boyfriend!Percy Jackson who presses seashells to your ear and whispers “listen, you can hear the ocean in me”

boyfriend!Percy Jackson who tries to catch fireflies at night just to put them in a jar for you

boyfriend!Percy Jackson who plays with your hair absentmindedly

boyfriend!Percy Jackson who leaves his clothes in your cabin on purpose, and then pretends to be mad when you steal them

boyfriend!Percy Jackson who grins like a dork every time you say his full name

boyfriend!Percy Jackson who brings you seashells “because they reminded me of you”

boyfriend!Percy Jackson who falls asleep with his head on your shoulder

boyfriend!Percy Jackson who blushes when you compliment him

boyfriend!Percy Jackson who laughs at your bad jokes just to see you smile

boyfriend!Percy Jackson who would get his nose broken just to beat up some campers who disrespected you (and then grin at you sweetly with blood all over him)

boyfriend!Percy Jackson who puts seashells on you while you’re tanning, thinking it’s adorable, and then gets genuinely confused when you’re mad

boyfriend!Percy Jackson who grins the whole time when you’re yelling at him because he thinks you look hot when you’re frustrated

boyfriend!Percy Jackson who functions solely on the idea of making you flustered

boyfriend!Percy Jackson who grins whenever you blush, thinking it’s the cutest thing ever

boyfriend!Percy Jackson who pulls you into his lap during horror movie nights for “protection”

boyfriend! Percy Jackson who GENUINELY thinks you’re out of his league and stands by it

summary: percy jackson!boarding school au - its late at night and you're trying to sneak back to your dorm room. everything is going to plan, until percy jackson appears and makes a plan of his own, one that involves him being way closer to you than usual. wc: 2k

the school halls were eerily quiet as you tiptoed down the corridor, your heart pounding in your chest.

you weren't supposed to be out after curfew, but as you were reading, you looked out the window momentarily, and the stars had looked too perfect to resist sneaking up to the roof.

you were passing through the main hall now, and were just trying to get to the staircase which led to the girls dorms upstairs. you warily looked around, then you suddenly froze.

you heard footsteps behind you. just your luck— of course you were about to get caught. you were already beginning to think of excuses to tell the teacher before you turned around to look.

you turned your head slowly, pulse thrumming in your chest.

but it wasn't a teacher. in fact, you probably would've preferred it to be, because now you were face to face with none other than percy jackson.

˚. ᵎᵎ 🌹彡⋆｡˚ peter parker ( x reader ) smau .ᐟ

pt 10 : flowers

prev | next

authors note: hey... how y'all doin...! please don't burn me at the stake the bitch is back!! mcr smau is also ongoing (so is clark dw im not abandoning you forever) follow my alt account. can everyone ignore that i reused a photo ive already used in a previous part thank you

tags: @teenytinybands @rinisfruity14 @ravisinghs-wife @xoxoivy13 @lankylinky @nerdgirloftheweek @suckafatdink @orthalicus @estrellarots @one-of-your-girls @yoonieverseworld @spfoah @loveelylani @sirsmiley76 @murdockcastleslut @amterasuu @sal4mandr @fromangel @dylsdaily @ultravioletfemmes @janyiahsucks-blog @miraitstan @frottangel @miraitstan

youruser

♬ autumn in new york - ella fitzgerald

tagged cindysilk

youruser catchin' cabs 🚕 🚕 🚕

load comments...

maryjanewatson i love nyc ╰ youruser i love you 💋💋 cindysilk your love for new york is so inspiring

ꢾ୧ ˖ 𝐏𝐔𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐀𝐖𝐃𝐀𝐌 𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐑 📱ィ

🗯️ ────── texts with BF!MICHAEL TOWNSEND p7

shelf ; the naturals | contents. uh. jokes. ft. sloane. ooc??????? ( vro i did this at 1 am )

gossip after gossip. i tried to make this funny. idk if it's funny. if it's not, pretend it's funny. slide 2 def made me remember millerie,, but like,, an item,,

꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱

fix it up! - j. todd

dcu masterlist | main masterlist | song-based fics

gn!reader x mechanic!jason todd

summary: your car keeps breaking down, and the mechanic that keeps fixing it is slowly falling in love with you.

warnings: none! but lmk if i missed anything!

a/n: ANON you're soooo right hehe...i'm sorry this one took a while to get out!!!! enjoy my love!

UNEDITED!!!

mechanic!jason todd needs you to convince him that you actually want to go out with him. he's fixed your ratty old car more times than he can count. he honestly thinks you should just buy a new one, but you're supposedly sentimental about this one.

mechanic!jason todd who rolled out from underneath a car the first time you saw him, covered from grease. stains along his shirt, smears in the creases of his hands. as soon as he laid eyes on you, he desperately wished he'd been wearing something else.

mechanic!jason todd who's a reformed criminal. he served a couple years in prison for beating a guy who got too handsy with a woman jason saw at the bar. the only person willing to employ him was his old high school friend. so now he works full-time at roy's autobody shop & repairs.

mechanic!jason todd starts giving you discounts, because you just come in so damn often. he's sweaty, he's always covered in grease, but for some reason, you're always able to look him in the eye. whenever you walk through that door, his heart pounds and he starts breaking out in an even bigger sweat than before.

mechanic!jason todd struggles to focus when you decide to hang around one day. you're there all the time, after all. so you decide to watch him fix your car. all of a sudden, he's tripping over everything, and his thick, calloused fingers turn clumsy and fumble everything he touches. he blushes furiously when you giggle and say, "is this why it takes so long to get my car fixed?" that's not true! if only you knew how fast jason worked when he wasn't flustered!.

mechanic!jason todd who is just so big. he's such a gentle giant, however, but speaks harshly in that brooklyn-esque accent of his. all the parts of your car look so tiny in his hands. one day, you jokingly ask to help out. with his own hands trembling, he guides yours steadling, hovering behind you. you giggle and laugh as he moves you around, and jason finds himself smiling too.

mechanic!jason todd who gets humiliated by roy. "hey, are you two gonna go out or...what?" jason turns beet-red. almost as red as the worn down paint of your car. jason tries to deny it, says that would be so unprofessional, but you scribble your number on a scrap piece of paper and he finds it a day later.

mechanic!jason todd who's parking his motorcycle as he sees you walking down the street. he tries to ignore his butterflies. you'd never want to go out with a guy like him...right? ah, he thinks. better to find out. nervously works up the courage to run to you. he's panting, not because he's out of breath, but because he's so damn nervous. you're just so pretty.

"hey," he says. "remember me?" smiling with recognition, you say, "of course i do!" "your uh, your car is almost fixed up." you scoff playfully, and the sound sends chills rolling up his spine. "thank you! i know it's probably a pain in the ass for you to keep—" "no. it's...nothing." he stands there awkwardly. "um, i actually...i just wanted to ask for your...number." you blink. "you want my number?" "it's fine if not. i just thought i'd try and ask. i just thought you were...i dunno, cute and all? not like, average-cute. i think you're...nicer than that." you give him a cheeky grin. "you think i'm beautiful?" his cheeks go beet-red. "i—" "here. gimme your phone." and jason's heart soars to the moon, like he's a little boy all over again.

mechanic!jason todd who finally works up the courage to text you. you changed your contact name to a single red heart. he doesn't know what it means, but it probably insinuates that you like him back, right?

so he finally works up the courage to shoot you a text. hey, it reads.

hii!!, you reply. oh, gosh. what should he say next? ask you on a date? does it happen so...quickly? would you want to take it slow?

how'd you feel knowing he was in prison? and why would you want to hang out with a guy like him? there are many other men out there with much more...noble professions. at least, that's what he thinks. he doesn't know you admire how hard he works. how good he is at his job. he's already got your number. might as well shoot straight. let's go on a date? please?

mechanic!jason todd who keeps talking to you. nonstop. you begin calling each other on your lunch breaks, and soon he's yapping with you on the phone as he's fixing up someone else's car. soon, the two of you have planned out a first date and his calloused hands are picking out roses and chocolates before he drives to pick you up (because obviously, your car is at the shop).

boyfriend!jason todd who learns the quiet rituals of your evenings, the way you like the lamp left on low and the window cracked even in winter. He moves through your space carefully, as if love is something that startles if handled too roughly.

boyfriend!jason todd who listens to thunderstorms from the floor, back against the couch, knees drawn in. He lets the thunder pass before speaking, trusting the silence to hold what he cannot say yet.

boyfriend!jason todd who traces old scars absentmindedly while you read beside him, the room lit gold by late afternoon. His touch is gentle, a promise made without asking for anything in return.

𝑎𝑘𝑎 , embarrassing things they’ve done for you while crushing.

#archive ｡ ｡ batboys x 𝑔𝓃! reader ✿ fluff crack not proofread ❕ might be ooc 𖬺𖬺. sfw

DICK GRAYSON

changes his pfps to whatever you called cute

for example, you called an orange cat cute, his profile picture in every account you have him added on is a picture of an orange cat. they’re all different pictures of orange cats, too

depending on his mood, he might even post something about orange cats 😭😭😭

════════════════════════════════════════════

　✎⠀⠀pairing ⦂ Dick Grayson x reader | pure fluff

╰┈➤ synopsis ⦂ you and your... very oblivious boyfriend going over what really happened that day in conversation.

The morning light filtered through the thin curtains of your Blüdhaven apartment, casting long shadows across the hardwood floor that had seen better days. You were tucked into the corner of the couch, with your legs curled beneath you and your favourite mug warming up your hands.

Steam rose from the chamomile tea in lazy spirals as you watched Dick Grayson move around the narrow kitchen. He was shirtless, and you couldn't help but trace the lines of muscle that flexed across his back as he reached for the cabinet above the stove. Even in domestic settings, he moved like water; fluid, graceful, economical. Every motion had purpose, a lifetime of training evident in the way he shifted his weight, the unconscious precision of someone who had spent their entire life learning to control their body.

There was a fading bruise along his ribs, purple-green and tender-looking, probably from some encounter earlier that week. A thin white scar ran along his shoulder blade, you had traced it with your fingers enough times to have it memorized. The morning light caught the dark hair at the nape of his neck, slightly too long and curling just a bit at the ends. He was in need of a haircut, but you secretly loved it like this.

"You know what I've been thinking about?" you said, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled over the apartment.

Dick glanced over his shoulder, and that smile, god, that smile, bloomed across his face like sunrise. It was the kind of smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes, genuine and warm and completely unguarded. The kind of smile that had probably caused at least three traffic incidents this week alone, if you were being honest.

"What's that?" he asked, turning his attention back to the eggs crackling in the pan.

"If I were a guy, I wonder if I'd be as oblivious as you are."

The spatula froze mid-flip. His shoulders tensed slightly, that combat-ready awareness that never fully left him, before he turned fully to face you, confusion written across his features. "Oblivious? About what?"

You couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up from your chest. "Case in point."

"No, seriously." He abandoned the stove entirely now, moving into the living room with that ravening grace that made you understand exactly why criminals found Nightwing so unsettling. But his expression was pure Dick Grayson; open, concerned, genuinely confused. He leaned against the back of the couch, arms crossed over his bare chest. "What am I oblivious about?"

You set down your mug on the coffee table, and turned to face him properly. "Dick. Do you have any idea what happened at the grocery store yesterday?"

His brow furrowed, and you watched him mentally review the trip. "We... bought groceries?"

"The cashier gave you her number."

He blinked. "What?"

"Written on the receipt. With little hearts drawn around it."

"She—" His confusion deepened, and he actually looked concerned now, like he had somehow failed at basic human interaction. "She was just being friendly."

"Dick." You leaned forward, trying not to smile at how genuinely baffled he looked. "She wrote 'Call me' with her number and drew hearts. Plural. That's not friendly. That's interested."

"Maybe she draws hearts for everyone—"

"She doesn't."

"How do you know?"

"Because I watched her check out the person in front of us, and their receipt did not have hearts. Or a phone number. Or the way she kept touching your arm while she scanned our items." You picked up your tea again, taking a sip while you observed him as he processed the information. "And that's not even mentioning the barista at the coffee shop."

"What about her?"

You had to laugh again. "What about her? Every. Single. Time. And gives you free pastries. And yesterday..."

"I'm listening..."

"... Yesterday, she literally asked if you were single while I was standing right there."

Dick's eyes widened slightly. "She was making conversation—"

"She asked about your relationship status while looking directly at me, then got this disappointed look when you said you had a girlfriend." You gestured with your mug. "Also, you didn't even notice her face fall. You just smiled that smile of yours and said thanks for the coffee."

He moved around the couch now, sitting on the coffee table directly in front of you. This close, you could see the details that made he devastating: the impossible blue of his eyes, somehow bright even in the dim morning light of your apartment; the strong line of his jaw; the way his dark hair fell across his forehead; the small scar above his eyebrow from his Robin days. He was beautiful in a way that seemed almost unfair.

"I don't..." He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture of frustration you had grown to recognize. "I'm not trying to—"

"I know you're not." You reached out, setting your mug aside so you could rest your hand on his knee. The muscle was warm and solid beneath your palm. "That's what makes it funny. And kind of sweet, actually."

"You think it's sweet that I'm apparently walking around like an idiot?" There was a hint of that Grayson charm in his voice now, self-deprecating and warm.

"I think it's sweet that you genuinely don't notice because you're not looking." You reached up, fingers brushing along his jaw. "You're so focused on everything else... the mission, helping people, making sure everyone around you is okay, that you don't see the effect you have on people. Especially women."

He caught your hand, pressing it against his cheek, turning his head slightly to kiss your palm. The gesture was achingly tender. "The effect I have, huh?"

"Devastating," you confirmed, fighting a grin. "Absolutely devastating. Last week, I watched a woman walk into a parking meter because you smiled at her."

"That did not happen."

"It did! Outside the library. You were too busy texting Jason about something, probably case stuff, knowing you, and you smiled at this woman who was walking past. She literally walked straight into a parking meter. I had to make sure she was okay while you just kept walking, completely unaware."

Dick laughed, that wonderful, genuine sound that transformed his entire face. His eyes crinkled, his smile widened, and for a moment he looked younger; less like the vigilante who bore the weight of Blüdhaven's crime on his shoulders and more like the boy who had once soared through the air without fear. "Okay, now I know you're making things up."

"I'm not! Ask Tim. He was with me. We both saw it happen. He said, and I quote, 'How does he do that?' Like you have some kind of superpower beyond the whole super-acrobat thing."

"Tim was there and didn't tell me someone got hurt?"

"She was fine. Embarrassed, but fine. And that's not the point." You poked his chest gently. "The point is that you have this effect on people, and you're completely blind to it."

His expression shifted, becoming more serious. His fingers laced through yours, and he studied your face with that intensity that always made your heart skip. When he decided to focus on something, really focus, it was like being caught in a spotlight. "You know the only person I want to have an effect on, right?"

"Is it the barista?" you teased. "Because you can tell me. I can handle it. I saw her biceps. She could probably bench press me."

"You're ridiculous." But he was smiling as he said it, that soft smile reserved just for you. He moved from the coffee table to squeeze onto the couch beside you, somehow managing to fit into the small space. He pulled you against his chest, and you went willingly, settling into the warmth of him. You could feel his heartbeat, steady and sure, could smell the faint scent of his soap and something uniquely him.

"I'm serious though," he murmured into your hair. "I don't care about... I didn't even notice any of that because I wasn't looking. Haven't been looking since..."

"Since?" you prompted, tilting your head back to see his face.

"Since you." His fingers traced idle patterns on your shoulder, a habit he had when he was thinking. "Kind of hard to notice anyone else when you're around. When all I can think about is whether you're safe, whether you're happy, whether I remembered to pick up that specific brand of tea you like."

Your chest tightened with affection. "That's a pretty good line for someone who's supposedly oblivious."

"I have my moments." He pressed a kiss to your forehead, soft and lingering. "Though apparently not many, according to you."

"Hey, if you were a girl, you'd understand." You shifted to get more comfortable, draping your legs across his lap. His hand immediately came to rest on your knee, thumb tracing small circles. "The way women look at you, it's like watching people discover gravity or something. They just... fall. I've seen it happen in real-time. It's actually kind of fascinating from an observational standpoint."

"And you?" His voice was quieter now, almost vulnerable.

"Oh, I fell too," you admitted, looking up at him. "The difference is, I got back up and decided to do something about it. Took you three months to figure out I was flirting with you."

He winced, and you felt it in the way his body tensed. "In my defense—"

"There is no defense, Grayson. I literally asked you if you wanted to 'come back to my place and see my etchings' and you thought I had actual etchings."

"You were taking an art history class! It was a reasonable assumption!"

"No one has actual etchings! That's like... the oldest line in the book!" You were laughing now, remembering his earnest expression when he had shown up at your door expecting to see artwork. "You showed up with wine and cheese because you thought we were having an art viewing party."

"The wine was a nice touch though, right?"

"The wine was a nice touch," you conceded. "Even if you completely missed the point. Barbara laughed for about ten minutes straight when I told her."

"You told Barbara?" He looked genuinely pained.

"Of course I told Barbara. I needed advice on how to make it more obvious. She suggested I hit you over the head with a brick and spell it out."

"That sounds like Babs." Dick's smile was fond when he mentioned his old friend. "What did you end up doing?"

"I kissed you. After another month of increasingly obvious hints that you somehow missed. Remember? You had just dropped me off after that incident at the docks—"

"When you followed me on patrol even though I specifically told you it was dangerous—"

"When I helped you on patrol because you were outnumbered three to one," you corrected. "And you were bleeding. And after you made sure I was okay, and you were being all concerned and heroic, I just... kissed you. And even then, you looked surprised."

"I thought you were just caught up in the adrenaline."

"Dick. I kissed you for a solid thirty seconds. That's not adrenaline."

"It could have been—" But he was laughing now too, pulling you closer. "Okay, okay. I'm oblivious. You've made your point."

You settled deeper into his embrace, feeling his laughter rumble through his chest. Outside, Blüdhaven was waking up properly now. You could hear sirens in the distance, there were always sirens in Blüdhaven, and the rumble of the early morning train that ran past the warehouse district. Someone was shouting on the street below, and a car alarm was going off three blocks away. Life in Blüdhaven moved forward in all its messy, complicated, often dangerous complexity.

But here, in this moment, in your small apartment with its questionable heating, everything felt perfect.

"You know what?" He said quietly, his voice taking on that thoughtful quality it got when he was being truly honest. "I'm glad I'm oblivious. If I spent time noticing all that other stuff, if I was the kind of guy who saw every woman who looked at him and preened about it, I might've missed this. Might've missed you."

You turned in his arms, shifting so you could see his face properly. "Now you're just trying to be charming."

"Is it working?" Those blue eyes were warm, focused entirely on you with an intensity that made your breath catch.

Instead of answering, you kissed him. His lips were soft and warm, and he made this small sound of contentment as he pulled you closer. His hand came up to cup your face, thumb brushing your cheekbone with a tenderness that never failed to undo you. Dick kissed like he did everything else, with complete focus, like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

When you finally pulled back, both of you slightly breathless, you could smell something burning.

"The eggs are definitely burning now," you murmured against his lips.

"Let them." His voice was rough, and he pulled you back in for another kiss.

You let him, sinking into the warmth of him, the safety of his arms around you. And really, when he finally decided to pay attention, when those impossible blue eyes were focused entirely on you, when that devastating smile was meant for you alone, when all that intensity and focus and care was directed your way; well. You understood exactly why people walked into parking meters.

You just got to keep him.

Eventually, you did have to deal with the smoking pan in the kitchen. Dick handled it with good-natured embarrassment, opening windows to air out the apartment while you started a fresh batch of eggs. He came up behind you as you cooked, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder.

You felt him press a kiss to your neck. You turned in his arms, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair. His smile was brilliant, and he kissed you again, softer this time. Sweet and lingering and full of promise.

Outside, Blüdhaven carried on. The sirens wailed, the city breathed and moved and lived. Soon enough, Dick would need to check in with his contacts, would need to plan for tonight's patrol, would need to shoulder the weight of protecting a city that fought him at every turn.

But for now, in your small apartment with sunlight streaming through the windows and breakfast cooking on the stove, you had this. You had him, oblivious and heroic and kind, completely unaware of his own appeal but completely aware of you.

And at the end of the day, he came home to you. He smiled at you like you hung the stars. He held you like you were precious. He loved you with the same intensity and focus he brought to everything else, once he finally realized what he felt.

The barista's phone number, written on his cup that morning in curling script with yet another heart, sat forgotten on the counter. You watched him pick up the cup without even glancing at it, too focused on asking whether you wanted the last muffin.

Some things were worth the wait. Worth the three months of failed flirting attempts, worth every time you had watched him smile at strangers without realizing the chaos he caused, worth the patience it took for him to finally see what had been right in front of him all along.

Because Dick Grayson, when he finally fell, fell completely.

And he'd fallen for you.

richard john grayson who doesn't know what to do with himself when he gets hit with an aphrodisiac with you. tugging his collar, skin burning, mouth dry and needing a tall drink of water (you).

jason peter todd, who knows you could take him apart with one kiss. you're the pretty girl on his lap every friday turning his brain into cotton and breathing air into his lungs.

clark jonathan kent, who thinks doing the dishes and the laundry are two things that are bare minimum in today's romantic economy. it should be bare minimum, but it gets him bare instead.

drop an ask/comment/reblog if yall want fics of these, toodles !

ᡣ𐭩 fratboy!dick grayson is surprisingly good at aftercare ⸝⸝ .ᐟ

Your bodies are both damp with sweat as you come down from your highs. A panting Dick Grayson is laid on top of you with his annoyingly toned arms wrapped around your waist, smiling into your neck while peppering lazy kisses all over the skin like he didn't just fuck you into oblivion for over an hour.

It’s… weird.

When the vodka decided for you that you'd let yourself be taken upstairs to fuck the president of a frat, you expected him to pull out and roll over. If he was extra nice, he'd get you some water before you left. That was supposed to be the extent of it.

He's been cuddling you like this for five minutes now.

"You okay?" he asks quietly, his voice almost tender as he presses one final kiss to your neck before looking up at you. "You did enjoy yourself, right?"

You'd laugh at the question if his weight wasn't almost crushing your lungs. He just had you doing an orgasm marathon and now he's acting like a teenage boy who's scared he didn't find the clit.

"No, it was great. 'm just... recovering." You eventually manage to say, giving him a small smile. He seems visibly relieved.

"Cool, good," he whispers with a kiss to your nose, finally rolling off you to lay next to you. His arms stay wrapped lazily around your torso. "Did you, uh, wanna get cleaned up?"

You hope he doesn't see the visible surprise on your face. "I can go clean myself up. Bathroom?"

He points to a door to the side of his room. Of course he has an ensuite. He slides out of the bed and grabs some sweatpants along with a t-shirt from his dresser, a slightly faded Metropolis U logo adorning the front. "You can change into this, if you want. Figured it'd be comfier." He whispers, handing it to you with a kiss on the cheek.

You smile awkwardly, muttering a small thank you before heading to the ensuite. You like how sweet he's being. The whole thing just feels unexpected.

He's dressed in some sweats by the time you walk back into the bedroom, a sweet smile already on his tired face when he sees you. He gestures for you to come back in bed, lifting the blankets up.

"You want anything to eat? Drink?" he mutters as you settle back into his hold, pressing a kiss on your temple.

"No, no. I don't wanna overstay my welcome."

"Well you're welcome all the time. Always welcome. If you want to be," he immediately says, almost nervously.

Dick Grayson, president of Delta Phi Rho, the guy who's weirdly a genius in your forensic psych class, is nervous to ask you to stay the night after fucking you.

"I think I'd maybe like that, yeah," you whisper back with a small chuckle, looking up at him from your place on his chest.

He grins, subconsciously holding you tighter, practically cradling you. "Me too," he murmurs, now nuzzling your shoulder, arms snaking under your shirt to gently rub your bare back. "Wanna see you again."

"Mhm?" you hum, your body growing more exhausted by the second. He nods into your shoulder, sleep slowly taking over his body as well.

content: pure fluff, smallville!clark, you failing to stay mad at him

you’re trying so, so hard to stay mad at him.

like, genuinely — you’re standing there with your arms crossed, pulling in your best annoyed breath, replaying in your head all the reasons you marched over to him in the first place. and clark… he’s just sitting there on that stupid couch, jacket half-zipped, hair a mess from the wind, giving you that look.

that look.

head slightly tilted, lashes down then up, eyes soft like you just told him the saddest story on earth. lips parted like he’s about to say something, but… doesn’t. he just watches you. and you swear he knows exactly what he’s doing.

“don’t,” you warn, pointing a finger at him.

he blinks once. twice. then tilts his head the tiniest bit more. those ridiculous puppy eyes widen, like you just kicked his puppy, and god, you can feel your resolve crumbling in real time.

“clark,” you repeat, but your voice is already softer, traitorous.

“i didn’t even say anything,” he says, all gentle and confused and impossibly sweet, like he’s actually innocent in all this.

“you don’t have to say anything,” you sigh, dropping onto the seat beside him. “you just… look at me like that.”

his brows go up. he scoots closer — because of course he does — thigh brushing yours like he knows you won’t move away. “like what?” he murmurs, all shy and earnest at the same time.

and when you don’t answer, he leans in a little, trying to catch your eyes. “hey,” he says softly, “i didn’t mean to upset you.”

ugh. there it is. the soft voice. the warm concern. the sincerity that should be illegal.

you try — you really try — to hold onto the frustration, but then he nudges his shoulder against yours. a tiny gesture. sweet. apologetic. familiar.

your anger dissolves like sugar in tea.

“you’re impossible,” you whisper.

clark’s lips tug into a small, relieved smile. “but you’re not mad anymore?”

you roll your eyes, pretending to hold onto a sliver of annoyance. “no. because you have a face that should be a crime.”

he laughs — soft, happy — and gently bumps his forehead against yours. “i’ll try not to use it against you.”

“liar,” you say, but you’re already leaning into him, letting his warmth pull you in.

and he just looks at you again. that look. devastating. adoring. the one that ruins any chance you ever have of staying mad at him for longer than five seconds.

you sigh dramatically. “fine. you win.”

short | fluff | soft smut | masterlist

jason todd is the kind of man to keep you safe and continually mentally stimulated, feeding your mind to nourish your soul with genuine care and compassion. he challenges you, offering real opinions that don’t border toxic masculinity. jason listens to you even when you have nothing to say.

he literally sweeps you off of your feet because that’s how much of a gentleman he is. he learns to appreciate the quietness with you, falling in love with existence beyond reason and acceptance that didn’t have to be earned. jason wants to be known and he doesn’t make that distinction any less clear, he only struggles with admitting what he needs. he is kind, he is soft spoken and insatiably intelligent.