If anyone had asked Bruce who the first one to settle down would be, his answer would have never been Jason Peter Todd. Not never not once.
But somewhere between adopting his oldest child, a chronically rambunctious seven-year-old named Teddy and now- he was forced to concede that he'd have been wrong.
"Where's Ma?" Teddy asked. Now ten- still bright-eyed and chaotic.
"Still at the studio," he answered, shifting the sleeping baby he was holding to ruffle his hair.
"Can I-"
"As long as you can do it quietly," he said, eyes crinkling at the corners, "If you wake Tilde or Tess up I'm gonna throw you in the pool."
"Kay!"
And before Jason can say anything else, the screen door shuts with a bang and Jason cringes, mouthing "fuck" when the baby he's holding wakes with a start and starts fussing.
"Are you really going to throw him in the pool?" Bruce asked, holding out his arms to take the baby.
"Bruce you hit me with a car-"
"No. I hit the brakes when you were on the car," he said practically.
"Semantics," he said, going to fix a bottle so he could try and get his youngest back to sleep.
"Hardly," Bruce said, smiling a little. Domesticity suited Jason. And when he watched his son take his daughter. Rough hands gentle as he settled her in the crook of his arm so he could hold a bottle and try to start dinner, he couldn't help but feel a little old.
The only person that didn't seem to realize anything was amiss, was you.
The entire family watched Jason stop in his tracks and visibly melt. He'd started surly, his boots thundering on the floor. But as soon as he saw you, bouncing a fussy baby- a half-human half Kryptonian baby- but still, on your hip, distracting them from the discomfort of teething with something cold to gum and a lullaby as you worked on other things. His face softened and the tension left his shoulders.
He went from being about to go yell at Tim to having to go-anywhere else. Because if he didn't he'd not stop staring at you. Or thinking about a way to get you to agree to have a baby with him- He'd have to get you to agree to dinner, first.
"Need a cold shower, Jaybird?" Dick muttered, eyes crinkling at the corners.
"Shut up," he grumbled.
"I think he needs to take the batteries out of his biological clock," Stephanie opined, grinning.
"Extra shut up," Jason growled, shouldering a door open and squeezing through, careful not to let it slam.
Dick watched him go and suppressed a snort with difficulty, "You can't deny- they'd make really pretty babies."
"Bite your tongue, Master Richard," Alfred drawled, "The last thing we need is to experience Master Jason with anxiety about becoming a father."
"You realize I can hear you right?" you ask them, glad your back was turned so they couldn't see how flustered you were.
"Yes," Stephanie chirped, unrepenant, snickering when you leave the room, shortly after laying the now sleeping baby in her playpen.
Hi! Since you're starting anew, I'd like to request Jason trying to wake the reader up. She's tired, very sleepy, but she has something to do and she's gonna be late for it. So Jason has to wake her up. Very fluffy and warm. A lot of Jason calling her pet names to get her to move. Thank you!
RÉVEILLER
Jason Todd x fem! reader
MASTERLIST
WC • 535
WARNINGS • fem leaning pet names used, very slight mentions of injury
SUMMARY •
You slowly peaked out from the pillow that salvaged your face, eyebrows firmly knitted, and nose scrunched up in the slightest. The sight made Jason sigh before he turned, placing the water bottle on the nightstand beside you.
“Get up, or miss breakfast. Your choice.”
AN • and we’re back! just a little note, “réveiller” is french for “wake”, or the english version of “to wake up”!
“Gorgeous!”
The calling resonated with the faint waves of static captive in your mind, rolling in increasingly frantic waves as you breathed in. A final crash from your windowsill caused you to sigh, allowing a slow exhale to pool out of your mouth, in hand with the lethargic roll you gave your sheets. A chorus of pants rang out from nearby as you buried your face into the sheets, mumbling a soft “no” when Jason nudged your shoulder, slightly disturbed by the scent of dried blood, and more so the streets of Gotham
“Come on, love.” He clicked his tongue as you swatted his hand away, reaching forward to pull you up the next second. “It’s 7:50, Abby is expecting you at 8:20.”
In response, you stuffed a sheet over your face, hiding his prying gaze from your sights. However, this saved you only for a few seconds, as Jason was quick to swipe the thin material away from your grasp, throwing an unimpressed frown your way as he did so. Before you knew it, a bottle of cold water was being smushed against your cheek, rousing a sharp hiss from your end.
“Jason!”
He slowly withdrew the water bottle, bringing it to his chest as he crossed his arms.
“You gotta get up, darling, stop being difficult.”
You slowly peaked out from the pillow that salvaged your face, eyebrows firmly knitted, and nose scrunched up in the slightest. The sight made Jason sigh before he turned, placing the water bottle on the nightstand beside you.
“Get up, or miss breakfast. Your choice.”
Only a few steps hit the carpet before he stopped, once more looking down at your contesting gaze. His eyebrows raised in anticipation, tapping an unsteady rhythm against his clumsily bandaged thigh, still waiting for a change in your features. The eyes that loved you ever so dearly grew considerably more scrutinizing every second, all until you looked away, untangling yourself from the sheets with a small groan.
“Usually when people see me staring at them like that, they shit their pants.” He smiled, offering a hand to help you to stand. “I’m surprised you lasted so long.”
You let out an amused scoff, offering a chaste kiss to his cheek before turning for your closet. The favor was returned at base of your hair, followed by a swift hand rubbing down your cheek, and stopping to tuck one of your stray hairs back.
“And what would you like for breakfast, my dear?”
His smile was cut short as you spun him into your place, opening the closet door for him with a smile.
“I think you’ve done enough, handsome. You need a shower.” Your hands ran down his chest, stopping to tap the crimson bat symbol that sat in the center of his suit with your knuckles. “Oh, and don’t think I’m not checking those wounds out before I leave.”
A quiet, “fine” parted Jason’s lips as he waved you off, groaning at the sight of your rising grin. Faux irritation reflected his gaze as he looked at you, fully expecting what was coming next as you mimicked his stance.
aizawa loves when you get a little drunk. just a little sloppy and flirty- pinch his ass and he jumps at the touch,, ask for a kiss even though you're in public.....just uninhibited in a way he can never let himself become.
he lets you wear his jacket on the subway. maybe even gives you a piggy back ride
PSA! looks like I’ve also fallen victim to @/tt-amaki’s journey of plagiarism. here is the piece copied. the blog has copied multiple authors’ works and is adamantly denying it. please do not send hate but report & block. I’ve tried to message her but haven’t heard back. pls help spread the word. thank ya thank ya!
p.s. if you’re gonna copy, at least try to change up a few things and not use the same layout, you’re almost making it too easy to be caught
aizawa just loves a nympho ok??? a girl he can't possibly keep up with. a girl that has him sleeping soundly through the night cause she's fucked him dry
Every time I think it can’t get any better WFA surprises me... I can’t not believe that we are finally getting some exploration on Jason’s PTSD from a FUCKING WEBTOON!
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