#layla.writing

— DICK GRAYSON

— JASON TODD

— TIM DRAKE

— DICK GRAYSON

— JASON TODD

— TIM DRAKE

— DICK GRAYSON

— JASON TODD

— TIM DRAKE

— DICK GRAYSON

( third screenshot is meant to say "if you even think of" not "if you even think os" .... )

— JASON TODD

— TIM DRAKE

— JASON TODD

The place was already quiet, and he wasn't surprised to find you had already gone to bed. He had gotten home nearly four hours later than he had planned, he never expected you to wait up so late.

He was sure you had tried though.

He made quick work of his gear and clothes as he made his way down the hall to the bedroom — helmet left too close to the edge of the counter, and the rest of his gear tossed on the back of the couch, the seat of a chair, left in the middle of the floor. He'd pick it up later, he only had the energy to think about one thing right now.

And maybe part of him wanted to hear you lecture him about the mess he made.

By the time he pushed the bedroom door open he had stripped down to his boxers and undershirt. He figured that was good enough to satisfy your 'no outside clothes in the bed' rule, and lowered himself onto the mattress next to you.

You were curled up on your side, knees tucked close to your body, your back towards his side of the bed, hands folded near you in that way he knew was going to make you complain about your wrists being sore in the morning.

It made him smile a bit as he tucked himself close to you, hand sliding across your hip and up until his palm pressed flat against your tummy, fingers spread out to pull you closer.

He wasn't trying to wake you up, but he wasn't exactly trying to keep you asleep either. And he wouldn’t deny the little flutter in his chest when you mumbled his name half asleep.

“Hey, baby” He answered against your temple, “I woke you up ?”

He knew the answer already, but you still tried to tell him you’d already been awake.

“How was patrol ?” You asked, eyes still closed.

Jason’s fingers pressed into your front a little harder at the question “Was shit, baby” He answered, head moving down to your neck, he pressed his lips against the warmth as he continued; “Nothin’ went right, nobody listened to a damn word I said. Got me all worked up, pretty girl.”

You only replied with a quiet hum, still awake but barely.

Jason’s hand moved lower, pushing up the hem of the t-shirt you were wearing – which he was pretty sure had been his at one point, before you decided to change that – and toying with the waist band of your panties.

“Jay …” You mumbled, halfheartedly pushing his hand away. It was nothing more than a slow brush of your fingers against his knuckles before your hand returned to its original position tucked under your chin.

“I know” He whispered, fingertips dipping under the fabric “I know you’re tired, baby. You don’t gotta do anythin’, just lemme have this, yeah ? That okay ?”

You took a moment to answer, long enough Jason thought you’d fallen asleep again, before giving him a small, sleepy “Mhm” and a slow nod.

It felt like the entire night had been lifted off his shoulders, finally something was going his way. His head lifted again to kiss your cheek, your temple, and then your cheek again before tucking his face back into the side of your neck. “Sweet baby, so good to me baby.”

He moved his hand up, pressing his middle and ring finger against your bottom lip. They parted without him having to ask. Your lips closed around them, giving slow sleepy sucks to his fingers.

“My sweet girl,” He cooed, rolling his hips in slow circles against your backside “My perfect girl”

His fingers pressed down against your tongue as you sucked and licked, drool pooling around them. His other hand made quick work pushing his boxers down, just enough to pull himself free, he was already hard, flushed tip already shiny with leaking precum.

He pressed the head where your thighs met and pulled his fingers from your mouth with a wet ‘pop’ that made his cock twitch against your skin. You mumbled something barely legible, but enough to let him know you were at least still awake when he spit covered fingers dipped into your underwear.

They slid between the folds a few times before his fingertips found your clit. You shifted, giving him a muffled, closed mouth whine.

“I know,” He whispered, a heavy breath brushing against your skin. His hips moved forwards, pushing himself between the fat of your thighs.

“Fuckin’ hell, baby” he groaned, rocking himself back and forth between your legs as his fingers rubbed over your folds and played with the bundle of nerves above them, flicking and pinching gently with his fingertips “Missed you s’ much. You’re the only thing left that’s right in this goddamned city”

His head came up again to press his lips against your cheek, holding them there as he fucked your thighs. More precum dribbled from the fat head of his cock, smearing against your skin, and making soft squelching sounds as he moved. His fingers moved faster across your warm cunt, until he got you wet enough to dip his middle finger inside. You only answered with dreamy whines and soft moans.

“Gonna steal you away from here one day” He mumbled, his free hand coming up behind your head to turn your face towards his. His mouth slotted against yours, tongue immediately making a home past your lips. “Gonna run away with you, no one’s ever gonna hear from us again. Get you all to myself, new life far away from this fuckin’ place. Wherever you wanna go, baby. That sound nice ?”

You slurred something he barely caught, and his mouth was on yours again. Sure he was just being dramatic, Jason would probably never be able to leave this gunmetal city. But the thought of it was enough, and he thought of it often.

“Need you, pretty girl” He whispered into your mouth. Jason had never been above begging for you. He did it as easy as breathing, especially when he was like this “That okay ? C’mon, use your words angel.”

“S’ okay” You answered, voice soft around the edges, heavy with that honey-warm dreaminess.

The way Jason’s chest flooded with warmth you have thought you just told him he was being handed everything he had ever wanted. Which, in some sort of way, he had been.

“Thank you, sweetheart” He pulled himself from between your thighs, a string of precum connected the tip to your warm skin. He could’ve cum just from the sight of that alone. “Oh, God, you’re so good for me. You’re perfect. Fuckin’ perfect.”

His hand slid between your legs, lifting it to bring it back over his own, bending it at the knee.

He didn’t bother pulling your underwear off all the way, just hooked his fingers into the fabric and pushed it to the side, holding it there as he lined himself up. He rubbed the thick length of his cock across the wet folds, covering it with your arousal before he lined himself up with your entrance.

Jason wasted no time pushing himself in, making soft shushing and cooing sounds against your temple as he pressed into you. He knew he wasn’t small, far from it. And he always tried to be careful with you, he’d be buried again before ever doing anything to hurt you.

“I know, angel” He whispered, pushing forwards one more time until he was bottomed out inside you. “You’re doing so good.”

His fingers found your clit again, rubbing soothing circles across it. It was nearly enough for him just feeling your walls flutter and squeeze around him. You relaxed enough eventually for him to give a few slow, steady rocks in and out of your warm hole.

“Jay –” You whined

“It’s okay.” He replied, hand moving to pull your leg up further on his before returning to your clit “You’re okay. Missed bein’ home. Missed bein’ home so much, doll.”

It didn’t take you too long before the knot in your tummy snapped, gummy walls squeezing around him as heat rushed through you, and stars lit up behind your eyelids. Your hips jerked against his as you gasped for air.

He slowed but didn’t stop as your hips and legs twitched from overstimulation. “Almost there, baby. Just a little longer, okay ? Can you hold on just a little longer, just a bit and then –”

He was cut off by a low moan, his own orgasm flooding through him. “Fuck, baby. Oh Fuck —” His cock twitched, coating the inside of your achy cunt with warm, thick cum. He didn’t pull out, not yet. He pressed himself deeper, settling inside you as he caught his breath.

His mouth found yours again, spilling praise after praise against your lips. Almost worshipful in the way he adored you so much.

And there was nothing new about it. The sex, anyways. He enjoyed it. He liked the closeness, the heat, the release that felt both physical and mental. And, of course, he liked that it felt good.

So he wasn’t sure why all of a sudden it felt like his chest was being crushed.

It all happened too fast. One second his eyes were fixed on your, watching, hands firm on your hips, his breath steady, synced with yours like for just a moment the two of you were one. And then his breath stuttered. His throat felt like something had wrapped around it and pulled tight. The air felt thick, sticking like he was choking on molasses.

He blinked hard, trying to wipe it away, but it did nothing to put the room back in place, it only continued to blur around the edges. Your sounds – the pretty whimpers, and soft, breathy gasps of his name – sounded distant, like the sound was traveling through water to get to his ears.

It sounded far away. Too far away. Too far.

No, no, no —

He tried to force himself out of it, tried to force himself to think his way back to reality, to figure out why this was happening.

You’re home.

He latched onto the thought, mind digging its claws into it.

Apartment. Bedroom. Bed.

He could feel the sheets under his back, the weight of you on top of him, the smell of the room. He went through it all. Everything he could see, hear, smell, feel. The whole bit. None of it seemed to help.

No blood. No bruises. All my limbs.

His eyes darted down to your body, a quick, – an almost tactical assessment. And you were fine. No signs anything was wrong with you. No sign you were in pain, or in danger. Nothing was wrong. If anything, you seemed to be enjoying yourself. Completely unaware of what was going on in his mind and body. No fault of yours, of course.

She’s okay.

You’re okay.

So why did he feel like this ?

Was it because he had you on top ? No. That couldn’t have been it. He had you ride him all the time. He liked it. Very quickly it had become one of his favorite positions. Laying back and watching you use him to make yourself feel good, grabbing your hips to fuck into you when you got too tired.

He’d never had an issue with it before. He loved it.

His grip on your hips tightened before he realized it, nails digging a little too hard into the skin, leaving behind shallow half-moon shaped indents in the soft flesh. The sting made you flinch, small and sharp.

“Stop –”

The word tore from his throat, felt like it was dragging glass along the muscle and tissue inside it. He pressed down, slowing the roll of your hips against his.

“I need you to stop –”

The panic in his voice, the way it shook and cut through everything else, had you scrambling off him in an instant. No hesitation, no question. Just moving, leaving cold where your weight and warmth had been.

Jason stayed where he was, laying flat on his back, wide eyes fixed on the ceiling. His chest rose and fell too fast, each breath caught on the way in and burned on the way out. His body felt wrong, like it wasn’t really his anymore.

The room felt off, like it had gotten smaller and smaller around him.

“Jay …” Your voice was careful now.

He felt the mattress shift next to him as you moved, felt you get closer before he actually saw your hand reaching out towards him. And something in his chest spiked, his body moving before his mind could.

His hand shot out, catching your wrist before you could reach him. Too tight, he hadn’t meant it to be.

“Don’t –” He gripped on you loosened, but he didn’t let go, still holding you away. “Please don’t touch me right now.”

The request came out rough, but not angry. He wasn’t angry, he was scared. And his body had a bad habit of mixing the two up.

Confusion flickered over your face, your brows creasing, but you didn’t argue, didn’t push at him. You lowered your hand, bringing it back to rest in your lap.

“Are you okay ? Did I do something ?”

Jason only shook his head, the motion small and quick, and you weren’t sure which of your questions he was answering. He didn’t elaborate.

He forced himself to sit upright, dragging his hand down his face before pushing his sweat damp hair back off his forehead. His skin felt too tight, and every touch felt like he was being stabbed. Everything in and around him felt wrong.

He shifted to the edge of the bed, planting his feet against the carpet. His chest was still tight, breaths still burned, the world still felt small. He didn’t understand it.

“I need –” He swallowed hard, “I’m just … gonna go shower. Real quick.”

He didn’t wait for a response before getting up.

The lock on the bathroom door clicked shut behind him, followed by the sound of the running water.

He stepped in the shower before it had time to warm up, letting it hit him cold.

It helped.

A little.

For a second.

He pressed his forehead against the tile wall, letting the water run down his face and back. His heart was still racing, everything still felt too wrong, and too loud. He felt like he was going to be sick.

“What the hell ?”

He didn’t move to grab the soap, didn’t wash his hair. He didn’t do anything but stand there.

You’re safe.

He knew that. There was no threat, no danger. Nothing was happening, to him or to you. So why did he feel like there was, why was his body reacting like he was in some sort of crisis ?

Why did it feel like the world had him pinned down, stripped bare, with no way to get away —

His chest squeezed again.

He forced himself to breathe in, held it until his lungs burned, and let it out.

Again

Again

Again.

He’d never admit how long it took him to even out his breathing, to force the panic into something quieter. Not gone, not by a longshot. But quieter.

He still didn’t have an answer when he shut the water off.

He dried himself off quickly, pulling on a pair of sweatpants, tying them low around his hips. When he left the bathroom, hair still dripping onto his forehead, the bed was empty. For a second that made the panic feel sharp in his chest again.

Then he heard the quiet sounds of movement, the faint click of ceramic. He followed the sound down the hall to the kitchen. He found you at the counter, your back to him, dressed in a pair of soft underwear and a bra. Your hair was messy, shoulders relaxed in a way that showed him you weren’t upset.

You were just waiting. Always waiting.

Jason stepped up behind you, arms sliding around your waist, pulling you back against him. His chin found your shoulder, taking its usual spot there.

You were making tea, and he could tell by the smell of it and the cup you were using that you were making it for him, not yourself. He watched your hands as you stirred honey into the cup, using that tiny spoon he always cracked jokes about. The one that looked like it belonged in a dollhouse, not a kitchen drawer.

You reached for the wooden salt jar next, stirring a pinch in with the same spoon. He remembered he cringed when you first showed him that. Now he can’t stand taking his tea any other way.

“‘M sorry …” He muttered against your cheek

Your free hand came up, fingers brushing against his jaw. It made his breath catch, softer this time. 

“No need to be sorry, Jaybie.” You assured him “Are you okay ?”

He shifted, tucking his face into the crook of your neck, pulling his shoulders in. A failed attempt to make himself smaller.

“Don’t know what happened” The admission made his mouth feel like it was full of sand and stones. “I’m sorry”

You didn’t rush to answer, letting the quiet linger comfortably as you finished his tea.

“It’s okay” You said gently, “You don’t need to know. Sometimes things just –”

“Don’t.” He didn’t mean to cut you off, and he didn’t mean to sound so snappy either. He forced himself to take a breath, forced his body to relax into yours before he tried again.

“I’m sorry. Just … Don’t do the feelings thing. I can’t –” He took another breath when he caught his tone again. “Just not right now.”

“Okay.” You nodded, “Habit.”

Apology.

Jason hummed against your skin.

Acceptance.

“Did you finish ?” He asked after a moment of quiet

“No.” You answered, no hesitation, no embarrassment or shame. Just a fact.

“But that’s okay.” You added, “I don’t need to finish every time”

Jason grunted against your skin, and that was enough to tell you that he did not agree with that statement.

“We can try again,” he suggested. But his tone was cautious, like he wasn’t quite sure.

And you picked up on that. Of course you did, it was how you were, how you’d always been.

You turned around in his arms, he raised his head to let you move, but his eyes didn’t quite meet yours once you faced him.

“Hey …” Your hands came up, holding either side of his face between your palms. You tilted his head up until his eyes were on yours. It took more effort than he’d like to admit to hold them there.

“We don’t have to” You continued, “We can. But only if you’re okay.”

He was quiet for a while. Checking in with himself, his teeth biting into the skin inside his cheek as he thought it over.

He felt better. A little. Not good, but better

But there was still that lingering feeling. Something biting under his skin. There was a quiet squeezing in his chest still that hadn’t fully gone away, like a memory only his body seemed to remember, that his mind couldn’t quite put a finger on.

“Maybe tomorrow ?” He whispered. He paused, letting out a soft, slow exhale. “Yeah … Yeah, maybe tomorrow.”

You smiled, bringing his face to yours to press a firm, gentle kiss against his cheek.

Jason stood by the front door a little longer than necessary, his helmet tucked in his arm, between his side and the crook of his elbow, and he just listened.

Until he heard it, the sound of running water from the bathroom. His entire face changed in a second. It should have been embarrassing how immediate it was. How one moment he looks like Red Hood, all tough edges, bruised knuckles, spit and anger and Gotham grime to last for days, and the very next he’s just … a boy.

A very happy one.

“Oh, thank fuck,” He whispered to himself, dropping his helmet on the couch as he passed. He was grinning before he even turned into the hall.

He appeared in the bathroom mirror behind you moments later, when you were half bent over the sink, toothbrush still in your mouth.

There he was. Hair messed up from his helmet, eyes exhausted, leather jacket half unzipped. You could tell it had been a rough night, and somewhere under his clothes bruises were already blooming. But he was looking at you like he had just walked through Heaven’s gates instead of into your slightly cluttered, too small, too expensive apartment at 1am.

“There’s my girl”

It comes out of him soft, and delighted, and terribly fond.

You barely have time to spit the toothpaste and rinse your mouth before he’s on you. Jason does not enter spaces normally when he’s this happy. He arrives in them entirely, every piece of him committing to it at once.

“Hi, baby” You laughed as his arms came around you from behind, picking you up and bringing you to the bedroom. He practically dropped you onto the bed, before plopping himself down on top of you. Heavy, warm, large. All dramatic deadweight, burying his face into your shoulder with a deep groan.

“There she is,” He mumbled, “I missed you”

“You were gone not even five hours” You replied, trying to shift yourself into a position more comfortable. But it was no use.

“It was five hours. And fourty-six minutes. And it was the worst five hours and fourty-six minutes of my life”

“You know you say that every patrol is the worst time of your life ?” You asked him

“Yeah. I do. And I mean it every time.”

He shifted, pulling his weight off you and wrapping his arms tighter around you as he spoke, like he all of a sudden developed a deep fear of somebody prying you off of him if he let go even for a second. He smelled like the city. Like smoke, and chilly air, rain damp leather, gunpowder, sweat and the faintest trace of blood.

But underneath it all, he still smelled like Jason. Jason who was home, and safe.

He pressed a kiss to the side of your jaw, then another, and another right after because he’s decided that taking a break was optional for him tonight.

You laughed, trying to push at his shoulder. He didn’t budge. “Jay”

“Nope”

“Jay.”

“Nope,” he repeated, grinning against your skin as he kissed you again, pressing a new one on every inch of skin he could reach. “Can’t hear you. I’m busy”

“Busy doing what exactly ?” You asked

“Kissin’ my girl.” He answered, as if it was obviously the most important thing in the world for him to be doing right now. The sheer amount of joy put into a single phrase made something ache sweet in your chest. Because he means it every single time he says it. My girl. Not in the sharp possessive type of way. He said it with reverence, in a Look-What-I-Get-To-Have-Way.

He pulled back just enough to look at you properly, hands coming up to cup your face, making sure your eyes stayed on him and nothing else. And there it was, that smile of his. The real one, the one where his eyes crinkled and his nose scrunched up. The smile that was too big to hide, and too bright to try and play cool. But Jason had never been able to even think about acting normal when it came to loving you.

“You stayed up for me,” He said proudly

“I always stay up for you”

“I know” His grin somehow got even brighter “That’s the best part”

It was immediately followed by: “Do we have any snacks”

You laughed so hard you snorted. “You are unbelievable”

“Hey. I deserve them. I got stabbed a little”

“You did not” You gave a playful smack to his arm. You would have known the second he walked through the door if he got stabbed.

“Emotionally. Because I had to be away from you”

“That does not count as being stabbed, Jason”

“It should” He grumbled, flopping sideways again until nearly his entire body was draped over yours. Clingy in that absurd post-patrol way he allows himself to have when he makes it home. He propped himself half up on his elbow, and just stared at you. You stared back.

He started laughing first, warm, loud laughter. The kind that shook his shoulder and made him duck his head into your neck when he was catching his breath afterwards, still grinning helplessly because he had lost all control over it.

He couldn’t contain it. Not here, not with you. Outside of this apartment he could keep himself locked up so tight sometimes he feels like he might crack under all of it. But here ? With you curled up under him, the sheets freshly washed, the lights dimmed and warm, everything overflows. Affection, relief, want, joy so pure and earnest it becomes boyish.

He steals kisses between sentences, and smiles for no reason, and touches you over and over, every place he can reach.

When you brush his hair back from his forehead he melts. Eyes closing, face going soft, leaning into your hand with a little sigh that makes you laugh again.

“There he is,” You teased, softer this time “Big scary crime lord.”

“Don’t ruin my reputation” He teased back. But his reputation was clearly not as important as having his face pressed into the palm of your hand.

“You are laying across me like a large dog”

“Yes. A guard dog.”

“A lap dog” You corrected

Jason let out a dramatic gasp, head popping up from your hand before he grabbed your face and kissed you three times in rapid succession.

“That is defamation,” "A kiss “Slander,” another kiss “Character assassination” A third kiss.

You were breathless, still laughing, when he finally settled again, heavy with contentment, head tucked against your chest to listen to the sound of your heart beating.

Neither of you said anything for a while, instead Jason just listened. Breathing slowly, rubbing his thumb in slow circles against your side, still smiling.

He never really thought he’d get to this part of things. He got the dramatic parts of life, the life-or-death parts, the yearning so deep it ached.

But he didn’t think he’d get this. The coming home part. The being loved openly and dearly part. The getting to collapses into the arms of the girl he loves and hearing her laugh while the city spins outside and he is untouched and unbothered for a few hours.

His head tilted up again suddenly, eyes bright.

“You know what ?” He asked

“What ?”

“I think that I am devastatingly in love with you”

You smiled at him, fingers brushing through the white streak of hair above the center of his forehead.

“Oh yeah ?”