letsstargaze - Tumblr blog

[letsstargaze]

Damian: crushes are the worst

y/n: right? i tend to act stupid around mine

Jason: you always act stupid

y/n: yeah, don't think too hard about that

[letsstargaze]

Your writing is so damn good, you execute every request perfectly 😭

Could you maybe write something where Dick's insecure partner wants to break up with him because their self-image is getting worse cause they feel they can't catch up to the Golden Boy reputation, superheroes, billionaires and so on?

hi, thanks for the request! I hope I did it justice :) a brief interlude from jaytodd before we return to our regularly scheduled program lol

dick grayson x gn!reader. low self esteem, an almost breakup, reader feeling insecure, threatened, sad. happy ending! 2.1k words

****

You've been tugging at your outfit for ten minutes. At this rate, you'll have to concede that this is as good as it's going to get.

"My love, you almost ready?"

You sigh and watch your reflection fold its arms.

"Yeah," you say softly. "'M ready."

The door opens. Your heart swoops.

Dick is beautiful, as usual. Your boyfriend can do a lot, including fill a suit. Both your and his outfits were tailor-made because that's one of the perks of being the son of a billionaire.

Over and over, you'd insisted you could wear off-the-rack, and over and over, Dick had said that was silly, that Bruce wouldn't mind.

And it's true that what you're wearing flatters you better than anything from Macy's or Marshall's would've. But you know it won't help tonight. Not in a room full of Gotham's elite.

"Just as I suspected," Dick says, immediately draping his arms over your hips. "You're gonna steal the show tonight."

He's lying.

That voice in your head has gotten louder recently, and you don't know how to turn it off.

You kiss him instead of responding. Dick enthusiastically reciprocates, always delighted when you touch him. You used to think it would be enough.

But ever since you found out that not only are you dating a billionaire philanthropist with a face that makes angels weep, but that said guy is also arguably the most beloved hero in Gotham, maybe second only to the Batman (who's his freaking dad?!), you've begun to have doubts.

You pull back. Dick's tie perfectly sets off his eyes. They're bright as they look at you.

"Everything okay?" he asks, brushing your cheek with his thumb.

"Uh-huh," you say, trying to smile. "Just nervous."

“Hey, it's alright. I'll be by your side all night. I'll save you from any and all small talk, promise." He winks. "And we can duck out early, get hot chocolate from that place you like. They won't care."

Dick's always doing that. Always catering to you. You're just some nobody who happened to stumble into the best relationship you’ve ever had with a golden god.

Dick never reminds you of that. That he could do better. He doesn't have to—you know it all on your own.

You swallow. “Okay. If you're sure. I... I would like to leave early, Gray."

“‘Course, baby,” Dick says, attaching his cuff links. "Anything you want."

You turn back to the mirror, wondering if you can reinvent your personality before you go and remind everyone what a mistake Dick Grayson has made in choosing you. 

****

The party is tasteful, though a little stuffy. You're only here because Dick is going to give a speech, and he asked you to come support him. And while you know it's better for him to go without you so you won't dull his shine, it seems Dick hasn't quite figured that out.  

You hold onto Dick’s arm as he makes his usual rounds. Dick doesn't enjoy these events, you know that, but he's fluid in his interactions. There is no doubt he’s Bruce Wayne’s prodigy. With his suit, his hair, his easy posture, Dick is almost unrecognizable from when you woke up with him this morning. 

He's in his element. All you can do is peer in and watch. 

Dick leans in and slips a hand around your waist after the fourth interaction with a donor. A donor who, again, acted like Dick may as well have been dragging around a coat rack with how intently they ignored you. Not that you give a shit about what the one percent have to say about you, except sometimes they say a lot of mean things, things you're pretty sure they don't let Dick overhear, and sometimes you start wondering if Dick is the only person who can't see truth in what they say, and sometimes—

“Hey.” Dick leans in to talk in your ear. He's warm and solid. You wish that was a comfort. “You okay?”

You're exhausted. 

“Uh-hmm.”

He is going to wake up one of these days and realize he can have it so much better. 

Dick moves like he's about to say more, pull you closer and permeate your senses with his gold.

“Dickie!” 

Sweet, tinkling laughter echoes across the room. The crowd parts for this new woman, an obvious socialite, dressed to the nines and gorgeous. 

Her dress matches Dick's tie. You feel sick.

When she reaches you two, she wastes no time grabbing Dick and kissing his cheek. He extricates himself from her, like he's done a million times before with everyone else who thinks they're entitled to a piece of Dick Grayson. He shoots you an apologetic look. You look away.

“My God, it’s been what, ten years?” she says. Then she sees you. “Oh! Where are my manners? I’m Caroline Banesbury, Duchess of Middlesworth. I heard the Dickie Grayson was going to be here, and I had to come.”

“Been a while,” Dick says, smiling blandly. “How are you, Caroline?”

“Spectacular! Father just bought another castle. You should come and see it sometime.” She plucks a flute of champagne off of a passing tray and smiles behind the rim of the glass. 

“Dick and I go way back,” she says, gaze roving over him. “I hear you're transforming Blüdhaven. Taking a page out of Bruce's book, hm? You always had a big heart, Dickie.” 

She grabs his arm and links it with hers. You sigh and take a sip of your own drink. You half-wish Poison Ivy would come in and gas the room or something.

Dick clears his throat and maneuvers out of her grip once more, letting go of her with a light pat. He returns to you, snugly holding your shoulders.

"This is my partner," he says about you.

Caroline hums, looking over you. "I see. Pleasure."

You nod. She turns back to Dick.

“If I can be of any help to your project, you let me know,” she adds, glancing down at where her empty arm now hangs at her side. “Anything.” 

“That's generous of you, Carrie.” 

Dick and I go way back.

Oh. Right. You're stupid. They've dated. 

“We should have dinner,” she continues. “Catch up. I'm dying to know what Gotham's darling has been up to.”

“I feel sick,” you announce. 

Dick and Caroline turn to you. Caroline looks perplexed, like you've just said you like to chew concrete. 

“Oh, I'm sorry to hear that,” she says, hardly sparing you a glance. "Perhaps you ought to lie down."

You feel Dick's eyes on you. If you don't leave soon, he'll know you're lying. Possibly the worst part about dating Batman's protégé.

Suddenly, leaving this hall is the most important thing you've ever had to do. You feel like you'll die if you don't.

Your feet start moving.

"Baby—"

Anyway, this is Caroline's chance. She can swoop in with her trust fund and while you think Dick can do way better than her—he can always do better—anyone is better than you. For Dick Grayson, who has been a master acrobat since he was a child, son of Batman, leader of the Titans, indubitably intelligent, capable, beautiful, the best goddamn guy you'll ever know—

You've lost your way. You're out of the gala, away from duchesses and doom. And you meant to get your coat but this hall that Bruce rented is enormous. You've no idea where you are. But you're alone.

Bruce must've known too, how unfit you are for his son. And why wouldn't he tell Dick? Unless Dick ignored him, because Dick, for all his smarts, is stupidly in love with you, thinks you're where he should put his heart, is certain you won't fumble and drop it.

Warm, callused fingers catch your wrist and you remember, suddenly, Dick telling you once, after you'd nearly stumbled into the street, that he'd never let you fall.

You meet his eyes. Why does he look at you like that? Who gave him the right to look at you like-like you—as if you could ever deserve—

"Hey," he says, squeezes your hand. "Hey, hey. What's going on?"

Dick Grayson is not a trusting man but he trusts you and good God, you're about to break him.

"I need to break up with you," you blurt.

"What?" he breathes. "What—why would you say that?"

You wish he'd give you the slip he gave everyone in that room, gently separate your arm from his hand. You never learned how to evade Dick's touch.

"Because it's true. Dick, please understand—"

"No, I'm trying to understand. Because yesterday—no, tonight, you were fine—"

"No, Dick, I wasn't fine! I haven't been fine in months!"

You wrench your arm away. He looks like you slapped him.

"You know anybody I talk to in there means nothing, right? You know that, honey." He's pleading.

You curl your fist into your eye. "It's more than that, Gray."

"Then tell me what the problem is," he says desperately. "Tell me and we'll fix it. I promise we can fix it."

"You can't!" you say, voice cracking. "You can't fix me."

Dick shakes his head. "I don't—"

"Why can't you let me break up with you with a little bit of dignity?" you ask. "Do you have to be better at this too?"

"I don't want to break up," he says, tugging at a handful of his hair. "This doesn't make sense. We're happy. You're happy, aren't you? Don't I make you happy?"

"Of course," you choke out. "Of course you make me happy. But you don't see I'm bad for you. You're wonderful and perfect and golden, Dick. And I'm a stain. I need to be scrubbed away."

"Wh—that's not true!"

"Everywhere we go, people see me with you and are immediately confused. I'm not a superhero, I'm not royalty, I'm not a socialite, and yet somehow I've managed to snag Gotham's darling. This is a mistake. I'm trying to do you a favor and wake you up!"

Dick's face is hard with anger. How could you have thought this would be easy?

"I don't need to be woken up! What is it that makes you think I have no agency over the people I choose to spend time with? Everyone I meet thinks they're entitled to touch me, demand me. Everyone but you. You, the person I chose to love, who I love everyday. Do you think you pulled the wool over my eyes and you're snapping me out of it? Is that what you really think?"

And isn't this the most puzzling thing? That he's not sad or gently accepting; Dick is mad.

"I just—" He runs a hand through his hair. "I don't mean to yell, but really, I can't bear it if you see me as some god on a pedestal, unattainable and inhuman, like everyone else sees me. I love you on purpose."

"You're so accomplished, though," you say weakly. "You're..." You wave your hand over him. "You're fucking Nightwing, D. You were Robin, you have superheroes for friends, Batman for a parent, you're beloved by, like, all of Jersey—"

"My love, you know those are just parts of me. You see all of me. You know me. And that's not a one-way privilege, okay? I'm so damn lucky to know you, to love you, to be with you, to fight with you. To fight for you. Knowing you isn't something I take for granted."

"But I'm boring," you say, tears spilling over. "Jesus Christ, Dick, I'm plain and untalented, barely a dime to my name, so painfully ordinary that—"

"Listen to me," he says, taking your face in his hands. "Flying around or shooting lasers out of your eyes, sure, it's cool, and it's helpful for taking down an alien dictator. But I don't need you to do any of that, honey. I don't need nor want you to be anyone but you. I wasn't tricked or swindled into loving you. We caught each other halfway, just like we were meant to."

You let him pull you into his arms, let him press your tear stains to his silk pocket square, let his hair fall around you.

His embrace is solid, firm, but when he inhales, his shoulders shake.

"Do you—" He swallows, throat against yours. "Do you still want to break up?"

His heart beats against your cheek.

"I'm just afraid you'll get tired of me," you whisper. "Bored. Annoyed."

"I won't," he whispers. "You're the least boring person ever. It's never boring to be loved."

You squeeze your eyes shut. Dick's warmth encloses you.

"No, I don't want to break up. I'm sorry."

He holds you tighter, and you realize you never had to match Dick's tie. Not when you've got his heart.

[letsstargaze]

sunset anew | dick grayson

Summary: You're a little nervous to become the Mrs. Grayson. Luckily, your husband-to-be knows just what to say to soothe your worries. 

Pairing: Dick Grayson x fem!reader 

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings/tags: wedding, anxious reader, the batfam actually gets along, fluff!! (dick is my wife.)

If you like this fic and want to see more, please let me know through reblogs ♡

the divider

Contrary to popular belief, Gotham isn't a complete eyesore. 

Sure, it's no vacation spot, and it's probably not the ideal place to settle down. But there are beautiful parts within the grunge. 

Your wedding planner had shown you multiple locations, from Napa to the Bahamas. Bruce had insisted cost was no problem.

But that wasn't what made you choose Gotham. 

Your forearms rest on the polished stone-top railing that surrounds the rooftop of the nicest hotel in the city. Thirty-two floors, all rented out for you. 

You look down at the tiny cars and people below. Your heart swoops. 

Your heels are in one hand. The sun crests the horizon; soon, yellow will melt into buttery orange and pink. It’s the first sunset you knew. The only sunset you know. And it’s the same one you saw the first time you met your almost-husband.

You'd come up here so you wouldn't miss it. Just this one time.

“Found her!”

You jump as the roof access door opens. Damian and Duke walk out. Duke gives you a warm smile.

"Jesus, you guys," you say, hand on your chest. “Way to scare a girl.”

“Sorry. You look really nice,” Duke says, smoothing his bowtie. 

Damian crosses his arms, clearly unimpressed.

“Frightening you is the least of our concerns. We thought you’d run. Which would be understandable, considering the family you’re marrying into, but Father spent a lot renting the hotel. Plus, Grayson would’ve been inconsolable, and extremely annoying.”

“Dude,” Duke says, elbowing Damian. “Chill out. It’s not like she was actually going to leave him at the altar.” He squints at you. “Were you?”

“No! I wasn’t going to leave him at the altar, oh my God.”

Damian nods. “Good." He taps his watch and speaks into it. "Grayson, our work is done. Come to the roof.”

Duke gives you a wave and they wordlessly leave the way they came. You sigh and start to slip your heels back on. There’s some whispering at the bottom of the stairs, and Damian shouts “no!” before it’s silent. 

You have one heel on when Dick emerges.

He’s unfairly handsome in his tux, hair somehow both neat and tousled. He also has what looks to be Damian’s tie wrapped around his eyes. You step out of your heel, unsure.

"Hey, sweetheart," he says, sounding genuinely apologetic. "Sorry about that. Didn't mean to scare you."

"It’s okay, baby. Why are you blindfolded?"

"Bad luck to see the bride, duh."

You can't help your idiotic grin at that. "I think it'll be fine, Gray. You didn’t have to take his tie.”

"Maybe you haven't met my family; we're not known for our good luck streaks.”

"I'm madly in love with you,” you say, feeling gooey.

Dick beams, and you nearly forget about the sunset altogether. 

"I'm madly in love with you too." 

You kiss him and he blindly returns it, following your lips even after you step back. You cluck your tongue and nudge him away. He obeys, though not without sliding his hand onto your waist and tugging you away from the roof. You follow because he's such a worrier.

Dick reaches for your hand and squeezes. 

"You okay?" he asks.

"Yeah. Sorry I disappeared. I didn’t know the calvary would be sent after me.”

“Yeah, uh…” Dick rubs the back of his neck. “Sorry about that. Again. I got worried.”

The guilt sinks its claws deeper. You frown and touch his cheek. 

“I would never leave you at the altar, Dick.”

“I know! I know that. They’re idiots; don’t listen to ‘em, whatever they said."

You cup his face with both hands and kiss him again. He squeezes your wrists and you can feel the relief rolling off him in waves, as much as he tries to hide it. 

“Was my absence noticeable?” you ask.

"Just to us. Don’t worry about it. The Wayne family are professional crowd entertainers."

"I take it Bruce is doing card tricks?"

"Yep,” Dick says. “He’s pretty good too. Might retire the suit." 

You laugh. "Sorry I'm missing it."

"Trust me, you'll get your fill soon."

“We can go down now,” you offer, even though you’re still waiting for that sunset. 

He shakes his head. “There’s no rush.”

You smile and rest your head on Dick's shoulder. He accepts you instantly and wraps his arm around your waist.

"You feel really beautiful," he says. 

"Charmer."

"I'm serious!"

"I know. That's why I'm so damn sweet on you, Gray."

"I've got a shot with you, then?" he asks. 

"Oh, big time." 

He nuzzles your neck. You breathe in his scent: wine from earlier, detergent, the hair gel he uses to effortlessly capture the bed head look. 

"We didn't have to do this today, you know,” he says, voice vibrating through you. 

You pick your head up in alarm. 

"What're you talking about?" 

"If-if you're getting cold feet, I mean," he adds. "Second thoughts. We can always reschedule."

"Dick, no, I'm not getting second thoughts. I want to marry you today. I will marry you, okay? We've been together for almost four years."

"So? You know how long Batman and Catwoman have been skirting around each other? We've all got a wager going. Including Alfred!"

You snort. "Okay, well, excuse me if I don't want your family to bet on how long it's going to take us to marry."

"Afraid that ship's sailed."

"Of course it has."

You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him in. His arms drape over your hips. You trace the shape of his lips with your index, up his Cupid's bow and up the tip of his nose. Dick has such a lovely nose. You've always thought so. 

“So who bet that I’d actually made a run for it?”

“That feels like a trick question,” he says. 

“Jason?"

“Jason adores you, actually. He didn’t doubt your loyalty once.”

“Damian had his doubts." 

“Damian's thirteen, he doesn’t know shit.”

You snort and kiss his cheek. “Well, I forgive him. He was protecting you, that’s all.”

"If it helps, everyone else was certain of your loyalty," Dick says, letting you paw at his face. “Myself included.”

"That does help, actually.”

Dick stops your hand in its journey and rests your palm on his cheek. 

"What were you thinking about?" he asks quietly. 

You stiffen a little. "Nothing. Just needed some air."

"You sure?" 

You know what he's doing: feeling your pulse to see if it changes, listening to your breathing, watching if your shoulders tense. He's a detective first, and a damn good one. 

You slump in defeat. 

"What if I'm not… good at this? At being… us?”

"What?" Dick asks in disbelief. "What are you talking about? Of course you’ll be good at it. The real worry is me, babe. I mean, you're incredible. I'm the one who runs around in spandex at night." 

"Gray, I'm serious," you say, resting your head on his heart. "All those people who’ve been watching us, waiting for the future Mrs. Grayson to slip up. I just—I can't help but wonder if it's prophetic. I wonder if maybe you deserve more." 

"Hey. Now I can't predict the future. But even if I could, I don't believe there is a timeline out there where I could ever want or need anyone but you. And you're not alone in this, you know? I'm scared too. I'm terrified I'm putting you in danger. Of fucking up completely. But I also know that sometimes… we get good things, you know? It's not all doom and gloom. I mean, you being in my life is proof of that." 

God, he always knows how to make your heart ache just right. 

"I really want us to work," you whisper, clutching his suit coat. "I just don't wanna let you down, Gray." 

"Baby," Dick says, curling around you. "Sweetheart, where did this come from? What makes you think that? You've never let me down, not once. I love you. It's okay if you feel like you don't know what you're doing, 'cause I don't know either." 

You reach to untie the tie. Dick lightly grabs your hand, but you continue to tug anyway. 

"Wait, babe—"

"Dick, it's okay. I want to see your eyes. Please?" 

He lets you pull it off. He squints at the light, adjusting. Then his gaze drops to you and his lips part.

"Wow," Dick says, hands sliding up your arms. 

You smile. "Like it? Selina helped me pick the dress, so it's all thanks to her."

"Fuck, baby. I wanna marry you right now. Screw everyone down there. Let's elope."

You laugh, combing back his hair with your fingertips and tucking loose strands behind his ears. 

"Gray, you know we can't do that. What about Bruce? He'd be devastated and more than rightfully pissed."

He shrugs. "So what? I'm the favorite, I can get away with it."

"Well, what about Alfred? You'd break his heart."

Dick pauses, mulling that over. You kiss his chin. 

"Damn it," he says. "You're right. I couldn't do that to him. He's arguably more excited about our wedding than we are." 

"Mmhm. But I appreciate your attempt to be spontaneously romantic," you say, smiling. 

Dick tugs you closer still, rubbing your back. 

"I would elope," he says. "If you really wanted to. You could convince me to do just about anything. Even if it unleashed Alfie's wrath."

"Don't tell me that," you chide playfully. "You'll give a girl all sorts of notions." 

"Oh, I'm counting on it."

Dick starts to kiss up your neck and you happily let him, eyes slipping closed. It's good, until—

THUMP!

You jump. Dick immediately pushes you behind him. 

The roof access door swings out so hard it slams against the wall. Jason glares, bowtie already loosened. 

"Are you fucking kidding me? You're gonna miss your own wedding, dumbass!" He nods at you. "Hey, future sis. Looking good." 

"Thanks, Todd." 

"Mm. Everything okay?" 

You smile. "Everything's wonderful."

"Yeah, I'm okay too, thanks," Dick says, scowling. 

"I know you're fine, idiot. Now come put a ring on it before Alfred hunts you down himself." 

Jason turns on his heel, shaking his head. "Responsible one, my ass…"

You look at Dick, grinning. 

"Seems like we should go do the marriage thing," you say.

"Seems like." He squeezes your hip. "Do you feel better?"

"Yeah, Gray. I do. Thanks. I love you."

"Love you too, baby. Let's go marry the hell out of each other." 

The sunset has morphed into a violet night. But you don't mind that you missed it; you know there will be countless sunsets to come. 

[letsstargaze]

temptation | jason todd

Summary: Still unsure about where you stand with your knight, you tiptoe around each other. Then you find him in a compromising position and learn more than you imagined ever knowing.

Pairing: knight!Jason Todd x AFAB!reader (no pronouns used)

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings/tags: smut 18+ only, male masturbation, voyeurism (dubcon because jason doesn't know he's being watched but jason very much wants the reader), whipping, self-flagellation, religious themes and guilt, breeding kink, somewhat submissive jason. arranged marriage themes. reader has been forced to live with jason.

A/N: i continue to be insane about knight jaytodd :)

the divider

Despite the lack of communication, a routine has been established between you and Jason.

Sometimes you cook, sometimes he cooks. Sometimes he goes to the market, sometimes you do.

Lately you've taken to doing the washing in the brook nearby. The summer heat makes the water refreshing. A few times, while Jason was away, you went upstream to play in the river. You don't know why you hid that from him. He does the same thing when he goes to bathe. You think about that every time—specifically, you remember the glimpse of his bare chest and broad shoulders.

It feels strange and maybe a little perverted to go to the river while Jason's home and think about his body. So you wait until he's out.

The house is empty. You've returned early from the market, so you carry the basket of dirty clothes to the brook.

And about halfway down the path, you hear it. Quick, choppy breaths.

You set down the basket and hide behind a tree. You peek first, not knowing what to expect. An animal? An intruder?

You see black curls, then the side profile of a sharp nose, a flushed cheek, parted lips.

Jason's shirt is untucked, shirt tails carelessly in the mud. His trousers have been shoved down. He's standing beside a tree, back to the water.

In his hand is his cock.

You've never seen one up close before. It looks big, even in Jason's already big hand. The tip is a deep crimson, slick with precum.

Jason's sounds are tight. You can barely hear him, but from the way he strokes himself, you see that he's very aroused.

"God, for–forgive me," he whispers, and speeds up. "I have given into t-temptation, ngh."

You squeeze your legs together, confused and alarmed by what the sight does to you. You can't tear your eyes from his hand and the thatch of hair peeking underneath his fist every time he moves.

You imagine him pushing into you. How full you would feel! And of course, impregnation. No doubt that Jason would impregnate you quickly.

Where would he take you? He's such a solemn, quiet man. You don't know if he'd take you anywhere but in his bed, between the sheets. Slowly, gently.

But as you watch him stroke himself, abuse himself and tug his cock hard, the thought of Jason taking you roughly flashes through your mind.

You'd like to be bent over in the kitchen, perhaps. Fucked on the table. You can hear its creaking as Jason thrusts into you, how he'd have to stop and steady himself so as not to snap the legs in two. He would pet your neck, your face, apologize as he wrecked you. And you would forgive him because he wouldn't be able to help it; all rational thought would leave your sweet knight once he pushed his fat cock into you.

You'd give him easy access that night. Serve his dinner and, in a moment of forgetfulness, bend down and show your puffy cunt, ready for him to push into.

You imagine how he'd stiffen, how he'd inhale sharply and pretend not to notice. Would he play with your cunt if you begged? Spread you across his lap and finger you until you shook with desire? Your beautiful knight, who so intently protects your honor. You'd give him your honor and more.

The sound of your name pulls you out of your head. Panic lances through you; have you been caught?

But no, Jason is still flushed and unaware. His eyes are a little wet. He says your name again and thrusts into his hand. More tears run down his cheeks.

"Forgive me," he says, then comes.

He's louder as he comes. He bites the soft curve of his thumb to muffle his sounds. Long spurts of seed coat his hand, and Jason soon forgoes muffling his moans and instead covers his cock with both hands to contain his release. But it's so much that it leaks through his fingers, dribbling onto his pants and into the dirt. He cries the entire time, cheeks dark. Eventually, the cries become high, sticky whines. He leans against a tree, cock soft.

Jason would breed you in the first go. You understand this. It's certain he would refuse you, were you brave enough to proposition him. You would be heavy with his child within the week.

He turns his head and you quickly duck behind the tree, holding your breath. You pray he hasn't seen you.

But Jason rustles in the grass after a moment, so you relax. You wish you could show yourself but whatever this is between you two is delicate and strange and won't be cured with sex. It won't.

You go further than normal and wash the clothes there, taking over an hour. You splash yourself with water before making the trek back to the house.

Jason isn't there when you return, so you hang the laundry alone, dreaming about a hot mouth on your neck and fingers inside of you.

You awaken the next morning to the sound of a whip.

The first time fades into the background. But the next three lashes make you get out of bed.

There's no sound that follows the lashes, which is the oddest part. No whinnies or animal squeals.

You go out barefooted, dirt already warm from the sun. Jason is in the yard.

In his right hand is the whip. On his back are four thin, bloody welts.

"Jason!" you say, hurrying to the yard.

He turns his head at the sound of your voice. Then he turns around and whips himself three more times in succession.

Your eyes widen. You grab his wrist with both hands, pulling hard. Jason drops the whip and stumbles back, slipping out of your grip.

He looks at you wide-eyed, chest heaving.

"I'm sorry," he says. "Have I... did I wake you?"

"Yes, of course you woke me! Why are you doing that?"

He immediately looks wracked with guilt. You soften, upset at yourself for being so harsh and frightened by your boldness. Have you forgotten your place so easily?

Then again, Jason's not so good at keeping you in your place either.

"It's alright that you woke me," you say. "I'm not angry about that."

Jason shakes his head. "I should've been quieter. Self-punishment deserves no spectator."

"Why are you punishing yourself?"

"Because I—" He shakes his head. "I have sinned. I have been... selfish. Desired things that aren't mine to want."

You reach for him, comfort like an instinct. Jason backs away.

"Please," he says, chest heaving. "Please don't touch me. I beg you."

His words sting. You drop your hand.

"You don't need to punish yourself," you say carefully. "You've done nothing wrong. You've... you've been nothing but kind to me."

Jason shakes his head. "If you knew..."

His eyes sweep over your body. You watch as guilt overtakes him.

"I have lost sight of my duty. I must overcome my desires."

"You're allowed to have desires," you say.

"Not these," he says heavily.

You watch him for a moment. He stares unseeingly in the distance. Blood from his back drips on the ground.

You take a deep breath and pull down one shoulder of your night shirt. Then you pull the other. Jason's head darts back. His eyebrows go to his hairline.

Neither of you move for a moment. Then you pull your shirt down further. Air hits your skin. You're almost to your nipples.

You look at Jason. He swallows hard and tries to angle his body away from you. It doesn't work. You stare openly at his bulge. Just the suggestion of your body gets him hard and ready.

"I'm sorry," he says, eyes wet. "Please—God, please forgive me."

Something alights in you at the thought of Jason's obedience. He may think his capacity to breed is a sin, but his body can't help but react. He's ashamed of how quickly his cock fattens, eager to spurt.

You wonder if he'd hardened shortly after he came yesterday afternoon. If he'd cried in embarrassment at how fast his body betrayed him, demanding he release his desire.

Even after a whipping, he's hard for you. Would he still be hard if you were the one holding the whip? Would he come if you struck him?

You pull down your shirt and release one breast. The air hardens your nipple.

Jason whines low in his throat, strangled and desperate.

"Please," he whispers. "Take mercy."

This is insanity. What will you do? Strip and have him take you in the mud?

Truthfully, you'd much rather he shamefully comes in the dirt. Even if it is a waste of seed. You like how dark his cheeks get.

So, you stop. Jason looks to the sky, likely praying for forgiveness.

"I'm going to make tea," you say, shirt still lowered.

He nods, body tight with tension. You walk across the yard and back inside. Then you pull up your shirt and prepare tea.

As the water boils, the whip whistles through the air six more times.

[letsstargaze]

temptation | jason todd

Summary: Still unsure about where you stand with your knight, you tiptoe around each other. Then you find him in a compromising position and learn more than you imagined ever knowing.

Pairing: knight!Jason Todd x AFAB!reader (no pronouns used)

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings/tags: smut 18+ only, male masturbation, voyeurism (dubcon because jason doesn't know he's being watched but jason very much wants the reader), whipping, self-flagellation, religious themes and guilt, breeding kink, somewhat submissive jason. arranged marriage themes. reader has been forced to live with jason.

A/N: i continue to be insane about knight jaytodd :)

the divider

Despite the lack of communication, a routine has been established between you and Jason.

Sometimes you cook, sometimes he cooks. Sometimes he goes to the market, sometimes you do.

Lately you've taken to doing the washing in the brook nearby. The summer heat makes the water refreshing. A few times, while Jason was away, you went upstream to play in the river. You don't know why you hid that from him. He does the same thing when he goes to bathe. You think about that every time—specifically, you remember the glimpse of his bare chest and broad shoulders.

It feels strange and maybe a little perverted to go to the river while Jason's home and think about his body. So you wait until he's out.

The house is empty. You've returned early from the market, so you carry the basket of dirty clothes to the brook.

And about halfway down the path, you hear it. Quick, choppy breaths.

You set down the basket and hide behind a tree. You peek first, not knowing what to expect. An animal? An intruder?

You see black curls, then the side profile of a sharp nose, a flushed cheek, parted lips.

Jason's shirt is untucked, shirt tails carelessly in the mud. His trousers have been shoved down. He's standing beside a tree, back to the water.

In his hand is his cock.

You've never seen one up close before. It looks big, even in Jason's already big hand. The tip is a deep crimson, slick with precum.

Jason's sounds are tight. You can barely hear him, but from the way he strokes himself, you see that he's very aroused.

"God, for–forgive me," he whispers, and speeds up. "I have given into t-temptation, ngh."

You squeeze your legs together, confused and alarmed by what the sight does to you. You can't tear your eyes from his hand and the thatch of hair peeking underneath his fist every time he moves.

You imagine him pushing into you. How full you would feel! And of course, impregnation. No doubt that Jason would impregnate you quickly.

Where would he take you? He's such a solemn, quiet man. You don't know if he'd take you anywhere but in his bed, between the sheets. Slowly, gently.

But as you watch him stroke himself, abuse himself and tug his cock hard, the thought of Jason taking you roughly flashes through your mind.

You'd like to be bent over in the kitchen, perhaps. Fucked on the table. You can hear its creaking as Jason thrusts into you, how he'd have to stop and steady himself so as not to snap the legs in two. He would pet your neck, your face, apologize as he wrecked you. And you would forgive him because he wouldn't be able to help it; all rational thought would leave your sweet knight once he pushed his fat cock into you.

You'd give him easy access that night. Serve his dinner and, in a moment of forgetfulness, bend down and show your puffy cunt, ready for him to push into.

You imagine how he'd stiffen, how he'd inhale sharply and pretend not to notice. Would he play with your cunt if you begged? Spread you across his lap and finger you until you shook with desire? Your beautiful knight, who so intently protects your honor. You'd give him your honor and more.

The sound of your name pulls you out of your head. Panic lances through you; have you been caught?

But no, Jason is still flushed and unaware. His eyes are a little wet. He says your name again and thrusts into his hand. More tears run down his cheeks.

"Forgive me," he says, then comes.

He's louder as he comes. He bites the soft curve of his thumb to muffle his sounds. Long spurts of seed coat his hand, and Jason soon forgoes muffling his moans and instead covers his cock with both hands to contain his release. But it's so much that it leaks through his fingers, dribbling onto his pants and into the dirt. He cries the entire time, cheeks dark. Eventually, the cries become high, sticky whines. He leans against a tree, cock soft.

Jason would breed you in the first go. You understand this. It's certain he would refuse you, were you brave enough to proposition him. You would be heavy with his child within the week.

He turns his head and you quickly duck behind the tree, holding your breath. You pray he hasn't seen you.

But Jason rustles in the grass after a moment, so you relax. You wish you could show yourself but whatever this is between you two is delicate and strange and won't be cured with sex. It won't.

You go further than normal and wash the clothes there, taking over an hour. You splash yourself with water before making the trek back to the house.

Jason isn't there when you return, so you hang the laundry alone, dreaming about a hot mouth on your neck and fingers inside of you.

You awaken the next morning to the sound of a whip.

The first time fades into the background. But the next three lashes make you get out of bed.

There's no sound that follows the lashes, which is the oddest part. No whinnies or animal squeals.

You go out barefooted, dirt already warm from the sun. Jason is in the yard.

In his right hand is the whip. On his back are four thin, bloody welts.

"Jason!" you say, hurrying to the yard.

He turns his head at the sound of your voice. Then he turns around and whips himself three more times in succession.

Your eyes widen. You grab his wrist with both hands, pulling hard. Jason drops the whip and stumbles back, slipping out of your grip.

He looks at you wide-eyed, chest heaving.

"I'm sorry," he says. "Have I... did I wake you?"

"Yes, of course you woke me! Why are you doing that?"

He immediately looks wracked with guilt. You soften, upset at yourself for being so harsh and frightened by your boldness. Have you forgotten your place so easily?

Then again, Jason's not so good at keeping you in your place either.

"It's alright that you woke me," you say. "I'm not angry about that."

Jason shakes his head. "I should've been quieter. Self-punishment deserves no spectator."

"Why are you punishing yourself?"

"Because I—" He shakes his head. "I have sinned. I have been... selfish. Desired things that aren't mine to want."

You reach for him, comfort like an instinct. Jason backs away.

"Please," he says, chest heaving. "Please don't touch me. I beg you."

His words sting. You drop your hand.

"You don't need to punish yourself," you say carefully. "You've done nothing wrong. You've... you've been nothing but kind to me."

Jason shakes his head. "If you knew..."

His eyes sweep over your body. You watch as guilt overtakes him.

"I have lost sight of my duty. I must overcome my desires."

"You're allowed to have desires," you say.

"Not these," he says heavily.

You watch him for a moment. He stares unseeingly in the distance. Blood from his back drips on the ground.

You take a deep breath and pull down one shoulder of your night shirt. Then you pull the other. Jason's head darts back. His eyebrows go to his hairline.

Neither of you move for a moment. Then you pull your shirt down further. Air hits your skin. You're almost to your nipples.

You look at Jason. He swallows hard and tries to angle his body away from you. It doesn't work. You stare openly at his bulge. Just the suggestion of your body gets him hard and ready.

"I'm sorry," he says, eyes wet. "Please—God, please forgive me."

Something alights in you at the thought of Jason's obedience. He may think his capacity to breed is a sin, but his body can't help but react. He's ashamed of how quickly his cock fattens, eager to spurt.

You wonder if he'd hardened shortly after he came yesterday afternoon. If he'd cried in embarrassment at how fast his body betrayed him, demanding he release his desire.

Even after a whipping, he's hard for you. Would he still be hard if you were the one holding the whip? Would he come if you struck him?

You pull down your shirt and release one breast. The air hardens your nipple.

Jason whines low in his throat, strangled and desperate.

"Please," he whispers. "Take mercy."

This is insanity. What will you do? Strip and have him take you in the mud?

Truthfully, you'd much rather he shamefully comes in the dirt. Even if it is a waste of seed. You like how dark his cheeks get.

So, you stop. Jason looks to the sky, likely praying for forgiveness.

"I'm going to make tea," you say, shirt still lowered.

He nods, body tight with tension. You walk across the yard and back inside. Then you pull up your shirt and prepare tea.

As the water boils, the whip whistles through the air six more times.

[letsstargaze]

in the buff | jason todd

Summary: The one where you learn firsthand that Jason Todd sleeps in the nude.

Pairing: Jason Todd x gn!reader 

Word count: 2.7k

Warnings/tags: best friend jason, awkwardness, nudity, reader hardcore thirsting over jaytodd, love confessions, humor (attempts at it, anyway), silliness. inspired by this post!

the divider

There's been a huge (blessed) development in the drug ring case that you and Jason are working on. You can hardly sleep now.

Normally, you'd call or text Jason, even though he's usually already in the know. It's possible that you just like having an excuse to call him, but who can confirm such a thing?

But it's late, probably too late to call, considering Jason doesn't answer his phone unless it's pinged directly to his helmet after a certain time, courtesy of his family being "a buncha jackasses" (his words, obviously).

But maybe it's not too late for a visit. After all, Jason patrols late, and has insane insomnia. He very well could be awake at this late hour. And he's never minded you dropping by before.

In truth, you haven't seen Jason in a few days and you feel restless now when you go longer than a day without seeing each other. You're not quite sure why that is.

So here you are, disabling the window alarm on Jason's apartment. Partly for a case, partly for your own benefit.

It takes a few minutes but you manage to open the window without anyone calling the police or whacking you with a broom. You slide open the window mostly soundlessly. Then you wait. The room remains dark and quiet.

You're pretty proud of yourself actually. It's not that you're green when it comes to spycraft, but you're certainly no Batman.

Still, you've managed to sneak into Jason's apartment without waking him. The Red Hood. You peek in to check if he's really asleep.

And he is, dark hair stark against the white pillow. It sticks out in messy tufts. You can't see past Jason's neck and his freckled arms, illuminated by the orange streetlight outside. You put your laptop bag on the floor.

He's sleeping on his stomach, facing away from you, but you're very endeared by how he's curled up under his sheet, hands tucked under his pillow. If you went really close to his face, you could count his eyelashes. Jason has such pretty eyelashes.

That's a perfectly normal thought to have about your best friend, right? Boys have pretty eyelashes. You're just making an observation.

You're bewildered by how cold the room is, surprised that Jason can withstand such a temperature. Maybe it's a Pit thing.

You watch him for a moment longer. Guilt pools in your gut. Are you really going to wake him when he's probably just gone to bed in the last hour? It takes Jason so long to fall asleep, you know that.

...

No, you should let him sleep. You can work on the case in the morning.

You bend down to get your laptop bag. In that time, the light flicks on.

You flinch, turn around, and find yourself staring down the barrel of a gun.

Said gun is held by an extremely naked Jason Todd.

"Oh my God!" you say at the same time Jason realizes his mistake.

"What the fuck!" he shouts, grabbing a pillow to cover himself.

But not before you get an eyeful of your best friend's, er, weaponry.

"Why are you naked?" you shout, gaze darting everywhere. Good Lord, it's seared into your retinas. You're never getting the image of Jason's dick out of your brain.

"Why are you in my apartment?" Jason snaps back.

"No, my question is way more urgent," you say.

"No the hell it's not! You broke in! I'm allowed to be naked in my apartment!"

"Okay. Alright. I came because there's been a development in our case. I thought we could work on it together but when I realized you were asleep for real, I decided to leave."

Jason rolls his eyes. "You know I'm a light sleeper. I just went to bed. I was up late.”

Realization strikes you. Could it be...?

"Oh my God. Do you have someone here?" you ask, voice sinking to a whisper.

"I have you here," Jason says irritably.

"No, like—" You make a hole with one hand and stick a finger into it. "Y'know..."

"Jesus, no!" Jason's face twists in disgust. "C'mon!"

"Okay, chill out, Jay-Jay. It'd be fine if you did. I can keep a secret," you say, shrugging. People have sex. You know that. You've never thought about Jason having sex, but you suppose it's possible. Why not? Just because you've never had sex and you always hoped that Jason would be your first doesn't mean that he would. If he's moved on in his life, then you should too.

Jason scoffs. "Yeah, okay. You think anybody would get into bed with a headcase like me?"

Hope rekindles. You're not behind. Jason's right there with you, virginity firmly intact.

He puts the safety back on the gun, squishing the pillow against himself with his elbow. You watch in fascination at his multitasking. Jason starts to turn around to put the gun behind the headboard before clearly thinking twice about mooning you.

"So... why are you naked?" you ask, respectfully keeping your eyes north of the equator.

"If you must know, I sleep in the nude. Now turn around."

You don't turn around. "In the nude?"

Jason's eye twitches. "Yes, nude. It's better for your body and it's more comfortable and I don't—"

You pull a face. "Who says in the nude? How old are you, a hundred?"

"That's what you're harping on?" Jason asks. "You broke into my apartment!"

You hold up a finger. "I didn't break in, I disarmed the alarm like you taught me."

"Yeah, which was only for emergencies. This isn't an emergency. Now turn around!"

So you turn around. You hear the pillow fall and the image returns. You recite the alphabet backwards. When that doesn't work, you think about the time you helped Jason on a mission in the sewers and couldn't get the smell out of your suit for a week.

Yeah, that'll do it. You shudder.

"Can't believe you just broke in," he mumbles. "Raised in a fuckin' barn, swear to God."

"Okay, I'm sorry. I'm truly, honestly sorry, Jaybee. From the bottom of my heart. Can I look now?"

"If you dare."

"Are you decent?" you ask.

"Too easy of a joke," he says. "Yeah, the jewels are covered."

You turn slowly. Jason's got red (ha) boxers on, so you turn all the way.

Huh. Well.

You've never really thought much about what Jason's got going on underneath his armor. Certainly, you've assumed that he's got a good physique and a lot of stamina, considering what he does. You've always assumed that. But Jason's Jason. Your best friend, Jason. Your best friend, Jason, who came back really tall, yeah, and with a deep voice and a super pretty face...

Well, anyway. He's Jason. That's all.

But now? Now you get to look in depth, and... whoa.

Jason's broad, stocky, heavily muscled with a soft layer of fat on top. His arms are huge, hands proportionally big. His pecs are full with pink nipples the same shade as his lips. That's a fact you're never forgetting. Your belly flutters.

Okay, what the fuck! No. This is peak creepy behavior, leering at your best friend like this, even if he does have shoulders you could sink your teeth into and thighs you'd happily get crushed between. No! Bad.

...You look some more. He's covered in scars. This is the first time you've seen his autopsy scar in person. It's white, noticeable but healed, like most of his scars. There's a dusting of dark hair from his chest to his belly button. It thickens as it dips beneath his—

Mm, nope. Not thinking about that again.

"Hello-o."

Your eyes dart back to his face.

"Are you listening to me?" he asks, forehead crinkled.

"What? Yes. Sorry. Yes." Your cheeks burn.

Something crosses Jason's face, too quick for you to read. But then his expression stones over. He glances at the dresser across from the bed.

"If you gimme a sec, I'll put a shirt on so y'won't have to look at all this," he says, gesturing roughly to his body.

You blink, lost in Jasonland. "Huh?"

"I know the scars are pretty gnarly. Lemme find a shirt."

Jason goes to the dresser and digs through the top drawer. His wide back is strung tight with tension, you can tell. You hurry to him, blocking the drawer with your arm. Jason looks at you, brows rising.

"Can I help you?" he asks.

"Um."

Words. You remember words, don't you?

"You..."

You haven't been physically close to Jason in a long time. He smells like soap and detergent and is all-encompassing. Your brain feels like slush. Don't stare at his pecs.

"I didn't—I'm not grossed out by your scars, Jason," you finally manage to say.

Jason raises an eyebrow. "Sure. You're just grossed out by everything else about me." He sighs wearily, like he's practiced this speech every night in the mirror. "Look, it's fine. I know I'm really—"

"No, it's not fine! I can't bear having you think I'm repulsed by your body, Jason. That's just not true," you say.

"Well, you were starin' pretty hard, so—"

"But it wasn't—I wasn't staring in disgust, I was—I..."

Jason crosses his arms. His pecs are pushed up as he does so. His stomach looks so soft. But you know he's strong. Way stronger than you. Strong enough to wield his strength against you, if you wanted him to. Strong enough to be gentle with you, too.

You wonder if he's still ticklish.

"You're doin' it again!" Jason says, and this time he really does look hurt. Fuck. Fuck! You're a shitty best friend.

"No!" You lock eyes with him. "No, no! I mean, yes, I was looking at you. But I wasn't looking in a bad, judgy way. I was, uh, taking in your physique. Because you have a... a very nice body. I've never seen you without clothes so I was looking at you. Sorry."

Yeah, you'll just go die in a hole after this.

Jason squints at you for a long moment. You start to shift in place. Sweat beads on your forehead. You lick your lips, hoping Jason can hear your honesty.

"Are you messin' with me?"

"Huh?" You shake your head. "No, why would I—"

"You're really telling me that you find this," Jason gestures to his body, "Good looking?"

This is worse than any physical torture. You'd prefer Batman beating you up on a roof to being here.

You rub your temple, cheeks aflame. "Oh my God. Yes, Jason, you're a good looking guy. Can we move on?"

"No, 'cause I think you're lyin', and I don't like it. You're always honest with me."

"I am being honest," you say, suddenly more annoyed than anything. Because what the fuck? "Are you kidding me? There's a whole forum dedicated to the Red Hood and how much people want you to step on them. And that's without seeing your face! I have eyes, Jason, of course I find you attractive."

And that should be the end of it. Jason's already slack-jawed like a dead fish. But no, you keep going.

"You make me nervous and I thought I had a lid on it because we knew each other as kids but it's becoming clear that I very much don't, and that probably has to do with the fact that you're the only guy I've been close to, and I never got over you. And now I'm gonna go drown myself in the Hudson. Good night."

You go to slip out the window. Maybe it'll shut on your head and knock you out. That would be a divine gift.

It doesn't, though. The universe isn't so kind. Instead, Jason catches your arm and keeps you rooted to your spot. His hand is cold. You wonder if the rest of him is warm.

"Wait, wait. Just hang on."

You groan. "Dude, I'm fucking mortified over the last five minutes. Please let me keep some of my dignity," you say without looking at him.

"Now when have I ever done that?" You can hear the smile in his voice.

And suddenly, the miserable reality of never being more than friends with Jason Todd comes crashing down. It's too late. You've always been too late.

You sag in his grip.

"We can just forget this ever happened," you say quietly. "Chalk it up to idiocy."

"Mm, yeah, we could. 'Cept I don't think you're an idiot. And I want you to hear what I have t'say first. Will ya look at me?"

Mopily, you look at him. His hand drops.

"I—"

"You've never slept naked," you say before he can get a word out. "That's new. Otherwise, I would've known, and then I would've used the door."

Jason rolls his eyes. "Can I speak?"

You cross your arms. "Yeah, okay."

"First of all, I don't think it's necessary for me to disclose that I sleep in the nude." You open your mouth to argue. "But I know it was a mistake. I'm not mad about that. Okay?"

You nod. "Okay."

"I won't lie and say I'm not surprised at your... reaction. I don't really... I've never... I'm not Dick or Bruce, y'know? I wasn't told my whole life what a handsome boy I am. And dying and returning didn't really help with that stuff either."

"I think you're handsome, Jason," you say quietly. "Honest."

He coughs and looks away, a tiny blush on his cheeks. "Yeah, uh, think you've made that pretty clear. For the record, I think you're really beautiful. Always thought so."

Your eyes widen. "Really?"

"Well, yeah. I mean... yeah."

"You're just saying that 'cause I saw your vein cane," you say, grinning.

"Don't call it that."

"How about—"

"No."

You're both quiet.

"How 'bout pork swor—"

"No!"

You smile, eyes squinty. Jason glares.

"Don't nickname my thing," he says.

You nod solemnly. "You're right. It's your thing. You should choose its name."

He shakes his head. "Sucha weirdo."

"Hey, I've never been with a guy. I don't know the rules of thing-naming."

Jason tilts his head. "Never?"

"Never."

"Why?"

You shrug. "Never found anyone I liked enough, I guess. I've pretty much had my heart set on you, Jason."

His face softens. "Oh."

"Yeah."

"Well, uh, me too," he says. "You're it for me, honey. I just never... I mean, really, I never thought it would actually happen with you. Not then, not now."

"Huh. You really should've flashed me earlier. We could've sped things up exponentially."

"Yeah, why didn't I think of that," Jason says dryly.

"Dunno! We all know you're more than a pretty face."

His face reddens. You grin.

"Are you shy?" you ask, dancing on your toes.

"No. Shut up."

"You're shy! I make Jason Todd shy! Oh, this is wonderful. I should break into your apartment regularly."

"It's just new for me!" he says. "Lea' me alone."

You cozy up to him, confidence renewed by the mutual confession. You wrap your arms around his neck. Jason looks at you, hands slowly coming to rest on your waist. The rest of him is warm.

"Just teasing you, Jaybee," you say.

"Hmm." He slowly nudges your cheek with his nose. "Like y'always do?"

"Like I always do," you say sweetly. "But for the record, if we ever share a bed in the future, you're gonna have to keep the soldier in his tent."

Jason lets go of you, exasperated. "Oh, for—y'know what? Your visitation privileges are revoked. Get outta my apartment."

You put on the saddest face you can muster. "You're kicking me out? Into the cold?"

"It's eighty degrees."

You sigh loudly. "Okay, fine. Date tomorrow?"

"Seriously?" Jason asks, sounding genuinely surprised.

"Seriously! Why wouldn't I be serious?"

"You really wanna date me?"

"Never been more sure of anything in my life."

Jason's relief is palpable and bittersweet. You'll spend the rest of your days letting him know just how spectacular he and his pectorals are.

"Okay," he says, shy again. You don't tease him this time.

"Great!" You close the distance between you and peck him on the cheek. His blinks in surprise.

"I'll give you a proper kiss on our date," you say, winking. "Bye, Jasey-Daisy."

"Bye, honey. Don't break into anyone else's apartment on your way home."

"Never," you say, climbing out the window. "You're the only one for me, Toddy!"

[letsstargaze]

This is not on the prompt list(s), but I’ve been inspired by the phrase “This is for your own good.” and could we have a debut Red Hood Jason saying this to Vigilante!Reader, who was also his pre-death lover, as he’s keeping her prisoner in one of his bases so that she won’t be caught in the crossfire?

OOH. interesting prompt. I haven't really written a darker jason 😏 thanks anon! hope you like.

jason todd x gn!reader. DARK THEMES. drugging, toxic relationship, codependency, chain restraints, knife threats (not from jason). what would happen if jason's best traits (protecting the people he loves, prioritizing safety) manifested in the worst way?

****

"This is for your own good, baby."

You pull at your chains, making them clink against the floor. You snarl as he steps back.

"This is crazy, Jason! Let me go!"

Jason looks at you in sympathy. It pains him to see you like this; Jason never wants to do anything that'll frighten or upset you. Your comfort and happiness always precede his. He'd put a gun into his mouth without hesitation if it would save you.

But he means it: this really is for your own good.

"I thought you were better than this," you say savagely. "I thought you of all people would understand how wrong this is."

"I know it's wrong," Jason says quietly. "I know I'm a bastard and fucked in the head. I know I don't deserve ya. But this is the only way. You won't stop going out there. You're too sweet for this city. It'll tear you apart, and I won't let that happen."

"That isn't your decision to make, Jason!" you say, squirming in your restraints.

You take a deep breath. The Bats only respond to logic when they're this deep in paranoia. You have to appeal to that.

"Jason, listen to me. I know you're scared of me getting hurt, but I know what I'm doing. I've done this for a long time, just like you—"

"And that's exactly where the danger lies. Things go wrong all the time, no matter how long you've been out there. I'm expendable. You're not."

Jason tugs once, twice, three times on your ankles and wrists. Satisfied, he moves on to the chain around your waist that's connected to the wall. It gives you a walking range of about five feet before you're yanked back. Jason had fussed about bedsores, and what keeping you in a bed would do to your range of motion. This was his compromise.

I'm not a monster, he'd insisted. I don't want to hurt you.

"Jason, please," you say. He starts to walk away and you chase him. The wall chain pulls and you land on your knees. Jason stops, looking down at you. You start to cry.

"Jason, please, please! Please don't leave me like this," you say, reaching with bound hands to grab his pant leg. "Please. This isn't right. I'm not a doll for your keeping!"

"I don't think of you as a doll," Jason says, kneeling in front of you. He holds your cheek and wipes a tear with a gloved thumb. "Oh, sweetheart, don't cry. Please don't cry. Hate to see it. I won't keep you like this forever. 'S just until I finish up in Gotham. Then we can go away from all this. Live normal lives."

"This is the life I want to live!" you shout, pawing at his clothes. "Let me go, Jason, let me go!"

"Baby. Hey, hey. You're gonna work yourself into a frenzy. Y'want something to calm you down? Make y'feel nice and sleepy."

Your blood turns to ice. No. No drugs. If Jason drugs you now, there's no telling when or if he'll stop. This is a man who was trained by Batman. You're sure he knows about every drug there's to know about.

You shake your head, your crying becoming quiet blubbering. "No. N-no drugs. Please."

He pets your forehead. "'Kay. No drugs, baby. 'S okay, see? I'll be back in a few hours and then we can eat and I'll draw you a bubble bath. Those are your favorite, remember?"

Jason kisses your salty cheek and stands, putting on his helmet. Like this, looming over you, in full Hood gear, Jason is terrifying. The reminder strikes you again, how capable and deadly your lover is.

Jason leans in and pets your cheek. "So pretty. Love you so much. Won't let anything happen to you, baby."

You watch, defeated, as Jason leaves, locking the door behind him. You listen for the sound of the lock clicking.

Then you get to work on finding an escape.

****

You keep your breathing silent as you wait. Your limbs ache from how long you've been crouched in hiding, but it doesn't matter. Nothing matters except escaping.

The door opens and shuts. Jason quietly removes his boots and helmet, surveying the apartment like always. He sets a plastic bag on the coffee table. The smell of Thai food fills the apartment.

"Baby? Hey, I'm home. Brought your favorite takeout."

You wait until he walks by your spot behind the TV. Then you strike.

You take Jason down to the floor with a move that only works due to your element of surprise. Then you hold a dagger to his neck, the cold metal pressed flat.

Jason regards you calmly, hands at his sides. You pant furiously, pressing the blade warningly.

"Let me go," you order. "I won't be chained up like that."

"I see," he says, and the way he says it is scarily reminiscent of Batman. You keep that to yourself.

"I mean it, Jason. You can't do that. I'll—I'll call someone on you. Bruce, Clark, Dick. Somebody."

"Alright." Jason holds up his hands slowly. You watch the movement, nerves raw. "Alright. 'S okay. Just breathe. You're upset, I get that."

"I don't—I don't wanna hurt you," you say, squeezing the dagger harder. Your hand cramps in protest. "But if you make me..."

Jason nods. "Yeah, baby. I know. 'S okay. We can fix it. 'M not mad."

"Don't talk to me like that," you snap. "I'm not stupid, Jay. Not stupid."

"I know, sweetheart. I know you're not stupid. I don't think you are. Y'wanna cut me? Feel like hurtin'?" He leans into the blade, breathing steady as a river. "Go on, honey. I heal quick. You need to do it, take it out on me."

The thought of hurting Jason makes you sick. For all of his misguided protection, he hasn't hurt you. Hasn't laid a hand on you or shouted at you. Every form of restraint is as gentle as possible.

"No," you say, voice wobbly. "I-I don't wanna hurt you. Please don't make me."

Jason strokes your arm with his thumb. "No, I won't. You'll never have to hurt anybody. And I'll never let you get hurt either. 'S okay. You're safe with me. 'S me, just Jay."

Jason's hand wraps around the wrist with the knife. You stiffen, and the blade slips. A thin line of blood beads on his neck. He loosens his grip.

"Okay," he says. "Alright. You're safe."

"I don't wanna be chained," you say, tears in your eyes. "I can't be chained. I'll go fucking crazy, Jason."

"I know. I'm sorry. We don't have to do chains."

Your heart hammers in your chest. But Jason is nothing but calm. Blood sluggishly drips down his neck. Your eyes widen.

"I'm sorry," you say, reaching for his neck. "I'm sorry, Jaybird, I didn't mean—"

"I know." He catches your hand. "Shh, shh. That's okay. 'S just a scratch. It was an accident, baby, that's all."

Tears fall down your cheeks. "I don't wanna hurt you."

"I know." Jason slips the knife out of your hand. He slides it away. You collapse into his embrace.

"I can do it," you say, sobbing. "I can go out there, Jay. Please just believe me. Please trust me. You trusted me before."

Jason cradles the back of your head. He slots you between his legs and rocks back and forth. You put your arms around him. His heart is an even thump against your ear.

Finally, you've gotten through to him. Jason isn't completely gone after all.

"Don't worry," he says. "Don't worry, 's okay. It'll all be fine. I know my mistake. I'll be better. It'll be better for us."

Something pricks your neck.

Hope sinks like a rock in your stomach. You squirm, but Jason holds fast, legs trapping yours. You whale on his shoulders with your fists. He holds your biceps, expression sorrowful.

"Baby—"

"No, you promised. You promised!" you scream. "You promised me!"

"It's just to soothe your nerves, honey. Please don't—"

You lunge for the knife, ready to do some serious damage. Jason tackles you before you can. He traps you on the floor, holding you down in a full lock. He holds your arms to your sides, and your legs are pinned to the floor. It's perhaps the gentlest restraint you've ever experienced. You scream and thrash, but it's no use.

"You monster! You're no better than any of them!"

"Sorry, 'm sorry," Jason says. No matter how much you fight, his grip won't budge. You've never been a match for Jason's strength or ability.

"I hate you! You don't love me!"

"I do, I do love you." Jason rests his forehead against your spine. "Christ, your life means more than mine. I won't lose you. You're the only one who matters."

His words are muffled. Your world is going fuzzy. The drug is kicking in.

"You promised," you say weakly, wiggling in one last attempt.

Jason tucks his face into your neck as you fall unconscious.

"I'll keep you safe," he says, lips on your neck. "No matter what."

[letsstargaze]

something is rotten

▹ — joel miller x niece!reader

▹ — summary: part two of to an empty house — arriving in jackson brings painful feelings, and even worse conversations.

▹ — a/n: UGH!! guys im not all that happy with this one!! ive changed it a couple times too D: but i have left yall hanging long enough!! lemme know if you want anymore about these guys :’) && ty guys sm for all the support ILY!!

▹ — warnings: slight spoilers for episode 6 ‘kin’, swearing, ANGST!!!, a bit of comfort, father figure joel, reader has daddy issues, and abandonment issues, and is generally not struggling in life PLS

▹ — tags: @canpillowscry @randomstory56 @angsty-twihardxx @frogtits1 @exiledangel @sleepdeprived-barelyalive @vee-vee-writes @rhyanna6012 @snixx2088 @mona-aiko @mymommmy (those of you tagged in italics asked for part 2 in the comments of the first part! drop me a message if you want your tag removed!!)

masterlist

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

Life in the apocalypse had been non-stop since you had left that hydroelectric power plant, left behind Tommy, and for a while, all thoughts of him. There hadn’t been time to worry about that sort of thing, between almost losing Joel, and then almost losing Ellie, and then finally reaching the hospital that had been your end goal.

In some ways, you were glad. It kept your mind racing, the feeling of constantly being on edge allowing your brain to stay away from silly things, such as your father.

But now, with that whole chapter finally being over, Joel and Ellie were ready to settle down, to live in a home, rather than travelling miles upon miles, never feeling safe. The three of you had been through a lot, and since the… incident with Ellie, her joke book had remained closed.

You knew that Joel had noticed the change in her, just the same as you had. What she had thought to be her purpose, the justification for everybody who had been lost on your journey, their sacrifice, had been for nothing. It was tearing her apart, and it hurt you to watch it happen.

There was no question about your next destination, though you tried to ignore the reality of it for as long as you possibly could, you were fully aware that Jackson was what Ellie needed. Hell, you’d even go as far as to say it was what Joel needed, too. But deep down, you knew that going there was going to tear you to pieces, despite the way you liked to put on a strong front, following in Joel’s footsteps even in that sense.

You didn’t share your concerns, content to continue the journey in silence, pretending not to notice the way Joel and Ellie looked at you the closer you got to the town.

“Hey, you okay?” Ellie murmured to you, the final stop of your journey feeling like something similar to that of impending doom. She nudged your arm with her elbow, smiling in a way that didn’t quite reach her eyes like it used to.

“Mighty fine.” You responded, her dim smile reflected in your own, and you let it fall the moment she nodded at you, despite clearly being unconvinced by your words.

You fell into step beside her and Joel, and felt his hand grasp on to your shoulder as you caught glimpse of Jackson in the not far enough distance. He squeezed your shoulder the slightest bit, and gave you the biggest reassuring smile he could muster, though it didn’t soothe your worries like it used to.

Maybe it was everything the three of you had been through over your journey, or maybe it was the impending arrival at Jackson, but you were starting to notice the world had become much dimmer than you remembered it to be. Joel’s grip less reassuring, Ellie’s smile less genuine, that faint hope in your gut long gone. With a frown, the thought came to you that this was what it meant to grow up.

The lines on Ellie’s face said the same thing, the sigh that had left her chest, made up of pure exhaustion, just told you that her naive nature had vanished. Jokes no longer received the same laughter, and the world no longer held beauty. Growing up felt like hopelessness settling, nuzzling its way in and making itself at home in that space around your heart. The grip it had made it feel like perhaps, it wouldn’t be all too bad if that heartbeat slowed, but you pushed that thought aside for another time.

For now, you’d have to focus on the problem at hand; arriving in Jackson.

It was warmer now than it had been when you’d left the power plant, and it showed in the way that the green lands had brightened, the sun settling and warming the back of your neck. The heat meant less layers, and the three of you had removed your jackets long before arriving in the town.

The lookouts had spotted you all before you’d been anywhere near the gate, so it was no surprise that Tommy was there to greet the three of you when the gates were finally pulled open, allowing you a peek into the home he valued so much.

Walking in, you had already begun your self-appointed mission of ignoring every word Tommy Miller said, but felt yourself almost blown away by the sights around you. For a moment, just a split second, it was nice.

That thought went out the window a second later, catching a glimpse of your so-called father, and you couldn’t help but recall the way you’d sat for endless nights, waiting for that very man, and imagined yourself living a life with him in a town just like this one.

You felt sick.

That little kid deserved better, you decided. You were worthy of living this kind of life, of getting to sleep in a warm house, of not having to worry about if Joel and Tess would get enough ration cards to feed the three of you, of getting horse riding lessons! The facts of the situation stared you in the face, getting clearer the longer you looked around. Your own father denied you of this life.

With building anger, the feeling white-hot, burning, you turned to Joel where he was speaking with his brother. “Where are we staying?”

Tommy looked between you and Joel, swallowing when Joel just raised a brow at him, and spoke, “Uh, little place just a couple blocks over. 38, I think. Rancher Street, I’ll take you guys over—”

“I’ll make my own way.” You snapped, before he could even finish his sentence. If you had to look at him for even a second longer, you were sure that the overflowing anger and resentment would explode, and you weren’t convinced anyone would be able to pick up the pieces that would be left behind.

You stormed down the street before he could say another word to you, turning down the first alley you saw and standing still in the street on the other side, letting out a harsh breath.

You couldn’t be sure how long you’d stood there for, trying to turn down the simmering emotions inside of you, but it was clearly long enough for somebody to notice. “You good there?” A young girl asked, and you turned to her, brows furrowed.

“‘M fine.” You responded gruffly, and even you could hear the way your speech reflected Joel’s own. The thought calmed you, almost, reminding you of who your real dad was.

She stepped closer, clearly not taking a hint, “You sure? New in town? You look lost.”

“Yes, yes, and I’m not lost.” You said to her, though you didn’t exactly know where you were. She just raised her eyebrows at you, and you huffed, “Lookin’ for a Rancher Street.”

The girl nodded, something between a smirk and a smile on her face, and pointed forward, “First left twice, then a right. Should get you there just fine.”

“Thanks.” You said, immediately heading off in the direction she’d guided you in. You kept your head down, brows furrowed, and tried to keep your attention away from the world around you. It was clear that it’d just make you more angry.

You counted along with the house numbers as you passed by, Rancher Street wasn’t that densely populated, if the look of the houses were anything to go by. There was quite a few that looked run down, number 38 included, once you arrived. You went inside, the door already unlocked, and sneezed when you inhaled all the dust that clouded the air. This place must’ve been barely touched throughout the last twenty years.

Grabbing a book left on the coffee table, you pulled it open, and sat on the edge of an old sofa, sighed through your nose when even more dust floated up from it.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

“You’ll go, because it’s the polite thing to do.” Joel told you firmly, sighing heavily as he looked over at you with his arms crossed.

“You think I give a shit about being polite?” You asked him, mirroring his stance by crossing your own arms. He rolled his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose as he clearly brainstormed a way to get around your stubbornness.

“Just this one time,” He told you, saying your name pleadingly, “Then you’ll never have to go ‘round there again.”

That peaked your interest, and you uncrossed your arms, “Really? You promise?”

“Swear.” Joel replied, and sighed something near to relief, finally calling Ellie’s name. The stairs creaked, and she appeared less than a second later.

“You coming?” She asked, thought she had obviously been sat on the stairs, listening to yours and Joel’s… conversation, the whole time.

“Yeah,” You sighed unhappily, “I’m coming.”

The three of you made your way across town, with Joel checking a scrap piece of paper that you could only assume held directions. Lights had flickered on by now, the darkness of the evening being offset by the yellow lamps that poured light over the street. It was weird, you thought, being able to see so clearly in the darkness.

Joel knocked at the wooden door when you arrived, looking back at you where you stood, just off the porch with Ellie, like he thought you might run away if he didn’t keep his eyes on you.

Though the thought had occurred to you, you wouldn’t do it, not if it meant that Joel’s promise would be vacant. Just this once, he had sworn.

The front door opened as Ellie knocked your arm with her elbow, giving you a slight reassuring smile. You appreciated the effort, but the reassurance fell flat. There was something about this situation that you just couldn’t put into words, but it hurt. Her arm wrapped through your own as Joel followed Tommy inside, and she led you in after them, closing the door behind you.

Immediately, you were tense. Your heart felt as if it was beating in your throat, like it was going to stop if you took another step. You tried not to look around, keeping your eyes on your battered old shoes as you let Ellie continue leading you through the house.

Her abrupt stop had you stumbling into her, and lifting your head with furrowed brows. You glanced to where she was looking, seeing the names Kevin and Sarah written in a scrawl on a chalkboard in what you guessed would be a living room. You frowned, and gripped Ellie’s arm tighter, breaking her from her stare at the board.

You pretended not to notice the homely feel to the house, the warmth of it making your palms sweat. If you allowed your mind to wonder too far, you’d be reminded of how you had dreamed of living a life like this as a kid, dreamed of a house just like this one, shared with your father. You would be reminded of how he chose to have this, chose to have it without you.

Good job you keep your mind on a tight leash, you supposed, gritting your teeth and blinking away the angry tears that wanted to rise and fall from your eyes.

You breathed in deeply through your nose, looking up as Ellie began to loosen her grip on your arm, having arrived at the dining room. The concept had always been strange to you, having lived in a shitty apartment for basically all your life, and having a whole room just for eating seemed like a waste of valuable space.

Ellie took a seat, and you quickly followed in her example as Joel stood talking to Tommy by the doorway, engaged in conversation like they were as close as they had been two decades ago.

“You got this.” Ellie said, her hand on squeezing your arm as she looked towards where you were wringing your fingers together, your stomach feeling as though you’d left it back by the porch. You nodded at her, swallowing and smiling tightly.

You stayed quiet as Tommy finished setting the table, before he was moving back and forth between the dining room and kitchen, bringing various plates and a few sauces with each trip. Finally, he sat down at the head of the table beside Ellie, and you kept your gaze away from him.

“Sorry I couldn’t be there to greet you guys when you got in,” Maria called, finally approaching from the kitchen, and you were keeping your gaze on your hands until Ellie frantically began tapping your, her expression saying something you’d couldn’t quite understand, something close to pity in her eyes. “Kinda hard to get around so quick, these days.” Maria laughed, placed a big plate down on the table before standing back up, her hands on her back and—

If you had eaten any food, you were sure you would’ve thrown it all back up.

There, standing in front of you, was your father’s wife — pregnant.

It felt like a million different feelings were running through your head, faster than you could catch up, all your thoughts were racing, clashing together and leaving only one that was literate: What the fuck?

Maria sat down beside Joel, at Tommy’s side, and you could see in Joel’s eyes that he hadn’t expected this, could see the pity building in his eyes just as you’d seen in Ellie’s, and it was all far too much.

“I can’t do this.” You announced, slamming your hands on the table and feeling some satisfaction in the way the cutlery clattered together. You pushed your chair back, standing up, and saw your father open his mouth to speak.

He said your name, and you snapped.

“Don’t talk to me! What the fuck is wrong with you?” You cried out, staring daggers at the man who was supposed to be your dad. The angry tears that you had managed to push away earlier came rushing back, one already falling down your cheek. You wiped it away angrily.

“Kid, just listen—”

You seethed, “Kid? Do I look like a fucking kid to you? You missed out on that, Tommy. You have no idea—” Your voice broke for a moment, as you thought of all the things that had happened to you since your father had been around. “I don’t have to listen to you. You’re not my dad, remember? You left your daughter, years ago. You have no idea what we’ve been through.”

Ellie was stood beside you, her hand on your shoulder, though when she had got there, you had no idea. The edges of your vision were red, and you could feel the way your throat was tightening.

“I’m sorry,” He started, your name leaving his lips once again, and Ellie held firmly against you as you leant towards him, your blood warming in your veins as your heartbeat echoed in your ears.

“I don’t think sorry cuts it.” You laughed, humourlessly. “I don’t think anything does, actually. I will never forgive you. You hear me? You listening? Never.”

You turned away, Ellie’s hand falling away, and you even avoided Joel as he stood up and tried to reach out for you. You couldn’t face them, not like this, not when it felt like your father had taken a chisel to your heart, and left you with only splintered ribs. You were choking on the emptiness of it, the reality of your life and what it meant to the man who had helped create it.

You were more certain now than ever that he had never cared for you, that he had left because of you, not just despite you.

It was horrible, and it was something you had always suspected. A part of you wished that he had died alongside the Fireflies, because at least then he wouldn’t have had a choice in staying away, right? But no, he was alive and well, thriving in the home he’d made without you, while you worried back at the QZ that barely provided you with enough food to get by.

You were storming away, and had reached the house you'd been allocated before you even really noticed that you had left. The blood in your veins had reached a boil by now, and you could feel the steaming in your lungs, in the way it suffocated you and made every breath burn against your throat.

The backpack in your hands was still filled with everything you owned, seeing as you hadn’t bothered to unpack into somebody else’s bedroom, though it had been theirs a lifetime ago. It didn’t help the deepening rage within you, the despair that was tilting your entire world on its axis. Everything in your life was in this bag, probably weighing less than the plate of food Maria had brought out.

Meanwhile, your father had a whole house full of shit that belonged to him. You scoffed, feeling that burning sensation crawling up your chest, so close to hatred, but something far more raw, more painful.

Your feet took you back out to Rancher Street, legs moving before your mind was fully caught up. You met the rest of the Miller’s halfway through your trek, with them on their way to Joel’s new house, whilst you were trying to make your way to the gate, prepared to leave, rather than get left behind.

Joel called your name, his expression displaying the panic that was crushing his chest. He had been a builder, before. He had fixed things — it was what he did, what he liked to do. But this was something he didn’t know how to fix, something that may have just been broken beyond repair… he wasn’t sure what to do with that.

“Joel, don’t,” You told him, voice trembling as you spoke, stopping in front of the man who had looked after you for your whole life. “Please don’t. Nothin’ that anyone says could make me not hate him. Not even you.”

Joel swallowed, glancing back to his brother behind him, where he stood with his wife, before glancing to Ellie at his own side.

“I—I didn’t mean for this,” Tommy said, arms up by his head as if he was surrendering, but you knew he was just trying to make himself feel better. “I swear!”

“I don’t care,” You cried, feeling your frustration build that none of these people had the ability to understand you, to understand how it felt for your own father to look at you and leave you behind. They couldn’t get how crushing this was, that he was starting over. “Go ahead, start over with your wife. First time ‘round didn’t work, but second time, surely!”

He flinched at your words, as if they had hurt him, but your expression hardened. He had no idea what true hurt was — how could he?

“I know I wasn’t the greatest dad—”

“You have never been my dad. Joel is my dad. He’s looked after me my whole life while you were out lookin’ for something, who knows what, because I don’t believe you ever found it.” You spat at him, feeling Ellie approach your side, hold on to your wrist as your hands clenched into fists.

Joel’s face fell, the reality of your feelings towards your father were crushing, but he could see why you’d feel that way. He’d agree with you, too, if anybody deserved the title of your dad, it’d be himself, not his brother. He remembered a few times when you’d used the name for him, though you had been sick or exhausted down to your very bones both times, and he had figured that in your muddled mind, you’d gotten him confused with Tommy. That was the reason he had never corrected it, not wanting to squash whatever little amount of hope and love you had for his brother. He’d had no idea that the truth was that you saw him, not his brother, and your mind had made that connection.

He felt like he could cry when you turned to him, that glassy look in your eyes, and he saw the pieces of you that his own brother had broken. “I want to leave.” You told him, lip trembling as you said the words.

Joel didn’t know what to reply with — the two of you had nowhere to go, and Ellie didn’t, either. This place was your best option, your only option, really. He shook his head, mouth slightly agape as he tried to think of something to say, something that could convince you.

Ellie said your name, and you drew your gaze to her, where she looked guilty, far guiltier than you had ever seen her. “I want to stay.” She told you, her eyes darting away from you as if she was confessing some awful sin to you.

“I know,” You said, letting her hand slip from your wrist to your own hand, and squeeze tightly. “But I…”

Your gaze moved to Tommy and Maria, and your expression hardened, features turning to stone when you looked at the two of them. “I’ll stay. For now. And I’m still a Miller, but— but if anybody asks, I’m Joel’s daughter.”

Joel nodded, smiling thinly at you, tears welled up in his own eyes, and you nodded back to him.

“O—Okay.” Tommy said, swallowing, but you shushed him before he could continue.

“As for you, I don’t wanna see you. Let’s keep it the way you decided we should be.“ Your voice trembled, but you remained firm on your words. “I don’t wanna see your face, or hear your voice. I don’t want to know you. Joel can do what he likes, but you stay far away from me, you got it? The only kid you have is that one.” You finished, gesturing toward where Maria held a hand over her stomach.

Tommy looked as if he was going to disagree, but people had begun peeking through the windows of the houses on either side of the street, and when Joel stepped beside you, arm immediately going around your shoulders, he knew he had no choice.

“Hope you’re a better father to that kid than you were to me.” You hissed at him, seeing the way his face crumpled and finding satisfaction in it.

The small part of you, the darkest part, hoped every one of your words hurt him. Hoped that he lived the rest of his life knowing that he fucked up, that he ruined you, and that when you built yourself back up, he’d never get the chance to know you.

Joel took the backpack from your shoulder, pulling it over his own, and turned you away from the father you had disowned. The three of you walked away, not looking back to see the way Maria had to herd him away as he stared at you, something close to grief in his eyes.

When you arrived back at 38 Rancher Street, Ellie held your hand tightly while Joel opened the front door, dropping your backpack by the stairs as he moved towards the dust filled living room. The two of you followed him, and he turned around to see you squeezing Ellie’s hand, your lips trembling and your face crumpled as you looked up at him.

“Did I make a mistake? Did I ruin everything?” You asked him, trying so hard to keep yourself together, to tape all the little pieces of yourself into something that resembled okay, but it wasn't working.

“God, no, kid.” Joel said, and he was in front of you and Ellie before you could get another word in, pulling the two of you into his arms and breathing out a tired exhale. “I’m proud of you, proud of you both.” He told you, and your whole facade collapsed beneath you, leaving you sobbing into his arms, wondering where everything had gone wrong, wondering what that little kid would’ve said if she had heard your words tonight.

“We’re gonna be alright.” Joel told the two of you, feeling Ellie squeeze her arms tighter around him, until she let go, pointing upwards to let him know where she was heading. He nodded at her, an understanding expression on his face, and tightened both his arms around you.

“You swear?” You checked, unable to help yourself, and let yourself breathe a shaky sigh into his neck when he responded.

“Swear.”

[letsstargaze]

dc masterlist

ONE-SHOTS.

✩ window pains. ─ jason todd x gn!reader

he's got a habit of coming in through the window. you want him to start staying... and using the door. (angst, fluff, pining, injured jason, tending to wounds, feelings).

✩ sunset anew. ─ dick grayson x fem!reader

you're a little nervous to become the mrs. grayson. luckily, your husband-to-be knows just what to say to soothe your worries. (wedding, fluff, anxious reader, insecure dick, so much soft intimacy)

✩ the teeth you know. ─ vampire king!dick grayson x fem!reader

the war between the humans and the vampires has lasted for a year now. when you fled gotham, you thought that would be the last time you'd see the vampire king and the love of your life, dick grayson. you were wrong. (SMUT 18+ only, manipulative dick, dreams, oral f receiving)

✩ savior. ─ jason todd x gn!reader

red hood is the stuff of nightmares. red hood is no hero. red hood is your best friend. (angst, reader is afraid of red hood and they discover that he's jason, injured and kidnapped reader, emotional hurt no comfort.)

✩ in your hands. ─ jason todd x gn!reader

jason thinks he's too big to be loved. you show him that that's impossible. (bathing together, sad jason, brief dissociation, i hc jason to have body dysmorphia and i wanted to explore that, non sexual nudity, washing your partner, bruce angst, hopeful ending.)

✩ restroom attendant. ─ jason todd x fem!reader

tonight is the worst night ever--you just got dumped on your birthday, and all you want to do is cry in the restaurant bathroom in peace. that is, until, the red hood bursts in. this city just won't cut you a break. (humor, flirting, meet ugly, awkward cute jason, canon typical violence)

☆ angel of small death. — jason todd x gn!shadow monster!reader

you can't remember what it was like to be human. until jason returns. now, he's the only thing tethering you to this world. and you won't let anything happen to him. (monster!reader, canon-typical violence, codependency, stalking, suicidal thoughts, somewhat happy ending.)

☆ crushin'. — jason todd x gn!reader

barbara invites you to dinner with the bats. she's done so before, and you've always declined, but this time, you agree because the bat you've had a crush on for ages will be there. little do you know, the only reason he's staying for dinner is because of you. (mutual pining, crushes, jason is a sweetie, matchmaking, dick is a meddling brother with good intentions)

◇ knight!jason universe - in which you're given to knight!jason as a present (light dubcon elements)

intro post | you make dinner for jason

temptation (smut 18+, dubcon voyeurism, religious guilt read the tags!!)

BLURBS.

ALL READERS ARE GN UNLESS NOTED OTHERWISE

-> DICK GRAYSON.

"this is real. i'm real. look at me."

"can you walk? i need you to walk."

dick catches you when you trip and fall

"you matter so much to me."

you meet the yj team for the first time and have a panic attack

dick cuddles you after he returns late from patrol

you try to break up with dick when your insecurities overwhelm you

dick and assistant!reader who has a secret nightlife

-> JASON TODD.

"i thought you were scared of heights."

reader calls jason in panic when they are chased by a goon

"you're just going to leave me here?!"

awkward jason with a big crush on baker!reader

you break up with jason after he almost dies | part 2 (completed)

playfighting with jason turns into something else (NSFW, fem!reader)

jason rescues you after you have a fight (fem!reader)

jason asks his family to help after you, his fiance, are kidnapped

you forget to text jason you're home safe and he panics

you comfort werewolf!jason during a shift

you are jason's ex and have to work with him on a mission

headless horseman!jason gives you a ride home

"why not them, why me?"

you find a werewolf in your shed who has a dead boy's face

you and jason fight and he thinks you broke up

devoted jason who just wants to be yours

jason tells you that he's asexual

you give bodyguard!jason a gift | you defend him at a gala

you're a vigilante who's after the red hood | pt 2 | pt 3

fussing over jason after he's shot in his bulletproof vest

boxer!jason protects you from a creep

you're a reporter who's under red hood's protection | part 2 | part 3

a stranger thinks you're in danger with your boyfriend, jason

introducing naps to jason (hc)

you bring home a baby and insist on keeping her

jason loves his childhood crush's new curves, make no mistake

jason takes care of you when you're high on pain meds

you meet jason as a civilian when you're both held hostage

virgin!jason comes fast (hc)

-> TIM DRAKE.

you have insomnia and run into tim in the yj tower

-> CLARK KENT.

holding hands while walking with clark

giving clark a massage when he's stressed

clark is scared when he finds out he's going to be a dad

you politely reject superman (you're dating clark kent!)

-> BRUCE WAYNE.

the JL discovers that batman is married... to you

[letsstargaze]

Hiii, discovered your fics on AO3 and they’re very my jam! If you’re still taking requests, could I suggest something where Jason rescues you, an angsty hurt/comfort? Maybe they’re pining for each-other and maybe confront/confess their feelings, or are already together, up to you.

No worries if not 😊😊 Thanks for the good words ❤️🖤

Hey I know you! Thanks for leaving nice comments over yonder 🥰 Idk if I really delivered on this prompt but I hope you like it anyway lol 😅 I combined this prompt with another I received about Jason and the reader fighting before the reader is hurt/kidnapped.

jason todd x fem!reader. tw: creepy men, crime alley, injured reader, jason shoots people (🎶whatta mighty good man🎶)

****

"If you don't know who this is, you shouldn't be fucking calling. Leave a message after the beep or whatever."

Beeeep!

"Jay, it's me. Can we please talk? You can't ignore me forever. I want us to fix this. I—" You swallow hard. "I miss you."

You sigh, rubbing your forehead as you think of what to say. You've already left three unanswered messages. There's no more for you to say. You just want things to be fixed.

You want your best friend back.

"Okay. Call me when you can."

You hang up and pocket your phone.

The fight was stupid. Jason doesn't respond well to being pushed, but you pushed him anyway. You wanted to know where he disappeared to at night. You were sick of the secrets, of always feeling like you were three steps behind, left in the dark.

If you really cared about me, you would tell me where you go.

Jason had stilled, expression cold.

I don't owe you anything.

Your voice had turned wobbly then.

Jay, don't I mean anything to you? I want you to trust me, I want this to be a normal friendship!

He'd put on his jacket and collected the few things he left in your apartment.

You're right. You deserve normal.

You haven't spoken since. At first, you thought Jason left for a few hours to cool down. So you gave him space.

But then hours turned to days, and now it's been a full week and a half since you'd fought. Last night, you broke down and cried. This is it. You've lost him for good.

Part of you fears the reality is darker than him just leaving. You've long suspected that whatever Jason goes out to do is probably illegal since he's always out at night.

What if you're called down to the police station to identify a body?

All those things left unsaid. Jason will never know you love him.

Screw this. You're going to his apartment.

It's late. It's really late, and this is actually not the best idea to carry out at eight o'clock at night in Crime Alley. There's a reason Jason always insists on hanging out at your apartment or at a cafe.

A man whistles at you down the street. "Goin' somewhere, girlie?"

This was a bad idea. Jason might be the one who has to ID a body tonight.

You can't remember which of these apartments is his. But you can't call him. He can't know you're here, not yet.

"You shouldn't be here, lady!" a kid shouts at you from a fire escape. "He don't like new people on his turf!"

You don't take the time to figure out who the kid means. Crime Alley is known for, well, crime. The sooner you can locate Jason's apartment, the better.

A group of men light cigarettes down the road. You pause and turn around. In the process, you stumble over a garbage can.

That instantly draws their attention.

"Well, what have we here?" one jeers. "You lost, sweetie?"

You run.

You don't care if it makes you look afraid—you are afraid, and you're beyond caring. You shouldn't have come here.

You turn abruptly. You have no idea where you're going, but maybe if you act like you do, you'll throw them off. You take another turn, then another, and you look behind you to check if—

Wham!

You crash into a body. A muscled body, one that forces you backwards.

White, glowing eyes that smolder inside a red helmet meet your own.

Jason's never warned you about the Red Hood. He just tells you to stay away from the area altogether. You don't really need to be warned about Hood anyway. You know what he's about. You know you've probably just sealed your fate tonight.

"What the fuck?" he asks, modulated voice rough.

"I'm sorry," you babble. "Please don't hurt m—"

Gunshots ring out, and you realize you've just stumbled into an active gunfight. With Red Hood.

Fuck your luck.

The gunmen have spotted you, and they take great pleasure in using you as a distraction; they fire at you instead of Hood.

He shields you with his body, blocking the bullets. It works until a flash grenade is thrown, and you're separated from Hood, ears ringing. You hit the ground hard from the impact, scraping your hands and arms.

Someone's arm wraps around your neck, and you're suddenly dragged backward. You scream, scratching at the arm, and a fist thumps your head. You blink at the pain, too dazed to keep fighting.

"We had a deal, Hood!" your captor shouts, arm tightening around your neck. "Let us go or she dies!"

"Negation's over," Red Hood snarls, and shoots all four men.

You cry as the shot echoes too close to your face and for a moment, you fear you've been shot too. The now dead man slips off of you, collapsing in a heap on the ground.

Your ankle protests when you step on it. In the chaos of the fight, you hadn't realized you sprained it. You trip and fall on your butt, scrambling away from the pooling blood.

"What are you doing here?" Hood growls at you, stalking closer.

You start to cry, edging backward.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt your fight, please d-don't kill me—"

You press down hard on your wrist and that hurts more than your ankle. You cry harder at the pain, grabbing your wrist.

Red Hood gets closer, and you try to scramble away with one arm and one leg. He kneels down and holds your good arm in place so you can't move.

"I'm sorry!" you say again, tears thick on your lashes.

"Fuck," Hood says roughly, and unlocks his helmet.

Your eyes widen as he pulls it off.

"J—"

"I told you to never come to this area, and you come alone, in the fucking dark, without a weapon? What the hell is wrong with you?" Jason snarls.

"Please don't yell at me," you whisper, covering your face with your hands.

You're shaking, adrenaline turning your stomach. A moment later, you throw up.

"Shit," Jason says and puts a hand on your stomach to help you sit back up. "Shit, I'm an asshole. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell."

"I thought you died," you say, daring to look at him. "You weren't answering my calls, and you only go out at night. I thought..."

Jason immediately looks avalanched by guilt. He cradles you to his chest.

"Fuck. I'm sorry. I should've—I thought it would be better, leaving."

"I didn't want you to leave," you cry, arms curling around his neck. "I love you so much, Jay. I was so scared. Don't leave me again."

Jason's breath hitches. You freeze, suddenly sure you've screwed it all up.

"Jay—"

"Y'love me?" he asks, cupping your cheek.

You nod emphatically.

"Even though I'm..." He gestures to the helmet.

"I'm just happy you're alive," you say. "I missed you so much, Jason."

His arms tighten around you. "God, I missed you too, baby. I was going crazy not talking to you. I'm sorry I ignored you. Wasn't right of me. But don't ever do this again, okay? If I hadn't been here—"

He takes a shuddering breath and kisses your neck. You nod against his shoulder.

"I promise. Just don't shut me out again, please."

Jason's quiet for a moment. You can feel him thinking.

"This isn't gonna be normal," he says. "If-if we do this. This is part of me. Who I am."

"I don't care," you say. "I love you, Jay. Every part. Whatever that entails."

[letsstargaze]

when i want fluff/angst fics and all i’m getting is smut

the struggle is real

[letsstargaze]

stay

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Reader

summary: You’re in Jackson with Joel and Ellie after Salt Lake City and the loss of somebody you failed to protect haunts you and leaves you wondering if the wound will ever heal—and how you’ll ever go on if it never does.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. JACKSON ERA. child death, reader takes the life of a child. (TW) implied panic attack, implied SI, reader has a moment where she contemplates taking her own life, NO ACTUAL ATTEMPT. angst, soft, caring Joel. no age specified for reader, no physical descriptions of reader.

word count: 3.7k

2024

Late Spring

Jackson, Wyoming

You’d woken up early that morning, right before sunrise.

Eyes fluttering open, you blinked furiously into the darkness of the bedroom. Your bedroom.

Your bedroom in an actual house. One that didn’t have crumbling, dusty walls.

One that was an actual, real place to call home.

As you tried to move, the strong arm around your waist tightened and held you firmly in place.

Turning your head, you saw Joel’s face just inches away from yours. He was still fast asleep, his bare chest slowly rising and falling with each and every peaceful, tranquil breath he inhaled and exhaled through slightly parted lips. He’d finally stopped mumbling in his sleep.

You’d been in Jackson with him and Ellie for just about a week or so now, and you still hadn’t quite gotten used to it—waking up in a soft, warm bed with his arms around you.

Maybe you would never get used to it.

Being careful not to wake Joel, you slipped out of his grasp and sat up. Swinging your legs over the side of your shared bed, you planted your two feet on the cold, hardwood floors and stood up, doing your best to move around without having to turn the lights on so as not to disturb his slumber. You quickly but quietly searched around, using both of your hands to feel for the thin, cotton white tank top and dark gray pajama bottoms that had been discarded, strewn somewhere across the master bedroom the previous night by none other than Joel Miller himself. He had gotten rid of them as he’d hovered over you, tossing them carelessly over his shoulder so that he could spend the next several hours learning every single part of your body, almost as if he’d been getting to know it for the very first time.

It took you a minute, but you’d finally found your clothes, tugging them on before padding your way into the bathroom where you flipped on the lights and began running the water in the sink to brush your teeth—hell, even having a clean toothbrush and real toothpaste were sweet little luxuries that were also taking some getting used to.

You finished washing your mouth and splashed a bit of cool water onto your face, drying it off with a hand towel before turning off the sink as well as the lights. Leaving yours and Joel’s bedroom, you made your way downstairs into the kitchen. Joel and Ellie were also early risers, and they would be up within the hour. Since you were up, you figured it would be nice to have a hot breakfast ready and waiting for them.

First thing was first, you started an instant pot of coffee for yourself and for Joel, although truth be told it was mostly for Joel, as the man refused to drink anything else in the mornings. As it brewed and the dark brown liquid dripped slowly into the glass pot, you moved over to the refrigerator and pulled open the door. The sight of a fridge stocked with real, proper food was almost like a fucking dream. You reached for the small basket of farm fresh chicken eggs that you’d picked up from the community’s market earlier that week when you and Ellie had gone food shopping. You set it down on the counter and looked through the wooden cabinets, grabbing a large, white porcelain bowl to scramble up the eggs in. You held it in your hands, an odd feeling washing over you.

Oh yes, this would all certainly taking some getting used to, all of it of it would take some getting used to—having shelter, running water, food and clean clothes. Not spending every goddamn fucking day fighting just to survive.

You glanced down at the bowl you gripped in your two hands, and felt your heart squeeze painfully inside of your chest.

Any normal person would have been relieved to be in this safe haven. Happy, even.

But not you, because all that you could think about was Lily, and how she wasn’t here.

2023

Early Fall

Midwest United States

The bite mark was on her shoulder.

It was still fresh, but the clock was already ticking like a time bomb.

You knew that. She knew that.

Everyone in that fucking basement knew that.

“Please,” Lily begged you, clutching fistfuls of your jacket. “Please.”

“No,” You choked out, feeling like someone had just punched you in the gut, knocking all the wind out out of your lungs. You turned back and looked over your shoulder at Joel, who stood there with his jaw clenched tightly, his dark brown eyes fixed on the dirty floor. Beside him, Ellie was wringing her hands together, fighting back her tears. You turned back to Lily, somehow finding your voice again. “No. I can’t do it. I won’t fucking do it.”

You blamed yourself for this.

The house the four of you had chosen to occupy for the night hadn’t been completely cleared out. You should have known better than to even think about cutting corners, you should have checked every goddamn room from the ground up, twice. If you had been more thorough, you would have realized that there had been a clicker down in the basement, silent and still, that is until Ellie and Lily had gone off exploring the entire house in such of possible supplies and garnered its attention, riling it up. It had gone after the girls while you and Joel were upstairs, and although Ellie had managed to shoot it dead in seconds, the damage had been done—the clicker managed to sink its teeth into your twelve year old sister, infecting her.

“Please, please don’t let me turn into one of those things,” Lily sank down, falling onto her knees in front of you. Letting go of your jacket, she clasped her hands together in a pleading motion. “Please! I don’t want to turn, not like mom and dad did. Not like Sam did. I need you to end it here, right now before it’s too late.”

“No!” You bit out the word once again through gritted teeth, white hot tears burning your eyes. “I won’t do that.”

Joel stood there, not knowing what to say or what to do.

Hell, there was really nothing he could say or do, was there?

Lily was infected—it was already a fucking death sentence.

And while he understood that she wanted to go out her way, he also understood that you couldn’t even fathom having to do the unthinkable. That you couldn’t even think about putting a bullet in your kid sister.

“I don’t have the guts to do it myself,” Lily said, her voice trembling. “I barely know how to use a gun. Please, you have to do it for me.”

You stared at her desperate face, the first of every single fucking tear that you would ever cry for the rest of your life finally slipping out of the corner of your eye and trickling its way down your cheek.

It was what Lily truly wanted, but how could you take her life?

The child that you’d raised yourself for the last ten years. Life could be so fucking cruel in a world like this one, but this, this was something else.

Still, what other choice was there?

It was either end it now, or abandon her in this old, crumbling house, leaving her all by herself to lose her mind.

Lily didn’t want that, and if her one final wish was to die on her terms, then you had no other choice but to fucking grant it for her. It didn’t matter how hard it was going to break you.

She didn’t have another option, and neither did you.

“Okay.” The agreement finally left your lips shakily. Your heart slammed hard against your chest wall, and your entire body had gone ice cold. “Okay.”

“No!” Ellie screamed, shoving you out of the way so roughly that she almost knocked you over. She grabbed Lily and hoisted her to her feet, wrapping her arms around her. Ellie held Lily protectively against her side, eyeing the spot where she knew you kept your gun tucked in the waistband of your jeans. “No, please, there has to be something we can fucking do!” She thought back to Sam and how what she’d done with her blood and his bite wound hadn’t worked to save his life. She held Lily tighter, knowing nothing else could be done and that her name would only be added to the growing list of people that she’d lost.

“Ellie,” Joel said her name softly, the softest that anyone had heard him say it since she’d come into your lives.

Her brown eyes met his and a tear escaped her.

“Fuck,” she whispered, devastated.

“It’s okay, Ellie. It’ll be okay.” Lily placed a hand on her arm. As she did so, everyone caught a glimpse of the way it’d twitched. “I don’t have much time left,” she said, nudging Ellie. She turned to face her, and offered her an encouraging smile. “Keep on going, okay? Do it for Tess. Do it for Sam. Do it for me. Do it for the whole world. Promise me that you’re gonna make it to the Fireflies. Promise me that you’re gonna make it to the very end. Please.”

“I promise I’ll make it to the end,” Ellie whispered, pulling her into her arms one last time.

Joel looked at you as you took out your pistol with a trembling hand.

“M’so sorry,” he whispered, gently touching your shoulder. He then turned to Ellie and beckoned for her with his hand. As much as Joel didn’t want to leave you to do this alone, he knew he had to get Ellie out of there and out of the house. “C’mon.”

Helpless, Ellie meekly nodded her head without protest.

“Joel, be sure to cover her ears,” You instructed him quietly. “Even outside she might still be able to hear it.”

Joel gave a small, tight nod of his head. He walked over and gingerly touched Lily’s cheek in his silent goodbye to her before taking Ellie’s arm. “Let’s go,” he murmured, pulling her over towards the stairs. A few seconds later, the two of them were gone and the door of the basement shut closed with a loud, aggressive slam that you knew had to have come from Ellie.

Swallowing harshly, you went up to Lily. Taking her into your arms, you pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. It felt abnormally warm, a sure fire sign that the infection was running rampant inside of her—that she was running out of time.

“I’m sorry ,” Your voice broke in the middle of your apology. You held her close, your hand cradling the back of her head as she nuzzled her face into your neck, inhaling your scent deeply for the very last time. “I’m so sorry that I couldn’t keep you safe and sound like I promised I would.”

“Look at it this way.” Lily’s arms tightened around your waist. “Nothing or no one will ever be able to hurt me ever again. I’m gonna be safe up there in heaven with mom and dad and the three of us are gonna be watching over you. And Ellie and Joel, too.”

It was unbelievable. Here she was, fucking twelve years old and about to die, and she was trying to comfort you.

You held her even closer, nearly smothering her as the two of you began to cry in each other’s arms.

After a few minutes, Lily pulled away from you.

Her twitches were becoming more frequent with each second that ticked by.

“Please, let’s just do this before it’s too late,” she said, dabbing at her eyes with the back of her jerking hand.

You rigidly nodded your head, your legs feeling like jello as you took several steps backwards, leaving about six feet of distance between the both of you.

You lifted your arm, aiming the barrel of the gun at your little sister.

“I love you,” Lily offered you a feeble, watery smile.

“I love you too,” You whispered back to her before your finger finally pulled the trigger.

You closed your eyes, your heart sinking deeply as you tried to forget the way that she’d been gone before her body had even hit the cold, hard ground of that basement.

Instead, you tried to think of something else. But you just couldn’t.

Lily should have been here with you. With Joel, with Ellie. Her family.

Not dead, buried in a shallow grave somewhere in the middle of fucking nowhere.

She would have been so happy here in Jackson.

Safe.

She would have been safe.

“She’s gone,” You told yourself, willing the fact to get through your thick skull once and for all.

As the image of your sister’s sweet smile came into your mind again, something in you finally snapped, like a rubber band that had been pulled too tight for far too long.

“She’s gone!” Your scream tore itself from the back of your throat. “She’s gone! She’s fucking gone and she’s not coming back!”

Taking the bowl in your hands, you flung it across the kitchen with all your might, watching it as it hit the wall and shattered into pieces. You turned back towards the cabinet, both hands reaching for anything and everything you could get your hands on—plates, bowls, glasses. Once the cabinet had been emptied out, you went for all of the dishes and appliances on the counter, throwing and breaking everything in sight. When you’d finally run out of items to destroy, you sank down to your knees right onto a pile of broken glass. As you did so, you noticed one particularly large shard of glass with a pointed, jagged edge.

Picking it up, you grasped it so tightly in your trembling hand that you began to bleed as it sliced into your palm.

Was it even fucking worth it?

Being alive without her?

What was the fucking point?

The guilt of what happened to Lily would eat you alive for the rest of your life, especially here in Jackson, where you were living the very same life that you had wanted to provide for your sister for so many fucking years but never could.

Your eyes glazed over the sharp point of the glass, and then flickered to the thin, delicate flesh of the lower portion of your forearm—a gun would be so much quicker, less messy. It would be painless, and a hell of a lot better than nicking a vein and letting yourself bleed out on the kitchen floor.

But if the opportunity presented itself, why not take it regardless of the method?

Still clutching the glass, images of Joel and Ellie suddenly flashed in your mind.

They were family.

Your family.

As much as you wanted to put an end to the pain, you knew with every fiber of your being that Lily would want you to stay. If not for yourself, then for them. Because that was the kind of girl she was.

So good, so sweet. Full of hope.

Everything had blurred and your mind was lost in such a thick haze that it took you a minute to realize that Joel was shouting your name—the sounds of your screaming, of glass and porcelain breaking, it had woken both him and Ellie and they had ran down the stairs in a panic.

Ellie gasped your name and started towards you, but Joel grabbed her and held her back when he realized she was barefoot. “Careful, the glass!”

“Joel, fucking do something!” Ellie demanded, her eyes widening in horror when she saw the glass in your hand and the way that you’d been looking at your wrist in something of a trance.

Joel hadn’t been wearing any shoes either, hell, he’d barely managed to tug a shirt on over his head and it was inside out, but he quickly and carefully made is his way over to you. He crouched down beside you and immediately took your arm, giving it a shake so you would drop the shard of glass.

His warm touch brought you back to earth.

“Joel?” You squeaked out his name, your heart pounding.

You felt tears prickling at your eyes, and you opened your mouth to let out a sob, but nothing came out. Your cries were lodged in the back of your throat and you felt stuck in your lungs. You suddenly felt like you couldn’t take a breath and started to hyperventilate.

“Hey, hey, hey. Breathe. Look at me,” he said. He palmed the side of your face and gently, but firmly forced you to meet his gaze. Your eyes were wide, pupils dilated. “Look at me, I’m here. We’re both here, me and Ellie. We’re right here. Breathe for me darlin,’ just breathe.”

You frantically nodded, as if to tell him, I’m trying.

It took a minute or two until finally, your gasps for air slowed down.

When they finally did, you began sobbing uncontrollably.

“Oh baby. C’mere,” Joel murmured. He pulled you up to your feet and moved you to a spot that wasn’t covered in broken dishware. He held you against his chest, stroking your hair.

Ellie joined in, and they both just held you in silence until your wails of agony subsided several minutes later.

“I’m sorry,” You apologized through little hiccups. “I’m so sorry—”

“Don’t fucking be sorry,” Ellie immediately stopped you, her hand rubbing at your back. She pulled back and looked at the blood stain on Joel’s light gray t-shirt. “Oh shit, Joel. Her hand, look at her hand.”

Joel looked down, alarmed, but he remained calm. “Ellie, go upstairs into our bathroom. There’s a first aid kid under the sink.”

She nodded and whirled around, bolting out of the kitchen.

In the blink of an eye, she’d returned with a small white tin box with a red cross etched onto the lid. She handed it to him. “Here.”

Taking it in one hand, Joel used his other hand to guide you over to the kitchen table. He sat you down and then pulled a chair out for himself, taking a seat across from you.

“She going to be okay?” Ellie asked, worriedly.

“Doesn’t look too deep, at least not deep enough to need stitches. It should be okay,” Joel stated as he opened up the first aid kit. “Ellie, mind if I have a minute alone with her?” He saw her open her mouth to protest and gave her a look. “Please.”

She huffed, but nodded. She touched your shoulder lightly and left the room, though both you and Joel were positive she’d stick around out in the hallway to eavesdrop.

“I’m sorry,” You whispered hoarsely, breaking a silence that had fallen over the two of you. “I’ll clean this mess up—”

“You think that’s what I’m worried about?” Joel asked, placing your hand in his lap as he poured hydrogen peroxide onto a wad of cotton. He picked it up and gingerly started cleaning your wound. He sighed, shaking his head. “Funny thing is, I knew you’d snap sooner or later. But truth be told, darlin’ I didn’t think this would be the way you’d let it all out.”

You stared at him. “What do you mean you knew I’d snap?”

Joel looked up from your cut, his gaze meeting yours. “I know you like I know the back of my own fuckin’ hand,” he reminded you. “And I know what you’ve been carryin’ around after what happened with Lily. That feelin’ you’ve been bottlin’ up for months now. I know what it’s like to carry that kinda burden on your shoulders. It’s heavy, and at some point, you ain’t got no choice but to put it down.” He paused. “Only, I was hopin’ you would do so by talkin’ to me, not destroyin’ the kitchen of this house.”

“I don’t know what happened,” You admitted, softly. “One minute I was down here getting ready to make us all breakfast, and the next, I just fucking lost it.” You chewed anxiously on your bottom lip. “I just kept thinking about how Lily should be here with us. And how she would be, if I hadn’t failed her.”

Joel frowned. “You didn’t—”

“I fucking did, Joel. I failed at protecting my sister. I failed at keeping her safe, alive.”

Letting out another sigh, he leaned forward and pressed his lips against your forehead. He spoke, his lips ghosting over your skin. “Baby, you can’t keep blamin’ yourself for somethin’ that was out of your control.”

“But it was in my control, Joel. I should have checked every goddamn crevice of that fucking house, because if I had, Lily would still be alive. She would be here in Jackson with us, living the life that she always deserved to live.”

Joel leaned his forehead against yours. “Look, I know that nothin’ I say is goin’ to make it better. Nothin’ I say is goin’ to bring her back and m’sorry,” he said. “But you need to know that it wasn’t your fault. You did the best you could. I know that her bein’ gone hurts. Trust me I know that feelin’ all too well.”

Another tear slipped down the side of your face and he reached up, lightly brushing it away with his thumb.

Of course he knew the feeling.

The scar on his temple was a testament of how well he knew that feeling, of how he knew exactly what it felt like to want to end it all after losing someone so precious.

Only, he had actually tried to end it all.

Joel’s voice broke into your thoughts. “I need you to know that you’re not alone, baby. You ain’t gotta carry your grief alone. You’ve got Ellie, and you sure as hell got me. We’re both here to help you through anythin’ that you need, alright? We’ve got you—I’ve got you.”

“I know you do.” Your voice broke once more and you swallowed back another sob.

Joel brushed his lips against yours. Sitting back into his chair he lifted your hand and inspected it thoroughly. “Don’t think there’s any glass in it,” he observed. He started bandaging your hand with a roll of gauze from the first aid kit.

“Thank you, Joel,” You murmured as soon as he had finished patching you up. “And I’m sorry. Not about the mess, but about what I thought about doing.”

Joel reached out, cradling the side of your face. His thumb grazed the soft skin of your cheek. “I need you to stay, baby,” he whispered, his own voice thickening with emotion. “Me and Ellie, we both need you to stay. You understand me?”

You placed your hand on top of his, nodding as your eyes met his once more.

“I’ll stay,” You promised him.

[letsstargaze]

Hi I’m back because couples who aren’t together just yet are EVERYTHING

And the new theme?? The icon?? Sanne 😍

May I request “you matter so much to me” with Dick? A little angsty if you’re feeling it?

hey there!!! thank you hehe i felt it was time for a theme change bc fall ❤️ hope you like it! thanks for sending a request 🥰

dick grayson x gn!reader. tw: reader is injured but not much description of the injury, mention of bombing, dick being a protective sweetheart, love confession.

****

You're probably being paranoid.

You probably don't need to call Dick. He'll definitely be busy right now. And you call him way too much as it is.

Wally had asked last month if you two were dating, which had been a humiliating conversation, so you've been vigilant about not clinging to Dick so much. You're just friends. That's all you'll ever be.

These two guys at the train station are really freaking you out, though. What do all the posters say? See something, say something?

You take a deep breath and dial.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Dick," you say tentatively.

"Hey!" Dick says, sounding slightly breathless. "Hey, how are you? I've missed you, what have you been up to?"

The smile in his voice makes you ache. Fuck. You should've just called an Uber.

"Hey. I'm okay. Sorry for not calling, I've been, uh, swamped at work."

"That's okay. It's nice to hear from you."

You melt. "It's nice to hear from you, too."

One of the guys across the station tosses a duffel bag inside of a storage closet and closes the door, then locks it. Right. Back to why you called.

"Dick, I think these two guys at the train station might be up to something. I could be wrong! I-I'm probably wrong, but—"

"What are they doing?" he asks, and you can hear him shifting to Nightwing Mode.

"They threw a duffel bag into a closet, but they don't look like workers. And—"

One of them lifts his coat, and you see a holstered gun. Shit.

"Oh my God," you whisper. "One of them has a gun."

"Get out of there," Dick orders. "I'm on my way. I'll pick you up. Meet me on the corner of Mason and Jewel."

"Okay," you say, heartbeat rabbiting. "Okay, um, Mason and Jewel. Got it."

"It'll be okay," he says, a little gentler this time. "I won't let anything happen to you, alright? Go somewhere where there's a lot of people, and stay on the line."

You take a deep breath. "O-okay. I trust you."

You head for the stairs when the ground rumbles under your feet. People begin to shout and you run faster, trying to make it out of the station.

"What's happening, honey? Talk to me," Dick urges.

You hardly register the honey in your panic.

"The ground's shaking. Dick—"

Something knocks into your back and you crumple to the floor, phone falling from your hand. Everything goes black.

****

You open your eyes to blackness, and for a moment, you're afraid you've lost your sight. But then the shadows become clearer, and you can make out distinct, albeit dimly lit, shapes.

You try to form a word but the air has been sucked out of your lungs and it sounds more like a wheeze.

The surface beneath you is soft and firm. There's a blanket over your shoulders.

You rasp out a sound that's an attempt at 'hello.' Your lips are cracked, and your throat feels like you chugged cement.

A hand rests on your forehead. You try to sit up.

"Easy, easy. Don't try moving just yet."

Dick is in his Nightwing suit, but the mask is off. You blink at him slowly. You'd almost forgotten how blue his eyes are.

"Can you tell me your birthday?" he asks, continuing to stroke your face.

You tell him your birthday. Your throat feels like sandpaper, and a straw is pushed to your lips. You drink the water greedily.

"Wha' happ'd?" you ask.

"There was a small bomb. Half the station collapsed." Dick sucks in a deep breath and seems to steel himself. "You, um, you hit your head pretty hard. I found you and brought you back to the Batcave. I want to monitor you overnight just in case."

Your eyes widen. "Batcave?"

Dick smiles. "The one and only. I'll give you a tour later."

You frown. "Shouldn't you be out there?"

"Oh." Dick rubs his neck. "Well, uh, the others have got it pretty much covered. But I can give you space, if-if you're tired or something. Uh, Alfred's upstairs if you need anyth—"

You shake your head. "Not kicking you out, Dickie. Just don't wanna keep you from important stuff."

Dick leans in, looking at you intently.

"You're important."

You smile and look away, belly swooping at his seriousness.

"Oh. Thank you, Dick."

"I mean it," he says fiercely, then swallows. "You are... you're one of the most important people in my life. You matter so much to me. I should've said so earlier, and I guess today was the kick in the pants I needed."

You turn to him, eyes wide. "What are you saying?"

Dick slips his hand into yours, rubbing your knuckles with his thumb.

"Every day, I see how fragile life is," Dick says. "Witnessed it for myself, too. I can't—I don't want to pretend that I don't care about you as much as I do. That I don't wish we were more. And if you don't feel the same way, then that's okay, but I needed to say something before—"

"Dick," you murmur.

He stops. "Yeah?"

"Kiss me."

He blinks once, twice, then wastes no more time. Dick cups your jaw with both hands. It's almost overwhelming, the way Dick Grayson kisses you like you're the only person in the universe.

His hair is just as soft as you imagined, and you tangle your other hand in it, massaging the base of his neck. Dick makes a quiet whine in the back of his throat, and you hungrily swallow the sound.

"Ahem."

You flinch apart, and Dick covers his mouth. He glances at you through his lashes, and the look promises that he's not finished with you.

All excitement about said promise self-destructs when you see Batman standing ten feet away. Even under the cowl, he looks unimpressed.

"Nightwing," he says. "Taking care of our patient?"

Oh God. You're never setting foot in Gotham again.

"Excellent care," Dick says, apparently used to Batman's cheek.

"Hn. I expect a report of the station incident tomorrow."

"Of course. Do you need me out there?"

"No. It's handled." Batman looks at you. "You are welcome to join us for dinner."

He swooshes away with a truly unnecessary jump into the Batmobile. You wait until he's gone before groaning and putting your face in your hands.

"Oh my God, I just made out with you in front of Batman. I can never face him."

Dick pulls you into his arms, kissing your temple.

"Are you kidding? He basically just welcomed you into the family. I knew he'd like you."

[letsstargaze]

im begging you to write a part 2 of vigilante reader because the way you write??? the dynamic between reader and jason??? the sex tension???are chef kiss!!!

thanks very much! part 2 and I couldn't put off the reveal bc I'm just too impatient lol 🫶 but I might write another part post-reveal? maybe? cuz I'm growing attached to these two <3

jason todd x gn!vigilante!reader (nocturne). tw explosions, smoke inhalation, reader passes out, canon typical violence, identity reveal, asshole bruce. jason is in love? jason is in love.

read pt 1 here! | all fics are reblogged to @sanguinelibrary

****

"Go home."

"Bruce, I—"

Bruce looks at you, eyes sharp with fury and... something else. Something older.

The others know how to talk back. You still haven't gained the courage to sass The Batman.

"Go. Home. If you need an escort, I can call Superman."

You take a step back at his coldness.

"Bruce, I know I messed up, letting Hood escape but—"

"Yes, you did. You deliberately disobeyed an order. I told everybody to stand down. He could've killed you."

But he didn't, you don't say. He could've, but he chose not to.

He'd felt safe.

"I had it under control, honestly. He wasn't—it wasn't like the other encounters you've had with him. He wouldn't have hurt me."

That is the wrong thing to say. You realize that after the words leave your mouth and the muscles in Bruce's jaw jump.

"You can't be this naive. I know I wouldn't have chosen someone who's this naive," he says savagely. "You know Hood can't be trusted, and you're defending him to me. We've seen time and again he's rogue. He doesn't make sense and that's exactly why he's dangerous."

"But if you would just listen—"

"Enough," he snaps. "Enough. Go home. I'm suspending you for three weeks."

"Three w—I'm not even injured!" you cry.

"No, but you need the time. You're not thinking clearly. Go. I don't want to see you until next month."

You press your lips together before you say something truly foul. Something about Batman's habit of pushing people away. Something about dead Robins.

You don't let the tears fall until you leave the Cave. This is all Hood's fault. You know it would've been a different conversation if you'd managed to successfully capture him.

You'll take down the Red Hood if it's the last thing you do.

****

It takes you approximately two days to break your suspension.

In your defense, you meant to follow Bruce's orders. You would've stayed put and helped Barbara with research instead.

But not at the expense of civilian lives.

"All units to Canal and Riverview, 10-80. Standby. Do not enter the factory until given clearance from the Bomb Squad."

You turn off the police scanner and stuff it in your drawer. In Gotham, explosions usually come in multiples. If there's one, there's bound to be another. The police are generally inept when it comes to evacuating civilians. You know one of the other Bats are on their way, but you're the closest to the docks.

You glance at your suit. No. If you go as Nocturne, Batman might suspend you indefinitely.

You grab your gas mask and put on a black hoodie and a domino mask. You'll just have to make do.

The marina is blanketed in thick smoke. It makes your eyes water. But in the commotion it causes, you're able to slip past the barriers and help workers out of the factory. It's difficult because without the suit, people don't give you the same trust and respect. But you're anonymous, and that's all that matters.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

You ignore the voice and keep hauling two elderly workers towards the exit. They're barely outside before you turn around, determined to clear every level of the factory.

You're yanked backward by a hand on your hoodie. You nearly lose your footing, but the hand is firm, dragging you towards the pier.

You're spun around and put face to face with a red helmet.

Oh, of all the fucking—

"Let go of me!" you shout, smacking his arm. Hood's grip tightens.

"I will as soon as you stop doing stupid shit. What were you thinking, coming here?"

You pause. Whoops. This isn't how a plain civilian would react to being apprehended by the Red Hood.

And that's definitely not how the Red Hood would react to getting swatted by a random civilian. Shit.

"I was, um, I was thinking I could help," you say haltingly. "P-please don't hurt me, Mr. Hood, I was—"

Hood sighs and lets you go, then tucks his gun into his holster.

"Cut the shit. I know you're Nocturne. I also know that you need some acting lessons because what the hell was that? Mr. Hood?"

A chill washes over you. "I don't know what you mean. Nocturne?"

Hood shakes his head. "I don't have time for this. The building's gonna collapse any second. Stay. Put."

He goes back toward the smoking entrance. Your eye twitches as you follow him.

"Last time I checked, you don't have that kind of authority, Hood."

He turns around and looms over you. "Don't I?"

Anyone else would back down. You might've a week ago. You should, after the tongue lashing Bruce gave you.

But there's no soot on Hood's helmet or vest. He doesn't smell sweet like gasoline or pungent like motor oil.

He was in the factory to help.

Something shifts. Batman is wrong. Batman is more wrong than he's ever been.

Because Hood's not the enemy here. Not anymore. Maybe not ever.

You push past Hood. "It'll be faster if we work together."

"Oh, absolutely not. You're not even in your suit."

"As per your request," you say, flashing a plastic smile. "You're welcome."

"Don't get cute with me, you—hey!"

You dart past him and go straight into the factory. Hood shouts your name, which makes you pause, just for a moment.

But revealed identity or not, you need to clear the building. So you pull on your mask and run faster.

Your worst fear is confirmed when you check the upper level: someone was missed in the evacuation. It's a worker, and she's unconscious.

You don't think about how explosions come in pairs in Gotham. Don't think about how long it'll take to get to the exit.

You take off your mask and slide it onto her face. The smoke burns your throat immediately, but you ignore it and lift her in a fireman carry, just as you were taught all those years ago by Robin. He's the one who taught you how to save people without relying on brute strength or height.

You hope he's alright, wherever he is. You hope he's not too upset seeing you rush into a burning building.

That's your last thought when you see the entrance. Your face is covered in sweat and grime. The heat from the fires is exhausting. You can feel your eyes beginning to close.

"There's something seriously wrong with you," a decoded voice says in your ear, and then the woman's weight is lifted from your shoulders.

Hood grabs your hand, the woman over his opposite shoulder, and you make it out just as the second explosion goes off. It knocks you forward.

Hood puts the woman down just in time to catch you. His arm is around your waist, the other hand cradling your head. His gloved thumb touches your mouth, and you feel his dawning realization as he finally sees your mask on the woman.

"Don't tell Ba'man," you slur.

"Jesus fuck—" Hood starts to drag you. You feel lightheaded. He's moving, and you wish he'd stop. "You don't take off your mask. You never take off your mask. We taught you that!"

"She was unconscious, J'y..."

Arms tighten around you. Everything goes dark.

****

You wake up to the smell of scrambling eggs.

For a moment, you just bask in the smell. It smells like Alfred's breakfast scramble. Bacon. Butter. Golden potatoes.

Then you wake up further and realize that you're not in the Manor. You're in your apartment.

So who's cooking?

You get up quietly, slipping out of your room. You pause in front of the full-length mirror.

Honestly, you've looked worse. Your hair needs a wash, and you're in the same clothes you went into the building with, which are now a little charred. But your face is clean of soot, and your throat hurts only a little.

The kitchen sink runs. You slowly creep out into the living room, keeping your breathing even and silent.

The mess of black hair, you recognize. Sort of. You might've mistaken him for Bruce if you didn't know that Bruce has a lifetime ban from kitchens all over the world.

He's too tall to be Dick. Too skilled in the kitchen to be Bruce. Too nice to be Bruce, too—you can't imagine Bruce Wayne making you eggs. Especially when you disobeyed his orders. Again.

The red helmet on the kitchen stool turns your blood to ice.

You grab the letter opener from a drawer and wait a few seconds to see if Hood's heard you. Then you throw the letter opener with near perfect aim at his exposed shoulder.

He catches it without turning.

Your heart skips a beat. Every time you think you might get the drop on him, Hood reminds you just how competent he really is.

A mix of fear, aggravation, and something you don't want to examine too closely swirls in your gut.

"Impressive," he says. "Dami been training you? Mama Al-Ghul spent a lot of time on his knife lessons."

"Why are you in my apartment?"

Hood sets the letter opener down on the counter and turns off the stove. Then he serves the breakfast scramble on two plates, then sprinkles chives over them.

This is the weirdest kidnapping ever.

He sighs, back still facing you.

"You can't tell anyone it's me," he says.

"You make a lot of demands for a guy who just used the last of my eggs."

Hood laughs. It sounds wet. It sounds like grief.

"God, I've missed ya, honeylove."

Your heart pounds. You try to find another weapon, anything. Hood doesn't give you the chance.

He turns around.

The first thing you see is the stark white streak of hair and the curls you once loved. The curls that were near unrecognizable in the casket.

You were right: Batman was wrong.

[letsstargaze]

crushin' | jason todd

Summary: Barbara invites you to dinner with the Bats. She's done so before, and you've always declined, but this time, you agree because the Bat you've had a crush on for ages will be there. Little do you know, the only reason he's staying for dinner is because of you.

Pairing: Jason Todd x gn!reader 

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings/tags: batfam shenanigans, dick is a good meddling brother and deserves a fruit basket, fluff and humor, kissing, crushes, love confessions. just wanted to write something sweet and light :)

the divider

"So you're gonna press this," Barbara says, demonstrating on her own screen.

You follow along, clicking and typing. She nods.

"Good. Then you're gonna do this."

You open the file. A video of what looks to be Bruce drunkenly hula-hooping pops up. Your eyes widen.

"And that's how you keep Bruce in check," Barbara says, patting your shoulder. "Use sparingly. Only when he's getting on your last nerve."

"Wow," you say. "Babs, I... I don't know if I should have this kind of power."

"No, it's cool. I have dirt on everyone in this family, so really, it's my power. You're the only one who gets to see the vault."

You look at her. "You scare me."

She grins. "Thanks! Anyway, you're free to go. They'll be back from the mission soon, so our job is pretty much over."

The computer beeps. She checks the notification and types back. Then she hums.

"Or, you can, y'know, join us for dinner. Alfred keeps wondering when you'll do so."

You press your lips together. "I dunno, Babs... are you sure? I don't want to intrude."

"You're not. Seriously. And you know what I just found out? Jason will be here too."

Well. That does certainly stop your refusal in its tracks. You haven't seen Jason properly since he returned. You feel a pang of guilt at that; true, he's never at the Manor, at least not when you're around. But you could've reached out by now.

Still, being able to see him again properly is a wonderful opportunity. One you can't pass up.

"Okay," you say. "I'll join you all. As long as Alfred's okay with it."

She rolls her eyes, smiles. "Don't be ridiculous. C'mon."

You follow her to the elevator Bruce got installed for her. In the Manor, most of the family are sitting down to dinner. Damian and Cass are on one side of the table. Bruce is at the head. Alfred is still bustling in the kitchen.

You start to pull out the chair next to Cass, but Barbara startles you.

"That's Dick's chair!" She smiles sympathetically. "Sorry. He's particular. Isn't he, guys?"

"Yes," Cass says. "He's comfortable here."

"I've no idea what you're referring to, Gordon," says Damian. He nods at you. "Hello."

You smile. "Hey, Damian. That's fine. I'll sit next to you, Babs." You sit in the middle of three chairs, with Barbara on your right and an empty chair on your left.

"Hi, Cass. Hello, Mr. Wayne."

"Bruce," he reminds you. That's not happening. It feels way too weird to call him Bruce, even though you've known him since Jason was Robin. Just, no.

Cass smiles. "Hello. Glad to have you."

"Where's Tim and Duke?" you ask.

"Thomas is at university," Damian says. "Drake is probably with that idiot clone he calls a boyfriend."

Bruce looks up. "Tim and Connor are dating?"

"Good God," Barbara mumbles.

"Well, yes, Father. They've been dating for quite some time, even shared a room together. Last month, Drake went undercover in Atlantic City and the clone—"

"Old man! Where are you?"

"Jason, just—"

"Shut it, Dickhead."

The grandfather clock swings open, revealing the Cave entrance. Up stomps Jason, followed by Dick. Jason has a smear of purple goo on his forehead, but otherwise is clean. His back is to you.

Jason points an accusing gloved finger at Bruce. "You owe me a new bike, new guns, new gear, new phone, new—"

"Jason, slow down. Why exactly do I owe you new things?" Bruce asks.

"Because Tweedle-Dum here didn't scan the fuckin' spaceship that landed in Syracuse and melted my bike with purple goo!"

"It said it was empty," Dick says tiredly. "How was I supposed to know an abandoned ship would spit goo?"

"Okay, alright, boys, don't fight. Yes, Jason, I'll compensate everything you lost in Syracuse."

"Yeah, you will. And a new fridge." Jason thinks. "And a new TV."

"Master Jason," Alfred begins, walking into the dining room with a dish of roasted potatoes. "You may continue your bargaining with Master Bruce after dinner. Wipe that alien sludge off your face and have a seat."

Jason sighs. "Alf, I appreciate the invite, but you know I don't dine with most of the folks at this table. Gets real fuckin' crowded."

"Master Jason, watch your language," Alfred says sternly. "We have a guest. Behave like the young man I raised you to be."

Jason scoffs. "Who, Barbie? She doesn't—" He turns and stops, staring at you.

You smile, suddenly self-conscious. "Hi."

He swallows, eyes wide. "Hi. Hey."

"Aren't you staying for dinner?" you ask, confused. "Barbara said you were."

"I—" He glances at Barbara, then looks at you. "Uh. Well. I don't really..."

"C'mon, Jay, you guys should catch up!" Dick says brightly, already seated.

Jason's mouth sours as he turns to Dick. You pull out the chair next to you and tap the seat.

"You can sit next to me," you say, looking up at Jason.

He immediately turns back to you, lips parted. "Oh. I—y-yeah. Sure. Thanks."

"Master Jason. The goo," Alfred reminds, raising a brow. "And hang up your jacket."

Jason quickly backs up and bumps into the table corner. He winces.

"Right. I'm gonna... yeah. Be right back."

Jason disappears down the hall. Dick grins wolfishly at Barbara.

"You're amazing," he says.

"I know," she says, shrugging.

Alfred serves the last tray of vegetables, then sits. Jason soon returns, gloves and jacket away and goo-free.

"Did you style your hair, Todd?" Damian asks.

"No. Shut it." Jason scoots in his chair, glaring at his brother. But when you pass him the tray of roast, his expression softens. He smiles at you.

"Thanks," he says, and puts three slices on his plate. "Great roast, Alf."

"You haven't tried it," Alfred says, but looks very pleased.

"Don't need to."

"We're very glad you're here, Jason," Bruce says. "All things considered—"

Jason holds up a hand. "Ah-ah. I'm not here for you, old man. Save the speech for another day."

"And who are you here for, Jason?" Dick asks, propping his chin on his hands.

"None of your beeswax, Dick."

Dick shrugs. Damian begins to talk about an art project in school. You pay the appropriate amount of attention until Jason nudges your arm.

"Hey," he says, nodding at your empty glass. "Didja get something to drink?"

"Oh." Heat creeps up your neck. "Um, no. Sorry. I didn't know where to get the drinks."

"'S okay. Alf doesn't put out drinks anymore 'cause everybody drinks something different. You just help yourself to whatever's in the fridge. I'll get it for ya."

"Jason, you don't have to—"

He holds up a hand, smiling. "C'mon, none of that. You're a guest. Orange Fanta, right?"

You blink. "You remembered."

"Uh." His cheeks go pink. "I mean, yeah. No biggie. I'll be back."

Jason stands. Immediately, the others pounce.

"Are you going to the kitchen?" Dick asks.

"No," Jason says.

"Can you get me another Diet Coke?"

"Todd, if you're going to the kitchen, I would like another lemonade, please," Damian says.

"I just said I'm not going to the—"

"Master Jason, will you please bring this into the kitchen?" Alfred asks, holding up an empty tray.

Jason heaves a sigh. You wince.

"Sorry," you whisper.

He shakes his head and winks. "Nah, 's not you."

Obediently, Jason takes the tray and goes to the kitchen. He returns with a Diet Coke, which he tosses at Dick, who catches it with one hand, and a bottle of lemonade, which he throws to Damian who also catches it with one hand and a scowl. Finally, Jason opens the Orange Fanta for you and gently pours it into your glass, then sets the half-full can next to your plate. He sits down.

"Of course they get special treatment," Dick mumbles into his drink.

The table rattles, and Dick winces, squinting at Jason. The table rattles again, and Jason hisses.

"Boys," Bruce says wearily. "Enough."

"Yeah, Jason," Dick says, sticking his nose up. "Y'know it's my birthday soon. I deserve a brother who doesn't kick me."

"Oh, I'll tell ya what you deserve," Jason begins.

"Are we doing laser tag?" Cass pipes up from the end.

"'Course we are! Everybody's gonna be there." Dick looks pointedly at Jason. "Except my own brother. He refused."

You look at Jason, who's got a nasty glower aimed at Dick.

"You're not coming?" you ask.

Jason's expression melts away when he turns to you. "Uh, I mean—"

"No, he's not," Dick says, pulling the saddest pout you've ever seen. "He said he wanted nothing to do with my stupid birthday."

"Those weren't my exact words."

"They were very close," Damian says.

"Shut—"

"Jason, I can't believe you aren't going to Dick's birthday," Barbara says, shaking her head.

Jason's mouth falls open. "Et tu, Barbie?"

"You should come," you say, touching Jason's arm.

He immediately looks at your hand. You slowly remove it, smiling sheepishly.

"Then we can be a team," you say. "We're playing doubles. I'm horrendously bad at laser tag, but I bet we'd win together. I'd watch your six."

"Leaving them in the lurch, Jason?" Barbara tuts. "So unlike you."

Jason heaves a sigh. "For God—okay. Alright, brother mine. You win."

You beam. "So you'll come?"

"'Long as you and I are a team," Jason says, a little shy.

You bump his shoulder with yours. "Of course."

Dick looks at you. "You should join us for dinner every night."

You laugh bashfully. "Thanks, Dick."

Dinner goes on. Bruce excuses himself early, as do Cass and Damian. Soon, it's the four of you plus Alfred cleaning up after dinner. You and Jason are loading the dishwasher when Jason hisses. He pulls out his hand, revealing a thin red cut on his palm.

"Are you okay?" you ask, hovering worriedly.

"Yeah, 'm fine. I'll take the tray—"

"Jason, no," Dick says, herding him away from the dishwasher. "You have to get that wrapped immediately."

"What are you—dude, it's a tiny cut—"

"Yeah, but there was food on there, and you have no idea what can get into the wound and make you sick," Barbara says seriously. "You need to get it cleaned right now."

Jason rolls his eyes. "Fine, whatever. There's a first aid kit in the closet."

"There isn't!" Dick says, shooing Jason toward you. "Alfred hasn't restocked it. You have to go to the Cave. You should both go."

"Yes, great idea," Barbara says, looking at you. "You have medical experience, don't you?"

"I mean, a little, but—"

"More than us!" Dick says, shoving you both towards the hallway.

"I don't think so..."

"You take care of Jaybird here, he needs that hand," Dick says cheerily, opening the Cave entrance. "Go on, go."

"Christ on a bike," Jason mumbles, and heads down the stairs.

You follow, confused and concerned. The entrance slides closed. Jason goes to the medbay, muttering under his breath as he digs through one of the drawers with one hand. You join him, searching the top drawer for the antiseptic spray.

"Is the cut really bad?" you ask, trying to get a better look.

"No. My brother's just an idiot. Nothin' new."

You pull out the spray, some gauze, and a bandaid. Jason nods in thanks and goes to take it.

"I can do it," you say. "I do have medical experience, after all."

He snorts. "Fine by me."

You both sit on the edge of a cot. You turn to Jason and pull his hand into your lap. He inhales sharply. You stop.

"Is this okay?" you ask.

"Y-yeah. Fine. Sorry. I don't get touched a lot." Jason's mouth screws up. "Ugh. That sounded weird."

You laugh. "It's fine, I know what you meant."

He scratches the back of his neck while you clean his hand. He has big hands. Bigger than you remember. They're deeply scarred and calloused. You rub your thumbs over the pads of his fingers without thinking.

"You got soft hands," Jason says quietly.

"Heh. Thanks. The computer life."

He hums. "I didn't know you were working with Babs."

The guilt swims back full force.

"I know. I'm sorry. I should've reached out, Jason. I-I basically ignored you. Not on purpose! I just... I guess I wasn't sure where we stood and I thought maybe you'd be mad I was working for Batman after everything and I was afraid that we wouldn't—"

"Hey, whoa. 'M not mad." Jason finds your gaze. You frown. "I'm serious. I don't mind that you're working for Bruce. I mean, hell, I do too, on occasion. Mostly I just bitch at him."

You giggle. He smiles. You're still holding his hand. You don't really want to let go. Jason doesn't seem to want to pull away either.

"Well, even so, I'm sorry for not reaching out. I did miss you, Jason. And I'm glad you're back."

He clears his throat, ducking his head. "Huh. Well, I missed you too. And y'got nothin' to apologize for. I could've asked about you."

"Well—"

"Uh-uh, no, I'm the king of self-deprication. Y'can't take that from me," Jason says, eyes dancing with mirth.

You sigh dramatically. "Fine, fine. Can we say that we both could've reached out?"

"That's agreeable. And, uh, while we're clearing the air, I'm so terribly sorry 'bout my dumbass brother."

You tilt your head. "What do you mean?"

"Ah, huh. Hm. Well, funny thing. I kinda had a, um, crush on you, before. And Dick has it in his head that I... that I have a chance now. So... yeah."

"Before?" you ask.

You don't know why you're disappointed. It's not like you knew. Except maybe if you had, you wouldn't have missed out. Maybe you wouldn't have lost so much time.

Jason glances at you. "What... why are you sayin' it like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like you wish... that I..." He shakes his head. "Forget it."

"Jason," you say, barely a whisper.

He looks at you. His eyes flick to your lips, just for a millisecond. "Yeah?"

"Can I kiss you?"

A beat. Your heart falls.

"Yeah." Jason nods. "Yeah, kiss me."

You heart soars.

You hold Jason's face, still holding his hand. He gingerly touches your neck with his uninjured hand, strokes behind your ear with his thumb. Every nerve alights. You're kissing Jason Todd. The boy you've loved since you were thirteen.

"They did it! They're kissing!"

Jason growls against your mouth. You know it's not aimed at you, but it makes lightning shoot down your spine. Wow.

"'M gonna kill 'im," Jason mumbles.

You smile and pull back, just an inch. "It's nearly his birthday. At least wait till next week."

"Hm." Jason kisses the corner of your mouth. You like him so much. "Fine. Y'know you can convince me of pretty much anything? Wield that power carefully."

You wrap your arms around his neck. Jason braces you with a hand on the small of your back.

"I'm very flattered, but I think you're confused, Jay." A kiss to his jaw. "It's you who has a hold on me."

[letsstargaze]

Hello sanne! I have a request, if it inspires you: what about reader who's been hurt and has amnesia when they wake up. And Jason is there and reader gets all flustered because pretty boy alert!! Pretty boy is speaking gently to them!! And in actuality Jason and reader are together. I hope that made sense 😭 love your writing so so much!!

this is such a sweet request!

jason todd x gn!reader. tw medical setting, reader is on pain meds and has been in an accident, major major fluff, established relationship.

****

The first thing you notice is that your mouth tastes... not good.

You try to swallow and clear out the taste. All that happens is a useless smack of your tongue. Your throat is too dry for any swallowing to happen.

"...been out for about twelve hours. Yeah, I've been here the whole time."

You're pretty sure that you know that voice. You're drawing a blank on that voice's name, but you swear you know the voice.

"They're awake. Yeah, bye."

It's deep and warm and soft and yes. You definitely know the voice.

Okay. Opening your eyes.

You do so with substantial effort. Your vision is bleary. All you can make out are blobs of gray. You've got a lot of eye boogies in your eyes. You can feel them.

But you're not really sure about where your hands are at this moment in time, so the eye boogies will have to camp out for a little longer.

"Hey." The bed shifts. That warm voice gets closer. "Hey, hey. Y'thirsty?"

A straw taps your lips. You clumsily take it and drink until it gurgles and there's no more water.

"Yeah, I'll bet you're thirsty. Want more?"

You shake your head. A cool, rough hand pets your forehead. Oh, that's nice. That's very nice. The bedside manner in this hospital is impeccable. A little forward, but you don't mind. The voice and his hand are both very polite.

Time to try to actually see some shit. You hone in on your vision, putting every iota of brainpower into processing what your eyes are telling your brain.

A figure. A man. Huzzah!

Oh. Oh, wow. A very beautiful man. A big, hulking, beautiful man.

He's young, boyishly handsome. His eyes are bright. A scar is etched from the top of his right temple to his lip. There's a white streak in his dark hair. Is that a trend now? You can't remember.

"Where 'm I?" you ask.

"You're in the Batcave. How much do you remember, honey?" the gorgeous, beautiful, dreamboat nurse asks.

Well, you remember being in a car, and then being ejected from that car, and then hot, blinding pain, and then... waking up.

"Car accident?" you manage.

Pretty Nurse nods. Is he a nurse? He looks more like a biker, with his leather jacket and empty holsters. He looks like he could pin you down with one arm and—

Whoa. Chill.

"Yeah, kinda. There was an explosion. You hit your head pretty hard." He strokes the back of your head, frowning. "How do you feel?"

You feel like your head has an anvil tied to it. But it's okay, because look at this biker-nurse! Wowza!

He takes your hand (you have hands! Huzzah!) and strokes your knuckles with his thumb, which is fine, actually, because he has really nice eyes. You want to tell him.

"You h've nice eyes," you say.

Pretty Nurse blinks, looking startled. His cheeks go a little pink. "Oh. Um, thanks, baby. Y'sweet."

Baby? Do you really have that much rizz as a medical patient? You can't imagine how irresistible you must be when you haven't been in an explosion.

But then everything shatters when you look down and see a silver band on his hand. What the shit! He's married? Or engaged, at least. Son of a biscuit.

And he's flirting with you? What a pig!

You snatch your hand back, suddenly sour. Pretty Nurse raises his eyebrows.

"What's a'matter?"

"You have a ring," you say, voice dripping in contempt.

"I—" He looks down. "Uh, well, yeah. I do."

Devastating. "If you're taken, you shouldn't be flirting with me, jerk."

He squints. "Wh—oh. Oh. Huh."

Pretty Biker Nurse looks like you've just said something funny. You don't see what's so funny about infidelity. May God strike him down!

He smiles coyly. "D'you know who I am, sweetheart?"

"Yes," you say, glowering. "Y'just a no-good philanderer who should be ashamed of hi'self. Don't care how handsome you are; I won't enter your web of lies!"

He laughs, bright and sweet. Damn him! You need a different nurse. This one is the epitome of temptation.

"Oh, baby. Oh, you're too cute. Can I take your hand?"

"Not if you're gonna flirt more," you say, lifting your chin. "Dirtbag."

"Your moral code is incredible, honey. Good to know I'll never have anything to worry about, though I never doubted you. Can I show you something, though?"

He lifts your hand and on your finger is a gold band. More delicately shaped than his ring, but similar.

"Oh my God," you say, panic growing. "I'm cheating on my husband."

He laughs louder this time. "Your fiancé, actually. Wedding isn't till August. And no, honeylove. You're not cheatin', 'cause I'm right here."

He leans in and kisses your forehead. Your hackles raise for a moment until... wait...

"You're my fiancé?" you ask, eyes huge.

He smiles shyly. "In the flesh. Y'remember my name?"

You feel like it's a J name. "J..."

"Jason," he says gently. "Yeah, wow. They got you on some pretty strong meds, huh? Leslie said you should start to remember more stuff in a day."

Jason. Pretty Biker Nurse Jason. Holy moly. He's engaged to you? About to marry you?

"You are so pretty," you blurt.

That makes Jason more shy. He smiles like he's done something he's not supposed to do. "Not as pretty as you, honey pie."

"No, you're... I mean, wow. Sorry I called you a jerk. How did I get with you? That's crazy. You're fine as hell."

Jason snorts, wide shoulders shaking. His cheeks are red. "Jesus, you're shameless."

Well, yeah. You're still not sure this isn't a dream. You have to let your fiancé know exactly what you think about him.

You prepare to tell him something smooth and romantic. Something about how kissable he looks.

"Y'look like a sexy biker."

Hm. Not exactly what you had in mind. Your brain feels like a blue raspberry slushie.

Jason grins. "Oh, yeah? That why you been starin' at me? Didn't know you had a thing for bikers. You're terrified of going on my motorcycle."

How does he know that? It's true; you like bikers from afar but you're not about to get on a death machine, thanks.

"You can rev my engine," you say, head slumping against the pillow.

"Oh my God," Jason says, clearly delighted. "Don't think I've ever seen this reaction to pain meds."

"Can't believe we're engaged," you say again. "How'd we even meet?"

"Well, I'm a vigilante of sorts, and the first time we met was after I saved you from a mugging. And then we kinda just... kept running into each other. You bought me coffee without realizing who I was. And we, uh, fell in love. As people do."

"You proposed to me in Spain," you say suddenly, the memory rushing back. "You... you wanted to prove you wouldn't put work above us."

Jason nods, lacing your and his fingers together. "Yeah, that's right. Three weeks in Spain." He pulls out his phone and shows you the lockscreen. It's of you two. Jason has sunglasses on. You're smiling. You can't remember ever smiling like that before.

Tears suddenly spring to your eyes, emotion smacking into you like an eighteen-wheeler. Jason leans in, concerned.

"Baby? Hey, what's wrong? Something hurts?" he asks, inspecting your head.

Your mouth quivers. "You... you love me so much."

Jason stops, tilting his head. "I... uh, yeah. 'Course I do. You're the person I love the most in the world."

That makes you cry, tears running down your cheeks. Jason's eyes widen in alarm.

"Sweetheart? What's—hey, it's okay. Why're y'crying, huh?"

He brushes your tears away with his thumbs, cradling your face. You sniffle.

"I'm s-sorry I called you a dirtbag," you blubber. "Y'not a dirtbag. You love me so much."

"Oh-ho, oh, honey. Baby, you've been unconscious for twelve hours. You're under heavy medication. I know you didn't recognize me, it's okay. Trust me, I've been called far worse," Jason says tenderly.

Dear God, you're a beast. What kind of person doesn't recognize their own fiancé?! You cry harder.

"I should've remembered you! I'm a bad fiancé," you wail.

"Aw, sweetheart. No, no, it's okay. C'mere."

Jason scoots you over slightly and pulls you into his arms. You cry into his shoulder, slobbering all over his sexy biker jacket. He rubs circles on your back.

"You're really cute and nice and I'm glad y'marrying me," you say, muffled in his shoulder.

Jason hums, the sound vibrating through you. "I'm really happy to be marrying you, sweetheart. You rock my world."

You sniff. "Really?"

"Mmhm." Jason kisses the side of your neck. "How 'bout you sleep a little more, hm? I bet you're exhausted."

Now that he mentions it, you do feel pretty worn-out. Especially after crying. And almost getting blown up.

"Will you be here when I wake up?"

"Absolutely, honey. I swear."

Jason eases you onto your back. Your eyes are beginning to feel heavy.

"Sleep, beautiful. I'm right here."

[letsstargaze]

Part 5: The Alley

part 4 | series masterlist | ao3 link

jason todd x f!reader

summary: a night out with jason takes a dangerous turn

tags: drinking, derogatory name calling, gun, violence, kissing, biting, p in v sex

rated explicit (mdni) | wc: 4k

a/n: lobbing this into the crowd and ducking for cover

Over the weekend you sometimes think about what it felt like to straddle Jason’s lap as you climbed over him to get back into the booth, the honeyed taste of his apology still thick on your tongue. Memory of it is enough to have you bite your lip in a struggle not to smile. It carries you through some of the rougher moments of the weekend, the less said the better. That Jason had taken the time to make something for you outside of your usual routine of Mondays. How you could almost imagine the heat of his thighs under yours and the twisted knot that produced low in your stomach. First the sting of him shutting you out, then the sweetness of his apology. Jason had slipped into your life and made a habit of getting you so turned around you don’t know which way is up anymore.

Over weeks of friendship Jason has been kind. There’s a warmth to him that peeks through his menacing facade, tempered by a kind of edge. Kind gestures and gentle words are punctuated by moments of pointed distance. Like the early spring showers on an otherwise sunny day, there’s no predicting these moments or understanding why they happen. You can only weather them. But times when Jason’s right in front of you, teasing you about the insanity Duvall’s put you through with his class this time or reminiscing about places and people you’d both half remembered from childhood, those times make it worth it.

Tonight’s not the night for melancholy thoughts — probably too much Gothic literature on the brain — it’s supposed to be a celebration. Your coat’s probably too heavy for the evening but it’s meant to be colder later tonight and you hate the chill. You knock on the door to Lina and Rei’s apartment, aborting the movement to fix your hair as the door swings open and Lina enfolds you in her arms.

“Come! Come! Rei’s made sooo many cocktails you have to try one.” From her giggles you can tell she’s already started sampling them. She ushers you inside, barely leaving you enough time to throw your coat over the coat rack and toe off your shoes before she’s whirling you into the kitchen. “Now I think that Will has bailed on us but Rei think’s there’s still hope. Now which of us do you think is right?”

Rei smiles in greeting and continues to shake the next batch of cocktails. Smiling back you slide onto one of red cushioned stools next to Lina. She’d taken you thrifting one cold weekend in second year and fallen in love with the matching set, which meant the two of you had had to lug them back to the apartment on the subway.

“How could I ever side against you Lina, dear?” You humor her. “Now what are we drinking?”

“I’ve got a martini with turkey fat washed gin—” Rei begins.

“No shit? You actually did it?” Shock at his ability to turn a joke into a tangible thing is probably a disservice to his skills, but it’s hard to feel any other kind of emotion at the moment.

“Figuring out a Turkey cocktail was more of challenge than a pumpkin pie cocktail.” He shrugs, but from the way he ducks his head you can tell that he’s secretly quite proud of his achievement. “Which I did also make by the way. You get the savoury then the sweet one, but go easy on the pumpkin pie cocktail because Danika’s had three and she’s already in the bathroom regretting it.” He slides the martini to you and then starts working on your next drink, liberally adding several shots of whiskey.

“Yeah okay, with that much Fireball in it I think get the picture.” Lina slumps against you, all flush-warmed skin and tobacco perfume, mumbling to herself about what a good pillow you make. The stem of your martini glass is cold between your fingers, and while you’re not sure that you’d order this drink at a bar you can appreciate the effort Rei’s put into it. Outside the cozy scene of the apartment, the world feels awfully far away in this moment. Rei’s sipping at his own cocktail and making faces at Lina between each swallow when Danika stumbles in. Her lipstick’s smeared across the back of her hand but her eyes are bright.

“Bartender!” She calls out. “Keep ‘em coming.” She collapses into the space next to you at the kitchen counter, all loose limbs and expansive gestures. “Omg hi! When did you get here?” She exclaims at a volume just this side of too loud into your ear.

“While you were getting reacquainted with the bathroom. Where’s Will and Jason?” As you ask, Rei presses a glass into Danika’s grabby hands. She makes a face after her first sip wrinkling her nose.

“This doesn’t taste like the other ones.” She pouts. Despite being a grown woman, Danika has always known the power of a pretty pout.

“It’s new, it’s called “I’m cutting you off until you get something that isn’t alcohol into you”.” Rei tells her.

Out of the corner of your eye, Lina hunches in on herself. Concerned, you twist to look at her, spine popping at the stretch. She bites her lacquered lip and suddenly you’re also fighting back giggles over the ridiculous battle of wills taking place over cranberry garnishes and spilled cinnamon.

A knock at the door has you calling out, “I’ll get it!” The alcove of the entryway is just hidden enough that you can burst into giggles, ribs heaving with mirth. Opening the door reveals Jason’s profile. His head turns to meet your gaze and it’s as if all the air has been sucked out of the room. Wind has ruffled his curls and drawn a flush to his cheeks, making his teal eyes even more intense. The collar of his boxy leather jacket has been popped, framing the sharp grace of his jaw and making him appear larger than usual in the doorway. His lips are slightly parted and the slightly hysterical thought about pushing the pad of your thumb into their plush softness runs screaming through your mind. Jason swallows and you are suddenly rudely aware of how dry your own throat has gotten and the half empty glass in your hand.

“Aren’t you goin’ to invite me in?” He asks, breaking the stillness of the moment. Holding up a finger signaling him to wait, you knock your martini back, throat not working quite quickly enough to prevent an errant drop from escaping the corner of your mouth.

“Okay, now you can come in. Shoes off first though.” Before you can turn to lead him further inside, Jason strikes. The rough pad of a thumb swipes away the spilled drink from your cheek, careful enough not to disturb your foundation.

“Let the others know I passed the club on the way in and there’s already a line, yeah?”

Too dumbstruck at the fleeting point of contact, you manage a single nod. Heading towards the susurration of noise that is the kitchen managing not to trip over you suddenly clumsy feet is a major win in your book. You know the alcohol must have already gone to your head because how else could you explain the too real hallucination of Jason lapping the dregs of your drink from the pad of his thumb.

Rei slides a suspiciously orange drink to you and you wrap your hands around, grateful for the cool glass’ counterpoint to the heat of your face. It goes down smoothly and it’s easy to see how Danika could have downed three of them so quickly. The others are discussing something — probably if waiting for Will is worth it — but you just let it all pass over you. Just as you’re licking whipped cream off the rim of your cup and debating if you can handle another, Lina pulls at your shoulder until you follow her into the bathroom.

Danika’s already touching up her lipstick in the mirror, hands surprisingly steady. Her reflection grins at you and you can’t help but feel your mouth smile back. Finally finding what she was looking for in one of the drawers, Lina lets out a cry of victory and spins you around to face her.

“I just knew this lip gloss would match perfectly!” And it does, the rich burgundy a duplicate for the satin of your dress, cowl necked and — for you — daringly short. She rests her hand on the side of your face as she applies it for you with confident strokes, so close you can feel the soft puffs of her breath on your throat. Satisfied with her work, she steps back and nods. “Okay, now pictures!”

Lina has all three of you try pose after pose until she’s satisfied the night has been properly commemorated. You smile until your cheeks hurt and you can feel the slight buzz of your drinks beginning to fade. Before you can turn to leave, to finally get the night started, Danika swoops in. Grabs the sides of your strapless bra and shimmies it up, up, up, until the pendant of your necklace sits in the valley of breasts you didn’t know could look so good.

She winks at you, says “Oh he’s not gonna know what hit him,” and flounces away. Lina snorts at your slack jawed dismay and pushes you out back into the living room where the boys are waiting.

It’s not until the five of you are spilling out into the cold night air, laughing and gasping at the shock do you realize that you’ve left your coat behind. The club is only a few blocks away and Rei promises to bring it to campus on Monday so you brace yourself and run shrieking into the streets.

The club is packed more tightly than your bookshelf with the one wobbly shelf. Bodies twist in and out of your way, hips and elbows knocking into to you and pushing you further and further away from your friends. You start to lose sight of them and begin to panic. Lina’s got your phone and keys in her purse. The dark room and strobe lights aren’t making things any clearer, the entire mass of the room seemingly heaving towards you. A hand reaches out and firmly clasps around your wrist. Attached to that hand is Jason and all the tension in you fades at the sight of him. His bulk does the work of clearing a path for you and you end up staring at the space between his shoulder blades. There’s a scuff mark there, like something had caught on the leather just lightly enough to leave a mark but not enough to puncture it. Jason doesn’t let go of you until you’ve found your friends again, a loose cluster close to the bar.

“Why’s it so crowded?” You yell, barely heard over the pounding bass.

“Must’ve closed the patio for the first time.” Rei yells back, or at least you think he does.

Originally the plan was to stay out for a few hours, to dance until your feet hurt and Lina got drunk enough to start flirting with Rei in Spanish while the bar closed up. After the fifth time someone nearly spills a drink on one of you and the eight time someone nearly stomps on your foot, your outlook on the night decidedly shifts. When someone throws up in the corner and spatters Danika’s shoes with sick, the plan changes. Vinnie’s is definitely not the best pizza in Gotham, probably wouldn’t even crack the top twenty unless it was paying for advertising space, but it’s only a block from the club and blissfully empty.

The fluorescent lights are a little too bright and the backs of the metal chairs pinch but the smell of fresh pizza makes all of that fade into the background. Jason rolls his eyes when you struggle to open your coke bottle, glass all slippery with condensation, but pops the tin cap off for you anyway. He steals the first sip as a fee for bottle service, prompting you to stick out your tongue at him. It’s childish, but you don’t get many chances to feel young lately. You get him back for it later when he’s too occupied with trying to prove Danika wrong on just which Rogue is the most ethically fuckable and the cheese slips right off of his slice. In your opinion it’s Poison Ivy but you don’t bother to venture your thoughts as you’re too preoccupied with stuffing your mouth with Jason’s abandoned cheese.

“—absolutely doesn’t get a pass just ‘cause his wife— Hey!” And before he can launch himself forward to tear the last of it from your hands you stuff the rest of it into your bulging chipmunk cheeks. Danika dissolves into giggles as Jason play acts angry, the softness of his eyes giving lie to any tension. With a final chew and a swallow you grin and salute him with your drink.

It’s cold outside the pizza shop, crisp in the way that whispers of flurries in the night and a white morning blanket that will evaporate with the dawn. You can’t help but to shiver, rubbing your hands over your arms to try and chase away the chill. Something large and soft drops onto your head from above. Squirming out from under it, you realize it’s the same leather jacket you’ve spent the night staring at, still warm with the heat from Jason’s body.

“Aren’t you cold?” You ask, words coming out in a crystallized puff of air.

“Nah, don’t really mind it. You can give it back after I’ve walked you home.”

“Are you sure? It’s not that far from— wait! Lina, wait, my keys!” You call, then start running after them. Lina and Rei have Danika balanced between them, but they pause when they hear you and you manage to fish your things out of Lina’s purse before they continue staggering off into the night.

You’re a little out of breath when you return, breathless apologies on your tongue. He waves them away before letting you take the lead.

“Should only be two blocks or so, less if we cut down a side street.”

It’s not so late that the roads are completely empty, but there’s a thick sense of silence coating them. The street lamps glow, silent watchers in the night, reflecting off puddles and closed storefronts. Gotham is the kind of quiet it almost never is — peaceful. Trying to be mindful of the late hour and Jason’s own commute, you make up your mind to take the shortcut. The hour isn’t that late and the alley isn’t so far from the main thoroughfare, you reason. You reason wrong.

The sudden click is what gets your attention, drags your eyes from the uneven pavement straight to the barrel of the gun. Your heart climbs into your mouth and chokes you. Behind you, vaguely, you’re aware that Jason has frozen in place. The man — is he a man? — stands in the middle of the alley pointing his gun at your chest. He’s wearing a mask, a black mask, is he one of the Black mask’s grunts, can’t be — that’s a baklava — weren’t baklavas a high fashion trend now, no but Gotham just put a new city ordinance about suspicious face coverings, what was it, something to do with suspicious activity and religious dispensation, but that would include baklavas too wouldn’t—

Gesturing with his gun, he rasps “Throw your wallets to the ground or I start putting holes in the pretty one.”

Blood is roaring in your ears and your fingers are numb, even buried in the jacket’s pockets. You try to fist your hands and then gasp like you’ve been struck. The pockets of this jacket that isn’t yours are empty.

“I don’t— I don’t have a wallet on me.” You stutter out. The man lunges towards you and you let out an involuntary scream, left shoulder bumping into Jason as you curl into yourself. The tang of fear is sharp in your mouth.

“BULLSHIT” he roars.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I only took out a few bills to go out and I just spent my last one back at the restaurant—”

“Hey man, I’ve got my wallet right here.” Jason interrupts your babbling, voice drier than bone. His wallet is pinched between his thumb and forefinger, arm extended in front of him. “She’s not lyin’, I had to cover her drinks ‘cause she didn’t have enough.” He’s lying, why is he lying. “Just leave the lady alone, yeah? I’m gonna toss the wallet over there and we can all just go on with our nights.”

The man scoffs. “Fine, the bitch is broke. Her necklace too.”

With shaking hands, you go for the clasp of your necklace. Your fingers are still numb, can’t seem to find the catch even as you can tell the man is getting impatient. You can’t catch your breath, just heaving as you try to suck down air but your fingers are just too fucking numb and you can’t get your necklace undone. The man’s gaze on you is burning, makes you want to strip out of your skin and grow a new one because from the cock of his head you can tell the bastard is enjoying just how scared you are.

Jason brushes past you, tosses his wallet underhand just to the side of the mugger. His eyes slide off you and quick as a snake Jason strikes between breaths. In. Jason’s forced the gun to point at the ground, shocking the man into firing it. Out. Jason slams his forearm into the man’s elbow, bending it backwards with an almighty crack. In. A kick to the back of the knee and the man is down. Out. The gun is in Jason’s hands and then falling to the ground in pieces. In. You scream.

When you come back to yourself, you’re standing in front of the door to your apartment. Jason is cupping your face, brushing the hair out of your eyes.

“—need to know where your keys are, honey. Don’t want to go rooting through your pockets like this, yeah?” His voice is the softest you’ve ever heard it. The kind of voice that should be reserved for lost children and hurt animals but there’s only the two of you in the hallway so that means—

“How did we get here?” You pull back from his touch.

“We walked, well I piggybacked you most of the way.” He says, brows furrowed.

“No, how did we get here. Inside the building that needs a code.”

“Uh you told me, remember?”

“No, I didn’t,” you insist. “I didn’t even tell you which building it was.” You step back. “I just said it was a couple of blocks.” There’s not enough air in this hallway, under his concerned gaze.

“So I just guessed.” He says easily, like he’s not lying his ass off to you too now.

“You guessed the building and the entry code right?” He steps forward, clasps you gently by the shoulders.

“Hey it’s just me okay? I just need you to get out the keys so you can go inside and calm down.”

“Jason, how do you know where I live?” Your heart’s a living thing in its own right and it’s trying to make a hasty escape from your chest. You look up at him like he’s a stranger and he might be. “Did you kill that man?” And the hysteria in you is rising, rising in your voice and in your body, mind a staticky grey mess.

“Did I— no, no I didn’t kill him.” He hisses, eyes darting for witnesses. “I just hurt him ‘cause he was gonna hurt you and nobody gets to hurt one of mine, one of the Hood’s, yeah? I know everybody under my protection and that’s how I knew where you lived.” He ducks down to eye level with you, blue eyes searching yours for a hint, a sign of a reaction. And suddenly you’re so fucking fed up with the entire night, the noise, the revelation.

Hands wrapping around the back of Jason’s neck you surge forward on your tiptoes and mash your mouths together, an angry thing with more teeth and copper than gentleness. His hands freeze then flex against you before coming to rest at your lower back. He takes control of the kiss, turns its edges into something softer, before pulling back.

Eyes dazed and unfocused, he asks “Wha—“

“I can’t be in my body right now.”

You surge forward again only this time he meets you halfway. Jason kisses you with the same hunger that’s hollowing out your belly, the one that’s been growing since the first day you met. You rock back onto your heels and he follows you, nips at your bottom lip and laves over the split you’d opened in it against his teeth. With fumbling hands you manage to get the key into the lock as Jason crowds you against the door. Your head thumps back into the wood as he latches onto your neck. He bites into the tendon of your throat and your knees go out from under you with a moan. The bastard grins into the side of your neck, then hoists you up until your legs are wrapped around his waist and you’re gasping at the feeling of weightlessness.

Somehow he maneuvers the both of you into the apartment proper. Jason kicks the door shut with a bang and you don’t give a shit if it woke all the neighbours up. Not as long as he keeps kissing you like it’s his last night on earth. He heaves you onto the bed, looming over you like a conquering god as you scramble back to make room for him still wrapped up in his jacket. He pulls a condom out of his wallet and smirks down at you, just knowing that you’re both thinking how lucky it was that he can’t actually get robbed. The clink of his belt buckle has you practically drooling, eyes wide and mouth open. You get jolted from the trance you’ve fallen under as he rolls the condom on. Hands scrabble to pull your panties down and your skirt up as he crawls over you, settles himself into the cradle of your hips.

The first thrust of him inside you is almost too much to bear. It’s been a long time since anything thicker than your fingers has been inside you and Jason is much, much bigger. You writhe and moan your agony into the meat of his shoulder. Bite and kiss at any inch of him you can reach. Rake your nails down his back just to feel him shudder and his hips twitch. Jason sets a pace that pushes you up the bed with each thrust. Your punched out breaths turn to high pitched moans as he stretches the neckline of your dress beyond repair and starts mouthing at your breasts. Your head snaps back and you arch your breasts into his face. Grinning where he can’t see you, you clench down on him, delight in how your nipple drops from his mouth as he groans low and long, before he hitches your thighs up higher and starts fucking into you in earnest.

He finds that soft sweet spot in your gut that makes your tummy winch tight with pleasure and starts hitting it with unerring ease. Makes good on the promise of his thick thighs between yours that one day in the cafeteria long ago. Jason has you so fucked out on pleasure that you don’t notice him working a hand between you until it’s already applying pressure to your clit. The static in your head explodes as he alternates gut churning strokes with taps and circles. You swear you can feel him in your stomach when you come, twitching and clenching around him with stars in your eyes, blind to everything but the tender kisses he presses to the line of your jaw.

The bed is cold long before you wake.