Jason Todd X Reader - Blog Posts

j.t. | all i wanted

pairing: jason todd x unrequited!reader & platonic!dick grayson x platonic!reader

a/n: dear fucking god- this hurt to write- and this is an au where all the robins are living at the manor. reader is close friends with the batboys. also “she” is the new batgirl- also, there isn’t a specific iteration of the characters that is mentioned, i left that up to your imagination. :) and i didn’t know how tf to begin this-

request: yes by @artistichoodiegirl : “i wrote a poem that reminds me of jason. can you write an angst fic based off of it?”

warnings: ANGST OMFG THE ANGST- also, i don’t know if i like the way this came out, but i hope you enjoy nonetheless. :)

you wanted to deny your feelings for him, but being as that felt physically impossible, you felt like a lost cause. crying your eyes out almost every night all because of a stupid guy. your brain tells you that you’re an adult, that you shouldn’t be so messed up over a guy, that you’re pathetic for feeling this way.

this night wasn’t any different, laying on your bed, wallowing in your own self pity.

dick walked down the hallway to your bedroom to tell you that dinner was ready, but when he heard your sniffling through the door before he was about to knock, he became concerned for his best friend. dick knocked, not giving you a chance to respond before turning the handle and opening your door to find you and your room a mess.

tissues everywhere, empty water-bottles, and and dishes on your bed-side table. he sighed before asking the same question he had been asking you for days, “are you okay?”

you turned to him, and what he saw shocked him. your hair messy and all over the place, eyes and nose red, it didn’t look like you were just sad, you looked ill.

“yeah, i’m just peachy.” you replied sarcastically, trying to deter him from being serious with you. “y/n i’m being serious. you’ve been cooped up in here for what seems like days, the boys are worried about you.” you chuckled, still trying to make it seem like you were okay.

dick walked a little bit further into your room before closing the door, knowing you didn’t like your door open. he moves to your bed, sitting across from you, “is he worried?” you asked, already thinking that this certain “he” couldn’t give less of shit about you.

“yes, jason is. he’s been wondering if you’re okay, why you’ve been avoiding him, and why you won’t even so much as look at him anymore.” you keep your eyes looking away from dick, knowing looking at him would make you sob again. “you know i can’t tell him why.”

“why not? you aren’t going to ruin his happiness with her by just talking to him about how you feel. i bet you’d even find at least some closure by talking to him!” you know he’s right, he usually is about these things. you, again, didn’t respond. opting to keep your eyes away from dicks gaze.

“if you’re not going to talk to him, fine. but at least come out and get dinner, talk to the rest of the family for a little bit, please?”

“i don’t know dick-“ “please, for me?” you shouldn’t have looked at him, his gorgeous blue eyes are impossible to say no to. “…fine. but let me get ready, i look like absolute shit right now.”

“yeah, you do.” that earned him a pillow to the face.

you closed your bedroom door before heading down the hall and to the kitchen. were you nervous, yeah. did you really want to speak to jason, no. but, you were doing this for your best friend and no one else.

and of course, the sight that you didn’t want to see the most was right in front of you, jason sitting on the couch with her in his lap, almost on top of him.

“hey, look who finally came out of hiding.” you mentally cursed tim for making it obvious. heads turned, but jason’s and hers stayed where they were, as though the couldn’t care less. you looked away from them and moved over to where damian, tim, and dick had been sitting after already getting some food.

you were 90% sure that tim knew about your feelings for jason, you didn’t know if damian knew or cared, and of course, dick being the emotional support friend, of course he knew.

you four sat in comfortable silence, occasionally hearing jason and her giggle, making you want to shiver from how uncomfortable it was. tim seemed to notice this and gave you a look of sympathy, damian lyes back on the couch and muttered to himself, “idiot…” looking at jason.

you chuckled softly, you didn’t know what it was, but damian had a way of making you feel better, even if it was unintentional. of course he knew, your moping had been kind of obvious.

making comfortable small talk with the other boys while eating, jason occasionally looked at you. ‘i should talk to her.’ he thought, before being distracted by the woman in front of him.

laying on your bed, staring at the ceiling trying not be/ feel pathetic for being upset that he didn’t even speak to you during dinner. you grabbed the pillow on the other side of your bed and pushed it over your face, and screamed.

even though jason has never slept in your bed with you, it felt…cold and lonely. he was something you craved, but knew you could never have, like god just wanted to continue to fuck you over.

there’s a knock on the door and you’re sitting up very quickly, “hey, can we talk?” it was jason.

hoping you looked okay, you gave a little huff and said to yourself, “don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry…”

“come in!” jason heard through the door, turning the handle and making his way into your room. your eyes widened and tried to act normal, like his presence didn’t make your stomach do flips. he closes the door behind you and sits next to you on the bed, you of course still not looking at him.

“why have you been avoiding me? you haven’t talked to me in days, and you can barely look at me. what’s going on?”

you wanted to tell him, you really did. but you couldn’t ruin what they had, knowing it’d be awkward for you, jason, her, and the rest of the boys.

“nothing is the matter jason, i just…haven’t been in the best state of mind recently, that’s all.” you mustered enough courage to turn and look at him, automatically regretting it to find him already looking at you. his eyes full of concern, but void of love. sure, maybe an almost sibling love, but not romantic. before all of this you had tried to make it painfully obvious of how you thought of him. but after she showed up, there was nothing really you could do.

“y/n, i’m going to take your word for it, and not pry. but i still want to talk to you.” “about?”

he looked at you once again, “does it matter?”

no, it didn’t, all that mattered was that he was talking you, something you had tried to avoid but internally yearned for.

asking the most painful question, just to make it seem like you really were okay, “how’re things going between you two?” he laughed, his beautiful smile never failing to mesmerize you.

“they’re going pretty good actually, i think i want to marry her.”

why were you surprised? they had been going for awhile now and of course he’d want to marry her. she could give him everything he wanted.

you tried not to whip your head around at him, you also tried not to burst out in sobs upon hearing those words. he wanted to marry her? “oh wow, that’s…a big commitment.” you laughed, trying to seem normal.

he in turn laughed a little too, “yeah, i know, but she just makes me so happy. i finally have the chance to have the family i’ve always wanted,”

“have two kids, preferably daughters. i am definitely going to name one amber.” of course he would, he’d always loved that name.

the pain in your chest is indescribable, you had hoped that he’d be having that family with you. but , it seems as though you may have waited too long. “that sounds amazing…i’m so happy for you.”

the words sounded disingenuous, but at this point you didn’t care. it hurt too much to see the person you love the absolute most, talk about starting a family with someone other than you.

faking a yawn you stood up, “i’m pretty tired, so i’m gonna have to kick you out now.” jason gazed up at you, faking being offended. “wow, we just started talking again and you’re kicking me out? rude.”

you laughed as he stood up and walked to your door, you following not far behind. when he stood just outside your door and in the hallway, there was an awkward silence. “goodnight, jason-“

“before i leave, can i get a hug? i’ve missed you y’know.” jason held his hand between the door and the doorway.

you hated how much you loved those words, he said he missed you. “yeah, you can have a hug.”

jason pushes the door open and quickly wraps his arms around your waist, and you wrap your arms around his neck. “please never avoid me like that again.”

he muttered in your ear, sounding genuinely hurt by what you had done. “i won’t.”

it felt like minutes before he pulled away, looking down at you and smiling. “you should get some sleep, i can see your eye bags underneath your concealer.”

“shut up, asshole.” you laughed, knowing he was just teasing you. jason stepped out of your room and into the hallway, “goodnight, y/n.”

“goodnight, jason.” you both smiled at one another before he walked down the hall to his bedroom. you closed your door and suddenly everything hit you like a ton of bricks.

he was going to marry her, he wanted her children, and he’s going to name one amber.

he’s going to have the “big, happy family life”, something you knew you probably would be apart of. possibly babysitting his children.

you hated thinking about it, but, as long as he was happy. you’d do anything for him, even while suffering in silence.

now you were left to yourself, again, laying in your bed, staring at the ceiling, tears streaming down the sides of your face and soaking your hair.

“fuck, i’m pathetic.”

you cried yourself to sleep, for the 7th time that week. wishing you would have been brave enough to just tell him how you feel, but instead you’re all alone.

and who else is there to blame, but yourself?

also, here’s the poem that the requester wrote! <3

I tried to win your love but

I can't compete

when she already won

god she's so much better

you should give her that diamond ring

I was begging for

I bet she's dying for you to get down on one knee

You probably already sing her to sleep

brush her hair

like you used to do for me

now i'm alone

got no one to hold

god my bed is so cold

But I still hope she's happy

make her smile when she's lonely

and give her a home

now that I'm alone..

imagine all of the little babies

you'll have driving her crazy

You'll probably have 2 daughters

I bet you'll name one Amber

you always really liked that name

you'll be such a wonderful father

I know you had those doubts

but I know she'll even them out,

And even though we aren't together

you always have my shoulder

for when your doubts

start to make the world dark

I just hope I'll still be around

to meet all of your little ones

but for now

I'll sit here and watch you…

be happy

I bet she's feels lucky

I'm glad you have one another

to hold each other

and keep the bed warm...

I hope you're happy

and never ever feel lonely

I'm glad you found a home

now that I'm alone...

j.t. & d.g. | cuddle head-cannons

pairing: jason todd x reader & dick grayson x reader

a.n: again, gn!reader. and i went for a more comic book jason with this one. bc in the comics this man is HUGE- 😫

warnings: tooth rotting fluff. >:)

jason todd

would absolutely never admit that he liked cuddling to ANYONE, except you ofc.

this man is a whole ass UNIT.

tall asf and built asf. and this fucker loves that he is.

sit on his lap and wrap your arms around his neck, he’s in heaven.

i feel like his favorite cuddle position sleep wise would be:

you pulled into his chest, his arms wrapped around your middle and hands resting your back. jasons’ chin resting on top of your head, and your legs tangled together.

bruh, you don’t even need the comforter, this man is a whole ass heater.

you begging him to cuddle you during the winter months, and being the shit he is:

jason: >:) “…no.”

y/n: “WHAT DO YOU MEAN, NO?!”

dick grayson

the sweetest mf.

you don’t even have to ask him for cuddles, it’s like he has a psychic sense for them.

you two cuddling at any chance you get bc he’s, a lot of time, on missions and could get a call at any minute.

i think his favorite cuddle position would be:

him spooning you, arms wrapped around your middle and his face nuzzled into your neck.

whenever you’re cuddling like this, he likes to purposefully breathe on your neck to try and get a reaction out of you.

(i pretty much head-cannon all of the batboys to be little shits- 😭🤚🏻)

if you’re ticklish…good luck- he’s gonna tickle tf out of you- 💀

y’all know those little hum noises that people make whenever they’re content?

yeah, he makes those little noises all the time when you two are cuddling and it’s the cutest shit-

i really like this one, my love for both of these boys might be concerning-

j.t. | smutty scenario

pairing: titans!jason todd x fem!reader

an: just a little bit of ✨S P I C E✨

warnings: smut, begging, bad writing.

jason was eating you out like a man STARVED. flicking your clit with his tongue, his middle and ring fingers deep inside you, brushing by your cervix every once in awhile.

jason curled his fingers inside you, pressing on that spot that made your eyes role to the back of your head, “jay! i’m gonna cum…” your voice barely above a whisper, but loud enough for him to hear.

he saw an opportunity and took it, pulling his fingers out of your pussy and stopping all movement of his mouth.

you get up, obviously pissed that he stopped, “what the fuck? why’d you stop?” you whined, jason smirks, “you wanna cum, beg for it.”

“…i’m not in the fucking mood.” and this little cocky shit goes, “well, i guess you’re not cumming tonight.” he shrugs, as if this bitch doesn’t have the biggest hard on- 💀🤚🏻

you pout, finally giving into what he wanted of you, “please…” it’s like your pride held you back from saying what you wanted, and of course that isn’t enough for jason, “i’m gonna need more babe.”

rolling your eyes, even though you kinda enjoyed begging, “please jay, please make me cum, i need it…”

jason, finally satisfied with your answer, smirked once again and gave you what you wanted.

before you know it, his fingers are back inside you, and his tongue is back on your clit. “fuck! mmm feels so good-“ that familiar pressure returns and you’re on cloud nine.

fuck im bad at endings- 💀

also inspired by one of @smellslikemultifandomimagines amazing head-cannons!

Thinking about having to fight your first love and everything else went downhill after you got hurt by him.

(Was leaning more to AK!Jason because who doesn't like a sad ending?)

Warning(s): brief mention of blood, angst/no happy ending duh, a gunshot?

It wasn't supposed to go like this. You weren't supposed to be here, cradled in his arms as he tried desperately to stop the bleeding. Shallow breathing as you tried to stay awake. You have to stay awake. He has to make sure you stay awake.

You, the very same person he has fought by side by side during his Robin days. You the very same person who sneaks off with to have a quiet time underneath the stars of gothem despite the crimes and evil lurking in the city.

God, how he wished he could relieve that night again. When everything was much more simple. Without the heavy burden and trauma he has now. Now there he was, holding you in his arms. He wished he wasn't stopping the blood that he caused.

It should have been someone else. Someone else he would have shot without hesitation, and yet you were the person in his arms. Bleeding out as he tries desperately to stop the bleeding. Your eyes heavy, threatening to not close as you held onto him.

"You know, I never got to tell you how I feel that night..."

He could hear you mutter tiredly. And it was sick, how he instantly knew what you were referring to. The very same night he held you close. It was sickening how you decided now out of other times to say this.

"You shouldn't be talking. You need to stay awake."

He said, trying to keep you alive. But of course, he knew. No amount of words could describe the relationship you two have when you were younger. The secret smiles and stolen touches in between patrols. But God, does he know how you feel about him because he feels the same way.

"I will always love you, Jason."

And there it was, despite his words for you not to speak anymore, fell on deaf ears. Words were stuck in his throat. It was pathetic. How could he ever repeat those same words even though he feels the same way while you were slowly dying in his arms.

Every breath you took was a sharp reminder of what he did. He was the one who shot you. Apologies, they were worthless in this situation. And worse, he could feel you slipping from his arms. Blood stained hands that he caused. He was sorry, sorry he couldn't save you. The very same person he would burn the world for.

i need him in my life so fucking bad god please

got your heart in a headlock

aka soft secrets and domestic moments with jason todd

———

jason grew up in fire. all that he is and all he that knows is cigarette smoke and uncaged adrenaline. he never used to pretend to be something different, he knew what he was and he lived with that burden like he did any other. in the past, he never lied to himself, or let himself believe that maybe, just maybe, he could be something else.

something good.

enter you, you who is good and whole and endlessly kind. you with lips full of sugar, arms full of warmth, and eyes full of love. you, who was made with starlight and wonder, who never looked at him like he was a bad dog, like you were capable of being bit. you, who is light and closeness and understanding. who loves him so deeply in a way he doesn’t deserve to be loved.

so when he comes home from his world of ash and blood, he becomes someone who wears your vanilla shampoo, just because he likes to smell like you. he becomes someone who has the time to watch cheesy romcoms and lengthy youtube videos, just because he gets to hold you in his arms. he becomes someone who sleeps in a bed with eight pillows and dozens of stuffed animals, because he can listen to your soft snores all night long. in your home (which you insist is his too), he is not made of jagged, broken edges, he is not unloveable, he is not a violent dog.

he starts to believe that your love could make him something beyond bloody knuckles and restless nights.

he’s your jason, and he thinks that’s all he wants to be. even if he’s not good at showing you how much he cares. even if he has trouble accepting that your kindness and goodness don’t come with ulterior motives or strings attached. even if he can’t be the guy he thinks you deserve, he still loves being your jason. it’s his duty more than his role, he lives to see you smile, to hold you in his arms on rough nights, to kiss you senseless. because you’ve given him a strange sort of hope that makes him believe he can be more than he is.

normally, you’re not able to sneak out of bed without waking him up. vigilantes senses and whatnot make him an infuriatingly light sleeper, but today was one of those rare mornings you managed to slip from his iron grasp and get up to pee without disturbing your sleeping beauty.

you take a second to watch him, smiling softly as his chest falls rhythmically while he breathes. you don’t often get to see him so peaceful, where his body isn’t tense with the weight of the world, his eyes don’t have that worried glare. you like that, at least in his moments of unconsciousness, he doesn’t feel so unfathomably stressed when he’s with you.

you gently close the bedroom door, making sure you’re quiet enough to not let your boyfriend continue to rest. once you hear the satisfying click of the door, you move to the kitchen, wiping the sleep from your eyes.

you turn on some soft music, ensuring that the volume is low enough as not to disturb jason’s sleep, as you work, pulling the ingredients from your pantry, preheating the oven. you crack three eggs into a small bowl, humming to yourself as you go through the motions. you don’t notice jason until he slips his arms around your waist, pulling a yelp from your throat.

he breathes you in, carefully smushing his nose into your hair. he’s so warm you think, you want to live a life in those arms, big and protective and a wonderful source of heat. “tell me i didn’t wake you up.” you wince, leaning back into his chest, looking up at him. he shakes his head, yawning.

“you didn’t, ma.” he says, sleep plaguing is voice. his obvious exhaustion not stopping him from smiling down at you. “what’re’ya making?” a twinge of an accent bleeds into his voice, the jersey he doesn’t care to hide so early in the morning, a part of him you revel in getting to hear.

you smile back, looking back down and continuing your work with the ingredients in front of you. “i’m baking a pie for mrs. lewitski downstairs.” you explain. “her cat just died.” you say, a small pout pushing at your lips.

jason shakes his head, frowning softly. “poor lady. can i help?” he asks, his voice twinging with empathy. he wonders if, before he met you, he would care about such a thing. if he would be the sort of person to sympathize with something as small as a cat funeral without your guiding hand.

you know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, he would.

you nod, pointing at a cutting board and a pile of granny smiths. “cut the apples.”

he nods, pressing a kiss against the tippy-top of your head before he pulls away, a goodbye that feels like torture. “yes ma’am.” he says, carefully taking a knife out of the knife block before heading over to his station.

neither of you talk, lost in the comfort of each other’s company. jason peels and cuts the apples with expert precision, you form the dough for the crust. it’s quiet little moments like these that make up a life together.

“jay?” you ask, after giving up on rolling out the particularly tough dough. “could you give me a hand?”

he looks up from the apples, of which he’s already almost finished (damn those vigilante skills), and gives you a nod. he sets down the knife, coming up behind you, pressing himself against your back.

“of course, baby.” he whispers into your ear, his teeth lightly sinking into your cartilage, just enough to make you shiver. he gently places his arms over yours, holding his calloused hands atop yours. he moves the rolling pin slowly back and forth, putting his strength into the dough.

he pushes dough slowly, his breath hot against your neck. “like this?” he asks, once the dough gets thin enough. again, you shiver, his voice sending little waves through your spine.

“little thinner.” you say, leaning back into him.

“little thinner.” he hums, his voice a low mumble in your ear.

jason todd grew up in fire, he was born in it. but that fire makes him emit a pleasant warmth that you can’t live without. it makes his touch burn against your skin, sending electric shots through your body. it makes him the only person you’ve ever wanted to come home too, the only person you’ve ever been capable of loving, the only person you could ever love. his warmth was made for you, a cocoon of his fire you can only pray surrounds you for as long as you live.

he continues rolling, until he gets the crust rolled just right. truthfully, you extended the moment a little more than necessary, lightly instructing just a bit more, oh wait, can you make it thicker? to allow yourself to bask in the fire a second longer. you can feel a knowing smile pressing into your head, noting how he does move ever-so-slightly slower in service to you.

once he’s done, he pulls away, his hand trailing against your waist, lingering in the small of your back for a second longer than he likely should. he goes back to chopping the apples, humming with a small smile on his face. you too continue your task, making a sugar mixture to pour over the cubed granny smiths.

eventually, you both finish, and he helps you pour the apple-brown-sugar mixture into the dough-lined pie tins he helped you make. his hands are surprisingly gentle with the pasty. you didn’t realize that he was scared of ruining something as delicate and beautiful as something your hands were benevolent enough to create. but he would do whatever you asked, even if he was unsure why you would want his help. he doesn’t create, he destroys.

“can you press a fork against the edges, like this?” you ask, demonstrating how he could press both ends of the pies together. he simply nods, his fingers brushing against yours as he carefully took the silver from your hands. “i’ll check the oven.”

you pull back and open the oven, sticking your hand into the scorching air to test its temperature, earning a small frown from jason. you quickly close the door and turn back to him, moving across the kitchen. your hands slide around his waist, meeting just below his belly button. you lean up, pressing your head into the back of his neck, planting a small kiss against his spine.

“you’re good at that.” you say, watching as he works.

“yeah?” he mumbles, a soft smile on his face. he doesn’t quite believe he’s doing less harm than good, but he likes the reward he’s getting for it.

“i should make you my official pie-presser.” you respond, placing another kiss against his neck.

“i’d be honored.”

“you should be.”

“you’re making it a bit hard for me to focus, ma.” he says, shivering as you kiss him again and again, making sure to breath him in.

you smile against his skin. “i only need you to focus until we put these in the oven.” you mumble seductively, breathing hot air into his ear.

he pauses, stiff and still for an entire moment, before his shoulders drop and he returns to work like a man possessed. you squeeze yourself into him, breathing in his scent- a mix of irish spring and leather.

he only moves to put the pies in the oven, giving your arm a squeeze before he pulls away. “how long?” he asks, his fingers brushing over the keypad on the oven timer.

“twenty-five minutes.” you say, leaning back against the countertop. he presses the buttons carefully, before making his way back to you.

he smiles, not just with his mouth, but with those piercing blue eyes you can’t seem to tear yourself away from. his hair, messy from sleep, falls a bit in his face and, well, it’s your job to push it back. once he gets close enough to dip his head down, your hands are all over him, one against his forehead, smoothing his hair, and the other trailing down his arm.

“you’re my favorite helper.” you say, as he leans closer, a grin forming from the smile that had such a hold on his lips.

without warning, his hands slip on the bottoms of your thighs, and he hoists you up on the counter, eliciting a yelp from you.

“jay!” you exclaim, giggling. you spread your legs just enough to make room for him, letting him lean in, placing your arms against his shoulders. he’s wearing a shit-eating grin, but looking up at you with stars in his eyes.

“you didn’t think all that help was for free, did you?” he says, moving closer, his lips a breath away from yours. you playfully roll your eyes, but you can’t suppress the smile on your face, or the red that dusts your cheeks.

“and what exactly do i owe you?” you ask, raising a brow.

he leans in closer, his lips taking yours. for a moment, all you are is jason, all you can and ever want to be is a person that he loves. his lips crash against yours, in a perfectly soft rhythm that you two have learned to follow with each other. passion isn’t a word intense enough to describe a kiss like this, especially when compared to the loveless kisses you’ve given your past partners.

this is love.

neither of you want to pull away, but you do. something so good means eventually you’ll have to come up for air.

“y’know, we’ve got—“ jason pulls his head back, checking the oven timer. “—twenty minutes and fifty three seconds before you have to take out the pies.” he points out, his eyes darting back to yours with a mischievous sort of grin. “why not make the most of them.”

you giggle a little bit, like he’s not your jason and you haven’t been in love with him all this time. it’s ridiculous your boyfriend of a year has such an effect on you still, but here you are, a blushing mess of a woman, infatuated with the man in front of you.

“and how would you suppose we do that?” you ask, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

his grin spreads across his face, and before you can think to do more than flash your dopey smile, he pulls his hands under your ass and picks you up, holding you against him.

you yelp again, giggling as he pulls you closer. your legs wrap around his waist, and your arms meet at his middle back. he smiles up at you, pressing a chaste kiss against your smile, before moving you towards the bedroom, sucking a soft kiss against your neck.

the secret you keep from jason, only because you know he wouldn’t believe you if you dared confess it, is that he is inherently good. yes, he was forged in fire, tossed around by a universe with little care for his happiness or his safety. you’re not sure how he hasn’t realized that that’s what makes him a good man, a man who cares about cat funerals and revels in making you feel warm and loved. you know that he credits you with his goodness, that you’re the reason he loves and deserves to be love, and if he needs you to be that reason, you’ll do it proudly. but jason is good beyond you, a man with unwavering character. that’s why you love him so.

“like real people do” by hozier is so jason todd coded it has me writing purple prose at 1pm on a friday. i was listening to that masterpiece of a song and couldn’t stop thinking of jay’s childhood first love being there the night he came back. so out came this sort of au based on the ‘superboy punches reality’ version of his resurrection.

tw for depictions of jason’s torture and murder, his being resurrected and escaping his grave, reader’s severe depression and suicidal ideation surrounding her grief, heavy codependency implied between jason and reader, and general resurrection angst.

It was a dark and stormy night. Isn’t that how these things always go? Horrid cliches find unexpected ways of coming back to life. Much like the life that sparks suddenly within the boy in the casket. Black, dark nothingness becomes humid, suffocating air. He tries to sit up and meets silk-covered mahogany that traps him. The boy in the casket does not know where he is. He does not know who he is.

He remembers feelings. Something loud, bright, and hot that made everything go dark. Resignation, the urge to protect, forgiveness. The feeling of his skull cracking, his collarbone shattering under the blunt force of metal. The laughter the laughter the laughter it is driving him mad. The white hot pain of his legs snapping under the weight of the man that laughs. The guttural feeling of betrayal and fear. The smell of cigarettes. He is the sweet boy that wants his mother.

Hope, bright and incandescent. Rebellion and longing. Anger, angst, the horrible need to be understood by the people you love most. Ambition, pride, joy, encouragement; the warmth of family. He is no longer a fatherless son. Hope, wary but resilient. Fear, then relief, at the sight of the Dark Knight.

The boy in the casket remembers. He still does not know who he is. But he knows he has a father. He knows it because he is screaming for his father as he tears through the silk and scrapes the skin from his fingers against the hard mahogany. He screams for his father as he kicks through the wood, as the damp earth fills the enclosed space and steals the little air that remains for him to breathe. He is thinking of his father as he pulls his body through the hole he made. The jagged wood is digging into his side and he feels blood drip hot down his torso. It’s different from the wet cold that surrounds him and he focuses on that to stay cognizant. But the earth presses in and he is tired. He is so very tired.

He remembers something else. He remembers being tired once before, but he was warm then. He remembers being cozy under blankets. Innocent laughter and innocent kisses. The prettiest eyes he’s ever seen and the love that gleamed just for him shining within them. Then a voice. Melodic and beautiful and sweet as honey.

“C’mon, Jay, don’t fall asleep yet.”

You would not want him to fade back into the eternal sleep he just woke from. No. He cannot go back just yet. He tries to dig upward, but his body aches. The earth grows thicker, turns to sludge that drowns him. He shoves one hand over his face to claim a bit of air and is given a mouthful of mud instead. He chokes out one final scream. His head is getting fuzzy, lack of air making his skull feel cotton-filled and staticky. Still he digs up and up and up. But there’s no light. Just more earth. Maybe he does belong here. Maybe someone made a mistake and gave him a few moments that were meant for someone else. He makes one last push, that familiar resignation washing over him again as he closes his eyes. Then a hand wraps tight around his wrist and he’s showered in the cold midnight rain.

You have a secret. It’s personal and it’s abnormal and it’s yours. You’ve been sleeping on Jason Todd’s grave for the past week. No one knows. Well, Bruce Wayne knows. He must. His son’s grave is on his estate, after all, and the Bat’s security measures are the best you’ve ever seen. You don’t know why he’s letting his dead son’s girlfriend sleep on his grave, but you’re thankful he hasn’t kicked you out yet.

It’s been four years since Jason died. Four years and you still can’t accept it. You visit him every day. You bring him flowers and read him books and tell him about your life. You try to pretty it up a bit for him. You tell him about the new sundress you bought; it’s red, his favorite color. You tell him about the amazing bakery that opened up in the Heights and how you think he’d adore their chocolate chip cookies.

You don’t tell him that you’re so depressed over his absence that there are times when you go weeks existing only in your bed with sparse trips to the bathroom. You don’t tell him that you dropped out of college after your first year, that you failed in your joint promise to go to Gotham City University together. You just couldn’t handle it. The weight of your grief is already an iron chain around your throat, hooked to an eternal anchor. You didn’t need the pressure of perfect grades—an unshakeable requirement of your scholarship as you couldn’t afford to go to school any other way. You certainly don’t tell him that you’ve considered joining him, that sometimes that seems like the only thing you want anymore.

But it’s been getting worse. You miss him. Not in any way that’s healthy. At least that’s what you were told by the grief counselor your mother made you see. You miss him so badly that you’re sleeping on his grave come hell or high water. Tonight it’s high water. The cold rain soaks through your hoodie and sweats, but you don’t care. You’ve stabbed an umbrella into the ground and you’ve got an old blanket under you, so you’re all set. The bone-chilling cold of the water doesn’t matter. The way that it lures you to sleep doesn’t matter. Your body temperature is probably dropping and sleep to the freezing is deadly, but that doesn’t matter either. What matters is that you’re here with the boy you love.

You have another secret. This one’s worse, so terrible that you even scare yourself. You’ve been considering digging up Jason’s grave for the past thirty minutes. It started subconsciously. You didn’t even realize you were clawing into the ground until the grass was uprooted. You’ve made a good dent now, maybe six inches or so. It’s insane. You’re insane. But you ache to be close to him. Jason Todd took half of your soul with him when he was lowered into the ground. The better half; the half of you that was light and joyous and filled with love. You want it back. You want him back. You don’t know what you would do if you dug up his grave, but you know that you’d be closer to him than six feet.

You lie in the rain and contemplate why you’re here. You’ve missed him this fiercely every day for the last four years. It’s just this past week that you’ve been drawn to sleep on the earth above him. Like a moth to flame, like Ariadne’s golden thread leading out of the darkness of the labyrinth. Or maybe you’ve finally lost what’s left of your mind. You think you have when you hear noises from beneath the earth.

“Finally talking to me, Jay?” you ask.

Melancholy sarcasm is made weak by the way your teeth chatter and how your shivering leaks into your tone. But then you hear it again. It’s faint, deep below and muffled but it’s there. Then a thudding noise. Over and over and over. Your heart kicks to life. Adrenaline shoots through you and the cold seeped into your body melts with the heat of it. Jason is dead. He’s been dead for four years. But something is alive in his grave. Your hands sink into the small hole you’ve already made and you shovel the earth out in a manic rush. You dig and dig and dig. Your arms are elbow deep when you feel fingers brush against your own. You should be afraid. You should run. Instead you reach further, grasp hard around the wrist and pull. The ground gives way and your reality shatters in an instant. You’ve just pulled Jason Todd from his grave.

He’s bigger than you remember. His body weight is crushing as he collapses on top of you. (You’re smaller than he remembers. He has a crystal clear image of looking up into those pretty eyes and now he can barely feel you squished underneath him.)

He’s covered in sodden earth from head to toe. There’s blood seeping warmly from his torso into your red hoodie. (Your arms are caked in mud. Why? What were you digging for?)

Even with his difference in size—he must be well over a foot taller and at least one hundred pounds heavier—there is nothing that compares to the pure shock of looking into his eyes. Piercing gunmetal blue that you see every time you close your eyes is now a deep seafoam green. And yet looking into them you still feel like you’re home again. (Those pretty eyes are still the same. They still have that gleam of love when they land on him. But they’re also red and bloodshot like you’ve been crying. Please don’t cry. He doesn’t want you to be sad. He loves you. He doesn’t know your name but he knows that he loves you.)

You’re both as still as the memorial statues of Martha and Thomas that loom protectively beside Jason’s grave. Shock settles in.

“Jason. Oh my God. Jason, you’re—“ your voice breaks before you can say the words you thought would only come in dreams.

“Alive,” he croaks, voice dry and grating from lack of use.

He is alive. He is alive and breathing and with you again. You don’t know what caused this, why a dead boy crawled from his grave in the body of a man, but you’re not going to ask questions. The only answer you need is lying in your arms. Tears stream down your face, only differentiated from the rain by their warmth.

“You’re here, you’re here, you’re here,” you murmur into his mud-soaked hair as you cradle his head in the crook of your neck.

“Here,” he echoes. “Real?”

It doesn’t feel like it. His head is hazy and clouded but he’s starting to recall things. Like a steady trickle of water coalescing into a stream, into a river, into a flood. He remembers your name. He remembers stolen tires and bat ears. He remembers chamomile tea with a butler and stories of old theatre productions. He remembers how all the classic romance novels in his freshman English class looked just like the pretty girl sitting at the desk to his right. He remembers sweet giggles and shaky hands and soft kisses. He remembers. But he can’t speak it. He can’t find the words or the comprehension. He sees these things in flashes, feels them in his bones but he can’t make his mind and body catch up. So he lurches forward, stiff and clumsy, and tries to replicate the warmth of your kisses that have survived death itself.

You kiss Jason Todd for the first time in four years. You taste your tears, the damp earth, and the blood from where he’s bitten his own tongue. You have never tasted anything better because for right now it tastes like him.

“Real. We’re real.”

A sweet surprise and a gentle reminder. The other halves of your souls have been returned, and you are both allowed to exist again.

Rest in Red

Pairing: Jason Todd (Red Hood) x Reader

Summary: Sleeping next to Jason Todd is never boring. From his protective instincts to his late-night vulnerability, every night with him is an unpredictable mix of comfort, restlessness, and quiet love. Whether he’s pulling you closer in his sleep, mumbling sweet nothings without realizing it, or fighting his own inner demons, one thing is certain Jason sleeps best when he’s with you.

[Masterlist]

Sleeping Headcanons with Jason Todd x Reader

Big Spoon Energy:  Jason loves being the big spoon. He won’t say it outright, but holding you close makes him feel grounded. Even on nights when he’s restless, having you in his arms calms him down.

Restless Sleeper: Thanks to his past (and, let’s be real, his terrible sleep schedule), Jason doesn’t sleep deeply. He tosses and turns a lot, and if he’s had a bad night, he might wake up in a cold sweat. But the moment you reach for him, he relaxes almost instantly.

Protective Even in Sleep: His arms are always around you, even unconsciously. If you move, he tightens his hold slightly, as if making sure you’re still there. If he senses any kind of disturbance (like a weird noise outside), he’s alert in seconds, ready to protect you.

Sleeps Better With You: Before you, Jason was used to sleeping alone or barely sleeping at all. Now? The bed feels empty without you. If you’re not there, he either stays up waiting or texts you to come back ASAP.

Mumbling in His Sleep: If he’s in a deep sleep, Jason sometimes mumbles. It’s usually just low, incoherent grumbles, but on rare occasions, you’ll catch him murmuring your name or telling you he loves you without even realizing it.

Forehead Kisses Before Sleep: No matter how tired he is, Jason always presses a lazy kiss to your forehead before drifting off. It’s his silent way of saying, I love you, and I’m glad you’re here.

Late-Night Talks: Some nights, neither of you can sleep, so you just lay there, whispering about anything and everything. Jason opens up the most during these moments, sharing thoughts he wouldn’t say in the daylight.

Mornings Are a Struggle: Jason is not a morning person. If you try to get up early, he’ll groan, pull you back into his arms, and mumble, “Five more minutes.” (Five minutes actually means an hour.)

Post-Mission Crashes: After a long night as Red Hood, Jason sometimes just collapses into bed with you, too exhausted to move. You’ll have to help him take off his boots or jacket, and he’ll murmur a soft, “You’re the best,” before immediately passing out.

Nightmares & Comfort: Jason’s past still haunts him, and sometimes he wakes up in a panic. When that happens, he grips onto you like you’re his lifeline. If you run your fingers through his hair and whisper soothing words, he’ll calm down, murmuring a quiet “Thanks, babe” before falling back asleep.

Unexpected Softness: For someone so tough and battle-worn, Jason is incredibly soft when he sleeps. His breathing evens out, his usually furrowed brows relax, and his grip on you becomes gentle. It’s one of the only times he truly looks at peace.

tag list:

@a-brilliante-mariposa

ALWAYS WITHIN REACH

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

divider by: cafekitsune & omi-resources word count: 1.3k synopsis: Jason Todd doesn’t love loudly but he shows it with his constant presence and actions. a/n: To my anon who requested this, I love you and I loved writing this, but this made me feel so single. I need a man like Jason 😭

The first time you noticed it—really noticed it—was when you were heading out to grab a coffee.

You’d only grabbed your keys and a hoodie, ready to walk the two blocks to the corner store. The weather was mild, the streets quiet, and you hadn’t planned on being gone more than fifteen minutes. As you crouched to tie your laces, yawning mid-sentence, you called out lazily, “I’m gonna go grab a coffee. Want anything?”

Jason was sprawled across the couch, one arm thrown over his eyes, blanket twisted around his legs. He’d groaned not five minutes ago about needing a nap and you figured he’d be out cold by now.

But then you heard the couch creak. He was sitting up.

“I’ll come with you.”

You blinked. “You just said—”

“I’ll drive.” He was already pushing to his feet, reaching for his keys like it wasn’t up for debate.

You stared, baffled. “Jay, I’m literally going across the street.”

He didn’t seem to hear you—or more likely, chose not to. Shirt half-buttoned, boots barely tied, he grabbed his jacket in one hand and your fingers in the other, dragging you gently toward the door. You didn’t argue, mostly because you were still sleepy and not quite ready to match his brand of  stubborn.

The drive took three minutes. He didn’t say much, just rested one hand on the wheel and the other on your thigh, thumb brushing slow, absent circles against your skin like he needed the contact more than the caffeine. Even when he pulled up to the drive-thru window, when you took the drink with a grateful smile and settled back in your seat, Jason didn’t let go. He shifted the wheel easily with one hand, the other still anchored to you, thumb still stroking your skin. 

You didn’t think much of it at the time.

The next time it happened, it was at the grocery store.

You were pushing the cart down an aisle while Jason trailed just behind, his hand warm and steady on the small of your back. It stayed there for most of the trip—absentminded, comforting. Sometimes he’d give a gentle nudge when you paused too long comparing brands, or he’d slide his fingers up your spine for no reason at all except to feel you there.

At one point, somewhere between the produce section and the towering shelves of canned goods, Jason muttered that he needed more protein powder. His voice was low and distracted, already halfway turned toward the far end of the store. He didn’t look back, thinking you were following but instead, you nodded vaguely and veered off toward the ice cream aisle, figuring you could cover more ground that way. 

You moved slowly, eyes scanning the frosty rows of half-gallons and pints. The doors of the freezer hissed quietly as you opened one, cool air spilling out as your reached for two pints, debating between cookie dough and mint chocolate chip. 

You weren’t even half way through the aisle when you felt him behind you again. 

His arms sliding around your waist and wrapping you up without a word. The warmth of him sank through your hoodie, his body pressing close to yours. A moment later, the weight of his head dropped gently onto your shoulder. His breath ghosted over the curve of your neck, soft and steady, the contrast to the chilled air in front of you making your skin prickle.

Leaning back into him just a little, you tilted your head, angling for a glimpse of his face, searching for something—an explanation, maybe. But all you found was the slope of his brow pressed close to your temple, his mouth relaxed, his lashes lowered like he might stay there forever if you let him.

“You okay?” you murmured.

He gave the smallest of nods, the movement brushing his cheek against yours. You stayed like that for a moment longer, Eventually, your fingers drifted toward the freezer door again, and you began to move. His arms loosened, but just enough to let you walk without pulling fully away. One of his hands slid down, fingers catching yours, while his other reached for the cart, reclaiming it without comment, guiding it forward to where you wanted to go.

And that’s when you started to see the pattern.

Jason always walked on the side closest to the street, his body subtly shifting until you were on the inside of the sidewalk, sheltered from traffic. Every single time. Even if it meant cutting mid-conversation to switch sides, or gently tugging you across with a hand to your waist or a brush of fingers against your wrist. It didn’t matter how casual the outing—he’d never let you walk street-side.

He held doors open without thinking, reaching out before you could even touch the handle. And whenever you were out together, his hand was never far. Sometimes laced through yours like second nature, your fingers intertwined as you walked in step. Other times, it rested lightly on the small of your back, guiding you through doorways, around corners, through crowds. 

He insisted on coming with you for errands. Always. It didn’t matter how mundane the task or how quick the trip—Jason was already pulling on his jacket before you finished asking, sometimes you didn’t even have to. And he never complained. Not once. Didn’t check his phone or sigh impatiently. He carried the bags. He waited while you debated between brands of ice cream. Even standing in line, he’d hook a finger through your belt loop and tug you back against him, chin on your shoulder, arms looped loosely around your waist as you two waited.

At gas stations, he always got out with you—even if all you were doing was grabbing gum and a drink. He filled the tank, too, waving off your protests with a quiet, “I got it.” In bookstores, he trailed behind you with a hand on your back, the other juggling the growing stack of titles you kept passing him with a sheepish smile. He never complained about those either. 

In crowded spaces, his arm always found its way around your waist or over your shoulders, pulling you into his side without a word.

And when you ran into people you knew—coworkers, old classmates, friends of friends—he didn’t interrupt or try to charm them. He didn’t puff up or shrink away, instead he seemed content to speak when spoken to. Otherwise he was content to stand at your side. One hand stayed low on your back, rubbing soothing circles.

They often stared at him warily—he was hard not to notice, after all. Tall, sharp-jawed, rough-edged. And yet, despite how intimidating everyone else found him, Jason was soft with you. Protective, yes. But never overbearing. He didn’t tell you what to do or try to keep you in a box made of fear. He just wanted to stay close.

It was subtle, but constant. And the truth was…you kind of loved it.

He was protective in the kind of way that didn’t feel like a cage—it felt like shelter. Like he needed to keep you close not because he didn’t trust you or because he thought you were weak. He stayed close because he knew what the world could be like. He didn’t want to control you. He just didn’t want to lose you.

And maybe that was it. Maybe that was why, no matter where you were or what you were doing, you never had to reach far to find him. In a room full of people, he was there. Even in sleep, he found you. Always.

Because while the world knew Jason as the Red Hood—fearless, violent, deadly—you knew this version. The one who always held your hand, who never let you walk alone, whose constant presence promised you that he was always there for you.

And in the spaces between who he was and how the world saw him, you found the truth of him. A man who had lived through hell, and loved you like it was his personal vow.

Crash Course

Synopsis; A quick ride on Jason Todd’s motorcycle turns into a dumpster disaster. As he grumbles and patches you up, you catch glimpses of the care he hides behind his tough exterior—and learn just how much you mean to him.

Warnings; None! Hope you enjoy, kits!

Jason stood beside his motorcycle, arms crossed, the faint glow of a streetlamp reflecting off the red of his helmet tucked under his arm. "Let me make one thing clear," he said, voice firm and low. "You’re not touching my bike."

You raised an eyebrow, arms folded as you met his glare. "It’s just a ride around the block, Todd. Not like I’m planning to join a street race."

He scoffed, his lips pulling into a smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes. "This isn’t one of your little toys. It’s a Ducati. Custom-built. Worth more than your apartment. You crash it, and you’ll be working for me until you’re sixty."

"Afraid I’ll ride it better than you?" you teased, your grin wide and shameless.

Jason’s jaw tightened, his expression darkening into something unreadable. After a beat, he shoved the helmet into your hands with a sharp glare. "Fine," he said curtly. "But if you lay it down, you’re paying for every scratch, dent, and bolt out of your own damn pocket."

"Deal," you said, practically bouncing as you straddled the sleek machine.

He sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. "Throttle’s touchy. Lean into the turns. And for the love of God, don’t gun it."

You nodded, but you were already revving the engine, adrenaline buzzing in your veins. Before Jason could say another word, you were off, the roar of the bike echoing through the narrow alleyway.

The wind whipped against your face as the bike surged forward, the power of it sending a thrill down your spine. You couldn’t help but let out a victorious laugh. But as the first sharp turn approached, you realized—too late—that you’d underestimated just how sensitive the bike was.

The back wheel skidded. The world tilted. And before you knew it, you and the Ducati went crashing into a dumpster with an echoing clang.

"Shit," you groaned, sprawled on the ground as the bike settled on its side.

Jason’s footsteps were heavy, fast, and loud as he stormed over. He didn’t say anything at first, his jaw tight as he hauled the bike upright and inspected it for damage.

Then he turned to you, his eyes dark and his voice low. "What the hell were you thinking?"

You winced as you tried to sit up, your shoulder protesting with a sharp ache. "I think the bike hates me."

Jason let out a sharp, humorless laugh as he crouched beside you. "The bike doesn’t hate you. The bike doesn’t have a death wish. That’s all you." He grabbed your arm, his grip firm but careful, and helped you to your feet.

You winced again, and Jason’s frown deepened. He guided you to a nearby crate, practically shoving you onto it before crouching down in front of you. His hands were already pulling a small med kit from his jacket pocket.

"Sit still," he muttered, not looking at you as he snapped on a pair of gloves.

"I’m fine," you protested weakly.

"You’re bleeding," he shot back, grabbing an antiseptic wipe and dabbing at the scrape on your arm. "And you’re lucky it’s just scrapes. Do you have any idea what could’ve happened if—" He cut himself off, shaking his head. "You’re reckless. Stupidly reckless."

You tilted your head, watching him work. His hands were steady, but his jaw was tight, his brows furrowed in that way they always did when he was more upset than he let on.

"You’re really worried about me," you said softly, trying for a teasing tone, but it came out quieter than you intended.

Jason froze for a moment, his hand hovering just above your arm. His lips pressed into a thin line, and he didn’t meet your eyes. "I’m worried about my bike," he said gruffly, resuming his work.

"Sure," you murmured, a small smile tugging at your lips.

He ignored you, focusing instead on wrapping your arm in clean gauze. His movements were precise, his touch gentle despite the grumbling under his breath. When he was done, he leaned back on his heels and crossed his arms, finally looking at you.

"You’re banned," he said flatly.

"Jason—"

"Forever," he added, cutting you off.

You sighed, your shoulders slumping. "I said I was sorry."

He shook his head, standing and reaching out a hand to help you up. "Sorry doesn’t fix a totaled bike or a broken neck. Next time," he said, his tone firm, "you ride with me."

His words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you just stared at him. There was something unspoken in his gaze—something protective, almost desperate, that he tried to hide behind his usual gruff exterior.

"Got it," you said softly, taking his hand and letting him pull you to your feet.

Jason grunted, picking up the helmet and tossing it onto the bike. As you both turned toward the alleyway, you couldn’t help but notice the faint tremor in his hand as he ran it through his hair.

"Come on," he said over his shoulder. "Let’s get you cleaned up properly before you start smelling worse than that dumpster."

And as he walked ahead of you, muttering about reckless idiots and ruined leather, you couldn’t help but smile. Beneath all the grumbling, Jason cared more than he’d ever admit.

JASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODDJASONTODD-

domestic JASON TODD who genuinely wonders how his daughter is even real. “she’s perfect..” he murmurs, his voice hushed and expression softer than the fabric she’s swaddled in... oh, her eyes, so much like his own, blink up at him, studying him intently, her tiny little hands wrapped tightly around his finger. he gently takes her folded fist, and he brings it to his lips, placing kisses upon her knuckles. he melted at her toothless smile, her darling laugh. seriously, how was she real? he helped make that beautiful, precious girl? fuck... two or three more years and he’ll want another!

‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤyou can ask the flowers, i sit for hours!

JASON TODD who is the father of two beautiful girls, jane and juliet. yes, named after jane austen and shakespeare.

JASON TODD who reads to them every night before bed. and even before they were born, he read to them. he has never skipped a night, not a single chapter or a single page. he had to indoctrinate them with classic literature young.

JASON TODD who takes his daughters out on daddy-daughter dates every chance he gets. he takes them to art museums, opera shows, and tea parties with professional princess actresses. trips to the library are regular, and with each visit, they always pick out a movie to watch together.

JASON TODD who lets them paint his nails, put face masks on him and basically just use him as their own doll. he doesn’t mind when they trace over the scars on his face. sometimes they compare him to the fairytale heros he reads to them about, and that makes him tear up more than he’d ever admit.

JASON TODD whose wife loves flowers, so he takes his daughters with him like every other week to pick out a new bouquet for her. they grow up with the perfect example of what a gentleman should be like.

JASON TODD who pulls off typical dad outfits wayyy too well.

‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ she’s a jason todd girlie .ᐟ

this is so boyfriend jason todd coded <3

‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎baby, i’m preying on you tonight!

JASON TODD held a presence as strong as liquor. every second with him was intoxicating. he left you trashed, wrecked, hammered, smashed, and every other word there possibly was for drunk. from the moment you saw him, you wondered how’d he taste in the rain, and just like that, you became an alcoholic.

your traitorous heart battered against your chest, and his lips found the pulse in your throat like it was pure instinct. his bothersome shirt was long gone now, and your hands were wandering along his skin, tracing his scars like they were beautiful cracks in the concrete, split like a meandering river. you were tempted to plant kisses in between them like flowers.

“hands are cold.” he mumbled against your neck.

“sorry..” you whispered back, your hands finding retreat over in his hair. he shook his head lightly, silently telling you your apology wasn’t necessary.

ugh, he was a terrible addiction. and like every addict, you were attached to him. you couldn’t leave him, you couldn’t quit him whenever you wanted. you weren’t fooling anyone, all talk no bite, you gave in everytime. flames danced over everything he touched, and you were so, so cold anyway.

his mouth returned back to yours, his kisses full of tongue and hunger, like he was starving. he fit so perfectly against you though, like he belonged right there and nowhere else. it hurt whenever he pulled away, and ever so cruelly, he did.

“i want you.” he said it like it was a promise, and he wanted to keep it—keep you so badly.

“i’m yours.”

‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤtoo busy bein’ yours to fall for somebody new!

— notes 𖹭 j. todd x wife!reader. agents of gotham au. married life shenanigans!!

JASON TODD was kneeled down before you, on his knee, working ever so gently to slip the black leather heel onto your foot, adjusting the ankle strap perfectly.

once he was done, he lifted your leg and pressed a kiss against your thigh, lingering for a quiet moment before standing up right, his hands immediately settling onto your waist.

in response, your own hands trailed over his chest before arranging his suit, fixing his tie just to tug it once more, pulling him close so you could kiss his cheek. lipstick remained where you did not, and you chuckled delicately, running your thumb over it.

“something funny to you, mrs. todd?”

“a little. you, actually.”

“oh, really now.” he whispered, his lips a mere inch away from yours.

“mhmm.”

he chuckled himself, the sound reverberating around your insides, shooting shockwaves up your spine, and sewing itself into the walls of your heart.

a million little words, so many promises, scattered across his eyes. how many could you count in a second? and how many could you translate before he blinked?

“you’re breathtaking.” he murmured, skillfully leaning down to steal a proper kiss, fulfilling every dream you possibly could have dreamed. he was a sanctuary, you could rest your entire soul in his arms.

“and you’re sweet.” you inched away, pressing a hand against his chest. “but we still have work to do.”

“you’re no fun.”

“i’m plenty fun, and you know that.” you tut, taking a handkerchief and wiping away the red mark on his cheek.

“my wife... married to the job before me.”

“oh, hush. ceo of the sassy man apocalypse.”

JASON TODD who is not very good at hiding what he wants. oh, he’ll try. he’ll cradle the side of your face, kiss you softly, slow, and treacherously tender—and he’ll try to play it off when you tease him. but that hunger is unmistakable, it’s deliciously obvious on his tongue, and it’s painfully irresistible. one look into those eyes, and you’re done. clothes adorned across the floor, plucked like flower petals all in a second. he’ll have you laid out beneath him on the bed, kissing every inch of you like a solemn prayer before dinner. tightly grasping onto your hips, pulling you closer, and closer, and closer—until he shudders, breath heavy and skin damp, pressing his forehead against your own, a pretty little curse escaping his mouth. “....fuck.”

building legos with JASON TODD ♡ specifically the batmobile

“jason... that is not how it's supposed to go.”

“i've been in the real damn thing before, i'm pretty sure i'd know which pieces go together.”

“well clearly, you do not.” you mutter, your expression pinched with mild annoyance as you try to break apart two extremely rude lego pieces that just refuse to cooperate.

noticing your struggle, jason takes them and separates them effortlessly and easy, as if he's opening some pickle jar.

“leave the job to the professionals, babe.” he teased, the corners of his mouth turning into an obnoxiously handsome and boyish grin. you stare unamused.

“i am going to purposely leave a lego out so you step on it.”

“wow. now that is cruel.”

“i know.” you sigh theatricality, as if it pains you to make such a threat. “i truly am a sweet girl, don't make me resort to such tactics.”

a fraction of a laugh escapes his throat. “i didn't even do nothin’ wrong.”

“uhm, yes you did. you were being stubborn.”

he hummed, not convincingly agreeing with you. “right. how will i ever make it up to you, doll?”

you pretend to think for a long moment, “a kiss will do.”

he didn’t waste a single second before kissing you, his scent immediately mingling with your senses, like the moon flirting with the stars, dazzling the sky.

eventually, he pulled away, but he continued to linger, his nose gently brushing up against yours, promising another kiss later.

“apology accepted?”

“apology accepted.”

JASON “....and she tortures me, tortures me with her love... the past was nothing. in the past it was only that infernal body of hers that tortured me, but now i've taken all her soul into my soul and through her i've become a man....” TODD

JASON TODD who loves without restraint. his love is complete and unconditional, and it only expands when he holds his little girl for the first time. he couldn't imagine loving you any more than he already did—and yet, he did. the world suddenly felt so silent and non-existent, his heart shattering the moment he saw her bright eyes. and when her little fingers wrapped around his thumb, when she smiled up at him, his ribcage just couldn't contain it. tears fell, and his whispers of gratitude were almost unintelligible between the kisses against your forehead.

JASON TODD who bears the weight of an entire universe inside his heart. you can hear it when he holds you—every pulse of blood a testament, every breath a nebula born. and his kisses are like stars, each burning with an unique intensity. some are passing, breif, and soft. those stars are born when he steals a kiss before patrol, or when he uses them as an apology for leaving bed so early. some are almost blinding, earth shattering and consuming. but your favorite star is the one right in between. soft-mouthed on your neck, hands on your waist, tracing your own universe.

‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ you can hear it in the silence!

JASON’s scent hit you before anything else, even when the glow of the morning surfaced your half conscious eyelids, he was the first thing you felt.

the weight of his arm was draped across your side, and his hands were cold. then you heard his soft snores, and ever so often, the slightest hitch in his breath.

your hand moved instinctively, and you brushed a lock of hair away from his forehead, lingering as you admired the idyllic image before you.

he was so gorgeous, you thought. especially when he was sleeping. and he trusted you, enough to sleep with you. not just intimately, but sleep. in the sweetest, most innocent way.

the sun seeped in through the curtains, and you traced over his skin, following the streaks of light. you felt him shudder, and for a blind second, a visual took over your mind.

you felt him shift, pulling you close before blinking a drowsy eye open. “what are you doing?”

his morning voice did unspeakable wonders to you, and you found yourself wanting to swallow his sighs and groans all over again.

“nothing,” you replied, withdrawing your hand and slipping further beneath him. “just thinking.”

you heard the hum in his chest, and you looked up at him once more. his eyes were closed now, and he started playing with your hair, twirling it around absentmindedly.

you sighed, softly, contently, a tender exhalation. he felt warm, solid and safe. you wanted to cling onto him and never let go. you wanted to keep this moment with you forever. limbs intertwined in bedsheets, breathing in his heavenly scent.

you wanted him forever, and you never wanted anything more.

‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤbut i’ll love you like you need me to, imperfect for you!

JASON TODD and ya’lls little gestures of love. those subtle touches, stolen kisses, clandestine whispers, and other acts of service.

like gently brushing away your hair when you’re rambling, or subconsciously reaching for your hand in any crowd. always willing to carry your bags, books and drinks. smiling at each other through the mirror when brushing your teeth, and reading together before bed.

(not so) begrudgingly allowing you to play with his hands. tracing over his tattoos when you’re bored, drawing invisible hearts on the inside of his palm. sometimes you tell him to close his eyes, and he has to guess what you’re writing or drawing.

kissing away your tears when you cry, kissing your frostbitten nose in the winter, kissing in the rain and in the sunshine. tending to his wounds, kissing his bruised knuckles and kissing just because you want to.

twirling you around in the kitchen to cheesy love songs, binge watching shitty rom coms and eating ice cream, nudging your shoulder and snickering at every corny joke. sneaking onto the couch beside him after an argument because even though he pisses you off, you still love him.

there are hello kitty stickers and lipstick stains on his motorcycle helmet. you made him a floral ashtray for the cigarettes you told him to stop smoking. books, candles and house plants attire your shared apartment. his bed and every piece of clothing smells like your perfume.

Ooii!! I'm Allaice, any pronouns <3

‐ If you want to send commissions you can send

— I will start writing headcanons !!

— My Twitter

✦ My tastes!!

Honkai Star Rail

– DC, Marvel

★ anime/mangas

— One piece, Jujutsu Kaisen, Dandadan, black clover.

★ manhwas/webtoon

— Ovr, Stepmother Marchen, Secret Lady, Trash of Count's Family, Purple Hyacinth.

— Percy Jackson & Harry Potter

Timeline (Black Clover)

– Headcanon of Ryuya Ryudo - BC (on going)

– Headcanon of Okarun - Dandadan