|The D.C Collection | Imagines, One-Shots, Preferences, and More |

In Those Moments | Jason Todd x Reader

Description: Jason Todd rants a lot more when he's relaxed.

Words: 1453

Notes: I legit have no idea where this came from...? But it's cute so whatever. Can't wait to hear your feedback!

Jason releases a sharp intake of air as his rant suddenly grinds to a halt. He's too scared to look up at you, to see the worry bleeding in your gaze, eyes darting anywhere but his face, embarrassed, disgusted, and shocked... all with him. He definitely said too much. "Too much" meaning the nightmares about his death, the reimaging of his return to the living, the forcefulness of his reanimation, the constant, constant laughter harmonizing with metal striking his back.

But your fingers working the soap into his hair don't cease. You briefly glanced down at him. When seeing that he wasn't looking back, you tried to force yourself in his line of vision. Jason stops mindlessly rippling the bubbly bath water you're both submerged in. You smile at him softly,"Keep going. It's fine."

"Nah. Forget it." Jason dismisses with a wave of his hand. His eyes flutter shut as you knead the shampoo into his scalp, soapy hands digging into his locks and ridding them of oil and grime. He sighs, a shuddery sound, and shakes his head,"I'm ruining our bath with my angst." Jason tried to smile. It didn't really work.

"This was meant for relaxation. You were relaxed enough to tell me," You shrugged,"But if you don't want to talk about it, that's fine too. Whatever makes you happy, my love."

Jason sighs again, soft and barely present. The feeling of the dirt leave his hair, your fingers combing through each lock, nails gently rolling down his scalp all combine to make the tense muscles of his body relax. He tries not to starting dozing with the comfortability when he speaks again,"Whatever makes you happy, my love." Jason quoted with a smile. He opens his eyes and admired yours,"I love the way you talk, Y/N L/N."

The candles bordering the bathtub lit your face with a heavenly honey glow, and it's not even your beauty that makes Jason's heart flutter. It's your words. Your infinite kindness and generosity that he knows he doesn't deserve, knows that no one else will give him. His lips part and everything he's ever wanted—ever needed—to say to you teases on the edge of his tongue. He closes his mouth in that stupidly, stubbornly, emotions-are-for-the-weakly way that Bruce and Gotham had drilled into him.

Maybe it's just how you are. You're the kind of person who had him take a "mental health day" from patrol and life in general, listened when he needed it, and gave him things he didn't deserve. Maybe it's also the fact that you're the lost princess of a war-raged alien planet, with the addition that your race worshiped love, healing magic, and helping people who needed it most. And that's certainly what Jason Todd is... someone who just needs a little healing.

"Thank you." You giggled. You slick his bubbles and hair back in a single even stroke, then took a cup of water and proceeded to wash out the clouds. Jason finds himself grinning. Without warning, coarse hands take hold of your hips, water sloshes over the edge of the tub, and Jason is leaning over you.

"How are you so perfect?" Jason questioned. He gave you one breath before he mercilessly attacked your sides, revealing at the shriek of happiness your produce. The water never settles with his rapid-fire movements. You tremble and shake and laugh, a beautiful laugh that makes Jason's chest empty of the dark, murky emotions brewing in his stomach. The negativity is replaced by a light airiness, and he starts giggling too.

"Jason!" You laugh happily,"Sto-stop! I can't—" Your thoughts are broken by a series of unrestrained giggles,"I can't breathe!" You coil around yourself protectively and try to pry his hands off of your sides. He pauses, pinning your arms to the bath's edge (a grip you could easily break out of, if you learned anything Diana and Koriand'r had taught you), eyes searching your face for more reasons to fall in love with you.

You grin so hard your cheeks blush and ache, and it slips into an at-ease and safe smile. You feel safe with him. Even pinned underneath him—him, a murderer, a liar, a traitor. Unknowingly, his thoughts had caused his grip to loosen. Slowly, like you were dealing with a startled wild animal than with a wet and naked man, you wind your arms around his neck.

"Why are you just staring at me, Jason?" You asked, palming his cheek. Jason can only shake his head and close his eyes, expelling whatever horrible self-hating thoughts he had brought down on himself. He bows his head and makes himself sensitive to your healing touch. Your fingers splay over his cheek, sloping with the shape of his skull, absent-mindedly strumming his bottom lip. Your other hand cups the base of his neck, wrapping around it protectively and soothingly massaging his skin.

He doesn't deserve you. He never will if he's going to do what's right. But somehow, for some reason, the universe decided that he deserved at least one good thing in his life. The stars looked down on Jason Todd and gave him at least that mercy. The mercy that was everything in a life so draining.

But then again, maybe this isn't a gift at all. Being Robin had been a gift in the beginning. Being Bruce Wayne's son had been too. But both those dreams and so many others had been torn from his hands, even if he clung to them until his nails were bleeding and his fingers were broken. What if this was just another game again? The world giving him a shred of hope, a beautiful ray of sun that lit up the darkness within him, only to take it without warning or foreshadowing. How would it happen this time? How cruel would it be? Would he have to watch the Joker break you the same way he had broken himself? Or worse—would he have to be the one to do the breaking?

Lips press against his own with the intent of comforting. The reflection of a darker world is shattered, but Jason still steps on the shards as he moves to reciprocate. The pain overflows and spills over the edges, eagerly swallowing you whole and giving you a glimpse, just a glimpse, at the eternal abyss of pain belonging to the Red Hood. His previous thoughts consume him and suddenly the stubborn urge to hide in the way Bruce taught him evaporates. Jason walks through the cloud of steam and kisses you back with the loving vibrancy of a dying man.

Large hands palm your back and squeeze the flesh, sinking you into the cool, tiled wall and body rolling with your own. Gradually do your lips part. They reconnect after a breath and the cycle continues, until you finally make sense of what Jason's whispering behind the sound of crashing water.

"I love you," Jason promised. You are quickly distracted with another kiss, one accompanied by every comment Jason wanted to make, every compliment and praise caught in his throat, the trillions of thank yous that, as a whole, can never truly amount to just how thankful he is. He spits out the most romantic thing he can think of,"You're my whole damn world, and I swear to whatever sonofabitch who's listening, I will never let anything bad happen to you, okay?"

Jason knows that he can do only so much to the prevent the inevitable. He says it anyway.

Jason inhales. He exhales.

When Jason opens his eyes, which he didn't even realized he closed, you're crying. His brow furrows and his mind grasps at whatever conclusions it can find; did he say something wrong? Did he say something else? Did he hurt you?

When you draw him in close, in the closest way you've ever gotten before, he knows that he has done nothing wrong. You are smiling. Blissfully so, in the way that always lit up the room and made Jason feel bad for not smiling. You nod, moreso to yourself than him,"I love you too."

You murmur a name that Jason can't understand, too foreign to be even a human language. But Jason has heard that tone come from you so many times and recognizes it immediately as your home-planets royal language. He knows so little about this kind of vocabulary he has no idea what the true definition of the word means. But judging by the way you cup his face, smiling at him and refer to him by it, it means something good.

Something romantic, something loving, something that Jason doesn't deserve to be called.