s phone in his hand as he gives the phone a suspicious look. The lock screen is a picture of a woman, her back to the camera as she looks out at the setting sun across the ocean with her hand atop a dog’s head sitting obediently at her feet. Damian raises a brow slightly at this, but opts not to mention it. It wasn’t any of his business what Jason found aesthetically pleasing, after all.
He instead turns back to the real objective at hand: making Jason’s life miserable.
“What is that you’re hiding, Todd?” Damian demands, not asks. “Give it up now and save yourself the trouble. I will find out, one way or another.”
“I’m not hiding anything!” Jason says, irritated. He technically wasn’t lying. He wasn’t intentionally hiding anything from them. He was simply waiting for a very important message from you that he didn’t want to miss because of his annoying, asshole siblings.
Damian clicks his tongue, not believing Jason’s words. He crosses his arms and holds the phone out to his left, handing it over to Tim who starts examining it top to bottom.
Jason rolls his eyes, “You guys are making such an unbelievable deal out of this. It’s just a phone!”
“Nuh uh!” Dick ever-so-helpfully cuts in, his grin still having not left his face as he holds onto Jason even though Jason had stopped struggling. “It’s a phone you don’t want us to see! Which makes it much, much more than just a phone.”
Jason rolls his eyes harder, if that’s even possible, and attacks Dick again. This time, just for Dick being obnoxious.
Tim continues to look over the phone with a critical eye. The case is a black otterbox, the lock screen the picture of a woman and a dog, and a basic numbered password locks the phone. Overall, nothing stands out to him. No secret mechanics or buttons. Well, nothing but the fact that this was definitely not the phone Jason used around them.
That was nothing too shocking though, they all had secret phones. Except the fact that this one seemed to be the personal one, not the work one.
Okay—maybe Jason was hiding one little thing from them, but hiding his personal number from them was nothing egregious.
“A secret phone?” Cass says as she looks over Tim’s shoulder, a smirk on her face and a conspiring glint in her eyes.
“Seems like it.” Tim replies, ignoring Jason and Dick’s squabbling, a twin smirk on his mouth.
“Open it, Drake!” Damian says impatiently, smacking Tim’s arm repeatedly.
“Alright, alright! Stop it!” Tim shakes Damian’s hand off and tries to unlock the phone. He first tries numerous combinations of numbers he knows Jason would use to try and trip them up, but they don’t work. Tim frowns.
Of course they didn’t work, the password was your birthday, but Jason would never use something so simple as a birthday as a password, right? Not that they knew your birthday, anyway.
Jason made it easy for you. He never used his personal phone for anything other than you and the civilian side of his life, anyway.
Usually, he never carries his personal phone with him while he’s at work, much like his wedding ring, and he would never give you his work phone contact to potentially have your number compromised if his phone is ever stolen while he’s out at night. All he has installed on your phone while he’s out is a panic button, it’s made to alert him immediately on any of his devices of your location once it’s activated.
Tonight, though, in his rush he’d kept his personal phone on him—and thank god for it otherwise he’d be bored out of his mind, stuck in the batcave with only his family to keep him company. Well, up till you stopped replying of course.
Tim tries four more passwords before the phone shuts him out for a two minute cool-down. Tim grumbles deep in his throat, starting to get irritated himself.
“Jason, what is it?” Tim grumbles, tapping his foot insistently waiting for the two minutes to finish up. “What’s the password?” Jason doesn’t answer, too caught up with getting out of Dick’s headlock.
“Try one-two-three-four.” Cass suggests.
“Why would it be one-two-three-four?” Tim asks, exasperated. Cass shrugs. Tim sighs.
Jason’s phone suddenly dings with a notification, the sound drowned out by the surrounding chaos. Still, it cuts through the cacophony of noise to Jason like a siren.
“Message from ‘ba—’” Tim starts to read. Jason leaps off of Dick, his brother yelping as he’s trampled under Jason’s feet.
His heart soared when he saw your name on his screen. His shoulders loosens and his face softens, his heart beats a million miles an hour as he taps to open the message. However, his demeanor quickly sours once again once he sees he’s locked out for another forty-two seconds.
Cass’ brows rise imperceptibly as she watches Jason’s body language rapidly change, seemingly going unnoticed by their brothers. She grins and studies Jason closely, thoroughly intrigued now.
She cocks her head, that sly grin still splayed across her lips, and approaches Jason. She peeks over at his phone screen that he alternates from glaring at to Tim and back.
“Who is it?” She asks in a whisper, like they were trading secrets under a comforter way past their bedtime. She hangs over Jason’s arm, trying to get a look at the message as the timer ticks closer to zero, before she’s pushed out of the way by Damian.
“What? What is it?” Damian demands. “I want to see.” He tugs down at Jason’s arm, trying to move it out of the way and snatch the phone back.
Cass pushes Damian back and retakes her spot, Damian doesn’t take kindly to that and soon they’re having an all-out tug of war with Jason’s forearm.
Jason tries to push them both off, but he’s quickly bombarded by his plethora of siblings. Dick finally gets up off the floor with a groan and drapes himself over Jason’s back, and Tim takes a spot hanging over Jason’s other open arm. His siblings’ voices all overlap one another as they continuously get louder trying to speak over the others, making it nearly impossible to pinpoint what one is saying. However, if Jason had to guess, the gist of it all was them wanting to know what was on his phone.
“Would you idiots calm down?!” Jason shouts over them, though it does little to quell their mayhem. However, once he ever-so-casually drops that it’s just you messaging him, that gets them to freeze and the cave suddenly goes dead silent.
Jason rolls his eyes, finally squeezing out of his siblings’ grasps and walking back over to the couch he was previously sitting on. All the while, Dick, Cass, Tim, and Damian stare after him in utter confusion, Jason doesn’t even notice their puzzlement.
The four share looks with each other, looking to one another for answers but coming up short each time.
“Uh…” Tim finally speaks up, “Who?”
Jason repeated your name absentmindedly, like it was one he said on a result basis. Like it was one they were supposed to know.
This also catches the attention of Bruce, who’d previously been sitting at the batcomputer ignoring his children’s rambunctiousness. The four kids glance back at him for answers, but he has no answer for him.
“Right.” Dick says, walking over to Jason who was almost giddily tapping away at his phone, completely unaware of their odd behavior. “And…who is that again?”
Dick chuckles awkwardly, trying to gently coax an answer out of Jason. He leans over the back of the couch and peers at Jason’s phone with his siblings joining him, no resistance from the younger man this time.
However, that seemed to be the wrong thing to ask as Jason whirls around to glower at Dick, pure disbelief and outrage on his face like Dick had just committed the most heinous of crimes.
“Are you serious?” Jason asks, tone hard and deadly. “My wife, jackass?”
Jason scoffs and turns away from Dick, and Dick notices for the first time that night Jason’s fiddling with the necklace strung around his throat. The necklace with a wedding ring hung from it, the inside of the ring engraved with ‘Mr & Mrs’ followed by initials of two names, one he knew as Jason’s and the other hyphenated, and a date. A wedding date if Dick was so bold to assume.
The cave was now so quiet Dick could swear even the resident bats had stopped to settle into absolute shock. He could practically hear Tim’s jaw drop to the floor.
Also for the first time that night, Dick got a good view of Jason’s phone screen. Jason was scrolling through a chat on his messages app;
‘baby 💍💖’:
sorry!! I got caught up in a poker tournament (ᗒᗣᗕ)՞
but don’t worry you worry your pretty little head sugar, I won hehehe (¬‿¬ )
no matter what that little tyrant cousin of mine tries to say
[6 attachments]
what do you think of these ones??
Dick watches in stunned silence as Jason replies to each message, taking time to reply to the person saved as ‘baby’ with a heart and ring in his phone that texts with emoticons, with care and attention.
Dick thinks he nearly falls to his knees with a heart attack when he sees the images sent to Jason were baby cribs—and he’s pretty sure Bruce actually does when he hears a strangled gasp to his left. He hadn’t even noticed when the man had come up and joined him and the others, but there he stands mouth agape and his skin a worrying pallor.
“Todd…” Damian is the first to the silence, his voice barely above a whisper at first thought he might as well have just set off a hydrogen bomb.
“You have a wife?!” The boy screeches, voice raising an octave in disbelief.
“Since when?” Cass asks next, in complete disarray.
“Since how?” Tim chimes in, eyes nearly bulging out of his head trying to piece some puzzle together.
“Jason…” Bruce says breathlessly, the quietest among them sans Dick’s abstaining, the gears in his head working overtime trying to figure things out. His brow furrowed and his eyes rapidly blinking, he looks almost…hurt.
Jason looks at them all quizzically, almost appearing as confused as them though Dick is positive that may be impossible.
“What? What are you morons talking about?” Jason asks, his demeanor truly lost.
“What are you talking about?” Dick can’t help but throw his question back at him. He feels his legs starting to get shaky and he has to sit down.
“I’ve been married.” Jason says as if he’s stating the sky is blue.
“Jason…I—why didn’t you—when did—“ Possibly for the first time ever Dick witnesses Bruce at a loss for words. No contingency plan existed for missing your son’s wedding, apparently.
Jason stares at them all strangely, seeming particularly unsettled by Bruce’s reaction. “Uh…yeah. I’ve been married for like two years now.” He says casually.
“Two—two years?!” Tim and Dick shout simultaneously, Dick shooting to his feet. Bruce releases another one of those dying animal sounds and sits down where Dick was previously before he could topple to the floor, rubbing his hand over his face.
“Yeah…” Jason is startled now, clarity slowly starting to creep into his features now. “Didn’t I…tell you guys?” He asks apprehensively.
“No!” They all shout back.
“Well, how did you not know?!” Jason replies defensively. “Aren’t you people supposed to be the ‘world’s greatest detectives’?”
“Jason, no offense, buddy, but you don’t exactly give off the whole loving husband vibe.” Tim says, looking Jason over as if seeing a whole new person.
Jason’s face screws up in definite offense. “Oh fu—”
“You are having a baby!” Cass interrupts, tone caught somewhere between bewilderment and excitement. She’d snagged Jason’s phone while he’d been distracted and now she and Damian scroll through the two of your messages.
Bruce really does collapse that time.
It’s the next day when they all gather together again. The night before, after Dick and Jason had deposited Bruce in his bedroom upstairs, they’d all agreed to get some sleep and resume their talk in the morning. Hopefully, some rest and preparation would help soothe the situation and their conversation can happen in a more civilized manner.
That was the plan, however, even Jason walked into the dining room the next morning for breakfast, he found his family already there looking as if they hadn’t slept a wink.
Jason sits down in his usual seat, ignoring the disappointed look Alfred gives him as he places a plate in front of him. They all sit in silence as Jason serves himself breakfast.
“Look…it was uh—an honest mistake.” Jason says sheepishly, breaking the silence. The sound of forks scraping porcelain halts at Jason’s words as his family all look up and stare at him incredulously.
“An honest mistake?” Dick asks, as if his lack of sleep was causing auditory hallucinations.
“To neglect to inform us that you’ve been in a relationship. The past four years.” Damian tags on—rather judgmentally might Jason add.
“And married. The last two.” Tim says. What was this, some kind of circus act?
“Also, you are expecting a baby.” Cass helpfully adds.
Jason shrugs, finding his food rather captivating. “Could happen to anybody.” That was that catalyst. All of a sudden everyone is speaking loudly trying to speak over each other.
“Right. That too. Is there anything else you’ve forgotten to tell us about, Jason?” Dick asks, overly sarcastic. “You know, besides your secret family.”
“Any more babies?” Cass—voice bright.
“Oh god, please, no.” Bruce moans.
“Why have you hidden this woman from us, Todd? Are you ashamed?” Damian narrows his eyes suspiciously.
“What—no—!”
“Is she a hero?” Tim.
“Who does she work with?” Bruce.
“Is she a criminal? That would explain your reluctance.” Damian, again.
“No, she’s not—”
“Who is she? What does she look like?“
“Are you going to invite her over?”
“Oh! Tell her to come to dinner tonight!”
Jason could hardly keep up anymore, between his brothers’ rapid questions, Bruce’s hard scrutiny—as if he could figure every answer to his questions if he stared at Jason long enough, and Cass making dinner plans with Alfred.
“Shut up! How am I supposed to answer anything if you don’t give me time to breathe?” Jason snaps, huffing and throwing his fork down. “Ruined my damn breakfast.” He mutters, crossing his arms across his chest.
“Oh, quit pouting, Todd—” Damian rolls his eyes.
“I am not pouting, you little—”
“That’s enough!” Bruce cuts in, his tone firm and commanding, quelling the cacophony of voices.
“Jason…” He says, trailing off like he wasn’t sure where he was originally going with his sentence. “Are you sure about this? Marriage is uh…a big decision—”
Jason snorts, cutting Bruce off before he could hurt something with how uncomfortable he was. “Little late for that, big guy.”
“When are you bringing her over?” Cass inquires again. She seemed to be the only one finding the positive in this situation. “Tonight? What should we make for dinner? Does she have any allergies? Alfred—”
Cass turns to Alfred and continues with her dinner plans, not waiting to consult with Jason.
“She can’t come tonight.” Jason rolls his eyes, sighing heavily. “She’s visiting her family in her hometown.”
A collective groan of disappointment resounds around the room, even Alfred and Bruce seem to huff a bit in despondency.
“So even your own wife can’t stand to be around you, huh?” Damian taunts.
“I swear to god—”
A week later, you and Jason stand out front the manor.
“We can leave, if you want.” Jason says, squeezing your hand reassuringly. Though, you think that was more for himself than you. “Really. No offense on either side, we’ll just say something came up with the baby. That you’re not feeling good, or—”
“Jason.” You interrupt, gently gripping his hand in both of yours. “It’s going to be fine. I promise.”
“I know. I know that. Of course it’s going to be fine.” Jason scoffs, seemingly thinking his casual attitude covered up the stiffness of his shoulders. Your sweet Jason, doesn’t he know you know him too well for that?
“Doesn’t mean I have to want to do it.” He mutters under his breath. You huff out a small breath of laughter, shaking your head.
You rub comforting circles on the back of Jason’s hand. “You ready?” You ask, hopping excitedly on the tips of your toes once you two stop in front of the large, double front doors.
Jason softened as he observed you. A smile slowly overtaking his smile and his shoulders loosening, your presence was calming and your smile infectious. He couldn’t help but almost share in your excitement—almost.
Before you could even finish knocking, the door swings open. Standing in the threshold was Jason’s sister, and if you didn’t know any better you’d suspect she’d been standing there watching and waiting for you two to knock.
She looks over you critically, doing a full head to toe scan of you before looking you straight in the eyes.
You clear your throat, squeezing Jason’s hand for courage. However, before you can let nerves get the better of you, her face breaks out into a brilliant smile.
“Hi!” Cass says, her eagerness barely being restrained. “Welcome! I am Cassandra—but just call me Cass.”
Cass reaches out for your hand, pausing for a moment to see if you’re alright with her grabbing ahold of it. You meet her halfway—much to Jason’s dismay—and you swear the sun shines a little brighter as her face lightens.
She pulls you into the foyer, talking amicably with her entire body as if there weren’t enough words in the world to express her thoughts. “I’m so excited to meet you! I can’t believe Jason has tried to hide you from us.”
“I didn’t—” Jason tries to cut in.
“I asked Jason what you like so I hope everything is perfect for you.” Cass says excitedly, ignoring Jason’s grumbling. She pulls you along further and you have to pick up the pace to keep up with her.
“Hey, careful!” Jason growls, you swat at him and quietly tell him to ‘knock it off’. He looks at you with blatant offense, his eyes telling you he can’t believe you’re taking her side. You roll your eyes and continue following Cass.
Cass drags you into the dining room, Jason trailing in not far behind you. The atmosphere is warm with candles lit and the table all set, the air filled with the comforting smell of all your favorite foods.
An old man dressed in a butler’s suit appears through a swinging door, presumably from the kitchen the smells of food are wafting from.
“Good evening, Miss.” He smiles politely, warm and grandfatherly. “I am Alfred Pennyworth, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
You brighten at the familiar name. “Ah! Alfred, yes, Jason’s told me so much about you!” Alfred nods and pulls out a seat for you, you take it gratefully. You smile jubilantly at Jason as he takes the seat next to you, conveying an ‘I told you so!’, absolutely elated with the smooth meetings so far.
Jason shakes his head fondly. Cass pats your arm on her way out of the dining room, smiling reassuringly. Faintly, drop the hall in the foyer you’d just arrived from, you hear her voice call out; “They’re here! Dinner!”
A moment of silence goes by. You and Jason were left alone in the dining room speaking quietly amongst yourselves, Jason’s hand never having left yours.
Then, you hear thundering footsteps approaching from the hallway. Jason groans and slumps down into his chair.
The dining room door bursts open, and a man you recognize as Dick Grayson, Jason’s older brother, stumbles in pushing through the crowd of his younger siblings also trying to fight their way in. You giggle and his eyes snap to you, his face brightening with a charming smile.
He calls out your name and approaches you with his arms spread like he was coming in for a hug. “It’s so great to finally meet you! I’d like to say Jason has told me a lot about you, but he really hasn’t.” He says, obviously still bitter over the fact Jason had kept your relationship a secret from him.
You chuckle sheepishly, glancing at Jason who was glaring at Dick. Jason told you about how it may have slipped his mind the least couple years to mention he was in a relationship to his family. You couldn’t even really be upset considering the fact it may have…slipped yours as well?
The thing was you had met his family before! Sort of. About a year into you two dating, Jason had dragged you to a gala hosted by Bruce Wayne, practically begging you to accompany him so he wouldn’t be ‘bored to death surrounded by a bunch of pompous assholes’ (his words, not yours). You’d clung to Jason’s arm the whole time as Jason skirted on the edges of the ballroom, and fifteen minutes in you two had elected to ditch the event as a whole instead having a date night in.
Throughout the evening, however, quite a couple of his family members had chased him down, and at the least greeted him before he could shake them off. Ok, you guess you can see how Bering seen walking beside Jason at a gala filled to the brim with people could be overlooked as a proper introduction.
But you knew of Jason’s unconventional relationship with his family, he’d only just started—slowly, integrating himself into their lives after all, so you never pushed for anything.
You felt a bit guilty now, though, after finding out how upset his family had been about not knowing of you.
Dick tries to take the seat next to you but Cass is quiet and silent as she slips behind him, yanking the chair out from under Dick before he can properly sit down and sending him crashing to the floor. She maneuvers the chair around him and places the seat next to you again, sitting down with a smug grin.
Jason bursts out laughing. You try to stifle your own laughter and ask Dick if he’s okay, but with the way Cass and Jason are looking at you with amusement you must be doing a terrible job.
The youngest of the bunch, that you know is Damian Wayne, clicks his tongue. “Get off the floor, Richard, you are embarrassing me.”
You nearly lose your composure again after hearing the words coming out of the young man’s mouth. You can’t help finding it incredibly endearing how prim and proper he presented himself. You really do laugh when the boy’s face turns bright red after you tell him that very notion.
Last to enter is Tim Drake, snickering at the sulking Dick who took the seat across from you instead, and the blushing Damian.
You’re pleasantly surprised how easily you all slip into comfortable conversation. Laughing and teasing, trading stories and lighthearted secrets as if you’ve been doing it for years.
You were having an amazing time, any doubt or anxiety you previously had completely disappearing with your reverberating laughter. Even Jason had lightened up.
Bruce Wayne finally made his appearance once Alfred began bringing out the night’s dinner on trays.
You stiffen imperceptibly, that anxiety slowly creeping back into your stomach, but you don’t let it dampen your mood. Only sitting up straighter and keeping your carefree smile on your face.
Jason sets a reassuring hand on your thigh, heavy and warm and familiar. It soothes your nerves and you take his hand in yours, sending a smile his way.
Bruce sits down quietly, the other Wayne family members not bothering to briefly break in their conversations to acknowledge him. He seems content with this so you don’t say anything either, only waiting for him to look up and meet your eyes.
You greet him politely, and he says your name in return with a small nod. From what you’ve heard from Jason that is a wonderful sign and probably the most you’re going to get out of him, so you take it in stride and smile widely returning to the rest of the table.
It was nice being so included in their inner circle. You had a bit of a rocky relationship with your family yourself, but you’d all been working on it in recent years. However, the way you slipped so naturally into their dysfunctional quota was like a missing piece of a puzzle finally finding its home.
You could feel even through all the teasing and poking fun that this family would always have each other’s backs. Through the rough and hard times, or even when they’re at each other’s throats, they’d never give up on one another. Knowing Jason had something like that to look after him if anything ever happened to you comforted a piece of your soul.
Halfway through dinner, you glanced at Bruce Wayne, having almost forgotten he was there. Silently he sat, eating his dinner and observing the attendants at the table and your heart melts as you saw the contented warmth in his eyes. He met your eyes and gave you a slight, warm smile, you saw the way he watched Jason and you.
How open and easygoing Jason became with you around, his arm thrown over the back of your chair and him openly talking and laughing without a care. Your heart soared as he gave you an approving nod, almost thanking you for taking care of his son.
Wow. You totally got why people lost their mind’s for the Batman’s approval now.
“Hey.” You’re pulled away from Cass and answering her million questions about your pregnancy; ‘Did you know what it was yet?’ ‘How far along are you?’ ‘Have you picked out names?’ ‘What do you think about this nursery? Or this one?’ ‘Have you considered Kassandra if it’s a girl? With a K of course.’—when Tim whisper-yelled your name across the table.
You chuckled leaning in with the others as they all acquired a conspiring glints in their eyes.
“Be honest—did you totally kick Jason’s ass when you found out his incredible incompetence struck again?” Damian asks, almost excited to hear about your imagined wrath.
“Please tell me you did.” Tim chimed in, still whispering as if Jason wasn’t sitting directly to your left.
“Oh, don’t be too upset with him!” Dick says, though his wolfish grin betrayed his true thoughts. “He’s not the brightest person sometimes, but he means well! We all have our flaws.”
Jason scoffs and you could practically hear him roll his eyes. You respond before Jason can start retort.
“Well actually…” You begin, tentatively. “I thought you all knew too.” You confess.
The table goes silent.
“I just thought none of you ever mentioned anything! So I didn’t either.” You chuckle bashfully.
Well weren’t you two just a pair of peas in a pod.
“And technically!” You add quickly, trying to defend yourself. “We have met before! At a gala, three years ago, around Christmas time.”
“The Christmas Wayne Foundation gala…?” Dick mumbles.
“Mhm!” You nod, Jason holding a hand up to you as if you were proving some point of his.
“Three years ago…” Tim says, almost like he’s trying to make sure he heard you right.
“Where Jason avoided us the whole night and then disappeared before the event really even started?” Cass asks, this time. You’re sort of starting to get the feeling you’ve said the wrong thing.
You nod again, a little less assured now. “Well, yes. But I was there with him!”
“That counts as a meeting, right? I did see all of you.” You turn to Jason who nods in agreement.
“Not your fault they couldn’t put two and two together—” Jason tries to say.
“No!” They shout in unison.
“Are you people living in delusion?”
“You didn’t even invite us to the wedding! How’re we supposed to guess that you’re married?”
“Well it was small! There were only like—two other people there anyway!” Jason tries to defend.
“Not even a Facebook relationship status change?”
Lesson learned. Jason will never assume the ‘world’s greatest detectives’ (derogatory) knew everything ever again.
It also didn’t sail too smoothly when Jason got the bright idea to check if he maybe ever informed his friends of his relationship status. (Spoiler: he hadn’t.)
wouldn’t it be so funny if the the batkids had a secret trigger phrase system for galas? basically, every time bruce says a certain phrase during his speech, a batkid must do a specific unhinged thing.
here are a few examples:
“wayne enterprises is thriving”: jason has to kiss two fingers, point to the ceiling, before downing his glass
“proud to support gotham”: dick must yell “WOO YEAH GOTHAM BABY” like a frat pledge. every time. he once knocked over a senator’s mini canape tower doing it
“community matters”: damian has to silently take the nearest silverware/art/object of value, and pocket it while making unwavering eye contact with the nearest stranger (don’t ask how they managed to convince him to go along with the bit)
“family is everything”: tim sheds one award-winning tear. just one. that never fails to choke up those surrounding him.
and a bonus wildcard rule:
if bruce says anything about “gratitude,” EVERY batkid nods solemnly and whispers “for now.”
and you KNOW that they absolutely keep score as to whoever commits the best. the prize being that the winner gets to choose one (1) rule the others MUST abide by for a whole week.
previous prizes have included:
tim once won and made a house rule that no one was allowed to wake him up for anything (disaster. crime went up, gotham almost burned. but. rules are rules)
damian won and selected “no shoes inside the manor” and enforced it like a warlord (bruce had to brief the justice league in socks. wonder woman took a photo.)
dick made a rule that everyone had to compliment him before asking anything of him. it was hell.
steph (when she gets to play) forced them all to sync their jog cycles for one week (they looked like a mafia flash mob everywhere they went). (bruce was so done).
when tim won he implemented “dramatic pausing” week, where everyone had to stop mid-sentence once a day and stare into the middle distance like a cw protagonist
jason todd and you are only fucking, nothing more than that, no strings, nothing. until one night, he whispers... (+18) ˚.✦
"I love you," he says—moans, really—right before he comes, hips slamming deep, spilling inside you with a broken groan that rips through both of you.
The words hit you like a punch to the sternum.
You freeze, mid-orgasm, body clenching around him while your brain tries to reboot. He keeps moving through the aftershocks, shuddering, panting against your throat like he didn’t just say the one thing neither of you ever said out loud.
He stills eventually, heavy on top of you, breathing ragged. You’re both slick with sweat, hearts hammering against each other. The silence stretches, thick and awkward and loud.
He doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. Just stays buried inside you, face hidden in your neck, like he’s hoping you’ll forget he said it.
You swallow. Your voice comes out hoarse. “…Jason.”
He tenses. Doesn’t lift his head.
You feel his heartbeat stutter against your chest.
You try again, softer. “Did you just…?”
He makes a muffled sound and finally rolls off you, collapsing onto his back beside you. He throws one arm over his eyes, the other hand scrubbing down his face.
“Fuck,” he mutters. “Fuck. Forget I said that.”
You turn on your side to face him, still catching your breath. The condom’s gone, he’d pulled out earlier in the night, but the last round? Raw. Messy. Intimate in a way you’d both pretended it wasn’t.
“You want me to forget?” you ask, voice quiet.
He doesn’t answer right away. Just lies there, chest rising and falling too fast, arm still covering his eyes like a shield.
“I didn’t mean to say it,” he says finally, rough. “It just… came out. Heat of the moment. You don’t have to... shit, you don’t have to say anything. We can go back to how it was.”
The words sound hollow, even to him.
You watch him for a long moment: the way his jaw clenches, the way his fingers flex against his thigh like he’s fighting the urge to reach for you. The way he’s trying so hard to look unbothered while his entire body screams please don’t leave.
You shift closer, rest your hand on his chest, right over his racing heart.
“Jay.”
He flinches at the softness in your voice.
You lean in, kiss the corner of his mouth gently. He exhales, shaky.
“I love you too,” you whisper.
He freezes. Completely.
His arm drops from his eyes. He stares wide-eyed and stunned at you, like you just pulled the pin on a grenade and handed it back to him.
“What?”
“I love you. I've keep it for myself. Thought we were both pretending it was casual.”
He blinks. Once. Twice.
Then his face crumples—just a little, just enough for you to see the relief underneath the shock. He reaches for you, pulls you against his chest, arms locking tight around you like he’s afraid you’ll slip away.
“Fuck,” he breathes into your hair. “Fuck. You love me.”
“Yeah,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to his collarbone. “I love you.”
He laughs. “I thought I was gonna ruin everything. Thought you’d bolt.”
You kiss his throat. “I’m not going anywhere.”
He holds you tighter, buries his face in your neck. “Good. 'Cause now I’m never letting you go.”
You stay like that (tangled, sticky, hearts hammering against each other) until the tension melts into something softer, warmer.
He kisses your temple, voice rough but steady.
“Round two? This time with feelings?”
You laugh, roll on top of him. “Only if you say it again.”
based on this request, part one of two (or three i’m not sure yet lol), mentions of blood, injuries, making out.
The dim yellow lights cast a soft glow in the silence of the kitchen that was only filled with a low volume playlist shuffling on your phone, creating a soothing ambiance.
You hummed along to the song playing through your phone as you chopped up tomatoes for the sandwich you were preparing.
You had come home from uni for the weekend (home being your brother’s two bedroom apartment), hoping to surprise said brother, forgetting momentarily that he wasn’t a normal brother and had his vigilante shit to take care of at night.
So you were greeted with an empty house and an even emptier kitchen, forcing you to fix yourself a sandwich.
You were about to tear some lettuce when you heard the window in the living room creak open and a faint thud following after. You immediately stood up straight, grabbing the nearest thing you could find –which was a wooden spatula– and prepared for the worst.
Roy would use the front door and not the window if he was coming home, meaning someone must have found where he lived and decided to break in while he was away which meant you were probably about to die very soon.
You held the spatula up and tip-toed outside, turning the corner to see a figure in the darkness of the apartment, nearly seven feet tall, wearing a black leather jacket and fitted pants with a holster around his waist –no doubt holding guns. His back was turned to you so you couldn’t see his face as you walked towards him with the stealth of a cat.
Unfortunately for you, he was quicker as he turned around when you were a mere step away and grabbed your arm with one hand, making you smack him on the head with the spatula with your free hand.
“Ow what the hell!” Said the mysterious man, loosening his grip on you and bringing his hand up to the side of his face.
You yelped and dropped the wooden spoon, turning around to run to the front door but the figure was faster than you as he closed the distance between you both in one stride and grabbed you from behind, picking you up so you couldn’t walk away.
“Let me go!” You protested, hitting his arms and kicking your feet out.
“Can you stop fucking screaming for a second!” The man yelled, walking you towards the wall where he flicked the light switch on and set you down, turning you around to face him.
“Jason?” You exclaimed, confused.
“Yes! You fucking hit me in the face,” he hissed.
“I thought you were an intruder!”
“And your choice of weapon was a wooden spoon,” he scoffed.
“Use the damn door next time,” you snapped, eyes running over his handsomely bruised face and the blood staining the side of his shirt. “Oh my god are you bleeding?” You gasped, stepping closer to his side.
He looked down and cursed lightly, sucking in a breath. “My stitches probably tore open.”
“Your what-”
“Roy patched me up and told me to come here and wait.”
“That doesn’t look okay oh my god,” you repeated.
“It’s fine,” he said in a shaky voice.
“Um come here,” you rushed towards him and grabbed his arm, walking him to the bathroom.
“I can walk,” he muttered, snatching his arm away from you.
Okay well you probably deserved that.
You sat him down on the closed toilet lid, despite his protests, saying he didn’t need your help or you for that matter but one harsh glare from you had him shutting up.
“Take off your shirt,” you ordered, grabbing the antiseptic liquid from the cabinet.
“Funny how you were adamant that I don't take off my shirt last time I saw you,” he scoffed but did as you asked.
“Shut up,” you rolled your eyes, taking the liquid in a cotton ball before leaning down to look at his sweaty abs, currently slightly red with new blood trickling from his ripped stitches.
“This might hurt,” you informed, pressing the cotton ball to the wound.
Jason hissed through his teeth in response and gripped the counter next to him, eyes squeezed shut.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered, rubbing the blood away.
“Just… be quick.”
You nodded and continued working in silence, giving him fresh stitches with practiced ease just as you had given to Roy countless times when he came home bleeding whenever you were around. You covered the stitches with wound dressing, securing multiple medical tapes around it so it could protect the stitches a bit better.
You raised to your full height and grabbed another, smaller cotton ball, pouring the liquid on it again.
Jason gave you a questioning look as you stepped closer, grabbing his jaw in your hand.
“What are you doing?” He murmured.
“You have cuts on your face too,” you informed, inspecting the cuts on his lip and cheekbone.
“It’s fine,” he retreated, shifting back.
“Don’t move,” you ordered again, hands coming up to hold his face again.
“Didn’t think you cared about what happened to my face,” Jason chided.
“It’s a very pretty face,” you whispered, dabbing the cotton on his cheekbone, making him suck in a harsh breath in pain.
“You can flirt with me, you can call me when you can’t fall asleep, you can kiss me when you have one too many drinks but you can’t go out with me. Got it,” Jason chuckled without any humour.
“Jason,” you sighed, hands dropping from his face.
You had been going back and forth with this. You and Jason have always had the type of relationship where you could flirtatiously banter with each other but it never went further than that because he was your brother’s best friend. And Roy had said all his vigilante friends, especially the Wayne family vigilante friends, especially, especially Jason Todd, were off limits. Jason knew that too so he never crossed that boundary with you.
Except for that one drunken kiss you had shared with him two weeks ago when Roy had sent him to walk you home after a night of drinking in dingy bars.
That kiss had only made your want, need for him worse.
Because you knew now how soft his lips felt against yours, how his hands rubbed up and down your back, how he nibbled on your bottom lip, how he whimpered against your mouth when you accidentally bit his lip a bit too hard, how he leaned his face down to reach you because he was just that damn tall.
That night had shifted something in your relationship because you two began talking to each other more. He began calling you at late hours when he came home from patrol and you began sending him texts throughout the day about the most mundane things.
So you couldn’t really blame Jason for wanting something more with you.
But everything had come back to the fact you were Roy’s sister and he was his best friend, they were practically brothers. You had grown up with Jason. He was at your house every day for years before you finally left for college and stopped seeing him.
With a sigh, you tidied up the bathroom and went back out in the living room, helping Jason sit down on the couch. You handed him Roy’s clothes and eyed him as he contorted his face in a scowl because it hurt to raise his arms to put the hoodie on but of course Jason being Jason refused your help.
“Do you want a sandwich?” You asked, fidgeting with your fingers.
“Sure,” he mumbled and followed you into the kitchen.
You began working on another sandwich as he leaned back on the counter next to you, watching your every move with a sharp gaze.
“M’sorry,” he sighed, breaking the silence between you.
“For what?” You smiled, grabbing a knife to cut the crusts off your sandwich.
“What I said earlier,” he shook his head. “What are you doing?” he frowned watching the crust coming off your sandwich.
“I don’t like the crust,” you replied with a little shrug.
“You’re a grown adult, you know that right?”
“I just don’t like it,” you pouted. “My mom used to always cut them off, I still hate it. I can’t eat toast or sandwiches if they have a crust.”
“Huh,” Jason noted like he was saving the information and hopped on the counter completely, sitting back and grabbing the sandwich that you handed to him.
You sat down on the island opposite of him and nudged his bare foot with yours playfully.
“I’m sorry too, I shouldn’t have kissed you,” you apologised earnestly, taking a bite out of your sandwich.
“I’m not, I’d have done it if you didn’t,” he shrugged casually like he hadn’t just made your breath get caught in your throat.
“Oh,” you breathed out.
Silence fell over you after that but it wasn’t an uncomfortable one, like before. You cleaned up the kitchen and washed the dishes while Jason sat on the counter, looking at you with those painfully blue eyes that could practically melt you on the spot.
Roy came home soon after that and was pleasantly surprised to see you. He told Jason to crash on his couch for the night despite Jason’s protests and chants of “I’m fine.”
Roy ushered you in the spare bedroom –where you always stayed when you came over. He stood outside your door until you got settled inside and turned your lights off before he made his way to the living room to give Jason a warning glare.
Sister. Off limits. He mouthed to Jason, tossing a spare blanket and pillow at him before retreating into his bedroom.
-
You stayed in your bed, tossing and turning for hours with thoughts about a certain boy with blue eyes and black hair with the prettiest white curls that almost created the shape of a heart clouding your brain.
You thought about how defeated he had looked when you were patching him up and he had made that comment.
It was almost painful because you wanted more with him too. Of course you did, you didn’t know exactly when it happened but for years now, you were hiding your crush on Jason Todd from everyone, especially yourself.
And the fact that he made no effort to hide his attraction towards you just made you feel worse.
But you knew you couldn’t do that to your brother. He hadn’t even told you that he himself was a vigilante until you were about to leave for college just to keep you away from this lifestyle so even the thought of you and Jason being together would make him blow a blood vessel.
You couldn’t do that to him. You only had each other and if he wanted this one thing from you, you could sacrifice your feelings towards Jason for that.
You let out a deep breath and got up from the bed, making your way to the kitchen.
You told yourself that it was because you were thirsty and NOT because you wanted to make sure Jason was sleeping comfortably on the couch.
In the dark hallway, you padded over to the living room, the only light coming in was from the little crack under the front door from the corridor outside and glanced at Jason’s sleeping form for a second, letting out a relieved breath before making your way towards the kitchen.
You filled a glass of water without turning the lights on and gulped it down, putting the glass in the sink.
When you turned around, Jason was standing in the doorway.
You jumped at his sudden appearance and put your hand to your chest. “God you scared me!” You whisper yelled.
“Why are you awake?” He asked, ignoring you.
“Couldn’t sleep,” you shrugged.
“Yeah? Me either,” he sighed, stepping closer to you.
“Are you in pain? Do you need a painkiller?” You asked, already on your way to the bathroom but he grabbed your wrist and pulled you back, making you stand inches away from him.
“I’m fine,” he smiled. “You’re cute when you’re worried about me.”
“Is that why you showed up bleeding and bruised?” You retorted.
“It was worth it,” he shrugged.
You slapped his chest lightly and rolled your eyes, pretending to humour him when your mind was still fixated on the grip he had on your wrist.
“You should’ve gone to the batcave or something. I doubt my stitches will hold,” you said quickly, trying to change the subject.
“Maybe,” he nodded. “But Alfred doesn’t look nearly as hot as you do in shorts.”
“Jason,” you scowled, pulling away from him and pulling your silk shorts down.
“Relax,” he chuckled, reaching for you again.
You closed your eyes as you felt him brush the loose strands of hair off your face and tuck them behind your ear, palm still lingering. You sighed and nuzzled into his warm hand, thinking of nothing but you and Jason in the moment.
“This is wrong,” you murmured, opening your eyes but not making any effort to pull away.
“Mhmm,” Jason hummed in agreement, bringing his face closer to yours so the tip of your nose touched his.
“We shouldn’t do this,” you whispered, eyes going down at his full lips.
“Mhmm,” he hummed again before finally pressing his lips against yours.
You let your body melt into him the second his plush lips touched yours, goosebumps rising on your bare shoulders. He hummed softly before wrapping both his arms around your waist and molding his lips against yours in a way like he was made to kiss you.
He rubbed circles on the exposed part of your waist as he continued kissing you like it was the last time he would get to do so.
You brought your hands in his hair, gripping the strands and trying desperately to ignore the warning ringing in your voice telling you that your brother was in the next room.
You whimpered against his mouth as he bit your bottom lip, smoothing it over with his tongue. But it was enough to make you snap out of your daze as you pulled away, resting your forehead against his chin.
“I’m sorry,” you apologised. “I’m gonna go to bed.”
“Yeah me too,” he gulped, rubbing your back one last time before straightening you up.
“Good night Jason,” you sighed and made your way inside your bedroom, not even waiting for his reply.
HII this was so fun to write omg i spent way too long on it hope you enjoy! <3
I think a good lot of Tim and Damian's animosity is performative. Neither want to be seen as giving in or want the other to be seen as the "better" man. But in reality, they actually enjoy each other's company, have similar interests and hang out. But if you ask them?
Dick: Hey, Dami, Bruce said you were in here watching Planet Earth and I was wondering-
Damian: *sat in front of the tv*
Tim: *sat on the sofa*
Damian, launching himself at Tim: IT'S MY HOUR FOR THE TV, YOU KNEW THIS, YOU CREATURE
Also Damian, whispering: Are we still on for Batburger later?
billy taking steve to a gay club for the first time and steve going ‘since when was this a gay bar’ and billys like ‘…….since always’ and steves says ‘fuck no wonder i got so many free drinks last time’
On the rooftop when Steve was telling the gang that his current partner Kristen 'might be the one' my sis responded, "Kristen? That's a weird way to pronounce Billy."
And yes it was stupid and funny, but what if when Billy survived Starcourt he and Steve started to get closer and then hook up, and they're like SO IN LOVE with Billy, but Billy's super not ready for people to know so they have been on the down low for ages. And everyone thinks Steve is dating all these different girls cause he just thinks of a new cover name every couple of weeks when it's around the time that Robin or Dustin would be interested in actually meeting the girl he's been spending so much time with.
"Oh Jessica and I are done. It's Kristen now" etc. And for ages nobody questions it, but then Vecna's stupid ass tries to end the world and Steve nearly dies right in front of Billy's salad and he's so pissed about it that he chews Steve out and then kisses him right in front of everyone.
Max (who wouldn't get vecna'd on Billy's watch period) is so vindicated, meanwhile Dustin is so flabbergasted.
"Wait, what the fuck was that? What is happening?"
Max, "oh you haven't met Kristen?"
Robin knew the entire time and is just glad she doesn't have to remember the names of Steve's fake girlfriends anymore.
This picture drives me crazy cuz billy would be at the exact right height to get his nose kissed by steve 🥰
Anytime billy starts getting huffy about something Steve just goes in with a little boop kiss to the tip of billys nose and billys mad about his rant being interrupted for like 2 seconds before he’s like “😠… do it again”
They had a Camaro parked outside Hawkins High. I am totally normal about this.
Steve, admiring the Camaro outside the school office before stepping inside and walking into the staff room: "Good morning, Mrs Roberston."
Mrs Roberstson, standing by the coffee machine with a guy who has the most spectacular ass Steve has ever seen: "Good morning, Steve. Oh, I got your memo about needing an extra pair of hands for your Wednesday Sex Ed classes. Wiliam here offered his services. He started today, he's our new Head of English."
