Hii my name is Iris!! I am an on and off fanfiction writer-my previous blog is @hyperfixationstati0n where i wrote for Spencer Reid, Billy the Kid (Tom Blythâs version), and quite a few hunger games characters. I was super consistent for awhile but then sort of fell out of love with it and I wasnât having fun anymore.
HoweverâŚthe Superman/David Corenswet worms have infected my brainâŚthe urges are strong. Iâd love some ideas or suggestions on what to write for clark (and/or characters from Challengers!) Pretty much no limits, iâm open to everything :) even just to chat!
Hope to talk to some people soon-I have like one friend irl whoâs seen Superman and I need more people to chat about it with
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Okay, okay, but instead of Bruce being oblivious to everyoneâs relationship and not knowing his children are dating, like everyone says, he actually knows before they do
He catches a smile thatâs a tad too fond, and heâs like âoh, theyâre dating,â and when they announce it a few months later, Bruce is unsurprised cause he labeled them as dating forever ago in his database
He doesnât realize that some relationships are secret and being kept from him, because he naturally finds those things out. He is the worldâs greatest detective after all. Any microexpression made in his presence has been analyzed and dissected easily
One of the kids thinks theyâre hiding their relationship so well, but Bruce already knows how long theyâve been dating and where their first date was (cause they used his card to pay for everything)
He doesnât say anything because⌠well, why would he? As long as there isnât too much interference with their vigilante life, most of his children are grown adults and can do what they want.
Bruce is only oblivious to his own relationships. Or maybe, he simply chooses to ignore the obvious signs and act oblivious, simply because he believes itâs a better solution
If thereâs someone who likes him, he knows it. Of course, he does; heâs been flirted with and hit on his entire life.
But if someone likes him and he also likes them back, then he suddenly can no longer use that big brain of his to tell what the other person is actually feeling
He truly believes he wouldnât be able to give the other person the kind of love and attention they deserve while he lives his double life, even if this person was also a hero and had their own double life
Itâs illogical, so heâll pretend that he has no idea the object of his attraction also seems to be attracted to him, and heâll keep them at arm's length. Itâs the best he can do for them
Sooner or later, theyâll come to understand that he is nowhere near the wonderful, caring, compassionate, and good person some people see him as. Heâs got darkness in him. Heâs a monster that is barely being contained by his crusade to make his city a better place
Imagine surprising Clark by shaving your bush into the shape of a heart.
Like, he gets home after a long day at the Daily Planet; he's exhausted, and all he wants is for you to suffocate him with your thighs and pussy for at least an hour. Multiple hours if he had his way.
Of course, you don't deny him; his puppy eyes are impossible to resist, but when you finally tear off your panties, he's met withâŚ
A heart.
Heâs met with a heart.
Yeah, he audibly whimpers. Like full-on whines. He also might've just cummed a little. Ignore the stain, please. If he wasn't so pussywhipped, he'd be embarrassed.
âSo, uhââ he gulped. ââwatcha got going on there?â
You giggled, more like cackled, at his awestruck demeanor. âDo you like it? I did it just for you.â You pointedly wiggled your hips, and for a moment he swore he saw heaven.
This was unfair. You sprawled out on his bed, completely bare, and with a fucking heart between your legs. How was he supposed to survive?
Superman, Kal-El, the last son of Krypton, defeated by his girlfriend shaving her bush into a heart.
âThank you, Universe, for blessing me with this gift of a woman.â He bowed his head in silent prayer, muttering the words beneath his breath.
âAre you seriously praying?â you snickered.
âIâm saying grace.â
âAmen.â He gave one final bow of his head, then leaped forward, burying himself between your thighs. Where he was meant to be.
hey guys iâm a littlen drunk right now and i jaunts wanted you for knwtjag even though o only posted on here for a short amount of time it was fun and it weirdly saved my life so thank you to anyone who read my fics
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while not abnormal, it was strange having jason out so long. you've managed to will yourself to perform menial tasks to pass the time, laundry, picking up your boyfriendâs books, sharpening his knives.
anything to fight the urge to be that girlfriend. in actuality, you're not, and you trust JASON TODD more than anyone.
you simplyâŚmiss him. in a different way than when he's out on patrol. no, tonightâwhile he's out with his friendsâyou selfishly miss him more than when his life's on the line. because at least then, heâs working. serving a purpose. and you can't really fault that.
but drinks with roy and dick? thatâs leisure. thatâs laughter and warmth and something you selfishly crave as much as you can. you try not to stare at your phone. somehow successful. but the moment you hear the front door open and the soft shuffle of boots against hardwood, you're practically at attention.
he stumbles a littleâjust a littleâand kicks the door shut behind him. hoodie down, jacket open, trademark black tee, cheeks absolutely flushed. his eyes are trained on you, soft and glossy.
âhi, sweetheart.â he says, voice a little too loud for the quiet apartment. âmiss me?â
you blink at him from the couch, blanket still pulled over your lap. âyouâre drunk.â
he grins, the corners of his eyes wrinkling. âlittle bit.â
you tilt your head, watching him, skeptical. âyou drove?â
ânope,â he says, popping the âpâ as he drops his keys in the bowl by the door. âdick called us a ride. heâs annoying like that.â
âresponsible, you mean.â
jason points to you, swaying just a bit. âthat too.â
he trudges toward you with all the grace of a man whoâs fought off armed gangs but now canât quite coordinate his feet. the couch dips and groans when he crashes beside you. he immediately flops sideways into your lap with a dramatic groan, stifled by your sweatshirt and blanket.
âugh. my girl.â he mumbles, face smooshed against your thigh. âmissed you.â
you fight the smile curling at your lips, running a hand through his hair. âyou smell like cheap whiskey, todd.â
âit was expensive whiskey.â he says into your leg, offended.
you hum, fingers dragging gently along his scalp. âyou hungry?â
ânah. full of street vendor shitâbuncha bad decisions.â
you laugh quietly, smoothing your thumb over the little scar near his temple. âyou good?â
he rolls onto his back, head still pillowed by your thighs, blinking up at you like you hung the stars, âmâokay. just tired. and maybe a little tipsy...and definitely in love with you.â
your breath catches, eyes softening. he's too good at thisâreally. he says it so casually, so sweetly, it knocks the wind right out of your chest.
ââŚyeah?â you ask softly.
âmhm,â he coos, eyes fluttering shut. âlove you so much itâs stupid.â
writer's note .âď¸ ÝË you mfs loved drunk!reader and jason so ofc i had to give you drunk!jason. he's hot and i missed writing for him!! i'm glad to be back from my breakâi hope you like my first little writing back! if you doâconsider reblogging and/or commenting <3
and itâs not that sheâs cruel or hateful, sheâs just navigating some issues with control and disorganized attachment. sheâs hot and coldâsometimes at the same time. sheâs draws him in just to feel suffocated. she presses for signs of weakness in their relationship like theyâre bruises.
jason, for all his flaws, does love deeply. truly. earnestly. he broods, he definitely has issues with trust, and tends to not be able to let goâhe needs to talk things out, seriouslyâbut heâs perceptive. he can see echos of himself in her, in ways. she challenges him, pushes him, brings him to his wits endâŚbut she also loves him like so right. he feels it in his bones.
he knows she need her space from time to time. that she operates best when given ample opportunity to examine her own mind and emotions. heâs fine with thatâhe enjoys the restraint she exhibits in that way, making time for herself. he loves her, and he never wants her to feel or get lost in the dynamic she shares with him.
say sheâs particularly stressed. a mix of everything hitting all at once. all she wants is time to indulge in herself and her own mindâdivulge into her own activities, maybe see friends she hasnât spent time with in a while, or maybe catch a movie aloneâsomething thatâs just about her, what she needs. so she brings it up to jason, âbabe? can you find something to do for the evening? i need some time.â
and itâs as simple as that. jason respects when sheâs up front.
onlyâsheâs not always up front. sometimes she tries too hard to mold herself into what she assumes he wants or needs. maybe he had a bad patrol week, got hurt, and is doing that silent sulking only he can do so well around the apartment. she doesnât voice much, but sheâs there. ignoring her own issues and feelings in hopes heâll feel better. trying to play the role of perfectânot that jason ever asked. and besides, thatâs not how it worksâshe gets too overwhelmedâitâs just not sustainable.
it always reaches a breaking point. something boils over. a snap. sheâs fine and gentle until sheâs not. she suddenly feels like sheâs been asked too much ofâand thereâs a guilt with that feeling as well. the nagging idea of, âhe deserves peace. be that for himâ.
but despite the guilt, the feeling remains, and she feels a need to test and scrutinize the relationship. to make problems before he can notice she feels like one.
like when he comes home bloodied from patrol and sheâs had a day from hell. her boss was a condescending prick, her friend canceled plans last minute, and sheâs running on three hours of sleepâbut jasonâs lip is split and thereâs that look in his eyes that means someone died tonight.
so she swallows it. make him tea, starts his shower, lets him hold her while he stares at the ceiling processing whatever fresh trauma gotham served up.
three days of this. three days of being what he needs while her own shit festers.
then he has the audacity to stare at her. notice her. say, âyou seem off lately.â
âoff?â her voice could cut glass.
âyeah, distant. like youâre not really here.â
she slams her coffee mug down hard enough that the counter echos, ânot here? iâve been nowhere but here, jason. wiping blood off your face, pretending i donât have my own problems because, god forbid, you have to deal with anything that isnât your own guilty conscience.â
âbaby, thatâs notââ
âno, shut up. you want to know whatâs off? whatâs off is that iâm so tired of shrinking myself into whatever shape you need that i canât even remember what i actually feel anymore. itâs all just you.â
his jaw ticks. the vein that appears when heâs fighting his temper mares his forehead, ânobody asked you to do that. thatâs all you.â
âdidnât they? because every time i even think to bring up my own shit, suddenly thereâs some new crisis. some new reason why your problems are bigger and more important than mine.â
âthatâs not fair.â
âfair?â she laughs, and itâs ugly. mean, âyou wanna talk about fair? fair would be dating someone who doesnât treat me like an emotional support system with tits.â
and thatâs when jasonâs patience snaps. because he can take a lotâhas taken worse than she could ever dish outâbut that particular accusation hits every insecurity he has about being too much, too broken, too damaged, and too dependent for anyone to love.
âyou know what? fuck this.â heâs off the couch, grabbing his jacket, eyes glaring into her own, âyou want space so goddamn bad? have all the space you want.â
âoh, so now youâre leaving? becauseâŚwhat? iâm right? perfect. very mature, jason.â
âwhat do you want from me?â he rounds on her, shadowing her, and thereâs something dangerous in his voice now, âyou snap, pick a fight, tear me apart, then get mad when i donât stick around for more. itâs fuckinâ exhausting.â
âi want you to notice before i have to snapâand stop running away the second iâm not perfect!â
he tugs at his hair, eyes rolling, legs moving toward the door, âyou think this is me running? baby, when i run, youâll know it.â
the apartment door slams hard enough to rattle the windows.
heâs gone for two days. doesnât answer texts, doesnât come home. her disorganized attachment goes into overdriveâhalf convinced heâs never coming back, half planning what cruel thing she can say if he does.
she gets through it the way she always doesâdetachment. short responses to everyone, cutting remarks that leave people emotionally bleeding. her coworker with no sense makes a joke about her hair, and she smiles sweetly just to ask how his divorce is going. a guy at the coffee shop tries to buy her drink and chat her up, and she looks him up and down like heâs something rancid she stepped in.
because if jasonâs not coming back, sheâll be in hellâand everyone else can go to hell too.
except he does come back. walks in like nothing happened while sheâs aggressively reorganizing her (their) bookshelf.
âwe need to talk.â he says, tone like heâs trying to diffuse a bomb.
she doesnât even look at him, âdo we? or are you just here to grab more of your shit before you disappear again?â
âi wasnât disappearing. i was thinking.â
âhow very enlightened of you.â
âjesus christ, would you justââ he runs a hand through his hair, âlook, i get it, okay? youâre pissed. you can be pissed. but we canât keep doing this.â
now she turns around, âdoing what?â
âthis thing where we hurt each other just to see if the other person will stay.â
she wants to argue, but heâs right and they both know it. so instead she deflects, âmaybe some of us are just too much for other people to handle.â
âmaybe. but iâm still here.â
âfor now.â
âno, not for now. period.â he steps closer, âyou think youâre the first person to try to push me away? sweetheart, iâve been rejected by everyone iâve ever cared about. if i was going to leave because youâre difficult, i wouldâve been gone after the first week.â
âiâm not difficult, iâm complexââ
âyouâre mean as fuck when youâre scared.â his voice is matter-of-fact, âyou go for the jugular. you say things specifically designed to make people give up on you. and you know what? sometimes it works.â
her throat feels tight, âeven with you?â
âno. not with me.â he cups her face, forces her to look at the broken man that loves her, âiâve been dead, baby. iâve been tortured, betrayed, abandoned, replaced. you think a few nasty words are gonna break me?â
the thing about jason is he doesnât just love her despite the mean streakâhe loves her because of it. because he knows what itâs like to be sharp edges and defense mechanisms. because when she bares her teeth, he doesnât just see a snarlâhe sees the hurt underneath.
âyou know what your problem is?â she says later, when theyâre both calmer, sitting on opposite ends of the couch like fighters in neutral corners.
âenlighten me.â
âyou think you deserve to be treated like shit. so when iâm awful to you, part of you thinks itâs justified.â
heâs quiet for a long moment, then shrugs, âmaybe.â
âand you know what my problem is?â
âtell me.â
âi think everyoneâs going to leave eventually. so i try to control when and how, even if it means burning everything down myself.â
âand howâs that working out for you?â
she gestures between them both, âjuryâs still out.â
but hereâs the thing about loving jason toddâhe doesnât stay because itâs easy. he stays because sheâs worth it. even when sheâs testing every boundary, pushing every button, daring him to prove her right about being unlovable.
especially then.
because jason knows something about being too much for people. and heâs decidedâfuck those people. heâd rather have all of herâsharp edges, and mean comments, and midnight fightsâthan some watered-down version that fits into other peopleâs idea of comfort. she fits his.
âcome here.â his voice is low, gentle in his own way.
âwhy?â
âbecause i love you when youâre mean. i love you when youâre scared. i love you when youâre picking fights just to see if iâll stick around.â he holds out his arms, âand âcause iâm tired of sitting on opposite sides of the couch like weâre enemies. câmere baby.â
she doesnât take his embrace immediately. because this is the part that scares her mostânot the fighting, but the making up. the moment when he proves, once again, that sheâs not too much, that he can handle all of her.
âwhat if iâm always like this?â she huffs, burying her face into his side.
âthen youâre always like this.â he shrugs, âi knew what i was signing up for.â
âiâm serious, jason. what if i never get better at this? what if iâm always going to be the girlfriend who says terrible things when sheâs scared?â
âthen i guess iâll always be the boyfriend who leaves for two days instead of dealing with his feelings.â he pulls her closer, his hand at her waist. âweâre both fucked up, baby. might as well be fucked up together.â
and finallyâfinallyâhe feels her relax.ââââââââââââââââ
a/n: this is my first time really giving reader a set personality or personal issueâŚdo we hate it? also trying something a bit different for how i structure thought drabblesâidk if i like it. i may delete this LMAO, tbh i just wrote it mostly for personal comfort. but shoutout the mean!gfâs of the world and our disorganized attachment. we will prevail. love is not always scary or meant to be analyzed like a true crime case. speaking from experience.
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heâs not the kind to be a performative girl dad. heâs not the dad who coddles her purely based on gender, hell no. he respects her, because sheâs a person. one he helped make. one heâd level the earth for. jason is not the dad who does it for show. what he does do it forâher, and her mom. the people he loves. the girls who matter.
heâs the kind of dad that learns, actually and practically. he does her hair with the practiced precision of a man who uses a gun more than hair ties, but it always comes out perfect. jason todd is not the kind of man that would half-ass his own kidsâ hair. he learns how to speak softer, even when heâs mad. even when she ruins his last good pair of gloves with glue and stickers. when she draws on his case files. sticks smiley face stickers on his helmet. uses his body like a jungle gym when heâs sore from patrol. he never stops her. not once.
she makes him softer, but never weak. justâŚclearer. sharper in the ways that matter. more deliberate with his time. with his words. with his hands.
he doesnât shout unless somethingâs on fire. he doesnât punish emotion, hers or his. when she loses it in the cereal aisle, he doesnât walk away. he kneels. breathes with her. says, âhey, weâll figure it out.â until they do.Â
he knows how to sit on the floor with her, knees cracking and all, and listen to her talk about things he doesnât fully understandâschoolyard drama, cartoons about friendship, the difference between mermaids, naiads, and sirens.Â
he listens like itâs gospel, because itâs her voice saying it, so it is. because sheâs excited to tell him. because he never wants to be the reason she stops sharing.
jason learns how to handle being scared again. not the kind of fear he knowsâbullets or shadows or defeatâbut the kind that creeps in quietly when she coughs too hard, or when she doesnât answer right away, or when she starts growing up and away from him.
he learns that fatherhood isnât about protecting her from everything, itâs just about showing up, over and over, even when heâs tired or guilty or convinced heâll fail.
heâs not overly sentimental, but he keeps every note she leaves in his nightstand drawer. he lets her doodle in the margins of his favorite books, right beside her motherâs inscriptions and notes. heâs not sappy, but he is loving. always.
jason doesnât do bedtime stories in the traditional sense. he tells her toned-down versions of fairy tales with his own twists, where the princess saves herself and her best friend is a motorcycle, and there are no love interests aside from a man and woman eerily similar to him and her mother.
he learns how to apologize, tooâwhen heâs too short with her, when his temper flares and herâs does too, when he sees a flash of the old him in her stubborn little frown. he says sorry and he means it, because he never wants her to grow up thinking love comes with sharp edges.
heâs not soft. but for her, he is safe. secure.
and thatâs better.
Ë ŕŁŞ âš writer's note | this was a request and i just had to. so here, my thoughts on girl dad!jason. i love him. most of this is based off of how he was as robin (staunch based feminist jaybin save us) !!
if you liked this lmk with a reblog and/or comment <3
thinking about jason todd finally becoming a family man. a thing he never truly imagined for himself, never let himself imagine. suddenly heâs got a kid on the way and his fuckinâ motorcycle and your ancient ass car arenât going to cut it. so now heâs out with you, shopping for the most father-like car you two can find. heâs not used to safe vehicles, even in his own youth.
he's always been a man that subscribed to speed, to thrill, to scraping by with just a cocky smirk and a devil may care attitude that expertly shields the far softer crux of himself. a safe carâone with good mileage and enough cup holdersâwasnât something heâd ever imagined himself shopping for. but here he is, standing next to you in a dealership lot, staring at a lineup of SUVs and sedans with an expression thatâs somewhere between disbelief and resignation.
âi feel like iâm betraying myself just by being here.â he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck, eyes flitting over the sensible, family-friendly options. âi mean, a fuckinâ minivan, babe? this is what my life has come to?â
you canât help but laugh, hooking your arm through his and leaning into his side. âno one said we had to get a minivan, jay. butâŚmaybe something with four doorsâand airbags that actually work.â
âyouâre really cutting into my image here.â he teases, though his hand falls to rest on your back, steady and warm. thereâs a quiet shift in his tone when he adds, âbut i guess iâm not just buying for me anymore, huh?â
he glances at you then, at the way youâre glowing in a way that has nothing to do with the afternoon sun overhead. his hand lingers on your back, sliding down to your hip as his lips twitch into something soft. itâs a look that says more than he ever could out loudâthat heâs trying, that he wants to be the man you need him to be. for you. for the baby. for this whole new life heâs never let himself dream of, but now wants so desperately to protect.
you squeeze his arm. âwell, you know what they say. nothingâs cooler than being a parent.â
âoh, sure.â he snorts. âbecause every kid wants to say their old man drives aâŚwhat is this, a fuckinâ toyota rav4?â
you laugh again, and itâs the kind of sound that grounds him, makes all the self-doubt and second-guessing fade into something bearable, burdens vanquished. he watches you as you step toward one of the cars, peering through the window at the interior.
âthis oneâs not so bad!â you say over your shoulder. âlooks like it could handle groceries, strollers, maybe even a car seatâŚor two.â
he follows you, resting his arms on top of the door as he leans in to inspect it with you. âyouâre really selling me on this whole âdadâ thing, you know that?â
you glance at him, your smile softening. âyouâre gonna be really good at it, jay. better than you think.â
he doesnât say anything at first, just looks at you with those steady, blue-green eyes of his. and then, after a second, he nods, jaw tightening like heâs trying to swallow back something thick and emotional.
âyeah,â he agrees quietly. âmaybe i will be.â
and for the first time, it all feels realânot just a looming, abstract idea but something solid and tangible. a life, a family, a future he never thought he could have.
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