touchstarved!jason todd who can't keep his hands off you, ever
tags !! fluff. lots of fluff. mildly suggestive towards the end. soft jason todd. domestic. established relationship. female reader (sorry). just soft. i love soft jaybin. not proofread at all. this man has acts of service and physical touch as his love language, you CANNOT convince me otherwise. no angst.
a/n !! this one's part of an ask, or technically just 1/2 of an ask by anon c: there's also a 5+1 fic version of this with a lot more angst that i will be posting, where jaybin is reminiscing, though i'd say bear with me because i havent written long fics or multiseries stuff in a long while. much love, xoxo, val
touchstarved!jason who likes having his hands around your waist, just holding on
touchstarved!jason who liked rubbing your stretch marks — he finds them nice.
"they're proof of you growing. I like them."
touchstarved!jason who would never let anyone else touch his hair except you.
touchstarved!jason who closes his eyes whenever you pat his head, almost like a cat
touchstarved!jason who lets you dye his hair, although he would complain the whole time
touchstarved!jason who would sigh whenever you traced his scars.
touchstarved!jason who loves the way you smell, so he always nudges his nose into the crook of your neck.
touchstarved!jason who secretly buys one of those perfume scent necklaces, spraying your perfume into one of the felt straps and wearing it under his shirt or his suit
touchstarved!jason who takes you on long bike rides just so he could enjoy feeling your hands wander. he loves turning sharply just to feel you squeeze him.
touchstarved!jason who prefers you grabbing onto his arm or bicep rather than handholding. he likes how much closer your body is to him, though he knows handholding is more practical.
touchstarved!jason who loves sharing a drink with you — classic double straw in one cup kind of thing. he also loves lady and tramping everything, and always takes a bite from where you took a bite or drinks from where you placed your lips.
touchstarved!jason who makes every single one of your belongings kiss. his cologne bottles kiss your perfume bottles. his toothbrush kisses your toothbrush. his mug kisses your mug - it's sickeningly adorable.
touchstarved!jason who, instead of one long kiss, loves to press multiple broken kissed to your lips. he loves feeling your breathing stutter against his face, and your soft gasps
touchstarved!jason who would stay up for hours into the night, tracking nonsensical shapes onto any patch of your skin he could find, mapping dips, valleys, curves and edges.
touchstarved!jason who is glad for leaky faucets and broken door locks. he loves any excuse to show off for you; shrugging his shirt off as he fixes whatever is broken because he knows you like how his muscles look. he works out in front of you and makes a show of stretching or getting out of his suit in front of you just so he could see and feel your gaze on his body - it is intoxicating.
touchstarved!jason who will find any reason to stare at you undressing or slip into the showers with you. he likes how good your bare skin feels against him - it's smooth and soft. or maybe he just loves touching you. either way, the man loves his skin on skin
touchstarved!jason who loves to take his time soaping up your body, paying attention to every dip and curve, pressing slow kisses to your lips as he washes you. and if the kisses get a little hungrier and he presses you against the shower's cold tile walls? well...let's hope the neighbours don't hear it and the water splashing on the tiles can cover up the moans.
touchstarved!jason who flops onto your lap or on top of you after patrol, reporting back everything that happened like it was his cardinal duty, smiling into your chest at the dumbest things he saw people do today.
touchstarved!jason who stops making specific jokes or using specific words in general because he knows you don't like them, and also because everytime he stops himself, you give him a kiss on the cheek
touchstarved!jason who pretends to be asleep for longer in the mornings so he could feel you press your lips all over his face and his shoulders lovingly, hiding his smile in the pillow.
touchstarved!jason who learned how to do hair from youtube tutorials so he would have more of a reason to touch you, doing your hair perfectly. it would come out great, too.
touchstarved!jason who looks around and makes sure no one is looking before kissing you whenever you're out for date night because he gets self-conscious kissing in public.
touchstarved!jason who loves making out in the back of a cinema showing room, smirking at how desperate you can get when your hands are dragging up and down his torso, pawing at his shirt.
touchstarved!jason who ends up having your lipstick all over his face because he loves kissing you no matter what.
touchstarved!jason who loves having his hands on your thighs. he just loves holding them, can you blame him?
touchstarved!jason who never asks to cuddle or tells you that he misses you, he just sits reaaaaally close to you on the couch, thigh to thigh, arm to arm and pretends he doesnt notice. he'll yawn and stretch, draping an arm on the couch that slowly turns into an arm around your shoulder. and then turns into an arm around your waist. and suddenly you're lying on his chest while a movie drones on in the background and he's playing with your hair.
touchstarved!jason who will surreptiously stretch within range for kisses or cuddling whenever he can.
i love touchstarved!jason todd. ideal boyfriend core.
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Thinking about applying sunscreen on Jason Todd's scars.
The first time you did it, it was almost an unconscious action. Simply, after applying sunscreen all over his back, you moved over to his scars, carefully tracing them with your featherlight touch.
The contact made his breath hitcht, which made you immediately stop, worried you had crossed a boundary.
"I'm sorry, Jay," you mumbled, quickly moving your hands away from his body.
You knew how he felt about them, especially the one on his chest, so the feeling of his muscles tensing underneath your fingers made you internally cringe, almost as if you had managed to reopen his old battle scars with just your touch.
A moment went by, during which you nervously held your breath, until Jason wrapped his hand around your wrist, tentatively placing your fingers back where they had been just a few seconds ago.
"It's nothing," he whispered, his voice coarse, trying to downplay his own feeling. "I wasn't expecting that, that's all..."
His words made something inside you break. You know how he feels about himself — you're painfully aware of that. He often confronted you about how he sometimes feels like a monster, and how he doesn't deserve you. Every time you would reasure him, telling him how much you love him and that you're not going anywhere. Still, his wounds run deeper than the surface of his body, and the faded scars on his skin serve as a reminder of that.
A soft smile broke on your face, and this time, instead of retreating, you leaned into his body. After squeezing some more sunscreen on the palm of your hand, you began tracing each scar, casually leaving behind some soft kisses as well.
"I love taking care of you, Jay. Every part of you. And that includes your scars."
After that confession, this became an habit for the two of you. Every time you go to the beach, or simply to the pool back at the Manor, you fall back into this rehearsed routine.
Jason makes sure to apply sunscreen all over your body — more often than not using it as an opportunity to get handsy — and then, after, doing the same, you start applying it on all of his scars, talking about how sensitive the skin is in those areas and how he has to be more careful.
The first few times, Jason had a hard time getting used to it. But by now, he secretly longs for these moments, loving the intimacy of the exchange.
A/N: I crave casual intimacy with this man specifically.
Summary : You're Red Hood's biggest fan and you might have a huge crush on him. Hopeless and desperate to meet him, you walk into crime alley late at night hoping something will happen so he'll come in and save you. What do you do when he's finally in front of you?
Warnings : idiotic reader really. Shy reader. She is not a pick me, just very nervous. Avoidant me reader
A/N : YA'LL I HAVE 3 WEEKS OFF EXPECT FICS AGAINNNNNN
♡
Was this a good idea? No
Was this the right place to do something this idiotic? Also, no.
Were you still going to do it?
100%.
The sky had long turned black, the streets illuminated only by the dim, flickering lamppost. You'd think the streets were empty at this time, but it never is in Gotham. Especially not around Crime Alley.
You kept your sharpest key between your fingers and radared your surroundings as you made your way through the streets.
A few thug lookalikes stood at the entrance of a 24/7 corner shop. Another man was scavenging in a restaurant's waste bin for food.
Your biggest concern right now were the rowdy drunks stumbling your way. You lowered your gaze to the concrete of the side walk and hastend your pace while you start to really regret your plan. They came closer and closer and just as you've almost passed them and you think you're safe- one of them blocks your path.
Of course, it has to be the tallest guy.
But he is also very skinny, pushing past him should not be a problem if it the situation escalates.
"Woah, wait a second." The guy says putting both of his hands up with palms facing you. "Where are you going this late?"
"None of your business." You reply sharply as you step to the side to pass him.
"No, wait!" He says, as he steps closer- not too close. You do however notice how he does not block your path again. You take a quick glance behind you, his friends were standing to the side just observing the situation.
"You really shouldn't be out here all alone..." The guy trailed off and his eyes widened as if he came to a realization. "That sounds very wrong, I didn't mean it like that. It's just- this place really isn't safe to be out all alone. I wasn't going to do...anything. I'm not a creep, I'm just drunk. Really drunk. But concerned drunk...ya know?"
You blinked owlishly at him after he finished rambling. The poor guy could only blink back. Clearly, this guy is just a regular guy on his way to...wherever with his friends after a night out drinking.
Not a thug.
Not an addict.
Not a mugger.
But he could be an asset to your plan.
You took a step closer and he took a step back.
"Could you help me with something?"
"Uhmm, with...what?" His voice was filled with hesitation as he glanced at his friends.
"I really like someone and I want go get his attention but it's kinda hard to" You said.
"Well...have ya tried talking to him?" He said.
"It's...more complicated than that." You said sheepishly. "The only way I know that I'll get his attention is to pretend I'm in danger..."
"In danger...?" A friend of his finally stepped forward. "Jeez, what kinda guy is your type, girl?"
"Red hood."
"Red hood?!"
"Red hood." You repeated.
The whole group suddenly looked very sober while they stared at you as if you've grown two heads.
"Putting the fact that you're attracted to some crazy guy in a mask aside." Another one started. "What exactly would you need our help for?"
"Red Hood is a vigilante." You said. "He comes where there is danger to save the day."
"So?"
"So, I need you to pretend you're muggers so he'll sweep in to 'save' me." You said air quoting the word.
"Are you insane?" They looked genuinely concerned. "Like, actually insane?"
"You put yourself in danger coming here all alone this late just to get the attention of Red Hood. What were you going to do if a real mugger came up to you? Or if you got attacked by some thug? Or if we turned out not be so friendly?" The first guy started lecturing. "And you want us to pretend to be muggers to attract Red? If it was Nightwing or even Batman, I might've agreed but Red Hood?!"
"We will not be walking away unharmed from Red Hood."
Their eyes were actually about to pop out of their sockets. The tables have turned and they're the ones looking scared of you now.
"So...you won't help a girl out..?" You hesitantly tried.
"They shouldn't."
Your heads snapped to the dark side alley where the voice came from. You first heard the sound of heavy footsteps before the glint of red metal. Then, he stepped out of the shadows in all his glory.
Red Hood.
"It's an idiotic idea." His modulated voice said, he then turned to the friend group. "Leave."
They scrambled away, one tripping over the other. At least, you gave them a story to tell their friends and family. Even though it was not your original plan, Red still showed up.
As soon as they disappeared around the corner, he turned his towards you.
"What the hell were you thinking?" He took a step forwards.
You opened your mouth to say something but you had not planned what to do when he actually showed up- so you shut it again.
Heat crept up from your chest to your neck and all the way up to your cheeks and ears. Your crush was standing right in front of you, talking to you and all you could do was blush.
"Hmm?" He tilted his head to the side.
Your brain circuited at the action. Your cheeks felt on fire now. He was right in front of you and you completely closed up and lost all your confidence.
You just shrugged your shoulders.
"You're so quiet now." He took a step even closer. "You were yapping so much just now about...what was it?"
"'I really like him and want his attention.'" He mocked you. "Well you have all of it now."
You looked at him from under you lashes too shy to say anything now. You were actually debating wheter to just bolt and leave him behind but who knows when you'll get another chance like this?
He lowered himself to your height, so you were looking straight at him, you could not hide away from him now.
"Go home." He turned around and started walking back into the dark alley he came out of.
"I..I app-appreciate w-what you d-do..." you manage to stutter out.
He paused for a moment, glanced back at you, then walked into the darkness.
you noticed that you couldn't move. you blinked slowly, staring at the ceiling as your sleepy brain pieced together why.
an arm was wrapped securely around your waist.
another was tucked beneath your pillow.
one of jason's legs had somehow ended up tangled with yours.
"…jason."
nothing.
you tilted your head just enough to glance over your shoulder.
his face was half-buried against the back of your neck, dark hair sticking up in every direction. his breathing was slow and even, though you were almost positive he wasn't actually asleep anymore.
you smiled to yourself.
"jason."
a low hum vibrated against your shoulder.
"so you are awake."
"no."
"you literally answered me."
"didn't."
you laughed quietly.
"i need to get up."
"no, you don't."
"i do."
"you've got nowhere to be."
"i have to use the bathroom."
"…"
his grip tightened just a little.
"jason."
"five more minutes."
"you said that twenty minutes ago."
"i don't remember saying that."
"you were awake?"
"no."
you couldn't help laughing again.
"you are impossible."
"so i've been told."
finally, he cracked one eye open, meeting your amused expression.
his lips twitched. "there she is."
"good morning."
"mornin'."
his voice was rough from sleep, making it sound even deeper than usual.
he studied your face for a second before reaching up and brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear.
"what?"
"nothin'."
"you've been staring."
"i know."
"…why?"
"'cause you're pretty."
the words came so casually that your brain stopped working for a moment.
"…you can't just say things like that before coffee."
jason smirked.
"sure i can."
"you fight crime."
"i multitask."
you nudged him lightly with your shoulder.
"you are ridiculous."
"so are you."
you tried sitting up again.
his arms immediately pulled you back against him.
"…seriously?"
"i'm comfortable."
"i'm trapped."
"exactly."
"you've become a human weighted blanket."
"i'm hearing zero complaints."
"there are several complaints."
"liar."
you sighed dramatically, though the smile on your face betrayed you.
"…fine."
jason buried his face into your shoulder again with a satisfied hum.
"there it is."
"what?"
"acceptance."
"i accepted my fate."
"same thing."
silence settled over the room again.
it wasn't awkward.
just… peaceful.
outside, rain tapped gently against the apartment windows.
jason lazily traced circles against your side through one of his oversized hoodies you'd stolen weeks ago.
"you know," he muttered, "i was looking for this hoodie."
"no, you weren't."
"i absolutely was."
"you watched me steal it."
"i thought you'd give it back."
you looked over your shoulder.
"you've known me for how long?"
"…fair."
"i've claimed it."
"my hoodie."
"our hoodie."
he groaned dramatically.
"you've become a wayne."
"i'll start calling it 'our emotional support hoodie.'"
"i regret teaching you sarcasm."
"you practically invented it."
he laughed quietly, that alone made your heart melt. after another comfortable minute, he spoke again.
"…thanks."
you frowned.
"for what?"
"for staying."
the joking tone had disappeared.
his gaze was fixed somewhere on the blankets instead.
"you know… most mornings after patrol, i wake up expecting the apartment to be empty."
you turned around carefully until you were facing him.
his expression was softer than usual.
guarded, but honest.
you reached up and rested your hand against his cheek.
"i'm not going anywhere."
his eyes searched yours for a long moment.
"…promise?"
"i promise."
something in his shoulders finally relaxed.
he leaned into your touch almost instinctively.
then, with a tiny, almost embarrassed smile, he rested his forehead against yours.
"…good."
"you worry too much."
"i know."
"you know i like waking up with you..."
"i was hoping."
"i'm telling you."
another small smile.
"the apartment's a lot quieter when you're not here."
"so i'm loud?"
"you sing while making pancakes."
"i hum."
"you perform concerts."
"they're private concerts."
"they're not private if i can hear them from the bedroom."
you gasped dramatically.
"i've been exposed."
jason chuckled.
"i kinda like it."
"you do?"
"mhm."
"you'll never admit that in front of the others."
"absolutely not."
"good."
"dick would never let me live it down."
you both laughed.
the room felt warmer somehow.
jason reached over and pulled the blanket higher around both of you.
"one more minute?" he asked quietly.
you smiled.
"one more minute."
he nodded once, satisfied.
"…then coffee."
"and breakfast."
for just a little while longer, neither of you moved. the rain continued to patter softly against the windows, and wrapped up in blankets and each other, the rest of the world could wait.
you guys should totally give me more sfw ideas for this series 👀
also i js started posting on this acc too @cityafterdark so go check that out!!
. is this considered psycho analyzing?? Yes it is (psycho analyzing myself atp)
. vi who has an iron grip
. she deadass has a mean ass handshake (one time she met one of vander's friends, she shook his hand and he was legit confuzled "very strong grip you have there" while side eyeing vander
. she would adore ethel cain (i adore ethel cain & she's literally me so....)
. she has the most random gym playlist fucking ever, it would have metal music while also having ethel cain AND weird cringe ass phonk music
. she has used superglue for her arm wraps... yes this was deeply regretted later
. she's science smart & good at math but she fucking hates math
. her favorite flowers are lilies and daffodils
. i absolutely think she has more piercings than her nose & 2 helixes (she has an eyebrow piercing, 1st lobe on both ears, tongue piercing and snake bites) (i love you 2xko vi)
. she's also a silver girl idgaf & wears multiple rings but they aren't chunky so they don't annoy her
. chronic mint gum chewer (goes through like almost 8 pieces a day)
. hates loud sounds & music unless she's the one playing the loud ass music
. favourite time is christmas cause of family but it's actually halloween
. insane staring problem, she will look through your soul (if she likes you it gets worse)
. she's also double jointed and has broken multiple fingers on multiple occasions doing the dumbest shit you can imagine
. she wakes up at 3am and makes garlic bread aka her favorite snack ever. (this happens like 4 times a week btw)
. her insane ass pain tolerance is actually something she created by enduring way too much shit it wasn't something she had naturally
. has insane period cramps that actually immobilize her
. hates being hot in any way she will literally kill everyone so she sleeps in a cold ass room every night
. she's also a blanket hogger & wears socks to bed
. she sometimes journals actually, she loves writing and getting her thoughts out somewhere
. has accidentaly set her hair on fire once
. can devour a big dark chocolate bar (she LOVES dark chocolate)
. one time jinx\pow suggested that everyone gather around and make bracelets together and vi ended up with the most bracelets cause everyone made her one (they adore their big sis guys omg)
. she definitely cried when that happened
. she wears a different bracelet every day of the week now
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vi meets your parents for the first time feat. powder╱ sfw: modern au, established relationship, reader has a young sister, just fluff
a/n: dedicated to ky @asapcity and based on her request
Vi had been sitting frozen in her car a few blocks away from your house for about ten minutes, staring blankly ahead as she tried to fight off the nerves eating her alive.
Fortunately, she didn't have to face this alone since Powder was right there with her. Though, to be fair, her sister was acting more like a little devil on her shoulder than any actual emotional support.
She wasn't the type of person who scared easily, but saying she wasn't terrified of making a bad impression on your parents would be a massive lie.
“Please don't tell me you're thinking this is a bad idea,” Powder’s voice broke the silence, filling the car for the first time in ten minutes.
The pink-haired girl didn't say a word, but the look she gave her sister was enough to make the younger girl roll her eyes at the silent confession.
“Relax, sis,” Powder said, giving her a gentle shove on the shoulder. “What’s the worst that could happen?”
“Well...” Vi was completely ready to list every single worst-case scenario, but Powder's constant rambling cut her right off.
“We're already here, you bought her some beautiful flowers, and if we sit here any longer, we're going to be late. Now that would definitely leave a bad impression.”
She was glad to have Powder around, and even more glad that you had agreed to let her tag along. In fact, inviting Powder had been your idea in the first place, arguing that she might get along great with your sister.
On top of that, it comforted her to remember how confidently you had promised that your parents would absolutely love her.
“Okay, you're right,” she sighed. “Let's get out of here.”
She unbuckled her seatbelt and stepped out of the car, though not before quickly fixing her hair in the rearview mirror.
Her hand trembled slightly as her fingers pressed the doorbell. She shot one last desperate look toward her sister for help, but Powder just gave her an encouraging thumbs-up.
After a few seconds of waiting, the door swung open to reveal a girl younger than you, who looked to be around Powder's age.
“Hi, I'm...”
“Vi, I know. You're pretty famous around here,” she interrupted.
Your sister called out, shouting your name to announce that your girlfriend had finally arrived. A second later, hurried footsteps echoed from the second floor, and you came running down stairs, throwing yourself straight into Vi’s arms.
She wrapped her arms around your lower back, accidentally crushing the flowers a bit, as you pulled her close by her neck to give her a kiss.
“You look beautiful,” she whispered the second you pulled apart.
And she wasn't lying, you looked absolutely stunning. It wasn't just because you had dressed up for the special occasion; to Vi, you always looked perfect.
Even after all the time you had been together, you couldn't help but blush, feeling just like you did back when your hands had brushed against each other by accident for the very first time.
“Thanks. You look great too,” you replied.
Your younger sisters exchanged looks and, almost by instinct, began making childish, disgusted faces at the two of you.
“Get a room!” Powder called out.
“Grow up!” Vi snapped back, which only made you laugh.
You apologized to the younger girls for not introducing them sooner, so you quickly did the honors. They greeted each other in the most awkward way possible, looking exactly like the teenagers forced to socialize that they were.
It wasn't long before your parents joined everyone, warmly greeting the sisters and saying how happy they were to finally meet them.
Everyone headed into the kitchen, sitting down to enjoy Vi's favorite dish, which your parents had made absolutely sure to cook after asking you at least three times what she liked.
The two of you sat right next to each other, a perfect spot that allowed you to squeeze Vi's hand whenever she started looking too nervous under your parents' questioning. It was also the perfect angle for Vi to kick Powder under the table whenever she said something totally out of line in front of her in-laws.
“So, Vi...” your mother began, “I heard you're in a band, is that right?”
Vi nearly choked on her bite of food.
“Yes, that's right. I play guitar,” she answered as politely as possible.
Your parents showed genuine interest in both Vi and Powder, asking questions about their hobbies, their family, and their plans for the future—even though you had already filled them in on everything beforehand.
Amid the small talk and laughter, the conversation eventually drifted to music. That was the exact moment your sister and Powder discovered they had almost identical tastes. Their eyes completely lit up when they mentioned an indie artist that apparently only the two of them had ever heard of.
Once everyone finished eating, Vi insisted on helping to clear the table and wash the dishes, but your parents were even more stubborn, firmly insisting that she didn't need to lift a finger.
“I can't believe you were actually that nervous about this,” you said, finally having some quiet time alone together in your bedroom.
She was lying back on your bed with her arms crossed behind her head, while you searched for the perfect spot to place the vase with the flowers she had brought you. In the background, you could hear the muffled music drifting from your sister's room, where she and Powder were hanging out.
“I don't know, I just really didn't want your parents to hate me and forbid you from ever seeing me again.”
“A forbidden romance... sounds kind of exciting,” you teased.
Vi laughed, and before she could reply, you playfully flopped onto the bed, knocking the wind out of her as you rested your weight against her chest. You planted a soft kiss on her cheek while she playfully pretended to push you away—though you both knew that was the last thing she actually wanted.
“The worst part is over,” you reassured her, getting comfortable against her chest. “My parents absolutely adore you, and our sisters actually seem to be getting along.”
Vi pulled you even closer, as if that were humanly possible, while her fingers traced gentle circles on your shoulder.
“You're right, the worst is over,” she whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.
A little fanfic idea, if you don't mind writing about. Might be a bit ooc since I don't know much about the lore or characters. Only from fics I know😅.
Basically Damian goes to see Jason at his apartment for something. He goes there and rings the bell but nobody opens so he decided to break in instead (night be ooc idk). But instead of Jason, he finds the reader (Jason's gf) sleeping on his bed. Damian assumes a homeless person broke in and the story goes from there. You can change it up however you like🙌🏻. Thank you!
Note: Omg so sorry I overlooked this in my inbox so long!!! This idea is so funny and this may be short but I had to do it/ don't take this too seriously, I took a more comedic approach
Not So Secret Anymore
"Todd!" Damian called for the twelfth time, pounding on the apartment door, growing more frustrated by the minute. Currently, he was tracking down a lead on a case and found connections to Red Hood's territory. Jason could give some valuable information if he would just open the stupid door! The lights were on inside, so he was clearly avoiding him for some reason. Rude.
"If you don't answer soon, I'll let myself in!" Damian waited a few more moments before giving a disapproving shake of his head and taking the stairs out to the fire escape. If he wouldn't let him in, then he would have to do it himself. Once he found the correct window, he opened it and eased inside Jason's bedroom, only to find it wasn't empty. Cozied up on the bed, you were fast asleep and unaware of the Robin who had broken in.
"Did someone break in?" he thought, already ready to defend himself. Red Hood had a lot of enemies, but you didn't seem like one. No weapon. No signs of a struggle. Not even awake.
The sound of the shower came from the bathroom, which explained why Jason hadn't heard him at the door or how he must have overlooked.
Damian's mind raced, trying to come up with an explanation. Could it be a partner? No, Jason was far too much of a loner to work with anyone else besides the Outlaws. An apartment mix-up? No, nobody was stupid enough to fall asleep on someone else's bed unless they were drunk.
So he came up with the only other reasonable explanation he could. Clearly, a homeless person had noticed the unlocked window and decided to rest inside the apartment, thinking it was empty. Poor woman. A heat wave had taken over Gotham this year, so you must have needed the air conditioning. He would have to contact Bruce about helping you find a shelter. Obviously, you couldn't stay here.
Rolling over, your eyes fluttered open, finding a young boy staring back at you.
"What are you doing in here?" he demanded.
You shrieked, throwing a punch in his direction, which he easily blocked. The bathroom door burst open as Jason rushed out still in a towel, soap dripping from his wet hair, ready for a fight. "What's going on here?!" He scanned the room for a threat, only to find Damian standing in the middle of his bedroom, staring at you, who was equally confused.
"Damian?!" you asked in confusion. "What are you doing here?"
"I asked you the same thing!" Damian narrowed his gaze, voice tinged in suspicion. "How do you know my name?"
"You're Jason's little brother," you retorted. "Why are you here?"
"Answer my question first!" Damian shouted.
"Everyone just be quiet!" Jason exclaimed. "What is going on here?"
Damian turned, clearing his throat a bit. "Todd, it seems this homeless woman has broken into your house. While I usually would contact the police, I think it would be best if we find a shelter as soon as possible to get her out of the heat."
Jason facepalmed. Oh great! The very conversation he had been avoiding for months now had to come up this way, didn't it? No use in hiding it for so long, but the last thing he wanted was his nosy family involved in his relationships. Especially Bruce. No date would ever happen again without constantly looking over his shoulder, wondering if a nosy Bat was watching. He was never going to hear the end of this, was he?
Staring a moment, you were caught between laughing and confusion all at once. "Uh...I'm not homeless."
Damian turned, voice accusing, "Then are you an assassin sent for Red Hood?"
Jason sighed, "Dami, she's my girlfriend, okay? We both came back from a run, and she needed a break. Must have fell asleep while I was in the shower."
"Impossible," Damian scoffed. "Why would anyone be dating you?"
Okay, now you did laugh. Jason rolled his eyes. "Wow, thanks so much. Didn't know you had so much faith in me," he answered sarcastically.
"I mean, your older brother here is much more romantic than he seems," you replied, flashing a smile at Jason. "Guess reading all that Austen gave him some ideas."
Damian made a look of disgust, muttering an ew under his breath. "Are you aware that he spends his time murdering criminals?" he questioned.
"Damian, that's how we met. I'm a vigilante as well, and we share the same...methods," you explained. "Actually, it's kind of a crazy story. We hated each other at first because we shared territory, until he realized why I was actually driving him insane."
Jason flushed but looked away. "Shut up," he muttered.
"That still doesn't explain how you knew who I was," Damian said, staring at you with suspicion.
"Jay showed me some family photos," you explained, shooting a look at him. "Even if he puts on this cold attitude, he only pretends he doesn't care about you guys."
Now it was Jason's turn to be accused. Turning, Damian glared at him, "How long has this been going on? Why would you hide this from us? We're family, we should know about this!"
"Maybe I just don't want you guys knowing about every little thing I do, okay? It's my life, and I've earned some privacy," he scoffed. "And it's been nearly a year."
"A YEAR?" Damian yelled. "How could you keep this an entire year!"
"It did take a lot of work on both our parts," you shrugged.
"Dami, please don't tell anyone about this until I'm ready-" Jason begged, only for his phone to interrupt.
Suddenly, Jason's phone began blowing up with texts, and so did your own from several numbers you didn't recognize. One was already asking what you preferences would be for an upcoming dinner. Huh?
Jason glared at Damian, "What did you do?!"
Damian smirked, "I couldn't simply ignore this valuable information and keep it from the family. That's what you get for ignoring my calls the past week about that lead."
Jason looked like he was ready to slam his head against the wall, sinking onto the bed. "Nooooo!"
"I mean, we had to tell them eventually, right?" you countered, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Looks like I'm part of the family."
"Welcome," he scoffed. "Trust me, this chaos was only the tip of the iceberg."
To Jason's dismay, the secret had to be shared now, but if dealing with his insane family was what it took to keep you around, then he would happily.
After a long night of patrol/training, you find your boyfriend passed out. Naturally, you take this as an opportunity to execute another prank; setting up a fake Uno pile, fanning out a hand directly into his sleepy grip, and waking him up insisting it’s his turn.
characters: Jason Todd, Wally West, Dick Grayson, Roy Harper, Damian Wayne, Conner Kent x Reader
Jason Todd
The plan was foolproof. While Jay was out cold on his side of the bed, you quietly shuffled the deck, set up a random discard pile right on the duvet, and expertly fanned out four cards to slip straight into his massive, relaxed palm. You smoothed down the blanket, took your seat, and nudged his chest.
"Jay. Baby. Come on, it’s your turn. You’ve been taking forever."
You pout, “I’m getting impatient. And you’re just sleeping.”
Jason grunts, his brow furrowing as his brain painfully tries to boot back up. His fingers automatically clamp onto the cards. He blinks heavily, squints at the bright green and red cards in his grip, and you can see the sheer confusion hit him—followed immediately by the stubborn refusal to admit he was passed out.
He forces himself to sit up, dragging a hand aggressively down his face and rubbing his eyes with his sleeve, refusing to give up and lay back down. Voice raspy and deep as hell, he stares intensely down at his hand, shifting the cards around in slow motion.
"I wasn't sleeping, I was thinking," he lies, his voice totally shot. He leans forward, bleary-eyed, meticulously scanning your fake pile. "What's... what's on top? Is that a green?" He stubbornly forces his heavy eyelids open, carefully picks a green card out, and slaps it down like a grandmaster. "There. Go."
Wally West
Wally was sleeping so deeply he was practically drooling on his pillow. Perfect. You fanned out five cards, tucked them gently between his fingers, and made sure the discard pile looked legit right in frost of him. You tapped his arm with a tired sigh.
"Wally. Hey. Lay a card down, you're holding up the game."
Wally snaps his eyes open, completely disoriented. He looks down at his hand, blinks twice, and panic immediately sets in—he thinks he blew his turn and lost his streak. He refuses to go back to sleep. He forces himself up onto his elbows, shaking his head like a wet dog to fight the massive wall of tiredness, completely buying into the trap.
"Wait, wait, sorry baby, my bad, my bad," he stammers out, his voice a pathetic, sleepy whine. He squints hard at his cards, shuffling them back and forth with clumsy fingers, his forehead creased in absolute, intense concentration. "Did you... did you play a yellow? Sweetie, tell me what color it is, my eyes are blurry." He stubbornly sits there, fighting for his life against sleep, until he finally drops a Yellow 2 and looks at you with absolute, half-awake seriousness. "Okay, hit me."
Dick Grayson
Dick was dead to the world after patrol, curled on his side. You carefully laid out a trick hand, slid six cards into his palm, and set up the fake table right on the mattress. You leaned down and whispered right in his ear.
"Dickie. Stop slacking, it's your turn."
He lets out a heavy, groggy sigh, his eyelids fluttering open. He stares blankly at the cards in his hand for a long three seconds. Instead of falling back asleep, he complies, because of course, he has to trust his amazing girlfriend. He grunts, forcing himself to sit halfway up and propping his head on one hand, completely committed to staying awake for the "match."
He holds the fan of cards up right in front of his face, squinting so hard one eye is basically closed. "I'm not slacking..." he mutters, his voice super thick and raspy. He carefully reorganizes his hand, tapping a card against his chin in deep thought while fighting off a yawn. "Is that a Blue 4? Okay. Don’t rush me. Hold on." He meticulously selects a card, lays it down with dramatic focus, and squints up at you. "Your turn sweetie.”
Roy Harper
Roy had taken a "five-minute nap" that turned into two hours. You placed a stack of fake played cards on the blanket, carefully placed a fan of seven cards into his grip, and shook his shoulder.
"Roy. Wake up, you're up."
Roy grunts, a dry, scratchy sound, and blinks open two bleary eyes.
“Up for wha— oh right.” He looks down at the cards, and you can practically hear his brain trying to load at 1%. But Roy isn't a quitter. He groans softly, forcing himself to sit up against the headboard, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with his palm to snap out of it.
"...What was played?" he rasps out, his voice totally rough. He stares intensely down at his cards, fanning them out with heavy, slow movements, totally convinced he's mid-game. He stubbornly stays upright, blinking against the room light, carefully picking out a Red 6 and laying it on the pile. "There. Back to you."
Damian Wayne
Damian would never admit to being caught off guard, which made him the ultimate target. While he was dead asleep post-training, you delicately slid four cards between his fingers, placed the deck down, and crossed your arms.
"Damian. Hurry up, it's your turn."
His eyes instantly open, sharp even through the haze of sleep. He looks down at his hand, and for a split second, total confusion flashes across his face. But his pride won't allow him to back down or drop the cards. He immediately sits bolt upright, rigid as a board, holding his hand close to his chest so you can't peek.
He squeezes his eyes shut for a second to force the drowsiness away, squinting severely at his hand. "I am well aware," he lies in a low, crackly morning voice. He takes an agonizingly long time analyzing his four cards, fighting every urge to crash back onto his pillow, just to make a "calculated" move. He solemnly lays down a Wild card with absolute precision. "Blue. Proceed."
Conner Kent
Conner was passed out hard, snoring softly. You quickly set up the illusion—cards scattered, a neat discard pile, and five cards tucked firmly into his fingers. You poked his shoulder.
"Con, come on, stop taking so long."
Conner groans, shaking his head, his heavy eyelids barely parting. He looks down at his palm, and the utter panic of someone who thinks they fell asleep mid-hangout hits him. He forces himself up, sitting on the edge of the bed, dragging both hands over his face to force his brain awake.
"Shoot— sorry, I was just... thinking," he stammers out, completely tricked. He holds his cards up, squinting heavily through his messy hair, intensely analyzing the hand. He shifts the cards around between his thumbs, completely locked in. "Wait, what's the number on top? A five?" He hovers a card over the pile, double-checking it with dead seriousness before dropping a Draw Two with a smug, sleepy grin. "Boom. Draw two. Try and keep up."
Hi lover, I could request Jason with a sensitive girlfriend? Could be a one shot and fluff love u writing 💗
sunshine girl
SUMMARY: you tend to take things to heart and feel every emotion with tenfold the weight as everyone else. so, when jason makes an off-hand, teasing comment, it crushes your entire world.
warnings: fluff, hurt/comfort, f!reader, established relationship, err the italics indicate a flashback/a past convo but i feel like that's implied, just a bunch of misunderstanding, pet names
wc: 1.2k
Jason knew from the very beginning that you had a tender heart and a fragile soul. He also swore from the very beginning that he'd so absolutely anything to protect you—nobody would ever hurt you, talk down to you, ridicule you, make you feel small…
In all the two years Jason had been dating you, he'd always been careful with your feelings. He knew that even a bit of teasing could make your self-esteem go poof! and he never dared to speak in a hard tone with you.
But the other, he went and broke his rules—he didn't mean to, but it still happened.
"Do you need something, doll?" He asks you, watching as you nuzzle into his side, arms around his torso.
Your head shakes. "Mm, no. I just like being close to you, though."
He smiles softly, patting your head with his rough hand, giving your hair a little ruffle. "Of course you do. My little clinger, hm?"
Your chest ached funnily as your eyes flickered to the floor. Jesus, why did that hurt so bad? You only force out a quiet chuckle, your grip loosening slightly around his waist as you prepare to pull away.
Did he really find you clingy? You should lay off, huh? Who are you kidding, of course he hates your clinginess—who would enjoy it? Thoughts race through your head as you make your way to your bedroom, ignoring as Jason calls your name confusedly.
Your door clicks shut behind you and you lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying the conversation over and over and over. You know you're probably being dramatic, sensitive as usual, but you can't help it; it hurts, what Jason said, even if he was only joking.
"Ma?" a gentle knock rings through the door. "Where'd ya go?"
You think for a moment. Don't be clingy. "I'm taking a nap," you call back through the door. "I'll be up in a few hours, don't worry."
"Okay. I can join you in a minute. I promised I'd let you be the little spoon this time—"
"—That's okay, Jay," you reply, even as it hurts you to turn down a chance to cozy up with your boyfriend. Don't be clingy. "I'll sleep alone this time."
"…Okay…?"
He's been mulling over the interaction ever since, wanting to punch himself for being so stupid. He should never have said that to you—jokingly or not. He knows better. But now his sweet baby is pulling away and he doesn't know what to do about it.
You haven't contacted him in days aside from a few funny cat reels sent on Instagram—only one every few hours, nothing like the onslaught of reels he'd usually get in the span of only 30 minutes. And every time you do text him, it's only because he texted first. He's tried 3 times to make plans with you, only to be met with a I can't do then, sorry, Jay! Maybe another time?
Except there's never another time.
Jason knows you probably don't want to see him—you're avoiding him like the plague, after all. But he genuinely doesn't know if he'll survive another day without seeing your beautiful, sweet little face in person, not in some photo on his wallpaper.
He knocks, loud enough so you hear but not so loud that it sounds angry or demanding—he knows you like the happy medium. He hears your footsteps approach the door, and there's a long, silent pause before the door swings open.
"Jason?" you look up at him, confused. "What're you doing here?"
He shrugs. "I missed my girl. That a crime?"
"N-no! It's just…you didn't tell me you were coming and—"
"—These are for you," he interrupts, pulling a gorgeous, luscious bouquet of flowers from behind his back. He places the bouquet in your hands, not even giving you a chance to decline as he shuts the door behind him.
As your mouth opens and closes, searching for words, he leans down and presses a warm kiss to your temple. "I'll get out a fresh vase."
You stand, frozen at the door as he invites himself into your kitchen, finding a glass vase in the cabinet and filling it with water. To say the least, you're confused. First he tells you that you're clingy, then he shows up to your apartment unannounced four days later with flowers?
"I know they're beautiful, doll, but you gotta hand 'em over," his voice invades your thoughts, causing you to blink out of whatever haze you were just in and release your grip on the flower stems. "Thank you."
You nod. "What made you show up? I figured you'd want your space."
Jason swears he can feel his heart break clean in half as he cuts the flower stems and puts them in the ornate vase. He hates, hates that he made his babygirl think he wanted space from her—as if he could ever wish for a moment apart.
"What made you think that, baby?" he asks. He already knows the answer, of course, but he wants to hear it from you.
You shrug, looking down at your hands as you pick at your fingernails. "Well, you said I was clingy."
"When?"
"When we were in my kitchen on Wednesday. You called me a little clinger. I-I didn't mean to make you feel suffocated or anything, Jay! I really didn't. So I decided to give you space so—"
You're cut off by a loud, raspy chuckle from Jason's lips. It makes you frown; so now he's laughing at you? "You crack me up, love."
Your frown deepens, eyes looking at his so big and sad. "Why are you laughing at me…?"
"Not at you, doll, at that brain of yours," he corrects, wiping his hands on a towel before taking your hand, guiding you to the couch and into his lap. He taps 2 fingers against your temple. "It made my angel think that I'd ever desire a moment away from her."
You blink. "But you said—"
"—I know what I said, sweet girl. I was only teasing, I didn't mean it as you were clingy in a bad way," he explains, one big hand coming up to smooth over your hair. "I know, I should be smarter than to tease you; I know you don't like it. I'm so sorry, ma, you have no idea.
"I really didn't mean to make you think you were too much. You never need to dim your sunshine for me, baby, okay?"
He doesn't continue until you nod in understanding. He wants to get through to you, to make sure you truly grasp how important you are to him.
"I love you, so much it hurts," he says, cupping your face in his hands. "You are enough. You are worthy. You are beautiful. And you are my favorite person in this world."
Your chin quivers, tears building in your eyes despite yourself. They're good tears, of course. Jason has never done anything other than make you feel seen, loved, needed…you regret ever thinking anything otherwise.
He coos. "Aww. Don't cry, sweetheart." His thumb comes up to wipe the wetness from your cheeks. "You know I love you, yeah?"
You nod.
"And you know you'll always be enough for me, yeah? Not too much, not too little. Just enough. Perfect."
You sniffle. "I love you, Jay," you murmur, melting into his embrace. "I'm sorry for ignoring you…"
He shakes his head vehemently. "Don't apologize to me, doll. You got nothing to be sorry for. Keep being my sunshine girl, m'kay?
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Summary: you come home, very drunk, and see a very hot guy sitting on your couch… so naturally you ask him out!
It starts with a simple, high-pitched gasp in the middle of your living room.
Jason is sitting on the couch in a gray t-shirt and sweatpants, laptop on his knees, mid-snack, when you stumble through the front door. You’re wearing one of his oversized jacket slung over your shoulders, your cheeks flushed red from two too many margaritas with your friends, and your hair a complete, chaotic masterpiece.
He sets his laptop aside immediately, a half-amused, half-concerned smirk already forming on his lips. "Hey, sweetheart. How was girls' night—"
He doesn't get to finish. The moment your eyes land on him, your hands fly to your face, covering your red-hot cheeks. You freeze in place, staring at him through your fingers as if you’ve just spotted a celebrity in a coffee shop.
"Oh," you whisper loud enough for the whole apartment complex to hear. "Oh my god."
Jason blinks, pausing. "What?"
You kick off your shoes—completely missing the rack—and take three deliberate, overly cautious, drunk steps toward the couch. Your eyes are wide, glassy, and completely starstruck.
"Who are you?" you ask, leaning over the back of the couch, resting your chin on your folded hands. You beam at him, giggling softly. "Because you are... so pretty. Like so hot. Has anyone ever told you that? You look like a whole movie star."
Jason slowly looks down at his faded t-shirt, then back up at you. A playful glint flickers in his blue eyes as the reality hits him: You have completely forgotten you're already dating him.
"A movie star, huh?" Jason drawls, leaning back against the cushions and crossing his arms over his chest. He bites down on the inside of his cheek to keep from bursting out laughing. "Can't say I hear that one often. I'm Jason."
"Jason," you sigh, the name rolling off your tongue like a melody. You sway slightly where you stand, blushing down to your collarbone. "That's a nice name. I'm... well, you know. I'm me."
"Nice to meet you, Me," he says softly, his voice dropping into that smooth, low register he knows makes you melt. "What's a girl like you doing flustered in my living room?"
"I live here! I think?" You look around the apartment, thoroughly confused for a split second, before your focus snaps right back to him like a magnet. You lean in closer, whispering conspiratorially, "Listen... I know this is crazy, but... are you single?"
You pause, then giggle, “wanna know a secret? I actually wanna marry you but I think asking you if you’re single is less advanced.”
Jason bites his lower lip, trying—and failing—to hide a massive grin. "Am I single? Well... that's a tough question."
Your face falls instantly into a dramatic, adorable pout, and you genuinely look devastated. "Oh no. You have a girlfriend?"
"I do," Jason says softly, watching your reaction.
"Is she pretty?" you ask, sniffling just a little bit, clearly heartbroken.
"She's gorgeous," Jason says, his voice softening. He reaches out, grabbing your wrist gently, and pulls you over the back of the couch until you tumble right onto his lap. You gasp, your hands landing flat against his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart. "She’s got this ridiculously cute laugh, gets super giggly when she drinks, and is currently sitting on my lap looking at me like I hung the moon."
You stare at him, your brain slowly churning through the alcoholic fog.
1... 2... 3 seconds pass.
"Wait," you whisper, your eyes going wide. "I just drank and I am fairly giggly."
"You are."
"And I'm on your lap."
"You are."
"...I'm the pretty girlfriend?!"
Jason couldn't hold it back anymore; he threw his head back and laughed, the deep, rumbling sound vibrating through his chest against your palms. "Yes, dummy. You're the pretty girlfriend. We've been together for over a year."
A look of pure, unadulterated triumph washes over your face. You kick your feet up, burying your burning face right into the crook of his neck, muffled giggles spilling out against his skin. "I scored so hard," you mutter into his collar. "He's huge and he's mine."
"Yeah, yeah, you hit the lottery," Jason chuckled, his broad arms wrapping snugly around your waist, pulling you close so you wouldn't slide off. He kissed the top of your head, resting his chin on your hair. "Come on, baby. Let's get you some water and into bed before you try to ask me out again."
"Wait!" You pop your head back up, cheeks still bright red, poking his chest with a single finger. "So... does this mean you won't go on a date with me?"
Jason shook his head, a soft, fond smile softening his rugged features. "I'll take you on a date every single day of the week, sweetie. Now go to sleep."
.𖥔 ݁ ˖ sypnosis — in which jason has gotten used to your affection aka he's spoiled
.𖥔 ݁ ˖ tags — fluff, domesticity, slice of life, puppy jason?, kinda based off my last fic, ooc jason, mild language, reader loves him... even if she denies it, strict reader back at it
.𖥔 ݁ ˖ wc — 1.6k
author's note — thank you guys for all the support my last fic got! i love u guys so much sooo i had this one in my drafts and it's all yours
you were just humming in the kitchen, washing up the big ol’ pile of dishes in the sink. jason wanted to help, but you said no, really because he wasn't super great at it, but hey, you liked that he put in the effort.
your pyjamas were all soft and snug on your skin, thanks to jason throwing them in the dryer before you changed. but you had this sneaky feeling he picked out the tiniest ones on purpose.
the wooden scrubber in your hand was on its last legs, and that garlic parmesan from dinner wasn't helping much. you were scrapping extra hard, making sure there wasn't a crumb left behind.
you finished the dishes with a relieved sigh, drying up your hands on the towel by the sink before you dimmed the amber lights of the kitchen.
after, you grabbed a few matches from the little drawer near the fridge along with a stick of your favorite incense. your steps padded softly towards the dining table. the freshly mopped floors felt cool against your feet.
you set the little stick on the holder and lit it up, quickly blowing on it so the smoke could fill the apartment with its scent. taking a slow exhale, you paused to appreciate the quietness.
jason had left for patrol a little while ago, or so you thought, and you settled into that soft solitude that crept in when he wasn't around. it was nice not to have a two-hundred-pound guy taking up half the space. for the most part.
you decided to head to the living room to clean up the mess from the board games you two played earlier. you’d rather get it done sooner than later, knowing you wouldn't want to get up and clean after getting into bed.
then suddenly, his voice broke the quiet.
“did i do something wrong?”
“sweet baby jesus!” you gasped, hand flying to your chest, your breath heavy as you looked at him through wide eyes.
“what is wrong with you?" you asked, trying to calm your racing heart. he looked kind of intimidating, just a shadow in the corner, barely lit, but you recognized that little pout of his from a mile away. “what do you want, jace?”
“you didn’t say goodbye,” he said, stepping into the light, his frown small but there. he was just standing by the window where he usually went out for patrol, helmet held under his arm, just waiting there so still that it threw you off.
“what are you talking about? i said bye,” you replied, finally letting your hand drop from your chest and mussing your hair.
“nuh uh.”
you lifted your gaze to him, a frown tugging at your eyebrows. “oh yes huh,” you shot back.
“nuh uh.”
“yes huh!”
“nuh uh!” he exclaimed, raising his voice, his fingers clenching into a fist.
you raised an eyebrow, your hand resting on your hip. “is that an attitude i hear?” you asked, taking slow steps towards him. you noticed how his jaw was all tight and his eyes were full of uncertainty.
you watched him bite his lip, words struggling to form. his hands curled into fists, relaxed, then curled again until his helmet slipped from under his arm and clattered onto the floor.
“jason?”
he stared at the wall behind you before mumbling, “you didn’t kiss me goodbye.”
you blinked at him. “excuse me?” that seemed to flip a switch in him. he turned to you, looking worried.
“are you mad at me? what did i do?” he whispered, his hand reaching out to rest on your waist, his fingers curling around it perfectly.
you sighed, your hands momentarily covering your cheeks. you couldn't believe he was serious. “you think I’m mad... because i didn’t give you a goodbye kiss?” you asked slowly, wondering if he was just teasing.
he nodded, his bottom lip poking out a bit as he squeezed your waist for comfort. you rolled your eyes and smacked his hand away.
“you are mad!” he accused.
“am not!” you huffed, “you’re just being silly, and now you’ve lost patrol time!”
“okay, but what if i get hurt without my good luck kiss?” he countered, placing his hand back on your waist while snaking the other around you, completely capturing you against his muscles.
“you are ridiculous,” you muttered under your breath, looking up into his expectant yet pleading eyes. “if i kiss you, will you go?”
he nodded eagerly.
“ugh, fine, but only because i want you to leave,” you said, leaning in for a quick peck on his lips. but that plan went awry as he leaned in for another kiss... and another... and another.
“jason, goddammit, jason!” you said, struggling to squirm away from his grip. his stubble was scratching against your skin, and you could already see your skin breaking out the next morning.
he kept launching his little smooch attack until you felt like a total glob in his arms. your expression blank as his lips planted kisses everywhere, from your chin to your hairline.
after one last big smooch and a loud “mwah,” he finally released you, flashing a toothy grin while you shot him your best annoyed look.
“you leaving now?” you mumbled, glancing at him as he nodded, turning back to the window, gripping the edge, and wiggling a bit before jumping out.
you sighed at the absurdity of it all. “you forgot your helmet!” you said, crouching down to grab the red thing and tossing it out the window. “fucking loser,” you muttered.
“hey!” you heard him yell from outside, but you weren’t sure if he was offended about his helmet getting tossed or if it was because you called him a loser... which he was.
after a few seconds, you took a deep breath in and let it out. finally, he was gone.
you turned around and got back into your rhythm, bending down to pick up the dice and all the scattered uno cards left on the coffee table. you even found one tucked under the couch...where jason conveniently sat before he somehow won. suspicious.
you carefully stacked all the cards into a neat little deck, using one of your hair ties to keep them together before putting them on the bottom shelf and moving on to the dice, placing them inside a wine glass that decorated the tabletop.
with a grunt, you got back up and put your hands on your hips, glancing around the apartment. it was a bit messy, but good enough for you. plus, it was late, and your phone was probably getting paranoid about how long you’d been away from it.
you wandered into your shared bedroom and collapsed onto the bed that sat in the middle of the room.
his cologne still clung to the sheets from when he'd gotten dressed, and you couldn't help but wrap yourself up in a burrito while you dug for your phone beneath the pillows.
"five minutes," that's what you told yourself. just five minutes on social media before you went to sleep. but then five turned into ten, ten into thirty, and before you knew it, you heard the sound of jason climbing back through the bedroom window.
the sound of his kevlar suit echoed as he moved closer to the bed. you heard the soft hiss as he took off the helmet and felt the way the mattress sunk as he placed it near your feet.
you waited for him to climb in, one minute, two minutes... two and a half. until you turned around, looking at him over your shoulder
“dude, are you getting in?” you asked, eyeing him up and down to make sure he wasn’t hurt before you started to scold him. he looked fine, a few scratches here and there, but overall, he was okay. good.
he didn’t say anything, though, and you rolled your eyes. his gaze was locked on you, and he couldn’t help but notice how the blue light from your phone made your eyes shine and defined the slope of your nose.
“i’m not dealing with another one of your tantrums,” you muttered under your breath as you turned back to your mukbangs of the most beautiful desserts in LA.
another half a minute went by, and you grunted as you glanced back at him. you knew what he wanted, of course, but c’mon! he was getting way too spoiled lately. too bratty. you couldn’t just give in to everything.
“if i do it, will you stop staring at me? it’s kind of creepy,” you said as you struggled to untangle yourself from the blankets before sitting up to face him. he just nodded.
“ugh, fine,” you muttered, scooting over and starting to ruffle the sheets on his side of the bed. “c’mon, c'mere handsome,” you cooed, using that soft voice you usually reserved for stray cats in crime alley, but somehow he got to be the exception.
he immediately started yanking off his heavy boots, tossing them who knows where, and then leaped on top of you.
“for fuck’s sake, jason! how many times do i have to tell you—” you were cut off when his lips began to wander over yours and then down to your chin.
“i missed you over there,” he whispered, his hands wrapping around your waist as he rolled onto his back, pulling you with him.
“yeah, well, i didn’t,” you mumbled.
“oh yeah? then why are you all cuddled up in these blankets like that?” he shot back with that lazy grin, his face getting way too close to yours. you hated how much you loved those little dimples of his. “is it because i sprayed my cologne?”
Summary: Due to busy schedules, you and your boyfriend don't get to spend much time together. When you finally get a night off, Jason plans the perfect date night to hopefully make up for the weeks without your affection. But does it ever go as planned?
Contents: fluff, emotional hurt/comfort, established relationship, Jason Todd x reader, touch starved Jason, reader insecurity, domestic relationship, miscommunication, happy ending
pt.1, pt.2
1.3k
Both of your lives were busy. For different reasons, of course, but busy nonetheless. Jason knew that.
Still, he found himself missing you more and more, even when you technically shared a bed, had your coffees in the mornings together and tried to spend at least one night together a week.
But recently, you have been coming home later than usual, missing him leave before falling into bed and rushing out the apartment in the mornings.
Jason hated that. So much. He missed falling asleep without you cuddling up to him, hated waking up knowing that you were already about to leave for classes and hated, absolutely hated, you having to postpone date nights.
Maybe he should have a word with your professor, or boss, or both.
He is still in bed when he gets a text message. He ignores it, but then, immediately after, gets a second one, and another one.
He reaches out for his phone on the night stand, either someone died or is about to die.
He sees your name on his display, and as he unlocks his phone to read the message, his entire day, even week, gets 100% better.
You: coworker had to switch shifts
You: I don't have to come in today
You: I HAVE A NIGHT OFF!!! YOU BETTER BE HOME WHEN I COME BACK
Jason can't believe his complaining was actually heard and answered by this miracle shift switch.
Jason: Date night?
You: you better have everything prepared and ready
You: have to go but love you
He rolls over to your side of the bed, pulls your pillow close and pretends it is you for a second. Jesus Christ. He is pathetic. He stops to get up and ready to prepare the best date night in months.
Jason's mental to-do list grows more and more after every task he finishes. First, it was just: get groceries, choose an activity. But then he sees the dishes piling up. After finishing the dishes, he thinks that the shelves could use some dusting again, then he vacuums the whole apartment, changes the sheets on the bed and puts the blanked on the sofa in the washing machine as well and then notices, too late, that you two might need it tonight.
Well, fuck.
After he forces himself to focus on his two actual tasks at hand, he swings open the apartment door and leaves.
A while later, he returns, stocks the fridge with your favourite beverages and some other crap and drops onto the sofa.
He skips through some streaming services' selection of movies. Sure he loves reading, especially with you. But tonight, he wanted to focus on you. Preferably without you noticing that he hasn't turned a single page in ten minutes.
He thinks all of the options are shit.
He will just let you decide.
He hears keys turning in the apartment door lock. You come in, the exhausted look hanging on your face for weeks leaving in an instant when you see him on the sofa.
Jason looks so peaceful. A bit on edge, sure, but he always did that. Today, he had a soft smile on his face and wore comfortable clothes, making him radiate an almost cozy energy.
You put your bag down.
“Give me ten and I'll be with you.” You give him a smile as your words leave your mouth, then you start peeling off your clothes on the way to the bathroom.
“No, come here.” He hells after you, but before he can even follow you, the bathroom door is locked.
You quickly shower, and then sneak into the bedroom, to pull out sweatpants and one of Jason's big shirts that you claimed ownership of months ago.
When you finally stand in the doorway to the livingroom, you tilt your head.
"Where's the blanket?”
"Washing machine." Jason answers.
“Oh.”
“You get the snacks, I'll get the blankets from the bed.” Was his solution. “But can you please come here first.”
You contemplated, you really want the blankets and something between the two of you.
Jason apparently notices the doubt on your face, because the man slouches into himself and furrows his brows.
"What's wrong?” He asks, tone forced to stay even.
“I just want the blanket, it's cold.” A lie.
"It's summer.”
“In Gotham.”
“Youre acting weird. What's wrong?” This time Jason's voice cracks.
You feel bad for lying but the truth isn't much better either.
“What's wrong?” He repeats again. He gets up, makes his way to you till he towers over you. “Have I done something?”
You look up to him, your arms clinging onto each other in front of your chest. He keeps up the eye contact till you turn your head to the side and sign.
“I don't really want to have this conversation right now. Can't we just talk tomorrow?” You ask, still no eye contact.
“When you leave before I'm even awake or when you come home when I'm already on patrol?” The words were cutting and you could hear anger seething below them.
You don't answer him.
He moves past you. You see him putting on his shoes.
“Where are you going?”
“For a walk.” He says.
He slams the door shut behind himself. You can hear his heavy footsteps stomp down the old wooden stairs of your apartment complex.
Great.
Jason wanders the streets for about fifteen minutes. He doesn't have a plan on where to go, but a specific destination wasn't the goal anyway.
He was so happy to find out you were going to come home early today. He really craves the affection the past busy weeks were lacking. He was going insane. Every morning that he woke up without you next to him cost him at least a few years of his life span.
He could physically feel the effects of it.
He hated it. He hated not having you near him and now you two were fighting.
Fucking great.
He walks past a late night convenience store and stops as he feels his phone vibrating in his pocket.
It was you.
“Hello?”
He answered, that's a good sign, right?
You grip your phone tighter.
“Hey.” Silence followed.
“Sorry, I don't want to fight. Please come back?”
A humming from the other end.
“Why won't you tell me what's wrong?”
You take a deep breath, you feel embarrassed and exposed, not wanting to give the stupid reason for your imaginary no-touch-rule.
"It's stupid.” You confess.
“Tell me anyway.”
“I feel ugly.”
A scoff followed you deep dark confession.
“Im serious. I haven't had the time to take care of myself recently. And I honestly didn't want you to see me like this. It's not fair, you look good. Always. And I can't even, I don't know-”
“Baby, you know I love you, right? And I've been craving some time together for forever now.”
Jason's words warm your insides a bit.
“I love you, too. And I want you back here now.” You smile as you say that.
When the doorbell rings, you're confused, but open anyway.
Drenched like a wet dog, Jason comes up the stairs, grinning like a madman.
“It started raining.” He bridged the space between you with the last couple of steps.
“I can see that.” You answer him.
He holds out his hand. “I bought flowers.”
You take them and look at him, not able to hide your smile any longer. You pull him inside by his wet shirt, put down the flowers on the old hallway table and wrap your arms around him.
He strokes your hair with one hand, joy just flooding through him at the touch.
He leans down a bit, lifting your face with his other hand.
content: vi x reader. 1.2k words. a part two to this fake dating au. you and vi are supposed to go on your first date, but not everything goes to plan. some fluff, followed by light angst with a happy resolution.
You feel sick to your stomach.
Not from nerves – actually, medically sick. Which is a problem, because in about thirty minutes Vi, your fake-girlfriend-turned-actual-date, is coming to pick you up.
You tried Tylenol, a warm compress, a cold shower. Nothing. You feel hot and sticky and sick. Definitely sick.
You could cancel. You should cancel. That would be fine. Vi would understand. But that doesn’t stop the churning in your stomach. You wanted to get tonight over with. Not because you didn’t like Vi, the opposite. You were dangerously infatuated with her. Who wouldn’t be?
But you have this gnawing pit in your stomach.
If Vi really has liked you for as long as she said, there’s nothing to worry about. But nervous thoughts rattle around in your head regardless.
The throbbing in the back of your skull sharpens.
You groan and flop back onto your bed, head falling dangerously close to your pillow. Maybe you could close your eyes, just for a moment.
Then, there’s a knock at the door. You check your phone – there are still twenty minutes before Vi was supposed to show up.
Another knock, more tentative this time.
You open the door, and standing on your welcome mat is Vi, holding a bouquet of roses. A full dozen. If it’s possible, your face goes hotter.
Before you can get anything out, ask her what she’s doing here, she interrupts you. “Sorry, I know I’m early, I just–” Vi stops mid-sentence. “Are you okay?”
Great to have confirmation you look as bad as you feel.
You swallow, and it hurts. “I’m sorry, I was about to text you. I think I’m sick.”
She takes you in, from your fuzzy slippers to your unwashed hair. “Yeah, I can see that.”
You expect her to hand over the flowers, wish you well, and head down the stairs. Instead, she shrugs off her jacket and steps inside. You move aside for her without thinking. It’s not until she’s toeing off her boots that you realize what she’s doing.
You protest immediately. “You should go, I’m gonna get you sick.” Your voice is cheese-grater rough, and getting fainter with each use. You waste another few precious words to warn her, “You don’t want to catch this. It’s really bad.”
She wanders into your kitchen. “If it’s so bad I can’t just leave you here. You got tea?”
She opens a cabinet at random, and you should be more concerned by this flagrant invasion of privacy, but instead you have to fight very hard not to swoon.
“I can make some myself,” you insist. You’re undermined by the coughing fit your words trigger. Vi’s gaze softens and she takes a step closer.
You step back instinctively, a hand held up in warning.
She takes another step, hands resting on your shoulders. “I have a strong immune system, I promise. Just point to the right cabinet and then go lie down.”
Not the way you had hoped she’d be getting you into bed. What an inauspicious start to your relationship. Not that you were even in a relationship yet, not officially.
You waddle to your bedroom and flop down onto the sheets, not even bothering to get under the covers. That’s how Vi finds you. She coaxes you, like a stray dog she’s found, under the duvet. Then she leaves again, turning off the lights on her way out.
She re-enters your cool, dark room, with a cup of tea and your largest mixing bowl. “In case you hurl,” she says. It’s thoughtful, and a little gross.
She hesitates by the doorway. “I’ll hang out here for a minute, okay?”
You don’t answer her question. Instead, you ask, “Does this count as our first date?”.
She pauses for a moment, hand smoothing some imagined crease in her shirt. “I think we can do a little better than this.” Her grin is crooked, and, if your feverish mind isn’t deceiving you, she looks a little nervous.
Your head feels too heavy now to raise it off the pillow. “Oh, okay.” You don’t say anything else.
She inches a little closer at that. “Why, you don’t think so?”
You shrug a shoulder, unsure if she can make the motion out from under the covers. “I just don’t want to jinx things.”
Vi winces.
You run the sentence over again in your mind. “Sorry, did I say something?”
She shakes her head. “No, you’re good. I should let you rest. I’ll be in the living room, okay?” She winks, closes the door behind her, and you let yourself fall, finally, into sleep.
You wake up to Vi’s fingers smoothing your brow. When your eyes flicker open, you see her staring from where she’s hovering over you, the concern plain on her face.
“Hey, there you are.” The corner of her lip tugs. “Sorry for waking you, you seemed like you were having a bad dream.”
You were, now that she’s mentioned it. A dream you’ve had a thousand times. It always goes a little like this: you come home from work, exhausted. You drop your keys in the dish by the door, leave your coat in the closet. You patter over to the bedroom door and open it to see your girlfriend tangled up with a leggy blond she promised a thousand times was just a friend.
But this time it wasn’t Bianca you caught. It was Vi.
And you don’t know how to explain this to her. So instead, you just shrug when she asks you what the dream was about.
Soon after you wake up, she has to leave – she has “a thing”. Part of you wonders exactly what kind of thing it is, who it’s with. You try to beat that part of you into submission. You’re not a couple, not yet, and you never will be if you smother her or get jealous of phantoms. You manage not to ask until you see her in person next, at your shift at The Last Drop.
“Yeah, a friend of mine asked me to come to this rally.” The answer comes easily, while she’s polishing a glass.
You choke down the burning question – what kind of friend, exactly? – and instead change the subject to your next date, which Vi insisted wait until you were feeling a hundred percent better, which was an admirable show of concern for you – or was it an attempt to put the date off as long as possible?
Something in your expression must have given itself away, because Vi catches you by the wrist.
“Is everything okay with you?” Her brows furrow when she asks, and she seems so earnest. But so did Bianca, up until the end. Maybe Vi is fooling you just as easily.
You shake the thought away. That’s not fair to Vi. And it’s not fair to yourself. There were signs, in retrospect. Everything is clearer through the rearview mirror. But you wanted to believe Bianca because you loved her. And wanting to see the best in someone doesn’t make you stupid. At least, you hope not.
Vi calls your name out, and you realize you never answered her question.
“Yeah, everything’s great.” You smile at her. It is, isn’t it? You have a good job, good friends, a girl you like – one who likes you back.
Vi seems unconvinced. “Because if you’re having second thoughts–”
You don’t get to know exactly what Vi was planning to say next, because you kiss her. It just feels right. And with her lips against yours, all you can think about is Vi. Not the ways this could go wrong, not the secrets she might be keeping from you. Just her.
i tagged everyone who asked to be tagged on the original, lmk if you want off this list! alternatively, lmk if you want to be tagged in future chapters
Can I request Jason Todd with a reader that’s really soft spoken, extremely kind and caring, but very asocial/introverted/shut in?
Soft Spaces
navigation , dc navigation
requests are open
dividers by @cafekitsune
Jason Todd had exactly three regular customers at his bookstore in Crime Alley.
Mrs. Chen, who bought romance novels and always paid in exact change. Marcus, a teenager who read graphic novels in the corner and occasionally actually bought one. And you.
You came in every Tuesday and Thursday at 4 PM, bought a book, said "thank you" in a voice barely above a whisper, and left.
You'd been doing this for six months.
Jason still didn't know your name.
"You could ask them," Roy said, sprawled across the counter during one of his visits.
"Ask who what?"
"The cute regular. Their name. Maybe their phone number. Normal people stuff."
"I don't need their phone number."
"You watch the door every Tuesday and Thursday starting at 3:45."
"I'm observing foot traffic patterns."
"You're pining."
"I don't pine."
"You're doing something sad and longing. That's pining."
Jason was saved from responding by the bell above the door. 4 PM. Tuesday.
You walked in, and like clockwork, headed straight for the classics section. You were wearing an oversized sweater, jeans, and the same nervous expression you always had—like being in public was slightly overwhelming and you were trying very hard to manage it.
"I'm just saying," Roy whispered, "that's a person who looks like they could use a friend."
"They look like they want to be left alone."
"Or they look like they're lonely and don't know how to not be."
Jason hated that Roy had a point.
You approached the counter with your selection—Jane Eyre, a worn paperback copy—and set it down carefully, not quite making eye contact.
"Just this today?" Jason asked, keeping his voice gentle. He'd learned early on that you startled easily.
"Yes, please." Your voice was soft, almost musical. "Thank you."
"You've got good taste. Brontë's underrated."
You looked up briefly, surprised. "You've read it?"
"Yeah. The madwoman in the attic is basically a gothic horror subplot in a romance novel. It's great."
The smallest smile crossed your face. "I never thought of it that way."
"Most people don't. They focus on Rochester and Jane, miss the whole psychological terror aspect."
"That's... actually a really good point." You were still looking at him, and Jason realized this was the longest conversation you'd ever had.
Then you seemed to realize it too, because you quickly looked down, pulling out cash. "How much?"
"Six fifty."
You handed him exact change—you always had exact change—and took your book.
"Thanks," you said again, already turning toward the door.
"Wait—" Jason said before he could stop himself.
You paused, looking back nervously.
"I'm Jason. I, uh, own the store. I realized I've been seeing you twice a week for months and never actually introduced myself."
"Oh." You clutched your book. You practcally mumbled your name and if Jason wasn't so focused on you, he would have missed it.
"Nice to officially meet you."
"You too." You hesitated, like you wanted to say something else, then just gave a small wave and left.
Roy waited exactly ten seconds before saying: "That was painful to watch."
"Shut up."
"You like them."
"I don't even know them."
"You want to know them. That's the same thing." Roy grinned. "And they smiled at you. That's basically a marriage proposal in shy person language."
"You're an idiot."
"An idiot who's right."
Thursday
You came in at 4 PM, same as always. But this time, you looked more tired than usual, like you hadn't slept well.
Jason noticed because he was pathetic and noticed everything about you.
You browsed longer than normal, picking up books and putting them back, clearly unable to decide.
After fifteen minutes, Jason walked over. "Can I help you find something?"
You jumped slightly. "Oh. Sorry. I'm just... I can't decide what I want to read next."
"What kind of mood are you in?"
"I don't know. Something... comforting? I've had a long week."
Jason thought for a moment. "Come here."
He led you to a different section, pulled out a worn copy of The House at Riverton. "Kate Morton. Historical fiction, mysterious, but ultimately hopeful. Good for when you need something engaging but not too heavy."
You took it, reading the back cover. "This looks perfect. Thank you."
"No problem. That's literally my job."
You smiled again, and Jason's heart did something stupid.
"Can I ask you something?" he said.
"Okay."
"Why here? There are bigger bookstores, libraries, online shopping. Why come to a crime alley bookshop twice a week?"
You were quiet for a moment, considering. "It's quiet. The big stores are overwhelming. Too many people, too much noise. Here it's..." You looked around. "Peaceful. Safe."
"Safe?"
"Red Hood protects this neighborhood." You said it matter-of-factly, like it was obvious. "Everyone knows that. It's the safest place in Gotham for people like me."
Jason's throat felt tight. You had no idea you were talking to Red Hood. No idea that your safety was his personal mission.
"People like you?" he managed.
"People who aren't good at... people things." You clutched your book. "I have really bad social anxiety. Going out is hard. But I need books, and the library is always crowded, and online shopping feels impersonal." You looked at him. "Coming here is manageable. You're patient. You don't make me feel weird for being quiet."
"You're not weird."
"Most people think I am."
"Most people are idiots."
You laughed—actually laughed—and the sound was so unexpected and lovely that Jason wanted to record it.
"Thank you," you said. "For that. And for the recommendation."
"Anytime."
Two Weeks Later
You started staying longer.
Not talking, exactly, but existing in the same space as Jason. You'd buy your book, then sit in the reading corner for thirty minutes, an hour, sometimes two.
Jason would work on inventory, help other customers, and try very hard not to stare at you curled up in the armchair like you belonged there.
"You could sit with them," Roy suggested during another visit.
"They're reading."
"So read near them. It's called parallel play. Very soothing for introverted people."
"How do you know about parallel play?"
"I have Google and concerns about your social life."
Jason considered this. Then, feeling ridiculous, he grabbed a book and sat in the chair across from you.
You looked up, surprised.
"Is this okay?" Jason asked. "I can move if you want to be alone."
"No, it's..." You smiled shyly. "It's nice. Having company without having to... perform."
"Yeah. I get that."
You went back to reading. Jason opened his book. You sat in comfortable silence for an hour.
It became a routine.
You'd come in, buy a book, sit and read. Jason would eventually join you. You'd exist in the same space, peaceful and quiet, occasionally exchanging a comment about what you were reading but mostly just... being.
It was the best part of Jason's week.
One Month Later
"I brought tea," you said one Thursday, holding up a thermos. "I made too much. Do you want some?"
"You brought me tea?"
"Well, I brought tea. I'm offering to share it. If you want. You don't have to." You were already second-guessing yourself. "Sorry, that's weird—"
"It's not weird. I'd love some tea. Thank you."
You poured him a cup in the extra mug you'd brought, and Jason tried not to read too much into the fact that you'd planned this. Brought an extra mug. Thought about him enough to share.
"It's chamomile," you said. "I know it's kind of boring—"
"It's perfect."
You both sat in your usual chairs, drinking tea, reading in comfortable silence.
"Can I tell you something?" you asked after a while.
"Sure."
"This is my favorite part of the week. Coming here. Reading with you. It's the only time I feel... normal. Like I'm not broken for being quiet."
"You're not broken."
"I know. Logically, I know. But sometimes it feels like I am. Like everyone else got a manual on how to be social and I missed that day." You looked at your tea. "My therapist says I need to work on it, but the thought of going to social events or trying to make friends makes me want to throw up."
"So don't."
You looked up. "What?"
"Don't force yourself to be someone you're not. If you're introverted, be introverted. If you need quiet, take quiet. The world's loud enough already. Someone should get to be peaceful."
"That's... really validating, actually."
"I'm serious. You come here, you read, you exist exactly as you are. That's not broken. That's just different."
"Do you really think that?"
"I know that. I've seen every kind of person in this city. The loud ones aren't better than the quiet ones. They're just louder."
You smiled, and this time it reached your eyes. "Thank you. For understanding."
"Thank you for bringing tea."
"I'll bring it every week if you want."
"I want."
Two Months Later
You still came twice a week. You still brought tea. You still sat and read with Jason in comfortable silence.
But you also started talking more.
Small things at first. Comments about your books. Observations about the weather. Gradually, carefully, you opened up.
You told him about your job—data entry, remote, perfect for someone who didn't like offices. About your apartment, small and cozy, full of books and plants. About your cat, Mr. Darcy, who was an asshole but you loved him anyway.
Jason told you about growing up in Crime Alley. About loving books because they were an escape. About opening the store because the neighborhood needed something good.
He didn't tell you about being Red Hood. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
He liked being just Jason with you. The bookstore owner. The guy you drank tea with twice a week.
"Can I ask you something personal?" you said one evening, after the store had officially closed but you were still there.
"Sure."
"Do you ever get lonely? Running this place by yourself?"
Jason thought about it. "Yeah. Sometimes. But then I remember why I'm doing it. This neighborhood needs places like this. Quiet places. Safe places."
"You're really good at creating safe spaces."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. This whole store feels like a hug." You blushed. "Sorry, that's weird—"
"It's not weird. That's actually the nicest thing anyone's ever said about this place."
"I mean it. Coming here feels like coming home. You make it easy to exist."
Jason's heart was doing that stupid thing again. "You make it easy to exist too."
You looked at him, really looked at him, and something shifted in the air between you.
"Jason?" you said quietly.
"Yeah?"
"Would it be okay if I—can I hug you?"
"You want to hug me?"
"You look like you could use one. And I—I'd like to. If that's okay."
"Yeah. That's okay."
You stood up, crossed the space between your chairs, and carefully wrapped your arms around him.
Jason hugged you back, and you were warm and soft and you smelled like tea and old books, and he thought this might be the best moment of his entire life.
"Thank you," you whispered.
"For what?"
"For being patient with me. For making this place. For letting me be quiet without making me feel bad about it."
"You don't have to thank me for basic decency."
"It's not basic. Most people don't get it. But you do." You pulled back slightly to look at him. "I really like you, Jason."
"I really like you too."
"Even though I'm awkward and weird and can barely handle social situations?"
"Especially because of that. You're genuine. You're kind. You're exactly yourself, unapologetically." He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. "That's not weird. That's brave."
"I don't feel brave."
"You leave your house twice a week despite anxiety. You talk to me even though talking is hard. You exist in a world that's not built for quiet people and you do it anyway. That's brave."
Your eyes were shining. "Can I kiss you?"
"Please."
You kissed him, soft and careful, and Jason thought that this—this quiet moment in a bookstore in Crime Alley with the most introverted person he'd ever met—was worth everything.
When you pulled back, you were smiling. "I've wanted to do that for weeks."
"Me too. I just didn't know if you... if I..."
"We're both disasters at this, aren't we?"
"Completely."
"Good. I prefer it that way." You settled back into your chair, pulling your book into your lap. "Can we just... keep sitting here? Reading?"
"For as long as you want."
"Forever might be too long."
"Forever sounds perfect."
Six Months Later
You'd moved some of your books into the store's back room.
It had happened gradually. You'd leave one book, then two, then a whole shelf's worth. Eventually, you'd brought a blanket, a mug that lived in the kitchen, slippers that stayed by Jason's reading chair.
You hadn't officially moved in. You still had your apartment. But you were there more often than not, existing in Jason's space like you'd always belonged there.
"I need to tell you something," Jason said one evening.
You looked up from your book. "Okay."
"It's... big. And you might hate me for not telling you sooner."
"I won't hate you."
"You might."
"Jason." You set down your book. "Whatever it is, just tell me."
"I'm Red Hood."
You blinked. "I know."
"You—what?"
"I've known for a while. A couple months, maybe?"
"How?"
"You have the same voice. Same mannerisms. Same way of moving." You smiled. "Plus, you're both obsessed with protecting Crime Alley, and the timing of when you 'step out' always matches Red Hood sightings."
"And you're not... scared? Upset?"
"Why would I be scared? You're you. The suit doesn't change that." You stood up, crossing to him. "And I'm not upset you didn't tell me. I figured you'd tell me when you were ready."
"You're amazing."
"I'm patient. There's a difference."
Jason pulled you into his lap, and you settled there like you belonged. "I love you. I should have said it weeks ago, but I was scared—"
"I love you too." You kissed him softly. "I have for a while."
"Even though I'm a vigilante?"
"Even though. Especially though." You rested your forehead against his. "You protect people like me. People who can't protect themselves. How could I not love that?"
"People like you are the reason I do this."
"That's really romantic."
"I have my moments."
You kissed him again, and Jason thought about how far you'd both come. The quiet reader who could barely speak above a whisper. The bookstore owner with a violent alter ego.
You'd built something together in the quiet spaces. Something real and gentle and perfect.
"Hey," you said.
"Yeah?"
"Thank you for making the world a little quieter. A little safer. For people like me."
"Thank you for existing exactly as you are."
"Even when I'm too quiet?"
"Especially when you're quiet. The world needs more quiet people. More gentle people. More people like you."
You smiled, settling against his chest. "Read to me?"
"What do you want to hear?"
"Anything. I just like your voice."
So Jason read to you, and you listened, and outside Crime Alley went about its noisy, chaotic business.
But inside the bookstore, there was peace.
There was safety.
There was love.
Quiet and gentle and perfect.
You eventually did move in officially, though it was hard to tell when it happened since you'd been gradually taking over Jason's space for months.
Mr. Darcy the cat also moved in and immediately claimed Jason's favorite chair.
You still came to the bookstore every Tuesday and Thursday, even though you lived there now. Some routines were too important to break.
Jason proposed with a first edition of your favorite book and a handwritten note inside that said: "You make the world quieter. Marry me?"
You said yes by nodding, too emotional to speak.
The wedding was small. Just Roy, Jason's family, and a handful of close friends. You barely spoke during the reception, but you smiled the entire time.
Your vows were three sentences long, spoken so quietly Jason had to lean in to hear them:
"You make me feel safe. You make me feel understood. You make me feel loved."
Jason's vows were longer, but they boiled down to the same thing:
"You taught me that quiet is powerful. That gentle is strong. That love doesn't have to be loud to be real."
And it was real.
So, so real.
In all the quiet, gentle, perfect ways that mattered.
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Hey! I love your works! Could I request Jason x reader with platonic Damian? For the scene I imagine reader taking Damian to do normal kid stuff and Jason tagging along realizing his brother IS still just a kid.
Thank you!
I love Damian like a son sometimes. He needs to be a kid and whimsical and fun. Anyways, thank you for this lovely request. I hope you like it!
Kandy's Writing Challenge
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“The swingset?” Jason asks you incredulously. Damian kicks a rock on the sidewalk beside you.
You nod eagerly, “Yeah, just for a little bit. You can sit and read while Damian and I go play.”
“While you and Damian play?” his brows raise even higher.
You shove Jason’s shoulder at his tone as you laugh, “Yes, Jason Todd. I am going to steal your baby brother so that someone will swing with me.”
He huffs softly, “I’d swing with you.”
“I don’t want to swing with you,” you tease, “I want to swing with Damian.”
“Jeez,” He huffs before kissing you on the cheek, “I’ll sit and read then.”
“Great!” you cheer before your hand presses lightly to Damain’s shoulder so you can steer him towards the playground. Jason watches in curiosity as you both walk. He thought Damian would be dragging his feet a lot more.
He finally moves over to one of the benches on the walk near the playground, splitting his book open as he listens to you laugh at the swings. He shakes his head, smiling at your joy as he settles.
Five minutes in, Jason pauses in reading, not lifting his head, just listening. A cackle echoes across the playground. Kids were playing, and it could be any of them. However, Jason knows that cackle and the crackle is followed by your own laughter as you shout Higher babe!
Jason finally looks up to spot you and Damain. You're not in a swing yourself, but Damian is, to Jason's surprise, and swinging very high. You cheer as he swings forward, and when he comes back down, you're there to push him higher. Jason watches as the chains of the swing go lax at Damian's height, his laughter following before his swing back.
The book is shut and forgotten as he watches Damian, Robin, scream with laughter on the swingset. Damian laughs with each height of the swing. Jason supposes it's like the grapples when they’re on patrol, the brief moment where the line is loose and nothing is holding you up. It was usually followed by a tough landing, a roll or kick to some crook's stomach. The swingset held no such faults, just the moment of weightlessness.
You hand hooks on one of the chains, pulling slightly before releasing, slowing Damian slightly. Drag your feet, you instruct Damian, and soon his swing slows to a standstill. You're both grinning like fools as you leave the swings, giving them to the next few kids waiting.
“I think ice cream for dinner,” Jason hears you say as you both walk back over to him, “We won’t tell Bruce if you won't.”
“Todd,” Damian smiles, smiles at Jason, “Why did you never tell me how fun swings were?”
“Didn’t think you cared,” Jason admits guiltily because Damian was the heir to the demon head, son of Batman. He stares at him for a minute, and it’s almost like a gut punch. Damian was also a kid. It was something you always told Jason when he was being a little harsh. Jason clears his throat, “Ice cream?”
Your hand wiggles, and Jason takes it, standing up, “I saw a truck on our walk in. We can hit it on the way back to the car. You know what skipping is, Dami?”
Damian gives you a disgruntled look, but it doesn’t have the same heat as normal. “Yes, I know what skipping is.”
“Okayyy, do you know how to skip?” you reword.
Damian frowns a moment before he grumbles, “No.”
You seem far too excited as you let go of Jason's hand. “Let me teach you, bub.”
So Jason watches you teach Damian how to skip, something Jason learned in grade school. He silently beats himself up. The kid who leaped off of rooftops every night, the one who saved lives and complained about everyone being idiots, was being taught how to skip.
Jason looks at you with newfound gratitude. You always saw more than he thought, and he's not sure Damian would get the childhood he deserved from a family of vigilantes with beat pasts. No, your whimsical civilian ideas were much better
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