jason todd is no coward. especially not in bed. he'd literally do anything and everything you ask, especially during sex.
he doesn't let anything get in the way of his personal time with you, so when you begrudgingly tell him you're on your period when he's already hovering over you, his boner pressing insistently against your thigh, he can't help the confused look that takes over his face.
"wha-" he also can't help but smirk at the sheer ridiculousness of you thinking a little blood is going to stop him from making you feel good. "baby..." he shakes his head, running his big fingers through your hair, "you think some blood's g'na scare me off?" he asks, "think i don't see that shit everyday, hm?" he speaks, pressing kisses to your the sensitive skin of your neck.
"s'gross, jay!" you whine, but you don't dare to stop him from nipping at your skin.
"angel, i really, really don't care" he says genuinely, somewhat fed up, and also somewhat offended that you think he could ever find you gross. "jus lemme make you feel good, honey," he already starts to work your shorts off, not caring to listen to anymore of your half-assed protests.
who are you to say no? especially when he's speaking oh so gently to you, and treating you with the most care when you're in such a fragile state.
before you know it, he's buried deep inside you and has you squirming underneath him, mewling in pleasure. "fuck!-" you squeak, every touch and every movement intensified to a degree that's overwhelming. he's moving in and out of you, his arm in between the two of you as he works at your clit restlessly.
"that feel good, baby?" he'll say, "fuuuck– you like that?" he purrs. he has no idea why you think this is gross, the blood only makes you warmer and wetter, in fact he prefers it.
his dick twitches violently inside of you whenever he looks down to see where the both of you are connected, his breath hitches at the sight of his shaft covered in blood and slick.
"s'not so gross now, huh?" he teases, a smirk that says he knows how good you feel right now, playing at his face. he's making you eat your words. "n-no jay!" you shake your head, your jaw slack as your orgasm approaches quickly. "yeah, that's right pretty" he coos, leaning down further to kiss you deeply, swallowing your moans and whimpers.
he feels himself grow closer as well, his balls tightening. it's only been about 10 minutes. he usually lasts much longer, but you're just so much wetter, yknow, given the circumstance.
you cum around his cock with a cry, and he reaches that peak right with you. after he spills deep inside of you with a low grunt, he just has to pull out to see his cum dripping out of you, the blood mixing with his release a plus. he swears he could cum again just from that sight.
he looks up at you, your eyes closed and your chest heaving as you lay there in a fucked-out state. but you can't deny your cramps have lifted. jason speaks,
SUMMARY: Jason Todd—Red Hood buys you a birthday cake. But sure, he totally doesn’t care about you.
WARNINGS: slightly suggestive content towards the end
TAGS: yearner!jason my fav, birthdays and birthday cakes, implied sex but NO SMUT, first kiss, love confessions, reader is mentioned to be a smoker(its one line+ its gotham so) and also has a dog, nicknames 'baby', 'hon', 'M'Lady' and 'Sir Jason' act surprised about my knightxroyalty obsession
ᯓ★ NOTES: old one from ao3, i got a really sweet comment that literally listed out all their fav things and i knew i had to post it here too. yes this is a repost from yesterday. also we like this header design?? this ones kinda ass but i have one for a bruce fic and that one's dope,
Red Hood doesn’t have partners. No, no, he works alone. You? You were…just someone he collaborated with sometimes—a lot. Someone he’s comfortable enough to remove his helmet around. Someone he knows well enough to know when your birthday is. But no, you aren’t his partner. He just…tolerates you more than he does anyone else.
Jason didn’t have to do this. He didn’t have to make a little mark on his calendar when you mentioned in passing about when your birthday was. He didn’t have to cram himself into a tiny Gotham bakery, list out your favourite flavours and get a cake. He could’ve aborted mission right then and there, turned around back to his warehouse and thrown the cake. But he didn’t.
Instead he’s here, unlocking your apartment door with the spare key you gave him and the cake tucked under his arm. Swinging the door open, he doesn’t see you immediately but can hear the unyielding sound of your fingers clacking away on your keyboard. There’s a soft bark before a furred creature comes running up to him, jumping up, trying to climb him.
”Eri! Don’t annoy Jason!”
”She isn’t annoying me.” His voice comes out distorted through the mask, and as if on queue, the dog turn onto her back. Jason never quite understood why the dog took a liking to him. ‘Animals can sense someone’s true intentions’ is what you had told him once. Whatever that means. Regardless, he gives the creature its belly rubs while balancing the cake in his other hand. “Good girl, good girl.”
After a couple of minutes and a very pleased dog, he stands back up, kicks off his boots and makes his way to you. He finds you exactly where he expects, eyes glued to your computer, nested in the middle of your computer set up and a cigarette in hand. One that he plucks out immediately. “Hey! I just lit that!”
Your eyes snap up to him, eyes wide and eyebrows frowned with a small pout playing on your lips. The light from the screen in front of you illuminates your face, highlighting your features and reflecting off your eyes. “Smoking is bad for your health.”
”So is getting stabbed, shot and poisoned.” You mutter under your breath as you turn back to the screen. You can hear the click and hiss of Jason taking off his helmet. He runs a hand through his sweaty hair as the corner of his mouth twitches up. “What’d you say, princess?”
You turn around to give him a sickly sweet, mocking smile, “Nothing, honey—,” you were about to reply sarcastically, “—Jay!” You gasp as he presents the cake box in front of your face. “Happy birthday, doll.” You squeal, jumping up from your chair. You have to refrain yourself from jumping into his arm and giving him a bear hug, but settling for snatching the box from his hands.
”You remembered!” You sing-song as a giddy smile plays on your lips. The sight of you, hopping around your apartment, smiling like an idiot because of Jason, dressed in what he now recognises as one of his t-shirts that went missing, made Jason…feel. He can’t help but reciprocate the smile as he plops down on your couch as you disappear into the kitchen.
“How was your day? What’d you do?” He calls out, groaning softly as he rolls his shoulder, he was slammed into a wall earlier but he wasn’t going to tell you that. “Well,” You started, walking out the kitchen with two plates, identical slices of cake on both. He opens his mouth to object but you don’t let him get a word out. “Don’t fight me. Eat.”
He shuts up immediately, small smirk on his lips at your orders. He loved it when you got all bossy on him. You pass him a plate, plopping down next to him with your own, the couch dipping with your weight. Your knee presses into the side of his thigh as you two naturally lean towards each other. “Why are you working on your birthday?”
”Someone’s got loads of questions today.” You say, sneaky look on your face, before stuffing your face with cake. Conversation flows as always between the two of you. You laugh and giggle as Jason smirks and gives you smiles big enough to reveal a hint of dimple.
It’s times like this that Jason adored. The domestic ones, the ones that gave him a fleeting sense of normalcy. Moments like this when he can forget about the Joker, Batman, Gotham or anyone outside the walls of your apartment. Somewhere along the conversation, the plates get abandoned and your dog sneaks onto the couch, balancing on both your legs.
Maybe you were drunk on the haze of the moment or maybe you just want to use that as an excuse but you reach out, as you continue telling him about the lunch you went with your friends, your finger twirls the white patch of his hair at the front, curling it into one fine curl.
Jason stills, actively stopping himself from flinching. You continue talking, something about overpriced coffee, but your finger wipes stray sweat from his forehead, flicking it away. There’s a slight flush in his cheeks before he turns his face away abruptly.
You pull your hand away and there’s a moment, of uncertainty and hesitation, your words sputter briefly with embarrassment flooding your face before you clear your throat and urge your dog off your laps. “D’you want anything? Whiskey? Or beer?”
“No. I…Uh, I think I’ll get going. I’m sure you have work to do too.” You don’t know what to make of his tone. It’s flat, emotionless and probably also answers any questions you have. You probably have pushed it too far with him, somewhere in all the time you’ve spent together, the lines blurred.
One moment, he’s just some new masked—hooded vigilante in town to set it straight, barking orders at you to hack servers and dig for information. A blink later, he’s just a boy, one that brings you cake and asks how your birthday was. One that listens to you rants away about coffee and brunch and one that your dog stupidly loves.
Or maybe you just romanticised it all.
That was probably your superpower. And overthinking, evidently.
Jason clears his throat and you snap out of your little thought bubble, ones that you retreated into where you felt even the slightest discomfort. Ones that Jason was very familiar with. Now he’s standing next to the door, red helmet in his hand. You blink up at him for a moment, collecting your thoughts.
“I was actually working on your stuff, I’ll send it to you once I’m done.” You trail off, your best fake smile on your lips. How did this interaction escalate like this. A few moments ago, you were warm and comfortable and felt like home. Now you just wanted to jump out of your own skin.
Admittedly, Jason had also gotten comfortable around you. A little too much. He never intended for it to happen, of course, but as cliche as it sounds, your presence just seemed to have thawed its way into his icy heart. And if buying you a cake wasn’t a wake up call enough, that moment back there definitely was.
Anyone, utterly anyone else, and their hand would’ve been cut off. But now, standing next you, all he wants to do is make you do it again, make you run your fingers through his hair, curl and uncurl whatever you want. You’re biting your lip nervously, your arms are crossed across your front, palms running up and down your arms in an attempt to warm yourself—perhaps from uncertainty?
For someone whose mantra is ‘communication is key’, you’re surprisingly quiet. You should thank him, not only for the cake but for sitting and listening to you, but all you can do is stand there with your mouth clammed shut. From somewhere in the apartment, your dog Eri barks, breaking the air of awkwardness for a moment.
“Ahem. Yeah…”
“Yeah.” Jason mirrors. “Happy birthday, again.”
”Thank you, again.”
Jason moves first, his hand, the one not holding the helmet and closest to you, reaches down to pick up his boots but you catch his sleeve. Like a child, you catch the end of his sleeve, tug it softly. His eyes skip to your hand and then back to your face, eyebrows a little high, those mesmerising green eyes a little wide.
”Listen. About earlier, I’m sorry if I spooked you—“
”No, no. It’s not…” Jason interrupts you, a soft sigh as he shuts his eyes and shakes his head. He takes a moment, collecting his thoughts, phrasing it in his head. He tugs his hand out of your hold but captures it right back. You let out a breath you didn’t notice you were holding, his fingers curling around your wrist, gloved thumb running down the back of your hand.
With a soft tug, he pulls you closer, bringing your hand up to his face, pressing a kiss to your knuckles as you let out a soft giggle. “M’Lady.” He lets out a soft chuckle against your hand himself. “Yes, Sir Jason?” There’s back the stupid spark between you pair. A silence, a comfortable one now, sharing grins and standing maybe a little too close.
You can feel his body heat, warm hand massaging circles into the back of yours, Not dropping your hand but lowering the union. “Wasn’t you. Just…got stuck in my head earlier.” His voice is low, a whisper meant just for you as though you were in a room full of people even though it was just you two and your dog.
”You also,” He pauses dramatically, “Look gorgeous.” You can’t help but laugh out, muttering a sarcastic ‘yeah right’. You had dressed up for lunch but now? Your eye makeup was smudged, lipstick gone expect for the lining, hair up all messy and in your pajamas—technically just Jason’s shirt that you were practically swimming in.
“I mean it, baby. You’re always beautiful.”
Oh fuck. You don’t want to acknowledge all the emotions that went through your body at that. Baby. Always beautiful. Okay, okay, okay. Your heart is totally not doing summersaults and you’re totally not blushing from head to toe. Baby. He called you baby. Yeah, you’re being so normal about it, so casual. You were smiling stupid again.
It takes Jason a moment and the blush the envelops you to understand your reaction. “Oh.”
”Well. Thank you, darlin’.” You say as you put on a little British accent. That has both of you bursting out in laughter. You lean in towards him, giggling into his chest. His gloved hand moves up to your elbow, his forehead comes in contact with your hair and yours rests on the hard planes on his chest.
His musky scent engulfs you, motor oil, gunpowder and sweat. His laugh is a little rough but might be your favourite sound in the entire world, no better birthday gift than that. As the sounds of laughter die down a bit, you’re left looking up at Jason, chin on his chest, ghost of a smile etched into your face. You can’t help but admire him.
The usual harsh corners of his face as softened by his smile. His kind eyes, his dimples, his rough stubble from an uneven shave, strong jaw, and that golden heart of his.
Jason really, really hopes you can’t see it. Can’t see it in his eyes, everything he feels for you. Gosh, standing here, he’s so overwhelmed by it all. He can’t believe it, obviously. What is someone like you doing here with someone like him. He wants to take a picture of this exact smile of yours and carry it with him like a solider in war.
Jason doesn’t miss the way your eyes flick to his lips, when they do, your breath hitches of so little and your smile stutters too. He didn’t miss the way the look in your eye when he called you ‘baby’ either.
If this were a movie, a rom com perhaps, this would be the moment when the romantic jazz would commence. Jason’s pull you closer, ask you if he could kiss you, then actually do it.
So he does.
His hand on your shoulder moves to your back, pulling you in ever so slightly. You hum, in some form of agreement. He hesitates, mouth opening and stuttering. But the expectant look in your eyes gives him some confidence. “Can I…” Your smile widens. “Can I kiss you?”
“Yes!” You whisper-shout with an eye rolling like it wasn’t obvious. His own smile widens to the max, those beautiful dimples of his making an appearance, before he leans forward and presses a chaste kiss to your lips.
Your hands snake around his neck, one delving into his hair and pulling him closer. He groans as he feels you dreading through his locks, deepening the kiss, your body closer and basically moulding into his. His hands circle your waist. Your legs lift off the ground as he holds on to you like you weight nothing.
He pulls away for a moment, dazed but content expression on both your faces, only inches apart. “I’ve been waiting for that for a while now.” You whisper. “Oh, really?” Jason’s eyebrows raise up. You nod, eyes darting between his eyes and lips, cheeky smile. “Ever since you showed me your face for the first time. You will not believe the number of times I just wanted to grab you and kiss you senseless.”
“Oh, really?” He repeats, but voice filled with intrigue now. And a hint of disbelief. Sure he’s harboured feelings for you for a while now but…you saying you felt pretty much what he felt was…exhilarating. And a bit scary.
“Really.” One of your hand holds his chin, moving his face to the side to kiss the scar on his cheek. Jason’s eyes snap shut as he takes a deep breath. You pepper kisses, his cheek, jaw, temples of his forehead and back to his lips.
If he wasn’t holding you up, you would’ve collapsed just from the look in his eyes. He’s never looked at you like that, maybe he has and you’ve never noticed. He sets you down briefly, only to grab your thighs and hoist you back up. You yelp but comply immediately, legs wrapping around his waist as your hands wrap around his neck. He says your name softly. “Yeah?”
“I love you.”
”Oh” You say in a sharp intake of air, suddenly feeling a little lightheaded. You’re rendered speechless for a few moments. Jason visibly cringes,“Too soon?” he asks. You shake your head, pressing your forehead to his and closing your eyes for a moment.
Your dog, Eri, appears, circling the two of you on the floor, demanding attention. You both chuckle softly, having forgotten about your little furred friend. “Jay?” You say, hands coming up to brush his hair out of his face. “Hm, darling?” he replies, eyes still on Eri. “I love you too.”
His face snaps back to you, eyes wild. You’re obviously taken aback by it. “What? Did you think I wouldn’t say it back—“ Jason cuts you off, shaking his head with a smile. He pulls you back into a deep kiss as you hold his face. You don’t even register that he’s moved, walked the two of you to your bedroom. He kicks the door open, Eri following behind.
He gently lowers you onto the bed as Eri jumps in too, but is airborne and Jason lifts her off the bed. He places the dog down outside your bedroom door as you giggle from your bed. He gives her scratches behind her ear, “Sorry, gorgeous. I need to you give your mom a proper birthday present.”
”Oh? And what is that gift?”
You ask between your laughs as he closes the door and locks your poor dog out. “That depends. How do you want me first?” Earning a whistle from you as he pulls off his shirt and climbs on top of you.
so I shaved da poosay today🔥 (telling you this cos we should all know more about each other) and now im thinking about Jason getting mad at you for it bcs “where’s the hair?” and “it looks naked😒” and he’s being a menace about it too cos apparently he’s “rightfully angry” and starts talking about sum no eating out and no sex until the hair’s back bs
i love your writing btw have a great day mama bye🤭!!!
we should all be telling each other our deepest darkest secrets 🙂↕️
but this reminds me of @twentytomidnight post about reader shaving their bush which is sjdjslaksk amazing
but jason is legitimately upset. like this is an actual fight that you guys have. especially if he finds out after a rough night and all he wants is to get lost in you and when he sees nothing???? he's pissed
"you shaved?" he asks, staring at you like you just stabbed him. and honestly, with his dramatic ass? that would have hurt him less
"yeah, this morning. why?" you ask in return.
he's never acted this cold towards you. the way he's staring at you, like you've betrayed him worse than anyone else in his life ever has (which is saying a lot), your stomach drops
"jason, what's-"
"why?" he snaps
"why?" you repeat "i shouldn't have to ask permission -"
"no that's not-" he sits back on his knees and sighs and rubs his temples "of course you don't have to ask permission, i just...."
"you really like my bush that much?" you're almost mocking him now
"yes! of course i do! she's- she's naked now!" he's gesturing to your bare pussy like it's going to attack him
you laugh before shrugging at him, "i dunno. i just like shaving every couple of months"
and while jason doesn't argue with you about it he does lay down on the bed beside you, still grumbling, before wrapping his arms around you in a firm hug
"wait we were in the middle of"
"not anymore"
"jason, are you seriously not going to have sex with me now?"
"not til it's back" he grumbles. but that man, in love with you and your body no matter how it looks, can't stop himself from grinding into your ass regardless
may i request a jason x reader fic where the reader has a huge crush on jason but she thinks he doesn’t feel the same way because he basically always pretends like she doesn’t exist but it’s actually because hes hopelessly in love with her but he doesn’t want her to get in trouble with dick and also he thinks he doesn’t deserve her. i love your writing i can’t stop reading your jason fics 🫶🏼
The Art of Pretending You Don't Exist
navigation , dc navigation
requests are open
dividers by @cafekitsune
Jason Todd was exceptionally good at many things. Hand-to-hand combat. Marksmanship. Sarcasm. Making his family worry about him.
What he was truly, remarkably talented at, however, was pretending you didn't exist.
You'd noticed it about six months ago, right around the time you'd realized you were completely, hopelessly in love with him. It was like a switch had flipped. One day Jason was tolerating your presence at family dinners, occasionally making dry comments that made you laugh. The next, he was leaving rooms when you entered them.
At first, you'd thought it was coincidence. But after the seventh time Jason had suddenly "remembered" he needed to be somewhere else the moment you walked into the Manor, after the twelfth time he'd gone silent mid-conversation when you approached, after the twentieth time he'd looked straight through you like you were invisible—you'd gotten the message.
Jason Todd wanted nothing to do with you.
Which was devastating, considering you'd been harboring an absolutely ridiculous crush on him for the better part of a year. A crush that had started innocently enough—admiration for how protective he was of his family despite his rough edges, respect for his dedication to his work in Crime Alley, appreciation for the rare moments when his guard dropped and you saw the person underneath all that armor.
Then Dick had invited you to family dinner one night, and Jason had been there, leather jacket and white streak and green eyes that saw too much. He'd made exactly three comments the entire evening, each one dry and cutting and somehow hilarious, and you'd been completely gone.
You'd started looking forward to the dinners where he showed up. Started paying attention when he spoke. Started noticing things—how he always made sure there was enough food for everyone before taking seconds, how he deflected attention from Tim when their younger brother was clearly exhausted, how he softened almost imperceptibly when Damian forgot to be prickly for five seconds.
You'd fallen in love with Jason Todd slowly, then all at once.
And he'd responded by acting like you didn't exist.
"He's doing it again," you muttered to Dick, watching Jason's back as he quite literally walked away from you mid-conversation. You'd been asking about a case you'd worked together last month—a simple question about a witness statement—and Jason had just... left. Turned around and walked out of the room without a word.
Dick winced. "He's—Jason's complicated."
"Complicated. Right." You laughed, but it sounded bitter even to your ears. "Dick, I get it. He doesn't like me. That's fine. But could he at least pretend to tolerate me? We work together sometimes. It's getting ridiculous."
"It's not that he doesn't like you—"
"Then what is it? Because from where I'm standing, it seems pretty clear. I walk in, he walks out. I talk, he goes silent. I exist, he pretends I don't." You wrapped your arms around yourself, hating how much this hurt. "Did I do something? Because if I did, I'd like to know so I can apologize and we can move past this weird... whatever this is."
Dick looked deeply uncomfortable, which was how you knew he knew something you didn't. "You should talk to Jason."
"I've tried. He won't stay in the same room as me long enough for a conversation."
"Then corner him. Don't let him leave." Dick's expression was sympathetic. "Trust me on this—you need to actually talk to him."
"Why?"
"Because—" Dick stopped himself, clearly biting back something. "Just trust me. Talk to Jason. Really talk to him. Don't let him deflect or avoid or pull his disappearing act."
You wanted to argue that talking to Jason was impossible when he treated you like you were invisible, but Dick was already being pulled away by Tim for some kind of tech emergency, and you were left standing alone in the Batcave, wondering what the hell Dick knew that you didn't.
You cornered Jason three days later, which was harder than it sounded considering he had a sixth sense for your presence and an irritating habit of vanishing the moment you got close.
But you'd learned from the best. Dick had taught you patience. Bruce had taught you strategy. And you'd taught yourself that sometimes, the direct approach was the only one that worked.
So when you heard Jason was at his safehouse in Crime Alley—intel courtesy of a sympathetic Stephanie—you went straight there. You knew which building, knew which apartment. You'd been there before, months ago, back when Jason still acknowledged your existence.
You picked the lock (thank you, Damian, for those lessons) and let yourself in.
Jason was at his kitchen table, cleaning his guns with methodical precision. He looked up when you entered, and something flashed across his face—surprise, then something else you couldn't identify, then his usual blank mask.
"Breaking and entering," he said flatly. "That's new for you."
"You won't talk to me any other way." You closed the door behind you, leaning against it. "And we need to talk."
"No, we don't."
"Yes, we do. Jason, what did I do?"
His hands stilled on the gun he was cleaning. "You didn't do anything."
"Then why—" You gestured helplessly. "Why do you act like I don't exist? Why do you leave every time I walk into a room? Why won't you even look at me anymore?"
"I look at you." His voice was carefully neutral.
"No, you look through me. There's a difference." You moved closer, and you saw him tense. "Dick said I should talk to you. Said I should corner you and not let you leave until you actually explain what's going on. So that's what I'm doing. I'm not leaving until you tell me why you hate me."
"I don't hate you." The words came out sharp, almost angry.
"Then what is it? Because it feels like you hate me. It feels like—like I'm something unpleasant you have to tolerate occasionally when you can't avoid me."
Jason stood abruptly, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. "You should go."
"No."
"This isn't—you need to leave."
"Why? Why do I need to leave, Jason? What is it about my presence that's so unbearable that you can't even stand to be in the same room as me?"
"It's not—" He stopped, jaw clenched, hands fisted at his sides. "You don't understand."
"Then help me understand! Because I've been trying to figure out what I did wrong for months, and I can't—I don't know what I did to make you hate me so much."
"I don't hate you!" Jason's voice rose, and he looked almost stricken by his own volume. "I don't—fuck. I don't hate you."
"Then what?" You were close enough now to see the tension in his shoulders, the way he was holding himself like he was barely keeping control. "What is it?"
"You need to stay away from me." His voice was quieter now, almost desperate. "You need to stop—stop being around me. Stop coming to the Manor when I'm there. Stop working cases anywhere near me. Just—stay away."
The words hurt more than you'd expected. "Why?"
"Because—" He stopped, and when he looked at you, there was something raw in his eyes. "Because I'm not good for you. Because you're Dick's—you're his friend, and he trusts me around you, and I can't—"
"What does Dick have to do with this?"
"Everything! He—" Jason ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. "He trusts me. He brought you into the family, and he trusts me not to—" He stopped himself.
"Not to what?"
"Not to ruin you." The words came out flat, final. "Dick trusts me not to drag you down to my level. And I can't—I won't do that to you. Or to him."
You stared at him. "You think being around you would ruin me?"
"I know it would."
"That's—Jason, that's ridiculous."
"Is it?" He laughed, but there was no humor in it. "I'm a crime lord. I kill people. I've done things that would make you—if you knew half the things I've done, you wouldn't even want to be in the same room as me."
"I know what you've done. I know who you are."
"No, you know the version of me that shows up at family dinners. You don't know—" He stopped, shaking his head. "You don't know me. Not really. And you shouldn't want to."
"What if I do?" The words slipped out before you could stop them.
Jason went very still. "What?"
You'd started this, might as well finish it. "What if I do want to know you? What if I want to be around you, even knowing everything you've done?"
"You don't mean that."
"Yes, I do." You moved closer, and this time he didn't back away. "Jason, I've been trying to figure out why you hate me for months. I've been trying to understand what I did wrong, how I could fix it. And you're telling me the reason you avoid me is because you think you're not good enough for me?"
"I'm not." He said it with such certainty that it broke your heart. "I'm not good enough for you. You're—you're brilliant and kind and you actually give a shit about people. And I'm—I'm the guy who came back wrong. I'm the mistake Bruce couldn't fix. I'm the son who died and came back as something—" His voice cracked slightly. "I'm not what you deserve."
"You don't get to decide what I deserve."
"Someone has to. Because you clearly don't see it." Jason looked at you, and there was so much pain in his eyes that you could barely stand it. "You deserve someone good. Someone like Dick—not him specifically, but—someone like him. Someone uncomplicated and kind and—"
"Someone who isn't you," you finished.
"Yeah."
You were close enough now to touch him, close enough to see the scar on his cheekbone and the way his jaw was clenched and the careful way he was trying not to look directly at you.
"What if I don't want someone who isn't you?" you said quietly.
Jason's breath caught. "Don't."
"Don't what?"
"Don't—don't say things like that. Don't make this harder than it has to be."
"Harder than what has to be?" You reached up, and he flinched but didn't pull away when you touched his face. "Jason, what are you trying to say?"
"I'm trying to say—" He stopped, and when he spoke again his voice was barely above a whisper. "I'm trying to say that I've been avoiding you because I can't trust myself around you. Because every time you're near me, I want—" He stopped himself.
"Want what?"
"Things I shouldn't want. Things I have no right to want." His hand came up, covering yours where it rested against his face. "You're Dick's friend. You're—you're good and I'm—I'm not. And I can't—I won't drag you into my mess."
"What if I'm already in your mess?" Your heart was pounding. "What if I've been in your mess for months and I don't want to leave?"
Jason closed his eyes. "You don't know what you're saying."
"I'm saying I have feelings for you. I'm saying I've had feelings for you for months. I'm saying that every time you walk away from me, it hurts. Every time you act like I don't exist, it feels like—" Your voice cracked. "It feels like something in me is breaking."
"Don't." Jason's eyes opened, and there was panic there now. "Don't say that. Don't—you can't have feelings for me. You can't."
"Too late."
"No. No, this isn't—" He pulled away from you, putting distance between you. "You think you have feelings for me, but you don't. You don't know me. Not really. If you did, you wouldn't—"
"I do know you," you interrupted. "I know you're protective of your family even when you pretend not to care. I know you run a criminal empire but you have rules about who gets hurt. I know you read Jane Austen and know poetry and you pretend to be this big bad crime lord but you're actually—you're good, Jason. Under everything else, you're good."
"I'm not." He sounded almost desperate. "I'm really, really not."
"Yes, you are. And I—" You took a breath. "I'm in love with you. I have been for months. And you avoiding me, pretending I don't exist—it's been killing me. Because I thought you hated me when actually—" You stopped. "Actually what, Jason? Why have you really been avoiding me?"
He was quiet for a long moment. Then: "Because I'm in love with you too. And I can't—I can't be."
The words hit you like a physical blow. "You're—what?"
"I'm in love with you." He said it like a confession, like an admission of guilt. "I have been since—I don't even know when it started. One day you were just Dick's friend, and then you were—you were everywhere. Every thought, every—" He stopped, laughing without humor. "I'm in love with you, and it's the worst possible thing that could happen."
"Why is it the worst possible thing?"
"Because I'll ruin you! Because I'm—I'm not good enough for you. I'm not—I'm the guy who died and came back wrong. I'm the mistake. I'm the fuck-up. And you're—you're perfect. You're everything good and I'm—" His voice broke. "I'm everything that's wrong."
"You're not—"
"I am. And Dick knows it. He trusts me around you because he thinks I'll never—he thinks I have enough control to not—" Jason stopped. "He trusts me not to fall in love with you. And I couldn't even do that right."
You stared at him, your heart breaking for this man who thought so little of himself. "Jason, Dick doesn't—he wouldn't care if you had feelings for me."
"Yes, he would. You're his—you're important to him. And he knows what I am. He knows I'd just—I'd drag you down. I'd get you hurt or killed or—" Jason was pacing now, agitated. "You need to leave. You need to forget this conversation happened and you need to stay away from me."
"No."
"What do you mean, 'no'?"
"I mean no. I'm not leaving. I'm not forgetting this. And I'm definitely not staying away from you." You moved closer to him. "You just told me you're in love with me."
"Which is why you need to go—"
"Jason." You waited until he looked at you. "I'm in love with you too. We just established this."
"Which is exactly why—"
"Why we should be together." You cut him off. "Not why we should avoid each other."
"You're not listening—"
"No, you're not listening. Jason, I don't care about your past. I don't care that you think you're not good enough. I care about you. The you that exists right now. The you that's standing here telling me you love me while simultaneously trying to push me away for my own good."
"I'm trying to protect you—"
"I don't need protection from you. I need—" You stopped, gathering courage. "I need you to stop pushing me away. I need you to stop pretending I don't exist. I need you to give us a chance."
"I can't." But he sounded less certain now.
"Why not?"
"Because what if—what if Dick's right? What if I do ruin you? What if being with me gets you hurt or killed or—"
"What if it doesn't?" You reached for his hand, and this time he let you take it. "What if being with you is the best thing that ever happens to me? What if we're good together?"
"We won't be."
"How do you know?"
"Because I'm—" He stopped, looking down at your joined hands. "Because I don't deserve you."
"That's not your decision to make. That's mine." You squeezed his hand. "And I choose you. I want you. Not some perfect version of you, not some other person who's 'good enough'—I want you. Jason Todd. Crime lord and book nerd and protective brother and the man I fell in love with."
Jason was quiet for a long moment, and you could see him struggling with himself. Finally: "Dick will kill me."
"Dick will be fine."
"He trusts me—"
"To make my own decisions. Which I'm doing." You moved closer. "Jason, Dick isn't in love with me. Dick is my friend. And if he has a problem with us being together, that's his issue to work through, not yours."
"But—"
"No more buts. No more excuses about not deserving me or ruining me or whatever else you've convinced yourself of." You reached up, cupping his face with your free hand. "I love you. You love me. That's what matters."
"It's not that simple—"
"It is that simple. We make it complicated."
Jason closed his eyes, leaning into your touch. "This is a bad idea."
"Probably."
"You're going to regret this."
"I doubt it."
"I'm going to fuck this up."
"Maybe. But I'm willing to take that risk." You smiled. "Are you?"
He opened his eyes, looking at you with an expression so vulnerable it made your chest ache. "What if I hurt you?"
"What if you don't?"
"I'm not—I'm not good at this. At—at being with someone. At being—" He struggled for the word.
"At being loved?" you supplied gently.
Jason flinched. "Yeah."
"Then it's a good thing I'm patient." You stood on your toes, bringing your face closer to his. "Jason Todd, I'm in love with you. Completely, irrevocably, stupidly in love with you. And I'm not going anywhere. So you can either keep pushing me away and we can both be miserable, or you can take a chance and see what happens."
"Those are terrible options."
"They're the only options you've got."
He laughed, soft and surprised. Then, so quietly you almost missed it: "I'm scared."
"Of what?"
"Of this. Of—of wanting something this much. Of caring about someone this much. Of—" He stopped. "Of losing you."
"You're not going to lose me."
"You don't know that."
"No," you admitted. "But I'm choosing to believe it anyway. Because the alternative is walking away from you, and I can't—I don't want to do that."
Jason was quiet for a long moment. Then: "I don't know how to do this."
"Do what?"
"This. Be with someone. Be—be the kind of person someone like you would want."
"You don't have to be anyone but yourself." You brushed your thumb across his cheekbone. "That's all I want. Just you."
"That's a terrible deal for you."
"Let me be the judge of that."
He was looking at you now with an intensity that made your breath catch. "If we do this—if we try this—and I fuck it up—"
"Then we'll deal with it. Together." You smiled. "That's how relationships work, Jason. You don't have to be perfect. You just have to try."
"I'm going to be bad at this."
"That's fine. I'll probably be bad at it too."
"And Dick—"
"Will be happy for us. And if he's not, that's his problem, not ours."
Jason searched your face, looking for—you weren't sure what. Doubt, maybe. Fear. Some sign that you didn't mean what you were saying. Finally, he said, "You're sure about this?"
"I'm sure about you."
"That's not the same thing."
"It is to me."
He was quiet for another moment. Then, slowly, carefully, he leaned down and kissed you.
It was gentle and tentative and nothing like you'd imagined kissing Jason Todd would be. There was no confidence, no swagger. Just Jason, uncertain and vulnerable and kissing you like you were something precious he was afraid to break.
When you pulled apart, he rested his forehead against yours. "I'm still going to fuck this up," he whispered.
"Probably," you agreed. "But I'll be here anyway."
"Even when I'm difficult?"
"Especially then."
"Even when I push you away?"
"I'll just push back."
He smiled, small and real. "You're stubborn."
"You're one to talk."
"Fair point." He kissed you again, longer this time, his hands coming up to frame your face. When he pulled back, there was something lighter in his expression. "Dick really is going to kill me."
"He really won't. He'll probably say 'I knew it' and be insufferably smug about it."
Jason groaned. "That's worse."
"You'll survive."
"Will I though?"
"Yes. And I'll be there to make sure of it." You wrapped your arms around him, and after a moment, he returned the embrace. "We're going to be okay, Jason. Both of us. Together."
"You sound very certain about that."
"I am certain. About us. About you." You pulled back enough to look at him. "I love you. And I'm not going anywhere. So you're stuck with me."
"Stuck with you," he repeated, and there was wonder in his voice. "That doesn't sound so bad."
"It better not. Because I'm very serious about the not going anywhere thing."
"Good." He kissed your forehead. "Because now that I have you, I don't think I could let you go even if I tried."
"Then don't try."
"I won't." He held you closer. "I'm still going to be difficult."
"I know."
"And I'm still going to worry that I'm not good enough for you."
"I know that too."
"And I'm probably going to push you away sometimes when things get hard."
"And I'll push back. We've established this."
He smiled against your hair. "You're very annoying, you know that?"
"You love me anyway."
"Yeah," he said softly. "I really do."
And standing there in his safehouse in Crime Alley, Jason Todd's arms around you and his heart finally, finally open to you—you thought that maybe, just maybe, everything was going to be okay.
Even if you did have to deal with Dick's insufferable smugness later.
(Which you did. Dick took one look at you and Jason walking into the Manor together the next day, holding hands, and said "FINALLY" so loudly that it echoed through the entire building.
Jason had been mortified.
You'd just laughed.
And that, you thought, was a pretty good summary of your relationship: Jason being dramatic, you finding it endearing, and both of you figuring it out together.
something about the sound of you
jason todd x reader
summary: falling asleep on facetime with him when he’s away on a mission <3 soft, but a tiny bit angsty because jason is emotionally constipated (affectionate) and reader misses him a lot.
Your phone lights up at 2:47 AM with a FaceTime call. Jason.
You were already awake. You've been awake for hours, lying in the dark with the fan on, doing that thing where your mind won’t settle, but sleep won’t come either. Just existing in the gap between. You haven’t heard from him in days, and your thumb hits accept before the first ring is done.
It takes a second for the call to connect, for the black screen to resolve into a dark room—a safehouse, maybe, or a motel. The only light is the glow of a joint between his fingers, flickering softly against his face.
His eyes are low and glassy from the smoke. They’re pretty in a way he'd hate you for noticing, lashes casting long shadows down his cheeks.
"Hi,” he says. His voice is rough, scratching raw against your ear through the shitty phone speaker.
“Hey.” You pull the blanket up over your shoulders and tuck yourself against the headboard. You’re mirror images of each other now, propped up in separate beds in separate cities. “You okay?”
It's a stupid question. You know it the second it leaves your mouth. He looks exhausted. It shows in his shoulders, in how stiff he is. Every muscle is locked in place because letting go means maybe not being able to pull himself back together.
Whatever this job is, it’s clearly eating him alive.
His jaw shifts. For a second, it looks like he might say something sharp. Instead, he takes a hit, holds it, then lets it go slow.
"Yeah," he says through the exhale, smoke curling up past his face. “No. I don't know."
He pauses, and all you can hear is his breathing. It’s deliberate, measured. A pattern you’ve come to recognize: him trying to manually override his own nervous system. He does it after nightmares, after patrol, after those long silences that mean he went somewhere in his head that he can’t easily get back from.
“Can’t sleep,” he adds eventually, like a concession.
You don’t push or ask why. He won’t give you that. Not yet anyway.
The line goes quiet, and usually you can sit with it. But after the last few days, it’s harder, and a quiet me neither slips out before you can swallow it back.
That’s when he really looks at you. His gaze catches on the old shirt you’re wearing, his shirt, then drifts over the rest of you: messy hair, bitten lips, the dullness of your skin.
A frown pulls his brows together, the edge in his voice softening. “What’s going on?”
You hesitate. You didn’t want to tell him this stuff; you tried to tuck it away for a reason. Because how do you tell him you’re having a hard time without him when he’s out there risking his life every day? It feels like adding weight to someone already carrying too much. It feels ridiculous.
But those hazy, steady eyes stay on you, patient, waiting, and they pull the truth right out.
"It's just a lot right now," you finish after a while, sounding more vulnerable than you meant to.
"Yeah." He taps ash off the joint somewhere offscreen. "I know exactly what you mean."
And the knot in your chest finally starts to loosen. You can’t believe you almost didn’t tell him. Of course he didn’t dismiss you or downplay your feelings. He never has. For all his stubbornness, all the pulling away and going quiet, he’s never once made you feel small for needing him, even when you’d convinced yourself he would.
The next drag he takes is slower. Not so desperate.
"That helping?" you ask.
He glances at the joint, then back at you. "Not really."
He holds your gaze for a long moment. You can almost see him deciding whether to say it. When he does, it’s quiet, almost boyish: “Keep talking.”
The weight of that settles beneath your ribs, steady. Jason Todd, who would rather bleed out in an alley than admit he needs someone, is asking you to keep talking because maybe your voice is doing what the smoke can’t.
So you do.
You tell him about the book you've been trying to finish, how you keep rereading the same page because your brain won't hold the sentences. You tell him about the rain earlier, how it smelled. You tell him about the stupid thing that made you laugh three days ago that you saved to tell him and then forgot until right now.
He doesn't interrupt. The joint burns down between his fingers, forgotten, and his blinks start getting longer. He sinks lower against the pillows without seeming to realize it, the camera tilting with him until he's on his side with one hand resting on the mattress. Close to the phone, close to you.
You keep going. You tell him you miss him. You tell him the bed's too big without him.
His eyes flutter closed, and his breathing slows, deepens, losing that tight, controlled edge. He doesn’t open them again.
You smile, small and soft. He’s finally asleep. Truly asleep—the kind that doesn’t come easy, the kind that never seems to stay.
You don't hang up, just turn the brightness down, set the phone on the pillow beside you, and close your eyes to the sound of him breathing. It’s not the same as having him here. Not his weight on the mattress, not his arm heavy across your waist, not his heartbeat under your ear.
But it’s him, alive and still yours, even from miles away.
You fall asleep twenty minutes later, and the call runs until morning.
A COVERT OPERATION . you’re not jason’s girl, except you kinda are. pairing ! ex!jason todd x fem!reader wc ! 4.5k warnings ! sfw. fluff. written like a disaster rom com with more com than rom, jealous ex bf! jason, mr. spanky appearance sorta, a creepy unnamed guy appears + a misogynist asshole. reader does not take any shit. so yeah. mentions of alcohol consumption, cigarette smoking (reader & jason) + nicknames used : baby & amore (towards reader).
🗒️ based on this request and italian-american bf jason i & ii. also yeah, he’s pathetic and grovels a little.
art creds : @/shr0uds
now playing ! why don’t you do right — peggy lee 🎧
The first time it happened, you felt bad for the poor guy.
“Jay’s girl, huh?” You turned at the sound of the voice, the warm bar lights casting a harsh glow over the man’s frame.
Sly, slimeball, or whatever the hell the guy told the bartender his name was as he racked up his tab — eyed you up and down, dark hair gelled to the side and a finger idling at the rim of his glass. He was huge, even from where he sat hunched against the side of the bar, his head tilted to the side and legs open in your direction.
You ignored him, plucking the toothpick from your glass and sinking your teeth into the cherry. How long had it been since you and Jason broke up? A week? Two maybe? Not that you’d seen him around lately to keep the score.
He was like that, with his profound ability of becoming a ghost and slinking away to the darkest crevices of the world, never to be seen unless he willed it, which you cursed the son of a bitch for because here you were with the utter bad luck of not being able to do the same.
His neighborhood was also your neighborhood.
His friends were your friends — some who you consider family, and while it might’ve been cute at first to be known as Jay’s Girl™ from here in some washed up family owned bar all the way to the best food joints in Little Italy then to every bookstore in the Bowery and back — it afforded you no anonymity. Or rather, no time to mourn your failed relationship while pretending not to, because God forbid a girl just wants to get a drink at 9 PM without someone mentioning Jay.
“This guy givin’ you trouble?” Paulie, sweet, pure hearted Paulie who’d never hurt a fly — except for that one time he put three guys in the hospital for casing his joint sometime last Christmas — murmured to you, his hands busy drying a glass with the fluffy white towel slung over his shoulder.
“Cause I can get him outta here if he’s giving you a hard time.”
“I’m all good, thanks P,” you smiled, lifting your glass over the bartop to nudge his wrist. “Buuuut, you can top me up again.”
“You’re out of it, kid,” he laughed, but took the glass from you anyway. He hadn’t asked you about Jason the whole night, and despite how refreshing it was, it still felt sort of odd.
Did everybody know where he was except you? Or was the alcohol finally turning you into the pitiful sap you always knew you were?
That solace turned reflection was cut short however.
“I’m just saying, everybody’s skirtin’ around it and looking at me sideways.” The Slimeball chuckled to himself, as if he expected the tiny crowd to join in his amusement. “But you’re a good looking girl… like a fine piece a’ somethin’ you know?”
Paulie, in the middle of mixing your drink, looked to you, then to the guy, and back to you again.
You only shrugged. Not tonight. Please, not tonight.
“What? Are you shy?” The guy turned to face you now, the sleazy grin of his face growing by the second. “Don’t pay attention to them, baby, focus on me.” His stool scraped the floor with a high pitched squeak and in the next second he was on his feet towards you.
Immediately, you tensed, but he leaned forward just as quickly. “You actually need to back up—”
“Hey, man— you need to watch it. Jace doesn’t play about that one,” came a random voice you’re sure you recognize, another neighborhood cousin or something.
“And you need to mind your fuckin’ business,” Grimey Guy whipped his head around. “Cause if that’s true, it’s his fault for not watching his girl.”
Upon turning around though, he reached a hand out to touch you.
Your drink was already raised halfway when Paulie and another guy rounded the counter and practically yanked the guy out of his chair. For good measure — and some well needed release of frustration — you downed half your drink then threw the rest in his face, after which he was dragged out back and kicked out — and maybe kicked around a bit, who knows?
But, Jay’s Girl remained triumphant, and the fairytale lived on, until it didn’t. Sort of.
“Well, that sure is a sight.” Roy whistled long and low over the thumping bass. He twirled a Marlboro Red between his fingers idly, grinning like the cat that caught the canary.
Meanwhile, Dick’s mouth fell open, eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets as a hand reached up to clutch his chest. “No way... isn’t that…?”
“Shut up,” Jason, who stood only a few steps away from their little wives-at-teatime gossip huddle grumbled. His lips were set in a deep frown, eyebrows knitted tight and gaze dark.
A humorous sight, if one were to take into consideration that all three of them were in ‘disguise’ for tonight, gathering intel on some high profile guest here at Eden, aka The Cathouse, one of if not the most popular nightclub in East End.
It was alive, electric, bass vibrating through the floorboards and the scent of fruity liquor cloaking the air.
Across the sea of bodies was you, dressed in a silky little thing that was borderline obscene, and the very picture of everything Jason did not want to see, but so desperately needed to.
In truth, this was supposed to be Roy’s job but the fuck-up fucked up and so now he’s here with reinforcements — a bored Dick Grayson who should’ve been back in Blüdhaven yesterday but caught wind of the breakup, which he called ‘The Great Departure’ and figured he’d stick around to boost his poor little bro’s morale — so now Jason is here.
He’s here in this shitty club where some illiterate hog had his hand inching closer to your ass by the second.
You were dancing, hips swaying and chest heaving with the rhythm, yet despite the effort you looked perfect, every bit of you.
From the slight staticky halo of your hair to the soft shine of sweat on your collarbone that looked like glitter and stardust and all things sweet, to your lips that moved in sync with the lyrics of the loud music — those lips, even when painted or lined or plain he can remember the exact curve and shape of them around the syllables of his name, the hiccup of a ti amo, the whisper of an amore mio, the shout of a fuck you, when he suggested that maybe another break is what you two needed.
“Wow,” a whisper came from Roy and Dick nudged him so hard with his elbow that the fake mustache he was wearing hung loose on one side.
“Shut your fuckin’ mouth,” Jason huffed, downing the last of a shot of something whoever left on the bar counter. And that fucking mustache just kept itching him, Jesus Christ.
The hog in question, God forgive him, had his hands on your hips, chest pressed tight against your back — a little bird’s chest, Jason thought.
His uncle, or really his neighbor that he called Zio Laurenzo because it was just how he grew up — would say it’s a cardinal sin to not have some meat on your bones to keep a woman warm.
Did he keep you warm? Jason wondered. He knew he always ran cold, you’d tease him for it all the time but he didn’t even know why he was wondering about that now. Zio Laurenzo was a bum with a beer belly and two divorces under his belt. The only thing warm about him was his zuppa di pollo.
Madonna, he cursed in his head. He’d been listening to punks and bums all his life, no wonder he messed up with you.
“You’re a natural,” the guy whose name you’d already forgotten murmured against your ear. “You related to Lola Falana maybe?”
You laughed loud and loose, just the slightest bit tipsy and feeling yourself too much. It’s been a minute since you’ve gone out, a couple more minutes since you’ve entertained a guy just for the sake of it.
“Maybe.” It felt good. Not exactly fulfilling, but fun. You needed fun.
His hands guided your hips into a steady rhythm, your heartbeat matching each bump of the heavy bass.
You got lost in the music, in the heat rather quickly, your collarbones and forearms slightly slick with sweat and cold to touch but the alcohol hot inside your veins, the bumping and grinding of your hips against his even hotter.
“You still haven’t told me your name,” he shouted near your ear over the music, taking a gentle hold of your hand and spinning you around to face him. And oh boy, was he fine.
You told him your name with a playful smirk teasing at your lips, eyes hung low and a hand on his bicep.
The moment the last syllable left your mouth, the guy looked at you as if he’d seen a ghost, the heat of the club long diffused and an expression on his face that read bewilderment instead of sex.
“Repeat that?”
You said your name again and a hand came over his mouth instantaneously in utter shock. You could hardly believe it. “Woman, you tryin’ to get me killed?” He exclaimed in horror.
“What the hell are you even talking about?” Your lips curved into a frown.
He drew in a sharp inhale through his nostrils. “Look, you’re a nice girl and all…” he met your gaze and cringed just a little, fearful. “Like what I mean is, you’re nice— in a friend kinda way— like I wasn’t tryin’ to put no kind of word to you or nothing like that—”
The longer he spoke, the more your shoulders slumped and your nose scrunched up in confusion. Was this guy one of those fucking mood-swing-having kind of drunks, because the fuck?
“It’s just… you know, I don’t know what’s the situation with you two and if you’re steppin’ out,” he went on, scratching the back of his neck. “But I can’t go there— not that I was trying to, of course! Let’s get that solid— cause you’re Jay’s girl and I—”
“Excuse me?”
“Nah, I’m good.” He shook his head firmly. “Everybody knows he doesn’t play about you.”
“Everybody knows this?” Your face screwed up in a mix of disbelief and offense. “Listen, we broke up—”
He barked a laugh, right in your face. “Look, dolly, I came for a good time, not to get my ass beat. So I suggest you sing that little freshly divorced song with like, I don’t know, at least six feet between us.”
“Are you serious right now?”
“You have a good night,” he shrugged. “And congrats when you two get back together,” he said, giving you a quick nod before he walked away, easing between swaying bodies in the direction of the bar.
“Fucking punk!” You yelled after him. What a drag.
“Do I have to keep wearing this mustache?” Dick groaned, index finger itching at his upper lip. He was sitting on one of the barstools, attempting to survey the crowd.
“Oh, lookey here!” Roy’s posture straightened and his teeth shone in a grin, a tiny umbrella that he plucked from a glass idly twirling between his forefinger and thumb. “Cassio is steadily approaching.”
He turned to Dick who gave him a quizzical look.
“You’re not well read at all, man,” he continued, tossing the umbrella towards a brooding Jason, leaning against the bar with his hands crossed over his chest.
“And who are you supposed to be, Bianca?” Jason’s brows rose, then his expression shifted as he realized who Cassio was in question — the fucker that was dancing with you earlier.
A silence fell over the group as the guy rounded the bar and ordered a drink, scratching at his brow. He looked at Roy, then at Dick, both pretending not to look back at him.
Then he looked at Jason who was staring him head on.
“Do I know you?” The guy squinted, brows furrowed and head tilted forward. “You from around here?”
“No.” Jason responded, voice a little deeper for his disguise, or maybe something else entirely. Either way, it was fucking hilarious.
“Ah,” the guy nodded, looking away. The air was heavy and awkward, and Roy’s lips pursed with the effort of holding back a laugh.
“So, uh,” Dick cleared his throat, fingers thrumming against the bartop. “That’s a nice necklace, man.”
The guy looked up at him oddly. “You tryna rob me or something?”
There was a pause, and Dick stuttered slightly before the guy chuckled. “Just fucking with you, sorry. But, yeah, thanks,” he reached a hand up to finger the chain. It was a silver cross with a few tiny diamonds. “My girl got it for me.”
Jason’s jaw ticked.
“Oh, you don’t say?” Roy grinned. Dick turned away to stifle a laugh under his mustache. “Damn. That’s real sweet, huh, Johnny?”
Johnny — or Jason, grunted under his breath in response. “Li mortacci tua.”
No way you moved on already. And least of all with BirdChest. No way, there’s just no way.
He reached for the Marlboro Red that Roy abandoned on the bartop and fished a lighter out of his pants pocket. Before he could light it, Dick snatched it from his hands.
“Yeah, she’s a real nice girl… nags like hell though,” Random guy who you might’ve possibly moved on with, said. “Just the way these broads are, I guess.”
“It’s a bit much talkin’ shit about a lady who can’t defend herself ‘cause she’s across the room,” Jason intervened. Which he might as well, now that the scrub was calling you out of your name and he didn’t have a cigarette between his teeth because somebody felt like parenting him on what should be a covert operation.
“Oh, that one? Nah, not her.” The guy shrugged, sipping his drink. “That one just set me up to fucking die, can you believe that shit? Came out to escape the nagging and what I get instead is a one way ticket to Death Row.”
“What do you mean?” Dick leaned closer, and when Roy looked at him with a bottom lip drawn between his teeth to hold a laugh, he only shrugged. Good goss is good goss.
“She’s a real cute thing, you saw her right?” Roy and Dick nodded simultaneously. Jason scoffed. “We’re dancing, right? And I’m feeling her and she’s feeling me—”
“Yeah, fuckin’ stunad…” Jason grumbled to himself.
“Then I go and ask her name, she tells me, and I’m thinking to myself, where do I know this piece from, y’know?” The guy continued. He shook his head. “Man, would you believe that’s Jay’s girl?”
Dick and Roy exchanged a look, then shrugged in faux ignorance.
“Jay? You know how many Jays are in Gotham—” Roy started.
“Fuckin’ Jay from the Alley, man,” the guy exclaimed. “Big, burly son of a bitch. The one with the scar on his face. Motherfucker’s built like a matador—”
“Oh, really?” Dick rested a hand against his jaw.
“Really,” the guy huffed. “And she’s just out here looking like that and dancing on people— have you seen the size of that guy’s fist? Fuck’s sake… I could’ve lost my life...”
Jason smirked to himself then shook his head to get rid of it. You weren’t his girl, you weren’t. Not really and not in all the ways that mattered.
Was he wrong for feeling a liiitle bit on cloud nine at the notion of Bird Chest the Handsy Hog fucking off because of two words? Maybe. But he’d been wrong about plenty of things in his life, he could do with another on his conscience.
“Yo, Benny!” Came a shout and the guy in question whipped his head around. Oh, Bird Chest Benny. You would’ve loved to witness this in real time, he thought.
“Go easy, fellas,” Benny said, downing the last of his drink and stuffing a few bills under the glass. “And watch out for that girl I told you about. Wouldn’t wanna see any of you on the Missing Persons’ list.”
When Benny left the bar there was silence between the trio, a heavy, amused silence as Dick cradled his stomach to keep from bursting out into a guffaw.
Roy was the first to speak, and he sighed, long and dramatic, rising from his stool to stretch his aching arms. “O beware, my lord, of jealousy! It is the green eyed monster, which doth mock the meat it feeds on—”
“—You’re done.” Jason interrupted, damn near lunging towards Roy who cackled with mischief, and Dick, who was still sitting there holding his stomach, had his lips pursed in intense thought.
“Oh, wait a minute, I get it now!” Dick shouted, rising from his seat. “Othello!”
“Need a light?”
Your entire body went stiff for a moment and a yelp escaped your throat. “Fuckin’ hell,” you whipped your head around, cigarette dangling carelessly between your fingers and eyes wide with momentary fright.
“Announce yourself first, Dracula.”
Jason could only fix his face in a sheepish little smile, stuffing a hand into his jacket pocket to fish out the lighter he’d intended to use earlier but didn’t have the chance.
The music from inside the club was muffled, the bass reduced to something like a tickle under your feet from where you both stood at the darkened back entrance.
You leaned forward, hands cupped and raised up to the click of his calloused thumb against the lighter, the small flame warming your fingertips.
“You got a ride home?” Jason asked, one hand cradling both of yours and raising them nearer to the flame, the tip of the cigarette finally catching light.
“Something like that,” you murmured, drawing in a puff, a soft plume of smoke leaving your nostrils. You withdrew your hands from his and he nodded, shoving the lighter back into his pocket.
He understood why. Of course, this wasn’t a thing, not exactly and not anymore. So he kept his hands stuffed in his pockets, still unable to hide the long gaze that raked over your features from where the timid light of the cigarette and the brightness of the moon cast shadows over your face. You were beautiful.
“What’s with the mustache?”
He blinked. “Huh?”
You were so beautiful and he was so stupid.
“Oh, that… that, uh…” Jason reached up to peel the embarrassingly fluffy, hairy thing off his face. “That was part of a covert operation,” he said, his voice coming out a little higher than he intended it to.
You laughed despite yourself. “A covert operation?”
“What’s it to you, Columbo?” He grumbled, a smile stretching on his mouth. He missed you. You hadn’t even been apart for long and he missed you.
You dug your heels into the asphalt, taking a deep drag of the cigarette between your fingers. With a long exhale, you looked over at him then looked away, but he caught your gaze in between, his gaze shooting to the ground.
“So… you and that guy in there—”
“Is that seriously how you wanna start right now?” You turned to look at him. “You were watching me?”
“I was gonna say sorry,” he looked up at you. “For ruining your night. He didn’t seem to stick around long, so I figured…”
“No, you’re not.” You shook your head, an almost bitter laugh of disbelief leaving your mouth in huffs of smoke. “No, you’re not, you fucking asshole—”
You were laughing, hiccuping through each harsh draw of breath and wheeze of laughter. Jason bit back a shit eating grin because of course you knew him well enough to call his bluff.
“You’re right,” he nodded, the words coming as a brief mumble under his breath. “I… I don’t know, I just can’t remember why we broke up.”
“If I remember correctly, you were the one who wanted a break—”
He turned his body towards you and interrupted. “A break, not a break up.” Jason sighed, raking a hand through his hair. “And then you just started throwing shit at me, what was I supposed to do?”
“I don’t know, Jason,” you flicked your cigarette away, outing the meek flame under your shoe. “Maybe call? Maybe come look for me? Maybe don’t spy on me with the Jay sanctioned protection squad?”
He straightened his posture, blinking slowly. “If this is about what happened at Paulie’s…”
You scoffed. “What happened at Paulie’s was none of your business. I can handle myself.”
Jason’s eyebrows rose in mock pride. “Yeah, word on the street is you waterboarded the guy with a glass of rum and coke.” The smile on his face faltered slightly, and his voice came quieter. “I know you can. I know that. It’s just different because—”
“Because I’m yours?” Your gaze met his, and you’d be lying if you said he didn’t look the slightest bit pathetic. Good, he deserved that. You wasted half a rum and coke because of his stupid ass. “Don’t make me laugh.”
He swallowed, taking his hands from his pockets and wiping them on his jeans. Okay, so yeah, he did deserve that. “I was an idiot. I’m still an idiot… And I didn’t mean to disappear on you like that.”
“But you did.”
“But I did,” he hung his head. “I did, and I fucked up, and you shouldn’t even hear me out. Because I was too much of a fuckin’ coward to come find you but seeing you here tonight, I just….”
“You just what?” He watched the way your mouth curved over the syllables. “Got jealous?”
“Follia,” he huffed. “Don’t get hasty, I didn’t say all that—”
“Oh my God, you were jealous,” you grinned wolfishly, eyes bright with amusement as you stepped closer to him. “You thought I was with that guy in there.”
“As if,” Jason rolled his eyes. “Look at him and look at you, in what world would you ever go for that sorta—”
“But I was with him and not you,” your lips pursed just the slightest, a tease, but nothing short of the truth. “Did it make you mad?”
A brief silence passed between you two, his dark blue eyes drifting from your eyes down to your lips, then back up again.
“What do you think?”
“Jealous, mad,” you raised two fingers, wiggling them slightly as you counted. “Mad or jealous. Uno dei due.”
“Brava,” he hummed. “You’re a natural.”
You tried to ignore the way your stomach did a somersault. “I’m still mad at you, and probably will be for a long time,” you said, lifting your head and pointing your nose at him firmly. “So, if you felt jealous, boo fuckin’ hoo, that’s your penance to pay.”
“I know that,” he nodded. “And I wouldn’t expect you to forgive me, not unless I really worked for it, I’m sure.” Jason reached for your hand and you let him, a calloused thumb stroking the back of your hand.
He was so warm compared to you right now, even though he ran cold. “But I do want to apologize, if you’ll let me.”
You pretended to think about it, your other hand reaching up to scratch the side of your head. “I mean, it really depends on the quality of your apology. You did leave me high and dry to go dress up as Mr. Potato Head—”
“Again, it was a covert operation—”
“I just don’t think a little apology is gonna cut it…” you sighed with faux hurt.
“I swear to God, I will get on my knees right now.” Jason said, deadpan.
You quirked a brow at him. “You wouldn’t.”
Before the last syllable had left your mouth, his knees hit the cold asphalt in front of you, those dark blue eyes staring up at you, electric and determined. Your heartbeat roared all the way up to your throat.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
“Jesus Christ, Jason—” you ducked your head in embarrassment, a shameful heat prickling your skin. You were suddenly aware of everyone and everything that could witness this display. A car driving by, a girl slipping outside to answer her phone, a guy idling on a bike parked a decent few feet away.
“Guardarmi,” he whispered. You looked up at him immediately. “Focus on me. Let me fix this.”
Your breath stuttered but you nodded all the same. “Apologize,” you said.
“I was wrong,” he scooted closer. “I was wrong and I’m sorry and I swear to you—”
“Don’t promise me anything,” you interrupted, looking down at him. The faintest redness dusted the flesh of his cheeks. “Apologize, better.”
“I messed up,” he continued. His hands rested on the dips of your waist. “I should’ve called or come to you but I didn’t. But I’ll fix it, I’ll do better by you. I know I don’t own you… I know that, but when you take me back—”
“If I take you back,” you clarified firmly. “I’m not your girl—”
Jason pressed a kiss to the hem of your shirt. “And if you don’t like it, I’ll set it straight so no one calls you that again, you know? I never need you to be my girl — maybe not even mine, I just need you.”
“Not your girl yet,” you murmured, finishing your previous sentence. “I don’t hear you apologizing.”
“Madonna Santa,” Jason nuzzled his forehead against your stomach. “I know, I fuckin’ know and I’m begging on my knees here, doll,” he groaned. “Mi dispiace, mi perdoni…”
He looked up at you with those eyes and you covered your face in defense. “Don’t… don’t look at me like that, it’s cheating.”
“Amore,” he whispered but you shook your head with a muffled mm-mm. “Ho bisogno del suo perdono.”
You peeked down at him from between your fingers, and he was still staring up at you with those big, wet eyes.
“Oh my God, get up, you look stupid,” you huffed, but a smile played at the corner of your mouth the whole time.
“Does this mean—?” Jason shifted, rising onto one knee.
“Fuck no,” you rolled your eyes. “At least take me home first,” you grumbled and he deflated slightly, the sadness evident in the smallest downturn of his lips. You had to bite back a laugh.
“But, you do owe me a rum and coke,” you continued as he rose to his feet, already walking ahead of him. Jason tried and failed to hide his enthusiasm, a grin blooming on his features.
“Yeah?”
“What about your little entourage?” You asked and he looked at you quizzically. “The rest of Mustache Incorporated.”
Jason’s brows rose in realization. Roy and Dick were still inside. Nevertheless, he shrugged. “They’re uh… working on some notes about Othello for me.”
“Othello?” You chuckled, and he caught up to your side.
“Covert operation, remember?” Jason whistled. “We have to have codenames.”
Heyyy, would you do a one shot where Dick wants Jason to meet his new friend(reader) because they think they would match, but what he doesn't know is that Jason and reader had a situationship(or dated, i just like the situationship better cause it's even more complicated) a year ago and it didn't end very well, so when Dick introduces them on a party the vibe is completely off? tkyy
Awkward Reunion
navigation , dc navigation
requests are open
dividers by @cafekitsune
Dick was practically vibrating with excitement as he dragged you through the crowd at the charity gala.
"You're going to love him," he said for the third time. "He's perfect for you. Same taste in books, same sarcastic sense of humor, same—"
"Dick, I really don't need you to set me up—"
"I know, I know, but just trust me on this one! You two would be amazing together. Plus, he needs someone good in his life. Someone stable and smart and—"
"You're not selling this very well. You make him sound like a project."
"He's not a project! He's just... complicated. But in a good way! A hot, mysterious, leather-jacket-wearing way."
You laughed despite yourself. You'd been friends with Dick Grayson for six months now, ever since you'd literally crashed into him at a coffee shop (your fault, you'd been reading while walking). He was charming, genuine, and way too invested in your love life.
"There he is!" Dick waved across the room. "Jason! Over here!"
Your stomach dropped.
No.
No no no no no.
Because walking toward you, looking unfairly good in a tailored suit, was Jason Todd.
Your Jason Todd.
Well, not YOUR Jason. Not anymore. Not after—
His eyes met yours across the room, and you watched his expression shift from casual interest to recognition to something carefully blank.
"Dick," you said urgently, tugging on his sleeve. "Actually, I just remembered I need to—"
But it was too late. Jason had reached you.
"Jason!" Dick clapped him on the shoulder. "This is the friend I've been telling you about. The one I think you'd really hit it off with."
Jason's jaw was tight. "Dick—"
"Isn't she great? She's a book editor, she can quote Crime and Punishment from memory, and she once told off a guy at a bar for mansplaining Hemingway to her."
"Dick—" you tried.
"I just think you two would have so much to talk about! Same interests, same—why are you both looking at me like that?"
You and Jason exchanged a glance.
"We've met," Jason said flatly.
"Oh! Well, that's great! Even better!" Dick looked delighted. "So you already know how awesome she is—"
"We've met," you repeated, with emphasis.
Dick's smile faltered. He looked between you and Jason, both of whom were very carefully not looking at each other.
"Oh," Dick said slowly. "Oh. Oh."
"Yeah," Jason muttered.
"When you said you had a complicated past relationship that ended badly, you meant—"
"Yep."
"And when you said you had a situationship that imploded spectacularly—"
"That would be the one," you confirmed.
Dick's face went through several emotions—surprise, embarrassment, realization, and finally landing on horrified. "Oh my god. I'm the worst friend in the world."
"It's fine," you said, even though it very much wasn't fine.
"It's really not," Jason added.
"I should go," you said.
"No, I should go," Jason countered.
"You both don't have to go—" Dick started.
"I'm going," you said firmly, already turning.
Jason's hand caught your wrist. Gentle, but enough to stop you.
"Wait," he said quietly. "Can we—can we talk? Just for a minute?"
You looked at his hand on your wrist. He still wore the same watch. The one you'd complimented once, before everything fell apart.
"I don't think that's a good idea."
"Please."
There was something in his voice that made you hesitate. You glanced at Dick, who was looking between you both like he'd just realized he'd stepped on a landmine.
"I'll just... go get drinks," Dick said, backing away slowly. "Very far away drinks. Take your time."
He disappeared into the crowd, leaving you and Jason in an awkward bubble of tension.
"So," Jason said. "This is fun."
"Hilarious," you agreed.
He released your wrist, shoving his hands in his pockets. "For what it's worth, I didn't know Dick was trying to set me up with you. He's been going on about this mystery friend for weeks, but he never mentioned your name."
"Same. He kept talking about his brother Jason, but I thought—" You stopped. You'd thought it couldn't possibly be THE Jason. Your Jason. The one who'd left.
"You thought it was a different Jason."
"Gotham's a big city."
"Not big enough, apparently."
Silence stretched between you. A year ago, silence with Jason had been comfortable. Now it felt like standing on broken glass.
"You look good," Jason said finally. "Happy."
"I am. Mostly." You crossed your arms. "You look... expensive. The suit's new."
"Bruce's idea. I hate it."
"You always hated suits."
"Still do."
Another silence.
"Dick really didn't tell you?" You asked.
"About you? No. Just that he had this friend he thought I'd like. That we had stuff in common." Jason's laugh was bitter. "Guess he was right about that. We do have something in common. We both know exactly how to screw up a good thing."
"Jason—"
"I shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry." He ran a hand through his hair, messing up the careful styling. There was the Jason you remembered. "This is weird, right? This is objectively weird."
"So weird."
"Dick's going to feel terrible."
"He already looks like he wants to sink through the floor."
You both glanced across the room where Dick was indeed watching you both with an expression of pure guilt and anxiety.
Despite everything, you smiled. "He means well."
"He always does. It's annoying."
"Very annoying."
You were both smiling now, just a little, and it felt dangerous. Familiar.
"I should actually go," you said, before this could turn into something. "This is your family thing. I'm just Dick's friend."
"You don't have to leave because of me—"
"I'm not. I'm leaving because staying would be complicated, and I'm trying to keep my life simple these days."
"Simple. Right." Jason nodded. "That's... that's good. You deserve simple."
"So do you."
"Yeah, well, simple's never really been my thing."
There was weight behind those words. Meaning you didn't want to unpack.
"It was good to see you, Jason. Really." You meant it, even though your chest hurt. "I'm glad you're doing well."
You turned to go, and this time he didn't stop you.
But his voice followed you: "For what it's worth? I'm sorry. For how things ended. You deserved better than that."
You paused but didn't turn around. "We both could have handled it better."
"Maybe. But I was the one who left."
"And I was the one who didn't ask you to stay."
You walked away before he could respond, weaving through the crowd until you found Dick nursing a drink and looking miserable.
"I'm so sorry," he said immediately. "I had no idea. If I'd known—"
"It's okay, Dick. Really." You squeezed his arm. "You couldn't have known. We never told anyone."
"How long were you two...?"
"Six months. A year ago. It was—" You searched for the right word. "Undefined. We were never officially together, but we weren't just friends either. And then it ended badly and we both walked away and that was that."
"What happened? If you don't mind me asking."
You thought about those last few weeks. The growing distance. The arguments about nothing and everything. Jason pulling away, you pulling back. Both of you too stubborn to admit what was happening.
"We wanted different things," you said finally. "Or maybe we wanted the same things but were too scared to say it. I don't know. It just... fell apart."
Dick looked at you for a long moment. "Do you still have feelings for him?"
"Dick—"
"Because the way you two looked at each other just now—"
"Was awkward and uncomfortable."
"—was a lot of things, but indifferent wasn't one of them."
You didn't answer. Couldn't answer.
Across the room, you could see Jason talking to Tim and Damian, but his eyes kept drifting your way.
"I need to go," you said. "Rain check on drinks?"
"Of course. And again, I'm really—"
"Stop apologizing. You're a good friend who wanted good things for people you care about. That's not a crime." You hugged him. "Even if your execution was terrible."
"The worst," he agreed.
You left the gala feeling unsettled. Seeing Jason again had stirred up things you'd buried. Feelings you'd convinced yourself were gone.
Your phone buzzed as you waited for your car.
Unknown Number: It's Jason. Got your number from Dick. Hope that's okay.
Unknown Number: I just wanted to say that seeing you tonight reminded me of all the things I liked about us. About you.
Unknown Number: I know we ended badly. I know I screwed up. But if you ever want to grab coffee and just talk, as friends or whatever, I'd really like that.
Unknown Number: No pressure. Just thought I'd put it out there.
You stared at the messages for a long time.
Then you typed: Maybe. Let me think about it.
His response came immediately: Take all the time you need. I'm not going anywhere this time.
You didn't respond. Just saved his number and got in your car.
And if you spent the whole drive home thinking about coffee and second chances and the way Jason had looked at you tonight like you were something he'd lost and desperately wanted back?
Well, that was your business.
Three Days Later
You texted him on Wednesday.
You: Coffee on Saturday? The place on 5th Street. 2 PM.
Jason: I'll be there.
You: Just coffee. Just talking.
Jason: Just coffee. Just talking.
You: And Jason?
Jason: Yeah?
You: Don't be late.
Jason: Wouldn't dream of it.
Saturday arrived too quickly and not quickly enough. You changed outfits three times before settling on casual but nice. You told yourself this wasn't a date. Just two people who used to mean something to each other, catching up.
You almost believed it.
Jason was already there when you arrived, sitting at a corner table with two coffees. He stood when he saw you, and you noticed he was wearing that leather jacket you used to steal.
"You're early," you said.
"Didn't want to risk being late."
"Smart."
You sat down, and he pushed one of the coffees toward you. "Vanilla latte, extra shot, light foam."
"You remember."
"I remember a lot of things."
You took a sip. It was perfect. Of course it was.
"So," Jason said. "How've you been? Really."
"Good. Work's going well. I got promoted to senior editor. Got a new apartment in Old Gotham. Started rock climbing on weekends."
"Rock climbing?"
"Needed a hobby that didn't involve overthinking. Turns out climbing requires you to focus on not dying, which is surprisingly therapeutic."
Jason smiled. "That's very you. Finding the most dangerous possible hobby for mental health."
"What about you? What have you been up to besides being set up by your well-meaning brother?"
"The usual. Keeping Gotham safe. Reading. Avoiding Bruce's attempts to make me participate in family bonding."
"Still stubborn, then."
"Some things never change."
"Some things do, though."
Jason met your eyes. "Yeah. They do."
The conversation flowed easier than you expected. You talked about books, argued about the ending of a TV show you'd both watched, complained about Gotham's terrible weather. It was almost like before.
Almost.
Because there was still that thing between you. The history. The unfinished business.
"Can I ask you something?" Jason said finally.
"Sure."
"Why did you agree to this? The coffee. After how we ended."
You considered the question. "Honestly? I don't know. Maybe because I never got closure. We just... stopped. And there were things I wanted to say but didn't."
"Like what?"
"Like—" You took a breath. "Like I was falling in love with you. And it scared me. So when you started pulling away, I let you. I convinced myself it was just a situationship, that it didn't mean anything serious. But it did. At least to me."
Jason was very still. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because we never defined what we were. Because I was afraid you didn't feel the same way. Because—" You laughed without humor. "Because I was a coward."
"You weren't the only one." Jason's voice was rough. "I pulled away because I was falling for you too. And I didn't know how to handle it. Caring about someone that much, it made me feel vulnerable in a way I wasn't used to. So I sabotaged it. Pushed you away before you could leave first."
"That's really stupid."
"Yeah. It really was."
You both sat with that for a moment.
"So what now?" You asked. "We acknowledge we both screwed up and move on with our lives?"
"Is that what you want?"
"I don't know what I want." It was the truth. "A year ago, I wanted you. Wanted us. But you left, and I put myself back together, and now I don't know if I want to risk falling apart again."
"I get that. I do." Jason leaned forward. "But for what it's worth? This past year, I've thought about you every single day. About all the things I should have said. About how I'd do it differently if I got another chance."
"Jason—"
"I'm not asking for anything," he said quickly. "I'm just being honest. Because last time, I wasn't honest enough, and I lost you. So now I'm telling you: I still have feelings for you. Strong ones. And if you want to give this another shot—actually define it this time, do it right—I'm all in."
Your heart was pounding. "And if I'm not ready for that?"
"Then I'll wait. Or I'll accept being just friends. Whatever you need."
"You'd really be okay with just friends?"
Jason's smile was sad. "No. But I'd rather have you in my life as a friend than not have you at all."
You picked up your coffee, needing something to do with your hands. "I need time. To think about this. About us."
"Take all the time you need."
"And we should probably do this—whatever this is—properly. Actual dates. Clear communication. Not just falling into bed and pretending that's enough."
"Agreed. Though for the record, falling into bed with you was never just anything."
You felt heat creep up your neck. "Jason."
"Sorry. Too much?"
"Little bit."
"Noted." But he was grinning now, and you were too.
You finished your coffees talking about safer topics—books, movies, Dick's well-intentioned meddling. When it was time to go, you walked out together.
"So," Jason said. "Can I see you again? Another coffee? Or dinner? Whatever you're comfortable with."
You thought about it. About risks and second chances and the way your heart felt lighter than it had in months.
"Dinner," you decided. "Friday. That Italian place in Bristol you used to talk about."
"Really?"
"Really. But Jason? We're taking this slow. Like, glacially slow."
"Glacially slow. Got it."
"And we're being honest this time. About feelings, expectations, all of it."
"Absolutely."
"And if Dick tries to take credit for getting us back together—"
"We'll never let him live it down."
You smiled. "Good."
Jason looked at you like he was afraid you might disappear. "Thank you. For giving me—us—another chance."
"Don't thank me yet. I'm a lot more guarded than I was a year ago."
"Good. You should be. I have to earn your trust back." He paused. "But I'm going to. However long it takes."
"We'll see."
You started to walk away, then turned back. Jason was still standing there, watching you.
"Hey Jason?"
"Yeah?"
"It's good to see you too. Really."
His smile was worth the risk.
Two Weeks Later (Dick's POV)
"So let me get this straight," Tim said, looking at Dick with amusement. "You accidentally set Jason up with his ex-situationship, they had an awkward confrontation at the gala, and now they're dating again?"
"Apparently," Dick said, watching Jason and you across the restaurant. You were at a table in the corner, laughing about something, Jason's hand covering yours on the table.
"And Jason's not mad at you?"
"Oh, he's mad. But he's also happy. So it's like, 60% mad, 40% grateful."
"That's not how percentages work," Damian interjected.
"You know what I mean."
"I really don't."
Steph leaned over. "I think it's sweet. You accidentally reunited two people who are clearly crazy about each other."
"I didn't mean to! I had no idea they had history!"
"But it worked out."
"No thanks to me."
"Hey, you started the ball rolling," Cass said. "Sometimes people need a push."
"I didn't push, I shoved them into an incredibly awkward situation."
"Potato, potahto."
Dick watched Jason laugh at something you said, looking more relaxed than Dick had seen him in over a year. Then he watched you lean in and kiss Jason's cheek, and Jason's entire face light up.
"Okay," Dick admitted. "Maybe it worked out okay."
"You're taking credit for this, aren't you?" Tim asked.
"Absolutely not. They did this themselves."
"You're totally taking credit."
"...Maybe a little bit."
Across the restaurant, Jason caught Dick's eye and mouthed "thank you" before returning his attention to you.
anything about jason being a man of few words is propaganda. unless he’s exhausted, he’ll talk your ear off about the books he’s reading, his arguments with his brothers and teammates, the criminal operations he’s plotting on. he’s quick and witty, and has no qualms making fun of himself or you. you try your best to listen, honest — but sometimes you end up accidentally tuning him out. he’s not offended by this, don’t worry, and he’ll fuck off if you get overstimulated.
but, god help you, his talkativeness absolutely extends to the bedroom. you cannot tune him out then.
every word makes your face hotter, your moans louder. he gets off on it shamelessly. he’s constantly mouthing off, talking about how good you look, how good you feel, how good you are for him. you don’t have to do a thing, pretty, just let him do all the work. the definition of ‘talks you through it’.
“there she is, there’s my girl. so pretty f’me… god, baby, if you could see what i see. perfect little thing. i’d give you the moon, baby— s-shit, stop squeezin’ me like that. gonna make me cum too quick, like a goddamn virgin. if i wasn’t fuckin’ you stupid right now, you’d think that’s funny. what’s that now? ah, ah, ah? uh, uh, uh? sound so fuckin’ cute, baby…”
i don’t think he’s much of a moaner, honestly. i think he’ll grunt, occasionally groan, but the real kicker? he whimpers when he cums.
“shit, ‘m so fucking close. gonna give it to me? yes, you can, i know you can. c’mon, baby, you’re right there. i’ll rub your pretty clit— there you go. oh, i know, sweet girl. c’mon, be so good for me. there it is— fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck— mmph!”
the only time you can guarantee silence is when you’re basking in the afterglow. once he’s sure you’re clean and physically/mentally okay, he’ll pull you right back into him in bed. his favourite place to be is the crook of your neck. his lips will press a few sweet, soft kisses on your shoulder, but after that he just wants to lie there with you and breathe in your warmth.
these are like everything that shapes his character in my head, i might not always add them to my fics but these linger in my brain a lot. abusers mentioned in ‘friendly to elderly and kids’ but no details. not proofread so if you see any mistakes, no you don’t ♥️
⭑ he’s 6’3/1.9cm
⭑ dimples. the prominent kind that subtly appear when he’s talking but properly when he smiles.
⭑ freckles. they’re like, barely a shade darker than his actual skin colour(paper white) but they’re scattered all over his shoulders and down his arms, they’re less prominent on his face, just a few scattered on the apple of his cheeks.
⭑ glasses. he doesn’t wear them as much as he should but he definitely puts them on while reading. he’ll lean against the bed headboard with glasses and a book propped against his chest and read. he’s broken multiple pairs btw and keeps considering getting contacts but can’t be bothered
⭑ big reader and nerd. that’s literally like, almost canon, but yeah, he reads a lot, mostly classics, his books are worn out from love, from how much he rereads them, the familiar words bring him some comfort. also borrows from the library to help support it, the place is like a sanctuary to him, smell of books calms him.
⭑ clean freak. heard the quote ‘people who grew up in chaos crave order’ and thought it fit him so well. even in canon comic panels of his room, everything is neatly organised. all his kitchen drawers are segregated. his bookshelf is immaculately arranged. all his clothes are folded neatly and also organised by colour or cloth. maybe he even stress cleans?
⭑ cooking. i personally believe he’d but a significant amount of effort into learning how to cook. just basic dishes, then he’d ask alfred to teach him how to make his favourite ones. on that note, eats a lot. he’s a big guy, he has a fast metabolism, he’s a crime fighting vigilante, the headcanon writes itself really.
⭑ manspreader. who’s surprised? he always does it only when it’s not bothering anyone. in his own home, when he’s spending a while in front of monitors to find something, even in the manor if he has the couch or something to himself. never if he’s sharing the space, if there’s other people on the couch or on public transportation, he keeps himself in check, giving them a comfortable space.
⭑ always faintly smells like gunpowder. he’s got a musky, manly scent to him, but somehow the smell of gunpowder never escapes him. if anyone got close enough, they’re catch it immediately. he doesn’t know why it happens, but it just does.
⭑ friendly to elders and kids. his neighbour is an old lady that lives by herself? he’s checking on her as much as he can, she always bakes him cookies or sweets. he’s also a brother to all the crime alley kids, he tutors them if they need it, or just someone they can talk to. tw. he also straightens up their abusers.
⭑ turns red asf. i talked about this a long time ago but this man doesn’t blush, he flusters. not even necessarily from flirting but if he laughs too hard, red. exerts himself too much, red. like hairline to chin, ear to ear red.
⭑ can’t flirt to save his lifeeee. he’s seen people—Dick and Bruce, be so suave while flirting or in books and movies but anytime he tries it, he just feels like it sounds off, cringe even to his ears. he’s also lowkey oblivious when he’s flirted with, it just flies over his head sometimes. i’m a big believer of rizz-less jason
⭑ wears red even when he’s off duty. this is probably just because i associate him with that colour but he’d be like clark from smallvile, always wearing red and black, leather jackets are always on, maybe even the same ones he wears as Red Hood.
⭑ always carrying weapons. this just makes sense for any non-meta vigilante. he’s got a few very well concealed blades and definitely atleast one gun strapped to him every time he leaves the (safe)house. heck, he probably has a gun under his pillow for safety cause he doesn’t trust the world while he’s asleep.
⭑ wind down time. don’t get it confused with relaxation, that’s books. i feel like he cleans his guns for winding down, it’s therapeutic in the way it’s almost habitual, mechanical. he goes through the motions of picking apart the gun, cleaning it piece by piece and putting it back together. i’m reculant about the next part, but yk how they say people in law enforcement find it therapeutic to take apart their gun and put it back together? timing that? maybe that too?
ᯓ★'s P.S. i obviously have more but this is too long already lol
don't forget to comment and reblog if you enjoyed!
← ゛masterlist ⸝⸝.ᐟ⋆
taglist꩜ .ᐟ ALL WORKS @hepprine, @apollos-notes, @cenna-luna, @solasyra, @vanillakirstein, @arabellas-barbarella-swimsuit12, @lovehadlovelost, @buckybarnesismyhusband, @xxreyofsunshinexx, @amandjslpz, @punkrockrr, @artisticmindsunite-blog, @freakkay09, @champagnesbiggestproblem, @shazzark, @winchesterslullaby, @bat2nsignia, @i-gotta-go-so-much-bigger
ALL DC WORKS @indigoscribe, @t1mbits, @coastalcowgirlie, @uxavity, @jaydennicole, @shadowviolets, @athenxt, @soggywhore, @rayaofstarlight, @madi-iii, @kekeanna266, @skin2bone111, @fanficboysarebae, @willow-vixen, @fairyspcll, @mathpotstew
JASON TODD WORKS @avengingangel14, @cherrylicious03, @the-ultimate-quokka, @drdeathifying, @queenofviolenceandnerds, @rainystrangerwasteland, @caterppillar, @profoundgreenturtle, @celestills, @only-dot-nicky, @sirenoftheeast, @s0zzbat, @vampiranne, @kiraflowersworld, @living-that-chronic-life, @lagataprrr, @nekkiotine, @miaszt, @starshinegrl, @venus-bby, @nigthwingsbaddie, @burndownyourparade, @itzmeme, @srenique, @rosieposiediditagain, @eclipse-vx
Summary: You just finished your first read of what soon becomes your favorite book series, and now you have to beg your gothic literature obsessed boyfriend to read a young adult fantasy trilogy.
Pairing: Jason Todd x Amazonian!Reader
Word Count: 3.3k
Content Warning: Fluff, crack fic, small bantering, maybe a little cheesy, chill bf/dramatic gf dynamic, cursing, second person, no use of y/n, the folk of the air SPOILERS
A/N: This is for this request from @inesvisible !!! Thank you so much for it, i had WAY too much fun writing this. As always I hope you enjoy
•───────•°•🕮•°•───────•
The book closes with a thud in your lap. Head in your hands you begin mumbling versions of “ohmygod” and “holy shit” under your breath repeatedly.
From the other side of the couch, your boyfriend lifts his gaze from his book with a cracked spine and raises an eyebrow at you. An amused smile creeps onto his face as he watches you digest the last pages of your book. It might be a little odd, but Jason always enjoyed watching you read.
The reading dates you would set up were some of his favorites. You’d make cookies, tea, light a couple of candles, and the tv echoed with a soft jazz of whatever hour-long animal crossing video you’d found on YouTube (from what you’d told him, they made you feel less lonely). You’d never get more than two pages in until you started making faces, the expressions that would cross your features made him feel like he was reading the book with you. At some points you’d start mumbling the scenes to yourself without realizing. It was such a stark contrast to how Jason read; he typically needed complete silence to focus, maybe a lamp next to him, and he wouldn’t move from his spot on the couch for hours on end. He’d have one pen, possibly a highlighter to annotate if he was feeling colorful.
The only thing you both had in common while reading was how immersed you both got. The tea would cool to a lukewarm temperature, Roku City would cast a purple hue across the living room long after the YouTube playlist ended, the world could be ending outside, but you would both still be on the couch. The only interruption of the night being when you reached across the small expanse of the couch, in order to push his reading glasses back up the bridge of his nose when they’d slid down too far.
It was perfect.
“Did you enjoy your book baby?” His voice not quite succeeding in hiding the amusement of your reaction.
Your hands pause momentarily from wiping down your face and meet his painfully green eyes, awe painted across your cheeks. “It. Was. PERFECT.” He knew right then what was about to happen. So, he shut his own book delicately placing the pen between the pages and sat cris cross on the couch waiting for the inevitable rant that followed every one of your books. “Jason, I can’t even put into words how fantastic this trilogy was- I want to read them all again already.”
He snorted while watching you flail your hands around while explaining the plot. His eyes momentarily glanced down to the unassuming cover. You paid no mind to his drifting eyes and continued explaining how a human girl became the queen of the fae, something about not wanting to kill a snake because it was actually her husband, how she killed it and actually got her husband back, and how the main character finally got some form of peace in the end. He nodded along cataloguing every word that left your mouth.
“Jason you don’t get it,” apparently his small nods and hums wasn’t the response you were looking for tonight. “All she wanted for the three books was power, it’s all she worked toward. She would never make deals with the faeries, she never trusted them, never did anything to sacrifice her power. But when he turns into a snake, she starts begging to any higher up to bring him back.” He watched your hands brush through the roots of your hair, testing to see if that will help you conceptualize the brain altering series you just finished. “She says she’ll make any bargain- that she would even resign from her position as the queen to get him back. Do you know how insane that is for her to admit? It’s not out of character exactly, but that level of desperation. Oh my goodness it was life changing, that level of yearning is so ugh.”
He smiles at your recollection of the novel. You always spoke so much more passionately than him, the way your eyes sparkled after you finished a story rivaled every masterpiece in the Louvre. Jason always admired how you wore your heart on your sleeve. Despite to what he’d admit, you were both emotionally driven, but you were the only one who was proud of it.
“Jay, you have to read it.”
That brought him right back to earth.
Now, Jason is always taking book recommendations, but he had his lane and he liked to stay in it. He knew what genres he liked, what he enjoyed; so, he very rarely experimented outside of it.
“Baby…” he draws out the nickname, and you don’t even let him finish. Crawling over the mess of blankets on the couch, you sit up on your knees in front of him.
Hands clasped together your head is looking down and he’s trying to bite back the nervous grin at your display. “Please Jay, pleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseeeeeee.”
He sighs out your name, and you look up at him hopefully. “You know I prefer reading classics.” Convincing him to read YA fantasy was going to be a difficult task, but you weren’t going to give up yet.
Dropping your hands you frown at him. His eyes narrow at the expression, he knew your tactics. “No-” was all he got out before you dropped the bomb.
“If you don’t love me just say that.”
He groaned and threw his head back. “C’mon don’t get like that.”
“I’m just stating the facts, Jason.” He brings his gaze back to yours, with a painting on his features that couldn’t be described as anything but unimpressed. Propping an elbow on the back of the couch you sigh in mock devastation while resting your head on your hand. “What’s a girl supposed to believe when her boyfriend won’t even read a book for her.”
He pursed his lips at the obvious manipulation. At his reaction, you stand from the couch. He tries to grab your arm to pull you back in, but you wiggle out of his grasp. It didn’t matter how much he worked out or that he was double your size, his strength was always going to be child’s play to you.
You pick up your book from where it fell on the floor, and your name falls from his lips like a plea.
That’s when it hit you.
You’re not entirely sure why that made it click, but you knew how to convince him to read the book. Turning away from him with a smirk, you walk the seven steps to the kitchen to get a glass of water.
His eyes are on your back the whole time. You hum for a moment before announcing, “No Jason I get it, it’s fine.” Alarm bells started ringing in his head, t levels of passive aggressiveness you could reach needed to be studied. That’s when you turn back to look at him, leaning against the kitchen counter, book still in hand. “But I’m sure if Diana asked, you would have finished them by tomorrow.”
His jaw practically unhinged at your statement with a scoff of disbelief.
When you were first introduced to his family a couple of months ago, his brothers teased him relentlessly. At first, you weren’t quite sure why they were poking fun at him with the fact that he was dating Wonder Girl. The general assumption was just that this is how brothers act, and you were the first girl he had brought home.
But after one too many comments about being Wonder Girl, you turned to Jason and asked a question that was supposed to be just for the two of you. Unfortunately for Jason, Dick heard. He practically howled when he heard you ask about why his siblings had a Wonder Girl obsession. Bruce did try to calm him down but it was no use; Dick had grown a shit-eating grin with a red-faced Jason threatening him from across the table. That’s when he betrayed his deepest secret.
Jason Todd’s childhood crush was Diana.
That’s when it clicked. Apparently, he was obsessed with Wonder Woman and Dick had to hear all about it in his early days as Nightwing. Alfred even pulled out a picture of Jason in a Wonder Woman sweatshirt and matching sweatpants, he couldn’t have been over than nine. He was missing one of his front teeth, but that didn’t stop him from smiling like he’d won the lottery. The photo was probably the cutest thing you’d ever laid your eyes on, Jason doesn’t know it, but Alfred gave you a copy of the picture. It’s treasured, hidden behind the photo framed on your nightstand.
His crush on Diana was the most innocent secret, and Jason had acted like someone had uncovered a body he’d hidden. He was nothing short of mortified when you found out, but behind the deep flush and scars on his cheeks you saw his freckles. A small ounce of evidence that the eight-year-old boy who became Robin was still there behind the years of cruelty.
There at that dining table, watching his family tease him, felt like a scab was healing. Because here, Jason Todd was more than just the Robin who once stared death in the eye. He was more than the child who watched the world fail him. He was the boy who let himself believe in magic again and allowed himself to fall in love.
Yet as much as you loved him, you never let him forget about his crush. It was most likely why he didn’t tell you or wanted you to find out. This was your favorite fact about him, and you used it against him constantly. It got to the point he made you agree to a truce where you wouldn’t bring it up anymore. He had actually begged you, dropped down onto his knees and all.
He knew you never meant it in a serious way. It was just really funny to you that he had a crush on your Diana, and the fact that he was embarrassed about it made it that much better. There was really no shame in having a crush on her either, it was a prepubescent rite of passage. It was harder to name people who didn’t have a crush on her at some point.
His eyes narrowing at you brings you back to the moment, “you said you wouldn’t use that anymore.”
“Yeah well, my word isn’t worth much.”
There’s a wrinkle in between his eyebrows from the confusion. “What the hell is that supposed to mean.”
Raising your arm with the book in hand, “you’d get it if-” you chuck the book at him. “You read the book.” The paperback hits him square in the chest and he catches it with his left hand, keeping it there for a second.
He rolls his eyes, but there’s a smirk he’s trying to hide. He never thought he’d get this life- to have someone who would laugh and read with him. He never believed he’d be gifted someone who would be soft with him despite all his rough edges.
Had it been anyone else, he would’ve told them to fuck off and forget about the book. For all his vices, his one virtue was that he could never deny you anything. He supposes that’s why he resigns to the idea. He was already picturing the smile on your face when he’d ask you about it. He could draw the way your eyes would shut from smiling so wide from memory.
So, with a deep sigh he throws his head back and mutters, “Fine, but I’m only reading the firs-”
Before he can even open his eyes or finish the sentence, your arms are wrapped around his head.
Your head was buried in the crook of his neck and the force from which you shot yourself across the room made him fell back into the couch. His hand instantly went to cradle the back of your head, with the other rested on your back as you laid on top of him.
You stayed like that momentarily, just lying there holding each other. The scent of your floral perfume felt like a breath of fresh air in the Gotham pollution he was accustomed too. Then after a second of him being able to breath again, all the air in his lungs is robbed from him as you prop yourself up over him. When he looks up at you, he thinks he can finally die happy. The way your hair falls around your face, the remnants of a laugh on your lips, the way you look incandescently happy behind your eyes- it was as if he was falling in love all over again.
“You’re going to love it, I promise.”
He gives you an “mhm,” since it was all his brain could manage to put together. He knew he would find some joy in it, even if he ended up not being fond of the book. If anything was tied to you, he would love it. It may not be his genre of choice, but he would find you in between the pages and that was enough.
•───────•°•🕮•°•───────•
As the days passed you could tell he was slowly getting more and more into the book. Even if he didn’t want to admit it, he was invested. You could tell by the little comments he’d give you as he read. He would pause in between reading and give you an inquisitive look if you were near, or he would shoot you a text or call. It made you laugh with every development from the first book.
“This Locke guy is giving me weird vibes.”
“Are you sure about Cardan? He’s kind of a dick.”
“Why won’t Madoc just let her be a knight? It’s not that serious.”
The updates he was giving you from the first book made you remember how much you’d forgotten.
“Dain’s bad news isn’t he?”
It was frustrating how easily he could decipher books and predict what are supposed to be shocking twists. There was Bruce to thank for that.
The call came in while you were watering your plants in your apartment.
“Madoc killed the royal family?”
The shock in his voice made you laugh.
“I told you, you’d enjoy it.”
He scoffed on the phone.
The next time you saw him he had finished the book. It was just a night for both of you to relax together after a long week. You weren’t sure of the specifics, but you knew he and Bruce were trying to crack down on something down at the Iceberg Lounge. He was burning himself out slowly but surely. And in a last-minute effort to give him a break, you planned one of your famous “wind down nights” with him.
He was currently lying on top of you and letting out soft moans into your neck while you played with his hair. For all his tough guy act, he really did love coming home and getting to just be an unapologetic version of himself with you. He didn’t have to be Robin, Red Hood, Bruce Wayne’s ward, he was just Jason.
And for the first time in his life, he knew that was enough.
“You can admit you liked the book y’know” Your voice came out breathless while his arms tightened around your waist.
He does nothing but hum into your frame. Shaking your head, you shift your head slightly and pull at the roots of his hair so that he can actually see you. Giving him a knowing look, he sighs in resignation.
“Yeah I thought it was good.” He mumbles.
You snort. “Wow I didn’t know it would be such a sacrifice to admit you liked something that wasn’t published a minimum of a hundred years ago.”
He sticks his tongue out at you in response.
A small huff of laughter escapes you, before you kiss his nose. “I saw you swipe the second book anyway. I knew you liked it regardless of what you said.”
“Then why make me say anything?”
“Because I wanted to hear you say that I was right.”
He rolls his eyes with no malice behind them. “I always tell you you’re right.”
Shrugging your shoulders, a sly grin grows on your face. “Still nice to hear.”
Then after a shake of his head, he leans in. The kiss was slow but passionate, full of everything he never had to say, that he was completely and irrevocably yours.
When he pulls away he’s got a wicked look in his eye.
“I think of you often, I can’t stop.”
It was a quote from the book- meant to be endearing you’re sure. But you can’t stop yourself from cringing at him.
“Oh my god,” you push him while you scrunch your nose and he laughs like he got the reaction he wanted. “You’re so cheesy you know that right.”
“Only for you baby.” He mutters retaking his place in the crook of your neck. “Only for you.”
•───────•°•🕮•°•───────•
Bonus:
“Stop moving your going to mess it up.”
“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.” He mutters while looking at your work.
His left hand is held in between both of yours. Your hunched over the bed while the brush of the black nail polish paints his nails.
“Jason It’s Halloween,” you mumble while focusing. “It’s not exactly unheard of to do a couple’s costu- There!” You pull away as you finish the final stroke.
He looks ever the part of the High King and you can’t help but snort.
“What’s so funny?”
“Well, it’s a little ironic no?” At the blank look on his face you decide to specify. “Well in the books Cardan is one of the fae and Jude is mortal. And well, I’m the Amazonian and you’re the human.”
“Is that one of the reasons you liked the book? It reminded you of us?”
“I mean a little bit, Jude reminded me of you though.”
There was an incredulous look across his face. “Really?”
“Yeah,” the answer was honest as it spilled from your lips. “When I first met you, you had the same distrust for the world which was warranted- for both of you. Then slowly, you started letting people into your circle and you actually became someone you were comfortable with. You see the same growth from Jude through the three books, and it reminded me of you.”
He looks stunned, as if he was watching you unlock the inner workings of his mind. You didn’t want to freak him out too much with the psychoanalyzing, so you dropped a little joke.
“You’re both also freakishly hot.”
He knew what you were doing. You’d done it more times than he could count. You had a habit of saying something funny when the air got to serious at a time that might not be appropriate. Yet, he couldn’t ignore what you said.
You’d seen him. He had been recommended so many books over the course of his life, but no one had shaped the recommendation because they saw a version of himself in a book. It was something he never knew he wanted. The version of himself that you were referencing wasn’t one he necessarily loved, but it still made his heart flutter. To know that someone saw every ugly nook and cranny there was of him and still chose to be with him at the end of the day. That someone would be there on the good days and the bad.
To know that someone loved him completely and blindly. He knew you loved him, but this made it feel like he was hearing it for the first time all over again.
He pulls you impossibly close to where you can taste his breath on your tongue,
“By you I am undone forever.”
•───────•°•🕮•°•───────•
A/N: Sooooooo this is my finally deciding that I’m going to do a reread of tfota.
𝜗ৎ tags/tw: nsfw mdni, indirect mentions of sa, insecure reader, trauma from past relationships, love starved reader, established relationship, good bf jason todd, p in v, missionary, love making, crying during sex (lol), angst/comfort, not proofread
ও˖ ࣪⊹ pairing: jason todd x f!reader
𝜗ৎ a/n: this is my favourite. song. ever. it's like, actually really dear to me and it breaks my heart that it's an unreleased song💔 it has different meanings for different people but this is the one that makes the most sense to me. i hope you enjoy reading<3
─ ⊹ ‧₊˚ Series mlist
When you were little, you dreamt of having a love like one in the story books. A love so pure it could break through spells and end curses, you wished with all your might that you'd have a powerful first love just like the ones in the Disney movies.
Often, younger you dreamt about your first kiss, how magical it would feel because it would be with the right person. Then this also happened with sex after you hit puberty, you wanted your first time to be perfect, you wanted it to be meaningful, maybe a part of you became obsessed with this idea, and maybe that's where the problem started. A part of you was always deeply scared that all your wishes were too much, and who would love you with all your specific needs?
Then you had your first relationship, and it was a joke at best. Your first kiss was stolen away by someone who took too much without asking, not caring if you wanted it or not. a sick part of you made you believe it was all your fault for the longest time. why didn't you stop him?
For a while you closed in on yourself, because what if the last thing you’d idealized was ruined too? Unfortunately, your insecurities screamed louder, and so you accepted anything that was thrown your way because you believed you didn't deserve more, which in turn ended with you losing your virginity to someone that didn’t care about your pleasure at all. would the disgust you felt about yourself ever go away?
Even after all of that, your hope didn't completely die. Plus these were all society constructs right? You were being emotional for nothing, it was stupid to attribute such a big meaning to things like that… Right? Partner after partner, you gave all of you without asking for anything in return, and in the end you always got hurt. So, slowly you stopped believing love was actually anything at all, you should've listened to the warnings and not romanticise something that most people saw as a mundane thing.
Kissing became a way to say hello, sex became casual, and after every encounter you felt emptier and emptier, because you knew you were slowly killing your old self, while also killing your mental health. It was a desperate attempt to find someone that’d make you feel validated, but the more desperate you became the more hurtful people you met.
Then Jason appeared in your life when you were least expecting it. And for the first time you felt like you were finally being seen. Your relationship wasn't a whirlwind of disappointments, he had his fair share of problems but you had never met someone so willing to love you just the way you were.
The first kiss you guys shared wasn't just good, it was perfect. It was everything you always dreamt of for your first kiss. but who would admit to such a stupid thing?
He was the first person to ever wait for you. Actually after you told him your history, after a long night the two of you shared venting about each other's pasts, anytime you tried to initiate intimacy, he told you he would be glad to wait longer if you didn't truly feel ready. And you didn't, but you were scared he'd leave because no one had ever shown you this much patience and understanding. No one had ever given you the choice to wait.
With Jason you learned that you didn't need to break your boundaries to be loved. You learned that– maybe there wasn't anything wrong with you, maybe you weren't stupid for having wishes and for being hurt when they didn't happen the way you envisioned.
He showed you what it truly meant to be loved.
When you guys finally had sex, it was the best experience you'd ever had. He made sure you actually felt ready and wanted this as much as he did, and then he made sure to put you first through it all. It was messy but it was yours, and that made it perfect. After crossing that line, you guys were regularly all over each other, but he never pushed. Never made you feel pressured. Never forced you to break another boundary. He never made you feel disgusted with yourself.
Slowly, it was like he cured something broken within you that no one had ever been able to before, something you couldn't even name but constantly prayed to get rid of.
But this time was different from anything you guys had ever done before. He was on top of you, head nestled in the crook of your neck, panting softly while planting kisses in your most sensitive spots. Your legs were wrapped tightly around his torso, and one hand was softly playing with his hair while the other held onto his back.
The slow drag of him inside you caused your back to arch so you could get impossibly closer to Jason, and every time his tip kissed your cervix, a soft sigh of his name escaped your lips. It felt so good, he felt so good, it was overwhelming.
You didn’t know what got into you, but suddenly a strong tightness formed in your chest like someone was squeezing your heart. This overwhelming feeling of being on a boat that was flooding came over you, and you knew that if you didn’t drink the water, it would sink and you would drown. When you couldn’t, the first tears started falling. You remembered the ecstasy you felt when Jason kissed you for the first time, and how deeply you had wished you could’ve turned back time in that moment so you’d never have to live through what you did in the past. If you had met him all those years ago, when you were still young and sweet, when you hadn't felt tainted all over yet, maybe you would’ve never gotten so broken.
Your hand that had been on his back moved to the hand he had next to your head. He immediately understood you, intertwining your fingers together in another attempt at killing any space between the two of you. This quiet understanding made another tear fall. No one had ever bothered to read you before, but Jason did it like you were his favourite book, and in reality you were. No classic novel would ever compare to the excitement he felt when he analysed every single microexpression and every single gesture of yours. Finding the meaning in all of your actions made him feel complete, and that, once again, was something you had lost hope in finding.
In that moment, time felt like it dragged on. It was as if you could see all your past versions sitting around in your mind patiently waiting for this moment, and God it took years for it to finally happen. You had been waiting to feel loved properly for too long.
As soon as he heard you sniffle, his movements stilled immediately and he lifted his face from its previous resting spot on your neck to look at you.
“Hey–” His free hand cradled your cheek and gently wiped some of your tears while he looked deeply into your eyes. “Baby, what’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”
You shook your head and let out a sound between a laugh and a sob as more tears came falling down, trying your best to focus on the beautiful green eyes you woke up next to every morning. “No. Not at all. Please– don’t stop.”
“Sweetheart…” Jason leaned in to kiss away your tears. “Why are you crying?”
“It’s just– it’s ‘cause I’m in love. I’m– I love you s’much, Jay.” The tears weren’t stopping, because you just couldn’t wrap your head around how much you loved Jason, and how loved he made you feel. You guys weren’t just making love, no he was worshipping you, and after believing you deserved to be treated like shit for years, it was hard for you to come to terms with something so pure as your boyfriend’s love.
“I love you too, sweetheart.” He kissed you tenderly. “It’s okay… Shhh, it’s okay, baby. We can stop if you want.”
“No! Please don’t.”
“Are you sure?” You nodded and pulled him down for another kiss.
“I am. Never stop, please.” He could tell you weren’t just speaking about this moment, you were asking him to never stop loving you, and he didn’t plan on doing that ever.
“I won’t,” Jason returned his slow sensual movements. “I love you.” A kiss on your forehead. “I could never stop loving you.” Another in your temple. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
You hugged him tightly to your chest. For years you felt like all the inconsiderate creeps you seemed to attract had been your fault, you had led yourself to believe that you were tainted and deserved every single heartbreak that came your way. Surely something had to be wrong with you for you to only attract bad people.
But now you knew there wasn’t anything wrong with you, there were just pieces of you that had been broken, and Jason was slowly putting them together. You were two broken people that found solace in one another, slowly healing each other as time went on. And for him, you’d make an effort to get better, just like he did for you.
You’d try, because finally, you knew what it meant to be loved.
taglist: @sallllllllllllsblog tysm for the support♡
pt. 2 to touchstarved!jason now turned clingy!jason cause i need that man religiously
touchstarved!jason todd who is now one of the most affectionate people you know (at least with you).
touchstarved!jason todd who has now turned into clingy bf!jason.
clingy bf!jason todd who can’t stop touching you now that he finally feels comfortable.
clingy bf!jason todd who lets his hands linger on your waist while the two of you stand in the kitchen together.
clingy bf!jason todd who doesn’t take his eyes off you for a second when the two of you are outside. he always has to have you near him.
clingy bf!jason todd who links his pinky with yours while you two sit next to each other, him reading and you watching your show.
clingy bf!jason todd who silently moves your legs into his lap, gently massaging your calves just for his peace of mind.
clingy bf!jason who clings to you when falling asleep, holding you tight as your back lays against his chest.
clingy bf!jason who nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck while hugging you, breathing you in deeply and taking in your scent.
clingy bf!jason who glares at you when you ask him if he just sniffed you, replying with a quiet “no” while his whole face flushes. he absolutely did.
clingy bf!jason who sits on the closed toilet seat while watching you get ready, just staring at you and occasionally asking a question about what you’re doing now.
clingy bf!jason who insists on helping you comb/brush your hair before bed.
clingy bf!jason who gets so overwhelmed sometimes with how much he loves you that he will just randomly hug you and won’t let go for a while.
clingy bf!jason who loves trapping you under him, laying his whole body on yours, essentially crushing you while he ignores you insisting he get off cause he’s “too heavy”. whatever.
clingy bf!jason who slides his cold hands underneath your shirt, pressing them against the warmth of your skin, even though you’ve told him off countless times.
clingy bf!jason who just mumbles a quick “sorry, babe.” in response while kissing your cheeks. he doesn’t feel sorry at all.
