⭑ollie

he’s also the type of man to bring you flowers just because. at first it really is sweet. he brings them over on every date. then every time he makes an excuse to see you, he’s got flowers tucked away somewhere on his person even when you told him he didn’t have to bring it on every outing.

sometimes it’s just flowers he picks up on his way to get you, intricately picked and tied with a stem, like he really took his time choosing them. other times, it’s when he picks you up from work with a massive bouquet of snapdragons cause you said you liked them once. he’ll wait outside patiently, one hand in his pocket and the other gripping the flowers, biting the inside of cheek until you come outside. it’s always to see the smile on your face and the hint of surprise even when you knew it was coming.

he lives for that look.

when you call him drunk for the first time, having a friend phone him for you at a party you don’t even want to go to, even then he brought a dozen roses. arriving to pick you up in under five minutes with a thin layer of sweat over his brow. he even apologized while he held your hair back when you threw up and continued while you drifted off asleep after he tucked you in.

“—seriously though, i would’ve brought a bigger bouquet but the store was closing and it was all they had so i just put the good flowers from the remaining together and—”

when you woke up in the morning with the flowers in a mason jar because all of the other vases you had were currently being used, you tried to tell him they were getting to be too much. the man claimed nonsense and continuing softly singing whatever he was while he cooked breakfast waiting for you to wake. then, he danced with you in the kitchen to distract you. when he spun you and you groaned all groggy and hungover, he kept you close to his chest instead, humming a soft and soothing tune. he rocks the two of you back and forth of your dingy kitchen, shifting from either leg until you melt right into him.

the music plays softly from the kitchen and he coos by your ear while he steadily dances you over to the couch with him, lyrics pouring from his love stricken lips. “she looks just like an angel.” tucking your head into the crook of his neck while you bask in his warmth. still humming the same tune as he softly sings, “—my friend said she’s all he needs to feel alive.”

it’s so easy to fall into him when he’s like this.

later in the week he thrifts you a dozen more vases that went with the decor of your house along with a couple extra trinkets he thought you’d like.

he keeps a photo of you from that morning in his wallet, tucked in his arms and mouth parted in sleep. he’s smiling with his head tilted just barely in the frame, though the focus is on you resting on his chest. next to it is a kiss you left when you saw it when pulled out his wallet, lipstick mark right on his cheek in the photo.

he actually got it laminated so your kiss never fades away.

when he slowly moves his life into your home from all the late nights he stays over, he insists on laying the rent and utilities just because he can. your name is on the lease but he doesn’t give a shit because he meant what he said when he told you what’s mine is yours.

he starts buying mundane things in pairs too because, “i couldn’t just buy one, they come in pairs, you can’t just split them up.”

he’s made any excuse to buy you things that remind him of you, and that meant a lot since he turned out to be more sentimental than you thought. jason would buy you pastries and chocolate with the cheesiest line like it’s “sweet like you.”

that’s how you knew i love you came in many forms with him.

at first he struggled with saying it so instead you see it in his actions. though the man is sentimental and the first time he says it and you repeat it right back, the hearts in his eyes expand and he slots your hand into his. jason never struggles to remind you after that time.

the love that he drowns you in is the only kind you’d want to receive, and that’s just the kind of man he is. and jason todd is that type of man to do acts of service for you solely because he is capable without ever being told to.

you hate washing the dishes? that’s okay with him! jason has no problem wiping them down and scrubbing them clean.

“you know the saying, if life is a loop of full of dirty dishes and laundry, all that means is it’s means a lifetime full of home cooked food and clean clothes.” humming gruffly while he scrubs, turning his head back to find you still staring and grin, “or something like that ma.”

and physical contact? he’s like velcro to your skin. while you cook, his head is tucked between your neck and your shoulder while he’s pressed against you back. occasionally touching your hand and stirring for you.

even after having a long night and getting in after you, he’ll wake up with you for work and watch you get ready for the day. he’s leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed and his hair disheveled. watching you with eager eyes as you do your skincare or dress yourself. it didn’t make you feel embarrassed because it wasn’t exactly lustful. it felt like he was burning the memory and ingraining you as the sole purpose of everything good in his life because that’s exactly what he’d tell you that you are.

or you could be sitting on the couch and watching television when jason decides it’s time to strike. just moments after coming home, he plops his full weight ontop of you and groans. you make a sound that resembled a cushion losing air but he just settles a leg between yours to take some weight off of you. he pulls your shirt up just enough for him to slot his head underneath and steal some of your warmth from your skin.

you complained that he’s gotta at least wash his face. told him he’s stretching the collar of your shirt out with his head when his hair pokes out to touch your chin. but slowly, you press a kiss against his lips, watching him deepen it before it gets sloppy and he starts to trail his way back down your neck. lower and lower before disappearing beneath the fabric. he groans cause you’ve got no bra on. when he rubs his face between your breasts and nuzzles until he’s comfortable, you gasp softly. the stubble on his chin rubbing against the sensitive skin, side to side until he stops to take a bite of the plush flesh.

you laugh when he settles. “did you just motorboat me?”

jason blows against your skin while he huffs and does it again to get you to squeal and shove him away just for him to grip onto you tighter.

“can’t a man just appreciate a work of art?”

a/n: idrk what this is but i love jason and he’s the cheesiest, loverboy to ever exist idc

based on the trend from twitter (I think I’m not on there lmao)