#dc fanfic

[strawberryscribblesandwrites]

How we feeling about this one so far gang?

[sebystann]

wrong number | dick grayson

pairing: dick grayson x reader genre: fluff, humor, accidental strangers-to-lovers, texting au warnings: alcohol, drunk texting, accidental suggestive photo, secondhand embarrassment

You meant to text the ridiculously attractive guy you met at the bar.

Unfortunately, one wrong digit had other plans.

Instead of flirting with the man who bought you a drink, you spend your night drunkenly blowing up the phone of a complete stranger named Dick.

Eight unanswered texts.

One very questionable photo.

And a man on the other end desperately trying to convince you that he is absolutely not the guy you met tonight.

The worst part?

By the time you realize your mistake, Dick Grayson is already a little too amused by you.

⋆｡ﾟ✶°‧ 🦋 ‧°✶｡ﾟ⋆ ───────────────────────── ⋆｡ﾟ✶°‧ 🦋 ‧°✶｡ﾟ⋆

[vixenalcott]

looking out for you, like i always dooo.

-part three of oh yeah? (not proofread)

tim found you because he was on patrol.

after your argument, he stormed into the bat-cave and donned his suit. in the middle of patrol, he felt…guilty, so he walked to a building a block away from where you were. he used his goggles to zoom in, to see if you were there so he could apologize.

the good news? you were.

the bad news? you were half dead, unconscious on the cement. 

so he ran to the building.

feet on concrete, he practically flew to get to you, and when he arrived, he dropped to his knees, his hands flying  to the gun wound, eyes wide with fear and..regret? cradling you up in his chest, whispering softly.

“what did you do?”

so that’s how you ended up on his couch, feeling a hand in yours and a pain in your ribs. 

you blinked slowly, eyes catching on to tim, who was sitting on the floor beside the couch, hand in yours, head tilted back. you paused, and looked down at yourself. you weren’t in the suit anymore, but in his gotham U shirt and his pjs. you squinted, and poked his cheek until his eyelashes fluttered, and he turned to you, extending his arms over his head. 

“you’re awake.”

“..why am in your shirt?”

he stood, standing in his tiptoes and stretching his legs. “because your suit was bloody and i needed to patch you up. simple.”

you lifted the shirt, your eyes looking at the bandage wrapped around your lower stomach.

“..how did i get into your shirt?” he smirked, mouth half opened before you cut him off. “and don’t make a knight and day reference.”

he paused, then shrugged. “you’re welcome.”

against your injury, you tried to get up, before a sharp pain and surrendering, groaning in discomfort.

“be careful, spidey,” he spoke with a grin.

you rolled your eyes and threw a pillow at him, which he caught. “too late, idiot.”

his chuckle faded into something more softer as your shirt rode up to expose the bandage.

“look, i’m sorry.”

“it’s fine–“

“let me finish.”

you pressed your lips into a straight line. he nodded. 

“thanks. look, what i said was..out of line. i shouldn’t have said that and i definitelyshouldn’t have confronted you about it when i did the same thing.”

you looked at him, his blue eyes filled with remorse. “i forgive you.”

he scoffs. “seriously?”

“i’m being serious!”

he stares at you for a long time, then shrugs. “okay.”

he grabs the remote and you break the silence. “thanks for saving me.”

“no problem.” he was still on netflix’s search bar, typing.

“y’know,” you lean back, “if it wasn’t for you, i’d have bled out and–“

“no,” his jaw clenches, “don’t do that.”

despite yourself you chuckle, and ruffle his hair. “as much as i love you, you’ll never be nikki freeman.”

he chuckled too, yet despite his easy demeanor, his mind was spiraling upon finding out that you loved him. 

if he was honest, he had always loved you.

even before he found out you were spiderwoman, and before you became best friends.

and when war dog’s opening scene played and you grabbed your phone to order in, one hand still in his hair, he knew one thing for sure;

he was going to tell you he loved you. he was going to hold you in his arms and explain everything; how he became red robin, how long he’d been robin, he was going to answer all your questions and hope you’d still love him.

but not now, 

not yet.

notes: this is ahh i’m sorry 😭 i’m glad i got a request, though! thank you to the anon who requested this🫰🫰

[diamond-eyez]

────୨ৎ────

✩ COWBOY!JASON TODD who loves reverse cowgirl. Who loves to see your ass bouncing on his cock as you moan his name with your head thrown back. The dip in your spine is highlighted by the light shining in through the sheer curtains in the bedroom, the soft morning glow making you look angelic as you use him for your pleasure.

"Fuck, Jason," you pant, your hair mussed with sleep still and stirring with each rise and decent on him, your pussy fluttering in soft pulses that have him groaning softly behind you. He lays back against the pillows, sleep still clinging to the edges of his consciousness and blurring with pleasure, making his eyes roll back along with his head against the cushions.

"Thats right, darlin'" he'd drawl into his bicep that he threw over his flushed face, soft moans slipping out between his praise at your movements. His free hand holds your hip as you grind yourself deeper onto him, squeezing in an attempt to control himself, but his efforts are futile.

He starts whimpering soon after, whining between soft pants, and you look back to see his face as you pick up your pace. His eyes are wet with tears of pleasure, face completely blissed out like yours as he bites his lips red.

"Fuck, baby, please-" he groans, his hips now bucking into you and making you mewl as he prods at that gummy spot inside you and makes your eyes fall back into your head. "You feel so damn good, angel-"

"Jason-!" You cry, and he almost cums on the spot at your needy voice calling for him. He brings both hands to your hips now, calloused palms scratching agsinst your skin and slamming you down onto his cock as you both feel your climaxes tightening in your bellies.

"Cum for me, darlin'. I wanna feel you-mmph-" he moans, his hips thrusting faster into you, and you cum only a fee seconds later. You cry his name, back arched and tensed so beautiful for him to see the soft definition in it as he fills you. Thick white ropes of his climax fill you quickly, making you feel full as he stays inside after.

He sits up then, catching you as you fall back agsinst his chest, sweat slicked skin sticking to each other as you both come down from ypur highs. He wraps his burly arms around you, tucking his face into your warm neck as he breathes deeply. You feel him smile against your skin.

"I guess all those riding lessons paid off, huh, sweetheart?" He slurs, then chuckles as you elbow him in the ribs, not even hurting him since you cant focus on anything but his half hard cock still inside you, cum oozing out around him.

You honestly couldnt imagine yourself anywhere but right here, in the throes of pleasure with him, and he felt the same. He'd definitely be giving you more riding lessons from now on.

────୨ৎ────

I wanna do more cowboy Jason. Perhaps him as an outlaw... im tempted

[fancy-possum]

BROKEN CHARACTER ◞ Jason Todd

You and Jason Todd decide to try a little roleplay to keep things interesting. It lasts approximately four minutes..

cw: explicit smut, fingering, piv, dirty but affectionate!

masterlist ◞ follow me for more! ◞ reqs open

The idea had been yours.

“We should try roleplay,” you had said one night, half-joking, while the two of you were tangled on the couch. Jason had raised an eyebrow over the rim of his beer, the scar through his brow catching the low light.

“Roleplay.”

“Yeah. Like… scenarios. Costumes optional. Just something different.”

He had considered it for a long moment, then shrugged with that crooked almost-smile that always meant trouble. “Alright. I’m game. But if it gets weird I’m blaming you.”

That was how you ended up here — three days later, standing in the middle of your bedroom in a deliberately chosen outfit that felt equal parts ridiculous and hot, trying very hard to stay in character while Jason leaned against the doorframe looking like every bad decision you’d ever wanted to make.

The scenario was simple. You were the civilian who had somehow ended up in Red Hood’s safehouse. He was supposed to be the dangerous anti-hero deciding whether you were a threat or a distraction. There had even been a vague script. Jason had drawn the line at actual helmets indoors, but he was wearing the leather jacket and the red bat on his chest, and the domino mask was pushed up into his hair like he’d forgotten it was there.

It should have worked.

It lasted less than five minutes.

“You shouldn’t have followed me,” Jason started, voice deliberately lower, trying for the gravelly Red Hood tone. He took one step closer. “People who follow me don’t usually walk out again.”

You opened your mouth to deliver your line about not being afraid of him.

What came out instead was, “God, your arms look insane in that jacket.”

Jason’s serious expression cracked immediately. “That’s not the line.”

“I know, but look at them.”

He glanced down at his own biceps like he’d never seen them before, then back at you, fighting a grin. “You’re supposed to be scared.”

“I’m supposed to be a lot of things. Right now I’m mostly distracted.”

Jason took another step forward, trying to salvage it. “You picked the wrong person to get curious about, sweetheart. Now I’ve got to decide what to do with you.”

The line was good. His delivery was decent. The problem was that the second he got close enough for you to smell his cologne mixed with leather, your brain short-circuited. Instead of playing along you reached out, fisted your hands in the front of his jacket, and pulled him down into a kiss that had nothing to do with the scenario and everything to do with how badly you wanted him.

Jason made a surprised noise against your mouth, then kissed you back hard, the roleplay already forgotten. His hands found your waist, then your ass, dragging you flush against him. When he pulled back he looked dazed and a little accusing.

“We were doing something.”

“We still are.” You nipped at his lower lip. “Just better.”

“You’re terrible at this.”

“You’re the one who stopped using the voice the second I touched you.”

Jason’s eyes narrowed. He tried one more time, voice dropping again. “Maybe I should teach you a lesson about sneaking around where you don’t belong—”

You interrupted him by sliding one hand down and palming him through his jeans.

Whatever threat he’d been building died in a rough exhale. “Fuck.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, already working his belt open. “That’s the idea.”

The jacket hit the floor first. Then the shirt. Jason gave up on the scenario with a low, frustrated laugh and walked you backward until the backs of your knees hit the bed. You bounced onto the mattress and he followed, crowning over you, mouth already at your throat.

“We lasted maybe four minutes,” he muttered against your skin. “New record for worst roleplay ever.”

“Speak for yourself. I think it’s going great.”

He bit down lightly at the junction of your neck and shoulder in retaliation, then soothed the spot with his tongue. His hands were already under your top, shoving it up and off. The second your bra followed he made a low, appreciative sound and ducked his head to get his mouth on your breasts, licking and sucking until your back arched.

“Still want to play dangerous vigilante?” you managed, fingers threading into his hair.

“Want to play ‘get these pants off before I lose my mind,’” he shot back, already working the button open.

You lifted your hips to help. The rest of your clothes joined the growing pile on the floor. Jason sat back just long enough to shove his own jeans and underwear down, and the sight of him fully hard and already leaking made your mouth water. He noticed you looking and gave himself one slow stroke, eyes dark.

“Like what you see, civilian?”

“Don’t you dare try to get back into character now.”

Jason grinned, sharp and boyish, and crawled back over you. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

He kissed you again, deeper this time, while one hand slid between your legs to find you already wet. The first brush of his fingers dragged a soft sound out of your throat. He swallowed it and kept going — circling your clit with deliberate pressure, then sliding two fingers inside and curling them exactly the way he knew you liked. The wet sound of it filled the quiet room.

“Jason—”

“I’ve got you.” He worked you open with focused attention, mouth moving down your jaw, your throat, the tops of your breasts. When he added a third finger and rubbed harder against the spot that made your thighs shake, you clenched around him with a broken moan.

“Missed this,” he muttered. “Missed how easy you get for me. Roleplay didn’t stand a chance.”

You tried to come up with a comeback and failed when he crooked his fingers just right. The only thing that came out was his name again, higher this time. Jason watched your face like it was his favourite show, pupils blown, lips parted.

“That’s it. Let me hear you.”

You came on his hand with a sharp cry, hips rolling, nails digging into his shoulders. Jason groaned like the sight of it hurt him in the best way and kept working you through it until the sensitivity made you push at his wrist. He withdrew his fingers slowly, then brought them to his mouth and licked them clean without breaking eye contact.

“Show-off,” you panted.

“You love it.”

He wasn’t wrong.

Jason reached for the condom in the nightstand with the single-minded focus of a man who had completely abandoned every other plan for the evening. You watched him roll it on, then pulled him back down by the shoulders. The first push of his cock inside you dragged matching sounds from both of you. He bottomed out and stayed there for a second, forehead against yours, breathing hard.

“Still thinking about the scenario?” he asked, voice strained.

“What scenario?”

Jason huffed a laugh that turned into a groan when you clenched around him on purpose. He started moving — deep, steady strokes that made the bedframe creak. One of his hands braced by your head; the other gripped your hip hard enough to bruise in the best way. Every thrust punched little punched-out sounds from your throat that he chased with his mouth.

“Fuck, you feel good,” he muttered against your lips. “Should’ve just done this from the start.”

“Told you the roleplay was a bad idea.”

“You suggested it.”

“And then I got distracted by your arms. Not my fault.”

Jason laughed again, breathless, and snapped his hips harder in retaliation. The new angle made your eyes roll back. He noticed immediately and stayed there, grinding deep while one hand slipped between you to rub tight circles over your clit. The dual sensation built fast and mean.

“Come on,” he urged, voice rough. “Want to feel it. Want you to come on my cock while you’re still trying to talk shit.”

You didn’t stand a chance.

The second orgasm hit harder than the first. You clenched around him with a broken moan of his name, thighs shaking, and Jason followed almost immediately — burying himself deep and coming with a low, gritty curse against your neck. His whole body shuddered through it. For a long moment afterward the only sound was the two of you trying to remember how to breathe.

Eventually Jason pulled out carefully, dealt with the condom, and collapsed beside you like his strings had been cut. You both stared at the ceiling in post-orgasm silence for a few seconds.

Then he started laughing.

It was the real laugh — the one that cracked out of him when something genuinely caught him off guard. You turned your head to look at him and felt your own grin spreading.

“Four minutes,” he managed between laughs. “We gave the roleplay four whole minutes before you jumped me.”

“You jumped me back.”

“Obviously. Have you seen you?” He rolled onto his side and propped himself up on one elbow, still grinning, hair a disaster, pants and jacket probably somewhere on the floor. “Next time we’re skipping the script. Just getting straight to the part where I get you naked.”

“Deal.” You reached up and poked the dimple that appeared when he smiled like that. “You’re a terrible actor anyway.”

“And you’re a terrible civilian in distress.” He caught your hand and pressed a kiss to the palm, softer than the rest of the night had been. “Lucky for both of us we’re pretty good at this part.”

You shifted closer until your head was on his chest, listening to the gradual slowing of his heartbeat. Jason’s arm settled around you, heavy and warm. The leather jacket was still in a heap by the door. The scenario was dead and buried. Neither of you missed it.

Outside, the city kept its usual noise.

Inside, Jason Todd — failed roleplayer, excellent distraction, man currently running his fingers absently through your hair — pressed a lazy kiss to the top of your head and decided that some plans were better off abandoned.

Especially when abandoning them felt this good.

a/n: first fic in a few days I hope u guys don’t hate me pls

[hauntedhouseofhorrors]

birthday surprise ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ jason todd

word count: 1.8k+

content warnings: domestic fluff, negative self-talk on jason's end, mentions of scars, jason cries, mentions of marriage, he's living for the first time too 🥹, some suggestive points cause i'm just overly freaked out

check out my other work here! | join my taglist here!

the clock strikes midnight, but your burly boyfriend is fast asleep.

you want to be upset at the fact that your plan to bombard him with birthday kisses has backfired, but you really can't find it in yourself. not when soft breaths puff past his lips and kiss the delicate valley of your chest.

so, you pivot. you're in a light state of sleep when the sun starts to embrace the horizon.

with the excitement coursing through your veins, one would think that it was your birthday instead. but it's the mere joy of taking care of the man you love ― celebrating him.

jason todd doesn't do birthday celebrations, much less surprises. it was a completely foreign concept to him until you came around.

you urged him to join in on the fun of many holidays.

on new years, you huddled together in the space of your penthouse, counting down til the clock struck twelve. you had pulled him in for a soft, tender kiss, promising that you'd be at his side this year just as much as you were all the years prior.

valentine's day, you sprinkled rose petals across the floors, to which he instantly complained about the cleanup. but when he followed the pristine trail you had created, leading straight to the bedroom, each complaint died on his tongue.

you had taken your time spelling out his name on the bed with rose petals of deep burgundy hues and ivory, tossing some of his favorite snacks and self-care knick-knacks into a little basket, a red hood plushie sitting comfortably on top of it all.

he almost asked you to marry him right then and there, ready to abandon the elaborate plan he'd been brewing with your family's help behind the scenes.

st. patrick's day was merely for great spirits. you had dragged him down to a pub after patrol, pinching his cheeks nonstop at the lack of green in his attire.

easter was spent with your family. a bunch of little ones running around, searching for easter eggs. you weren't sure how you managed to convince this big, killer of a man to get into a bunny suit (you said you'd put on bunny ears and a tail for him later), but the looks on the kids' faces were worth it.

halloween was just another excuse to party. he swore up and down that he wouldn't get into another stupid costume. when he saw you in fishnets and a bodysuit that hugged every one of your curves, though, he caved. albeit begrudgingly, he slipped into the orange inmate suit.

far too enthusiastically, he put his hands forward for you to cuff him.

"been a bad boy, haven't i, officer?"

he smirks at the way you get all flustered, shaking your head as you latch the metal cuffs to his wrist.

he plays the part more than well, making you question whether his earlier protests were a mere facade, and after seeing your costumes together, everyone knows that he's right where he wants to be.

thanksgiving is one of the heavier holidays, but you make it easy.

his family life was never simple. they never got to celebrate. he didn't even want to celebrate, considering the holiday's tragic origins, but it didn't change the fact that his heart ached at the sight of a beautiful family gathering to express gratitude for one another.

you didn't make it a huge deal ― it just became an annual four-day weekend with the batboys, an excuse to get away from their responsibilities and catch up. your home was full of banter and chaos, and no matter how much he swore up and down that he hated it, they brought out this youthful, slightly immature version of jason that he thought had died years ago.

after all, he had his brothers and his favorite person all under one roof, completely safe. who wouldn't be grateful for that?

christmas came with...mild complications.

of course, kissing under the mistletoe would never be a complaint.

jason would give you the shirt off his back if you needed it. he would lift the world onto his shoulders and plant it at your feet if you asked him to. he just didn't know how to be on the receiving end of any gesture.

so when you gift him something sentimental, he's quick to hand the box right back to you.

"jason, it's a gift."

he's still pushing the box toward you, refusing to look up.

"i don't want it. you spent too much money."

"honey-"

"i don't want you spending money on me," he blurts out, almost embarrassed.

"don't be ridiculous."

you take the box, opening it up to reveal a simple tungsten-carbide band with a sliver of a red line throughout its center. you take his hand, plopping it into his palm.

"look at it," you whisper.

your initials are faintly engraved on one side. what grabs his attention immediately is your handwriting etched inside the band.

'forever'.

he doesn't think the phrase could ever come to fruition and make an example in his lifetime, but with you, he believes anything is possible.

"i wanted to give it to you as your wedding band, but i couldn't wait," you admit sheepishly.

he starts crying. sobbing, actually, as he looks it over just once. your arms find his shoulders right away, embracing him in a way that makes his heart feel like it's bursting in his chest.

you take the ring, holding his shaky hand in yours. his breath catches when you begin slipping the cool metal onto his finger. it's a perfect fit. he just stares at his hand like it's worth a million bucks before pulling you into his lap, kissing you til your brain goes foggy.

"keep doing shit like this, and i promise i'll marry you sooner than you can imagine," he'll mumble against your lips, hands warm on your face.

given how big a deal you made of every holiday, it was no surprise that you stressed his birthday as if it were the most important day of the year.

you quietly slipped out of the tranquility of your bedroom, thanking the lord that jason's nervous system had finally regulated itself. it only took four years for him to stop waking up in a panic whenever you left him in bed alone.

as sly as a fox, you moved around the place with ease, setting his gifts all prim on the sofa before fixing some garland to the walls, sprinkling confetti all over. you'd both curse yourself later for the clutter.

when you're pleased with the setup, you pop into the kitchen.

a man as brawny as jason needs a full spread, no debate. you get to work, throwing together his usual breakfast ― three eggs, sunnyside up, three sausage links, five slices of bacon, and instead of a few slices of toast to top it all off, you stack four hefty birthday pancakes with a decadent cream cheese glaze onto a tray.

when you tiptoe back into the bedroom, he's already awake, mindlessly scrolling through birthday wishes from his family.

you don't give him a second to put the phone down, tackling him and pressing wet kisses all over his face.

"happy birthday, baby!"

you plant one last juicy kiss on his lips, exaggerating the obnoxious smooch as his hands settle over your behind. the laugh bubbling in his chest makes your heart do backflips.

"thank you, honey," he hums, smoothing his hands over your back before pulling your chest flush to his.

he groans when you attempt to sit up, arms tightening around your midriff.

"babe, can we just stay in bed?" he whines like a toddler, fingers curling into the fabric of your sleepshirt.

"sure," you shrug. "if you want your breakfast to get cold, that is."

his eyes narrow at you as you kiss the tip of his nose.

breakfast is his achille's heel. it's the most important meal of the day. if he doesn't have a good breakfast, he sports the worst attitude known to man. damn you for using it to get him out of bed.

he traipses behind you, pawing at his eyes with a boisterous yawn before he pauses. his eyes flick to the breakfast spread on the island behind you, then drift to the presents on the sofa, and ultimately glaze over when he sees the bolded letters strung across the wall, reading 'happy birthday jason!'

his shoulders drop a fraction, everything about his demeanor softening instantly. he huffs a small laugh to deflect from the way his insides have gone all warm and fuzzy on him.

you'd been left a mess after finishing up this tiny birthday surprise, but the way he looks at you makes it all worth it.

"honey, you didn't ha―"

"mm-mm," you shake your head, slowly stepping into his space. "i did this because i wanted to do it, jason."

your arms circle around his waist. you press a kiss to the x-shaped scar that lies right above the constant thump of his heart. you smile at the way his breath hitches. you exhale softly, catching his gaze.

"i figured that we're getting older and that something quieter, just the two of us, would be nice this year."

his arms drop to your waist when yours rise to his neck.

"i love you." your thumb traces the long autopsy scar that cuts into his collarbone. "not just today, but every single day. and with each day that passes, i somehow love you more and more."

you giggle softly before kissing him gently, years of love and tenderness pouring between you. his grip on your waist is firm, holding you as though you'll slip right through his fingers.

"you're allowed to have nice things, jay," you whisper against his lips when you finally pull away. "so enjoy this. let me celebrate you. let me love you. it's the least i could do."

his eyes flutter shut when the tears finally start falling, a broken sound leaving his lips as his forehead finds your shoulder. your palms slide over his back, softly caressing his scarred skin. he stays in your arms like that for a moment, sniffling quietly when he straightens up.

he laughs at himself, shaking his head.

"god, i'm path―"

your fingers curl into his skin just enough to shut him up. your eyebrows furrow up at him.

"don't you dare finish that sentence. you are not pathetic, jason peter todd."

your lips land on the deep scar cutting through his browbone.

"you're amazing, strong, one of a kind," you murmur as your thumbs smooth over his cheekbones. "you're loved. and if no one on earth loves you, then i'm dead."

the glossy sheen in his eyes deepens to something greater than mere reverence.

"God, i love you," he purrs, taking your face into his palm.

your knees almost buckle when jason drops to his own, and you want to be upset when he hikes your leg over his shoulder, insisting that he wants to make you feel loved on his birthday, but my oh my, how could you ever say no to him?

a/n: IT'S OUR FAV MAN'S BIRTHDAY 🥹 but when the fuck will it be my turn to live out this irl and not just in my fantasies?????? 🫩✌🏼

a/n 2: had this sitting in my drafts since late june and i was soooo excited to post it, but life just happened and here i am, posting it a day after his bday 🙂‍↔️ hope you guys enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing it!

[tinyapplebug]

That Dark Place Again

Jason Todd x reader.

Tw: angst, dark past, torture, crying, comfort. Good ending, short, you comforting him, cringe, joker mentioned, panic attack, nightmare. NOT PROOF READ

Authors note: needed to writing something about him. I’m getting addicted to writing now help.

“Babe…?” Jason called out in a panicked whisper. He had his hand on your shoulder, attempting to shake you away. He had an another nightmare again, he woke up with sweat running down his temple and the tiniest of tears spilling on his eyelashes when he woke up. He took long deep breaths, trying to regulate himself again. He was brought back into that awful place again….

“N-no, no— please…!” He cried out helplessly.

The crowbar scraped the floor as he brought it closer to him painfully slow. His sadistic grin taunting him with an ugly cackle the more he plead to stop.

“What was that?” He said mockingly. “Please what? Used your words, Robin.” He scrutinized with an emphasis on the name ‘Robin.’

Jason could only groan pathetically in response, he couldn’t lift his head up anymore from the non-stop exertion and torment caused. He felt the months of grime on his face and hair. How long has he been here? He lost count. He felt utterly hopeless, Loss of hope he once had the first few days here. Because he soon realized that…

No one will come to save him.

You awake with a groan. Lazily lifting your head up from your pillow to turn to him. “Hm..?”

There was no response for a couple of seconds.

“Nothing.” His voice quivered.

You said nothing in return. You only turn your body towards him. You lift a pillow planted between you both away.

You scoot closer, until you’re only inches apart.

You find his hand under the covers. They were calloused and sweaty, but you didn’t mind. You never minded.

You knew better than to ask him what’s wrong. He won’t answer, not because he doesn’t want to, but because you can hear him silently crying in the dark. Trying but failing to be quiet, you hear his breath get shaky. You said nothing, you did nothing. Just held his hand under the covers, letting him know that you’re still here. That he’s here with you. Safe and sound, away from the past he feared the most about.

After what felt like an hour, you hear shuffling next to you, and then his chest as he pulled you closer to him. He brought his arms around you, his face buried into your shoulder. He had stopped crying, but you can feel his tears from earlier wetting your shirt and skin. You slowly brought your arm to his head and ran your fingers through his hair slowly. You sigh in comfort once again as you can feel Jason start to calm down fully.

“Love you.” It was barely audible, so quiet that you probably wouldn’t have noticed if he weren’t pressing his lips lightly against your neck.

You tilt your head down to meet the top of his head and press and tender kiss there. You felt him hug you tighter. You faintly smile.

“Love you too.”