[sun-struck]

ivy, any pronouns. twenties. poc. very normal about jason todd, anakin skywalker, and vampires. just here for vibes. this is a side blog mostly of images, fic, and whatever fictional character is currently rotating in my head :) there is mature content, minors will be blocked. main blog (i follow/like from): @apricatings

[dykonicdiva]

i am at my clits end

[kosmogrl]

[lazer-exe]

I'm gonna say it, I do think that even the laziest person imaginable should have a roof over their head, food in their stomach, and access to healthcare

[lazer-exe]

a lot of people are reblogging this saying that most "lazy" people are actually just disabled or that the concept of laziness itself is a product of our society's obsession with productivity. this is all true, but it is not my point.

even if someone WAS just lazy and simply didn't want to do anything but lie on the couch and watch tv, they should still have these things. it's irrelevant whether some people aren't actually lazy because everyone, including hypothetical lazy people, should have their basic needs met.

if we have the resources to do it, there is no defense of letting people die because they don't want to work, and much less because they can't.

I don't want lazy people to have basic necessities because they "actually" deserve them because they ARE working or CAN'T work. I want lazy people to have basic necessities because they are people, and we shouldn't leave them to die when we have the resources not to.

[sparklminion]

[deervsheadlights]

wish everyone could perceive the Vague Concepts in my head because i just know you would looove my Vague Concepts. you would think im so smart if you saw the misty clouds of Vague Concepts floating around in my head. #MyVagueConcepts

[marsupials-of-mars]

Everyone on tumblr has Conditions. maladies. I log onto tumblr and my mutuals are unwellposting. Conditions I didn't even know existed and sound like dark curses but I will see a post from friend like "died about 60% today, fine now. Made egg on toast #yummytoast". There are so many people in this world with life experiences

[fyresfly]

whatever. i am not above making a social media au

part 1: everyone bullies ollie.

next

[solisstars]

the last physical piece jason has of his mother comes in the form of a self-help book–one bruce found and preserved following his passing.

the book is an unbearably cruel reminder most days, but he can’t ever bring himself to leave it’s odd comfort behind. its gone everywhere with him for years; from safe house to safe house, from his apartment to your now-shared one.

yet, no matter where he takes it, it’s very rare he lets anyone hold it. with exceptions to usually only you–save for the time he let roy borrow it for an evening.

jason reads his book every night before bed, despite how it weighs on his mind after. how the thoughts about “if” and “why” linger.

some nights, he’s too tired to read–too upset about the past or too overwhelmed from his day. but to not hold or hear that final piece feels like intentionally forgetting her. so instead, he slides the book into your lap.

“can you read?” he’ll ask as he slips under the covers, his back facing you so you can’t see the slightly grim expression on his face. “please.”

you nod and pick up the book. you know even if he’s not looking directly at you that he knows you can’t deny him when he asks so politely.

jason lays there, tucked in like a little kid all over again, as your soft voice reads statistics like words of the angels.

other nights, when the two of you are fighting, or when an argument is too fresh, he’ll sit on the edge of the bed next to you. you don’t turn to face him, still upset or busy wiping tears from your eyes, but you feel him shifting next to you. it always takes a moment of hesitance, but he opens up a book–usually one of yours, but sometimes his, and starts to read to you.

he doesn’t know if you actually care about the recovery tips he’s already deemed useless, or the percentages about addiction, but he does know you listen to every word. because you care for what he has to say, even if his words come from a page.

note: for a man raised in a world of cruelty, and revived into one of anger, mundane things will always be more intimate than sex when it comes to jason todd

[jammmly]

𓈒𓏲 ׁ Dating Jason Todd x Fem! Reader ິ 𓈒ֺּׅ

꒰ headcanons of what it’s like dating Jason Todd, featuring nothing but sweet little moments, domestic fluff, and way too much sugar. ꒱

Eeek! (๑❛ᴗ❛๑) !!! first time writing for DC, hehe !! I definitely want to write more of these soon <3

Slow dancing together while you’re supposed to be cooking .ᐟ.ᐟ

The apartment had officially become more Jason’s than yours, his presence was literally found into every square inch of the apartment space.

His heavy leather jackets were always seen hanging on the entryway hooks, his muddy boots sat by the door, and his distinct scent of cedarwood, a distinctive scent of gun oil, and expensive cologne that you bought him, clung to the pillows in your bedroom. Books that the both of you owned were neatly placed and organized in a shared shelf.

In the bathroom, his second toothbrush rested in the holder right next to yours, the sink shared both you and his toiletries like his shaver and your skincare products (that he often steals to use for his own skin) the charcoal body wash lined the tub, next to your body wash and his worn-out leather belts were casually draped over the bedroom chair.

It was basically a home that the both of you shared together.Today was a rare, blessed day off, and for once, you actually felt motivated to cook.You decided that for dinner the both of you will have pasta, a seasoned steak, and a crisp Caesar salad.

To set the mood, you dropped the needle onto the vinyl record, filling the kitchen with the warm, voice of Elvis Presley crooning, “Wise men say, only fools rush in...”

As you stood at the counter intently slicing up the pieces of steak, a pair of massive, heavily scarred arms suddenly wrapped tightly around your waist from behind.

Jason pulled your back flush against his broad chest, burying his face directly into the crook of your neck, his rough stubble scratching lightly against your skin as he let out a deep, contented hum.

"Smells incredible in here, ma," he mumbled against your skin, his voice deep and raspy from sleep before he pressed a warm, lingering kiss right onto your cheek.

You turned slightly in his grip, picking up a perfectly cooked piece of steak to feed him, which he took straight from your fingers with a lazy, boyish smirk.

"Yeah, you're definitely keeping me around, babe," he teased, chewing happily before taking the knife safely from your hand and setting it on the cutting board.

“Hmm, I’ll think about it if you behave.”

He chuckled at your response and turned you around guiding you into a slow, swaying rhythm right there in front of the stove, matching the tempo of the record as he leaned down to give you a soft peck on the lips and a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"You're too good to me," he murmured, his eyes were completely soft, when he looked at you. Right before you could say something sweet back, he leaned down and pressed a kiss on you cheek, forehead and your nose, peppering you with kisses, feeling his lips brush against your skin.

“Jason—too much,” you giggled trying to push him away but he leaned in more and continued to sway you, while laughing freely. The second your eyes met his laughing, you couldn't help but lean into him, pulling his head down by the collar of his shirt.

The playful chaos in the kitchen instantly ground to a halt as Jason caught your waist, locking you against him as your lips met in a deep, breath-stealing kiss that seemed to stretch on forever.

The world outside the apartment completely faded; there was no Red Hood at the moment and no danger to worry about, just the heavy, weight of his chest rising and falling against yours as his mouth moved over yours with a slow, desperate tenderness.

His large hands moved up to cup your jaw, and his thumbs gently wiping across your cheekbones, deepening the kiss until you both were completely breathless, lingering with soft, trailing pecks to each other's lips and noses.

As you finally rested your forehead against his broad chest to catch your breath, and continued to slow dance with the both of you intertwining your hands and you leaning on his chest,the record player crackled softly in the background, bridging the quiet space between you both of you, “But I can't help falling in love with you.”

Jason Todd would do anything to fall in-love with you over and over again.

Lazy mornings .ᐟ.ᐟ

When you wake up hazily, the first thing you notice is the thin streaks of sunlight slipping through the blinds and curtains, painting soft lines across the room.

You turn your head lazily toward the other side of the bed.

Jason is still fast asleep. His dark hair is messy from the night, a faint stubble covering his jaw that he’ll probably complain about later before deciding whether he can be bothered to shave it. His eyelashes flutter slightly with each slow breath, and for a moment, you simply watch him.

The room is completely quiet except for the sound of both of you breathing.Your faces are close enough that the tips of your noses almost touch.You smile faintly then Jason’s eyes slowly open.

He blinks at you a few times, clearly still halfway asleep.

"…Morning."His voice is low and raspy from sleep.

"Morning…"you whisper back, brushing the strands of his hair on his face.

He closes his eyes again for a second, stretching beneath the blankets with a quiet groan before rolling onto his back.

You push yourself up slightly, resting your head against your hand as you look down at him. "You look rough."

Jason cracks one eye open, a slow, lazy smirk tugging at the corner of his lips despite his exhaustion. He doesn't move to defend himself. Instead, he reaches out blindly beneath the covers, his hand finding your waist and tugging you back down toward his chest.

"Rough?" he murmurs, his voice still thick with sleep as he pulls the blanket up over your shoulders. "That’s cold for first thing in the morning."

He buries his face into your hair, breathing in deeply and letting out a contented sigh that vibrates against you.

"If I look rough, it's your fault anyway," he mumbles against the top of your head, his grip tightening just enough to keep you from escaping. "Five more minutes. Please princess. Don't move….”

You let out a soft laugh and let your weight fall back down, melting into his chest. The warmth of the blankets and his arms around you makes it incredibly easy to give up on the idea of being productive anytime soon.

Jason hums in approval, his chest rising and falling beneath you as he rests his chin on top of your head. One of his large hands starts to lazily trace slow circles on your back, his fingers warm through your shirt.

"Thanks ma," he murmurs, his eyes closed again.

The room is still completely still, the world outside wrapped in early morning quiet, making it feel like the two of you are the only people awake.

Lazy evenings .ᐟ.ᐟ

Moments like this are incredibly rare with Jason. Usually, once the sun goes down, Gotham calls him away, and the Red Hood takes over the night. Having him here, completely off-duty and staying over, feels like a hard-won luxury you both desperately needed.

Now, the room is bathed in the warm, ambient glow of a bedside lamp. The two of you are propped up against a mountain of pillows, completely relaxed and wrapped in a hilariously domestic scene. Both of you are wearing thick, clay facemasks, and a large bowl of fresh, cut-up fruit sits directly between you on the mattress as a shared snack.

You each have a book in hand, turning pages in a comfortable, rhythmic silence. Jason shifts slightly, his shoulder brushing against yours as he reaches into the bowl. He blindly stabs a piece of pineapple with a fork, carefully navigating it past the stiff edge of his mask. He chews thoughtfully before glancing over at your book.

"Are ya actually reading,hm?" he asks, his voice funny and muffled because the mask makes it impossible to move his face, "cause i swear you are you just staring at the same paragraph.."

You smile, keeping your face as still as possible to avoid cracking the hardened mask, and nudge his arm with your elbow. "Yes Jay..i’m reading" you responded then nudge his shoulder, "Can I have a strawberry, please?" you ask, your voice just as restricted as his.

Jason lets out a low huff that sounds suspiciously like a laugh. He sets his book down on his lap, leaning over the fruit bowl to inspect the options. With mock seriousness, he sifts through the pieces until he finds the largest, reddest strawberry in the pile, skewering it carefully with the fork.

He turns toward you, bringing the fruit up to your lips. His eyes are bright with amusement, watching you intently to make sure he doesn't accidentally smash the strawberry into the white skincare cream plastered across your cheeks. "Open wide," he teases quietly, his hand perfectly steady as he guides the snack into your mouth.

You swallow the strawberry and hum in appreciation, leaning back against the pillows to flip the page of your book. For a few minutes, the only sound in the room is the crisp rustle of paper and the hum of the really not quite Gotham city far below. Jason picks his own book back up, but his attention seems to wander, his eyes darting from the text to the fruit bowl and then back to you.

Finally, he nudges your knee with his foot beneath the heavy blankets. "Can you give me one too..," he says, his voice flat but a distinct glint of mischief in his eyes. He taps his chest with the corner of his book, gesturing toward the bowl. "I want one of the grapes. The big green ones."

You look up from your page, raising an eyebrow at his demanding tone. Instead of picking up the fork, you intentionally take your time, closing your book halfway and setting it down. You lean over the bowl, slowly scanning the fruit as if searching for the absolute perfect grape just to make him wait.

It took a few minutes, and then you finally skewer a large, plump green grape, you lift it up between you. Jason leans in slightly, his eyes locked on the fruit, his mouth open just enough to accept it without disrupting the stiff edges of his hardening facemask.

You flinch in surprise as Jason’s teeth gently snap down around the grape, intentionally catching the tips of your fingers in the process. He doesn't bite hard enough to hurt, just a playful, sharp nip to catch you off guard, his eyes crinkling at the corners with silent laughter as he pulls back to chew.

"Hey!" you hiss, immediately pulling your hand back and The sudden movement breaks the stiff barrier of your skincare routine, and you feel the hardened mask crack sharply along your jawline and cheeks.

Jason notices immediately. He swallows the grape and lets out a muffled, triumphant laugh that causes his own mask to split across his forehead. "Serves you right for making me wait," he mumbles, his voice entirely unbothered by the fact that pieces of dried clay are now flaking off his face and landing on his shirt. He leans his head back against the pillows, looking thoroughly pleased with himself.

Then you hit his forearm as you made your way to the bathroom to wash off the mask so, leaving Jason reading his book peacefully. Practically not caring that he was making the bed sheets dirty.

Nightmares…

Jason would crash at your place after his “work.” You’d gotten used to finding him asleep on the couch to not bother you going to the room but you told tell him you like to sleep when he was right by your side, he agrees after a long talk.

He would his jacket thrown over the armrest and his boots abandoned by the door. Most nights, he slept heavily and comfortably embracing you.

Tonight was different. It started as a peaceful slumber then a night mare occupied his mind. His dream came in fragments—faces, places, memories overlapping obver and over again his death the larazus pit , everything and everuone until he couldn’t tell where one ended and another began. Different versions of himself seemed to flash past him, each one carrying the same burden and pain and suffering

Then Jason woke with a sharp gasp.He sat upright, breathing hard. For a few seconds, he didn’t seem to recognize the room.

His hands trembled as he looked around, trying to convince himself that he was awake. His breathing remained uneven, and his eyes quickly filled with tears he couldn’t quite hold back.

You stirred beside him, hearing him gasp out loudly.

"Jason?" He looked over towards you and his composure cracked.

He covered his face, shoulders shaking as quiet sobs escaped him. He tried to turn away, embarrassed that you’d seen him like this.

"I’m fine," he managed to say, "go back to sleep, hm?"

But it was cracked by muffled sobs you didnt know what to say but reach over to him and hugged him and soothing him while he sobs. Hearing his voice break into those heavy, muffled sobs completely tore at your heart, making any words feel entirely too small for the amount of pain he was in.

You just moved. You reached across the mattress, closing the distance between you, and wrapped your arms tightly around his trembling shoulders.

Jason stiffened for a fraction of a second, his defensive instincts flaring out of habit, trying to push you away or turn his face further into his hands. But you didn't let go. You held on firmly, pulling his heavy frame against you until he finally collapsed into the embrace. His hands clutched desperately at the fabric of your shirt, burying his face into your neck as the dam broke completely.

You rocked him slowly in the quiet darkness of the room, running a soothing hand up and down his back. You pressed your lips gently to his hair, whispering soft words of comforts against his crown while his chest heaved against yours.

"I've got ya Jay," you whispered softly, your hand moving in slow, steady circles against his back. "You're right here with me. You're safe, Jay. I've got you. I love you.."

Jason didn't answer, his grip tightening convulsively on your shirt as another wave of heavy sobs racked his broad shoulders. He buried his face deeper into the crook of your neck, his hot breath and tears dampening your skin.

"I'm sorry," he choked out, his voice completely raw and broken, the words catching painfully in his throat. "I'm so... I didn't mean to—"

"Shh, don't apologize," you interrupted gently, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his messy hair. "You don't ever have to apologize to me for this."

You continued to rock him gently . Slowly, his heartbeat began to ease, slowly. His grip on your shirt loosened just a fraction, and his heavy frame melting completely into your embrace as utter exhaustion took over.

His breathing slowed, turning into long, deep sighs against your neck until his trembling finally stopped. With his head still resting heavily against your chest, Jason drifted back to sleep, finally finding peace in the safety of your arms.

His hands are always all over you .ᐟ.ᐟ

The thing about Jason is that he always needs a point of contact with you. For a man whose life is defined by the violence and chaos of Gotham, your warmth comforts him dearly, and his hands are constantly finding ways to stay tethered to you.

When you are walking through the grocery store together, he holds your hand tightly, swinging your joined fingers back and forth as you playfully argue over which snacks to buy.

If you are at the stove cooking dinner, his arm instinctively snakes around your shoulders, pulling you against his side as he leans over your head to inspect whatever is bubbling in the pan.

Even during mundane moments, like standing around waiting for a takeout order, he will casually bump his shoulder against yours just to remind you he is there.

His touch also comforts you whenever you are feeling anxious. The moment he senses your unease, his hand immediately slides down to wrap around yours, his thumb tracing slow, soothing circles against your knuckles until your breathing evens out.

He is really attentive, too—if your clothes get caught or shift uncomfortably while you walk, he will gently reach over to help straighten the fabric before continuing down the street like nothing happened.

Whether you are wearing a skirt, shorts, or jeans, his hand always finds its placement on your thigh the second the two of you sit down outside. And whenever it is time to leave a place, he always gives your hand one final, lingering squeeze before letting go.

Sometimes, you will catch him looking at you right afterward.

"What is it?" you ask, noticing his gaze.

"Nothing," he murmurs.

"You're staring at me, Jay."

Jason just grins, completely unbothered by getting caught. He reaches for your hand again, lifting it to his lips to press a soft kiss against your skin. "Can't I look at my pretty, and smart girlfriend?"

Before you can even reply to his teasing, Jason leans in and presses a soft, lingering kiss directly to your lips. It is a complete shift from his usual cocky grin—gentle, slow, and full of a quiet warmth that always catches you a little off guard.

His free hand moves up to cradle the side of your face, his thumb softly brushing across your cheekbone as if he is handling something incredibly precious.

When he finally pulls back just an inch, his eyes are softened, entirely focused on you. He doesn't immediately let go; instead, he keeps his hand resting against your cheek.

"Come on," he murmurs softly, his thumb giving your cheek one last gentle squeeze before his hand slides down to lock fingers with yours again. He subtly shifts his posture, stepping slightly ahead of you to guide you through the crowd, keeping himself between you and the busy street like it's second nature.

Matching or coordinated fits that make you both look effortlessly cool plus takings pics .ᐟ.ᐟ

Jason loves to match with you, you didn’t even need to ask, the both of you started matching unknowingly—must be a couple thing…even if he pretends he just threw on the first thing he saw. When you head out together, your styles always matched.

Like that one time you pull on a pair of baggy, light-wash denim jeans and wore ballet flats and a fitted, a plain top and a leather jacket .

Jason understood the assignment, He grabs his heavy, beat-up black leather jacket, layering it over a simple white tee and matching baggy grey pants.

The two of you walk through the city, his arm stays wrapped securely around your shoulders. You stop in front of a mirrored storefront, and he pulls you in close against his leather jacket, flashing a rare, cocky smile as you snap a quick picture for the camera roll.

Stealing your boyfriend's clothes was a habit that you started doing . You don’t have anything to wear? You’ll open his side of the closet and use his shirts. You liked doing it specially in the morning hours after spending the night together.

"Jason, come over, let's take a picture," you hummed, your voice still a little soft from sleep.You lifted your phone horizontally, framing the two of you perfectly in the glass.

You were wearing his oversized graphic tee, while Jason stepped up close behind you, entirely shirtless and towering over you.

However, before your thumb can even hit the shutter button to take the photo, Jason disrupts the pose.

He leaned down, burying his face against your neck to press a warm, lingering kiss right along your jawline. His hands immediately found their placement; one large palm slid around your waist, his fingers gripping your hip firmly to pull your back completely flush against his chest, while his other hand rested securely on your thigh.

"Jason, stop!" you giggled, your shoulder rising to shield your neck from his scratchy morning scruff.

"Don't care about that right now, babe" he mumbled into your skin.

"I mean it!" You tried to wiggle out of his grip, but his hold on your hip only tightened playfully. "Let go, Jay !"

"Oh, you want me to let go?" A dangerous, amused spark lit up his eyes in the mirror reflection. Before you could answer, his fingers shifted from a firm grip into a chaotic wiggling motion right against your ribs.

You gasped, a loud, breathless laugh bursting out of you as your knees buckled."Jason, no! Don't you dare—"He didn't give you a choice.

Hooking his arms around you, he used his weight to intentionally topple both of you backward. You hit the mattress with a soft thud, the phone flying out of your hand and landing somewhere in the tangled sheets.

Jason hovered directly over you, a wicked smirk on his face as his hands immediately found your most ticklish spots."Please! Stop! I give up !" you shrieked, twisting and turning beneath him, your hands uselessly trying to swat his wrists away as tears of laughter pricked your eyes.

"You know..," he muttered beneath his lips, his fingers digging lightly into your sides, keeping you pinned to the mattress."

"You know what?" You gasped for air, your face completely flushed."

"my shirts look better on the floor too." Then leaned in to give you a kiss, maybe it will be a long day for the both of you.

Protecting you from those fuck ass guys.

Jason is a lot of things, but patient with anyone disrespecting you is absolutely not one of them. Growing up on the streets of Gotham gave him a zero-tolerance policy for scum, and the fact that HE IS…Red Hood, could get words when someone disrespects you.

The first time it happened, you were just walking a few paces ahead of him at a local night market while he stopped to pay a vendor.

A couple of sketchy guys cornered you, blocking your path and throwing out disgusting, aggressive catcalls. Before you could even leave immediately , a massive, heavy shadow loomed over you.

Jason didn't say a single word. He just stepped directly between you and them, his eyes dead and freezing cold.

He cracked his knuckles, the sound loud in the sudden silence, and stared them down until their smirks completely vanished. They took one look at his broad shoulders and the sheer promise of violence in his posture and literally stumbled over their own feet trying to run away.

And just asked if you were okay and how you shouldn’t leave his side.

But the most intense time was a few weeks later outside a diner late at night. One drunk, arrogant jerk refused to take no for an answer, actually reaching out to grab your wrist when you tried to walk past him.

You didn't even have time to look or scream, since Jason came on his feet quickly.

In a split second, he had the guy’s wrist twisted behind his back, forcing him to his knees with a sickening crack.

The guy’s buddy tried to throw a punch at Jason’s face, initiating a full-blown fist fight—which was honestly pathetic, because Jason is a trained weapon and this guy was absolute scum. And this was genuinely so pathetic and he dealt with words.

Jason effortlessly dodged the wild swing, ducking low before driving a brutal, heavy hook right into the guy's jaw.

The jerk went down instantly, hitting the pavement like a sack of bricks. Jason didn't even break a sweat. He stepped over the groaning mess, grabbed the collar of the first guy who had touched you, and slammed him against the brick wall.

"If I ever see your face again," Jason hissed, his voice dropping into a terrifying tone that made the guys visibly shake, "they won't find enough of you to bury. Clear?"

The guy nodded frantically, tears welling in his eyes from pure terror. Jason dropped him like trash, entirely unbothered, and immediately turned back to you.

The guy nodded frantically, tears welling in his eyes from pure terror. Jason dropped him like trash, entirely unbothered, and immediately turned back to you. With a murderous glare completely melted off his face the second his eyes landed on you.

He rushed over, his large hands gently cupping your face, his fingers searching for any scratches. "Did he hurt you? You okay?" he asked, his voice suddenly soft, sweet, and frantic with worry.

Once you assured him you were fine, he pulled you into a tight, crushing hug, pressing a fierce kiss to the top of your head while the jerks scrambled away in the background.

Jason's grip on your hand is incredibly tight, almost white-knuckled, as the two of you walk away from the diner.

You can feel the adrenaline still pulsing through his veins. His broad shoulders are tense, set in a rigid line, and his eyes are still scanning the dark alleyways, his jaw clenched so hard you can see the muscle ticking.

You know exactly what just happened. If you hadn't been standing right there, those guys wouldn't have just walked away with a few broken bones and bruises.

Jason could have killed them on the spot without blinking.

"Jay," you say softly, pulling back gently on his hand to slow his frantic pace. "Jason, stop for a second. Look at me."

He halts, turning his body toward you, but his eyes are still darting around. You step closer, placing your free hand flat against his chest, right over his racing heart. You feel the heavy, thudding rhythm against your palm. You begin to trace slow, deliberate circles over his shirt, using the same soothing touch he always uses to ground you when you're anxious.

"I'm okay. See? I'm right here," you whisper, looking up into his tense face. "You protected me. You got them away from me. But it's over now. You can let it go."

Jason stares down at you, his chest heaving as he takes a deep, ragged breath.

The rigid tension drains from his posture, and his tight grip on your fingers softens into a gentle, lingering squeeze. He leans his forehead down against yours, closing his eyes as he lets out a long, shuddering sigh, utterly relieved that you are safe in his arms.

Motorcycle rides just to go get burgers .ᐟ.ᐟ

You look up at him, your fingers still tracing the warm skin of his back as you give him your best pleading look. "Jason, can we go ride out? Please?" you begged him.

Jason lets out a low rumble of a laugh, his lips brushing against your jawline again before he pulls back just enough to look down at you. He tries to look firm, but the fond glint in his eyes completely gives him away. "It’s freezing outside, and you’re currently wearing nothing but my t-shirt," he points out, though a lazy smirk is already playing on his lips.

"But I want burgers," you counter, leaning into his chest. "And I want to go fast."

That does it. Jason defeats easily when it comes to you—and food. "Fine," he groans playfully, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. "But you're bundling up. I'm talking heavy socks, jeans, and my backup leather jacket. I'm not letting my girlfriend freeze on the back of my bike."

Ten minutes later, the lazy apartment aesthetic is replaced by heavy layers. You are securely zipped into a jacket that smells deeply of him, your helmet clicking into place. Jason leads you down to the garage, his sleek, dark motorcycle gleaming under the fluorescent lights. The engine roars to life with a powerful, deep rumble that vibrates right through your chest.

Jason mounts the bike, kicking the stand back, and looks over his shoulder at you. "Hop on."

You climb onto the seat behind him, immediately sliding your arms around his waist. Even through the thick leather of his jacket, you lock your fingers together tightly, pressing your chest flat against his broad back. Jason reaches down with one gloved hand, giving your joined fingers a firm, reassuring squeeze—his favorite point of contact—before gripping the handlebars.

"Hold on tight," he calls back over the roar of the engine.

With a twist of his wrist, the bike shoots out of the garage and into the cool Gotham evening. The wind whips past you in a blur of city lights, the adrenaline making you squeeze him just a little tighter.

Jason pulls the motorcycle into the gravel parking lot of a retro, neon-lit burger joint on the edge of the district.

The engine dies with a deep, sputtering purr, leaving only the hum of the overhead lights. Before you can even reach for your straps, Jason is already off the bike. He steps up close, his gloved hands reaching out to unclip your helmet. He slides it off gently, shaking his head with a smirk at your messy helmet hair before leaning down to press a warm, lingering kiss right onto your forehead.

"Told you it'd be freezing," he teases, rubbing his hands up and down your leather-clad arms to warm you up.

He grabs your hand—finger locked tightly in his—and pulls you inside. The place is empty except for an older guy flipping patties behind the counter. Jason orders for both of you, paying in crumpled cash, and you collapse into a vinyl booth

The food comes out hot, wrapped in greasy paper: massive, juicy cheesecakes and a mountain of salty crinkle-cut fries. The two of you eat quickly, talking in quiet bursts, sharing fries, and laughing as Jason tries to explain a ridiculous argument he had with Dick earlier in the week.

Once the food is gone, Jason doesn't immediately move to head back home. He looks out the window at the darkening Gotham skyline, a thoughtful look crossing his face. "Come on," he says, pulling his gloves back on. "I want to show you something."

You ride out again, but this time, he avoids the highway leading back to your apartment. Instead, the bike climbs a steep, winding access road, leaving the neon noise of the city streets behind. The air gets sharper and colder until he finally kills the engine at the edge of an abandoned, structurally sound railway overlook.

When you take off your helmet, the view steals your breath. The entirety of Gotham is spread out below you like a massive grid of glowing amber, yellow, blue, and white lights, reflecting off the dark, glassy water of the river. It’s beautiful, quiet, and completely removed from the chaos down below.

Jason walks up behind you, wrapping his arms securely around your waist and pulling your back against his chest. He rests his chin on your shoulder, his breath warm against your neck. "I come up here sometimes" he murmurs quietly, his fingers squeezing yours. "Wanted to bring you. Happy girl, happy life, right?"

Him and his “work” life .ᐟ.ᐟ

Jason knows exactly how much you worry about him. He knows that every time he puts on the Red Hood helmet and disappears into the Gotham night, your chest tightens with anxiety.

You lose sleep torturing yourself with terrifying what-if scenarios—fearing he’ll get brutally hurt, or worse, that he won't make it back to you at all. And Jason harbors that exact same paralyzing fear for you. He knows that the world full of shady underworld dealings and violent enemies, and the thought of anyone targeting you just to get to him keeps him up at night.

Because he is "legally unemployed" and spends his nights running around as a vigilante, he has to find creative, quiet ways to remind you that he's alive and thinking of you.

When he is out on patrol, perched on some freezing Gotham rooftop, he’ll pull out his phone just to send you a quick, completely out-of-context text to ease your mind.

"Saw a stray cat and dog out together, gave them food. Still alive, don't worry."

"I’m still here, I love ya…miss you too…hope you are sleeping well.

"Just passed that bakery you like. I’ll be home soon, princess."

The next morning, you’ll wake up to find flowers sitting next to your bed side table. Next to it will be a messy, handwritten sticky note in his jagged handwriting: Saw them and thought of my girl. Love you. I always think about you every night.

The Bat-family knows absolutely everything, even when Jason tries his best to keep his private life away from them. They haven’t met you in person yet—Jason is way too protective to drag you into their family dynamic just yet—but they definitely know you exist.

Tim and Dick notice the subtle changes first. During intense briefing sessions at the Batcave, Jason will suddenly glance down at his phone, his rough, scarred face softening into a tiny, genuine smile as he reads a text from you.

"Awhh, Look at him," Dick will whisper loudly to Tim, leaning against the Batcomputer with a massive smirk. "The big, scary Red Hood is blushing at his phone again. Who knew Gotham's most ruthless vigilante had a soft spot?"

Jason immediately snaps his phone shut, his glare returning instantly. "Shut the hell up, Dick. Focus on the mission before I throw a flashbang at your head."

Even Bruce notices how much more relaxed Jason has been lately, his posture less rigid, his temper a tad bit more controlled. They tease him relentlessly about being a lovesick boyfriend, but deep down, they are all quietly relieved that he finally has someone n, keeping him safe from his own self.

But the reality of loving a vigilante caught up to you one terrifying rainy night.

You were sitting on the couch, jumping at every sound, when a heavy, uncoordinated thud hit your window. You rushed over and pushed it open, gasping as Jason practically collapsed through the frame. He was completely banged up, bleeding heavily from a nasty gash along his ribs, his face bruised and swollen under his cracked helmet. He had been jumped by a crew using advanced weaponry, and he was running entirely on adrenaline.

"Hey, hey, I'm okay," he croaked out, his voice weak and raspy as he staggered into the room, leaning heavily against the wall. "Just... took a bad hit. Had to shake 'em before I came here."

You were absolutely terrified. Your hands were shaking so violently you could barely open the medical kit he kept hidden under the couch. Tears blurred your vision as you forced him onto a chair, immediately peeling back his ruined shirt to inspect the damage. You had never done this before. Seeing his blood on your hands made your heart race so fast you felt sick to your stomach, your worst nightmare staring you right in the face.

"Jason, you're bleeding so much," you sobbed quietly, your fingers trembling as you wiped a bloody cloth across his chest. "I can't... I don't know how to do this.…?"

Despite being the one in agonizing pain, Jason immediately reached up with a bloody, un-gloved hand, gently grasping your wrist to steady you. He looked up through his swollen eyes, his expression incredibly sweet and comforting.

"Look at me, princess. Take a breath," he murmured, his voice softening completely as he tried to calm your panic. "You're doing great. It's just a couple of stitches. Guide the needle right through here. I'm right here with you. I'm not going to die."

Holding your breath, you forced your hands to steady, guided entirely by his gentle, encouraging voice. As you carefully stitched his skin back together, he didn't make a sound just to help you not panic and was completely focused on keeping you calm.

When you finally finished and taped the bandage down, you collapsed against his uninjured shoulder, crying out all the built-up terror from the night. Jason wrapped his strong arms around you, pulling you into his lap and holding you tight against his chest, murmuring endless apologies for scaring you until you both finally drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, the smell of fresh coffee and sizzling bacon wakes you up. You blink your eyes open to find Jason sitting on the edge of the bed, carefully balancing a homemade breakfast tray on his lap. He looks like absolute hell—his eye is bruised purple, his jaw is swollen, and he moves with a stiff wince—but he is sporting a soft, proud smirk.

"Morning, ma," he murmurs, his voice low and raspy. He places the tray over your lap, leaning down to press a gentle, careful kiss to your lips. "Figured it was the least I could do after making you play medic last night." He jokingly said and chuckled.

It is incredibly sweet, and for an hour, you let yourself relax. He feeds you a piece of toast, lets you trace the fresh bandages on his ribs, and his scars while he keeps his hand resting warmly on your thigh.

The second he finishes eating, Jason starts shifting restlessly. He carefully swings his legs out of bed, groaning under his breath as his stitched-up side pulls painfully. He reaches for his heavy black boots by the door.

"What do you think you're doing?" you ask, your voice instantly flattening.

"Just checking my gear," Jason says casually, not making eye contact as he reaches for his leather jacket. "The crew that jumped me last night—they're still out there. I need to go finish the job before they move locations. Oracle gave me a ping."

He actually thinks he's leaving.

"Yeah, no. Absolutely not happening," you say, snapping at him and sliding out of bed. You march right over, snatching his leather jacket straight out of his hands before he can slide his arms into the sleeves.

"Princess, come on," Jason groans, reaching for the jacket, but his face contorts in pain as the movement tugs at the fresh stitches you spent an hour crying over last night. "I'm fine. I've gone out with worse than this."

"I don't care about your past record, Todd," you say, placing your hands firmly on his uninjured shoulder and pushing him back onto the bed. "You bled all over my floor, you almost passed out in my arms, and your stitches will literally rip open the second you throw a punch. You are staying right here."

Jason stares up at you, completely stunned by your stubbornness. For a second, the dangerous, defiant Red Hood looks like he wants to argue, his jaw clenching tightly. But as he looks at the worried look in your eyes, his broad shoulders slowly deflate. A lazy, defeated grin breaks through his bruised face.

"You're bossy when you're protective, you know that?" he mumbles, letting himself sink back against the pillows. He reaches out, grabbing your wrist and pulling you down onto the mattress right beside him. He wraps his heavy arms securely around your waist, trapping you against his chest so you can't get up either.

Just know that Jason loves you dearly :p

Written by Jammy. Please do not copy and paste or feed my work into an AI. This was completely written by me, thank you for stopping by and reading!

[nnitrous]

you come home tipsy and can’t help showing your boyfriend and his little brother some love | [1.4k] established relationship, reader x platonic!damian, fluff

jason regretted agreeing to your girls' night out as soon as you left, leaving him behind in the absolute silence of your shared apartment.

he was by no means protective or jealous or controlling or anything like that. he actually loved when you dressed up and did your makeup real nicely for the occasion, whether it was for a night out with him or your girlfriends.

but you were going out for dinner with steph and cass which meant no good to begin with, and paired it with the ‘endless mimosas’ the restaurant you were going to was offering, jason was preparing himself for the worst outcome possible. he was not looking forward to bailing you out of jail, again.

an hour into the evening and he was already bored to death. no movie or TV show was fulfilling the hole in his heart that formed when you left him behind. he was being dramatic, but god did he miss you already. and if the night couldn’t get any worse, he had to climb through the window.

"aren’t you supposed to be out on patrol?" jason mumbled without sparing him a glance, voice so void of emotions.

"damn, what got you sulking this bad?"

but jason could only grunt in response as he continued to watch ahead at the stupid reality show playing on the TV that was providing him the tiniest bit of entertainment.

"where is she?" asked damian, settling inside the apartment and closing the window behind. he looked around, trying to find anything that could hint to jason’s visible despair, but your shoes were by the door, your pictures were still on the fridge, and your perfume lingered.

"out."

"oh," he said. he couldn’t lie that he was disappointed, after all he came to see you, not his idiot brother. he didn’t want to go back out there, the night was looking boring and bruce could easily handle himself. if not... well, he was grown enough to.

damian wanted to know more, especially why you were out so late without your boyfriend because everyone knew that you had jason wrapped around your finger so much he’d go everywhere—really, everywhere—with you. it wasn’t unusual for you to run errands alone or hang out with your friends by yourself, but at least it explained why jason looked… like that.

jason made space for him on the couch, silently inviting him to stay. "don’t sit with that on,2 he nodded to his costume. "she washed your clothes from last time, they’re in your room."

it wasn’t really damian’s room. it was more like a spare room that you used half as storage half as your studio, which then turned into a makeshift bedroom for damian whenever he wanted to stay over for the night.

jason was quick to animatedly agree when you proposed to go bed shopping for his brother because ever since damian, like the little shit that he was, accidentally and casually fell asleep at your apartment more often than not, jason had been sleeping on the couch. a hard and uncomfortable second-hand couch you picked up from the side of the street.

it was only fair. you couldn’t let the kid sleep on the couch, the poor boy needed a healthy night of sleep so instead he spent the nights in your bed, while jason laid asleep on the couch with the most visible frown on his face, a frown that lingered even when you’d wake him up the next morning for breakfast. it was fine, jason reassured himself, he didn’t care if you teased him, he got to hear your giggles first thing in the morning.

damian dragged his feet to his room and changed out of his robin costume before walking back to the living room. he sat on the couch, on the opposite end from jason, and stared ahead at the TV waiting patiently for your return. 

the apartment was quiet apart from the sound coming from the TV, not a single word was uttered from either of them since.

damian tried, he really did, to enjoy whatever jason put on the TV but it was the most idiotic thing he had ever seen and truly couldn’t stand hearing another second of it.

"how can you enjoy this idiocy," he complained, getting up from the couch. "can’t believe she’s still with someone wh–"

his words stopped as a pillow hit the back of his head. he didn’t turn around to give jason a nasty look, he didn’t have the energy for it, all he wanted was for you to come home soon so he could spend some time with his favorite person. but he would never admit that. so instead he continued to his room and closed the door behind, isolating himself.

he was right, it was some absurd show that only aired at night because nobody would voluntarily watch something like this, he wasn’t really paying attention to the program in front of him before, but a minute later jason sighed and turned the TV off. time seemed to pass ever so slowly in his eyes. an hour and thirty minutes, that’s how much has passed. he had already texted you to see how the night was going but when no response came after five minutes, he had to add a ‘please don’t be in trouble’. and then you didn’t answer again and he prayed you were okay because the last thing he wanted was to sound like a desperate man.

he might have fallen asleep at some point because his mind was groggy and confused as he blinked his eyes open from the noise you were making. finally, he thought. 

you were fighting with the strap of your heels by the door, growing impatient by the second as it wouldn’t want to come undone, though you could easily blame that on your slightly inebriated current state. jason couldn’t take his eyes off of you, you looked so beautiful with a pout on your lips before meeting his gaze and switching it with a smirk, happily hurrying towards him. 

"hi baby," you whispered, sitting down next to him and cupping his face between your hands. "oh, you’re so warm."

you didn’t leave him time to greet you back or say anything else that you were already peppering his face with kisses, not a single one landing on his lips. every time he angled his face so he could feel his lips on yours, even just one small, quick peck, you simply had other plans. "wait–mmph–baby." there, at last.

"you’re so pretty jay," you said giggling. "my pretty boy."

jason was blushing now, hard. he loved when you got like this, always so eager to show him how much you loved him even though it always got his whole body blushing like a teenager who just got his first girlfriend. he was glad now the only light in the room was dim enough to not let you see his ears growing red by the second and his pink cheeks, because if you could see how gone he was you wouldn’t have stopped teasing him. 

you were so lost in admiring his face that when jason tapped your thigh and nodded behind you, you pouted out of confusion. what was so important for him to stop your affection?

so you turned around in the direction his gaze brought you to, and a gasp left your lips, immediately jumping off the couch, arms open wide. "oh my baby, come here."

damian stood confused and half-asleep by the corridor, rubbing his eye trying to process what was all the noise about, but then he felt a body crash into his, startling him even more. he instinctively tried to pull away, never keen to accept affections from strangers. 

"wha–" his words died on his tongue as a kiss landed on his forehead. he blinked rapidly, stunned by the sudden gesture. you pulled away slightly, giving him enough time to realize that it was just you, with a lopsided smile, smudged lipstick, and a lovesick look in your eyes that would have made damian roll his eyes with disgust if it came from anyone else. 

"i love you so much, dami," you cooed. you pulled him back in your arms, mumbling some nonsense about how cute he looked and how squishy his cheeks were, to the point where you couldn’t help but swing him left and right in your arms.

meanwhile, behind you, jason was sneering from his spot on the couch, ready to tease his brother for the red tips of his ears and his face covered in your sheer kiss prints. and unbeknownst to him, the same smirk damian was sporting was a mirror of his own, as Jason was covered too and blushing like an idiot.

2026 © nnitrous all rights reserved

[laneythebug]

Hey hey hi would love to req a Jason Todd x reader where reader is super clingy to the people they love but tries to not be clingy towards Jason but Jason is sad about it and tries to initiate.. BTW love love loveddd your new Jason fic!!! Super good and amazing spectacular

now playing: “doors” - noah kahan

pairing: jason todd x fem!reader

tags: fluff, hurt/comfort, very brief mention of jason’s past, cuddling, just tooth-rotting fluff

note: hi lovely! this is an adorable request. i had so much fun writing this, enjoy!

you knew deep down jason loved you. you loved jason too.

but being almost four months into your relationship, there was something missing. there was love—verbally, but just not physically.

you weren’t upset; you understood jason’s past. the fact he even let you this close in his life was already a milestone in itself. but you love physical touch. you just want to hug him and kiss him all over without feeling him tense up under your touch. you respected his boundaries—keeping a gap between you guys when you slept, simply holding pinkies when in public, and blowing kisses instead of your lips meeting his face. sometimes it hurt your heart, but then you’d see the grateful smile on his face that made it all worth it.

but jason saw the way your shoulders hung in defeat when you couldn’t run into his arms when he got home, and the minuscule frown on your lips when he didn’t kiss you on the forehead before leaving for patrol. he saw all of it.

it wasn’t like he didn’t trust you—he did, truly and unapologetically. you were one of the only people who loved him, all of him, even the broken parts that he tried so desperately to hide. you understood him in a way no one else was able to. for that reason, he was willing to try—for you and you only.

you were laying on the old leather couch in your apartment. the shirt you had on was riding up, exposed parts of your back sticking to the tacky material of the cushions. you scrolled mindlessly on your phone, blissfully unaware of how late it was getting. the sounds of gotham outside your window now dulling down to a soft whisper of cars driving past every now and then. you blinked away the feeling of sleep weighing down your eyelids as you continued swiping away. it felt wrong sleeping in your bed without jason next to you. he always told you not to wait up for him, that he was not worth compromising your sleep schedule; you never listened. the sound of your front door being unlocked dragged you out of your thoughts.

your boyfriend looked exhausted, his shoulders hunched as he locked the door behind him. he looked over his shoulder and noticed your presence. he sighed—but not in annoyance—he doesn’t think he could ever be truly annoyed with you.

“doll, what are you doing awake?..” he asked, tugging his mask off and setting it on the counter. he couldn’t help the concern that etched his face as he he walked over to you.

“you know i can’t sleep without you here, jay.” you reminded, rising to stand up in front of him. your hands tucked at your sides, even though you wanted nothing more than to caress the side of his face.

he shook his head, a small smile gracing his split lip. “it’s nearly two in the morning.”

“so? it’s a friday!” you replied, as if that made it any better. the wide smile on your face made jason’s heart swell. his eyes were heavy with sleep, the kind of tired that only comes with being a vigilante to the violent streets of gotham. “c’mon, let’s go to sleep.” you offered softly, jason trailed behind you like a lost puppy as you walked into your room. he changed into the clothes you always kept out for him; noticing the way you subconsciously checked over him to make sure he wasn’t too badly hurt. you crawled into bed, practically on the edge of the mattress so he had room to feel comfortable—a habit that developed a month into you two dating.

jason padded his way to the bed, the mattress sinking under his weight and the old bed frame groaning in protest. you both whispered goodnight to each other before you turned off the lamp, submerging the room into darkness.

after a few minutes, jason recognized the sound of your breath leveling out as you drifted off into a deep sleep. even though he was so tired, jason couldn’t fall asleep, his eyes fixed on nothing in particular as he stared up into the darkness.

he just wanted to be close to you.

but what if it made you uncomfortable? what if all of this waiting for the right moment was for nothing? you never once pushed him into anything he was uncomfortable doing. what if he accidentally crosses a line that he didn’t even know existed?

he looked over at you, his eyes adjusting to pitch black as he stared at your sleeping form. your back was facing him, body curled into a fetal position. he was tired of you constantly having to make yourself smaller so he could be happy. he just wanted to hold you.

so he moved carefully. scooting closer to you, an arm cautiously being wrapped around your waist as he pulled you against his chest. you stirred in your sleep, eyes opening at the feeling of warmth against your back.

“jay?…” you asked in a whisper, like if you’d talk too loud you’d scare him away. jason tensed, arm threatening to untangle from you.

“m’sorry i should’ve asked-“

you caught his wrist, “are you okay with this? with holding me?” you response calm as you looked over your shoulder at him.

“…yes.”

you pulled his arm back around your waist, cuddling against him. “then i’m perfectly okay with it.” unable to help the giddiness that laced every word.

jason finally relaxed, tension leaving his body as he curled around you. it was everything you ever dreamed of, all of your patience paying off.

the comfortable silence broke as jason spoke up.

“sweetheart?”

“mhm?”

“thank you..”

“for what?”

“for..waiting for me.”

you squeezed his forearm reassuringly, a smile on your lips.

“thank you for trusting me, jay.”

a soft kiss was pressed to the crown of you head as you both drifted off, finally in each other’s arms.

this was so fun to write, thank you!

[orplid-deactivated20181205]

Joanna Newsom - ‘Have One On Me’

In her own words:

“The photo on the cover of Have One on Me was modeled after typical Orientalist fantasy-figure iconography, like an odalisque or a Venus in Furs—a sort of cartoonish amalgamation of feminine signifiers stylized to illustrate the Lacanian idea “Woman is a symptom of man.” Annabel Mehran, the photographer, used black-and-white film that the artist Becca Mann later hand-tinted over with watercolors. The idea was to mock-up a shabby, 1920s Parisian studio with an absinthe-dulled lady posing on a divan in bits of old drapery fabric, and then paint over the resulting tableau into some idealized, Technicolor, hedonistic fantasy set. The specifically female, earthbound, corporeal, and decadent character in that album art reflects the character of those songs’ narrator as well as the idea of feminine self-diminishment.” -Joanna Newsom

[persianmom]

I need this summer to end immediately because I don’t own summer clothes

[letterful]

[apenitentialprayer]

Am walking through Manhattan, there's a woman who can't be more than 25 in a big fur coat, walking with a cane, angrily saying into her headpiece "I want them them destroyed," I feel like an extra in a movie

[kestalsblog]

Not every story is about seeing yourself in it. Sometimes it’s about learning to see other people too.

[doesnotloveyou]

@tearyeyedcat this was beautifully written, thank you for adding it!

[charlesoberonn]

Another excuse for me to post Head Writer of ATLA Aaron Ehasz’s great characters board: