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aspiratinganxiety · 5 years

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Yay, requests are open! I had a hard time picking b/c those were some good ass prompts, but... "Person A lifting Person B up to reach the second floor railing from the first floor after someone tossed their stuff up there" with Jason, if you would, my dear. Doesn't necessarily have to be high school related, I'm not picky lol. Thanks in advance!

Yay, requests are open! I had a hard time picking b/c those were some good ass prompts, but… “Person A lifting Person B up to reach the second floor railing from the first floor after someone tossed their stuff up there” with Jason, if you would, my dear. Doesn’t necessarily have to be high school related, I’m not picky lol. Thanks in advance!

I am all too happy to fill this prompt for you! Thank you so much for the opportunity. You are a wonderful friend and such an encouraging presence in my life. I love you dearly, and I just want you to know that I appreciate you.

Tag List: @nxttime, @possiblyelven, @thepuckishrogue, @jinkies-its-a-writer (If you want to be tagged, let me know! For more fics, check out my masterlist.)

Also gonna say here that my requests are open again for a limited time! I’ve hit 500 followers (fucking wow!), and I’m including NSFW works for this round of requests. Go to my blog and request some more things from me!

When Jason says there aren’t any good footholds up to your backpack, you assume that’s the end of it. Your friend’s big brother had followed you into the stairwell, tried to help, couldn’t, and now it’s time to report your own idiot brother to the office. School’s been out for less than an hour. Surely one staff member is still around to unlock a door up to the second story.

Jason, however, comes to a different conclusion.

You are a step and a half lower when the mountain of human at your back snags you by the armpits and unceremoniously hefts you up onto one of his shoulders. Like any normal person lifted more than five feet with no warning, you shriek. Limbs flailing in all directions as you’re benched on the juncture of his arm, you ache where his hands clutched your squirming torso.

“Jesus, kid,” a wry Jason says as you struggle. It’s only when your knee knocks into his cheek that all amusement leaves his tone. “Oi! Watch it.”

You yelp, ignoring the young man you’d mistaken for a friend while frantically scrabbling for the railing. “Don’t drop me! Don’t drop me! What is wrong with you?”

“Are you kidding me?” he growls, exasperated when your leg tags his face for a second time.

Jason slaps a firm grip on your knee, using his own knuckles as a poor shield for the cheek suffering your unintentional battering. One arm barred over the band where your thighs become your hips like a vice, Jason knows that you’re locked against his shoulder just fine. If you’d stop thrashing, you’d realize it too.

“Grab your shit and let’s get out of here,” he says, unable to see how close you are to the prize as your torso blocks his view. “Tim’s probably been waiting for us at the car.”

You wail petulantly, eyes clamped shut. Heights terrify you. Just lingering five steps up made you feel like you were navigating a complicated mass of even little cliffs. You stared at your feet when you took the stairs every Tuesday and Thursday, and you’d shown up two hours early at the beginning of the year so that you could make your schedule with as many classes on the first floor as possible.

Out of nowhere, Tim’s voice asks, “Tim’s where?”

He’s up above you, leaning over the second floor railing and flashing Jason a smug grin that quickly wilts as he takes in the scene below him.

Jason huffs. His tone is flat as a platter. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Some rational part of you notes that Tim is on the second floor. This is a good thing. He can rescue your book-bag, and his giant brother can put you back on the ground. Instead of asking for any of these actions to take place, you squeeze your eyes closed again and cry, “Help!”

“She’s afraid of heights, Jason,” Tim explains. You’re not entirely sure what transpires, but the words come from beside Jason in the stairwell. Your curiosity gets the better of you, and you peep the nearest eye open to see that Tim has hopped down next to his brother with your backpack in hand. “Please put my friend down.”

“Please!” you echo, paradoxically clinging onto the railing up above all the more fiercely. Your stomach feels like it’s puckered into a sour, shriveled prune and is trying to creep up your throat.

Jason mumbles something unintelligible, washed in a quick flash of guilt. It’s like he’s gone and put a kitten up a tree, and now there’s no way to slide her down without grossly adjusting her uniform in an inappropriate way. He assesses the situation for another solution. He doesn’t find one.

The older brother goes contrite where he had been irritated. “I uh- I maybe didn’t think this one through, Timbo.”

A panicked sound escapes past your wandering stomach as it dawns on you that you’re in less than capable hands.

Tim walks away, having foreseen the embarrassing turn this scenario was likely to take. “You’re not kidding, Jason,” he calls back over his shoulder with a bark of incredulous laughter.

“Welp, sorry, sweetheart.” Jason accepts the inevitable and moves his hands to either of your hips. When your weight is balanced in his palms instead of on his shoulder, he instructs you. “You’ve got to let go when I tell you to, okay?”

Whimpering an assent, you loosen your grip and do your best to disassociate from the entire debacle. No amount of effort, however, keeps you from noticing the trill that shoots up your spine to feel the way he’s holding you.

The closest you’ve ever been to a dude is sitting next to Tim, and that doesn’t count anymore than being on a couch with your brother. Your sweet lil’ mind simply cannot process that there’s an undeniably handsome twenty-something in a leather jacket with his hands literally up your skirt.

Considering it too closely kinda’ makes you want to die a little bit. Or maybe burst into song?

Today too, of all days, you hadn’t hiked on a pair of tights to go under your uniform.

When Jason’s got one foot planted on the higher stair behind him, he gives the signal. “Now!” he says, working quickly to direct your fall.

You drop, forcing yourself to focus on the sensation of strong hands running down your thighs and locking in the crooks behind your knees. Your back slams against his broad chest, and it’s hard to breathe with your belly folded so tightly. Your knees are parallel with your shoulders, and you don’t even want to think about the humiliating way that your legs are splayed.

“Down!” you demand. “Put me down, now.”

“Right.” Jason lowers himself closer to the ground and drops your legs one at a time to be sure of your footing. “Again, that was my bad.”

#jason todd #red hood #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #reader insert #prompt #ask #aspirating anxiety writes #batcanon by beth #thepuckishrogue #surprise appearance of tim drake?

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