"a meet-cute that ends up in the tabloids" and jaysteph!!
ahh thank you maya <3 i've had this one partially written for aaages but every time i thought i was almost done, it just grew longer xD it ended up being nearly 10k lol
thank you to @deepwithintheabyss for looking this over for me <3
>> AO3 <<
Steph doesn’t usually buy lingerie. It’s not that she doesn’t see the appeal—she definitely does—it’s just… Well, it wouldn’t be the first time that she’s bought a set and felt more like she was playing dress up than anything approaching sexy or confident. Admiring it on other people is more than enough for her.
Still, it’s fun to do a little window shopping now and then, which is exactly what she’s found herself doing today, and…
Wow.
One of the sets on display is absolutely gorgeous—all intricate lace with a little bit of ribbon and mesh, and dyed Steph’s favorite shade of purple. It’s high waisted, the way she likes, and— Well. She wants.
It would absolutely be a splurge, but…
“Wouldn’t I look sexy in that?” she says, half-joking as she turns to Tim.
Oh.
Oh no.
That is very much not Tim she’s looking at.
Tall and gorgeous flushes a pretty shade of pink, making him look a lot softer than his tough-boy aesthetic might suggest. He looks familiar in a way that tugs at her brain, but she can’t really imagine forgetting a face like his, what with the full lips and long lashes and prominent, slightly crooked nose.
Stephanie Brown, you are a walking disaster.
Her own face starts to heat. She starts to stammer out an apology, hoping that maybe she can salvage the situation enough to get his number, maybe, but before she can get past the first syllable, he looks away from her and toward the display, tipping his head back in consideration. Then he looks back at her, deliberately dragging his gaze down her body in a way that makes her flush darken, her skin tingle. She resists the urge to twirl a strand of hair around her finger.
“Yeah,” he says, and oh, he’s got a nice voice too; a pleasant baritone that immediately hooks her. “Yeah, you would. Purple is definitely your color.” And then he winks.
Steph just about dies on the spot.
Play it cool play it cool play it cool.
She tosses her hair over her shoulder and gives him the same slow, deliberate going over. It just reaffirms how fucking hot he is, the way his jeans strain around his thighs, a rip near the inseam exposing the barest sliver of skin. Steph wants to sink her teeth in.
Somehow, despite her dry mouth, she manages to smirk. “You’re sweet. Let me take you out sometime? Play your cards right… maybe you’ll get to see me in it.”
Gorgeous flashes her a toothy smile, showing off his dimples. “Now, how’s a guy supposed to refuse an offer like that? You should know, though—I don’t put out on the first date.”
This might actually be the weirdest way she’s asked someone out.
Oh—wait, no, that’s still Tim. Hard to beat hitting someone with a brick and then telling them they’re really fucking cute while you ice the bruise. “Perfect,” she says slyly. “That gives me plenty of time to figure out what I’m going to do to you.” This time it’s her turn to wink, and she delights in the way his flush starts creeping down his neck. “The name’s Steph,” she says, sticking out her hand. “Stephanie Brown.”
His hand is warm when it takes hers; the skin callused. “Jason,” he says. “Jason Todd.”
The name rings the same bells his face did—but again, she can’t quite place it.
“Jay!”
The sudden shout catches Jason’s attention—he twists, turning to spot whoever yelled. Steph follows his gaze, finding a man in a trucker hat waving. He’s got a young, dark-haired girl balanced on his hip, and next to him is a woman who looked like she might have stepped off of a runway. Jason waves back before holding up one finger as if to say, Just a minute. The turns back to Steph. “Pass me your phone for a sec? I’ll add my number.”
Butterflies swarm her stomach. “Sure thing,” she says, pulling out her phone and quickly navigating to the Add Contact page.
Maybe she’s not so much of a disaster after all… or if she is, at least she’s a lucky disaster.
Jason types his number in. “Text me sometime?” There’s a hopeful lilt to his voice. “We can pick a day.”
“Sure,” she says, and he treats her to another smile before he leaves to join the trio across the way. Steph gives them a moment to disappear, watching amusedly as there’s clearly some ribbing going on, and then turns back to the display. It’s more money than she’d been planning to spend today but… it won’t hurt to treat herself, will it? Sure would make her a lot happier than her textbooks have recently.
And maybe, if her date goes well, she’ll have someone to show it off to.
Tim doesn’t show up again until she’s leaving the store. He’s clearly looking for her—and trying to be casual about it, though even from here she can spot the slightly pinched look on his face. She lets him look a moment longer before catching his attention.
He spots the bag immediately, of course. “I didn’t know you were buying lingerie today.”
“The store doesn’t just sell lingerie, Tim,” Steph sniffs. “Maybe I bought sweats.”
“You called them overpriced and tacky the other day,” Tim says flatly.
“A woman is allowed to change her mind,” she says.
Tim raises a brow at her; the very picture of skepticism.
Steph changes the subject. “Where were you, anyway?” She knocks him in the shoulder. “I turned around to talk to you, and you were just gone!”
He winces, rubbing his arm. “Ah… Got distracted texting the group chat and ended up following the wrong purple shirt?”
Steph snorts. “Of course you did. I swear I’m gonna get one of those wrist leashes. For you and Cass.” Tim snorts, but Steph is at least 50% serious. “Now, you promised me a giant pretzel, and I intend to collect!”
She can tell him about Jason while they eat.
Maybe.
Or maybe she'll keep him to herself for a little while longer.
Would you believe me when I told you that everything for this was already written (probably even still in 2023 though could also be at the start of 2024) and it just needed some edits and a different outlook? At the time I found it lacking but now I like what I have
Prompt: “You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you”
Words: 1243
Ask Game
“You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you” Dick breathed into Tim’s hair. Tim only grumbled and shifted in his sleep, pressing close to Dick.
“Come on” Dick coaxed gently, shaking his sleeping figure softly.
Tim grumbled some more, clearly trying to cling to sleep but failing. One eye opened up to glare at him, but the heat of the gaze was tampered by the haziness of sleep still clinging to him. Inwardly, Dick cooed at the fact that Tim felt safe enough around him not to spring to immediate attention at the slightest disturbance.
Another shake, this time purely because he could, “come on rise and shine pretty.”
“Wazzit?” came the half asleep question.
“Breakfast,” Dick urged gently squirming out of Tim’s grip to stand up, “don’t want it to get cold after I did all the work.” He flashed a smile at Tim over his shoulder as he walked to the dresser to sort out clothing for Tim to wear.
Who was, adorably grumpy and sleep mussed as he started to sit up. Some dried spit clung to the corner of his lips and cheek and his hair was pressed flat on one side.
Dick wanted to eat him just right up, but they had plans, so that would have to wait.
He watched as Tim stretched, a sliver of his belly and the fine hair that sat on it exposing before he vaguely stumbled in Dick’s direction. Falling into him and trusting Dick to catch him, than doing anything close to attempting a real hug.
Dick would never exchange these mornings for anything in the world, to see Tim like this after waking up together, so trusting and open with his affection. Uncaring about how he behaved or looked as he went through the process of waking up, knowing he didn’t need to hurry for anything.
It made Dick want to bundle him up and never let him go. Stuff him into oversized sweaters and blankets to complete the soft drowsy look he had. Beat every criminal up so Tim wouldn’t need to get out at night and could instead lounge on the couch and do whatever he wanted, sleep as much as he wanted and look as much as an adorable boyfriend as he was.
Instead he gently urged Tim towards the direction of the bathroom, pressing the clothes into his hand and only lingering enough to press a short kiss to his forehead.
Then he went into the kitchen to set the table and wait for Tim.
Dick was putting the food on the table when Tim finally stumbled in, eyes still half closed in sleep despite him having clearly washed his face and changed clothes. That was okay, Tim liked to cling to sleep as long as he was allowed to, and they were in no hurry to leave. Not yet.
The smile he got for making one of Tim’s favourite breakfast foods was bright enough to light up the whole room, Dick wasn’t able to resist the smile that tugged at his own lips as he bend down to press a soft kiss to Tim’s lips. And if the kiss lingered and turned out into soft languid making out? Well maybe it was okay for the food to grow a little cold.
-
There had been no warning, nothing to prepare him for what was about to happen. One moment they were walking side by side arms interlocked and deep in a discussion, and the next moment Tim was on the ground, ears ringing, head swimming. Limbs all sprawled over the place and twinging with pains and bruises in a distant way.
When he opened his eyes he was greeted with Dick's face and he only had a moment of relief, before he realized what was wrong with the picture.
Dicks eyes were closed, face slack, blood and dust streaked his face. And the most damming of all, a huge piece or rebar was sticking out of his chest while the rest was buried under concrete.
He scrambled up and closer, hands reaching out and only hesitating for a second before he touched Dick's shoulder.
“Dick please” Tim begged, his voice shaking as much as he was shaking the other man.
Vaguely he knew that he should put pressure on the wound, that he was trained for situations like this and how to handle them. But there was something about this being Dick who was hurt, not Nightwing. Not one of his aliases or in a situation that would have posed some risk. But Dick Grayson out on a date with him, that left him frozen, unable to handle the situation as he should have and dizzy with nerves.
The ringing in his ears drowned out the screams and cries of people around him, the crackling of fire. He wasn’t sure if Dick was breathing, chest moving up and down or if his eyes were just swimming that much. The cloth he had pressed into the wound was saturating with blood way too fast and there was already a puddle forming underneath Dick's head as well.
-
He doesn't know how much time passes, his hearing and vision filtering in and out. His fingers cold and sticky with blood when he finally looks up and blinks. There's a child crying in front of him.
The girls leg is severed and she's bleeding out fast, she needs medical attention or she'll die. Her Mother is lying besides her unmoving and still head squashed beneath stone. He numbly rises upwards, she needs his help or she'll die. Dick is— Dick will be fine, he stumbles around his prone form., but right now there is a crying child that needs him more.
He drifted from place to place after that, helping people he saw and taking note of the ones he couldn't.
He felt disconnected from his body almost as if he was drifting out of it and watching down on the steps he took.
Tim started to wander towards to the sound of sirens as they approached, intent on calling someone over for the little girl and Dick.
-
"What are you doing" he asked blandly, catching the medic by his wrist as he tried to walk away, "Why aren't you helping him?"
The man looks pitying at him and Tim wanted to hiss "I'm sorry, but there's nothing I can do anymore"
Tim shook his head. No he can't, he was lying.
"He's dead."
Tim's hold on the guys wrist grew slack, he watched him hurry away to someone else who needed his help.
It was the last thing Tim remembers seeing.
-
“I can’t do this without you” he whispers into the rain.
His knees are dirty from kneeling in the mud, his vacant stare fixed onto the earth where beneath the coffin lies.
“Please wake up. You promised-” he chokes. His whole body shudders and he sways, curling slightly forwards as if in pain.
“You promised we’re in this together, that you wouldn’t leave me like last time."
The rain keeps on drumming.
"Are you a liar?”
He hunches over, making himself as small as he can get, ignoring how the rain pounds into his back, even welcomes it. His sobs tear through him ugly and painful, stealing the breath from his lungs and making him feel lightheaded.
“You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you.” he whispers
i see you were on a ivycat roll today (or well yesterday at a very reasonable time)!!
their dynamic is just so much fun to me like hello!!!! they end up in a room together and the tension skyrockets. can’t decide if i want them to be on their third divorce or trapped in the mutual pining stage all i know is that they are in big sapphic love & will continue to fight for/with each other <3333
a kiss that tastes of the flood/dessert they are eating and jaysteph!!
hehehe so i wasn't originally intending to include smut in this--my original thought was that it would be fade to black, but... idk, jay & steph had other ideas
anyway, this is a little under 4k. i hope you enjoy! <3
>> AO3 <<
“I’m dying,” Steph says, her voice muffled where her face is pressed into one of Jason’s thighs. She grimaces when another cramp lances through her gut. Fucking shark week. Steph wants to bite something. Probably Jason, since her mouth is currently mashed up against him.
He’d understand.
Probably.
Jason runs a hand over her hair, fingers stroking over her curls. “You’re not dying,” he says fondly. “The ibuprofen will kick in soon.”
Steph jerks her head up, balancing on her elbows. “Not dying? I am bleeding out as we speak—and you, my loving boyfriend, have the audacity to say that I am not dying?”
His eyes crinkle, shoulders shaking as he suppresses his laughter. “You’re right—how cruel of me. I’m sorry, darling, how ever can I make it up to you?”
Steph wrangles the grin off of her mouth, twisting it into a thoughtful frown instead. It’s hard when all her lips want to do is twitch upward. She rolls over, onto her back, head pillowed on his thighs, and taps her chin. “Hm… It was very rude of you,” she tells him, and he nods seriously. “To earn my forgiveness, you must… Draw me a bath. And… hand feed me chocolates.”
Steph’s joking, of course. She’d never turn down the chance to either a) spend time naked with him or b) stuff herself with chocolate, but she doesn’t expect Jason to actually do it.
Obviously that means he does.
He’s contrary like that.
“If that’s what you need, baby,” Jason says, drawing a finger down the bridge of her nose; a feather light touch that makes her shiver before he eases out from under her. “Wait here.
She pushes up onto her elbows again. “Wait— You don’t really have to—”
“I know,” he says, pausing by the arm of the couch. “But… you know I don't mind taking care of you.” There’s something hesitant, almost shy about the way he looks at her.
Steph softens, shifting up onto her knees. She reaches a hand out, and Jason presses his cheek to it, letting her cradle his face while he looks at her with those sweet, sweet eyes.
“Let me?” he whispers.
And, well. How’s she supposed to say no to that?
“Okay,” she breathes, stroking her thumb over his cheek. “Take care of me, then.”
Jason turns to press a soft, lingering kiss to her palm. Steph’s chest feels so full. It’s almost enough for her to want to pull him back to her and tell him to wait, that she wants to sit with him for a while longer. She lets him go instead, watching as he heads down the hall to the bathroom. A moment later, she hears the water running. She gives it another minute or so before she gets up, going to lean in the bathroom doorway and just… watch him.
Jason has rolled up the sleeves of his Henley, revealing his forearms, and the dusting of hair there. Also the freckle Steph likes to kiss sometimes, when she’s holding his hand or snuggling with him. When the water is hot enough, he plugs the drain, letting the tub fill just how she likes it. Then, he drops one of her bath bombs in the water—lilac and chamomile. The water foams, turning a pale shade of purple, and the scent wafts through the air. Jason adds epsom salt, too, and then lights a couple of her candles.
He passes her in the doorway, putting his hand briefly on her waist as he does. “Go ahead and get in,” he murmurs. “I’ll be back with the chocolates in just a minute.”
It’s Steph who flushes this time. She bites her lip and nods, flushing a little harder when Jason smiles. He kisses her ear before he leaves.
For a moment, she just stands there, watching him leave. This is so far from what she thought she would have when she asked him out months ago.
Although…
Asked him out isn’t quite the right phrase. She’d propositioned him. He was hot, she was hot, both of them were single… why not do something about it? He’d laughed and told her something about not putting out until the third date, and… Steph had taken it as a challenge. Been determined to woo him.
It had taken her a couple of tries to get it right. To see past the persona that he puts forth, or— No. Not the persona. To see past her own biases and assumptions about who he was as a person. Some informed by Bruce, and some… Some all her own.
Jason isn’t at all like what she expected. He’s so much better.
Steph strips, dropping her clothes in the hamper before sinking into the warm water. She sighs softly at the heat enveloping her, the way it soothes her sore muscles. Jason returns a moment later, holding the box of chocolates he’d bought when she asked him to pick up some tampons.
He kneels next to the tub. “Do you want me to wash your hair first?” he asks, twirling a strand of said hair around his finger.
She bites her lip. “Yeah, please?”
Jason smiles at her. His eyes crinkle at the corners, and Steph wants to kiss them.
So she does—cupping his cheeks in her hands, holding his face still as she kisses first one corner, and then the other. Water drips from her skin onto the bath mat. Steph doesn’t care.
When she pulls back, Jason’s eyes are wide and round before, between one blink and the next, they turn soft, shy-but-pleased.
“You’re so sweet to me,” she murmurs. “I’m so lucky to have you.”
His face darkens. “Sap,” he accuses, turning his face into her palm. She laughs, thought it fades when he looks at her through his lashes, and then murmurs: “Besides, I’m the lucky one.”
Steph wants to kiss him again. She doesn’t. She just strokes her thumb over his cheek, adjusting her hand so it can stop at his lower lip. “We’re both lucky.”
He kisses the pad of her thumb. “I can agree to that.”
“Good.” Her hands linger on him for a moment longer before she finally withdraws them. She adjusts, shifting until she can lean back comfortably. Jason takes that moment to fill a cup with water. He covers her eyes with his hand. The warmth of it seeps into her eyelids, making her feel almost drowsy. She hums contentedly as her shoulders drop, loosen.
His hand slips away once her hair is wet. Steph is a little sorry to feel it go.
The wet strands cling to her back, her shoulders, her arms. Jason gathers them in his hands in clumps, gently squeezing the water in to make sure they’re soaked all the way through. Then he reaches for the shampoo, squeezing it into his palm before he massages it into her scalp.
Steph melts. God. He’s so good with his hands. Jason is indulgent, lingering even after he’s worked up a good lather. She can hardly help the little noises she makes, or the way she pushes into his hands like a kitten. He laughs softly at her, but that doesn’t phase her in the slightest. Especially not when he gets his nails involved, scratching lightly at her skin and making her sigh.
It does have to come to an end eventually, though.
“You take care of me so well,” she murmurs, lips barely moving as he rinses away the shampoo. Her eyes are shut too—she can’t see his face, but she can feel the way his hands still for a moment before he says,
“Just returning the favor.”
The warmth in his voice makes her heart swell, pushing against her ribs. She loves him so much. She opens her eyes, just a little, just enough to see him, looking soft and pleased and—
Just as in love as she feels.
She aches with the need to kiss him, but for now, she doesn’t; letting her eyes fall shut again even as she hears the click of her conditioner being opened. He works it into her hair, detangling as he goes, until the strands slip through his fingers.
While her hair is conditioning, Jason washes her body. There’s nothing sexual about the way he touches her. He doesn’t tease or try to work her up—but he’s not clinical, either. It’s… Steph doesn't really have words for the way it makes her feel. She doesn't know how to express her appreciation, her gratitude, either, except to hope she can do the same for him.
Jason takes his time, the same way he had with her hair. He touches her all over, from her neck to her toes, leaving no part of her to yearn for his touch.
Despite his lack of teasing, her body responds anyway; a low curl of arousal unfurling through her veins, warming her from head to toe. It’s easy enough to ignore; to bask in the comfort and security of his touch.
Then, it’s back to her hair again: rinsing out the conditioner, shielding her eyes with his hand and giving the curls gentle squeezes to help them retain as much moisture as possible.
When he finishes, he rinses and dries his hands before reaching for the box of chocolates. He selects one of the pieces and holds it to her lips.
The chocolate has melted a little in the humidity—Steph sucks it from his fingers automatically, her eyes lowering to something half-lidded. The sweetness mixes with the salt of his skin; the lingering tang of soap. It adds a bite, a bitterness, but that only makes her want to do it all the more. To lick clean these fingers that have cared for her, and treated getting to do so as a reward in itself.
Jason’s pupils widen, darkening the green-blue of his eyes.
“Good?” he asks, a husk in his voice that warms her even more.
“Yeah,” she breathes. “You should try one.”
“Mm… in a minute,” he says, holding another to her lips. She takes it too. This one is even sweeter; a caramel center that spreads over her tongue. She hums, low in her throat.
So it goes, the water cooling around her as he feeds her piece after piece. She’s polished off half the box before he finally makes a move.
This time, when she swallows, Jason's hand drops to her jaw; his eyes on her mouth. It’s obvious what he wants, and Steph is more than ready to give it to him. She tips her head back, eyes closed, welcoming the way he kisses her. He runs his tongue over her bottom lip—she parts them, allowing his tongue into her mouth.
He licks into her, chasing the taste of chocolate through every crevice of her mouth. She moans, curling one of her hands into his shirt, uncaring of the way water spills over the side of the tub.
His hand slides down her neck, her shoulder, to her breast. This time, the touch is very much sexual. He palms it, squeezing gently before swiping his thumb over her nipple. Steph shivers, moaning again, tugging at his shirt to pull him closer.
His other hand comes up to cup the back of her neck. He continues to play with her nipple, alternating between squeezing and rolling her breast and pinching and tugging her nipple. Her skin is flushed, hot—and there’s an ache in her belly, her sex, that has nothing to do with her period.
She has to break the kiss when she starts to grow dizzy. Jason doesn’t pull away. Instead, he lingers, kissing and nibbling at her jaw.
“Jason…”
He nuzzles her and then pulls back, pupils blown, something hungry in his eyes that makes her toes curl. His hand slides down her side, her stomach.
“Do you want to move this to the bedroom?” Jason looks at her through heavy-lidded eyes. The way his fingers toy with the curls on her mound leaves nothing to imagination.
Steph swallows, mouth suddenly dry. “Are you— I’m on my period.”
Jason shrugs. “So? I don’t care if you don’t.”
“Okay,” she breathes, biting her lip.
He kisses her again—more briefly this time. It still steals her breath away. When he pulls away, he drains the tub. Before Steph can stand on her own, he scoops her into his arms. She gasps, arms flying around his neck and holding tight as he shakes with laughter.
Steph slaps his shoulder. “Asshole.” She can't keep the laughter out of her voice.
He just grins at her, the skin around his eyes crinkling and his eyes squinting so she can barely make out the color. Just the glimmer of them. Her stomach flips—and just like that, her irritation, faux or not, fades.
She huffs. “You’re too handsome for your own good.”
It’s funny, watching him try to keep a straight face. Jason is one of the most gifted liars and actors she’s ever met. He’s also one of the worst.
He swallows and says, “Flatterer.”
“I just call it like I see it.” Steph doesn’t even try to keep the smirk off her face—though she does press it against the corner of his mouth.
Jason sighs, but she can feel his smile.
He blows out the candles before carrying her out of the bathroom and down the hall to her bedroom, kicking the door shot behind him. She half-expects him to toss her into the bed—her body tenses, breath stilling in her lungs as she braces for the weightless feeling of falling.
It doesn’t come.
Instead, Jason sets her down gently, tenderly, before bracketing her with his body. She toys with the hair at his nape. He noses at her cheek, getting her to tip her head back so he can kiss his way down her jaw.
“What’s not okay right now?” he asks against her skin.
Steph shivers, sweeping her hand down his back. “Not your mouth,” she says, almost reluctantly. She loves the way it feels when he goes down on her, loves how much enjoyment he gets out of it, but— Not tonight.
She feels him nod. “Anything else?”
“Just the usuals.” She turns her head, reaching for the bedside table where she keeps the condoms. Jason eases back so she can prop herself up on her elbows and grab them.
Over the years, Steph has gotten fairly comfortable with sex and her sexuality, but when she passes the condom to Jason, she feels… shy, almost jittery. Her heart is beating a little too fast, her stomach flipping and tumbling. It’s something she knows doesn't go unnoticed. She mentally crosses her fingers, hoping that Jason won't say anything about it.
He holds the condom, but doesn’t tear it open yet. Instead, he smooths his hand down her side, the movement reassuring. “Everything okay?”
Well. There goes that idea. She bites her lip. “Yeah. Just… nervous.”
He nods. “Do you want to stop?”
“No.” She holds her arms out, and he comes to her, letting some of his weight settle over her body. The pressure feels good. So does the warmth. “I love you.”
Jason kisses her. It’s soft, sweet, and she melts into it. She’d like to say that her anxiety melts away too; that this silent reassurance eases all of her worries and has her eager for more. It wouldn’t be true. It does ease, settling in her belly rather than try to claw its way out of her chest. Steph knows that’s all she can ask for.
“I love you too,” Jason murmurs when he pulls away. “We’ll take it slow, and you can back out at any time.”
There’s a tugging in her chest. She'd told him the same thing once… though in different circumstances. I love you, she almost says again—but she bites the words back, throwing her leg around him and rolling her hips against his.
“Slow doesn’t mean glacial,” she teases. “You’re not even naked yet, sweetheart.”
He laughs. “Undress me then.”
She grins. “Don’t mind if I do.” A familiar thrill swoops through her stomach when she flips them. It comes from the knowledge that he lets her manhandle him—that he enjoys it. It makes her feel powerful, confident, when she straddles his hips
The way he’s looking at her only adds to the feeling; his pupils blown wide, eyes heavy lidded, tongue running over his lips.
She grins at him. If he was wearing jeans, this is where she’d pop the button of them, smirking cheekily. Instead, he’s wearing sweats. She hooks her fingers in them, and his boxers too, and pulls them down, tossing them aside. His cock springs free.
“Mm… you’re so hard for me.” Steph wraps her hand around the base, giving him a long, slow jerk. Jason moans, hips rolling. “Can't wait to have you inside me, baby.”
His throat bobs. “Steph—”
She grins at him, giving him another pump, twisting her wrist at the head before letting go. Jason bites his lip, hips jerking like he can follow her. Then she grips his shirt, pulling it off and over his head.
“There,” she says, running her fingers through the hair on his chest. “That’s better.”
Jason’s hands settle on her waist. “Much better,” he agrees. His hands slide up her sides. Her skin prickles under his touch, making her shiver. “Do you want to ride me?”
Steph hums thoughtfully—the sound turning to a moan when he touches her boobs, cupping them in his hands and squeezing. “Ah… I seem to recall someone promising to take care of me.” She tweaks one of his nipples, grinning at his gasp.
Jason laughs breathlessly. “I did, didn’t I?” He gives her boobs another little squeeze before dropping his hands back down to her hips. Her core tightens just before he flips them again. Her back hitting the bed still knocks the breath out of her.
Jason kisses his way down her neck. Steph tangles her fingers in his hair, tipping her head back to give him better access. When he gets to her pulse, he sinks his teeth into her skin. Her grip tightens on his hair, moaning, pussy clenching around nothing.
“Jason—”
He lavs his tongue over the bite mark before pulling back. She hears the package tear, and looks down to watch him roll the condom over his cock. She clenches again, biting into her lip. The nerves had helped smother the ache of emptiness, but it’s back again, and stronger than before. Her heart beats hard, mouth dry with anticipation. She shifts, bending her legs at the knee and spreading her thighs wider.
“Mm… Ready?” His voice is breathier, huskier. It makes her shiver.
“Yeah,” she breathes.
He lines himself up with her, and then bears down. At first, all she feels is pressure—then, slowly, he presses in. There’s no resistance. He glides into her as easily as he ever has, even as she clenches and flutters around him.
“Fuck—you feel so good.” Steph grips his shoulders, nails biting into his skin.
“H-hah. That’s my line.” Jason grins at her—though it fades as he pushes further into her, his eyes fluttering, lips parting around a soft sound of pleasure.
Steph wraps her legs around him, helping to draw him further into her. “Yeah? Does my pussy feel good around your cock?”
His hips twitch. “Yeah. You’re so—fuck. You’re so hot.”
Steph clenches around him deliberately, adoring the way his hips stutter, a moan filling his chest. “Good. ‘Cause I—I love the way you fill me up, baby.”
“Ah— Steph…” He tucks his face into her neck, their hips flush now. He’s let his weight settle over her again. It feels even better now that they’re joined together—connected as deeply as two people can be.
She cups the back of his head, turning to kiss and nibble at the shell of his ear. “Don’t get shy on me now,” she teases breathlessly. “You’re taking such good care of me, it’s only—unh, only right that I praise you for it.”
He sinks his teeth into her again, worrying another bruise not far from the first. She gasps, then moans, digging her nails into his shoulder. His hips roll, pulling out an inch or so before pushing back in.
“A-ah— God, Jay. Keep going, sweetheart, I want to feel you—wanna feel good with you.”
Jason doesn’t pull back very far. His thrusts stay shallow, his cock never leaving her more than an inch or two. Steph is in no hurry to reach her climax. She’s more than happy to keep him close and keep murmuring praise in his ear as the pleasure builds sweet and slow. It’s easy to get lost in it, until the muscles in her belly start to tighten. Jason’s thrusts pick up speed in response. His hand slips between their legs. It doesn’t take him long to find her clit, or to start circling it in time with his thrusts.
“C’mon,” he whispers. “Wanna, wanna see you come for me, gorgeous.”
Her breaths deepen, hips moving in time with his, his name on her tongue. The pleasure builds in waves, climbing higher and higher with every move until—finally—it crests, washing over her, her body seizing as she shudders through her climax. She can feel Jason’s breath as he pants. His own orgasm isn’t far behind.
“Please—please—Jay—” If her muscles weren’t turning to jelly, she’d tighten her legs around him, pull him closer, encourage him to seek his pleasure in her body. As it is, she’s limp under him. He must understand, though, or maybe he just can’t bring himself to leave the warmth of her, because he slows, but doesn’t stop. Not until his own orgasm rocks through him as he groans her name right into her ear, hips stuttering until they still, his cock pulsing inside her.
He moves off of her just enough so that his full weight isn’t bearing down on her. She holds him through the aftershocks, stroking his back, toying with the curls at the back of his neck. It helps ground her as much as it does him. When their breathing has slowed, Jason shifts again, though he doesn’t move off of her. The movement does cause his cock to slip from her—Steph doesn’t even want to know what kind of mess they just made out of her sheets, god.
That’s a problem for later Steph. Right now Steph is more than happy to stay in bed, cuddling with her boyfriend.
Bonus:
“Feel better?” Jason asks, the question nearly lost where his face is tucked into her shoulder.
“Mhm,” she hums. “Much better.” She leans her head against his, lips turning up. “So much for that bath.”
He laughs. “Mm, well. We could always split a shower here in, oh. Half an hour or so.”
Steph laughs brightly. “Maybe we should have started there. These sheets are going to be a pain in the ass to wash.”
“…yeah, probably should have put a towel down first,” Jason says, sounding sheepish. “Good thing we’re both pretty good at cleaning up bloodstains, huh?”
this is more urgent care than ER---actually, i'm picturing this happening at Leslie's clinic?---but. still on theme xD it's also heavily inspired by this post, bc... it's just so damian, you know?
“So… you said a cat did this?”
“Ah… yes.” Damian is distracted—not by the distant tug of a needle, in and out of his skin, but rather by the man doing the stitching.
He would not call him the most beautiful man he’s ever seen, but the man is certainly… attractive, with his sharp cheekbones and aquiline nose. Most striking is the pale, ice blue of his eyes; made even more so by the dark circles under his eyes.
Damian can relate.
“It was a kitten, actually,” he admits, somewhat reluctantly.
That gets those eyes on him, the needle stilling. The nurse’s brows raise. “A kitten?”
“She was very fierce.” Normally he keeps gloves in his car for such an occasion, but he had taken them out to wash them, and— Well. Of course he ended up finding the kitten before he got them back into his car.
"I see," the nurse says, a smile tugging at his mouth. "I wonder if I'll be stitching up the next poor person to find her, too."
Damian sniffs. "Hardly," he says. "She's in my car." His emergency kennel, luckily, had still been there. He hated to leave the poor creature out there—on the way over, he had contemplated calling Richard or Todd to pick her up for him. However, neither of them was likely to listen to his instructions to leave her alone. Richard because he would believe he could befriend her, and Todd because he would underestimate the severity.
Pity Cassandra was out of town.
Pity Jon lived two hours away.
“Huh.” The nurse goes back to stitching. “You didn’t let go?” He sounds vaguely impressed. Damian cannot help the way he puffs up with pride.
“Of course not,” he says. “I would hardly leave the poor thing out there to suffer. Fierce or not, Gotham’s streets are no place for a kitten.”
The curve of the man’s mouth turns—soft, almost. It is reminiscent of a look he often sees from Richard, though it incites a different feeling in him entirely. He feels… warm. His fingertips tingle.
“Of course not,” the man echoes, softly. “Do you do that a lot? Rescue kittens, I mean.”
“At nearly one in the morning? No, not typically,” Damian says. “However, I volunteer at an animal shelter, and I am enrolled in the veterinary program at Gotham University. I find myself rescuing many animals.” He also had, vaguely, considered the notion of stitching himself up. It was only the knowledge of Richard and Pennyworth’s disappointed faces that had sent him to the clinic, instead.
“Huh,” the man says, thoughtfully. “So what happens to the kitten now?”
“She is young enough it should be fairly easy to socialize her,” Damian says. “Once she is used to people, I suppose I will look into finding her a home.” He would keep her himself, but— He has reached his limit on the amount of animals he can realistically take care of. His younger self would scoff at this, but part of adulthood was learning his limits. A dog, two cats, a snake, and several fostered kittens were certainly his.
The nurse hums, snipping the thread. He lingers at Damian’s side. “You know… I always wanted a cat. Do you… think I could call you, sometime? Maybe arrange a visit?”
Damian’s pulse quickens. “I—yes. I would be, ah. Amenable to that.”
The nurse smiles. The brightness of it steals the breath from Damian’s lungs. “Cool,” he says. “Hold on just a second.”
The nurse disposes of the needle and washes his hands before snagging one of the brochures from the countertop, by the sink. He withdraws a pen from his pocket and writes, quickly.
When he passes it to Damian, he winks. “You should be good to go now, Mr. Wayne.”
“Thank you,” Damian says, sliding off the exam table. As he walks out the door, he glances down at the paper. On it is a phone number, which Damian memorizes automatically, signed—
Tim Drake. Call me :)
Next to words is a doodle of a cat, wearing what is likely a nurse’s cap.
kissing in a stairwell, giving them an artificial height difference with jaydami <33
*puts on clown nose*
reverse robins, anybody? xD
thank sm for the prompt maya <3 i knew p much immediately what i wanted to do with it, but it took a bit for the fic to actually take shape, lol.
i hope you enjoy!
>> AO3 <<
Jason’s life would be so much easier if Damian wasn’t so damn pretty.
Every so often, Bruce is expected to host some of his peers for dinner and drinks—some long-standing tradition that Bruce can get away with skipping out on sometimes, but too much, and people will start to talk. It's stupid, but part of the cover.
If you ask Jason, they're worse than galas. He misses the days he could duck out after dinner. He guesses he still could, but— Now that he's older, it's a little more expected for him to actually participate.
Jason would rather not. He knows plenty of Gotham’s upper crust would rather he didn’t, too, no matter how well Jason has managed to assimilate. But… he has plans, and unfortunately, he can acknowledge that they’ll be raised if he’s in somewhat good standing among the folks with the money.
Doesn’t make attending any easier.
At least he only has to worry about attending the ones Bruce hosts. Eventually his peers will start inviting him to theirs, but for now, he’s still being very quietly snubbed. Which—for the moment at least—suits him just fine, plans or no.
Damian showed up this time, an hour before dinner started; wrapped in green and gold and looking like he just stepped off of a magazine cover. Jason barely paid attention at dinner tonight—too busy trying not to blush anytime Damian sent him a sly smile, or covertly rolled his eyes, or signed something discreetly across the table. He knew it was hardly private—Bruce had been there, he’d surely caught every one—but. The attention—
It made him feel… special.
Stupid, of course. Damian hardly sees him that way. He’s… To Damian, he’s family, and that’s all he’ll ever be.
But it’s kind of nice to pretend, when he gets the chance.
Bruce’s final guests are finally on their way out the door. Jason sits, chin in hand, at the top of the stairs, watching as Damian and Alfred see them out. He thinks the whole house breathes a sigh of relief when they finally leave. Alfred excuses himself to the kitchen, likely to oversee the temporary staff Bruce hires for these things. He’ll have them out the door as soon as possible, too, and then Jason will finally be able to sleep.
Damian lingers by the door for a moment. Then, finally, he begins to ascend the stairs. "Jason," he says. It’s a greeting and a question all in one.
Jason stands, smoothing the wrinkles from his slacks. “Can’t sleep until I know everyone’s gone,” he says. He knows they’d never be able to get into the family wing, not with Bruce’s security, but—
Old fears are hard to shake. Jason never sleeps well when there are strangers around, no matter how many locks Bruce gives him for his door.
Damian nods, like this is perfectly reasonable, and not a weird hang-up of Jason’s. ‘Course, considering... Damian probably feels the same way. That— It’s not comforting, ‘cause Jason hates to think of why he might, but… At the same time... it's reassuring to know he’s not alone.
Damian stops a few steps down from him. Like this, they’re almost at eye level; Damian’s eyes just past Jason’s nose.
“Thanks for coming tonight,” Jason says. Mostly just to say something. Keep the conversation going, even if just for a little while. It’s not often anymore that it’s just the two of them. He can’t begrudge Dickie the comfort of Damian’s presence, nor would he ever want to lose his time with Tim, but—
He does miss, sometimes, when it was just Damian and Jason—and sometimes Steph or Cass.
Damian hums. “Father is not as unbearable at these as he is at other functions, but. I’d still be remiss in my obligations if I left you to deal with him alone for too long.”
Jason knows his ‘obligations’ are purely platonic. He knows. His heart flutters, though; the traitorous bastard putting a more romantic lilt on the word. “Well. I appreciate it,” he says, softly. He bites his lip. “I… It’s nice. Having you around.”
Damian smiles. It’s small; mostly in his eyes, the way they upturn at the corners. “It is nice to, ah, ‘be around’,” he says. He reaches up to smooth down the lapel of Jason's blazer. Even through the layers, his touch burns like a brand. “You’ve grown up well, habibi.” His mouth curls up, just a little bit more.
The compliment is unexpected. The smile even more. And the touch—
Jason flushes scarlet. Every blush he’d fought back at dinner hits him now, and he feels a little lightheaded with it.
That, he decides, is the reason he leans down, foolishly, and presses a kiss right against one of those upturned corners. “Thanks,” he breathes—and then, heart threatening to beat right out of his chest, he flees to the safety of his bedroom, leaving Damian alone in the stairwell.
librarian/avid reader au with jaytim pretty please? <33
Nov 18 2023
another one of those "hey everything (besides the ending) is written but it's been rotting in my folder" and just needs an edit
Pairing: JayTimSteph
Words: 2010
Ask Game
Tim groans when he catches sight of Stephanie entering the library. He watches as she looks around for a second before spotting him and making her way over, grinning like the maniac that she is, on the way.
He's sure that if they weren’t in a library she would have been whooping as well, drawing the attention of half the college just so she could embarrass him.
“So Boy-wonder” comes her greeting as she leans onto him heavily and starts to ruffle his hair. Years of exposure to her behavior keep him from ducking away, he still only barely refrains from rolling his eyes though.
“How many times do I have to tell you to stop calling me that? Just because I skipped one, one grade doesn’t mean I’m some genius.”
Steph pauses her attempt of making an even bigger mess of his hair, to punch him softly into the shoulder, “We both know that’s not true, you’re just too lazy to do all the work and skip some more.”
Tim tries to shrug her off; so he can go back to sorting through the books, but she clings determinedly to him.
“So where is he? Where’s Mr. My Nerd Levels made Tim Drake Geek Extraordinaire fall for me?”
This time Tim does roll his eyes, “Figures that you didn’t come to the library to study or do something more productive.” he mutters. Trying to will down the blush that has risen onto his cheeks at her words.
She squawks in mock-offense, barely keeping the noise below the required level, “Hey! I do study. Just because I don’t spend all my time crunching the stuff in the last few moments because I didn’t pay attention in class,” he ignores her side-eye easily “doesn’t mean I don’t study! You just never notice it because you’re too busy with all your geek stuff.”
He's halfway to thinking that the distraction worked when she narrowed her eyes and jabs him sharply into the chest with a finger, “Hey you don’t wiggle yourself out of this so easily. Now tell me where he is.”
“I haven’t seen him yet” he admits, “He usually arrives before my shift even starts.”
“Oh what a nerd”
“And I only catch him when the library is about to close in the next half an hour. He likes to read and study till we’re nearly done, but because he always checks out so many books he started to leave a bit earlier as to not hold us up.”
“Was that why you were so late that one time?” she questions.
Tim shifts, “Well no, we both had lost track of time and thus didn’t notice it was past closing time.”
Steph looks him with a knowing glint in her eyes, “You were too busy staring weren’t you?”
"You would stare too if you knew how he looked!” Tim tries to defend himself.
“Well then how does he look? You haven’t been telling me anything! Besides sighing dreamily during lunch time and date nights.”
And- well that's true isn’t it? Tim has been too distracted by his crush to spend time with his girlfriend. He's very lucky that Stephanie is as understanding as she is and didn’t— a soft hit to the head interrupts his thoughts.
“Stop the worrying and tell me how he looks! We can complain about how horrible you have been neglecting me after I made fun of you.” She demands.
This is why Tim loves Steph so much, she never pulls her punches and prefers to go into everything head first. Never avoiding the ugly truths of conflict. And while sometimes (like now) it can be very annoying, when she persists on something, clings to it with every fiber of her being, she usually always got what she wants in the end anyways, so it's best to just give up. It was scarily efficient.
Tim also cannot deny that it isn’t hot as fuck.
“Come on less simping more sharing” Steph reminds him.
“Uhm well, he’s taller than you not much I think? But at least a little, and he got some faint scars on his face, one on his forehead, made his hair go all white in that place and when he smiles—.”
Steph's face breaks out into a delighted grin. “Oh! I know him he’s in my class his name is uhm-" her brows scrunch up, "Jace Trott or something.”
“Jason Peter Todd” Tim corrects automatically.
“Oh my god” Stephanie looks at him in wide-eyed surprise, “You’re really head over heels if you remember his name.”
This time it's Tim’s turn to squawk “That’s not true!” He tries to deny futilely.
“You didn’t know my name until after I kissed you.”
“I just see his name on the card everytime he goes to check out books.”
“And we had been working on a partner project for around a year now. You called me Spoiler the entire time because I had a patch on my pack.”
“Well how was I supposed to know that wasn’t your name!” He throws his hands up.
“What kind of lunatic names their kid Spoiler??? My name was on the paper, the teacher called us both by name.”
Tim waves around one of the books he's holding, “Well you didn’t know my name either until like 4 months into our partnership.” he complains.
She jabs her elbow into his side, and he's forced to bend over. “Knowing someones name and nickname are two different things!”
“You called me short-stack the entire year.” He gasps out through the pain.
“Well you were short. How should I have known you’d shoot up like a beanpole?”
“Uhm, excuse me” Comes a voice from the side. Both Tim and Stephanie ignore it, too caught up in their squabbling.
“You’re as tall as me” he mutters, using his hand to show their size for emphasis, drawing a straight line across their heads.
Steph smirks, “Just because I’m tall doesn't mean you should be too. How am I supposed to stuff you into a locker now.”
She reaches out in an attempt to ruffle his hair again, or maybe shove Tim down, to show him how short he should be. He doesn't know because he ducks to the side and pulls her hoodie over her face. Trying to gain some distance between them during the time where she's struggling to uncover her eyes so she can't get her revenge (that easily at least).
“Hey!” someone snaps, and Steph and Tim freeze in their wrestling.
“Could I please have that book you’re holding?” the voice is much more polite this time. Tim feels his insides grow cold as he recognizes it.
He looks over slowly and yep—
That’s Jason Peter Todd in all his sweater and glass glory. Somehow giving of the vibe of every young english teacher ever. Tim's mouth opens and closes without any words leaving and his hand only tightens around the book.
Steph like always, comes to his rescue in a way that makes him wish she just left him to die “I don’t know hot stuff,” she purrs in her most fake flirty voice, leering blatantly as she gives him a once over.
Jason visibly flounders at that, clearly caught off guard by Steph's sudden switch from toddler to twenty year old hot lady. She jabs an elbow into his side again like she could hear what he was thinking. Leaving Tim to rub the area as he scowls at the side of her head.
“Maybe if we get your number out of it.” she blinks up innocently at Jason.
(Tim feels vindicated in guessing Jason would be just a little bit taller than her.)
Jason frowns “Look, I don’t know what jealousy game you’re trying to play here” Tim’s stomach drops, oh no Steph is going to ruin it. ”But I’m not going to give you my number so you can wave it in your boyfriends face over there. If you got some kind of relationship problem you should talk it out and not involve innocent bystanders.”
As Jason speaks he crosses his arms, but it just draws attention to the way his sweater is straining over his pecs and no, Tim does not have a tit kink thank you very much Steph. He knows Steph is thinking the same anyways by how she’s suddenly clutching his hand.
“Now can I get the book?”
Tim makes some kind of startled sound when Jason's eyes land on him, and oh he had already known that the guy had pretty eyes but usually Jason was looking at the books he was checking out and not at Tim. Seeing that intense focus suddenly on him makes Tim’s brain all blank “uhm” he tries, but he doesn’t really know anymore what Jason wants from him.
Steph snickers at his side and he holds back from hitting her because he’s a good boyfriend who doesn’t hit his girlfriend for laughing at him even when he could.
Jason blinks back “Are you serious?” he ask incredulous, “the book, that are you holding. Can I have that?” he says the last part very slow and forcefully, Tim kind of wants to bristle at him.
Instead he decides to be reasonable and hand it over, but before Jason can grab it Steph snaps it out of his hands.
“A book for a number” she repeats, “And we totally don’t have relationship problems.”
“You were squabbling like little kids”
“That’s how I show love!”
Jason's eyebrows draw up in disbelief and all Tim could do was wonder if he plucked them, no man should have that perfect eyebrows. “Why would you want my number anyways?” Jason asks.
Steph grins at him, flickering her eyes up and down, stopping pointedly to stare at his chest and thighs. It's fascinating to watch someone else be subjected to her predatory stare and be affected by it. Tim kinda (totally) wants to explore how far down that flush spreads. (If it darkened the skin of his pecs too)
“I’d say you’re quite a catch hot stuff.” Her leer this time is something copied straight out of a cheap porno, Tim would be impressed, if he didn't feel like the ground should open and swallow him whole.
It’s as if their many years together have totally destroyed all of Steph's abilities at flirting.
Though… considering how their relationship started, maybe she had always been as hopeless as him, and he just had never seen it. Too awstruck by her personality and confidence to realize that she was improvising and fumbling as much as him.
Jason's gaze flicker over to Tim again, eyeing him warily.
"And you?" he asks, "are you also on board with this?" he gestures weakly into Steph's direction.
"Oh he's more than on board." Steph answers for Tim, throwing her elbow over his shoulder and forcing him to bend over slightly. "In fact he's-"
This time it's his turn to elbow her sharply, though she seems to have been expecting it and dances out of the way with a laugh.
He rights himself, straightening his t-shirt unnecessary so he has something to do with his hands that isn't fluttering them around nervously.
"I-" he starts, trying to find the right words. Jason is watching him, waiting for an answer, Tim doesn't feel like he's imagining the hopeful look in Jason's eyes.
"Yes." he says finally.
Jason hums, flickering his gaze between them, and Tim is confident he's checking them both out.
Before he reaches for the pen and papers they keep at the checkout. He quickly scrawls something onto it, before sliding it back over and Tim can make out that it's a number. He quickly snatches it up and stuffs it into his own pocket so Steph doesn't get any ideas.
Steph crows in delight besides him, bouncing over to hand Jason his book.
He smirks at her, "I'll be expecting a message from you both after closing." he says, turning around and leaving in the direction of his table again.
this one just kinda spilled out~ i hope you like it!
Timothy's hands glide up Damian's sides; his shirt bunching, raising to expose the skin of his stomach. It makes him shiver, teeth digging into his lower lip.
"Damian," Timothy says, kiss-swollen lips wrapping around his name like a caress. He almost shivers again. "Do you trust me?"
Timothy looks up at him; the icy blue of his iris nearly eclipsed by his pupils, blown-wide with desire. It reminds him, distinctly, of the wide, unblinking stare of a feline about to pounce. His heart rate picks up speed; a rabbit-quick thrum against his rib cage.
He is the one straddling Timothy's thighs, and yet---he feels caught, trapped; the prey to Timothy's predator.
"Should I?" He means for the question to come out light, playful... but instead it comes out on a trembling exhale.
Timothy's mouth quirks. "You're the only one who can answer that, bitty bird." The childish nickname Richard adorned him with should set his teeth on edge, especially now, like this. It doesn't. "C'mon, Dami." Timothy leans up, soft lips press against the underside of his jaw. "Do you trust me?"
Damian shudders; the breathy noise that tumbles from his mouth makes his skin prickle, burn. There is only one answer he can give. "Yes."
The flash of Timothy's teeth when he smiles has Damian's abdominal muscles tighten. His heart pounds in his ears when hands grip his hips, tight enough to bruise. Timothy flips them; Damian's back hits the sheets, the air knocked from his lungs.
Timothy is a sharp, hungry thing over Damian and the creature inside of him, the thing woken by Timothy's touch, by the molten press of his kiss, demands that he submit to it. Demands he offer up his soft, vulnerable belly and allow himself to be devoured.
