I can't help but think of the batfamily ( bc hnnnngh) when you're pregnant. not doing damian bc I cant. yeah.
not much tags!! it's just pure fluff
this is obviously not very fleshed out. I dont think I will flesh this out because I cant write pregnancy for the life of me. maybe if the demand for this is high enough, I might make a fic of each of them at different stages of pregnancy.
enjoy reading !! reqs are open / send me random stuff to my inbox. much love, xoxo, val
BRUCE
custom orders everything, from nursery furniture to the crib to the toys and books and even the carseat and the potty thing.
he spends hours scrolling through baby names
100% has a plastic doll he practices carrying so he can make sure he's doing it right. Alfred adjusts him here and there
Alfred also teaches him how to change diapers and soothe the baby. bruce finds this very fascinating
one night, you catch bruce trying to learn how to perfectly sing a lullaby so his baby can appreciate good music. it's so cute you almost cry
like literally he's practicing his singing and going "...this doesn't sound right"
asks dick if he's too old to be a father still (dick tells him no)
bruce tries his very best to go to therapy and work through his awkwardness with emotions; not because he thinks it would be a hindrance to anything, but because he thinks the baby deserves to know that showing emotions is not a weakness of any sort
100% buys off paparazzi to stop hounding him and you + sues them
he has a small pendant made for the baby with a built in gps tracked hidden into it.
he likes sleeping with a hand on your belly. during nights he cant sleep, he rubs your belly and whispers random things to the baby
" your mom's so pretty, little one. she's working so hard to bring you to this world, so we have to treat her extra well once you're okay, okay?"
obsessively has the housekeepers in the manor and janitors at the tower disinfect all the surfaces
DICK
he is 100% pacing the nursery, stressed out of his mind
"do you think they'll love blue? or- or pink? wait, is that sexist to say? maybe we should make it purple? is purple gender neutr— don't LAUGH!"
watches 101 videos on baby care
eerily fascinated with the idea of getting the baby to try new kinds of baby food
im not joking, this man buys a whole new mini fridge (or even a fridge, at that point) ans has shelves fitted in so he could stack all the baby food he bought
absolutely has a mini nughtwing suit made in cotton — only the best for his baby
while on that topic, this man custom orders EVERYTHING. he will 100% spoil his baby regardless of gender
he talks to your bump all the time, complaining to the little life inside of you when you're being particularly cranky bc of hormones
"you hear that, chum? your mom hates me now. she doesn't love me anymore. after all I've done for her" (cue the dramatic sniffling while he hugs your hips)
he refuses to leave your side. ever. will cling. might secretly be a barnacle - you just have no proof yet
JASON
he visibly pauses when he sees your bump come in, and he thinks you're the best thing to happen to him ever
he doesn't know the first thing about babies, so he does what he knows what to do best — learn about them
this guy starts paying more attention to children while out on patrol and how parents treat them + spends most of his time reading parenting books and going through parenting forums
by the time you're 5 months into your pregnancy, he's already remodelling the house, baby proofing it by hand
im talking fixing foam pads onto the floor, softening table corners and any sharp corners with a fitted foam cover, buying a booster seat and a tint bathtub and tinkering with them
foot rubs. foot massages. he buys one of those overpriced foot soak things because he knows they helped with your feet swelling the last time you were at the salon
he refuses on a nursery, says the baby should sleep in the same room as them so neither you nor he needs to get up and move too far away.
he changes all the locks to apartment and installs grills on all the windows
TIM
slightly freaks out when your bump shows bc he can't take care of himself, how will he manage with a baby?
when he does calm down though, he's staring at it in slight awe before he's shuffling to his computer to search up soothing strategies for you and nutrition plans
tim makes it a habit to press his ear to your belly and listen to the little miracle move (it kicks him in the face a couple times. he'd rather die than admit he likes it)
in fact, tim eventually even pushes aside case files and paperwork just so he could spend more time with you and the baby
he's very fascinated with this one scientific paper he read where it mentioned that reading to the baby while it was in the womb would help the baby bond with the voices as it could hear. so he makes it a routine to read to you and the baby at night
tim, who usually has trouble sleeping, ends up falling asleep and staying asleep most nights when his head is pressed to your bump
he definitely 100% does that thing where he carefully carries your baby bump for a few moments, just so you could have your relief
he 100% also helps with pumping the milk out, mostly because he knows your body better than you do at this point
he has magic hands, I'm telling you. he's easily finding your sore spots and massaging them.
#O1 - the first sighting — dick grayson ( hook, line & grayson )
tags !! smut, pussydrunk dick, love at first sight, consensual, slight degradation, dirty talk, praise. so much praise. desperate sex. needy sex. hungry grayson. pleaser grayson. i think this is what they refer to as a service top. slightly pathetic dick grayson. voyeurism if you squint. implied aftercare. meet cute (albeit horny). mutual attraction. oral sex. semi-public sex. closet sex. feeling you up. he falls first, and hard.
a/n !! second series, i just wanted an excuse to fuck dick grayson fictionally. that's it. that's the post. ric's my baby and i will die on the hill that he is a very versatile switch and i was very much thinking about marking him up while writing this. richard john grayson, if you see me, RUN. anyway, i hope yall enjoy this!! this will be a two part series; maybe three if the plot thickens. lemme know what you think in the comments + send me asks!! much love, xoxo, val.
dick grayson was never one for love at first sight.
he did not believe in it, and he did not think he would ever believe in it. at least, until now.
he did not know what triggered it, but he felt himself extremely enraptured by how good you looked in that versace black viscose-jersey gown dress, the fabric hugging every curve and that slit revealing just enough skin up to your mid-thigh for his mouth to water.
he wanted a taste of you, and he wanted it soon, or the gods know he will lose his mind.
so it was no surprise when he had asked you to a dance when the orchestra struck up to a waltz, much to bruce's dismay (nothing new there).
"you look gorgeous tonight."
he purred into your ear at a turn, his dimples on full display as he smiled that charming gotham's most eligible bachelor smile, charm dialled to a hundred. mentally, he was hoping and praying you would entertain his advances. god, he wanted you so bad.
"can i have a name to put to that pretty face?"
and when you did give him your name? heavens, he felt like he was in the presence of an angel when you looked up at him after, eyebrow raised like you were telling him 'i see through your shit. i know what you want.'
and he swore he saw a little bit of that hunger that has been brewing in his gut reflect in your eyes when your gaze dropped to his arms. or maybe he was being delusional.
either way, he was definitely getting a piece of you tonight. or at the very least, a kiss.
the waltz comes in smoothly, despite both of you knowing each other for barely 5 minutes. dick grayson, though bless his heart for leading you through it seamlessly, will not shut up. you supposed it was not really a downside, and you had heard rumors about it but, goddamn.
dick grayson never shuts up.
"so, what brings a pretty face like you here?"
he asked, trying to act all nonchalant, murmuring into your ear while your perfume was making his knees slightly weak and his mouth water.
fuck, you smelled so good. was that versace too?
this should be illegal.
"do I need a reason to attend a charity ball?"
your voice was low, teasing.
i mean, it was not like your identity was a secret anyway.
your family was not huge, but they also were not low profile either. they were decent — your father was a pharmaceutical company ceo and your mother a model, both of them with actual moral compasses and a pretty affluent status.
but right now, they were talking to some businessman - and you were content with where you were.
in fact, you would be lying if you said you were not enjoying this, and that dick was not affecting you as well.
the man, to his credit, was sex appeal on legs.
his hands were big, strong from all the acrobatics and whatever else he does. his smile was sharpened to seem both friendly and charismatic, yet predatory enough to make heat curl in your abdomen and your clit tingle.
you were distracted by his dimples, and then his arms — god his huge fucking arms. you wondered what it would be like to bite them, or to grab onto them when you trip or when you drag your hips up and down his cock—
you look away from his face, glancing around almost too quickly, trying to find something else to latch onto, praying dick did not catch that flicker of heat in yours.
but oh, dick - that bastard - he caught it.
he smirked faintly to himself, pressing you closer to his chest by pressing his hand into your lower back slightly rougher, murmuring into your ear.
"like what you see, doll?"
and he could audibly hear you swallow.
now, you are not one to lose your cool so easily.
but richard john grayson was no ordinary man.
you dug your nails lightly into the shoulder of his suit, eliciting a soft hiss and a low chuckle from him that made the heat pooled in your gut flicker to an ember.
"easy, darling. i don't bite."
he murmured roughly before plunging you into a deep dip, twisting your body effortlessly before pulling you back up onto your feet.
he feels his lips pull into a smirk at the breathless look on your face, momentarily speechless at just how good you looked all flushed and flustered.
"and what if I want you to?"
you murmur right into his ear, all honeyed and innocent sounding, and god, dick would have dropped to his knees right there if you had wanted him to.
"how can I refuse you anything when you look so pretty, baby?"
he purrs back, fingers trailing up your spine and counting the vertebrae, pressing his fingers down just a tad bit rougher as he drags his hand back down your spine before resting low, just above the curve of your ass.
he catches bruce's raised eyebrow for a moment (propriety, grayson) before he is swayed by how your grip tightens on his hand, nails digging lightly into the back of his hand.
"eyes on me, grayson."
he swallows dryly, his adam's apple bobbing, and he becomes very much aware of your gaze on it as it moves up and down.
he feels your breath ghosting over his throat and he has to suppress a shiver that emanates from the base of his spine.
by the time the waltz ended - which was simultaneously far too long and far too short, dick could not wait to get his hands and mouth on you.
one moment you are dancing with him. then the next moment, he is guiding you by the small of your back to a secluded corridor and into a closet, pushing you in roughly before he closes the door behind him.
his hands were everywhere - down your sides, on your waist, pressing into your stomach before sliding down to grab your thighs, grabbing them and hooking it around his hip.
he was already half-hard, his cock throbbing lightly the more he felt your body.
"can I kiss you?"
he sounded so pathetic.
you barely nod before his lips are on you, consuming and hot and needy.
he is kissing you like he had never kissed anyone before, and you were almost smug you had that effect until you feel his hand on your nipples, pinching and tugging and kneading so desperately.
you gasp as it sends a jolt to your pussy, and he slides his tongue into your mouth, licking into every crevice he can find, moaning at your taste and smell and how good your tit feels in his hand.
his other hand is moving down to your ass, pulling it apart and kneading it, rutting his clothed cock into you shamelessly. you felt him gasping and whining into your lips at the friction between his boxers and his cock with your body pressed so close to him. god, he could barely think.
you could feel the slick pooling in your panties, dripping down your thighs slightly at just how turned on you were. the cotton stuck obscenely, almost uncomfortably to your heated core. you could feel the heat emanating in waves, your hole pulsing - so needy, so empty.
you had to give it to him, grayson knew how to turn a woman on.
you felt his hand drag down your sternum, still kissing you fervently as he slipped his hand under the slit of your dress, fingers finding your clothed pussy and groaning at the slickness he finds. fuck, you were gushing.
"fuck, doll, so fuckin' wet for me, ain't you?"
he groans, kissing and biting down your neck as he rubs your clothed mound. you were sure he had left some visible marks, but at this point? all you could think about was how good you would look marked up by him.
he bites down onto your shoulder before tugging your panties aside, coating his fingers with your sickness before he rubs his thumb over your clit in tight circles, spelling out his name on the nub periodically.
"oh- fffuck, dick-"
you moan out, hips bucking against his when he presses the letter k on it, hands scrambling to grab something for stability
pleasure zinged through every single nerve ending, making your extremities and spine tingle with how intensely this man rubbed your clit, toes curling as you squeezed your eyes shut from how overwhelming it was.
"mm, yeah. you like that, don'tcha? jus' needed a real man who knows what he's doin' t'touch you, prettygirl..."
you heard dick mouthing off again as he kissed down the hollow of your throat and your chest. using a hand to roughly yank your dress down, he latched onto a nipple greedily as soon as it was exposed, sucking hard as his fingers moved deftly. he smirk faintly at your hissed moan following the heated contact, nibbling on the nub so very lightly.
"god, s'fuckin' wet, sweetheart. I can't wait to taste this pretty cunt."
he pulled back to murmur before diving back in to suck your other nipple, groaning softly as your fingers threaded through his hair, tugging on the strands roughly.
"ohhh fuck, ahn- ahhh-"
you would be quieter. you can be. or maybe that is just wishful thinking because you never knew you could make these kinds of noises. you could barely hold your moans in and dick loved it. he felt your hips buck against his hand, almost riding his fingers desperately, making them tap against your clit just right, and he groaned.
"yeah, I know it feels good baby, I know it does. use me, just like that, use me like a needy little slut."
he murmurs, pinching your nipple roughly, watching your back arch almost unnaturally, resisting the urge to bend you over and pound into you right then and there. but he could be patient. he wanted to worship your body - feel and map every inch of it, inside and out.
you feel yourself nodding dumbly, distantly registering the clink of his belt behind undone before he pulled his hand away from your sopping wet pussy.
"dick!"
you find yourself whining, blinking your eyes open, pupils blown wide and gaze slightly hazy. dick thinks he could cream just from the way you look like that.
"easy, darling. hold on for me."
he say, smirking as he tugs off his pants, leaving his boxers on.
the print in his boxers really leaves nothing to imagination– seemingly thick and long, huge in every sense of the word and you cannot wait to feel it stretch your pussy out and mold your walls to the shape of his cock, or feel the weight of it on your tongue.
you wanted to ask to suck him off, but before you could even blink, dick was already on his knees, hiking your dress up with jerky motions, completely overtaken by the sheer need to see your cunny before his hands fumble with the waistband of your panties, groaning at the sight of the lace and the drenched crotch sticking obscenely to your pussy lips, outlining the shape of them.
he presses a kiss to your clothed mound, his tongue darting out to grab a taste, the tip of his tongue tracing the shape of your sweet, sopping core before he whimpers.
"fuck- sorry- can I tear this? i'll buy you more, i just- needa taste you-"
he inhaled the scent of your pussy, pressing his nose to your clothed cunt; moaning loudly at how sweet and slick and musky you smell.
"please, pretty. wanna taste you so bad-"
he's blabbering mindlessly, before tugging your panties down with so much desperation and urgency that he ended up accidentally ripping it.
you gasped at the sound, swallowing dryly, eyes wide as you drunk in the scene. he looked so fucking good on his knees, his shirt disheveled, untucked and an unnaturally big patch of precum on his boxers, eyes blown wide and hair messed up because of your fingers tugging on them earlier. his lips are swollen and slick with spit, a really sexy red mixed with a little bit of your lipstick smudged on the corner of his lips.
god, you wished you could take a picture.
and that was really all you had time to think before dick latched onto your clit almost clumsily with eagerness, sucking hard.
"o-oh fuck! dick!"
you basically yelped, head thrown back against the wall, one leg coming up to drape over his shoulder and back as the other keeps you upright, planted firmly on the floor.
you were not sure how long your legs would keep up though, because the pleasure zinged waaaaaay too much and way too hard into your nerve endings, making you twitch and buck against his lips and tongue as every press of his tongue flat against your pussy made electricity shoot through your veins.
dick was going to town, tongue flicking against your clit rapidly, eyes closed in pure bliss as he moaned into your cunt, drowning himself in the taste and smell of your cunt.
"tastes so good, baby. s'fuckin good. my pretty lil' slut's soaking wet pussy, weepin' for me."
he muttered before kissing your clit once, twice, and then licking down to your entrance, circling it lightly with the tip of his tongue.
he heard you keen above him, trying to press his tongue further into your hole with a sharp buck of your hips and, with a smug smirk, he obliged.
it felt way too good to be just his tongue, you thought hazily.
the appendage pressed into you, hot and wet and so fucking textured into your gummy walls, rubbing against them and curling just right to both hit that dizzying spot in you and scoop your slick into his mouth. the obscene slurps and shlick noises echoed in the closet, as his hand snaked up your thigh and onto your ass, pulling you closer to his mouth, using the newfound leverage to fuck you on his tongue.
he looks up at you through his lashes, moaning into your sopping wet cunny at how debauchery you look – mascara running down your cheeks, lipstick smudges, eyeliner half gone and your hair sticking up every which way. he feels your walls flutter around him as he slurps, drinking down your slick like it was ambrosia from the gods. he swears up and down that he could cum just from the sight and taste alone.
he pulls back for a moment, spreading your pussy lips and spitting right onto your clit, giving it a full sloppy kiss before the hand on your ass moves, tapping your clit a couple times before he slowly pushed a finger into your entrance, curling it just right
"oh baby, you're so tight. when was the last time you were fucked, hm? no one fuckin' you like you need?"
he says between sloppy, wet kisses to your clit, voice dropping into that patronizing tone as he hears you whine just from the pressure of his fingers molding and exploring your walls. he can barely hold back anymore, his cock throbbing painfully in his boxers, the precum making the fabric stick to his length both obscenely and uncomfortably.
he dips his free hand into his boxers, tugging out his cock while not breaking stride in eating you out at all. the head was flushed an angry red, leaking furiously from the tip, a string of precum connecting the shaft and the insides of his boxers. he carefully stroked himself, moaning into your pussy because his cock was just so fucking sensitive.
jerking off had never felt that good before, ever.
and you could barely take the pleasure anymore either.
"nnh, 'msoclose dick-"
was the last thing dick heard before he was absolutely smothered by your pussy, his fingers slipping out to grab the side of your thigh that was on his shoulder, his nose bumping into your clit as he eats you out with fervor, head moving side to side before he drags the flat of his tongue up, down, up and down and up.
he speeds up his hand on his cock, hand flying over it in a blur, thumb circling his slit as he feels his hips buck needily, jerking, spasming - and he feels so filthy, so fucking pathetic for jerking off to eating your pussy out - to the way your sweet, pretty fucking cunt tasted and smelled and felt and how soft it was, how warm it was - in the closet of a Bruce Wayne charity gala, where anyone could walk by and hearing him absolutely destroying you.
the thought makes him moan whorishly, and he feels your pussy flutter.
"close, baby?"
he murmurs into your pussy, drowned out by the sound of your slick, hot flesh against his mouth as he tongue-fucks you desperately, rolling his tongue around in your walls, plunging it in and out in tandem with the hand that is pumping his cock.
he sees you nod through half lidded eyes before doubling up his efforts, letting his nose bump more purposefully against your clit. he feels it coming, pressing down on your stomach as you writhe, squealing
"tongue so fuckimg good, m'cumming on it ric- mcummin- cumming cummingcumming!"
and then he feels your walls spasm around his tongue, yelling and shaking and your hand in his hair is pressing his pretty face flush to your cunt as you arch your back HARD.
he hears you moan his name, babbling nonsense, all high pitched like a pornstar and he squeezes his cockhead, feeling his own orgasm crash over him out of nowhere, bursting out of him. his tongue keeps moving on your cunt, unrelenting as he helps you ride out your high. he fucks desperately into his fist, groaning into your pussy as thick, long ropes of pearly white cum shoot onto the floor from his cock, painting the concrete in streaks of translucent white.
you eventually mewl and whine from overstimulation, pulling him away from your oversensitive pussy, eyes latching onto the string of saliva and your pussy juices connecting your mound to his lips hazily.
brushing his hair back idly, gently, you swallow as your breathing slowly calms down before your eyes finally focus.
"grayson, did you just cum from eating me out?"
and dick — sweet, sweet dick, who had half a mind to look sheepish, nods shyly, swallowing.
"uh... yeah. jus'... you felt so good, pretty. had to."
his voice is rough - fucked out and hoarse, the bass in his voice sounding like smooth whiskey with how intoxicating it was, the roughness giving it a few hitches that sounded delicious, reminding you of exactly what he had done to sound like that.
he presses one last kiss to your pussy, laughing as you twitch and swat at his head. standing up on shaky legs, dick carefully lowers your leg from over his shoulder, kissing you slowly as he massages your thigh.
this kiss was deep and slow, fully reverent and awed and oh-so-smitten. love at first sight. like a whispered thank you. like he loved you.
when he pulled back, he sighed, fully satisfied and swallowed, licking his bottom lip to pick up any remaining traces of your taste.
"so uh... is it too late to ask you out?"
you laugh, shaking your head as you wrap your arms around him, letting him lean on you for a moment, humming as he buries his head into your neck instinctively, arms wrapping around your waist possessively. you were surprised that your dress had survived that ordeal.
"after you ate me out like you were starving?"
he laughs, smooth and a really rumbly timbre that sounds so hot - and you cannot help the swelling affection in your chest as you smile up at him, admiring the way he looks absolutely ruined and put back together simultaneously.
"hey, a man's gotta eat."
and the next thing you know, you had a dinner date scheduled at 7pm with the golden boy of gotham in two days.
#O2 - the lifted veils — jason todd ( learning how to love you )
tags !! angst. so much angst. but there is comfort! written in a random ass perspective bc i couldn't decide for the life of me. this is something. maybe. i dont know. kind of slow burn? learning to love. desperate. jason todd is such a softie. he's broken but he's a lover boy. long fic. jason todd x reader. mentions sex but jason and you don't have sex. injured jason todd and reader taking care of him and patching him up. bruce being emotionally constipated yet again.
a/n !! hhhh okay let me first apologise for this. I am. so, so sorry for what you're about to read. i got way too dissecting and figuring out how jason would react to this situation and i feel like i ended up somewhat capturing it? but this fic was painful to write because this reflects a lot of my thinking as a person as well, with regards to insecurity and stuff. I enjoyed writing this, but i just- yeah. angst jason hours. I hate angst. part 2 of the fic series though!! lemme know what you thinkkk! as always, asks are open, go ham with it if you want. enjoy reading and leave a comment! xoxo, much love, val.
it was fucking 2 am. well, 2:35 am, to be exact, on a rainy night. or morning, he supposed.
jason could feel the blood soaking the side of his suit, sticky and metallic-smelling and so entirely uncomfortable. he stumbled lightly - and the thought of calling someone to help pinged in his head before he pushed it down.
bruce had said something stupid, again. and while jason knows he did not mean it that way - fuck, it still hit.
it was supposed to be just a reconnaissance mission. 14 people with family, history, backgrounds; all of them either prominent scientists, forensic analysts or geneticists; all of whom had access to various amounts of genetic information and databases - gone like the wind. no bodies, no surveillance footage, not even a single hair to run dna samples with.
so bruce had called him. told him to use his underground connections to source any intel. gave him nothing but a black veil to go off of.
"are ya fucking kidding me?"
jason remembers grumbling.
"not up for it?"
bruce tosses out, pausing his type for a milisecond as he glances over at jason.
"since when do you trust me with recon?"
he watches bruce's eyes flick back to the batcomputer, the bat's shoulders relaxing lightly.
"since you became good at it."
he hated how that comment made his chest go warm and his lips almost twitch into a half-smile. almost.
"that sounded like a compliment, b."
jason said dryly, leaning back against a wall as he watched bruce.
"good to know ya finally figured out i can handle these missions solo."
and so he accepted it. tracked down black mask and asked him for better opportunities. ignored how his skin crawled when sionis called him the 'violent ex-Robin who was more useful'. pretended to nod through the boring briefing on what to do and how to act, and what intel sionis actually needed.
and then, jason finally walked into the lion's den. infiltrated their base and talked to someone named shadowveil with a shitty modulator that made them sound like they were talking through a pipe. it would have been funny, if it were a different situation. good thing he had his reputation and connections in the underworld, oddly enough.
he walked through the eerie hallways lit by white LED lighting, his mask filtering out some of the brightness so he does not go blind, hearing his own footsteps echo. it was odd, the whirs of machinery and alien-like things floating alongside actual people with masks. he did not see any familiar faces - though he was not sure he was expecting to see any, either.
the entity, shadowveil, led him to where the 14 missing people were housed - in human-sized test tube shaped pods with wires connecting into their brains. the entity was saying something, but he could barely register it, because his world latched onto the objective blaring on the nearby console;
jason spat out under his breath, venom lacing in the word alongside an accusation, jaw clenching painfully as he turned to look at shadowveil.
"yes, though perhaps a better term we have given them is the Ascendants. is that not intuitive? a controlled environment, where you are forced to eliminate yourself in order to survive. human evolution accelerated, no? a closed ecosystem where people confront the only variable capable of hindering them: themselves."
it went on, a bored lilt to its tone that made jason's blood boil.
"humans have become stagnant and mistaken suffering to meaning and lessons. trauma is not sacred, it is merely a leash. all this talk of humanity...it is inefficient. humanity does not guarantee survival. we are allowing for a way to ensure the fittest survive."
jason swore one of his teeth chipped at how hard he was clenching his jaw. he swallowed, staring at the pods, feeling a wave of something red-hot surge up in his chest.
"inefficient, huh? what happens when the person is unable to eliminate their clone?"
"simple - the person will cease to exist. the clone will be a weapon connected to the hive mind."
jason wanted to puke. or punch something. maybe both.
he assumed that shadowveil had finally looked over at him, because their tone changed.
"you seem to be conflicted."
jason can feel his mind turning for a response. he wants to smash the thing's head into the console.
"do you fear facing what you could have been, subject Jason Peter Todd?"
his blood runs ice-cold, his spine straightening up as his eyes snap to the entity. he feels his entire body lock up, and his hands twitch to reach for his guns.
jason freezes slightly, eyes widening slightly underneath the mask.
because that is not just a name anymore.
that is a grave. a buried child, one that only wanted to be loved, to be chosen, and instead was discarded.
by humanity, and by bruce.
it was a reminder of who he was inside, and who he so desperatedly never wanted to be.
a child in the robin suit that left the nest and never made it back home.
a bird discarded on the side of the road, now buried six feet under with an elaborate tombstone but no body under it to name.
jason bites the inside of his cheek, his voice coming out rough.
"don't call me that."
"is that not who you are?"
the entity's voice is all surrounding now, wrapping him in an acoustic cocoon and it seems to be all around him and inside his head at the same time.
"second robin, murdered by the Joker. returned by the pit."
"it's not."
jason growled, his modulator curling the words into something more menacing, even as he felt his foundations quiver just slightly.
"how so?"
"because that person is dead."
the entity paused, head tilting slightly, confused. perhaps calculating. jason wanted to dig his nails into something.
"that person is standing before me."
jason looked back at the scientists, swallowing dryly.
"no. i'm here because someone refused to let me stay dead."
the entity pauses, observing jason, its gaze flitting over him. jason feels himself getting restless, wanting to so badly pull his guns out and shoot point blank between its head, but he stops himself. he swallows. feels the air rush in as he inhales, and the same air rush out as he exhales.
"interesting. you attribute your existence to the refusal of another."
jason's expression hardens as he stares down the entity, clenching his jaw.
"do not."
"is that not true? you died. the world had moved on."
"and then you returned."
a pause. the entity tilts its head.
"yet people struggle to accept what you have become."
jason wants to scream. but he knows he cannot. he cannot afford to look weak before this thing. so he does the next best thing.
he pulls out his guns.
the rest is a blur; the entity calls forth guards, mercenaries - aliens, entities, weird fucking being with superhuman strength and all jason remembers is kicking, shoving, punching, shooting and writhing to stay alive. to survive.
he feels like he is back at 15 years old, wanting to stay alive, desperately wanting to prove who he is to bruce - that he could handle himself, that he could survive. he is stronger now - faster, better.
he does not know how long it took, but eventually he has a gun pressed to the entity's head after backing it up against a wall, panting heavily as he stared at the entity when a familiar pair of boots echoed in the marble.
"red hood, stand down."
jason froze, pausing for a few moments.
the entity senses his confusion, because it says
"he has been here the whole time, Jason Peter Todd. batman always has his contingencies."
jason growls, landing a solid punch before bruce is dragging him back, pushing him aside as he handcuffs the entity.
jason is fuming. his hands are shaking and he is clenching his jaw so tight he can feel his jaw lock up and his gums ache. the ride back to the cave is heavy, and jason refuses to look at bruce.
he thought bruce had trusted him. clearly batman did not.
┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈・ ✦ ・┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈
jason stays quiet as bruce walks through the door behind him. he tosses his helmet on the table, and it drops with a way-too-loud thwack.
but his hands shake, and his breathing is uneven. and jason's jaw is clenched so tight - he knows bruce sees it.
"jason. talk to me."
jason huffs out a laugh - angry and hot and annoyed rolled into one.
"about what? how you were following me?"
bruce goes quiet. he knows. of course he knows.
"were you there the whole time?"
"jason-"
"answer the question, bruce. were you there the whole. time?"
he sees bruce swallow.
"yes."
jason lets out a humorless laugh, squeezing his eyes shut for a second.
"wow."
he exhales, nodding like he's turning it over in his head.
"i was making sure you had backup-"
"no, bruce, you were making sure i wasn't screwing it up for you."
jason's voice is rough - a growl almost, but it still shakes slightly.
"that is not true-"
"isn't it? because you never trust me enough to send me on these missions without backup. you never let me train alone. you insist on reports on everything i do-"
"because the pit might have changed something and-"
"i am jason, bruce! i may not be the jason that was once your robin but i am still jason!"
jason's voice echoes in the cave, and it stops bruce in his tracks.
jason is breathing heavily, panting as he grabs his helmet again, jaw clenched and fighting the instinct to punch the wall. he turns toward the door, slipping the helmet on, and he catches the exact moment bruce panics.
"jason, where are you going?"
jason pauses just a moment, glancing back, his shoulders rigid before he walks out, muttering:
"somewhere my ghost won't haunt me."
┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈・ ✦ ・┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈
and that is how he found himself stumbling to your apartment, hand clutching the side of his suit, coughing slightly at the exertion.
he knocks one or twice before almost collapsing into you the moment you open the door.
"jason? what the fuck-?"
you say, arms coming up under his easily, tugging him upright as you guide him to your couch. he merely grunts, head lolling back and chest heaving as he flops down.
"off."
he mutters, and you are barely thinking before you are dropping to your knees, peeling off his layers one by one as he thumbs off his helmet.
he is watching you - drinking in how you are practically glowing under your fluorescent lights, your fingers working his suit and your teeth sinking into plush lip as you frown once you spot the cut, inhaling sharply.
he watches how you grab a first aid kit, patching him up without a word, disinfecting and bandaging like it was second nature.
and he pretends he does not notice when you press a soft kiss to his ribs right above the cut, his breath hitching as you slowly rise back up.
"why didn't you go back to the cave?"
your words wash over him like a bucket of ice water, and all semblance of relaxation evaporates from his gaze.
"i don't need bruce."
he says bluntly, defensively - the words somewhat biting despite how he can barely move from the sting of the cut.
he watches your gaze search his before nodding slowly, and he is actually pretty surprised at how you do not press the matter. you simply gather the remaining first aid stuff and place them into the first aid kit before stashing it away, moving to your fridge.
"you staying for dinner?"
and jason finds himself nodding before he could even process it, standing up stiffly as he leans against the kitchen counter, watching you move around.
you tell him about your day - that there is a new bakery that opened up down the street with really pretty looking croffles, and how you have staarted a new book over the last few days. you tell him that you saw a really cute calico kitten earlier, limping in the alleyway just two streets down during your daily jog, and you brought it over to the vet, who said it was some kind of tendon injury. you tell him about your neighbours having a fight recently and how they were yelling so loud, you could hear it - and then how you could not sleep that night because they were having really good makeup sex.
and jason feels that itch in his sternum again - the one where he wants to touch you so badly that it feels suffocating, every nerve ending screaming to come into contact with you.
he swallows dryly, eyes tracing down the slope of your cheek and your nose, pausing at your lips. his fingers twitch momentarily, and he almost forgets to breathe, too.
"do you trust me?"
it comes out quieter than jason expected it to. much more vulnerable than he preferred it to be.
but nothing about this moment seemed comfortable to him.
he watches you pause, eyebrows furrowing for a moment and his heart sinks and sinks, and he wants to backtrack and apologise-
"of course i do."
and jason feels his heart crawl back up, almost bursting at the seams at how hard it fills back up.
"you know i was resurrected, right? i'm fucked up."
"i know."
he is taken aback, mostly because everyone shies away from that topic, or even acknowledge any of his scars. though, he supposes you are different.
"and you still pick me?"
jason hates how small he sounds. he really does. but he really cannot bring himself to care when you are suddenly dusting your hands off from chopping whatever it is you were chopping, warm hands coming up to cup his cheeks.
"i'll pick you in every lifetime, jason."
"every, single, one."
jason wants to cry. curl up in your arms and never let go. he feels his chest ache and his throat lumping up and he feels the itch in his fingers- and then you are grabbing his wrist and guiding his hands to your waist and-
his minds goes quiet.
he goes quiet.
nothing else exists to him except the warmth of your sides under his palm and your deep eyes looking right into his. he tugs you closer into his chest, and you press closer with a slight laugh, bringing your face closer to his.
"you feel right."
he finds himself whispering.
and when your lips finally meet his?
he has never tasted anything better.
you taste like caramel syrup and coffee, like his hopes and dreams and everything he has ever wanted.
his hand slides up into your hair, angling your head just right as he slots his lips more needily against yours, soft noises of contentment escaping him as he feels a slow warmth spread through his body, from his chest to his head and to his hips, knees and toes. he kisses you like he has been starving for it, like he is breaking a time loop cycle and you are the only real thing.
by the time he pulls back, both of you are panting into each other's lips, laughing softly at how intense that got.
"attagirl."
jason murmurs, pressing another kiss to the crown of your head as he brushes a stray strand back, fingers cupping your jaw easily before he presses another kiss onto the tip of your nose.
"my girl."
he is whispering it now, like a secret kept between you and him and the air that surrounds you two. you inhale his words greedily before pressing your lips to his stubbled cheek.
"my man."
and jason todd thinks this is what being loved feels like.
and maybe, maybe, the robin is learning to build a new home of his own.
I haven't woken up yet, im still so tired and my shoulders hurt so bad, so bear with me . I promise I'll get ro posting mean!Jason todd and the second part of 'learning how to love you' series, and then maybe a bruce wayne fic
i have a grayson fluff fic + angst/comfort oneshot in the works
