angels ও roses

𝒔𝒉𝒆/𝒉𝒆𝒓 — 𝟏𝟗

[rosaeh]

𝒎𝒚 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒅𝒐𝒎 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒂 𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔 𝒖𝒑𝒐𝒏 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅𝒆𝒓

ও rose — she/her — 19

masterlist ⭑ my favs ⭑ my guilty pleasures ⭑ yapping about jason ⭑ ask me !

𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒎𝒚 𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒍𝒂𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒆𝒓

[waltzingphantoms]

messing with the beat of my heart being jason todd’s warm up weight at the gym playing | cool cat- queen

“Jay, is the fucking AC in this hell of a place broken or is it just its natural flames from the rage of these gym bros?” were the first words you uttered after finishing your first set at your boyfriend’s new gym.

Your sweetheart of a boyfriend had convinced you to finally go try out the new gym he joined recently instead of going to the training area in the manor, just to have some change in his routine. Now that you lived together, the latter option is a bit too far away to make the drive in the early mornings when he likes to go to enjoy the silence and quiet of both the place and his mind.

The issue came not because you were unathletic or hated the gym or were embarrassed to train with him, but rather because you loved the one you were going to. All women, completely reasonable prices and fancy guided classes available for everyone without paying more. That offer in Gotham is incredibly tempting, plus, you had made friends already there.

His insistence started the other day, when he was doing some pushups shirtless in the middle of the living room before he went to shower. To tease him a bit, you got near the too-muscular back and pushed down with your socked foot as he moved up and down in rhythm with his breathing, trying to mess with the beat. He stopped when his chest was down and looked up at you as he came up.

“Are you trying something or...” he questioned you with an arch in his brow.

“Just seeing if you manage to keep up with that tempo if you can deal with more weight than yours” you looked down mischievously. Expecting some resistance, you were surprised when he stood in his knees and wrangled you behind him, wrapping your arms against his torso to lay you down across his back and resuming his task.

“Sweetheart, “he said without a single sign of struggling, “if you think this is hard for me, you should see the weights I move at the gym. You are, not to be corny, genuinely like a feather”. Turns out, he not only could do pushups with a bit of weight from your legs, but he could do 50 easily with your whole body on top of his.

And that actually piqued your interest. So, when he offered to come one day to the gym with him just to have fun with each other and bullshit some exercises, you accepted without a doubt. Not every day you see the hunk of a man that your lovely boyfriend is move multiples of your body weight like it’s nothing.

And so, you had finished your warmup for a simple and easy leg day when the heat got unbearable and you turned to him to complain and saw him stacking plates like a maniac on a bench press. Questioning the integrity of the bar to manage the ridiculous weight, you got closer with very much curiosity to see him do the exercise.

Once he finished placing the plate he was carrying, he turned to you and stared at your reaction to the weight on the bar. Amused at the situation, he ignored your question and mumbled “you though the other day I’d struggle with your weight” with a chuckle at the end. “Matter of fact,” he continued, “how much do you weight? Wait, I actually don’t care, I could use you as my warmup weight right now”.

A bit dizzy at his natural confidence, you tried to reason jokingly that he probably couldn’t use you for the exercise, when he just came up to you, picked you up and carried you over to the bench he was set up. He placed his hands in your chest and lower abdomen where he knew he wouldn’t hurt you and just pulled you over his chest, moving you up and down with embarrassing ease.

“And you doubted I couldn’t carry you properly the other day after dinner when your feet hurt” he mumbled in between reps. With a perfect form, he kept going until he seemed content enough with your expression and he deemed the warmup to be complete.

Lowering you down gently to avoid getting hit on the bench, you grabbed onto the bar as you stumbled out of his grip and his hand lowered to your back as you regained composure. The completely innocent gesture had left you tomato red, comically blushing like a cartoon, and instead of making fun of you as others would have done, he laughed softly before pulling you into his chest for a quick hug.

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head while your mumbling muffled itself by his wide, muscular chest and he pushed you apart just as softly as he drew you near. Now feeling more composed but still heavily attracted to your boyfriend, you stood nearby as he began his series, telling you to spot him even if he knew didn’t need it in any way, shape or form.

When he finished, you kissed his cheek before telling him that you’d keep going with your own workout, and as you began to set up for the hip thrust, he spoke across the empty gym “Jesus fucking christ, and you were saying that I lifted heavy? How much do you have loaded up there? I’m telling Damian that if he messes with my books again, he can deal with you, holy shit”.

Laughing at his antics, you kept doing your exercises without a rush in the world, visiting each other’s stations in between sets to try out the weird machines in the corners of the gym.

a/n: a lil something something to make up the mess from yesterday’s chapter; this story was inspired by the time I saw a girl in my gym with an incredible fit lifting a shit ton and when she finished her set, the buffest guy came over and kissed her cheek

[fairsexynasty]

⁺₊⋆ 𖤓 ⋆⁺₊ MRS. ROBINSON // neighbor!jason todd x milf!reader

˚˖𓍢ִ໋❀˙ summary: you're so fucked. you shouldn't be debating ending your relationship with your neighbor jason, who's seven years your junior... who babysits your daughter. yet, here you are, fighting the urge to call him over. ˚˖𓍢ִ໋❀˙ tags: MDNI, oneshot (?), fluff, smut (p in v sex, fem receiving oral, vaginal fingering, handjobs, switch!reader and jason, softdom leaning!reader, sub leaning!jason, tit sucking, breeding kink, slight praise kink, doggy style, jason todd mommy kink) reader has a seven-year-old daughter and is a single mom, reader and jason have a seven-year age gap (22-29), not canon compliant, canon divergence, batfam have stable relationships with each other, jason being great with kids, high school drama teacher!reader, NOT BETA’D/PROOFREAD ˚˖𓍢ִ໋❀˙ author's note: hey :D i don’t know if i like this. it took me too long. but it's done! ˚˖𓍢ִ໋❀˙ word count: 10.5k

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

It’s a sick thing. Every mother has her worst fears regarding how she'll fail as a mother. They fester beneath the surface, waiting to reveal themselves until the worst possible moment, the moment you let your guard completely down. When you finally think you're safe or content, the moments you plan to cherish are ruined in seconds flat. There’s no more worrying about becoming a bad mother. You’ve become a cougar. What specifics would grant a woman the title, you're not entirely sure. Does it count if there’s only been one... well, you wouldn’t exactly call it an incident. A happy accident, perhaps. But that’s also what you say about your daughter, Mia.

Tonight, Mia is at her first-ever sleepover- she’s been rattling endlessly about how excited she is to have her ‘very first sleepover’ with her ‘very best friend’, and she ran right out of your arms when you had dropped her off at her friend’s house. You’re sitting on the couch wrapped in a K-Pop Demon Hunters blanket, courtesy of Mia, with your knees tucked into your chest. The television plays Real Housewives of Salt Lake City in the background, and your second glass of chardonnay sits half-empty. It’s Friday night, and you would typically be having a better time, but you’ve been stuck with an aching feeling in your gut for the past few hours. You know she’s just excited to experience something new and true to girlhood, that her little six-year-old brain isn’t quite ready to become independent from her mother, but you can’t help but feel like she’s growing up quicker than you can process it. That feeling has unfortunately tainted other aspects of your life you’ve been kicking yourself over, like the issue that glares back at you in straining blue light. You can’t quite peel your eyes away, despite the static page you stare at.

Jason Todd Monday, 8:48 PM

hi

i can admit that tonight made things pretty fucking weird

it’s not that big of a deal to me, but i’m sorry and i understand if you need time Read

You suddenly feel yourself starting to regret pouring that second glass of chardonnay, because suddenly, you find yourself typing a response after almost four whole days of ignoring him. Well, more like avoiding him. Deeply embarrassing on your part, the lack of maturity was a lapse you wish would never happen again. You hoped the issue would go away, as if you could snap your fingers and Jason would be out of your life, and all guilt would be absolved. But it isn’t that simple, nor would the consequences be, and now you just want to smash your head into a wall.

You Friday, 7:32 PM

Hey

Are you available right now? Mia’s at a sleepover tonight Delivered

You bite your lip, nails tapping at your phone case as the uneasy feeling in your gut coaxes more anxiety out of you. But you should know better. Within thirty seconds of the text, the ‘delivered’ label turns into a ‘read’, and the typing bubble immediately pops up.

Jason Todd Friday, 7:33 PM

yeah

be over in a sec Delivered

A sigh of relief escapes you as the screen lights up with your thumbs-up sticker. Putting your phone down, you shift your attention back to the television, grabbing your wine glass as you watch The Housewives witness a Greek tragedy play based on themselves. But what the hell are you sighing for? You can't be thirty with a situationship. You need to sort this shit out.

--

The dynamic of your relationship with Jason is something out of a rom-com. In the beginning, he was just your super-cute, Gotham-bred, brand-new next-door neighbor.

Jason moved into his apartment in the middle of hot, sweltering July with a pair of crutches and a broken leg. You knew the moment you heard a gaggle of voices and shuffling in the apartment next door that somebody was finally moving into the neighboring unit; it had been empty ever since your old neighbors decided to move out and into a nice house in the suburbs, following their wedding and subsequent pregnancy. Lucky them.

You opened your front door and stuck your head out to catch people moving boxes into the unit. The door accidentally closed behind them, and all that was left was Jason. Both of you froze. He stared. You blinked.

You blinked, and with every one came a snapshot, a new way of seeing him, every time. The curly black locks tangled up with a brush of ivory. A scar on his brow, a scar on his neck, a couple on his jaw, and a lengthy one on his cheek. He felt straight out of a book-- but you weren't sure what the story was.

Thankfully, your daydreaming was interrupted as Mia ran out of the apartment in an ambush and shouted, “Mommy, what’s all that!?”—at the same time, a little girl ran out next door and shouted—“Jay! Which room is your bedroom?”

Your eyes softened in silent appreciation at the sight of Mia, your shoulders dropping. Curls bouncing, Mia stuck her head out the door and saw the other little girl next to her uncle. She pointed to her with an inquisitive look. “Are you my new neighbor?”

The little girl shook her head no. “Uh-uh, Jason is. But he doesn’t have any kids because he doesn’t have a girlfriend or wife. Or boyfriend.”

Jason’s cheeks flushed red in embarrassment as he leaned over to his niece and whispered in a strained but hushed voice. “Lian, we don’t share personal information with people we don’t know.”

You attempted to stifle your laugh, but your amusement was cut short by your daughter. “That’s okay, my mommy doesn’t have a girlfriend or boyfriend either. And she calls my daddy a shithead.”

“Mia!” Both of the girls began to giggle at your horrified expression. You didn’t mind the fact that Mia called her dad a shithead--he is, which is why he fucked off to nowhere when Mia was two-- but you felt you were being humiliated by children who laughed at your inability to compose yourself. “I’m so sorry, we can get out of your hair, I was just curious—“

“Don’t worry ‘bout it,” Jason interrupted. His fingers combed through his hair. “Nice to meet you, ladies. Jason.” He propped himself up on his crutches and stuck a hand out for you to hold. You cringed as your hand met his a little more enthusiastically than planned.

Strong hands. Rough and strong, you thought to yourself. Wondering about his occupation in the back of your mind, you continued on with introductions, “And this is my daughter, Mia.”

Swaying on her heels in the doorway, Mia waved to Jason with a shy smile on her face, her cheeks slightly warm from laughter. “Hi, Mr. Jason. I hope you really like your apartment and you make it look all nice and cool.”

“I’ll do what I can, but these ain’t gonna help.” He knocked his knuckle against one of his crutches.

Mia's eyes darted to his cast, taking in the plaster that spanned from his thigh to his ankle. She pursed her lips. “What happened to your leg?”

Jason swayed his head for a moment, like he was trying to edit out minor details before settling on an appropriate story for Mia. “I got into a car accident. Doc says I’ll be cleared in a couple of weeks, though. ’S why we always make sure to wear our seatbelts, yeah?” Jason’s eyes crinkled at Mia, eliciting a shy tug of a smile at her lips.

A little hand tugged at the end of your shirt. You leant down to Mia’s height, and she cupped her hands over your ear, whispering quietly so Jason couldn’t hear her question. You smiled in response. “That’s for you to ask him, sweetheart.”

Jason’s brows perked up at the sound of a question. Mia began to hide behind your legs, shy to ask her question of her new neighbor. “Mr. Jason, could I sign your cast?”

Jason opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by Lian, who jumped and burst out, “YES! You can put it right next to my name! Let her sign it, Jay! Please?” She shook his arm as she begged and buzzed with excitement.

With a chuckle, Jason resigned, against not much opposition, and said, “Of course you can, kid. Got any markers on ya?”

“Yeah! Mommy got me sparkly markers last week!” Mia ran inside your apartment to retrieve said pack of markers— you bought them for her after she had been expressing an interest in art and drawing. Little sketches and pictures hang up on your fridge inside, all signed with her name in uppercase.

She came back quickly, markers in hand, walked up to Jason and held out the pack to him. “Which color is your favorite?”

Jason thought for a second, crossed his arms and smiled. “Definitely red.”

Mia’s eyes widened and lit up in response. “Oh my gosh. We have the same favorite color!”

“That's because only the coolest people in the world love red.” Jason lowered his hand so Mia could high-five him in celebration.

Your heart warmed in your chest. He seemed like a sweet guy and a nice neighbor. You admired the way he connected with Mia so easily despite just meeting her, which meant that he was pretty good with kids. It was an admirable trait. A trait that came in handy when you needed an emergency babysitter.

Jason’s weeks of recovery were interrupted by you, drowning in work and responsibility, unable to hold the load by yourself. It wasn’t like you didn’t have a babysitter for Mia, you knew your schedule as a teacher and you knew you’d have to find someone who could watch her for the time you and your students had after school rehearsal. Unfortunately for you, the college girl who had been Mia’s babysitter for the last year and a half accepted a job offer across the country in Star City, which meant you were stuck finding an emergency babysitter.

When you knocked on Jason’s door, you saw the situation as a favor, something you’d pay him back for and it would be a one and done situation. You had been helping him out the last couple of weeks with groceries he couldn't carry, shelves he couldn’t extend to reach. It was no issue to you, he was hurt and you’d do anything to help out a neighbor-- besides, watching a child is a whole different story, takes a whole different skillset than carrying groceries and reaching for items.

He agreed immediately, expressing his appreciation for the little favors and tasks you had aided him with over the past few weeks, gratitude evident in his face. Mia was buzzing in her place, eager to spend time with Jason, her new neighbor who bought a pack of Blow Pops just to give to her.

After you heard a ‘come in!’ from beyond his door, you entered Jason’s apartment to find Mia and Jason sitting at his dining table, sharing chocolate chip cookies with cardboard princess crowns on their heads. The two of them were drawing together, markers spread out across Jason's dining table. Mia’s eyes shifted your way, and she called out a distracted, “Hi, mommy,” before she returned her attention to her drawing.

You shook your head with a laugh, walked over to her and Jason and took a seat at the table next to her. Brushing her hair from her face, you gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Hey, bug. You had a nice time with Jason?”

Mia nodded as she reached for her cookie and took a big bite out of it before speaking. “We’re drawing now,” she spoke with her mouth full. You’d remember to remind her of her manners later.

“Drawing, huh? I wasn’t aware you were also an artist, Jay?” You joked as you saw a dragon on Jason’s paper that looked like something a child drew blindfolded.

You blushed as he shrugged and flashed a shy smile. “I’ve had a couple lessons here and there from my brother, and now this little Van Gogh right here, right Mia?” He sent a silly wink to her and she giggled in response.

Mia picked up her picture and held it out to you, a big old grin on her face. “Look! I drew me as a princess and Jay is a princess too and we’re riding on a big dragon! Do you like my dragon, mommy?”

“Oh, I love your dragon! It’s so awesome, sweetheart!” The dragon was red, courtesy of Jason and Mia’s favorite color, and was breathing purple fire from its mouth. Inspired choices.

“We were playing princess and the dragon today, which turned into princess teatime, which eventually turned into art lessons. A busy afternoon was had,” Jason said. He watched Mia finish up the last details on her drawing with a smile on his face, and your heart warmed.

“Mommy?”

“Yeah, bug?”

“Can Jason be my new babysitter?” Mia looked at Jason, her face suddenly serious, eyes wide. “She can pay you with her big girl money. She has a lot of big girl money.”

You scrunched your brows in a panic. “No, she doesn’t. But she does have some for a babysitter, yes,” you looked at Jason and your shoulders tightened. You felt bad asking him knowing he was already facing inconveniences. With a shrug, you asked, “If that’s something you would be interested in? It’s totally fine if you can’t--”

“I’ll do it.” He responded, as if he was as certain as ever. With a smile on his face, he leaned over to ruffle Mia’s hair. “Besides, who’s gonna teach me how to be the next Picasso?”

From there on, Jason would watch Mia during the week while you had rehearsals for your school’s production of Little Shop of Horrors. Directing a high school play was demanding, but unlike other directors you actually had a soul, so Jason would never have to watch Mia past seven o’clock until hell week came. She raved on and on to you about weekday dinner with Jason.

Now, Jason was a fantastic babysitter. There was no doubt about that. He would sometimes bake with Mia when they had enough time together or indulge her in all of her playtime ideas, but once his leg finally healed and his cast came off, he and Mia were going on adventures together.

One day, they went to the aquarium together, which left you with a kid full of marine science facts loaded in her arsenal of a brain for the rest of the week. Another day, they went to go see a movie together and Mia picked up Jason’s habit of adding M&M’s to his popcorn. Some nights, Jason would come over to join you and Mia for dinner once you got home, and on other nights, he roped Mia into making a nice dinner for you.

And these are all wonderful things. Deeply wonderful things. But they started making you second-guess yourself. They started… the issue.

Because the thing about a man doing these things for a single mom, going above and beyond to make her life easier, is an extremely sexy thing.

You want to blame it on the craze that comes from the lack of a significant other, the constant urge to find someone to share the load and your heart with, the celibacy-- the obvious lack of a father figure for Mia. But you can’t excuse the things you’ve already done.

It started with lingering touches and wandering eyes.

It was getting warmer in Gotham, spring was fading into the gentle greeting of summertime. Jason had been babysitting Mia for a few months, and had been your neighbor for almost a year. You invited him to come with you and Mia up to the boardwalk on the shore, about an hour-and-a-half north of Gotham.

He walked into your apartment that morning with a smile and a backpack of items for you, Mia, and himself. Almost like a dad’s typical go-bag. Among the items were sunscreen for everyone, snacks packed for you since he knew you'd worry about Mia, and a first aid kit in case anything happened. Jason himself was dressed in a short-sleeved shirt and a pair of cargo shorts that showed off those scars you never found yourself asking about. The sun brought out a litter of freckles that dusted his shoulders and nose.

As he walked into the living room, he caught sight of you slinking out of your bedroom. You were wearing a short-sleeved button-up shirt that was more low-cut than your usual teacher attire. His eyes were locked in on the curve of your bust peeking from the neckline, as if they were to say, Hi, Jason! We exist! You turned the corner to walk into the bathroom, mindlessly calling out, “Hey, Jay!”

Cursing himself, he turned away quickly, a warm flush creeping up his body. “Hey,” he greeted meekly, lips spread into a thin line, “Morning.”

In the bathroom, you studied your reflection in the mirror. You had caught him looking from the corner of your eye. No one had looked at you like that for a long while, especially when you were out with your daughter, and you failed to consider it becoming any kind of reality. It hadn't been an intentional move to bait him into anything.

You wouldn’t. You wouldn’t mess this up for her. For you. You couldn't take advantage of the relationship you and Jason had to fulfill your own selfish wants and needs. But you couldn’t help but feel curious. You couldn’t help but wonder if this was just a one-time occurrence: if it was just the nature of Jason being a young man who also had his own desires and turn-ons. But there was also the possibility of Jason genuinely being attracted to you, which only piqued your curiosity.

You hated what-ifs. So you wanted to figure it out.

That day, the three of you spent an exciting, jam-packed day at the boardwalk. You had all spent some time at the beach, swimming along the light blue waves and under the scorching sun. You withheld yourself from stealing glances at Jason for too long, but he was delicious eye candy. On the boardwalk, Mia and Jason attempted most of the games, earning her a couple of stuffed animals to bring home. Mia was cuddling Pikachu in her sleep within the first twelve minutes of the drive back.

The next day, you invited Jason over to Sunday night dinner. The gathering wasn't anything out of the blue; in fact, Jason had been coming over for dinner about half the nights of the month, and vice versa. However, the energy in the air had shifted by now. You were giving in to some of your... curiosities.

“Hi, Jay!” You heard Mia greet the second the door opened. She ran to Jason with her arms out and open for a hug, and he scooped her up onto his hip.

“Well, hello to you too, princess,” he placed a kiss upon her head. “How has your day been, sweetheart?”

“It was good! Mommy and I did puzzles together, and then we went to the grocery store and she let me get all the stuff and put it in the cart, and then we made the fancy fries with potatoes.”

“Oh, really?” he asked, walking the two of them into the kitchen where your back was turned as you stood at the stove. A brow arched— he noticed you were wearing a tank top. “How did those fancy fries turn out?”

You turned around from the stove, and Jason was met with a braless you, standing there in a thin-ass tank top. To anyone normal, you just looked like a mom cooking in a hot kitchen on a hot day, but to Jason, you looked like sex on fire. This was by far one of the more revealing outfits you had worn around him, besides that one time you went out clubbing for your sister's birthday, and he babysat Mia. Smudged eyeliner, ripped tights, messy lipstick--

“--They’re turning out pretty well as far as I can tell,” Your eyes seemed to glimmer at him, but Jason wasn’t sure if he was just making things up. He already felt insane, having to clear his throat in the subtlest way possible. “Wanna try one?” You asked, holding up a fry.

Mia nodded her head quickly. “Yes! They’re sooo yummy! I helped cut them.”

Jason gave a tight smile, warring with the thoughts in his head dismantling the defenses he oh-so-carefully built upon meeting you, his hot MILF neighbor who was sweet on him and whose daughter he babysat. Get it together, Jason.

“Yeah, I’d love to,” he agreed. What he didn’t expect was for you to waltz over to him and feed it to him. You tapped his chin, and he opened his mouth, his eyes staring at you as you quickly popped it in his mouth and lifted his jaw shut.

“Good?” you asked once he began to slowly chew.

He awkwardly nodded back in agreement. Once he finished, he turned to Mia in a hurry. With a swift clap, he asked, “How about we get the dinner table set up for your mom, yeah?”

Squeezing out a bright smile, Mia nodded her head. “Okay!”

As the two of them began to grab plates and utensils, you turned back to the stove and cringed at yourself. You'd be lying to yourself if you said you weren;t going to make a move. You were too far gone for this to be some innocent 'research.'

--

The rest of dinner was spent listening to Mia gab on-and-on about her playtime adventures. Jason, who was usually as talkative as Mia was, had barely anything to say. In fact, he spent most of the dinner refusing to look up at you and establish eye contact, which was strange considering he was sitting right across from you, eating the delicious dinner you made for him. If you had to guess, it was probably because he couldn’t look at you without having to fight the urge to let his pupils fall down, down down...

As soon as everyone was finished eating, Jason immediately hopped up from his seat and offered to do the dishes while actively walking away to do said dishes. That meant that you were free to get Mia ready for bed, which you proceeded to do a bit quicker than usual. As you were putting on her pajamas, she asked you if Jason would read her a bedtime story, which, of course, he would. When Mia was finally done brushing her teeth, she greeted you goodnight and skipped to her bedroom holding Pikachu, shouting, “Jay Jay! Bedtime story, please!”

You went to your room to get ready. Not for bed, but for the rest of the night. You typically liked to chill on the couch with a glass of wine to wind down for the night. While you picked your own set of pajamas, the thought of Jason lingered in the back of your head-- perhaps due to the fact that you could hear him narrating Alice in Wonderland from down the hallway.

As your eyes scanned your dresser, you caught a pair of low-cut black shorts you used to wear to bed back when you had people sleeping in your bed. You grabbed a shoulder-cropped T-shirt and changed clothes with a small smirk on your face.

When Mia was comfortably asleep in her bed, Jason finally came back out to the living room. You were on the couch, legs stretching out as you leaned on your side, a glass of red wine in your hand.

Jason mentally cursed himself. Relax. She’s just settling down for the night.

“How was she?”

“She was great; she settled in pretty quickly. Read around two chapters tonight.

“That’s nice.”

“Yeah, it is,” he smiled as he put his hands in his jean pockets. He shifted his weight around for a moment until he began to speak again, “Hey, uh, thanks for dinner and everything tonight. I think I’m gonna—“

“—Would you like to stay for a bit?” Your satiny voice cut through the deluge of excuses that ran through Jason’s head. “I can pour you a glass if you’d like. You drink Malbec?”

Trying to find his bearings, Jason took a deep breath. “Uh, yeah. I’d like that.”

You gave him a small smile as you stood up to grab his own glass, and he took a seat on the couch across from the side you were just draped against. His heart was beating like a hummingbird in a cage. Was that sweat on his brow? Did it get warmer? He took his clammy hands out of his pockets and quickly rubbed the sweat off on his jeans. You returned promptly with a glass for him and a smile still on your face.

“This is nice,” you commented as you returned to your spot on the couch. “The two of us. Chilling. We’ve never done this, no?”

With a sniff, Jason tried to pass off nonchalance. “Uh, yeah, we haven’t. S’ cool.”

“Cool?” You questioned, your brow arching.

Jason sputtered. “No, I’m sorry, I just mean-”

You cut him off with a sickly sweet laugh, the tone of your voice immediately bringing Jason out of his spiral into embarrassment. “Jason, sweetie, there’s no need to worry about it,” you soothe, placing a hand onto his shoulder. The sloped collar of your shirt that hung off your shoulder slightly fell to tease a view of the curve of your breasts to Jason, leaving him with a deep feeling at the pit of his stomach and an unwelcome feeling that began to creep up onto him: perversion.

In that moment, he wanted you to mount him, strip your shirt off, and let him get his mouth on those gorgeous fucking tits of yours. He wanted to drown in them, let you suffocate him as he hungrily sucked and mouthed at your tits, worshipping you the way you deserved.

His thoughts were interrupted by you slowly moving closer to him on the couch. “Listen, Jason,” you purred, voice trickling into his ear like honey. Your hand on his shoulder readjusted, the tips of your fingers gently caressing his skin. “I just wanted to really thank you for everything you’ve done for Mia and I over the last few months. You’ve just been so amazing to us, especially to Mia. I mean, she absolutely adores you.”

Jason’s lips tugged up in a smile. “Really?”

“Absolutely. I also just really appreciate everything you’ve done for us. You’re kind… you’re thoughtful… you’re attentive.” Your lashes fluttered as your eyes met his with a soft glimmer. “You’ve just been… so good to me, Jason.”

In that moment, Jason knows he’s truly fucked. There are two reasons for that: you’ve officially caught on to his crush on you, and he was on your couch, the most bricked up he’d ever been in his life.

The wine glass in his hand was held with a tight fist. His cock was strained through his jeans, the large imprint of a bulge the most obvious sight in the room, almost impossible to miss. Your eyes were still glued to his face. He was entirely red, from his chest to the tips of his ears. His weak attempt at preserving any semblance of coolness was almost adorable.

He tried to talk, but his voice caught in his throat and came out cracked. On his second try, he bit out, “Fuck, ‘m sorry.”

You brought the hand on his shoulder to his cheek. His eyes quickly darted away from your own, landing on the rug on your floor. “What are you apologizing for, hon?” Jason cleared his throat, shooting a quick glance at the tent in his pants. Your eyes widened. “You’re apologizing for this?”

Jason nodded in shame, his head bowed. “You’re basically my boss! I know it’s gotta be a sick fucking thing, the way you’re always on my mind, and when I close my eyes, I—” he confessed.

“Jay, honey, look at me.” He lifted his head and peered at you through black and white strands. You gave him a pitiful look and brushed your thumb back and forth against his cheek. “For how long?”

As hard as he tried to keep his composure, he sniffled, a pathetic and pained look on his face. “Always.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

Had Jason really been attracted to you the whole time? Were you missing the signs along the way that spelled it out before it became so obvious? Or was he just saying this to sugar you up? You would fuck him, he’d get a bonus, and eventually ditch you.

Jason seemed to notice how you were getting caught in your head, and he reached up to hold your hand that was against his cheek. His thumb gently caressed the inside of your wrist. “You okay?”

You blinked, slowly coming back to your senses. There was no reason for you to ruin this moment. You had Jason practically in your lap, soft as a pile of putty, with a blush on his face and a soft look in his eyes.

“Of course,” you replied. “I’m just happy to know you feel the same way I do.”

Jason’s eyes lit up, and a smile broke out on his features. “Yeah?” He asked, as if he couldn’t believe it until he had direct confirmation.

“Absolutely. I thought I was crazy for trying this!”

The man let out a relieved sigh, his eyes trailing to your lips as you beamed at him. He attempted to adjust his position on the couch in an attempt to face you fully, but an almost-whimper escaped him as his previously forgotten hard-on strained against the fabric of his jeans.

“Oh, fuck,” he groaned.

His desperation elicited a soft hum from you. “Sweet boy,” you whispered gently. You took the wine glass from his hand and placed it down onto the coffee table in front of you. Reaching for his hand, you stood up from the couch. “How about we head to my room, yeah?”

He gave an eager nod and immediately rose to his feet, his hand latching onto yours in a gentle hold. The two of you shuffled into your bedroom, and you closed the door behind you as quietly as possible as Jason stood in the middle of the room. The air in the room shifted as you turned around and walked up to Jason. His breath hitched as you held his hands in yours.

“Jason.”

“Hm?”

“As much as I’d love to get the full experience, my kid is two doors down the hall, so we need to keep it down low.”

His lips curved into that familiar bashful grin of his. “I’ll be as quiet as a church mouse,” he joked. His eyes trailed to your lips; your mouth had quirked up into a doting smile. “Now, can I please kiss you?”

“Of course, honey.”

With your permission, Jason’s hands came up and gently held your face in his palms before he slowly leaned in. The kiss started off a bit hesitant, as if both of you couldn’t believe the situation you were in. But Jason was there, with you, holding your face in his hands and kissing you like it was something he never deserved. But he did, and you wanted nothing more than to prove it to him.

One of your hands snaked up his back and to the nape of his neck, where your fingers immediately found purchase in his soft black locks. Your other hand came up to Jason’s waist and gave you the leverage you needed to pull him closer into you and deepen your kiss. You swiped your tongue across Jason’s lips, and they parted instantly, giving you access to his warm mouth. He was slowly but surely moving the two of you backwards, the slowly-building passion of your kiss rendering him absolutely weak, and soon enough the two of you found yourselves falling backwards onto your plush bed.

Jason’s hands were stuck on your face, so you took one of them and guided it to your waist, breaking apart from the kiss quickly to say, “You can touch me anywhere you want to, Jay.”

His eyes widened, and he let out a quiet exhale and nodded in response. Soon after, his lips chased after yours to kiss you again. As he kissed you again, this time slower and sweeter, he tried to memorize the way you tasted on his tongue. With the desire to explore you, his hands had begun to caress and paw at your body, squeezing at your curves and searching for your warmth.

As he explored your mouth, his hands maneuvered you on top of him, so you were straddling his waist as your kisses deepened. Refusing to break away from the kiss, you tugged Jason’s bottom lip in between your teeth, pulling a needy little gasp from his lips. He wiggled around beneath you, his cock heavy and pulsing in his jeans, trying to do anything but grind up into you fully. Your lips trailed down to his neck, tongue dragging the veins under his heated skin.

A smile crept up on your face as you began to give playful nips to his neck. Your cool breath tickled his skin as your teeth caught on the junction by his shoulder, your hands slowly creeping under his shirt. His abdomen was warm and soft under your touch, and he shivered slightly at the feeling of fingertips ghosting over his skin.

“Could you take this off for me?” you asked, tugging at his shirt. Jason complied, quickly ridding himself of his top to reveal a scarred but beautiful torso he had. Your eyes quickly trailed to what looked like an autopsy scar that spanned the length of his chest. Jason watched your face for any traces of judgement, but found nothing. Instead, you looked him dead in the eyes and said, “I want to eat you like a fucking popsicle.”

It wasn’t long until Jason’s pants were stripped, and soon his underwear, with your clothing landing on the floor not long afterwards. You sat in his lap, the two of you sharing languid, hungry kisses as Jason’s hips began to rut up into yours, his hard-on finally receiving attention after being ignored for so long. Your heats met with dizzying friction, wetness seeping from your clothed cunt and dampening the fabric beneath it.

With every thrust of his hips, Jason let out a soft moan, the pleasure leaving him buzzing. You whined as the head of his cock brushed against your lace-covered clit and his right thumb brushed over your nipple, sending a lightning strike of arousal into your core, leaving you gasping for more. “Fuck, Jay.”

“Yeah, ma?” Jason breathed out. His right thumb brushed over your nipple, sending a sharp feeling of pleasure down into your core, leaving you gasping for more. “S’okay if I taste you for a sec? Need to see how sweet that pussy tastes.”

His words sent a chill up your spine, and you shivered in anticipation. “Do whatever you want,” you breathed out.

His smile broke into a grin, and he got off the bed to stand at the edge, grabbing your legs and pulling you his way. You watched as he sank to his knees, his hands finding purchase on your thighs as his knees met the floor. Hands slipping under your panties, he began to slowly slide them down your legs, until they were fully off and he threw them across the room. You watched as his pupils dilated at the sight of your pussy. His jaw dropped, mouth watering.

He wrapped his arms around your thighs, bringing your heat closer to his mouth. Starry-eyed, he flattened his tongue against your clit, lapping at the bundle of nerves, eager to draw out your slick juices. You began to lose yourself in the pleasure, your hips jerking up to meet his mouth. You find yourself trying to memorize the way he grips your hips: how his fingers dig into the fat of your hips, soft enough to not bruise, but firm enough to handle you.

The sound of Jason beginning to slurp and messily lap at your weeping hole began to fill the room. He wasn’t being quiet enough. You found your fingers tugging at the back of his head, latching onto his curly locks and tugging him into your cunt to muffle his noises. Jason let out a groan in response, his hips bucking into the side of the plush mattress.

You whimpered as you felt his finger begin to tease your hole, slowly but surely pumping in and out of your plush and soaked folds. Once the length of his digit was fully sheathed in you, he added another, then crooked his fingers slightly upwards, eliciting a sharp gasp from your lips.

He pulled his mouth away from your pussy. “Shh, ma. We gotta be quiet, remember?” You whined in response, your hips chasing after his mouth.

Your fingers curled into the sheets as Jason’s lips wrapped around your clit, softly humming in relief as he sucked on the bundle of nerves. He added a third finger alongside the previous two, and you fluttered at the stretch of your pussy. Your head lolled to the side as you felt your orgasm begin to approach, eyes rolling into the back of your head, the more Jason’s nose bumped into your clit as his tongue met his fingers at your sopping hole.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, baby,” you strained out, hips wriggling in the hold of Jason’s arm. The fingers inside you got deeper, quicker, and Jason’s bicep flexed as he curved his fingers within you. You felt the sharp knife of heated pleasure encroaching, until it finally cut at the rope of tension and you fell into your orgasm.

You came with a wrecked whimper, a result of a poorly suppressed moan, and Jason continuously lapped at your wetness, his fingers, mouth, and nose completely drenched in slick. He cleaned you up until your thighs began to spasm from overstimulation, weak little whines pulled from your lips.

Jason got up from the ground and back onto the bed with you. His eyes pinned on you in frozen devotion. You smirked, deciding to straddle his lap again. Jason looked absolutely disheveled-- pre-cum pooling on his stomach, with silky strings of pearls that formed each time his cock twitched in anticipation. Your breath caught at the look within his eyes. How could he ever maintain his composure around you now that you’ve had his fingers in your cunt?

“Jason.”

“Mhm?”

“Feeling okay?”

He blinked slowly. “M’ fine. I just--” he paused completely for a moment. Your fingertips tapped lightly over the freckles adoring his flesh, the raised scars amassed from whatever past he’d left behind. With a clearing of his throat, he regained his bearings and met your gaze, his lips pursing into a shy smile. “I’ve wanted to feel you like this for so long,” he admits.

With a heated hand, you cupped his face and brought it closer to yours. His lips brushed against yours, feather-light. “I hope it’s everything you ever wanted,” you whispered in a low tone.

He let out a needy little gasp the second your hand made contact with his weeping cock. You lifted your hips, eyes refusing to leave Jason’s as you lined up his cock with your weeping slit and began to sink down. His cock slowly entered your warmth, his hips stuttering as a whimper was forced from his throat. He watched your lids drop into a hooded expression as you began to realize how much he was struggling with your tightness around him. You let out a chuckle. “You good, honey?”

Jason choked out a moan, his voice straining as pleasure began to consume him whole. You began a slow grind on his cock, deliberately dragging your cunt over his tip for longer before slamming down onto his length, no warning. “You’re just… you’re so fuckin’ tight, ma,” his voice trembled, nails digging crescents into his thighs.

“There’s no reason for you to hold back, baby,” you comment after catching him trying to resist. He looked downright sinful: his curls sticking to dewy skin, misted emerald eyes that seemed to only beg for more, and greedy, possessive marks you left behind, tattered on his skin to become tomorrow’s problem. He looked absolutely divine. You were so fucked.

You began to pick up the pace of your hips, and Jason squirmed in delight as you milked more and more of his length with your cunt, dropping until he was fully buried to the hilt. Jason gasped, head thrown back in ecstasy.

“C’mon, Jay,” you purred against his ear. “Show me how much you’ve been wanting this…”

“Fuck, okay, okay.”

When the high was over, you went down with a slow slump onto Jason’s chest. You were almost heaving as you attempted to catch your breath. Jason rolled both of you over, and a groan left you as he slowly pulled out of you.

“Oh, messy girl—” he cooed. There was a pool of cum where you and Jason were connected, slowly seeping from your hole and onto your thighs and ass. “—I’ll get you cleaned up, sweetheart.” He moved away, the warmth of his body disappearing, but you felt his arms lay you down against the pillows, adjusting you to be as comfortable as possible.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it.” He pressed a kiss to your shoulder before standing up and swiping a washcloth from your dresser drawer.

How he knew where those were, you don’t know. Had he been around you enough that he finally knew where all your things were? Or had he been tracking that from the start, out of consideration? Fuck, was Mia about to wake up and discover Jason still in your apartment? Would you have to sneak him out of the apartment before she woke up? Would he even be staying?

Before you could spiral more, Jason came back into the bedroom with a damp washcloth and a glass of water. Your questions went unanswered as he softly wiped at the mess in between your thighs, leaving soft kisses on your face in between. You kept your thoughts to yourself as he helped you get dressed for the night, tucked you in, and turned off the light. You didn’t bat an eye when you felt him get under the covers next to you, or when he kissed you goodnight.

You weren’t sure what it would turn into, this thing between Jason and you. But what you did know, when it was an hour later, the sheets had been tousled about, and Jason Todd’s body was lax in your arms, warm breath against your chest, was that you were sure you loved this man. He knew you better than anyone else, and you’d officially reached the point of your relationship where you wanted him more than you had ever anticipated. And it scared you.

Perhaps that fear was always a warning. A last call from the universe to scare you off a path labeled ‘danger.’ But you turned a blind eye for the first few weeks.

Following your and Jason’s hushed-sexy night tryst, the two of you began a relationship. There weren’t any proper labels, and it was anything but a situationship, but it was still a relationship. Kisses were snuck around corners and behind couches. Late nights called for secret meetings and a sneaky baby monitor placed outside of a doorway. You unfortunately just hadn’t had the time to go on a date yet, or be in each other’s space without having to worry about Mia. Even worse, it was nearing the end of semester, show week, and overall, tech rehearsals.

For a high schooler, theater productions were zero-sum games. Despite sharing a passion with your students for the stage, you failed to comprehend why life was so serious to them at such a young age. No matter how hard you tried to drill in the fact that theater was supposed to be fun to your students, they always found ways to stress themselves out and exhaust themselves. You just prayed to god this year no one would get mono.

You walked into the auditorium following teaching your eighth-period intro class, and immediately upon arrival, you spotted five different students on their first energy drink of the night, and another handful finishing their coffee from the day. You waltzed down to the apron to leave your things at your director’s chair. From your peripheral vision, you could spot your head of set design already on a mission to discuss something with you, judging from the way he marched over to you with a purpose, a familiar stress in his jaw and practiced maturity in his green eyes.

“Miss, I need to discuss the upcoming--”

“Damian, I just got here; if it can wait five minutes, that would be much appreciated.”

“Of course.”

Damian Wayne was one of your brightest students. You had only arrived at Gotham Academy three years prior, so you were still getting acclimated to the wants and needs of your students and their overbearing parents. The first day Damian was in your Performance Production class, you had asked him why he selected your course for his elective. You remember him replying, It’s the one thing I haven’t done. From there on, you knew you’d enjoy teaching him throughout the semester.

But one semester turned quickly into another, and once you’d come back from winter break, he was already on the spring production sign-up sheet for production, sending you a curt nod as he left his signature. Soon enough, Damian was on set design, then head of set design, and you enjoyed seeing him work with fellow classmates he once had never spoken to, under a shared goal of success.

After taking a lengthy chug from your water bottle, you sat down in your chair. Relief. Letting out a small sigh, you turned back to Damian, who was waiting patiently and quietly for you to get settled.

“Alright, kid. What's up?”

Damian crossed his hands behind his back, a solid tell that he was feeling anxious but unable to show it. “Regarding the upcoming parent-teacher conference, I must let you know that Father will not be in attendance, for he has business in the city that day.”

“Ah, I see,” you responded, an understanding nod sent your student’s way. Your head tilted slightly. “Your mother won’t be joining us next Monday?”

Damian’s lips quivered into a small smirk. “She and Father got into a disagreement over the way she pressed you last year. She isn’t allowed to question any of my teachers again.”

Letting out a laugh in response, you shook your head, the memory a fond one of yours. “I really didn’t think she meant to offend me. She seems like a lovely woman, but she’s very… passionate… about your education.” You remember the way Bruce Wayne sat in your classroom, head in his hands as Talia Al-Ghul drilled you on your knowledge of various performance histories.

You watched as Damian’s hands dropped back to his sides, the tension in his body slightly dissipating. “Well, anyway, I wished to inform you of that. If the circumstances change, I’ll be sure to let you know.”

“Thank you, Damian.”

“No problem, ma’am.”

You hadn’t thought anything of that conversation. Damian wasn’t anything other than a student of yours. But that Monday couldn’t come any faster. In fact, it felt like you closed your eyes Friday night and woke up on Monday afternoon.

The night had been objectively going well-- none of the parents had yelled at you or blatantly disrespected you yet. Most of your students were performing well, especially within your senior capstone class. Those students were in the middle of directing and starring in each other’s limited productions, ones they would perform at the end of the year separate from the drama club production.

Damian had decided that he wanted to direct a production of True West, a slightly absurd play with an ungodly amount of toasters. He seemed to be having fun directing his friends and also putting his best food forward in productions he was acting in. You were slightly upset you wouldn’t be able to share his successes with his father, but you knew he’d receive love and support from him nonetheless. In fact, Bruce and Damian were supposed to be your last pairing of the night, but in anticipation of getting to leave early, you had already begun to pack your things up, when--

“Wait!”

You looked up to see Damian standing in the doorway.

“Hey, kid. I thought you weren’t coming tonight?”

“I wasn’t, but apparently Father decided to send one of my brothers tonight to represent him,” he scoffed quickly. “A stupid decision, nonetheless.”

“Oh, wonderful! Well, where’s this brother of yours?”

Damian sighed, taking a quick peek down the hall. He turned back to you. “One moment,” he announced, his pointer finger in the air, before leaning out the door and shouting, “TODD!”

You snorted, both at Damian yelling at his brother and at the fact that Damian’s brother seemed to be named Todd, which seemed like such a silly name for a Wayne boy.

“Knock it off, I’m here now— the fuck?” Your eyes widened at the man standing in your doorway. The same man who had been inside you just the night before. The same man who not only left early morning to avoid awkward questions with Mia, but took the time to make breakfast before he left.

“Jason?” You sputtered.

From across, Damian’s eyebrows furrowed. “Todd? How does she recognize you?”

The look on Jason’s face was priceless. He turned to his brother in a panic, his typical reserved nature completely out of the window. “The hell is she doing here?”

“I am his teacher—” The two brothers turned to look at you now, their angry staring contest put on pause. “—and neither of you will refer to me like I’m not in the room. Jason, please, explain?”

Instead, his eyes darted away from yours as he shoved his hands in his pockets. Oh. Perhaps he was finally feeling the embarrassment that came with dating you. You frowned. Damian cleared his throat. “Father adopted him many years prior to my arrival. There are three others,” His eyes narrowed at Jason, before muttering, “Cassandra is the better of all of you.”

You held a darting glare at Jason, standing there, curled in on himself. Yes, you were blindsided and slightly upset, but you had to maintain some kind of composure. A question suddenly hit you. “Your last name isn’t Wayne.”

Jason’s face twisted into a pained grimace, too many emotions quickly washing over him before he found any words. He bit his lip. “It… it technically is. But it’s—” Pausing, his expression faltered as your face fell in embarrassment, disappointment, awkwardness, or whatever negative feeling it was that you were feeling within the moment. “—hard to explain…”

“Jesus…," you muttered to yourself. “I mean, this has to be some kind of ethical violation, or something—”

“May I ask what is the matter?” Damian interjected, his hand raised in the air. “I do not understand what is causing such tension between you tw— oh… no.”

One slow blink was shared with each other, then at Damian, who was slowly going through all seven stages of grief upon realizing that his teacher and his brother had been involved with one another.

“I see.” He took a step back. “I shall leave you to it.” He turned on his heel and walked away, leaving you and Jason in the room with a mountain of space between you. The two of you remained frozen, unbearable disbelief grounding you to the earth until Jason finally speaks up, a stark difference to when Damian was in the room.

“Please, ma, I need you to listen to me—”

You raised a shaky hand, cutting him off. You looked off to the side, avoiding his eyes, your own glistening with uncomfortable tears. “I need to get home. You should get him home, too.”

And with that, you grabbed your bags and pushed past Jason, walking off to your car to return home for the night.

But now, you’re here. On your couch. Chugging your second glass of wine before Jason arrives. You gulp the alcohol down quickly, almost shamefully, before setting your glass down onto the coffee table. Not even a second later, a resounding knock is heard from the front door, and you find yourself clinging to the couch and shouting, “Come in!” instead of letting him in like a normal person.

Jason enters the apartment, eyes scanning around for you. He slips his shoes off by the door as usual, hanging his jacket on the coat rack before shuffling over to you.

You feel your lips tighten as your eyes meet for the first time since Monday night. All you’ve dreamt about since then has been him. Little things around the apartment like the labels on your spices, the shoes lined up neatly at the door, and a working bathroom door hinge have all reminded you of him. Reminded you of the short distance between you from both sides of your shared wall.

You can’t help but feel absolutely horrible. Some semblance of a guilty apology starts to form in your mouth, but before you can spit it out, Jason’s already on his knees in front of you.

"I don’t know why I never told you; guess it just slipped my mind in the end.”

“Jason.”

“—And I’ll make it up to you, baby, I swear—”

“Jason...”

“—If you want me to fuck off, I can, I just—”

“—Jason!”

Gently, you take Jason’s face in your hands. Your thumb skims over the scar on his cheek, soft freckles at his cheekbones, the plumpness of his lips, and you take in his beauty. The little things that make him Jason. That seems to completely disarm him for a moment, shock covering his features before realizing you aren’t bullshitting him, his shoulders tensing. “Wait, seriously? I didn’t piss you off?”

“I overreacted,” you reassure him, pulling him into a much-needed hug. Melting into you, his body relaxes as your fingers card through his curls. “I should be apologizing to you for making assumptions.”

Jason pulls away from the hug, hands on your shoulders so he can get a good look at you, a puzzled look on his face. “‘About what?” he asks, incredulous.

“Well, you know. You’re young. You should be at the club, or whatever. If you didn’t want to be with me or it embarrassed you, I’d understand why. I’m inconvenient to be with.” Eyebrows scrunching tight, Jason looks at you, his head tilting as if you have three heads. “What?”

“Bullshit.” You scoff in response, but Jason doesn’t seem to want to hear it. “Bull. Shit. Do you know how fucking lucky I am? Nothing is inconvenient when it’s with you.”

You melt, “Jay…”

One of his arms rests atop your thigh, the other on your hip. Head bowed, you take in the pout on his face and tears brimming in his eyes. “Please,” he begs, soft and desperate. Nuzzling his face into your thighs, he lets a couple of tears fall. Jason seems to relax as he nuzzles at your soft skin. He takes a deep inhale of your natural scent, closing his eyes in satisfaction before looking back up at you. “I’m all yours,” he breathes into you. A kiss to the skin below. “All yours, ma.”

Dropping your hand, you take Jason’s face into your palm. “You mean it?” you question.

Jason responds with twinkling eyes and a soft nod. “More than anything,” he places another soft kiss on the inside of your thigh, which turns into another, and then another, until he’s kissing up your thigh.

He wastes no time in ridding you of your shirt. His calloused hands paw at your breasts, fingers finding your nipples and rolling them around, watching as you squirm in pleasure. He pinches and pulls at your nipples, gently teasing them to a peak, before leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to the inner curve of your breast.

“So soft,” he murmurs, lips brushing against your warm skin. Diving back in, Jason presses a kiss to your other breast, much like the other one, then proceeds to give an experimental flick of his tongue against your nipple.

With a sharp breath, you feel the wetness pool between your thighs, leaving you hungry for more. Jason begins to lap at your breast, spit-slicked and hungry, and your fingers take rein in his curls.

Jason moans in response, his hips digging into the couch as you tug and tug at his hair, only breaking away from your tit to pay mind to the other. Plump lips swell as they latch on and suck, kiss, and suck at your breast, strings of pearlescent string connecting the two of you. Head falling backwards into the arm of the couch, back arching up into Jason, you let out sharp, needy little gasps.

“Baby, please— I need to feel you.” Your eyes are half-lidded and dark. Jason’s twinkle back at you from your chest, keeping your gaze in an unrelenting hold as he flicks at your nipple with his tongue again.

“Mhm,” he moans. “Anything,” Lick. “For you,” Lick.

He finally pulls away from your tits, mouth covered with spit and his lips red and swollen from the attack on your breasts, and he’s never looked more divine. You cup his face with your hand, whispering a simple, “C’mere,” before he leans in compliance and meets your lips for a kiss— this time, languid and warm.

Jason’s unraveled you into a complete, pining mess, leaving you feeling like the lovesick girl you once were and, at the same time, a woman who’s got something entirely new and good in her life, no stipulations. He pulls away with a shy smile on his face. “What was that for?”

You kiss the tip of his nose. “I’m keeping you forever,” you reply.

Jason lets out a hum in response and noses at the column of your throat, heat spreading over his cheeks. “And I’ll stay forever,” he echoes. “Now can I get these off, please?” He tugs at your sleep shorts, fingers jumping beneath the fabric to lightly snap it against your hips.

“So impatient,” you quip as you lift your hips.

The two of you are quick to undress, mere days far too long a time to be separated from one another. Eyes darken with maddening hunger as both of you take in the other’s current state, a certain electricity in the air between you, passing in between short, staggered breaths.

His lips chase after yours as he teases the tips of his fingers against your folds, spreading the slick around your cunt, feeling it warm underneath his touch. You swallow him down, coaxing a broken groan from his chest, the sound reverberating against your chest from his, your hearts beating together under the rumble. Manicured fingers tug at the hair at the back of Jason’s neck, soft tufts of curls grounding you as he slips two fingers inside your sopping cunt, a result of his steady, teasing ministrations. Jason hums in delight as he curves his fingers against your velvety walls, pulling a moan out of you. You twist and turn as he plays with you, spreading your slick around and slowly but surely working his digits further into your cunt.

Sex with Jason feels like the first drink of a crisp, cool Coke after walking in the desert for years. It feels like all the cacti you’ve encountered, the heavy lifting and distances you’ve traveled, the sights you’ve seen and bullshit you’ve dealt with, are worth it when he’s got you with your legs by your head, bullying his cock into your cunt.

The two of you have moved from the living room to your bedroom upon realizing that the couch wasn’t the most comfortable place to have passionate makeup sex. Your bedframe creaks and scratches at your wall with every thrust of Jason’s hips. He swallows you down with his gaze; sweat brews at his brow and nose as he rolls his hips into yours.

Brows pinched together, your head falls back as the blunt head of his cock hits a particularly sensitive spot against your spongy walls, your cunt squelching in response. You attempt to arch up into it, trying to target Jason’s thrusts against the sweet spot, but it doesn’t work out.

All of a sudden, you feel Jason’s hands on your hips. With one quick move, you’re belly down on the bed with Jason’s cock buried further inside you. His lips brush against the shell of your ear. “S’ that what you wanted, ma?”

“Mhm,” you whine out, voice straining as Jason lifts your hips so your ass is flush to his hips as he milks your heat with his length, the tip once more meeting your most sensitive spots.

Jason leans into you fully, his bodyweight against you, tucking his face into your neck. “So tight,” he croaks. His thrusts are frantic and deep as you’re held in his embrace. You raise your ass up just a hair, and a groan leaves Jason. “You trying to make me fill you up already? Hm? Want me to make you a mommy again?”

“Yes, yes, please, baby—“ Taking hold of your plush hips once more, Jason ruts deep into you, fervently burying his cock into your cunt over and over again. His thrusts settle into a deep, relentless rhythm, cock dragging across your velvety walls at a dragging pace. “Fuck!” You pant, feeling the breath knocked out of you. You bring your hand down to rub at your clit, feeling yourself involuntarily clenching around Jason’s fat cock, pistoning in and out of your pussy. As you rub tight little circles into the bundle of nerves, you feel your orgasm begin to approach.

Jason turns your face to the side and kisses you messily, strings of spit in between your mouths as his tongue licks and teases at the cavern of your mouth. He only pulls away when he feels you clench and spasm around him again, your pussy squeezing the base of his cock in a vice grip. “Fuck, mommy, you gonna cum?” You nod frantically in response, feeling your abdomen tense as lightning rods of pleasure shot through you.

At this point, Jason is fully panting and trembling with every thrust. You arch further back. “Don’t hold back,” you beg. “M’ gonna cum—“ The second he feels you clench tight around him, the walls immediately burst, and he finds himself bullying his cock into your core as he comes inside you with a hoarse groan, his face buried in the heat of your neck. The sheer force of Jason’s release is enough to trigger your own, and you find yourself coming with a ragged cry, unable to suppress your volume from overwhelming pleasure.

Jason topples over, pulling you into his chest. You tremble as his cock pulses inside of you, his ropes of cum slowly spilling from your cunt. The two of you are blissed out, sharing deep breaths as you catch up with your bodies. You feel little kisses being peppered onto your head. “Feeling good, ma?”

Nodding, your eyes speak for you, drooping lower and lower the longer Jason holds you in his arms. You realize that this is what life is supposed to feel like with a man, that life as a mother can fit someone else to come into the picture-- as long as they're right and they work for you. And you're damn sure that Jason works for you.

"I feel amazing," you answer. "Fantastic. The best, even. I'm not joking when I say I'm keeping you forever."

Jason drops a kiss onto your lips. "Do I get a bed?" he quips playfully.

You’re about to speak when your phone suddenly rings. The caller ID reads the name of Mia's friend's mother.

You pick up on the second ring. “Hello?” Jason watches as your furrowed brows slowly relax as the person on the other end speaks. You end the call quickly after.

“What’s up?”

“I have to get Mia. Someone got sick, so the kids are being sent home to avoid getting sick themselves.”

Jason shakes his head. “No, no,” he places a hand on your naked shoulder. “How about I start you a bath, then I can pick her up while you get yourself cleaned up?”

You still, a smile and blush growing on your face as you look at Jason, who’s got the most serious and determined look on his face. Your heart warms at the sight. Leaning in to kiss him, you announce, “We’ll go get her together.”

[amelietaime]

art by @hotpinklaces !!

lacy reminder

𝜗ৎ your boyfriend loves using your panties as bookmarks

𑣲⋆｡˚ fluff, suggestive but no smut

Pink, blue, black…

You huffed as you rummaged through the same drawer for the third time, hoping what you were looking for would magically appear between the mess of cotton, polyester, and lace.

The bedroom was a complete mess; drawers drawn open, half-empty because you’d carelessly thrown their contents out trying to find the piece, some bras landed on the floor, some shirts on your velvet vanity stool, and there was a pile of skirts and dresses forming atop of the bed.

Your eyes scanned the room again, trying to catch even the slightest glimpse of the intense, scarlet red you were desperately trying to find.

Your reflection stared back at you from the mirror—hair styled to perfection, black dress hugging your figure, and your lips painted a deep red color that was supposed to match the lingerie you’re wearing under the dress.

You had the bra, the only thing missing were the panties.

It was a special night, your two-year anniversary with your boyfriend, and Jason—who always makes it clear he’s not a fan of lavish and over-the-top dates—had surprised you with a reservation at this fancy steakhouse in downtown Gotham with a rooftop lounge that overlooks the city and has live jazz music playing the whole night.

You wanted to surprise him back, wearing the delicate, red, lacy lingerie set you know is his favorite, so that at the end of the night—in the backseat of the car, on the couch in the living room, or wherever he decided he wanted to take you—, you could feel his breath hitch and watch him lick his lips as he undressed you.

Besides, as stupid as it sounds, that set holds some type of sentimental value.

You bought it over a year ago, it’s a high-end designer piece that caught your eye the moment you stepped into that luxurious, ridiculously expensive boutique. It cost you an arm and a leg—you remember contemplating if it really was worth going broke for as the saleswoman talked about the quality of the materials.

You decided to buy it before you could think too much about it, swiping your card through the terminal and almost wincing when you saw the money deducted from your bank account.

It was more for Jason than for you anyway, and that’s what convinced you. It was a few days until his birthday, and you wanted to wear it as one of the many gifts you planned on giving him.

That night, straddling his lap as he laid on the couch, you saw his pupils dilate, watched him suck in a deep breath and pull his bottom lip between his teeth as he took off your dress. You decided that it had been completely worth the money.

It’s also the only set that’s made it through more than three wears—since Jason seems to have a kink for ripping fabric off of you, but apparently he’s decided he likes this one so much that he can be a little more careful with it. He almost always asks you to keep it on as he fucks you.

You really didn’t want to—it was supposed to be a surprise—but after checking the clock and seeing it was almost time to leave the apartment, you stepped out of the bedroom and into the living room to ask the only other person who could have any idea where your panties were.

“Jason, have you seen—”

Well…

There was your answer.

Jason sat on the couch, legs spread as they always are—no matter how much you scold him for his manspreading—, wearing a burgundy dress shirt that had you impatient thinking about the moment when you finally get to unbutton it.

His gaze was focused on the book perched on his lap, and in the gutter of said book—between thin, black ink-stained pages—were your panties, their red color bright against the yellowed paper.

You simply sighed, it was your fault honestly.

You started it a few months ago, Jason had taken a night off patrol and vigilante duty, and Cass had kindly offered to cover for him—watching over Crime Alley and the other places he usually took care of so he could spend time with you.

It was almost 2:00 a.m., your cheek was pressed against his bicep—because there’s nothing you love more than resting your head on your boyfriend’s muscles—, your legs shifted beneath the sheets to tangle with his, the soft cotton felt cool against your flushed skin.

Jason’s left hand was busy playing with your hair, twirling the strands around his scarred fingers while his right held the book he was reading.

He’d made you orgasm more times than you could count in a single night and you were convinced that you were completely satisfied.

Until you teared your eyes away from the ceiling to look at him, and he looked so cute and hot and sexy with his drugstore glasses perched on his crooked nose, and his brows had that furrow of concentration, and his thick lashes fluttered as he read through whatever greek tragedy he was so focused on, and his pretty lips formed the cutest pout you’ve ever seen on someone.

The sight made you feel that familiar heat between your legs—the one that appears whenever you see Jason doing practically anything.

You peppered kisses on his naked, glistening chest—still covered with a thin layer of sweat—, your fingers tracing down the lines of his abs and his prominent V-line until they reached the hem of the sheet—the only thing covering his lower body.

Jason breathed out your name, his heartbeat sped up under the touch of your lips, and he tried telling you about how he was in a really interesting part of the book, attempting to convince you to wait—but he didn’t make any real effort to stop you.

You looked up at him through your lashes, tongue darting out to trace one of the scars on his chest. You told him you couldn’t wait—and that it was his fault for making you so horny.

Picking up the pair of baby pink panties he’d tossed somewhere on the floor when he slipped them off of you, you took the book from his hand and placed the lacy garment on the page he was reading before closing it and handing it back to him. Your eyes never left his as you did so, and you had to bite your lip to hold back your giggles.

Jason’s eyes were wide as he took the book from you, his expression completely dumbfounded, and you swear that’s the most adorable he’s ever looked.

For you, Jason’s a weak, weak man. He could never deny you anything—trust, he’s tried.

And after that, you didn’t need to do anything else to convince him. He simply placed the book back on the nightstand beside the bed and rolled his eyes.

“You’re insane,” he scoffed, “and insatiable.”

You didn’t bother trying to defend yourself, it was true after all. You simply smiled in victory as your hand slid under the sheets.

Since that night, you never saw that pair of panties again—a shame, truly, it was a beautiful pink—and a few more disappeared from your underwear drawer to be found in the bookshelves.

“Jason,” you sighed. “I’ve been looking for those panties for like an hour!”

Jason looked up from his book—a dystopian novel you forgot the name of—, smirking when he caught sight of you with your arms crossed, wearing the dress he’d bought you specifically for your anniversary date.

“You look nice,” he whistled, looking you up and down shamelessly.

“Can you please give me my panties back?” You walked up to him and extended your hand out, expecting him to return your underwear.

“No,” he almost laughed, “I need my bookmarks.”

That made you roll your eyes, and before you could process it, Jason wrapped his hand around your wrist and pulled you into him so you were sitting on his lap.

“Besides,” he whispered into your ear, his voice carrying that teasing, smug tone you would never admit turns you on, “why do you need panties?”

“You know what would be a nice anniversary gift?” He continued, fingers teasing the skin of your thighs through the glossy fabric of your dress. “You not wearing anything under that dress.”

short n sexy mini fic for my baby jason todd while i work on my beach date with dick grayson one-shot 🤭

sorry if this was kinda ass, the idea was better in my head, still hope you enjoyed!!

thanks for reading!! likes, comments, follows, and reblogs are always appreciated!!

please do not copy, translate, repost, or feed my work to ai (especially this!!)

images from pinterest

dividers by @strangergraphics !!

[honeysucklewatr]

While the desperation was evident on Jason’s face, the reality of his betrayal only made your skin crawl.

Just the look of him had summoned an annoyance and discomfort so heavy that you were sure he could see it. His fingers curled around your waist and dragged you closer so he could drop his head in the crook of your neck.

“Please forgive me. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“No.” Finality in your tone. “Go away Jason.”

He whines like a dog. “I didn’t mean to do it ma. I swear it meant nothing to me.”

Sighing hard, you shove his head off of you and grab his chin. “Oh, so cheating on me meant nothing to you?”

His expression shifts and his brows lift. “I didn’t cheat on you, I just, I—I forgot.”

The scoff that came from deep in your core felt like a knife cutting through his skin. He knew he fucked up. He knew it was over for him.

Already shaking your head as his puppy eyes bore into yours. “Right, so you forgot about your girlfriend? That makes it so much better.”

Gripping onto you tighter even when you try to pull from him again, he practically turns into a puddle around you. Molding himself to your skin like this could suffice a means to your forgiveness.

“No. No. Nothing like that. How could I forget you? You’re perfect. It’s my fault. I should’ve known it could hurt you. I should’ve thought.”

A creep of satisfaction warms your skin.

You’re trying to hide your snickers as he nuzzled closer to you like he’s rubbing his scent in. Though you keep your expression still and impossibly quiet. Like you hadn’t forgiven at all when you knew deep down, you could never hate him. Not really anyway.

Nuzzling his head into your chest, he makes a sound that reeked of desperation. Pleading for you to listen to him and hear him out just one last time.

“Say something please princess?”

You hum, pretending to think. Letting a hand run through his hair while he kept still, trying to evaluate where he fell now. “Okay fine. I forgive you.”

Perking up immediately, he looks up at you with sparkles on his pretty eyes. “Really? You do?”

Taking turns looking into each of his eyes, you nod. “Course baby. Just don’t do that again, okay?”

He takes your hand from his hair and kisses the back of it. Then the knuckles and the wrist, devotion evident in his actions that it brings a smile to your face. Jason continues peppering his kisses over your skin and sighs dreamily.

“I’ll never watch our show without you again okay?”

You can’t help but smile. “Not even if I’m not home for a couple days? Not even if you see spoilers?”

Eyes tracking his movements as he stilled and leaned up to look at you. His hard chest against yours as he pulls you flush against him on the couch, kissing the side of your face and nodding vigorously. Murmuring yes, over and over again.

“You’re way more entertaining than that damn dating show.”

You blink at him. “It’s called love island.”

“More like lust island.” He scoffs. Huffing and puffing, he buries his nose in your hair and pulls you impossibly close so you couldn’t escape him now. “They’re all so messy and I was bored out of my mind without you. You know I love drama ma.”

Reaching up and ruffling his hair, you pull his head up enough to kiss his forehead.

“Yes baby, I know you like dramatics. Now you have to watch the three episodes you watched without me again.”

Jason perks up a little. “Of course. I’ll rub your feet too if you want.”

Making a face at him, you giggle. “I don’t need you to—”

He’s already pulling off you and grabbing your legs, pulling off the socks and shaking his head.

“Nope. I should pay the price of betraying you. Don’t worry about me sweets, just pretend I’m not here.” Smiling ear to ear like he’s the one getting a reward here.

He hands you the remote and you raise a brow as he starts pressing his thumb into your heel. “You’re enjoying this too much for it to be a punishment.”

He quietly shushes you and places a gentle kiss to your ankle. “Watch your show ma.”

[llovelygood]

Mr. Goodreads and Miss Letterbox || Jason Todd x reader

— Both of you just shared your love for books/films in social media, but your followers saw the potential of an amazing power couple. What happens when you find out about the ship and decides to check Jason's account?

!!: smau + a narrated part. fem!reader. not use of y/n. bookstagramer!Jason x cinephile!reader. Pictures are from Pinterest. enemies to lovers-ish (not really???)

[dc masterlist]

yourusername

liked by 101.344 people

photo dump of the last week of June 🌷 Watched Obsession yesterday. You guys know I don't usually watch horror movies in the cinema, I prefer to watch them at home, safe and cozy, but I've been hearing lot of mixed opinions about this film and I couldn't wait to finally watch it myself. I would rate it with 4 stars because it was really good and extremely disturbing. As always, you guys can find my complete review (with spoilers) in my letterboxd!! -💋

comments:

user1 Just came from reading your letterboxd review and I agree with everything you said ♥︎ liked by the author

user2 Haven't watched the movie and never will, because I hate this genre, but I loved reading your review ♥︎ liked by the author

user3 If she has a boyfriend, he either has to be another film-obsessed freak or someone who is the total opposite of her, like someone who argues the book a film is based of is way better, even if it isn't

⤷ user4 there's this guy here whose user is @/j.todd who makes content about books and I believe they were made for each other, even if they haven't met yet 🙂‍↕️ ⤷ user5 OMGGG JASON YESS THEY WOULD BE PERFECT TOGETHER ⤷ user6 now this gotta be my new favorite ship

j.todd

Liked by 412.802 people

Normal People by Sally Rooney. 3 stars. I can't deny Sally Rooney is a very talented author, and the start of the book was very powerful and entertaining. However, the ending disappointed me (complete review in my Goodreads). I can't consider Normal People a bad book, it was beautifully written and didn't feel boring, but it's not one of my favorites.

comments:

user1 Normal People is one of my top 3 favorite books but I agree with some of your points in your Goodreads review

user2 ONLY 3 STARS???

user3 love me a man who reads, is he single?

⤷ user4 get in line ⤷ user5 hope he is so he can date my beloved @/yourusername

user6 I'm finishing Normal People, but I kinda agree with you, It's a really good book, but I can't give it more than 4 stars

yourusername

liked by 98.864 people

Can you guys believe I never got to watch Wuthering Heights in theaters when the movie came out? (I still did the trend with the poster and my husband Jacob Elordi). Either way, I watched the movie yesterday night and I have a few comments on it. Over all the movie gets 3 stars and I'm being generous. I haven't read the book but the film was... something else... I have a lot of things to say about this so you guys can go read my review in letterboxd (contains spoiler) -💋

comments:

user1 I loved the movie wdym 😭😭

user2 kinda weird for you not to watch a movie the second it's out on theaters

⤷ yourusername I know right? but I was very busy when the movie came out, and when I finally got time to go watch it it had already been removed from theaters

user3 Jacob Elordi the man you are

⤷ user4 idk he gives me weird vibes

user5 I love your reviews, they are so complete and so well written ♥︎ liked by the author

user6 nah guys have you seen Jason's post? This can't be coincidence

⤷ user7 this can either be coincidence or they know each other ⤷ user8 maybe they know about the ship and are just messing around with us

user9 you should read the book

⤷ yourusername not my thing lmao

j.todd

liked by 726.997 people

Haven't had much time to read this past weeks, so I figured I could talk about a book I read a while ago, that I really enjoyed, and never posted my review here. Wuthering Heights gets five stars from me. It's impossible to sum up everything I love about this book in here, so I suggest you all to go and read my review in Goodreads. But it's darkness, and poetic story has made this book one of my ultimate favorites. P.S: I don't usually mark classics, so I just decided to post some photos I took this month.

comments:

user1 WE GOT JASON'S FACE REVEAL BEFORE GTA VI

user2 blah blah blah proper name place name backstory stuff

user3 que sí quesito que sí

user4 whatever you say handsome

user5 just here to say that @/yourusername just posted her review of the movie

⤷ user6 idc if they know each other or not, they're my parents ⤷ user7 They would be the perfect couple istg ⤷ user8 mr. Goodreads and miss letterbox, straight from a romcom ⤷ user9 they're married in my head

yourusername

liked by 101.344 people

photo dump of this week before I got sick Rewatched one of my favorite movies because I couldn't get out of bed and I'm so happy I finally get to talk to you guys about it. Dead Poets Society is my favorite movie of all time, hands down, no hesitations. A masterpiece. It's poetic, it's beautiful, it moves you and it's genuinely the only movie that has made me cry. As always you guys have my complete review in my letterboxd (with spoilers, just in case there's people that haven't watched it yet, in that case I'm so sorry). -💋

comments:

user1 get well soon queen ♥︎ liked by the author

user2 so you got sick, that's why you were so active on social media lately

⤷ yourusername I'm so bored

user3 Dead Poets Society really is THE film

user4 getting sick in July, what's in Gothams air?

⤷ yourusername the real question is: what isn't in Gotham's air? ⤷ user5 WAIT are you from Gotham??? ⤷ user6 one step closer to her and Jason meeting each other and falling in love

j.todd

liked by 611.135 people

Found the Dead Poets Society book in my local library and, since I never watched the movie and the book is short, I decided to read it. It gets 3 ½ stars. I found it quite plain and, although I think the story is moving, I'm not sure the book captured the feelings that well. Also, some of the characters were quite questionable. Either way, you guys can find my full review on Goodreads. P.S: I think I like this photo dump thing, I might keep doing it.

comments:

user1 I think the same as you Jason, now lets kiss

user2 @/yourusername and him using their post's captions like letter, they're made for each other. She sings it with a kiss, and he uses P.S.

yourusername is this the guy chat??

⤷ user3 ariana what r u doing here???? ⤷ user4 you really don't know the meaning of being nonchalant, don't you ⤷ user5 so this is the level of boredom you reach when sick

yourusername You should really watch the movie, you would rethink those 3 ½ stars you've just gave to my favorite story of all time

⤷ j.todd I don't think the movie would be much more different from the book, taking into account that the book came out after the film.

yourusername

liked by 99.056 people

Pride and Prejudice. 1 stars. Review in letterboxd. -💋

comments:

user1 okay she's mad

user2 miss ma'am are you alright?

user3 Jason and her might not be dating after all

⤷ user4 idc this has potential for a enemies to lovers ⤷ user5 I think they should kiss, that would fix everything

user6 idk what happened, but please come back and be normal

j.todd we both know that movie is not 1 star movie

⤷ yourusername have you watched it? ⤷ j.todd no, but I've read the book and I know pride and prejudice is not a 1 star story ⤷ yourusername adaptations aren't always loyal to the original source ⤷ j.todd you really are annoying ⤷ yourusername I suggest you read my review on letterboxd ⤷ j.todd I did and it only says "fuck you Jason" ⤷ yourusername fuck you Jason ⤷ user7 this is like seeing my parents divorcing again

When did you think this was a good idea? Maybe when you saw an opportunity to prove you were right about your favourite movie. That the story changed completely by watching it rather than reading it. 

You knew Jason hadn’t liked that one star you had given to Pride and Prejudice. You saw in his goodreads that it was one of his favourite books and decided to watch the movie and give it a low rating just to piss him off. Surprisingly, it worked, because he talked to you after seeing your post. 

And now, waiting for him to arrive at your house, you kept checking the time, fixing yourself, walking around—doing anything to calm yourself down—because you had invited a handsome man to your house without thinking it through first.

Of course you had stalked his account. It hadn’t been until recently that he had started posting pictures of himself, at first all of his posts were the cover of the exact book he had read and then photos of some phrases highlighted. The man was truly a romantic. He mostly read romance novels, but his favourites were the classics. 

You couldn’t help but wonder if he had checked your account too. You posted photodumps more regularly, your account was almost your online diary, so he knew how you looked.

While you were drowned in your own thoughts, Jason had arrived at your building. It was a funny coincidence that you lived in the building right across from Jason’s, and somehow you hadn’t known about each other’s existence until you decided to appear in his comments section. 

Jason swallowed hard before knocking on your door. You opened it, with your hands shaking and your heart pounding aggressively on your chest. Jason was tall—way taller than you had imagined—and he looked like he had come straight out of Fight Club. His leather jacket, a worn black cotton t-shirt, and dark jeans were a very simple outfit—but combined with his piercing greenish-blue eyes, a fading bruise near his right eye, and a white streak on his hair? That man was breathtaking. 

From Jason’s point of view you were a sight too. He had seen your posts, he knew how you looked, but in person you had a magnetic energy that no one could ignore. The only reason for him accepting your proposal, of coming to your house to watch a film, was because he found you attractive. He saw the opportunity, took it and he didn’t regret anything.

“Hi,” he said. 

His voice woke you up from your trance. You moved to the side, letting him into your apartment. 

“I’m Jason, I thought we should introduce each other properly. You have a nice house by the way.” He looked around, scanning your living room and kitchen with detail, like he wanted to find something. “You have a lot of movie posters.”

“Ah! yes. If you ask the correct people that work in the cinema they give one to you for free,” you explained, guiding Jason to your living room.

The movie was already paused on your TV, ready to be watched. Two bowls filled with buttered popcorn sat on the tea table, one for Jason and the other one for you. Once you were settled in the sofa you pressed play.

You couldn’t deny that the first few minutes of the movie were awkward. Jason sat rigid on one end of the couch, looking attentively to the TV, paying attention to everything that happened in the movie. You, on the other hand, kept drifting your gaze from the movie to Jason, to see his reaction, to make sure he liked it. 

And when the scene of the party came, you whispered: “Now look at Knox, poor boy, he didn’t do anything wrong.”

Jason looked at you, smirked, and then turned his attention back to the film. “Well yes, but he still kissed her, and she has a boyfriend,” Jason remarked.

“He kissed her on the head,” you defended.

“Still, that’s not cool and she’s unconscious, I would’ve reacted the same way Chet did.”

And that started a friendly discussion between the two of you. You never stopped talking since then, commenting on everything about the movie, Jason criticizing it—just to see your offended expression—and you refuting everything he said, like you were the director herself. And when the movie ended, you kept talking and talking, until it was past midnight and Jason got a message from someone and told you he had to leave. 

“It’s not a three star story,” you insisted, walking Jason to the front door of your house.

“Four stars,” he rated. You opened your mouth offended.

“Four and a half,” You suggested.

“I think I’ll have to watch it again to see if you’re right,” he smirked, walking out of your apartment. “Thanks for the date, it was nice.”

“It was not…” But Jason had left before he could hear what you had said. 

It might not have been a date, but you had enjoyed Jason’s company, and something inside of you told you that you were going to see each other again, very soon.

six months later

j.todd

liked by yourusername and 457.901 more

Sorry I haven't posted in a while, I've been re-reading Pride and Prejudice with my girlfriend, and she's a slow reader, but it was fun to see her reaction to everything that happens in the book. You guys already know this is my favorite book and my review has been up on Goodreads for a while, but you guys have my review of the movie in letterboxd, if you would like to read it.

comments:

user1 HES GOT A GIRLFRIEND

user2 I'm the girlfriend guys chill

user3 his girlfriend just won in life

yourusername I'm not a slow reader????? classics are hard ♥︎ liked by the author

⤷ j.todd whatever you say doll ⤷ user4 THEY'RE TOGETHER ⤷ user5 MY PARENTS ARE BACK TOGETHER ⤷ user6 this means they're now officially dating right? ⤷ user7 the ship became reality ⤷ user8 war is over

yourusername

liked by j.todd and 400.874 more

Yes, Pride and Prejudice did not deserve that 1, I'm sorry. My annoying boyfriend insisted on updating my letterbox review and on writing one in Goodreads about the book, so I forced him to download letterboxd, and he has written his very first review there!! -💋

comments:

user1 the hardlaunch is crazy

user2 they both posted the same quote 😭

user3 they're perfect

user4 which book will be your next review about?

⤷ yourusername none 😊

user5 do we get an invitation to the wedding for introducing you to each other thanks to our ship??

j.todd ❤️

⤷ yourusername don't ❤️ me, you told me you weren't coming with me to the cinema this Friday ⤷ j.todd I promise I'll make it up to you ♥︎ liked by the author ⤷ yourusername good boy ⤷ user6 he's obsessed with her

© llovelygood

Jason Todd taglist: @farahdrawzz @princesstrunkz @currentblasphemy @yukibana-fs @astraeasworld @profoundgreenturtle @andraax2 @e1ectraaheart @ilocuras24 @fluffalorianflash @sugurushairstylist @rosieposiediditagain @theworldscalamity @little-mini-me-world @missmontiopath @demonslover @timdrakesfoot @mruizsworld @whispershell @rosimmmm @geekonaleash @starrydustedwinter @jellydianetyu @vanilla-bean-18 @jt0ddlvr @adangerousbalance @wyuovvia @amourrangel @gigglingandwiggling @mattm1964 @lecoinde-dan4 @xsupermanxx2 @missmillivanilli @jmmarlo @schwi2u @k2cowgirlup @bingbongsupremacy @alixthepigeon @burningwiitches @selina0226 @xxjesshuxx @jetlag07 @onlyfeng

[rosaeh]

as both a ms letterboxd & goodreads i love this

[kentluv3r]

JASON PETER TODD: loves leather jackets. fights with a speed and fury that no one is able to replicate. spends nights in the boxing ring alone. alone but not lonely. sexy but not obnoxious.

BOXER! JASON TODD… growing up in gotham city; fighting was something jason found out at a young age. from stealing parts off cars to sell and get by, to becoming the apprentice of billionaire bruce wayne— jason makes his own name, under the nickname of “redhood” in the boxing ring.

BOXER! JASON TODD… swings with anger. who wins with relief. he likes the belts, he likes the titles, he loves the money… but he loves using fighting as a way to get his anger out. his poor ring opponents don’t know how much rage he has until he lands one right hook to their cheek.

BOXER! JASON TODD… who fucks gently. for a man as angry as him, his cock ruins you pretty gentle. he can get rough; absolutely… but when it comes to you and your pretty face and your pretty pussy; how could he ever destroy something that pretty? he worships the ground you walk on, he makes out with your clit slowly and steadily, his tongue sliding up and down your folds. he allows you to pull on his hair and slap his face and scratch his back… all while he sweet talks your fluttering cunt and cums deep inside it.

BOXER! JASON TODD… takes dates seriously. he will go into a fight sleepy if it meant your dates are extended. he will cancel practice to get you something if you’re down in the dumps. he will leave celebration parties early (or won’t even show) if you need him for even five minutes. he will spend so much money on you to prove to you that he loves every second with you. he will go to your siblings or friends to make sure the gifts he gives you are right. he’s a man in love and he won’t make a silly mistake like not loving you!

BOXER! JASON TODD… kisses you before every match as a good luck charm. in fact, his only loss of his career, coming at the hands of the up-and-coming champion, was the only fight in which you didn’t kiss him before hand… so his running theory that kissing him gives his body something to fight for? yeah. he sticks with it!

masterlist is here! click here for more!

ⓘ KENTLUV3R’S WORK. all my fanfics (not the characters) is my very own, coming from my own efforts and my time. do not copy my work, rewrite it, shove it through an ai machine and shit out slop, and don’t repost to wattpad/ao3/c.ai!

[blond3ang3l]

bsf! jason todd who fucks you after a bad date ughhhh

Going to his apartment after a disastrous date. Full on crying in his arms about how much you hate guys so much and he's just there cooing to you and wipin your tears away. When you are adamant about never dating again, he decides to show you exactly why you won't need to. Gets you into his bed and fuck you in a deep mating press, so deep it was like he was in your tummy. Your legs were on each side of his shoulder, his warm breath against your ankle. He had you locked in place under him, you couldn't run if you wanted to. It was so perfect for you. Jsson knew how bratty his dear friend could be, especially when things didn't go your way, so making you take every fucking stroke was the only way he could make you feel better.

"Don't need another man when m' here baby. I know. Feels so good right? Never knew you were this big of a crybaby. This is what friends are for. What? No. You can't do this with your other friends. This is just for me and you. Because no one else can make you cum like I can. Trust me, I know you way better than they do."

[starl1ghtgr4yson]

𑣲𝓛𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐲˚.🎀༘⋆

Jason Todd who is an absolute loverboy…

𑣲⋆LOVERBOY! JASON TODD... who completely loses all his bones the second the apartment door clicks shut. for a guy who spends his nights dodging gunfire and playing the tough guy, he turns into pure liquid muscle on your couch. he will collapse his entire upper body across your lap, burying his nose into your waist with a heavy, shuddering sigh that practically shakes his whole 220lb frame just to let the stress bleed out.

𑣲⋆LOVERBOY! JASON TODD... who is an absolute nightmare to literally everyone else in gotham, but turns into a complete marshmallow the second you’re in the room. he’ll spend his entire afternoon barkin’ orders, snapping at tim, throwing sarcastic insults at people, and scowling like he hates the entire world. but the moment you walk through the door? his whole posture softens, his jaw unclenches, and he’s pulling you onto his lap before he even finishes his sentence.

→ His family genuinely does not know how to react to seeing a guy who normally looks like he wants to punch a wall softly nuzzling his face into your hair and whispering sweet nothings like he wasn’t just screaming two minutes ago.

𑣲⋆LOVERBOY! JASON TODD... who treats you like you’re made of spun glass. he’s got massive, calloused, scarred hands, but the way he holds you is absurdly soft. he loves resting a heavy palm on the back of your neck or softly thumbing over your bottom lip while he’s distracted.

𑣲⋆LOVERBOY! JASON TODD… who is an absolute menace for press-and-hold kisses—soft, lingering presses into the crook of your elbow, your shoulder blades, and right behind your ear where he knows it makes you shiver.

𑣲⋆LOVERBOY! JASON TODD... who displays affection in the most quiet, domestic ways imaginable. he’ll spend hours sitting on the edge of the bed going on long, passionate rants about whatever classic literature he’s reading that week, his eyes lighting up while he explains every character arc to you.

→ he’ll also hand-craft custom leather bookmarks for you, carefully stamping your initials into them or burning little designs into the corner just so you have something special for your own books. he remembers every little detail about your routine—always making sure your favorite tea is stocked, pulling the covers over you when you fall asleep on the couch, and leaving tiny, messy love notes tucked into your jacket pockets before he goes out on patrol.

𑣲⋆LOVERBOY! JASON TODD... whose dates are a seamless mix of domesticity and ridiculously thoughtful effort. he’s not taking you to some uptight, five-star restaurant where he has to wear a stiff suit and fake a smile; he’d much rather take you to a tiny, hole-in-the-wall diner at 2:00 AM, sitting in a vinyl booth and sharing a plate of fries while you both talk about nothing. or he’ll plan late-night rooftop dates with a heavy fleece blanket, hot coffee in thermos cups, and a quiet view of the city skyline, keeping his arm wrapped tight around your waist so the cold wind doesn't even touch you.

𑣲⋆LOVERBOY! JASON TODD... who is a total whiny submissive for you behind closed doors. all that red hood arrogance completely evaporates the second you tease him or make him wait. if you hold back or drag your fingers along his skin without touching him where he wants, he turns into the whiniest man on the planet. he’ll bury his face in your neck, whimpering softly, pulling on your waist, and begging you to just give in.

𑣲⋆LOVERBOY! JASON TODD... who melts the second you take control. you can pin his wrists above his head—even though he could easily overpower you—and he will just go completely pliable and soft into the mattress. his eyes get dark and glassy, his breath hitched, softly pleading with you, “please... tell me what you want me to do.” he is so embarrassingly praise-hungry that running a hand through his hair and whispering a soft “good boy” against his ear will literally send him over the edge, leaving him clingy and helpless for the rest of the night.

𑣲⋆LOVERBOY! JASON TODD... takes loving you so seriously it’s almost stupid. he will send single-word replies to bruce and dick, but sends you three-paragraph rants about a book he’s reading or petty complaints about anyone other than you. he leaves his softest oversized hoodies at your place on purpose just to see you drowning in them while making coffee. he’s a man so deeply in love with you that he doesn't even know what to do with himself, and he’ll never let a second go by without making sure you know it.

A/n never falling for the “Jason is rough” propaganda. He is the most submissive, whiny, and pathetic man ever I said what I said.

Taglist: @leovaldez0924 @newangelle @pxrcyjcksons @rani1028 @maradcrs @purelypersistentribe @cecillia-stuff @sarahskywalker-amidala @starrydustedwinter @brucewayneisavirgin @idkwhattosaynowsorry @sexy-sadie-6505 @steadyclarityparadox @fireriyu

[fawnindawn]

ON THE SAME PAGE

summary: jason has no weaknesses. especially not that one bookstore keeper he visits every week. he merely needs new book recommendations, and you're the only person he's willing to trust. about the books, obviously. or jason todd falls miserably, pathetically in love with a bookstore keeper who insults him on first recommendation.

pairing: jason todd x fem! reader

You don't expect any customers tonight, not when Friday's are usually associated with activities more enthralling than a shabby bookstore that smells faintly of over-stewed tea. Your fingers itch to flip the signboard around to 'Closed', but they squeeze habitually around your mug instead. A brown rim has formed around the interior from the untouched tea left hours ago when sunlight still graced the shelves near the window seat.

Three minutes to closing, you decide to give the store the respectful grace of being a decent employee and waiting for the clock to strike eleven. At least, that's the excuse you give yourself. Your fingers tap lightly against the solid wood of the make-shift counter, a haphazardly placed desk shoved between shelves and boxes that are to be sent to the recycling center tomorrow. Your life is almost perfectly mundane.

The bell rings.

Almost, except for one sole factor. Your gaze shifts, your neck craning towards the door. Here, you thought your last visitor would finally break the pattern. It's certainly not Margery, a lady who thinks herself the most important customer to this small establishment, always inventing new cons in a skewed attempt to bargain for more free books as gifts for her many nieces and nephews.

This visitor carries a scent of smoke, broad shoulders stretching out a worn, leather jacket. Even from your skewed view, half his back turned towards you, he's gorgeous as he always is. Almost out of place, body stiff as his gaze glances past the stained glass stickers pasted onto the windows, shading the jagged line over his cheek in reds and blues. A familiar, brute tension stuffed into his posture, shadows striking his skin. Smaller, faint scars litter his jawline, and one prominent jagged line is carved into his cheek.

Your secret visitor, who brings in the scent of iron, faint bruises across his cheek on some nights, that goes by the name, Jason.

"Here I was thinking your terrorising finally came to an end." Your voice echoes, a teasing tilt laced in its croak from hours of going unused. "It's nearly closing hour, Jay."

Despite the limp that accompanies his gait, clearly wounded somewhere beneath his large frame and thick layers of clothing, his own smirk greets your gleam of teeth. "Couldn't end a shit week without a recommendation."

Your heart skips, like the quick traitor it is. You feign a casual expression, as if you didn't have his next read hidden under your stack of orders you've yet to shelf.

"Bringing in blood to the floorboards again?" You raise a brow, gaze flickering to where his boots left imprints on the scratched-up wood.

"Nah." His smirk widens, stopping before you. "Wouldn't want you making use of free labour again to mop the dust off this place."

"Wouldn't be too difficult if we didn't have to use bleach, genius."

He shrugs, looking down at you with a pleased expression. "Useful skills I teach you, all without a price, sweetheart." His voice rolls over you like thunder, a low gravel for that mocking nickname he picked out for you like you're the only person he's ever given it to.

Your neck cranes to meet his gaze. "Right, next time I need help cleaning blood trails, I'll call my favourite potential vigilante."

"Oh, so I'm a favourite now?" His brow raises.

"You're so full of yourself." Your bite holds no mark, softening in its edge when your fingers trace over his next recommendation stuffed between the stack of new donations. Dragging it out, you hold it out with held breath.

It never gets easier, the silent exchange. The anticipation, the brief few seconds of waiting as his gaze assesses your pick. It had started out exactly like this, and like some idiotic, preening teenager—you had hoped with every right choice you made, it might heighten the chances of him coming back.

This isn't a library, an establishment where he had to return to at some point. No, he could very likely purchase your selection today, decide it was absolute shit, and never return. Yet, he always came back, and you began to lean on the crutch of a belief that he would continue to.

"Call it a profitable relationship." You joke, even as your heartbeat faintly thuds in the pads of your fingertips, digging into the spine of the copy you reserved for him.

He takes it, fingers brushing over yours. That lingering second of contact feels intentional, but the ghost of his touch disappears before you even have the chance to register its searing warmth.

His smirk dials down into something softer, more genuine. This is the part you love most, and secretly dread that you might not receive. That rare spark in his gaze, to receive something so personal based on the assumption of what he might like. All narrowed down from a history of ten minute exchanges every week in the dead of night, shared between an academic victim who likes spending too much of her time waiting for a suspicious individual to sneak into a local bookstore, and said suspicious individual.

"It's a local author." It spills out of you before you can stop it. "I know you've read most of the classics, but you haven't really delved into ones that relate more to home."

His lip curls, a hum stuck in the back of his throat, and you recognise its one of approval. It shouldn't affect you as much as it did.

"Literature that dives into the horrors of Gotham, should I expect an existential crisis tonight?"

"I'll leave the surprise to do its job.” Leaning in over the counter, your gaze drops to his cargo pants. “Any reason for the limp?"

“Jumped down from the fourth floor.” He shrugs. “Wasn’t sure you’d wait up on me.”

You stare at him wide-eyed, waiting for him to call upon a joke—and he merely returns your stare, amused.

“Jason, you’re joking.”

“I never joke about closing hours.” He muses.

You're ready to start, because his frequent disregard for closing hours is a whole other thing—but his gaze shifts instinctively to the clock hanging lop-sided by the ladder, before landing on you again. The crinkles of his gaze deepens, softening the shadows. "You better catch the train. Do me a favour and remember to lock your windows when you get back?”

"Yeah, so long as you come in uninjured next time."

"Worried about me? As long as you keep yours, I’ll keep mine." The point in his grin sharpens, fingers giving a lazy wave as his shoulder digs into the door. The bell rings once more, as if to signify the gravity of his departure. "More illegal activities to run. See you next week, sweetheart.”

His shadow disappears past the flickering street lamp outside the store, as if he never existed. Your heart does that little, traitorous sigh—and that’s all the physical evidence you have past the lump in your throat that the exchange even happened at all.

Your first encounter with Jason was less familiarity-conduced endorphins and more of customer service's worst nightmare.

"Sir, I'm afraid we're closed."

You don't know why you bothered with the 'we', when you're clearly the only staff here. Or why you bothered speaking at all. This man who's barged in through the door, despite the 'Closed' sign, is obviously on edge and possibly on the run? Gotham's unspoken law is to never stick your nose into other people's business, especially if the stranger radiates danger right down to his bruised knuckles. All you should be concerned about is the ten minute walk you have to embark on and how all trains in this district stops at thirty minutes past eleven.

His gaze shifts at the sound of your voice, distracted and hyper-focused all at once. You're struck by the illuminating green that disperses into pale blue, when he finally notices that he isn't alone. Intense, and otherworldly—a gorgeous lunatic who looks like he materialised out of the shadows, stepping into the night and ending up on the wrong side of Gotham.

His gaze doesn't linger for long before it maneuvers around, scoping his environment as his lips press together, some sealed sigh laced within the charged tension between you two. Eventually, a low rasp leaves his lips. "I'll buy somethin'."

Your brows furrow. "Excuse me?"

His hand shifts, waving you off impatiently. "Hand me a book, or two—whatever. I need more time."

The crease between your brows deepen, that soft irritation earlier rising again. Not only has he come in during closing hours, which is the worst of all experiences in customer service, but he had the audacity to be rude and dismissive about it.

"Sir, I'm afraid you'll have to come back another time—"

"Lady." He cuts you off, gaze shifting back towards the streets before looking back to you in warning. "It's not a request. You can charge me however much you want, but I can't leave this store till the coast is clear... and neither can you."

Great, now he's holding you hostage too.

"Are you being chased?" You question impulsively. You have a bugging suspicion that he's prone to lying to you anyways, but his cutting tone makes you unfamiliarly bold. "You're a criminal?"

He snorts, finding something amusing. "In Gotham, some would say it's an honourable profession. There's worse bad guys out there, sweetheart. You're lucky it was me that came in here."

"I wouldn't call it luck." You frown. He doesn't bother with a response, clearly tuning you out, and your growing dislike finds something new to feast on. If you're going to waste a Friday night with some asshole, you may as well squeeze some money out of his pockets. Your gaze flickers over him, scrutinising.

"What are you looking at?" He murmurs, sensing your gaze even when his own is trained on the window, hand tucked under his jacket on what you hope isn't a weapon.

"Just wondering what kind of reader you are."

That finally gets his attention. He looks back at you, surprise evident in his gaze. Without that permanent furrow between his brows, he looks almost younger, erased temporarily of the self-righteousness buried in his bones and the weight of something deadly clutched in his hands.

A moment passes, his tight expression slowly unwinding into genuine amusement. "That's kind of you but you don't have to dial up your customer service. I'm not the kind of guy who leaves reviews."

Your brow twitches, frustration slipping past the cracks of your demeanour. "It's principle. I don't recommend books half-heartedly."

His smirk twitches higher, but you make the wiser choice of storming off, deeper into the shelves before he deigns you with another unfavourable response. Your mind is already slipping into its unfolding map of genres, of the books that encompass your pathway with what you think suits a jerk like him.

"Jackass." You mutter to yourself, opting between a self-help book or a literature pick for the jerk who acts so highly of himself. You decide on the latter, doubting the hunk would even understand the reference.

"Dorian Gray?"

"Yeah, heard of it?" You respond, unamused as you glare down at him.

He's made himself real comfortable, large thighs swallowing up your seat, swirling around on the creaky wheels as he eyes the store with that same assessing look he did when he first entered, as if he was used to mapping out any place he stepped into.

“Experience is merely the name men gave to their mistakes.” He mutters lowly, blue eyes landing back on you.

You blink once, then twice, wondering if you'd misheard him. "You're a reader?"

"Enough to know what you're suggesting, sweetheart." He mocks. "I know a thing or two about mistakes of men, so if you want to cause some real harm, you'll have to hit harder."

"I wasn't—" You falter, because that was exactly what you were intending on. "Fine. You forcefully extended a long, underpaid night shift, and I indirectly called you a jackass. Let's call it even."

His lip twitches involuntarily, not expecting your honesty. "Y'know being direct is what gets you places in Gotham."

"Yeah, gets you running into bookstores and terrorising their staff, you mean?"

"Well, I haven't been insulted through a book before." He shrugs half-heartedly. "I suppose you experience something new everyday."

"Anyone ever told you that you're infuriating?"

"Pretty too." He grins then, something striking and downright filthy. His hand taps on a copy of 'The Picture of Dorian Gray'. "That's what you seem to be suggesting, since you're clearly intent on being honest through your recommendations."

Your scoff escapes you, less annoyed than it should be. "I think my recommendation fits you just fine if that's the only thing you're willing to take from it."

"Oh, I'm more than willing." His grin sharpens. "That's sweet of you, but I'm afraid it's a little compromising, hitting on a customer this soon? You do this with all late night visitors?"

You're tempted to drop one of your heaviest dictionaries right on his skull to sort out the serious issues going on in that head of his. "Customer?" You raise a brow mockingly. "All I see is a stranger wasting my time after closing hours, raising this month's electricity bills, refusing to pay a single cent for his book, and getting out of here as promised."

"We still have—" His gaze glimpses to the clock. "—five minutes if you want to play it safe. You're doing a horrendous job at customer service by the way. Calling me a jackass, trying to kick me out. No wonder this place is—"

Your jaw drops. "You are not insulting the very place you're hiding in like a coward right now."

He raises both hands in surrender. "So charming. Was just going to mention how charming this place is."

Your lips quiver into an almost smile and you shut it down immediately, along with the quick decision that he is dangerous. Disarming with the quickness of his tongue, and unnerving in how he handles conversation like a chess board.

"This entire situation needs more tea." You grumble to yourself, turning your back on him.

There's nothing worth stealing on that counter of yours, unless he's crude enough to steal second-hand books worth cents if he even attempted to resell them in a city like Gotham. At most, he'd take the chipped mug rimmed with your tea. Oh, stupid you forgot your mug.

Your steps retract, a groan caught in the between your lips as you turn around with the anticipation to be hit with his mocking—only to find an empty seat in your view. Your head whips around past the shelves, but there was no sight of a worn leather jacket. Of course, he didn't even bother to announce his departure.

Coming back to the counter, you check for any missing items only to spot a bookmark poking out of one of your books, left in an ajar placement on the counter. On top of it, sat a pile of cash that was worth more than any copy in this entire store.

“Hey—”

He was already gone, you forget. You flip open the book, only to find there’s handwriting on your bookmark. Scratched in impulsively, like a lingering thought he had to put down.

“Jackass left you a tip for the trouble—and the rec. - Jason.”

His condescending tone somehow translates into pen on paper. It should irritate you. Yet, when your fingers lift to trace over the drying ink, you find yourself smiling involuntarily again. Jason. What kind of a man was he? It's a useless question, as you doubt you'll ever see him again.

A likely criminal, a guaranteed jerk—and probably the most exciting visitor of your entire summer.

Jason comes back not a week after. Covered in blood, which after your initial fright, is believed to belong mostly to the other guy. That particular fact he thought to include does little to soothe your nerves.

“You should’ve seen him.” He rambles, in what you could only hope wasn't his disgruntled attempt at impressing you, whilst laying flat on the desk. “Makes mine look like child's play."

The first-aid kit, hidden somewhere in the store cabinet, is squeezed haphazardly onto your office chair. There’s nothing more nerve-wracking than your first attempt at stitching a cut, not anything close to your caliber. If his arms weren't wrecked, you suspect he wouldn't have come all the way to you, an actual stranger. His voice distracts you, and you miss your aim.

Jason hisses, half-shirtless with his black tee tucked between his canines. "No, I said you have to turn it as soon as the point disappears."

Your hand is splayed over his stomach, fingers shaking slightly as you try to focus. "Stop shifting, and just keep quiet for a second. I can't focus with you nagging me."

"Forgive me for being concerned about my wound—"

Your hand comes up to shove the t-shirt further into his mouth, muffling his words. He raises a brow, almost amused, and a trickle of sweat brushes past.

"I'm trying my best to help, when this is clearly something hospitals exist for." You huff, focusing back on the stitch. "Give me some grace, and shut up."

His muscles flex and contract, but eventually, he listens. Your work becomes easier after that, despite it being the worst position you've ever been put in, neck cramping to avoid blocking your only source of light, the flickering lamp above the surface he's laid on, his blood dripping onto the wood.

"You owe me at least five purchases to make up for the blood stains." You grumble. "That requires you to stay alive."

He grunts through the fabric, and you take it as agreement.

“Why’re you back here anyway?” You question, trying to distract yourself. “Of all the places you could’ve gone, you thought that a bookstore keeper would have medical expertise?”

“Not medical expertise.” He mutters, voice too raw to not be honest. “I wanted..”

Your hand places a cloth over his wound, soaking the fabric red. “Wanted what?”

His gaze lingers over you, somehow more haunting with how the blue shade's grown darker, pupils expanded. He winces when you accidentally put too much pressure on the stitch, but that doesn't seem to be all to his sudden stillness. “A recommendation.” He answers eventually.

You stare at him, tempted to laugh. “You came all this way bleeding out, barging in through the door, past closing hours again—for a recommendation?”

He stares at you, and your laugh slips through when you realise that he’s at least half-serious. “I knew you'd be infuriating, but I didn't expect insanity.”

He ends up buying eight later just to prove his point and to make up for the blood stains, only after you promised that they'd all be your recommendations.

The hour's long past operating train schedules, and with the quiet acknowledgement of traumatising your uneventful Friday night, the second time he's reinvented what a normal shift should have been—he offers to walk you back once warmth seeps back into his skin.

Somewhere between sitting cramped behind the shelves as you pick out his recommendations and his tracking gaze over your frame as you rant on about how he desperately needed a self-help book or two, the unspoken tension gradually fades. Eventually, your frustrations die down too—and you realise his company, minus the blood and sharpness of tongue, wasn't the worst thing in the world.

You come to expect Jason’s presence, late in the night although he does begin to respect the concept of a ‘closing hour’. He's usually your last visitor regardless—leaving the two of you alone to... continue on your charade of recommendations. Even when he begins to linger longer than any customer should, offering to walk you back, or make you tea when you're too busy shelfing to bother with a new mug to replace your over-steeped one from the afternoon. Except for today, because Margery, your least favourite customer in the whole of Gotham, decides to pick the one night Jason's visiting to start her practiced act.

Clearly intending on slithering her way into getting something for free, Margery drones on about how important her niece's education is to her, and how anything contributing to children's education should be free of charge. All over a book set costing a measly seven bucks, but you suppose to dear Margery, supporting small businesses in Gotham isn't in her check-list.

“I’m sorry, Margery.” Your voice remains perfectly levelled. “I can't hand the set to you for free, because it's against our policy."

“Can’t you understand my situation?” She huffs, annoyance flared in the fine lines of her cheeks. “No one's even interested in that set, I've surveyed it for days.”

“Which by all existing policies, still requires a purchase, ma’am.”

She scoffs, nails drumming impatiently against the counter. “I want to speak to your manager.”

Your lips quirk up. “Jason.”

Jason shifts then, his gaze lifting from the book in his hand, one which he hasn’t turned the page since he conveniently perched himself right next to your counter ten minutes ago. He places the book down gently onto the wood, bookmark slipping into place, though the slight sneer of his lips conveys none of that delicate care as he slumps against the counter, shoulder brushing against yours.

“There a problem?”

Margery blinks, affronted by his attitude. Or his sheer size towering over her. "You're the manager?"

“Policy’s law.” Jason shrugs. “If you’d like to take this further, to save yourself—“ His gaze flickers to the book set, and his smirk quirks up higher—the perfect composition of a jerk. “Seven bucks, we'll be more than happy to call the authorities.”

“I have never experienced such horrible service!” Her cheeks grow warm, sloshed with embarrassment. “Acting as if I'm in the wrong—you’ll be receiving the worst review!”

"All’s fair in Gotham, ma’am.” He calls out with a grin as he watches her turquoise skirt catch onto the end of the door hinge, releasing another shriek from her lips.

The door slams shut, bell ringing dramatically with the impact, and Jason turns back to you, smile slipping into something familiar and reserved for you. “The review will be wiped the moment she hits post.”

You snort, leaning back against the shelves. “Should I be concerned about your illegal activities invading its way into my work?”

“Nah.” He shrugs. “Last place the GCPD will look into is some shabby bookstore.”

“Shabby.” You feign offense. "Our most repeating customer doesn't even hold a shred of respect for this place."

“Oh-no, I’m beginning to like the sound of being manager of this fine establishment.” He humours, glancing around as if he hasn't already memorised the interior.

You frown, suspicious of his change in tune. “Why, cause you’ll be the boss of me?”

His smirk deepens. “One of its many perks, I imagine.”

“Oh, get over yourself, Todd.” You glance back towards the door, still unable to rid yourself of the satisfaction of watching that entire fiasco go down. "Though I suppose a thank you is in order."

"Couldn't get her out of her fast enough." He shrugs. "She was taking up our time."

"Our?" You raise a brow, almost teasing as you look back at him. "Didn't realise this was our thing now."

His gaze lingers on you, as if he knew his response would be the deciding factor of acknowledging the thinly veiled string that's begun to loop itself around the both of you. Something about your dark circles, the oil on your nose bridge, or the mess of your knotted hair—whatever he saw in you, seals his decision.

"Yeah." His voice rasps, the most unguarded you've ever heard him. "It is."

It's an instantaneous kick, one that nearly leaves you breathless as you try to regain your composure. He could’ve said nothing. He could have thrown this to the side and said that his weekly visits for recommendations during your shifts, no matter if he was bleeding or bruised at the knuckles coming from a life clearly separate from yours—meant nothing.

Yet, it does mean something. Not just to you, but to him as well.

"Oh." You mutter, because you can't think of anything appropriate to say to that.

"Oh." He echoes, a genuine smile lingering at the edge of his lips. "Haven't received my recommendation of the day, sweetheart."

You blink, feeling strangely light, as if your body has regained all the energy zapped out from long hours of rearranging shelves and stacking boxes. It doesn't help that he's looking at you like that, soft and disarmed in a way you've begun to realise he's let himself be, only around you.

You should've trusted your gut that he was dangerous, but never in the way you expected. Your heart skips traitorously, the little thing already knowing something that you refuse to admit aloud. So, you do what you always do and dig out your recommendation, waiting for that spark to light in his gaze and pretend there's nothing more to why you love it so much.

Weeks turn into months, and Jason becomes your one constant even as your shifts lessen in hours to accommodate your academics. If anything, there's something comforting now about leather jackets, the faint scent of pain ointment, the certain knowledge that Jason is most probably a vigilante, after you noticed his constant vigilance over the district you work in has significantly lessened crime rates.

His shelf at home has built its steady collection, every book representing a particular week, an ever-increasing memoir of the thing shared between the two of you, from the first time he stumbled into the store. You don't know what to call it, only that you wish for it to never stop.

He knows the store like the back of his palm, including the exact hour in which you would get up for a tea refill, or when you need a steady hand on the ladder to reach the highest shelves. It's strangely intimate, the way he slots himself into the quiet mundane of your shifts, but he never complains of boredom or having something better to do with his time. If anything, the slower the day, the more he seems to uncurl like a satisfied feline—accompanying you by your side when there's nothing more to do, catching up on his reads while you have a read of your own.

"I have a recommendation for you." Jason mutters offhandedly, legs resting on the desk, as much as home as you are now, seemingly unbothered that he's randomly switched up the unspoken rules of the thing that's shared between the two of you.

You raise a brow, gaze peering over your current read. "You—Mr. I Can't Read Without Your Recommendations, has one for me?"

He shrugs, taking something out from the inner pocket of his jacket. You never understand just how much he's able—and willing to fit inside the leather confinements, and you swear half of it belongs to his side of the world you're privy to only in the latest of nights, when his hand is gripping yours knuckle-white, and he lets you stay by his side before muttering his review for his latest read.

In his hand, is a book, one in which you recognise immediately.

"Dorian Gray." You muse. "Is it your turn to call me self-conceited?"

His lip twitches into a half-smirk, but it buries itself under what you only recognise now to be nerves.

"Jason?" You murmur, slightly startled as you place down your book.

His own hand, scarred over the knuckles and engulfing the book, places its weight gently in your hands, as if offering something sacred.

"I wrote something inside." He mutters, voice softened.

Your brows furrow, but you oblige—flipping open the very first copy you've ever recommended to him, and find a handwritten note on the first page. It's unmistakably his, and there's a few scratched out lines that you can't make out, clearly something he pondered over for a while.

"I think you've probably figured it out by now, that I am not good with my words, no matter how many books I've read with greater speeches or declarations. Still, you deserve to hear something honest, and I've always conveyed myself better through my actions than I do with my mouth.

When I first entered this store, I never expected to run into you. Fate or whatever people call it, has never been considerate of my path, or who I encounter along it. Yet, you stood right there, clearly out of place with the world I know, and I don't think I'll ever truly comprehend how our paths aligned. I told myself to forget you, but you had given me a piece of you in the book you placed in my hands, and I couldn't stop thinking of that, of you. I tried convincing myself, after considering it for seven days, that seeking you out would make the curiousity dissipate, and not because I wanted to hear your voice again.

Bleeding out over your counter, I knew that I was done for when I realised I was willing to buy the entire store if it meant getting to spend a few more minutes by your side. Every book I carried home, was me getting to keep pieces of evidence, of this thing we share that feels like it's completely ours. Proof that a person who thought about what kind of reader I'd be despite every reason not to care—actually existed.

I'll probably regret this, I do have a talent of screwing up with people, but keeping silent has never been my forte, and I would regret not telling you what I've known since the first, which is that there hasn't been a single book where a line has crossed my mind without thinking of you. That there hasn't been a day, where I don't hold myself back from wanting to see you again. I'm offering you my honesty because I do believe that's the only decency available in Gotham, and I'd like to offer you at least that."

Speechless was an understatement for the shaking in your fingers, the weight of the page in your hand when you finally look up and meet his gaze.

He's nervous, pupils dilated—body locked with tension. He's just poured his heart out to you through the page of the very first book you've given him, and he's staring at you like you’ve changed the entire trajectory of his life, and not the other way around.

“Jason.”

“I’ve never done anything like this.” It spills out of him, as if he can’t contain himself. “Our thing, falling for someone. So, before you say anything—I just want to state that I'm not expecting anything. That's the one of the hardest lessons I ever had to learn a long time ago, so don't feel you have to say something you don't mean. I just can't go on pretending that meeting you didn't change something in me—that it hasn't rewired what genuine happiness feels like. I began to read again, after all these years, because books which I once found comfort in now reminds me of you. That in every line I read, I searched for something to bring back to you."

"It scared me." He admits, and even the act seems to cost him. "To care that much. To have this lack of control over how I operate, how I should feel. You disarmed me in a way no one else ever had, and I didn't think I even had that in me anymore. To feel this terrified and to still want someone this much."

His hand lowers to the note-filled page, the book still gripped between your hands and his expression steadies. "I considered it countless times. To stop this, before I start something I'll never be able to take back. Then I looked at you, and I realised I can never go back to my life 'before' you. That I was already in this, and I'd be willing to do anything if you are too."

"Jason." You call out, and he stops with a trained halt, as if he expected the worst. That was your last straw.

"I didn't even need the note." You burst. "If you had simply told me you wanted me, I would've already said yes. Our thing, I've always wanted to be a part of it."

Before, he was tense—but now, your words seemed to have hit him like a truck. You continue, not wanting him to doubt something you realised should've been obvious from the moment you kept that very first note he left you in your wallet.

"I want to be in this with you, Jason." You confess. "You're the one person I wanted to see every night. I don't know how to say this without sounding like a mess but—every book in this store, I constantly look for something that screams you and I wait in the hopes that you'll like it, and that was the most scariest, intimate thing I've ever done for someone. So—you're an idiot if you think I don't want this as much as you do."

"...You mean I didn't have to feel physically ill to write that note out, and you would've said yes?" He mutters after a moment, a low huff of amusement leaving his lips.

“I thought you said being direct is what gets you places in Gotham.” You quote.

His smile gradually reappears. “Yeah, I suppose it got me places. Running into a shabby bookstore, getting hit on the first night.”

You raise a brow. “You and I remember that encounter very differently."

"Yeah?" He murmurs. "That'll be a problem if we aren't on the same page. Just to give it a test, what if I said I wanted to kiss you right now?"

Shock registers faintly to you, even if that thought's been circling your mind for months. A little smile pulls at your mouth. "Yeah, I think we might be on the same page there."

When he leans in, you smell faintly of gunpowder, something warm and smoky—so distinctly Jason. You don't think you'll ever tire of it, and you love it more when his fingers tangled itself into your hair, brushing against the nape of your neck. When he finally kisses you, a low rumble in the back of his throat in content, you find he was half-right that night you both met. Maybe there was luck involved after all.

"I am keeping that note." You murmur after he pulls away to press something softer against your temple.

His lips curl into a smile, and you feel it against your skin. "'Course you are."

likes, reblogs, and comments are highly appreciated! <333

dc masterlist -> jason + other dc works

jason taglist: @bloomfaery @koibleufish @enmzgn @jxybirdiv @vanillakirstein @mrrayjay @arabellas-barbarella-swimsuit12 @amandjslpz @mossmydarling @batslilwhore @dclover567 @gojoswaterbottle @strawberryfire17 @treebranch23 @vampiranne @tofudubicho @roszszs @revesephemeres @caterppillar @living-that-chronic-life @nxx-jordiepord @elysian-groves @pearly-pebble @ninareads25 @grace-loves-to-read @jarofstarsxx @favorite-fan-fics @radheadphones @freakkay09 @fea-tastic @starr-jazz @bearhug120 @devilslittlehelper @izumi0708 @prettysweet02 @spideyskywalker @outpostsworld @leovaldez0924 @jaydennicole @iloveyou3000morgan @fireriyu

[tb-png]

every super has their favorite bat! 🦇

[yasyart]

High on Primehood again

[rosaeh]

oh my godness

[2698rr]

when jason’s angry you can tell.

his breathing will shorten, puffs of air leaving faster than normal. his hands will shake causing him to drop a lot of stuff, his body will lack its usual quietness when moving around.

but, there’s one other way you can tell he’s angry.

either you two had a fight, one that resorted in heightened vocals and sarcastic laughs. or, you’re calming him down after something particularly aggravating.

either way, you’ve ended up in bed. your legs wrapped around his torso as your nails dig fiercely into the moonlit skin of his.

he’s huffing, hot breath smacking itself onto either your neck, your forehead or your shoulder. his eyes will glare at you, especially if you’ve just had an argument.

but, just because he’s mean with every piston of his hips, every bounce of skin tumbling into skin. that doesn’t mean he’s mean to you.

his hands will still cradle the strands of your hair as a silent forgiveness, his lips will peck soft nibbles, afraid to taint your skin.

he won’t drawl out degrading words..

(he had spent far too many nights hearing the girls standing on the Corner be berated with them to ever direct them at you.)

infact, he’ll be even kinder when handling you. he had watched people his entire life take their anger out on somebody they loved over something so trivial, he’d be dammed if he did that.

so instead, he’d tighten his fingers painfully into the softened fabrics that trailed under the two of you, when he’s getting close he won’t nip onto your collarbone this time, rather he will shove his face into the pillow above you.

and when all is said and done, he’ll roll the two of you over, his hand on your back as he moves to position you laying on top of him, head shoving itself into your now sweat stained hair.

his fingers will trace every digit and crack from your spine, his mouth will mumble out every love caressed word and he will soak up every complaint or compliment.

because, jason’s not a mean person. he’ll tell himself he is or the gotham gazette will paint him (red hood) as one, but he isn’t.

he’s brash, he’s irrational. but never is he mean.

— ʚїɞ — —ʚїɞ— —ʚїɞ—

[friendly-neighborhood-crowbar]

Jason Todd is one of the most punk characters I’ve seen, who doesn’t look stereotypically punk. This man is anti-government and anti-establishment. He canonically is a protector and friend to sex workers, yet an enemy to the system that keeps them trapped. He is disdainful towards the uber wealthy, yet capable of showing empathy towards people of all stations.

I find the discourse of “Jason is just a big softie” vs “no, he’s a brute” to be so telling. He’s both AND he’s neither. The idea that Jason is a softie comes from people looking down on his extreme empathy towards women and children. The idea that he’s a brute is usually a classist argument because he grew up in Crime Alley.

In truth, Jason is just punk. He cares about PEOPLE, and is willing to show both kindness and harshness to build the world he wants to see.

[e1ectraaheart]

𝐖𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐄 𝐖𝐄𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆? - 𝐣𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐝

jason todd x fem!reader summary: jason can't seem to understand why you keep talking about "your" wedding contains: fluff, established relationship, pet names word count: ~600

You and Jason laid in bed, morning light shuffling in through the blinds and illuminating the soft bedding. Jason had one arm around your waist as his head was tucked into the crook of your neck, eyes shut contentedly. Your eyes were open, staring blankly at the page of your book as you listened to Jason’s soft breathing mix with the morning birdsongs that rolled in with the light. 

“Jay?” you whispered quietly, testing to see if he was awake.

“Hm?” he grunted in reply, nose nestling further into your neck.

You kept quiet for a moment, hesitant to bring up such a topic before finally asking, “Do you ever think about what you want your wedding to be like?”

Jason was silent and you felt his arm subtly tense around you. You started to worry you had crossed some line you didn’t know existed before he replied, “What do you mean?”

“I mean like how many people, what type of cake, the venue…that stuff. How do you picture your future wedding?”

You felt Jason’s brow furrow against your skin. “I’m still confused,” he mumbled, lips brushing ur neck and placing a soft kiss there.

You pursed your lips, puzzled at how he could be confused by such a question. “What are you confused about? When I picture my wedding I know I want—”

Jason abruptly sat up straight, causing you to stop speaking and stare at him in confusion. He was really starting to freak you out.

“Why do you keep saying it like that?” he asked, looking at you with a mix of annoyance, confusion, and a hint of hurt. 

“Saying it like what?”

Jason looked away for a moment, letting the sunrays filtering in illuminate his features. His scars were highlighted and when his eyes met yours again, you could see them so clearly, their mix of green and blue capturing you before he spoke again. 

“Saying ‘your wedding’ or ‘my wedding’. Why do you keep doing that?”

“Um…” you paused, laughing nervously. “What am I supposed to say, Jay?”

“Doll,” he brought his hand up to cradle your face. “There’s not gonna be a ‘my wedding’ or a ‘your wedding’...only ‘our wedding’. I’m not getting married unless it’s to you, princess.”

“Oh.” Your face flushed and your eyes widened, a soft smile breaking out across your lips before you buried your face in Jason’s chest in embarrassment. 

Jason laughed, bringing his arms up to envelope you and leaning down to place a kiss upon your head. You were consumed by his intoxicating scent - the expensive cologne Dick had bought him for Christmas, gunpowder from last night’s patrol, your favorite shampoo he swore he never used, and the fresh smell of clean linen sheets. 

“Yeah, ‘oh’.” He smiled as you brought your head back up to meet his. Jason kissed you softly and sweetly, still sluggish from sleep. “What, were you plannin’ on marrying someone else?”

Your eyes widened as you pulled back. “No! No, of course not! I just…didn’t know if you wanted that.”

He looked at you with a gentle, lovesick expression on his face. “I never thought I did either, doll.” He paused which made your heart pick up nervously again. But he just brought his hands to yours and raised one to kiss it tenderly. “Until I met you.”

You flushed again, swatting him away playfully. “Who knew you were such a romantic, Todd?”

“Always have been,” he pulled you back into his arms. “Just hadn’t met the right girl until now.”

[rosaeh]

❦ « twenty-nine pearls in your kiss, a singing smile, coffee smell, and lilac skin, your flame in me » | jason todd

based on this thought i had

ও synopsis : being in a band can be hard, especially when you have feelings for your guitarist and youre cursed to sing the love songs he writes for his girlfriend. because he has to have a girlfriend, right ? ও content : band!au, reader is the lead singer while jason plays guitar, friends to lover, mutual pinning, thus idiots in love, yearner jason, fem reader in mind but no physical description, probably grammar errors but it's been in my drafts for way to long and if i don't post it now i never will. anyway, enjoy ! ও title : everybody here wants you - jeff buckley

the adrenaline's pumping through you, as it always does before of your guys gig, a mix of anxiety and excitement at the thought of all those people looking right at you, expecting either for you to give them a life changing performance or to mess everything up.

you're taking a deep breath when you feel a hand on your shoulder, jason's hand. he squeezes, "hey, you alright?"

a smile comes to your lips instinctively at the sight of jason, "i should be the one asking you that."

he quirks a brow, it's his turn to smile, the same one he always offers you, the one that shows of his right dimple and the scar on his lower lips. he hums, "yeah ? and why's that ?"

you try really hard not to stare at his lips, "cause we're performing your song for the first time, perhaps ?"

his smile widens a bit, "ah, right. but you'll be the one singing it, so i know it's gonna be alright."

it's a simple thing to say, really, but jason always have this way of soothing all your worries with the simplest words, and you always look forward to them. and somehow, he always delivers them when you need it most. him and this capacity of his to read you people.

you recover from this trance he always seems to be putting you in, that's when you feel at your safest, that's the high you tend to look for before every concert. it makes you perform better — with him in mind. 

“well, i would hate to ruin your love song” what you really want to say is that you hope you won’t ruin the song for his girlfriend, but you don't because you really don't wanna talk about that. he has yet to tell you anything about her, but you can tell he is down bad, lately all he came up with were love songs, and you feel so bad everytime youre up stage, singing, performing really, and you get closer to jason, singing with him, for him, letting yourself believe maybe one day one of his songs could be about you. you’d get closer, sing, admire his guitar skills and he’d flash you that grin, the one that almost make you forget the lyrics. you’d recover, ask the crowd to make some noise for jason, and his smile would deepen, his eyes fixated on yours all while the crowd scream for you both. you’d get closer, let yourself fall into his gravity center, but the reality would come crashing back to you. his girlfriend is probably watching, listening to this song he wrote for her. only then you would step away from him, focusing back on your performance, remembering yourself that all of this is for his girlfriend.

a few times you almost let yourself ask him : does your girlfriend come to our gigs ? what does she think of me ? what does she think of us ? only to remind yourself there’s no “us”, there’s him and her. but God, you don’t think you could bear hearing about it, singing his lyrics is painful enough without that.

“you could never” his words brings you back. you blink at him, “ruin a song, you could never.”

you look up at him, smiling slightly, though it doesn’t reach your eyes. and maybe you like to suffer because you can’t help but speak up anyway, "yeah well, wouldn't want for your girlfriend to hate the song you wrote for her because of a poor delivery on my part" you joke.

you looked away from him as the words left you, and your eyes didn't catch his brows furrowing. you're already expecting what he's going to say : don't pressure yourself over that, really it's-

"what'd you say?" he says, and his tone —genuinely confused— makes you look up at him.

"i don't want to perform your love song badly." he shakes his head, "no, the girlfriend part."

now it's your turn to be confused, "what about it?"

jason huffs, then he says your name, says it the same way he does when he's trying to catch your attention during rehearsals, "there's no girlfriend." he says matter-of-factly.

"what do you mean ?"

"literally what i just said, i don't have a girlfriend." his gaze his searching yours as he tilts his head to the side, "i don't have a girlfriend" he repeats, as if the simple idea of you thinking he had a girlfriend offended him.

"oh, sorry. i figured you had one, with all the lyrics you come up with lately." he shakes his head again, and if you didn't know him better, you'd think he was annoyed with you, "you don't gotta apologize for that, angel."

angel, that's what the band usually calls you, but he came up with it, angel's voice and all that he'd say.

you feel stupid now as you let out a nervous chuckle, "thought you had a girl in mind when you wrote this song, guess you just a romantic at heart, hm?"

"no," you look up, but his gaze is already on you, "i had a girl in mind"

your heart sinks, "oh," you force a smile, "that's great for you. lucky her." his eyes are still on you and you don't want him to see through you, so you can't help but speak, hoping to distract him, "i mean, who wouldn't want a man writing that kind lyrics ? you're practically on jeff buckley's level." you try to joke, wanting him to break eyes contact, anything. "you ought to tell her."

jason presses his lips together with a slight nod of his head, as if he had just made a decision. he hums, a low sound, taking a step closer to you, "you think so?" and his voice is low.

sensing a shift in the room, you don't dare move, don't dare say anything, not wanting to shatter whatever is happening.

he presses on, "i don't think she wants me to tell her. i figured it was one-sided." another step, "see, no matters how many songs i wrote, she doesn't bulge. so, i've come to the conclusion that she just don't like me back, but maybe..." he raises his hand, pushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear, "maybe she's just as oblivious as i am. what'd you think?"

your heart is pounding at his proximity. this isn't like on stage. this isn't performance, there's no crowd, just jason and you, and all your feelings coming back to crush you, placing themselves right against your ribcage.

"i think...you should put her out of her misery, stop her from wondering any more if the songs are about her or not." you manage lowly.

he smiles, damn his dimples, "you really think i would make you sing lyrics if it weren't for you ? what kinda monster do you think i am, sweetheart ?"

you bite down a smile, "a really sadistic one."

"no, no. i like you too much to make you suffer like that. you on the other hand, had my heart right in your hands, and you squeezed it tight every time you performed as if i didn't put all my love on those lyrics."

you grin, hitting his chest, "how was i supposed to know ? i'm not the only one you thought you had a secret girl."

he grabs your hand, letting it linger on his chest. "alright, fair game. i might have let the other believe i was taken. didn't want 'em to set me up. you know how they are."

you hum, looking down at his chest — you can feel his heartbeat, that's probably the closest you've ever been to him, and you don't intent to part any time soon. "tried with me too."

jason laughs, and it makes his chest reverberate. "i know. God, i know. almost confessed right then and there. don't think i could've stood it."

your heart is definitely beating way too fast, "you mean me with someone else?"

"even the idea makes me sick"

"welcome to my last month"

his hand squeeze yours, "youre right. damn, youre right, baby. i'm sorry i've made you feel this way. i really didn't mean to." his finger lift to trace your jaw, stopping under your chin his eyes burning through yours, " think you could ever forgive me?" he leans in, his voice a whisper now. "i'll make it up to you."

he has to feel your pulse. it's as if your heart was trying to come out of your ribcage, trying to make its way to him. you look up, gaze lingering on his lips. you nod, and jason is taking in every single movements of yours. "i think...you can start right now"

jason's lips curls up, a boyish smile on his face, as if he is finally being granted all he has ever asked for. his lips are millimeters away from yours now. "yeah? i'd love that, sweetheart."

and you swear you've never ever smiled as hard as when jason finally kisses you.

reblogs and comments are very appreciated 💋

feel free to send me asks 💌

[rosaeh]

ও singer!reader's mood board | scared of my guitar - olivia rodrigo

Yeah, I'm so scared of my guitar 'Cause it cuts right through to the heart Yeah, it knows me too well, so I got no excuse I can't lie to it the same way that I lie to you