#Gotham's newest Crime Lord

[somnoir]

Gotham's newest Crime Lord - Part 1

Prompt: Dan kills the joker and unintentionally becomes a crime lord

Dan didn't mean to become a Crime Lord. It wasn't his fault that the Joker was fragile and easily killable with one punch to the head. He didn't know that the seemingly immortal clown was easily killed once the impact practically snapped his neck. So yes, Dan didn't mean for this shit to happen. Not when all he wanted to do was go to college, make sure Danny and Elle weren't attracting trouble back in Gotham academy.

It wasn't his fault that the crazy bastard thought it was a good idea to nab his siblings and try to use them for ransom. It's not his fault that his first instinct was to introduce his first to that pennywise knock-off. It'd not his fault that this city was haunted by vengeful ghosts that wanted to tear that motherfucker to shreds.

They were supposed to lay low after the mess with their parents and their name changes.

But nooooo!

They had to have an absolute hatred for clowns and now he's somehow made himself a crime lord. Why the fuck were the Joker's goons so fucking stupid?! They either tried to kill Dan for killing their boss or they tried to fall under him and make him their new leader. It was like a fucking cult in his eyes. Seriously, what the absolute fuck was going on with this shitty city?

It's not like he could call Jazz and say "Hi sis! I killed a crazy clown and I'm now the boss of his weird goons. I also might end up on the local vigilante's hitlist."

Yeah, no. He's not doing that.

But this might not be so bad... Not really. Being their boss could be treated as a source of income if he utilized the Joker's shit properly. I mean, he couldn't always rely on the fruitloops money, not when Vlad could turn traitor and use the money against them. He needed to find a way to support his siblings, one way or another.

And Clockwork did say to get a hobby. If not mass genocide then he could resort to carefully planned crime. Yes. This could work. He'll make it fucking work for the sake of his siblings.

Besides, if he was a crime lord—in motherfucking Gotham—he doubts that the GIW will even try to fuck around in a city where a ghost controlled some part of the criminal underworld.

Oh... Oh, he was gonna fucking do this.

(Clockwork watched as his most troublesome child shifts from world ender to crime lord. At least it was an upgrade from mass genocide.)

Nightwing didn't particularly know what to make of this mess. There were rumors of a new crime lord, of a new rogue.

One day, Joker's body was dropped into the harbor and found by the workers, all confused and scared as to why the Clown Prince of crime was dead in the water. It was humiliating in the Joker's standards, to be discarded like trash into the sea rather than have his body displayed for everyone to gawk at. The clown would have adored being glorified but whoever the hell killed him knew this and fucked the guy up bad.

His head snapped and his corpse tossed out like leftovers.

Jason had laughed, outright celebrated and Crime Alley was as festive as it ever was with the Red Hood blasting music through the streets and partying like there was no tomorrow. All of Gotham was celebrating, parading through the streets with pinatas that looked like the Joker. Harley would drop down from whatever roof she was on and swing her bat at the pinata, spilling red candy as everyone cheered and laughed. It was morbidly glorious.

But the festivities didn't erase the fact that someone had killed the Joker and knew what to do to disrespect him in the worst ways possible. It wasn't long until Joker's old lackeys were rallying to someone—a new boss. It wasn't odd for goons without bosses to move on to find different jobs, but for all of Joker's old minions to work for the same person? This was definitely the guy who killed the Joker.

No name, no appearance, nothing. Just quiet activity with organising his new goons to do strange errands. Stuff that didn't point them in the direction of criminal activity.

"You got anything?" Dick murmurs as Tim slouches over the batcomputer, watching as his younger brother sneered at the screen.

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing." He snaps, "All footage of this new rogue is immediately corrupted."

Babs hums, "And it's not like it's altered after it's been taken. The distortion happens live. They either have some tech on them or they're a meta who can avoid cameras." She adds, taking a leisure sip of the tea Alfred kindly offered them. "Whoever this is doesn't leave a trace aside from this shitty footage."

Tim groans, "I officially hate this guy!" He almost tosses his mug out of anger, shaking his head.

"Does Jason have any info on this one?"

And like the fucking menace he was, Jason pops up without another word. "He goes by Wraith." No one was startled, just sparing him a glance before nodding.

"That's it?"

"The goonions adore him." Jason shrugs, "Guy's been quick. Dealing with shit like Black Mask and other trafficking operations. Some of the kids he's saved wear clothes that have this specific symbol on them. It's a good tactic mind you. Tells people to fuck off and don't come anywhere near the kid or else he'll sic whatever bullshit he has in someone."

Dick narrowed his eyes, "Is it effective?"

"Hell yeah! One of the kids got kidnapped just last week. I went to save the poor thing but he walked out of that warehouse while the kidnappers were bleeding and sobbing." Jason once again grins, "Little Tommy threatened me if I try to arrest Wraith."

"So more anti-heri than villain. Good enough, at least." Dick sighed, shaking his head as he narrowed his eyes on the screen. More distorted footage.

"Thanks for the info, little wing."

"Just updatin' you guys. Heard some rumors that Harley's on the hunt for Wraith to thank him."

Great...

It's been a solid two months since the death of the Joker. Batman and the rest of his birds were increasingly wary of the Wraith and his two new associates that went by Phantom and Specter. No footage on the three could ever be recovered, making them all assume this was the work of a meta.

Most of them weren't sure if this guy was a threat or not. Red Hood, on the other hand, had a fairly positive opinion on the guy who's been hanging traffickers by their legs and immediately staking their claim on the kid to keep them safe.

The new crime lord was slowly dismantling the criminal underworld and building it back up to their design.

"FUCKING HELL!" Dick glared at the screen again, "That's Wraith's doing, isn't it? No way did the Riddler blow up that building."

"Wraith's only been dealing with traffickers so far. Why would he do this?" Steph murmurs, staring at the recording of a building that had suddenly went off. Numerous were dead, some barely survived.

"That's the motherfucker's symbol." Dick pointed to the glowing green symbol that looked liked a fire with some obscure letter they couldn't really make out. (Was it a D or a P?)

"Okay... Why would Wraith blow up a building and kill everyone?" Jason immediately asked, seeming to be defensive of the man. "He doesn't just kill people, Dick."

"Even so..." Bruce grunts, clearly displeased with the bloodshed. All that death...

"We're going after him." Bruce announced, "I'm not putting of the Wraith investigation anymore."

Dan stared at the pictures of the bodies, pudding out smoke without a cigarette in sight. His new minions—they preferred the term goons—were clearly apprehensive and continued to observe their new boss's expressions. This explosion had been his first act of pure and utter violence, a massacre of sorts.

He glances at Danny who melted out of the shadows, startling his goons.

"Can't say I'm not upset but I get why you did that shit." He begrudgingly admits, sitting across Dan. Phantom was a reluctant associate to his new organization of crime—ish.

"They weren't just trafficking kids, squirt. Pimping them, killing them and selling their organs, hosting matches and making meta kids fight to the fucking death." Dan clicked his tongue, "No redemption in that, Phantom."

"I get it, alright!" Danny snapped, "But the you've gotten the direct attention of the Bats now. They're gonna come for us, Wraith."

"Boss?" One of the goons—Dan remembers him as Jeremy Nelson. One guy just trying to support himself and his kid, trying to keep his sweet little daughter in school with as much money as he could get. Dan remembers giving the man a raise and a jacket with their family's symbol stitched into it—one for little Marigold.

"I'll deal with it. For now, you guys spread the word on that shit. I don't want anyone thinking I killed a bunch of kids." Dan growled, "My reputation can burn for all care, but like hell am I letting people think I hurt kids."

With Jeremy leading the other goons, he nodded and hurried out of the office to spread a word. The former Joker goons had taken a liking to their new boss, preferring his ways rather than their dead one.

"Jazz won't like this, y'know." Danny sighs, "I'm not gonna tell her. Never. But she'll find out, one way or another."

Dan frowns, "You think I don't know? It's Jazz, Danny."

"Yeah, yeah. I just didn't expect you to be like this. Crime Lord and everything."

Dan snorts, "I was the world ender, brat. This is mild compared to what I've done."

"Yeah, sure."

He shook his head, "You've got your own problems, brat. The Observants are still fussin' about you being king, your majesty."

An identical scowl looks back at Dan, and he's reminded that this kid is him. An alternate version of himself and yet they were brothers now. "I know. You killing the Joker fucked some stuff up. Apparently, the motherfucker was cursed to hell."

"Meaning?"

"He's got a lifetime of people in his shadow. Vengefu souls that want him dead." Danny huffs, "Had to deal with the paperwork cause everyone's wantin' a taste of him. I'm workin' on letting Walker release him so his victims can execute his soul."

"Cruel, little king."

"I'll give you his file. Bastard deserves to have his soul destroyed." Danny viciously grins. And once again, best reminded that this twerp is him. They were one and the same, different as well.

"Alright, alright. Fuck off now. We've still got some bats and birds to deal with." Dan immediately showed him away, noting Danny's eye roll.

"Better prepare a birdcage then."

Masterlist

[weepingwillows-sweethibiscustea]

I’m currently thinking about an AU where the Justice League confuse Danny for Jason.

Like, they know Batman’s second Robin met an unfortunate end, & now his newest partner is the ghost of an upbeat, scrawny, teenage boy.

Excuse them, for thinking the ghost being Batman’s dead son was more believable then Batman somehow having picked up not just another stray, but a dead one. How did he even do that?

Bonus points if Jason is very much so resurrected already, but none of the bats told the justice league because apparently Gotham’s newest crime lord, who’s 6’ whatever & built like a brick shithouse, isn’t obviously the same malnourished little kid that used to say “Robin gives me magic!” & literally died. Who knew?

[coolunspokenforname]

A little bit after Jason is left to fend for himself on the streets, a cat starts to follow him around. At first he tries to make it go away, since he can't afford to take care of it, but then it starts leading him to places to find food and warm alcoves to spend the colder nights. So, he let's it follow him around, occasionally giving a portion of his food when he was able. Since he can't really call the cat 'it' or 'the cat' he names him Mr. Darcy.

Eventually, Jason is adopted, and he tries to get Mr. Darcy to live with him at the manor, but Mr. Darcy doesn't stop hissing at Bruce and trying to run away, so he stays as a stray. However, he does often go up to the roofs to hang out with Robin, who always gives him a little snack and pets. Selina thinks this is absolutely adorable and keeps a close eye on Mr. Darcy when she can.

After Jason dies, Mr. Darcy refuses to leave his grave. Selina has to visit the cemetery every day to make sure the cat doesn't starve himself. It's hard for her, but she knows Jason wouldn't want his cat to be neglected because of him. (And Mr. Darcy was his, just as much as he was Mr. Darcy's)

About six months after the funeral, Selina can't find Mr. Darcy anywhere. She assumes he had passed, too.

A year later she finds Mr. Darcy meowing at her door, biting at her pant legs and trying to drag her along. He leads her to Jason's grave and starts clawing, trying to dig. Picking him up, she takes him to her apartment. He's getting old, after all, and the streets aren't safe for an elderly kitty. It's what Jason would have wanted.

One day, Selina notices that Mr. Darcy has been leaving the apartment often. Obviously, this worries her, since he's already so old, so she follows him. Only, she finds that he's been meeting with Crime Alley's newest crime lord. But, instead of hurting him, like she would have expected, the Red Hood is petting Mr. Darcy and giving him treats.

Selina is the first person in Gotham to know who is under the red hood, all thanks to Mr. Darcy and his, honestly terrifying intelligence.

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

imagine like reader being a detective or something, being on the case to catch Red Hood (while he’s still a crime boss)/ the Arkham Knight, but being in a relationship with Jason, unaware of his nightly business. And then boom, they find out one day and it’s all angsty 🤞🤞 love ur work btw hihi

Betrayal

Hi, nonnie! I thought I had this done earlier, but then I had to keep world building. Stuck with Red Hood on this one. Hurt/No comfort warning. Non-graphic, very minor character death. ~1.8k words

Gotham is cursed. That's what they told you when you transfered to the GCPD. Yeah, you've heard the stories, but they're just messing with you, right? Trying to scare the newest rookie cop.

Except they were telling the truth. A few years later, more cases than you can keep track of, enough masked rouges to fill arkham three times over, and a promotion to detective, you tell the rookies the same thing they told you. Gotham is cursed.

"Alright, Detective, this one is yours." You make a face at the case file the Commissioner drops on your desk.

"Sir, I took care of The Penguin robbery last week, isn't it someone elses turn to deal with the high profile cases?" You gingerly pick up the file, reading over the name Red Hood stamped on the front.

Gordan sighs at you, already turning away to move onto the next poor detective. "We cycled through everyone else after the Black Gate breakout. Anyone who didn't work on it has active cases. That makes this one yours."

You grumble reluctantly, cases like this lead to more press coverage than you want to deal with, but start flipping through the file, mentally noting down the sparse facts and theories about the up and coming crime lord.

That was four months ago. In such a short amount of time, Red Hood has taken over more territory in Gotham than any other crime lord and completely changed the game. No dealing to children, no human trafficking. You hate to acknowledge it, but crime technically has dropped since he took over the majority of gangs in Gotham under an iron fist.

The work is exhausting, he's always one– no, five steps ahead of you and your growing team of detectives and beat cops. You don't think you've even gotten a real glimpse at him that he didn't mean to let you have.

The closest you've gotten to Red Hood was out of uniform, weeks after you got the case, when he was still a new name on the streets.

It was a robbery, some desperate punk in a mask that didn't conceal anything, was dragging a little girl out of the store as a hostage.

"Take me instead, she's just a kid." You had protested, heart sinking at the terror in the little girls face.

"Not a chance." He barked back at you.

"Look, she's scared, she'll only slow you down."

The gunman stares at you, you see his fingers twitch. "Fuck it. Fine. Both of you are coming with me." That's how you ended up in some alley, familiar sirens wailing in the distance and your hand curled protectively with the child's.

"Shit. Man. Shit. The cops weren't supposed to be here. What am I gonna do? I can't go to jail." He's snapping. Rambling and desperate. Your eyes dart for some kind of plan, a way to help the little girl stay safe. But the alley is empty, not even a dumpster to seek shelter behind. "I just gotta get rid of the witnesses. Yeah. The witnesses."

Your eyes dart to him, he's lifting the gun. You don't hesitate to grab the little girl, wrapping your arms around her and turning your back to the man, tucking her to your chest to provide as much cover as you can provide.

A gun fires.

There's a thud.

You look over your shoulder, the girls face still hidden against you. He's not moving, gun unshot and laying next to him on the ground. There's a pool of dark liquid forming around him. You look up.

You manage to see a red glint, the shine of a gun, the eerie glow of a luminescent eyes. Red Hood.

That's all you manage to see before you're swarmed by cops, guiding you and the girl to safety.

It's a memory that plays in your mind sometimes, when you hear testimonies of how Red Hood saves people in crime alley, despite his crime lord status. It's confusing, exhausting even, to try and sort between the good and the bad, the duality of one man. At least you have your loving boyfriend to come home to.

Jason. He makes you feel like Gotham might not be so cursed. It's great, he gives you butterflies. He makes you happy. You cook meals together, and you both work the weird twilight/night shift hours. He holds you like you're precious under your shared comforter. You think you might love him. He whispers sweet nothings into your hair when he thinks you're sleeping. You kiss his palms when his eyes get that far away, haunted look he can’t seem to explain.

He's insisted on cooking dinner tonight as you watch him, a little starry eyed. You can't really blame yourself when he's shirtless and working over your favorite meal.

"Oh, Jason, I need to wash my clothes. Do you need anything done?" You ask, finally remembering that you do actually have a job and responsibilities and you can't stare at your handsome boyfriend all day.

"No, I'm good, baby. Go ahead and do your thing. Dinner's almost done." He answers idly, shooting you a lazy grin as you stand.

You smile back before leaving the kitchen to gather your clothes. As you dump the dirty laundry in the washer, you realize you never refilled the detergent. Mumbling an annoyed curse, you head to the spare bedroom you rarely use. There should be some extra necessities stock piled in there. You know, for the next time a criminal messes with Gothams chain supply.

You're more focused on the delicious smells floating through the apartment as you open the closet door, idly looking around for the detergent. That's why it doesn't really click in your mind what you're looking at. Guns. Armor. Your thoughts freeze to a stop. Are you dating some kind of henchman? A bright red helmet takes up your vision. Nope. You're dating a crime boss.

The helmet is in your hands and you're fumbling your way to the kitchen before you even have your thoughts sorted. Should you call for back up? Shouldn't you try to catch him by surprise? Sure. But, you need answers. You want this to be a misunderstanding. You want Jason to be your partner– not– not what the evidence that's heavy in your hand says he is.

Statistics run through your mind. Stories of Red Hood saving working girls. Stories of him leaving bodies of dealers that sold to kids. Then, memories of your boyfriend. How he leans down to kiss your forehead. How runs his hand up and down your arm while you watch movies together. If there was a sign. If you were too blind and in love to realize.

He turns to look at you when you stalk in. You throw the helmet at him. The helmet you'd recognize anywhere, even if you've never gotten close enough to touch it before. He catches it with the grace of a predator. "The hell is this, Jason?"

"It's a helmet." He says evenly, turning off the stove and placing the helmet down on the counter.

"No, duh, it's a helmet, Jason. Don't patronize me. Is it yours?" You nearly hiss, hands curling in anger and frustration and heart break you're not ready to admit you're feeling.

He studies you, eyes dark and calculating. It makes you bite the inside of you cheek. His eyes never looked at you like that before. "It is."

You laugh out of disbelief, stepping back. "So you've been using me? Is that what all this was? Just a way to get information about the GCPD and what we had on you?"

"What? No." He says your name a little pleading, "it's not like that. Not anymore."

"But it was." You bite out, cursing yourself for the sting of tears in your eyes.

He steps closer, you step back, trying to keep your hands from shaking. He whispers your name, and you think you see hurt flash in his eyes before it disappears. His voice goes steady, even. "It was. But I haven't tried to get anything like that since–"

"Since when, Jason?" You cut off, anger and hurt clear in your voice, in your face. "Was it before we raided the warehouse at the docks? Is my computer bugged? Did you hack my phone?"

He winces. You don't need to be a detective to know he has. "I haven't used them since we started getting serious."

"And when was that, Jason?" You ask, voice breaking at his name. "Because it's been serious this entire time for me."

He doesn't answer at first, gaze leaving you to stare at his helmet. "Since I– I saw you save that kid. Instead of going after that shooter. When I realized you weren't just another one of the corrupted cops. That you care about this city. And the people. I realized I couldn't keep doing that to you."

You go quiet. What can you say to that? "Were you ever going to tell me?" You settle on.

"I don't know." He shrugs helplessly, eyes leaving the helmet to meet your teary gaze. "I didn't know how. I don't– think I wanted you to know. " He stutters over his last sentence, and then says your name, pleading coming back to his tone. "I can't lose you over this."

"You never had me!" Your voice raises, a shout in anger before you can bury it down. You shake your head, wrapping your arms around yourself protectively and lowering your voice. "You never had me if everything this was was built on a lie."

"It's not a lie." He says firmly, snapping to attention and stepping towards you. He gestures between the two of you, says your name like he demands your attention. "This is not a lie."

"It is, Jason! You're only here to gain something from me! From my job!" You push back, throat tight and head spinning. Maybe you shouldn't be yelling at Gothams most dangerous and deadliest crime boss, but your heart is too broken for your head to think straight.

"No, pretty." You think he's pleading. You think his mouth might even be trembling as he speaks, but you can't make it out through the tears in your eyes. "No. It was like that at first. I know. I know that hurts you, but, it's not like that now. It's nowhere near that now."

"I don't care." You choke out.

"You don't mean that." Jason protests, but he doesn't sound certain.

"I don't want to see you anymore." You say the words before you're even sure you want that.

His face drops. "You don't mean that either."

"I do." It tastes like a lie. It sounds like the truth. You're turning and leaving before he can speak again, before you can unpack what you really want, locking yourself in the bathroom.

You fall asleep to the sound of your own tears, curled on the cold tile floor. You wake to silence. His helmet is gone from your counter when you enter the kitchen.

Your favorite dinner is wrapped in plastic when you open the fridge.

It makes the truth of it all worse. Gotham really is cursed.

Part Two

[arjudy224]

Chemical Valley

(The Intern x Red Hood)

After the unsettling reminder of her past, Y/N has been avoiding vigilantes for the last few months. However, Dr. Harris has requested backup in the form of Gotham's newest crime lord. What could go wrong?

The Intern Collection:

Prequel: Death of a family

The Intern: Day one

The Intern: The Laughing Fish

The Intern: Busy Work

The Intern: Outreach Gala

The Intern: Visiting an old friend

The Intern: Chemical Valley

The Intern: Billionaire Boys Club

I'm getting real sick of risking my life for a minimum-wage job. Driving around with Dr. Harris is one thing, but since when did the job description list teaming up with crime lords? I mean it's the Red Hood for Christ's sake. Dr. Harris gives me a protective smile from the driver's seat.

"Don't worry about Red Hood. He knows what he's doing." He starts sensing my apprehension. "Besides, he owes me a favor."

I nod with a nervous smile. Red Hood is the only vigilante that I've never interacted with. He only recently appeared in Gotham. From what I've heard on the streets, he isn't exactly on great terms with Batman.

"All due respect... hasn't he killed people? " I question glancing around the lonely alleyway.

Growing silent, Harris contemplates his response.

"Not recently." He says with what is supposed to be a comforting pat on the shoulder.

Trying to ignore the anxiety creating knots across my gut, I reply with more enthusiasm than I feel.

"Oh well... that's progress."

Harris laughs.

"It's Gotham dear. It's hard to find someone who hasn't committed murder. I wouldn't worry too much about the Hood though. If you can befriend Waylon, a little boy in a helmet is the least of your worries. "

I raise an eyebrow.

"You wanna elaborate?"

He smiles sweetly. I narrow my eyes.

"Don't ask questions that you don't want to know the answers to."

That shuts me up. We sit in silence for a few minutes while I contemplate what he just said. Dr. Harris isn't exactly wrong... Glancing at the time clock on the dashboard, I frown. I guess vigilantes aren't known for being punctual, but at least Nightwing was on time. Considering our history, maybe we were both eager to see each other again. I try to focus on the cool air dusting across my face.

A swift knock causes me to jump. The infamous Red Hood almost cartoonishly waves at me from the outside the window. My nervous heart patters like a hummingbird. Eyeing his bike, I sigh. It was silent... Of course, it was silent. What kind of muffler does he have on that thing?

Harris rolls down the window.

"Good morning. Thank you for meeting us."

Leaning on the car door, Red Hood asks in a deep voice

"What do you have for me Dr.?"

"Routine inspection of Ace chemicals. Normally, I wouldn't worry about having a backup, but with an uptick in Joker sightings... I figured it would be better to be safe than sorry."

Hood nods, then glances in my direction.

"I'll keep an eye out."

"Y/N L/N," I say introducing myself, "But most people call me L/N."

"Weren't you the one who convinced the Riddler to let you go in exchange for inspecting his lair for asbestos?" Hood asks with a tone of pride.

I smile while shaking his hand. Word must get around quick.

"Yeah, that's me. He didn't even ask me any riddles. The poor man was terrified."

Dr. Harris whips his head around.

"Why haven't I heard about this?" He demands.

I flash him a shit-eating grin.

"Don't ask questions you don't want to know the answers to Dr. Maybe Metropolis hasn't made me so soft after all."

Before he can start lecturing me, I step out of the car to face my new bodyguard. Keeping my eyes trained on the ground. I sidestep the hulking mammoth of a man.

"Thank you for dropping me off Dr., but I'm sure "Little" Red and I can take it from here."

From the Driver's seat, Harris watches me with a hint of pride.

"This is not the last time we will be discussing this."

"I look forward to the debrief," I remark as he pulls away.

The ACE chemicals manufacturing plant towers over the surrounding buildings. The smoke stacks excrete a dark sticky aerosol that trickles down from above. Its gothic structure makes it look like something out of a Tim Burton film. Taking a step near the external shutter, I drag my index finger across. My glove smears a damp power off revealing the old white paint. An uncomfortable sensation settles in my chest.

There is no way this amount of air pollution is legal.

After my second round of coughing, Red Hood offers me a disposable face mask. I gratefully take it. The neon green sign serves as a haunting reminder that somehow this has passed inspection. My eyebrows narrow. We passed several kids on the way here. What does that do to someone? No wonder Dr. Harris mentioned childhood asthma. I'm more concerned about the long-term exposure to industrial solvents.

Glancing at Red Hood, I state

"There is no way this is legal."

Red Hood stays quiet for a moment. Adjusting his helmet, he replies

"The law can be anything you want as long as you kill the inspectors who challenge you."

My mouth falls open. A thousand questions flood my mind.

"Somebody must have tried."

Hood tilts his head while glancing between us and the doors.

"Somebody did try."

Tossing me a key card over his shoulder, he continues, "You can visit them in Arkham if you want."

I flounder to catch the key card. It takes a few moments to register his words. Them as in more than one? Or is he concealing their identity? By the time my brain focuses, I stand in the alley alone staring up at a sign for a trading card company.

Isn't that where the Joker.... Oh hell no...

Stumbling through the stained doors, a bubbly man contrasts the bleak external welcome. As he rambles, I analyze the faded posters nailed to the wall. Dr. Harris briefly mentioned the factory's history of producing bioweapons during the Second World War. Hazardous feels like an understatement. I nodd along with the pleasant man, yet something in my gut tells me to keep my eyes and ears open.

Walking past a dust cloud, my lungs contract. Unable to steady myself, I sneak down a back hall to take my inhaler. The rambling man continues down the other hallway completely oblivious to my absence. I tear the disposable mask off my face. Searching my pockets for the familiar medication, my heart drops. Of course, I left it in the car.

I sink into a seated position once the dizziness sets in. Do. Not. Panic. We cannot do that again. No more emergency room trips. A pair of boots emerges from the shadows.

"Are you alright?"

I nodd while focusing on each labored breath.

"Sometimes, I really hate this city." I wheeze clutching my chest.

Red Hood lets out a dry laugh before taking a seat next to me.

"I have something that might help, but you have to trust me."

A small inhaler makes its way into my left hand. Squinting, a small Bat engraving stares up at me. I give him an incredulous glance. There is no fucking way that Batman has a pharmacy.

"It works. I promise."

Reluctantly, I take two puffs. We sit in silence for a few minutes. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. I relish the first full breath of air in days. My lungs expand completely. It is glorious.

"How is your friendship with Killer Croc?"

The immense pain that weighs on my chest lessens slightly.

"I'm sure Waylon wouldn't use the word friend. "

I open my eyes to look at him. Spots litter my vision. The sticky residue has left grime all over his mask. I hesitate.

"Waylon has lost everything... Everyone really. All he really needed was a friend."

Hood stays silent weighing out my words.

"What factory did they make you in?" He questions.

I can almost hear a smile in his voice.

"The same one that kicked you out for defects." I retort staring at the white paint peeling on the far left wall.

Considering the age of this building, I really hope that's not lead paint.

"Touché, Ms. Friendship. Touché"

I give him a friendly shove.

"You know, you aren't as bad as your reputation suggests."

He laughs climbing to his feet.

"I wouldn't go that far. Usually, I'm a dick."

"Better a dick than a sociopath," I say dusting off the black power on my pants.

"Damn Metropolis. Who have you been talking to?"

I shrug.

"It's Gotham. "

After a few moments of friendly silence, he asks

"You ready to find Mr. Optimistic?"

I nodd allowing him to pull me to my feet. Enjoying the comfortable silence, I open the door for him once we make it down the hall. To my surprise, Red Hood slams me against a wall before covering my mouth. Paralyzed in shock, I don't fight him. The Red Bat insignia stares at me. The soft aroma of his cologne catches me off guard. It's nice. Very musky. There's something so... familiar about it. I suddenly feel my face go red. There is no way I am evaluating how good a CRIMINAL smells. Get a grip girl.

Ignoring my mental crisis, Red Hood leads the two of us out the back door. Stumbling out the door behind him, I bend over holding my knees for stability. This is a lot of cardio for a regular inspection.

"What the hell was that about dude?" I hiss in between breaths.

Red Hood doesn't say anything.

"I know you are trying for the strong and silent type, but I think this partnership would benefit from open communication."

Standing up tall, a gunman aims a pistol directly at my temple.

Oh.. That's why.

Tag list: @nosyrobin, @jjsmeowthie, @epicy0n,@gaychaosgremlin, @rory-cakes, @luna-zendra-star

[suppose-i-was-worm]

Iceberg Siren pt 1

**based on a prompt by @purple-goo-writes about Danny getting a job as a club singer for Penguin- I hope y'all like it!**

Oswald Cobblepot watched as his lounge’s newest acquisition crooned on stage, the crowd transfixed by the young man’s stunning voice. The Penguin was beginning to notice that the Iceberg’s profits went up by twenty percent every night this particular new hire was singing, and he had plans to promote the kid. Daniel Nightingale lived up to his name.

He’d stumbled into the young man in an alley, starving and beaten, and offered him a cleaning job. Daniel had taken him up on it, after his sharp blue eyes searched Oswald’s face like he could see his very soul. One of his bartenders had heard the young man singing while he worked a few weeks in, and soon enough, Daniel was the Iceberg’s crowning glory, even if he didn’t know it himself.

Oswald would make sure the young man knew how valuable he was to the Penguin and never left.

Danny gave a short bow to the crowd after his last song, and they all made noises of disappointment as he slipped off the stage through the door in the back. It had been several months since he’d started singing at the Iceberg, and he was thriving. Penguin had started paying him more for less work- Two nights a week he sang, enchanting the denizens of Gotham’s underworld.

It was probably cheating, that he was using some ghostly tricks picked up from Ember, but it’s not like the GIW existed in this universe to track him down.

“Siren! Boss wants you in the VIP lounge before you take off.”

Matt, his security detail, was waiting for him outside his dressing room.

“Sure! Walk me up?”

Danny winked at Matt, who just rolled his eyes.

“Happily married, Siren. Let’s go.”

With a laugh, Danny turned to head up the back steps to the VIP area, swinging his hips a little to make Matt sigh in exasperation.

He wasn’t truly interested in Matt- nor anyone else he’d met in the dimension, but as he began to be fed on a regular basis and filled out more, he found that people thought he was attractive, and he enjoyed the attention. It was far different from being reviled as a nerd or even as the local menace. The attention of people who wanted him felt easier to control even than the attention he received from the ghosts as their king.

The door to the VIP balcony swung open as he approached, and he was waved through. Plastering a sultry smile on his face, he slunk through the tables, winking at patrons as he made his way to his boss.

The Penguin was sitting in a comfortable chair on a raised dais, across the table from a man Danny hadn’t seen in the Iceberg before. The stranger was wearing a domino mask, and had a streak of white through otherwise black hair.

“Thank you for coming, Siren. Please, sit!”

An attendant melted out of the shadows with a third chair, placed beside the bossman. Danny smiled gratefully at the attendant and settled into the chair.

He wasn’t sure what Penguin wanted- sometimes he called Danny up just to show him off in his glittering dress that clung to his skin, and sometimes he called Danny up to read whether a person was trustworthy or not.

“Siren, Mr. Hood here was suggesting a possible business deal- why don’t you hear him out and tell me what you think?”

Ah, reading. Danny could do that.

“I don’t have time for nonsense, Cobblepot.”

The man’s growl raised goosebumps on Danny’s arms, and he had to take a moment to collect himself. Damned if that wasn’t sexy as hell.

“Oh, but Mister Hood, I’d love to hear about your business proposal! What my employer does with his money affects us too, you know- if the business proposal falls through….” Danny batted his eyelashes at the man. “I’m sure you know what happens to the bottom line.”

Red Hood sighed, and then began to explain himself.

Danny didn’t listen to the actual proposal more than he needed to make the appropriate noises. Instead he listened to the tone and cadence of the crime lord’s voice, the way his body moved as he spoke. Everything screamed sincerity, even the small, half-formed core pulsing in the man.

Wait. Hold up. Turn around, go back. Do not pass go, do not collect $200. A core? Here? In someone so clearly still living?

He would have to investigate, but later. His employer was beginning to look to him for a verdict.

“Wow! That sure does sound interesting,” simpering, Danny stood and wrapped an arm around Penguin’s shoulders. “I think you should hear him out, boss- he seems pretty up-and-up to me!”

Penguin smiled sharply up at him and then waved him away.

Danny could feel the stranger’s eyes on him as he left, swaying back to where Matt was waiting at the door.

~~

Look. Danny didn’t intend to get into this situation on his day off, but things just happened to him that didn’t happen to other people. Sam and Tucker would call it the “Fenton Luck”.

Danny didn’t think luck was involved at all.

If luck had been involved, the weird clown wouldn’t have attacked him with a crowbar. If luck had been involved, Danny wouldn’t have responded like he would with a ghost. If. Luck. Had. Been. Involved, the clown would not have flown back into a brick wall and then slumped like a marionette with it’s strings cut.

Stepping forward, Danny leaned down to check his victim’s pulse, but reeled back when he got a good look at the man’s face.

The Joker’s sightless eyes stared back up at him.

Ancients.

“Whatcha got there, sweet thing?”

Luck had nothing to do with anything in Danny’s life, ever. He was cursed somehow, that had to be it.

“A bagel?”

Harley Quinn hopped off the roof and came to investigate Danny’s dead body.

“Sure looks to me like an ex-boyfriend of mine, and not at all bagel shaped. You didn’t even leave a hole in him!”

“I’m…. Sorry?”

Harley grinned up at him, all teeth and a fierce light in her eyes.

“No need, sugar, you did a good thing. What I wonder is why the gas hasn’t triggered?”

Danny laughed nervously- he couldn’t help it, his fear response was laughter!

“Gas?”

“Mhmm! Had his body rigged, the bastard. Joker gas should have spread for six blocks or more when his vitals stopped.”

“Oh. I- you won’t tell the bats, will you?”

“My lips are sealed! I don’t owe Batsy anything!”

With a sigh, Danny shrugged.

“I’m a meta. Joker gas preys on fear, and so do I. The gas must have triggered, but I’m close enough that I filtered it pretty fast.”

Harley put her hands on her hips.

“Batsy doesn’t like metas much.”

“The Bat can suck it.”

She laughed and slung an arm over his shoulder.

“I like you, kid! Let me call my body disposal squad.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Ten minutes later, Poison Ivy and the Red Hood walked into the alley, looking around cautiously. Harley had talked Danny into braiding her hair, and was chatting amiably at Danny.

“-And that’s why Bill owes me a trip to Cabo. I don’t plan to collect, though, he’s just a henchman. Ives! Thanks for coming!”

Red Hood put his hands on his hips.

“I get why you called her, Harley, but why me?”

Harley tilted her head, pulling her hair out of Danny’s hands carelessly.

“You deserve to see him before he disappears, kid. The whole of Gotham deserves that, but we can’t risk it.”

“See who?”

She pointed at the body, and Red Hood went to inspect it. While he did so, Ivy walked up to Danny, peering down on him.

“I know you.”

“Hi, Dr. Isley.”

“I was right! You work for Oswald. Almost didn’t recognize you without your getup. I take it this was your doing?”

“Yes ma’am, although entirely on accident.”

She laughed, and Danny smiled too.

“One we’re all glad for. Thank you.”

There were stomping footsteps, and Red Hood was suddenly in front of them. Harley stood up from the box she’d been sitting on, shielding Danny with her body.

“You did this?”

Danny the angry pulsing of the Hood’s half-formed core. It felt similar to the way his own core had felt when he was forced away from Amity Park. He slid out from between Harley and Ivy and held out his hand.

Hood took it, whether on purpose or unconsciously.

“Hi. Danny Nightingale. I just avenged thousands by accident. Please don’t kill me.”

The pulsing turned from anger to relief, and the Red Hood laughed. It sounded odd through the modulator in the helmet, but Danny smiled along nonetheless.

[babydipper]

“Hey, you!”

At first, Jason doesn’t turn. What are the chances that someone in the Crime Alley is calling out to him? Okay, fair, rather big, but usually it contains more slurs/threats and at least, his name, so he is fairly sure whoever is screaming their lungs out is doing just that.

“Hey, on the staircase, I am talking to you! It will take just a minute, I promise.”

Or maybe they are not. Finally, Jason turns to look down at his newest headache, swinging his feet. He hasn't got any chances to beat the shit out of anyone yet, so he dare says that this might be his one and not only occasion.

The person, a girl, if Jason was to take a guess, is standing under the fire escape, looking directly at him with her arms crossed. She doesn't seem particularly dangerous, but she also doesn't look particularly scared of him and it's Gotham and looks can be deceiving, so Jason stays where he's sitting and waits for the next developments. Maybe she will be his punching bag, after all.

“What's your name?” she shouts to him again. Well, it makes sense now that she doesn't look moved by him. She must be some fucked up college tourist if a backpack and her clothes tell him anything.

“Red Hood,” he decides to humour her because fuck him if that's not more entertaining than waiting for some dickheads to show up. A nice escape from getting rid of scum. Or a prologue to doing so.

He can't see that well from his beam, but she must roll her eyes before going, “Your real name. Don't you happen to be Todd maybe?”

Jason freezes for a millisecond, and then, “No.”

“The fuck you lying about?” she says, then covers her mouth right after, startled by herself, which is amusing. She has a weird accent, something from outside the state. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to. This is the longest week of my life, trust me, it means something, and I just really need to find this Todd guy and the only lead on him was you, apparently. I was told you are good at finding people, so if you are not Todd, please tell me you know something because, frankly, I will lose my mind soon.”

He jumps down in front of her, but she doesn’t even flinch. She’s tall, but not Jason-tall and from up close he can see deep bags under her eyes. “Sorry,” he says, “can’t do, can’t help. There’s probably a thousand guys named Todd in Gotham.”

“More. I checked.”

Jason raises his eyebrows under the mask. She is unbelievable. And slightly delusional. And desperate. A deadly combination in Gotham, truly. “Why are you looking for him anyway?”

“I owe him a favour.”

“You owe a favour to someone you don’t know?”

“Yes,” she doesn’t falter.

“Look, you are not from here, so I will go easy on you. I am Red Hood. I am a crime lord, not an errand boy. I don’t know shit about this Todd of yours, so admit your defeat and get back to whatever hole you’ve crawled from.”

“Sorry, can’t do,” she deadpans, parroting him. The look she gives him tells him she couldn’t even if she wanted to. “Thank you for your help, anyway. I won’t bother you anymore. Have a nice rest of the night.” Just like this, the tourist girl turns and walks away into the alley, unbothered by the darkness.

Jason closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, gathering the facts.

Firstly. The girl is from outside of Gotham and with Jason’s luck, most certainly looking for him, but that’s TBA.

Secondly. She doesn’t seem outwardly hostile or dangerous, but she has shown no signs of fear during the impromptu face-off with him, so there has to be something more to her, some sort of training or experience. She doesn’t seem like an assassin, but who knows these days?

Thirdly. She’s a girl wandering around Crime Alley alone in the dark.

Fourthly. Keep your friends close, but random girls who know your past self closer and all that.

With facts against his better judgment, Jason calls out after the girl, making her stop and turn under a streetlight, “Hey!” She tilts her head, encouraging him to talk. Her eyes reflect light weirdly. “Do you need a place to crash?”

[demonic0angel]

Tfw your resurrected son somehow becomes the boyfriend of a rising crime lord within the city that you’re protecting 🤨

Introducing crime boss Jazlyn Nightingale, the newest power in Gotham who has control over the shadows (click for clarity)

[jasntodds]

Alive | J.T.

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Request: yes, here

Summary: Red Hood shows up at your apartment only to reveal he's your not-so-dead boyfriend

Warnings: Swearing, 18+, smut, some fluff, mentions of death, mentions of canon drug use (he's not actually high in this but it's mentioned)

Words: 3,412

A/n: A huge thank you to @tenpintsof-sundrop for the idea 😭 please go check them out if you haven't already!! This kept turning into angst (why can't I just write fluff and smut ffs) which is why it took forever I'm so sorry to the anon who requested this lol but there's no angst!! If you wanna be tagged in my fics, you can click the link below, send me an ask/comment, or follow my library blog @jasntoddslibrary and turn on notifications if you prefer that!!

masterlist | request info | tag list

Gotham’s city lights are the only thing illuminating parts of your room where your curtains don’t quite close all of the way. The sounds of distant sirens and passing cars echo into your room as you’re finally getting some much-needed sleep. Bruce called you three days ago with the news about Jason. Nothing really seems worth the energy anymore, including sleep but tonight it’s as if your body finally caved under the pressure of grief. But, you’re not asleep long before something wakes you up.

You stir awake to the sound of creaking near the window. Your eyes shoot open as you keep on your side, facing the opposite direction. Your heart starts to thunder and you swear you locked that window. It’s Crime Alley in Gotham City, you always lock your door and window. Jason even got you good locks for your window and your door. Someone can’t possibly be breaking in but that’s the only explanation. 

You reach to the side of the bed, slowly, careful not to make quick and harsh movements so whoever is in your home doesn’t realize you’re awake. The metal of the baseball is cold against the palm of your hand as your fingers curl around the handle. It’s not a knife or a gun, but a metal baseball can kill and incapacitate all the same. All you need is one really good swing and you’re good to go. So, you suck on a deep breath, gripping the handle as hard as you can before you sit up quickly, turning around on your knees to face the intruder.

“Get out of my apartment!” You yell, baseball bat swung over your shoulder with your arms ready to swing the second he comes close enough.

He takes a step forward into the light coming from your window and your heart drops. 

Red Hood.

Why the fuck is Red Hood, Gotham’s newest crime lord, standing in your apartment?

“Don’t freak out.” He says, the voice modulator disguising his voice.

You almost laugh at the request. He’s killing people out there and is ruthless but he doesn’t want you to freak out when he’s standing in your bedroom? That makes perfect sense. And why does it have to be your apartment? There are so many other ones he could have picked but it just had to be yours.

Jason is careful as he takes the helmet off, revealing himself to you. Your eyes grow wide as your jaw starts to fall open. Jason can see your grip on the bat start to loosen as his chest starts to swell. He always questioned your choice of a baseball bat, thinking you'd never wake up with enough time to grab it and defend yourself. He's happy he was clearly very wrong.

“You…you died…?” You question, almost certain you’re dreaming.

Bruce Wayne himself called you and told you Jason had been killed. You knew he was Robin and it was all over Gotham City News. Robin had been killed by the Joker. But, Jason Todd is currently standing in front of you, his chest moving with every breath which means he's alive.

He's desperately trying not to think about dying. That's not why he came here anyway. It wasn't to discuss the gorey details of a deranged clown with a bloody crowbar. It was just to see you and let you know he was alive. That is it. No more reminders of dying, not tonight. Not when he isn't high enough to numb the panic or pain of the thoughts. All he wants to do is see you and exist in a moment with just you and him.

“Didn’t stick.” Jason chuckles softly, holding the helmet on his hip.

There’s something Jason would describe as a chortle escapes your lips. “Didn’t stick?”

Jason shrugs his shoulder easily but there’s still some tension wrapped around his bones. “Yeah.” Jason clears his throat, looking to the floor and then back to you, thinking you probably don't believe him. Who would?

“How though?” You ask and you’re not sure how this is real.

Maybe you think you’re actually hallucinating now. Maybe grief has sucked you into insanity. But he sounds just as you remember and he looks the exact same. Jason dying and coming back as Red Hood, still fighting crime in some way, does sound like a very Jason Todd thing to do.

“Gotham.” Jason scoffs. “It’s a long story.” Jason skimps on the details, partially because he doesn’t really know how it works and also just to keep you out of it. He didn’t really like that you knew he was Robin anyway. Too dangerous.

Jason takes a step forward as you watch him closely. Maybe it’s a dream. But, it’s Gotham City and the weirdest and most unbelievable shit tends to happen here.  Jason being resurrected isn’t actually the most insane thing you’ve heard of happening. It's just one of those things that's hard to believe because losing him hurt so bad you swore you'd never recover. You want to be positive it's him before you let your hopes up even if they're rising like a steady tide. Jason can see the hesitance the way your brows are still creased and the bat still hanging over your shoulder.

“Not convinced?” He asks through a shallow breath, his own hopes falling.

He didn't really think of what he'd do if you didn't believe him.

“In my defense, this is insane.” You state as your grip tightens on the bat. "I mean, resurrection or being zombified, kind of insane."

Jason lets out a sigh as he starts listing things only he would know about you and only things you would know about him. He tells you about your first date which wasn’t anything fancy but was yours. He told you about how he has his half of a photobooth picture you two took on your third date as a bookmark. And he tells you about Alred teaching him how to make chocolate chip cookies his first week at Wayne Manor because Jason couldn’t sleep. It was too quiet in the manor.

“I also told you the bat was a shitty idea because you’d never wake up in time to grab it.” Jason offers a smirk.

“Guess you were wrong.” You point out with a teasing look.

“Yeah,” Jason scoffs. “But you didn’t take a swing so…” Jason shrugs his shoulders, a grin splitting his face.

“Haha.” You scrunch your nose with the sarcastic remark. "I'm not gonna just hit someone with a bat." You shake your head dramatically.

"I broke into your apartment?" Jason lets out a chortle "I mean, don't fucking hit me now but someone breaks in, do something, babe."

"Oh, it must really be you because only Jason Todd would criticize my weapon of choice and then criticize what I do about someone breaking in my own apartment." You quip right back as you place a hand on your hip, the bat now hanging loosely over your shoulder being held with just one hand.

Jason's smirk turns softer, a gentle smile pulling at his lips as he looks to the floor and then back to you. "Yeah, it's me." His shoulders move forward as he sucks in a breath, letting it out slowly as if the very act of breathing too hard might make all of this disappear.

Your face softens and as hard as it may be to believe, it has to be him. Everything he listed is all stuff only the two of you would know and the quick quips, Jason never missed a beat. You don't know how or even why he's alive, but it's him. So, you drop the bat to the side of your bed, quickly getting up from your bed. You don't notice how cold the floor is as you run up to Jason, colliding into him with a force study enough to make him step back just so neither of you wall.

Your arms wrap around his neck as you bury your face into his shoulder. He smells different than before but somehow the same. He smells like gunmetal with a mix of the minty shampoo he always used. But, his arms come and wrap tightly around your middle and it all feels the same. His arms are still as sturdy as always and warm. He still feels like home and you do for him, too.

His chest erupts in warmth like a dormant volcano erupting for the time in decades. Every piece of him starts to be encompassed in warmth and a sense of comfort. It's been the longest three days of his life but that doesn't really matter, not right now. It just feels safe here. Between coming back, the drug, and Crane, it's been busy and hectic and heavy. But, he's standing here with you and all he wants to do is focus on this moment because it's not so heavy or loud anymore. You always let him just exist in a way no one else ever did.

Jason's the one that pulls away first but only until you look back at him. The corner of his mouth perks up before he collides his lips with yours. The kiss nearly sucks the breath out of your lungs as your eyes close and your hands tangle in his hair. Jason's grip tightens around you as if he's afraid you'll fall away from him if he lets go.

You can feel him smile against your mouth and it's something that always sent your stomach swirling. Jason Todd genuinely happy is something irreplaceable. And he is always happy to be anywhere near you.

The kiss starts to grow sloppy and desperate, teeth clacking against each other. The happiness of being reunited starts to collide into relief and desperation to never let go again.

Jason's arms loosen just enough to go to your hips, his fingertips sliding under your shirt and digging into your flesh. He's missed the feeling of your skin against his. It's been three days but dying really has made it seem like it's been years and he doesn't want to waste the time he gets anymore. All he wants to do is be with you and you slide his jacket, then hoodie off of the armor.

"Miss me?" Jason asks against your lips and you can feel the devilish smirk that's splitting his face.

"Always." You mutter before Jason tugs your shirt over your head and tosses it to the floor.

In a heartbeat, Jason has you backing up until your knees hit the edge of your bed. The two of you fall onto the soft mattress, Jason bracing the fall for the both you and his lips never leave yours. He slides his leg onto the bed, slotting his knee between your legs right until his thigh meets your wetting slit.

You almost groan at the contact and Jason feels the tremble of your lips against his. And he fucking smirks again.

"Seems like you missed something else, too, huh?" His voice is low but easy with the teasing remark.

"Shut up." You bite back.

It's something about the way he says it that you almost want to bite him and melt under his touch at the same time. Jason has never been one to just let things flow and meet in the middle, he always had to have some sort of comment about it with the corner of his mouth perking upwards. He just can't help himself and maybe you always found it a little bit endearing, even when he's annoying.

Jason pushes his thigh against your slit again and this time he's successful in getting a quiet moan from the back of your throat. The pressure is hot and thick as your underwear start to stick to your pussy. You grind yourself on his thigh and Jason knows he has you exactly where he wants you, not that you would rather be anywhere else right now.

You help Jason tug the armor off and onto the floor, leaving his chest bare and every toned muscle on display. Your mouth practically waters before you yank him back down to you.

He keeps his leg slotted between yours as you slide your hands over the muscles of his back, feeling every raised piece of skin where his back is tensed. His skin is always warm under your fingers. You can't help but glide your fingertips along the skin before digging your nails in.

Jason arches his back, a snarl leaving his throat before his eyes lock with yours. His pupils are blown, black consuming almost every trace of green. So, you do it again as a smirk tugs at your lips because you know that'll get him going. The look he gives you turns feral and hungry as if he hasn't eaten in weeks.

His thigh is pushed harder against your slit, earning him a whimper before he takes it away entirely. There's a triumphant smile on his lips as he raises his brow.

"I can still play the game better than you, babe." Jason teases before he kisses your cheek and moves down to your neck.

"Up for debate." You quip back as his teeth graze your pulse point.

Your heart jumps and you know he can feel it. A snicker falls from his lip before he nips down and starts sucking a purple mark into your skin. A reminder that you're his.

Jason slides his leg back between yours and as if connected by a magnetic force, you don't miss a beat in grinding yourself back on him. Jason scatters just a few more marks across your chest as your breathing becomes quicker, a warm and static pit growing in the pit of your stomach.

"Could just leave now." Jason huffs as he comes back to your lips, sliding a hand between your bodies.

"Don't you dare." Your threat is weak and almost pitiful.

Jason tugs the elastic of your underwear up, exposing your pussy to some of the cool air in the room. You wiggle against him, desperate to feel more than just his thigh. But, then he snaps the elastic back, making you jerk forward and let out a displeased whimper.

"Jay." You scold, a hollowed glare on your face as his face fills with amusement. "Come on." You whine, pushing yourself against his thigh as your hands trail from his back and to the zipper of his pants.

"Since you asked nicely." Jason offers you a toothy grin before he sits up.

Jason reaches for a condom from your nightstand before tugging his pants down and sliding it on. His hands come to your thighs, pulling you to the edge where he can position himself right up to your leaking slit. He nearly licks his lips as he slides a finger through your folds.

"All for me?" Jason asks with a confidence that makes you want to burn from the inside out.

You almost tease him back but you know if you do, he might just plop down next to you and get himself off.

"I missed you." You stick out your bottom lip, offering him a pout.

A rumble comes through his chest as he moves his finger to your clit. You lose all bite and snark from your words as the rest of the room melts away. It's been the longest three days of his life and he's missed you, too.

It's more than this that he misses. You always had a way of making any place feel like home. You always got him to feel comfortable in his own skin even when his own mind was running away with damaged versions of himself. And he's missed the way you go back and forth with him. A lot of people find him obnoxious and sure, you do, too sometimes but you still go back and forth. He's missed the way you always smile at him, with something like warm and kind. It's a relief being alive again, but it's also a relief getting to see you again.

"I missed, you, too." Jason finally says and he pulls his finger away.

Jason grabs his throbbing length in his fist, pumping himself a few times before he lines himself up with your pussy. He pushes forward, slow and steady as he rests a hand beside your head, holding his weight up. You turn your head, offering his forearm a kiss and the feral look in his eyes softens.

As he bottoms out, Jason places his other hand on the other side of your head, bending down to offer a soft kiss to your lips. His chest is heaving, moving rapidly but his lips are gentle against yours.

You slide your hands into his hair and instead of tugging, you wrap your fingers around the messy strands gently, as if happy to have him near you. Jason pulls out and then pushes back in, keeping up a steady rhythm as the two of you seem to savor the moment with each other.

He showed up as Red Hood. In the back of your head, you know he'll probably leave after this. He's not injured and he didn't seem upset. It's not really late which means he probably has something to do after this. Maybe that raises a lump in your throat for a split second because he's Red Hood.

It's not that Jason Todd magically came back from the dead and he's here again. It's that Jason Todd was murdered as Robin and then came back from the dead to be Red Hood, pick up being a vigilante just a more brutal and ruthless version of one. Being a vigilante is dangerous, as was proven just this week but Jaon comes back to go right back in the game. That part is scary.

Your heart skips as you kiss him back and you'll always be worried as he goes out there. Knowing it'll happen again. But, there is a part of you that admires him for it. He gets murdered and instead of quitting, he comes back to fight harder. Maybe that's completely insane but it is admirable. And you're proud of him for it. Worried, sure, but proud of him. So, you savor the way his lips are chapped against yours and the way his thrusts start to become a little quicker and desperate.

"Missed you." Jason mutters against your lips, his voice raspy and staggered.

"I missed you, too." Your voice is caught between a whimper and a whine.

Jason slides his hand between the two of you, finding your clit. His finger is gentle against the bud as your eyes roll back. He quickens his movements, matching the speed of his thrusts. A pit grows deeper in his own stomach as he nips your lip between his teeth.

He gets a low moan from you and he nearly finishes right then and there, his hips almost stalling. But, he recovers quickly, moving his finger in the way that always got you to unravel.

Your hands move to his back, nails digging in as the pressure feeling grows, echoing into your legs and down to your feet. He's pistoning out of you, the sound of skin on skin mixing with your moans and his groans fill the room. You tug him closer to you as you wrap your legs around his waist.

"Jay." You manage to get out as your throat feels like it's closing.

The room spins and Jason is relentless, knowing you're close. You can feel yourself pulsing around his length and you think your head might explode while your heart shoots out of your chest.

"Gonna cum over my cock for me, princess?" Jason drawls, his breath hot against your lips before he moves back to your neck.

"Uh-huh." You sputter out feeling the stars start in the back of your head.

His name falls from your lips loudly and sharply as everything around you explodes into static and stars. Your toes curl as everything starts to shake and convulse against Jason's length. The squeezing of his length sends him falling right off the edge with you, biting down on your neck as the orgasm rips through his body.

Jason works you both through your highs, slowly sitting up but keeping himself inside of you once your legs fall from his waist. He gives you this smile that's a contrast between cheeky and gentle. He bends down and presses a kiss to your forehead, earning a tired but loving smile from you.

"Thanks for stopping by, Jay." Your voice is hoarse but soft.

"Can make it a habit." Jason's grin turns into a smirk, but there's a softness in his eyes.

"Uh-huh, okay, Jay." You roll your eyes, kissing him back.

masterlist | request info | tag list

Tag list: @fairyofshampoo // @jasontoddsmentaldisorders // @purplerose291 // @lovelessamai  // @makaelaseresin // @lenidaslenchen // @ghostkingblake // @dgraysonss // @im-done-with-this-im-out // @velvetskies // @vivian-555 // @kebonita // @deyja-the-duck // @jasontoddslover // @captainmarvels-blog // @totallynotkaibiased // @scarlovesyou // @whydoyoucare866 // @littlemeowmeow1000 // @septixtrash // @kplatzman

[ghost-bxrd]

Do you think if Owl Song Jason was still found by Talia after digging out of his grave, that he would teach Damian the calls and responses he had with Talon!Dick?

He was catatonic for a while before he got dunked in the pit, and maybe he’s reminded of Tim and trying to teach him some of the calls when he first sees Damian. It’s muscle memory that leads him to try and trill at a figure that reminds him of his baby brother.

And so maybe, when Damian travels to Gotham later, ahead of Jason, he hears Dick and Tim and automatically responds as he would to Akhi.

It would totally catch the Batfam off guard if their newest brother already knew their bird calls and responses. Especially if they still thought Jason was dead and didn’t realize he was the one who taught him.

They think that some other Talon escaped the Court and is now in the league.

Definitely! If Talia allowed Jason and Dami to meet, then Jason would definitely teach him some of the calls. At first (while being catatonic) it’s “instinct” to teach Dami. He’d basically be Jason’s own owlet.

Also! Each call is unique! Dick, Jason and Bruce all have their own “ID” so to speak. (Tim also gets taught his very own bird call later on. But… most likely by Bruce.) A sequence of chirps and trills only they ever make that allows others of the family to identify them immediately. And Dick specifically has another short “melody” he only ever uses to call for his owlet.

So yes, it would totally make sense for them to assume the League got their hands on a Talon, and that it helped raise Damian similarly to how Dick raised Jason with the way makes the sounds almost perfectly.

It raises a whole other can of worms tho when Damian finally catches sight of Red Hood during patrol and haltingly chirrups at him the way Jason always used to do when calling for Dick.

And then Red Hood actually stops, and responds to Dami with the same series of soft hoots and trills Dick used when returning his owlet’s call.

And nobody could have stopped Damian from lunging straight at the crime lord right then and just—- clinging to him. Bruce actually chokes a little when Red Hood curls around Robin protectively the way Dick always did with Jason.

It definitely causes Dick to feel that raw grief and despair over Jason’s death all over again. 😔🦉

[somnoir]

Masterpost [1]

Multi-Parts:

Bats and Phantoms

Summary:

The Fenton/Masters Siblings and members of the Bat Family meet. One by one, they end up together while the rest of the family is oblivious that their partners are related to the others.

Ships: Danny/Jason, Dan/Dick, Cass/Jazz, Dani(Elle)/Damian

Tumblr Parts:

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

My Father's Secretary

Summary:

Danny Fenton gets a job as Bruce Wayne's secretary. After being gifted a coffee maker, he might actually go to the ends of the earth for this clumsy man.

Ships: Danny/Jason (Dead on Main)

Tumblr Posts:

Part 1 | Part 2

Gotham's newest Crime Lord

Summary:

Dan kills the Joker and proceeds to become a crime lord. Shenanigans ensure between the Bats and the three ghosts in Gotham trying to screw with the criminal underworld

Ships: Dan/Dick, Danny/Jason

Tumblr Posts:

Part 1

One-shots:

Demon Twins and Death

Summary:

In which the twins meet after one kills the other.

A Family of Rogues

Summary:

The Fentons/Masters move to Gotham. Everyone, except the Fentons, think they're future Rogues.

Ghost KingConsort?

Summary:

Danny is a petty and dead twin brother that decides to give his brother and father a heart attack by implying Danny and Phantom were married.

How to pull a Batman by J. Constantine

Summary:

John Constantine acquires six children from an ancient being that also happens to be one of his exes. He's gonna fight god and batman.

[bluerosefox]

Roting Jasmine Flowers and Dead Robins

[Anger management Crime Lord! Jason and a Dark/dark grey Jazz] [warning, murder plots, mentioned character deaths, and other things]

We all know what happened to Danny when he lost everything.

But what if this time it's Jazz.

Jazz who lost everything at the hands of the GIW when she was on a college tour while she was in Gotham, suffering and grieving from the news her parents (who finally started to choose both Danny and her over their projects and are in the know of Danny's halfa status), Sam and Tucker, Dani (who was finally family) and her baby brother, the boy she basically raised had died.

The GIW wants their hands on Fenton Tech but seeing how Jazz is the sole Fenton alive and everything gets put under her name they decide to pull some strings in Gotham, using her breakdown in front of the Dean of the college she had been visiting when the news came to her, to get her sent to Arkham for her 'breakdown'

Once unlawfully placed in Arkham the GIW visit and try blackmail her into signing over rights to her parents inventions and tech and it would be a shame that her family and friends death effected her to the point she'll never be able to leave Arkham because she lost her mind. Basically this alarms Jazz and with some more words she gets the hints that her family and Danny's friends death wasn't an accident.

And the GIW was the reason why.

In anger Jazz goes to attack but is held back my guards and the GIW use this to get Jazz signed as 'insane' and 'unstable' and with some bribing and blackmail gets her tossed completely into Arkham.

....While in Arkham, her rage builds and bubbles.

She wants them dead. All of them. She wants every single one of them, all the GIW, to die by her hands.

But first she needs to prepare. She needs to plan. She can't go in a blind rage.

No.

She was going to make them pay for everything.

She'll make them regret taking everything from her. And tossing her in Arkham was such a foolish thing to do. There are many she can learn from here, even if they don't teach her anything she has been good at observing.

....

A few months later, almost a year, rumors of the newest Crime Alley Crime Lord being sent to Arkham was the fastest rumor being spread in the place.

And teal eyes watched, curiously and gleaming with questions from her cell as the guards dragged a young man around her age to his own cell.

Teal meets blue and for a second both their eyes flashed green.

And for a moment Jazz felt the longing familiar feel of a fellow limenal present.

And Jason feels not alone anymore.

[igotanidea]

Backyard : Jason Todd x stripper!reader

The plan was simple.

Get inside the strip club, gather some intel on the newest and yet already one of the most influential crime lord in Gotham and get the f out.

The last part got a bit more complicated, when Jason figured out that on this particular day, in this particular club a bachelor’s party was taking place.

Shit was not enough of a word to describe the situation he found himself in.

Should have gone dressed in his Red Hood gear instead of civilian mode.

Should have never let Dick accompany him.

Two hot guys in the club full of horny men and girl strippers trying to lead a mission.

One dying inside, the other going with the flow.

What could possibly go wrong, right?

Well while Dick was having the time of his life, Jason actually tried to focus on the task and uncovering the identity of the guy who was recently raging terror on Gotham. Tried being the key word here. Instead of pursuing the wild game he found himself being a prey rather than a hunter. A bunch of unknown girls tried to grope him, seduce him, damn, even give him a lap dance, all that making Jason’s hair stand on his head as he struggled to reach the back door and break free.

What was a torture to him, seemed to be a lot of fun to his adopted brother though.

And what was even worse, was the fact that Dick, with his charming smile and  ladies-swooning attitude, would probably end up knowing more than him and it made Jason grit his teeth and clench his fists.

“You look like you need  a smoke.”

“What I need is five minute alone”

“Well I’m sorry to break it to you pea brain, but this-” the girl, who judged by the outfit was another stripper, waved her hand around the backyard of the club “-is as close to alone as you can get here.”

Right.

As if the couple making out against a wall, going way to close to public sex, a homeless man sleeping next to the dumpster and a few shabby wild cats, tearing with their teeth something that was definitely not suitable for eating, even by animals, could be described with that word.

Jason sighed half in frustration, half in relief.

“Fuck.”

“Mhm. Yeah, close enough.” the girl agreed as her eyes landed on the man who was now drilling the woman against the wall, apparently causing her enough pleasure to let out a breathless moans.

“You’re enjoying exhibitionism?” Jason raised an eyebrow at girl’s unamused gaze.

“I’m learning new techniques.” She spit out.

“What?”

“Don’t make me say it again, pea brain.”

“Hey!”

“What? If you believed it, you truly deserve the nickname. I’m a stripper not a prostitute.”

“Is she one?” Jason pointed towards the other woman and reached to his pocket in search of a lighter and cigarettes “Fuck!’

“Nah, she’s just faking for the hell of it. Touch starved one, if you ask my opinion. Would settle for what she can get at a club like this. ”

“Do you have a fag?” Jason couldn’t care less about the answer, more focused on getting his own high and calming nerves, that was something he needed at the moment.

“I’m not sharing with a stranger.” She chuckled “seems way too intimate to me.”

“So what, you only give the guy a pipe on a third date?”

“No one got that far.”

“So you’re a stripper with a high standards?” Jason smirked

“Well. As the movies show, there are only three reason of why a girl is a stripper.”

“Don’t tell me you are a sucker for Pretty woman or another bullshit like this.”

“Nah. I’m just a working girl who has to raise a three year old illegitimate child and has no real qualifications for other job.” She send him an innocent feigned smile and tossed a pack of cigarettes his way.

“Three year old kid huh?” he caught it mid-air and lighted one up immediately exhaling deeply, when the familiar scent and flavour of nicotine filled his lungs “How old are you?”

“Rude.” She leaned on the railing “And you only proving my point.”

“Which is?”

“Pea brain.”

“Made you believe I believed that bullshit story, didn’t I?” another  cloud of smoke flew into the air, quickly joined by the other once the girl started to enjoy her own cigarette.

“Congratulations. A guy from a good house just tricked a stripper in the club. Great job, buddy.”

“What makes you think I am a guy from a good house? Maybe I’m a pervert who –“ he stopped for  a second as the sound of woman and man coming chimed into the sentence “maybe I’m a guy like this?”

The unnamed girl only smiled and shook her head causing her hair to flow around her face.

“If you were a guy like that you would just stay inside letting Candy or Chastity give you a lap dance.”

“Are those real names?”

“Pea brain.”

“Right. Sorry.” Jason chuckled involuntarily, much to his own disbelief. “What’s yours then?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Pretty much why I asked.”

“Pretty much why you run away from the inside and found yourself here.”

“How do you even get clients? You’re insufferable.”

“And I got big mouth. Comes in handy sometimes.”

Before he could stop himself he chuckled again.

Jason Peter Todd, Red Hood, adopted son of Bruce Wayne was smoking outside the strip club, with a working girl, having more fun than he ever had in his entire life.

“It’s not comedy central, stop laughing.”

“You could be a stand upper for sure.”

“Well – if you think about it, I am kind of a stand upper…”

This time Jason fully laughed and the girl couldn’t help a tiny smile on her own face.

“Jerk.” She threw his direction biting on the inside of her cheek, focusing on the cigarette rather than on the guy next to her.

“Bitch.” Jason’s reaction was immediate and completely instinctive.

Any other girl would probably take that as an offence but she was familiar with the fandom and popculture classic.

“What demon are you after, Winchester?”

“Too many of my own to go looking for more.” He sighed

“Yeah tell me about it.” She did the same and for a moment they just stood in undisturbed silence. Even the cats seemed to sense something was going on and went completely quiet.

“What’s your name?” Jason finally asked “for real, not the stripper one and not the fake one you’re probably thinking about giving me.”

“You first.”

“Oh no. I’m a gentleman. Ladies comes first.”

“Idiot.”

“Moose.”

“Stop it!” she laughed at another TV series reference

“Tell me your name.”

“Yy/n” she said finally “Happy now?”

“Rapturous.”

“Splendid. You owe me  a cigarette, now you know what girl to give it back to.”

“Sounds like you’re asking me on a second date.”

Before she got a chance to come up with some quick respond, another working girl came out the club clearly searching for y/n, giving her just one warning look before her eyes travelled to Jason and then back to y/n.

“Fine!” Y/N rolled her eyes in frustration “god damn it, there’s something like a break for fuck’s sake! What the hell is happening now? I swear one day I will burn this hell hole -” the rest of the sentence died behind the door along with the walking away girl.

Jason was finally left alone.

Truly alone.

But it felt oddly dissatisfying to smoke by himself in the dingy backyard, that suddenly became grey and empty.

Y/N.

A girl who seemed to have all the answers.

Infuriating and keeping a man on his toes since the first minute from the meeting.

And who called him pea brain.

Jason smirked to himself, while still smoking the borrowed cigarette in the empty backyard of the strip club.

Letting himself forget the mission for a moment.

don't worry people we'll get "there" ...

[harpersdragons]

Theft in the Family...By Jason Todd, CHapter 5!

Finally finals are over and my self imposed writing ban is lifted, so enjoy the longer than usual chapter!

I'm not even a little sorry about the cliff hanger

Jason knows they aren’t safe where they are, he should probably move safehouses every day.

But—

But Damian slept most of the next day, only waking up briefly to eat and let Jason check his head wound. It made sense he would be tired, yesterday was stressful and he’s injured. Jason doesn’t want to wake him up just to take another convoluted route to another safehouse.

Hell, he doesn’t even have that many safehouses to burn!

He can’t keep using Bruce’s, someone will catch on, and Jason doesn’t believe for a second he could actually outsmart Bruce’s system, or Barbara when Bruce inevitably gets her to check it.

There’s not a lot of food, since Bruce only keeps these safehouses stocked with emergency rations, there’s no perishables and barely any dishes.

He’ll probably need to make a grocery run soon, but he really doesn’t want to wake the kid. Besides, it’ll have hit the news by now that Bruce’s newest son is missing, and leaving will just draw attention to them. He can’t go out as Phoenix, Damian can’t go out as himself.

Seems like there’s only one solution.

_________________________________________________

Bruce nearly collapses onto the couch in the middle of Phoenix’s apartment, the photo of his son and Talia clutched in his hand.

The apartment had been vacated by the time they got there, with no clues as to where they had gone next.

Damian’s probably 3 or 4 in the picture, grinning wildly at his mother.

He can’t lose another son.

He’s only known Damian for a few weeks, but he can’t lose him.

“C’mon, B, we gotta get out of here.” Dick pulls him off the couch and leads him towards the door. “We’ll get Dames back, but that won’t happen if you just sit here.”

He lets Dick lead him out, TIm following shortly after.

When they all pile into one of Bruce’s cars, Tim speaks up. “So…I may have planted a few bugs.”

“Tim—”

“Hear me out. We didn’t take anything, we left something. Ergo, it’s not illegal. I connected them to Babs’ system.”

“That’s not how the law works.” Dick facepalms.

"We're literally vigilantes! We break the law all the time, is this really the hill you want to die on?"

Bruce lets the boys’ bickering fade into the background.

He doesn’t remember the drive home.

He does remember the pounding his chest.

He remembers the spike of panic in his chest

What if they don’t find Damian?

Or worse, what if they do, but he chooses to stay with Phoenix?

Dick had mentioned he asked to go with the crime lord.

He can’t lose another son

He can’t be too late

Alfred makes them all go up to bed as soon as they get home (they may have been out all night searching Gotham), despite their protests.

A few hours later, after his short nap, Bruce makes his way down to the cave.

He pulls Tim’s mask footage, replaying the interaction between him and Phoenix without audio. He can still tell what’s going on pretty easily. As soon as Tim lands on the scene, Phoenix shifts to put his body between Tim and Damian.

At some point, when Bruce can only assume Tim is demanding the crime lord hand Damian over, Phoenix protectively tucks Damian further into his cape.

His youngest son looks sluggish almost, barely moving through the whole interaction. Dick had mentioned that, but seeing it was another story. It’s entirely different from how he’s been acting, even when Damian was exhausted, he never showed it.

Bruce flips through the footage over and over again, frame by frame.

He analyzes Phoenix’s posture, the way he effortlessly cradles Damian.

Eventually, he turns on the audio and lets it play through at his normal speed.

All seemed normal, until—

Until he could just barely pick up Damian’s sleepy voice.

“Incoming, Akhi.” Damian’s words are slurred, and his head barely shifts, but his eyes are trained in one direction.

Bruce stills, replaying the moment in hopes he’ll hear something different.

It’s not different, he didn’t hear wrong.

Akhi.

Not only does Damian know his kidnapper, he apparently asked to be taken (according to Phoenix, anyway, Bruce isn’t entirely sure how much he trusts that), he’s close to his kidnapper.

Close enough to call him brother.

Bruce has already had his suspicions, but this just confirms it.

The league has his son.

Again.

And if Damian is close enough to Phoenix to call him brother, Bruce may not get him back.

He can’t lose another son.

_________________________________________________

Jason waits until it’s well after dark to enact his plan.

The Bats will surely be on patrol, scouring the city for Damian, but as long as he doesn’t wear his gear, they shouldn’t look twice at him.

He just needs to run into Crime Alley and grab his and Damian’s old League gear (don’t ask him why he has it, Talia shoved a bag into his hands and said not to ask questions).

It should be simple, but if he’s not in gear he can’t grapple across the city—even if he did, it would take hours—so, he needs a car.

And he knows just how to get one.

_________________________________________________

Dick is perfectly fine.

No really, he is.

He’s used to his brothers going missing.

He’s used to hostage situations, kidnappings, attempted murders.

All part of the job.

Hell, that’s part of life as a high profile celebrity.

So Dick is 100% fine. He can deal.

He’s definitely not driving himself insane looking for his baby brother, who is currently being held captive by a crime lord and possible league assassin.

They’ve been working in shifts to find him, starting after Alfred forced them to take a nap. Currently it’s Tim, Steph, and Cass’ turn to scour the city. He and Bruce took the late afternoon shift, right after they woke up and ate enough to satisfy Alfred.

Bruce is manning the comms, technically still “resting”, and Dick is definitely not pacing the cave.

He’s pacing the manor, instead.

A few backflips later, and Alfred banned him from the manor until he’s burned off his restless energy.

Although, he’s still banned from patrolling until the current vigilantes come back.

Bruce is sitting just where Dick left him, glaring at the Batcomputer.

Dick comes to a stop in the middle of the cave, staring at the wall.

“Do you think, maybe we should call the Justice League in for this?” He calls, not bothering to look at Bruce.

“Hn.” Bruce grunts in response, as articulate as ever.

“I mean, after what happened the last time one of us was taken by a crime lord…”

“Dick.”

“I’m just saying! We need to find him, B, and the Justice League, or at least Superman, would probably be helpful!”

“Barbara called the Birds of Prey. That’s enough people searching for him.”

Dick whirls around, stalking towards the computer. “Do you even care? Because it doesn’t seem like you do. I mean, I know he was only here for a couple of weeks, but c’mon Bruce! He’s your son! You’ve barely spent time with him, and now you don’t even seem to care that he was taken!”

“Of course I care, Dick, he’s my son. I’m doing everything I can to find him.”

“Not everything.” Dick scoffs—though he grabs a cookie from the tray on the desk— and spins on his heel again, heading towards the training area. He has some acrobatic equipment there, and flying should burn off this energy.

Bruce must have looked up to see where he was going, or maybe to continue their argument, because he calls out, “Safety net, Dick.”

“Fuck off.”

“Richard.”

Dick waves a hand over his shoulder, disappearing into the sectioned off training area.

He makes sure his safety net is set up properly (not because Bruce told him to, but he’s not an idiot) before climbing to the platform.

He leaps, grabbing the trapeze bar, then twisting and hooking his legs. He lets himself dangle upside down for several moments, the bar swinging back and forth, before he rights himself and builds momentum to jump to the next bar.

He loses track of time going through a simple routine.

He leaps and flips through the air, hangs upside down, does handstands on the bar.

And still, the buzzing, restless energy is there.

Usually trapeze settles him, the freefall and head rush from being upside calms something in him, in a way not much else can.

But this time it didn’t work.

He makes his way back over to the platform, landing in a salute on instinct. He cocks his head in thought, learning a new skill could focus him enough to burn off the extra energy.

He’s been wanting to learn aerial silks, and they have the supplies to do it.

Bruce had bought all kinds of equipment when Dick moved in, he wasn’t quite sure what Dick would want to practice on when he was younger.

He’s seen aerial silk performances, watched videos on how to do beginner moves. He’s fairly confident he can figure this out.

With a plan in mind, he sets about taking down the trapezes, unclipping them and letting them fall to the safety net below. Once that’s done, he unclips the net itself, as it’s not necessary for the silks. He can practice pretty low to the ground, besides, they have thick mats on the ground for a reason.

He checks the silks themselves and makes sure they’re still sturdy, then goes about securing them.

Finally ready to begin, he thinks through the motions he’d seen people do in the videos.

…and when he tries them he promptly falls on his face.

Again

And again

And again

Just as he thinks he’s finally starting to get the basic locks, the alarm rings through the cave.

Dick untangles himself from the silks (if he gets more tangled in the process, that’s between him and the empty room) and jogs out of the training area. He can just barely see Bruce disappearing up the stairs.

So not a bat emergency.

...Probably

He glances between the stairs and the computer, ultimately deciding to see whatever triggered the lock down procedure.

No use barging upstairs completely unprepared for whatever situation is there.

On the computer, security footage is frozen on a single frame.

A man, dressed in cargo pants and an oversized hoodie (impressive, considering the man is close to Bruce’s size), with dark hair and a startlingly white streak falling over his forehead.

Part of his face is obscured by a domino mask, and clearly a good quality one at that.

He’s standing in front of the Murcielago, flipping off the camera, and a wild grin splits his face.

There’s a stack of tires in the corner behind him, tire iron gripped in the hand not flipping the camera off.

The weird thing is (even weirder that is), the footage is dated to 2 hours ago.

That shouldn’t be possible.

Bruce has an absurd amount of alarms and sensors all around the manor, it should have alerted the second it picked up on an unrecognized presence.

Dick rushes upstairs to the garage, and he finds Bruce standing in an empty parking spot. There’s keys scattered on the ground, the board that usually holds them has been tossed carelessly across the floor. Most of the cars are untouched, except for the missing one and the Murcielago. It’s missing its tires, but the thief didn’t actually take them. They’re stacked up on the wall behind the car, just like they appeared on the footage.

Bruce isn’t even looking at his car though, focused solely on the missing one.

Dick catalogs the cars present, running them against the ones he knew should be there.

Jason’s car.

The thief stole the car Bruce meant to give to Jason for his 16th birthday.

_________________________________________________

Just before Jason steps out the door to “his” (Bruce’s) safehouse, grapple hooked on his belt (you think he’s walking all the way to the manor? Fuck no. the safehouse is close, but not that close), the lights flicker, and a speaker crackles.

Jason freezes, eyes flicking over to Damian’s sleeping form.

The kid didn’t stir, and nothing else seems out of place.

His hand creeps over to the gun strapped to his thigh, before a voice filters through the speaker.

“Jason Peter Todd!” A familiar voice shouts.

Barbara. Of course.

He’d foolishly assumed she’d left Gotham, or was otherwise out of the vigilante game.

Nope.

She’d just moved to behind the scenes.

“...Are we gonna have a problem, Barbie?”

“Oh, we already have a problem. Multiple of them, actually.”

“Right. Could we discuss this later? I have shit to do.”

“Nope. Sit your ass down.” Her voice is still too loud, he can see Damian start to shift in his sleep.

“Only if you lower the voice. If you wake Damian up, we’re gonna have a whole separate problem.”

“Is that seriously your only concern?” Despite the disdain dripping from her voice, she does speak softer.

Jason sits on the couch, fiddling with the blanket covering Damian.

“The kid’s got a concussion, it’s much more pleasant for us all if he sleeps it off.”

“Fine.” She pauses, taking a breath before continuing, “Why didn’t you tell anyone you were alive?”

“What, you mean when I came back? Or when I woke up.”

“Either, both. We would have helped you, Jason.”

“Well, Talia picked me up, and I didn’t really have a way to contact you. Nor did I want to. When I came back, I told Alfred when I dropped the kid off. No one else needed to know.”

“Jay…”

“I’m doing perfectly fine on my own, Barbie. I don’t need your pity.” He stands, heading for the door. “If that’s all, I have shit to do.”

“Sit back down, I’m not done.”

“Well hurry up, then.”

“Why did you take Damian?”

“Y’mean besides the fact he asked me to?” Jason shrugs, “I missed the kid, Bruce clearly isn’t paying enough attention to him. My kid, my rules.”

“He’s not your kid, though.”

“May as well be.”

Damian wakes up, then, “Akhi?” The word slurs sleepily, and something in Jason softens.

“Hey, Habibi.” He strides back over to the couch. “How’s your head feeling?”

Damian shrugs, reaching for him.

“Well that’s descriptive, Princeling.” Jason obliges him, scooping the kid up and settling him on his hip. “Y’hungry? You slept through dinner.” There’s not much here, but he found some cans of soup.

He distantly hears Barbara coo through the speaker, and flips off the room behind him. There’s a camera somewhere, she’ll get the message.

Damian shakes his head before resting it on Jason’s shoulder.

“Well ya gotta eat somethin’, kid.”

“Clearly you two are fine. Want some help with whatever plan you have concocted?” Babs speaks again.

Jason smirks, carrying Damian to the kitchen and setting him in a chair. “Wanna help me fuck with Bruce?”

“...That depends. What’s the plan?”

“I need an agreement you won’t rat me out to the old man. I don’t want him to know where I am, or that I’m alive.”

“I’ll agree, on the condition you tell him eventually. And that you return Damian or work out a custody agreement.”

“Barbie...you know he doesn't want me there. It's better for all involved if he doesn't know I'm alive."

"I have no clue where you got that stupid ass idea," He can hear her digh on the other line, "Problem for another day. If you want my help, I need you to agree to my terms."

"...Fine. Deal.” Jason is not pouting. He's above that.

“Ok then. What’s the plan?”

Jason talks her through the plan, and where she would come in while he ladles some soup into a bowl for Damian. He can’t completely overwrite the security system, or loop it like she can.

Once he has Babs’ agreement, and Damian is fed (and quickly falling back asleep), Jason gets ready to head out again.

“Ok, Dames, I have to go out for a bit. I should be back in about an hour and a half, two hours tops. Will you be ok on your own?”

Damian just nods his agreement, and Jason takes him back to the bedroom to sleep some more.

Once he’s thrown on a domino mask, dark oversized hoodie and cargo pants, Babs hacks his phone and puts her number in it, along with a message.

You can enter as normal, your access was never erased. I’ll cover your tracks, loop the cameras, and make sure you don’t trigger the sensors.

Jason smirks, and begins the journey towards Wayne Manor.

He’s lost some time due to Barbara’s delay, but hopefully he’ll still be able to get through his plan.

Once he finally arrives at the gate, he enters his code and watches as the buzzer turns green, the gates opening slowly.

Jason grins, and makes his way towards the manor.

His original goal was just to take a car, but now that he’s here…

May as well have more fun than that.

First stop: Bruce’s bedroom.

He needs to get his baby brother’s book back.

He still can’t believe Bruce took that from him, he never once took Jason’s books when he was younger, but the one time Damian is reading one of Jason’s books, there’s a problem.

No matter, Jason will just steal his book back.

Thankfully, the tree he always used to sneak in and out (usually unsuccessfully, but only due to the sensors in the yard. This time, he has Barbara covering for him) is still there, and he’s able to scale it and make his way into his old bedroom.

From there, it’s easy to make it down the hall without being seen.

He cracks the door quietly, resolutely not thinking about how familiar the action is, from all the times he’d sought comfort from Bruce at night.

He doesn’t get that anymore.

He never will, and he’s accepted that.

…hasn’t he?

Jason shakes the thoughts off as he crosses the threshold of the room.

The book is pretty easy to find, it’s just sitting on Bruce’s nightstand.

Jason grabs it, taking a second to read some of his old annotations.

Bruce’s bed is as comfortable as Jason remembers, and it’s a battle to stand up and walk out.

Maybe he could come home?

The Bruce he remembered would welcome him.

But—

I’m not your father. I don’t have time for your teenage rebellion

No.

Jason doesn’t need him.

He’s here for a reason, anyway.

Shaking his head to clear the thoughts, Jason forces himself to leave the room, to leave his fath-- Bruce behind.

It’s a bit more risky to get to the garage, he has to stay in the open a lot longer than the short path from his old room to Bruce’s. If he miscalculated, or just spent too long talking with Barbara, and the bats are already back from patrol, he could get caught.

He forces himself to walk slowly, paying attention to make sure there is no one around the corners.

All his caution is futile though, as he passes Bruce’s study, Alfred appears in his path. Both of them freeze, and Jason opens his mouth to stay something. His jaw snaps shut at a raised eyebrow from him, and Alfred extends a tray full of various snacks towards him.

Jason tentatively snags a cookie off the tray and starts walking past him. Alfred nods once, and continues into the study.

The rest of the way to the garage is clear, thankfully.

Jason tucks the book into a pocket in his cargo pants—thankfully this copy is a small paperback, not the larger hardback like the first edition in the library—and heads over to the wall of keys.

The choice is pretty easy, he wants to fuck with Bruce as much as possible.

He grabs the keys for the red Toyota Camry, specifically the car Bruce was set to give Jason for his 16th birthday. The car they picked out together.

He pockets the keys, and just before he’s about to turn and leave, an idea strikes him. A small smirk spreads across his face, as he grabs the edge of the boarding holding the keys, and tosses it across the ground. The keys scatter, like intended.

With that handled, there’s only one more thing he needs to do before heading back to Damian.

He finds a tire iron in a nearby tool cabinet, and spins it casually as he walks towards Bruce’s favorite car: the Lamborghini Murcielago.

Because of course the fucker had to go with a car that means bat in spanish.

Jackass.

For an expensive car, the tires are pretty easy to steal. Bruce should work on that, you’d think he learned after a little punk stole his tires the first time.

He gets the tires off quickly, and rolls them to the side.

He grins, turning to one of the cameras in the garage, and flips it off.

Dropping the tire iron to the ground, he heads back to the camry.

He has a kid to get back to.

By the time Jason is pulling up to the safehouse again, Babs has dealt with covering his tracks and sending the footage to Bruce.

The sky is starting to lighten, the sun not quite rising yet.

There’s a bag of food sitting on the front step, and he scoops that up on his way in. He sets it on the counter and peels his domino mask off, then pulls Pride and Prejudice out of his pocket.

He runs his fingers through his hair as he heads to the bedroom to check on Damian, exhaustion weighing on him.

Only, when he opens the door, Damian is nowhere to be found.

The sheets are rumpled, there’s an indent on the pillow where Damian was sleeping.

But the kid is nowhere in sight.

Jason’s heart drops, chest constricting as he tears through the rest of the house.

There’s not much ground to cover, but the conclusion is the same.

Damian is gone.

[ladytie]

more of my nat & peter in gotham brainrot bc i can not elp it:

it took natasha romanoff three days to find suitable housing conditions for herself and boy spider. it took three hours for red hood to take note of the newest occupants of crime alley. and yes, while natasha would have preferred an area with less issues going on, it was cheap and no one asked questions. and well she alone can take care of herself and the kid, not to mention the kids own prowess.

she was walking down the street, a baseball hat covering her auburn hair and her hands in her trench coats pockets when she heard grunts and pleads. she wasn’t supposed to be doing the whole hero thing here, not yet at least. not until she had more information on where here was. but of course the kid had other plans, his sense pointing him in the direction of the obvious punching noises.

“pete!” she called after him, taking a slight jog before sprinting when she realized he wasn’t going to stop nor slow down.

when she rounded the corner she saw a man in what seemed to be a bat costume flung into a wall, and peter, the sweetheart he is, helping up a young woman dressed as a cat(?). she had heard of this bat from a few neighbors. he was some crime lord or something around town, because whenever someone had a bruised something they’d always end up cursing the bat for it. before she could go towards peter to help, a young thing, perhaps eleven years old ran to peter. clearly prepared for a fight?

“woah there!” peter said, easily evading the attacks with a sword. peter caught nat’s eyes and she could tell they were thinking the same thing. he must be a child soldier for this bat-thing. her head snapped to the man, she pulled her hat a little lower, trying to conceal some type of anonymity.

“robin,” the man’s voice was far too gruff and gargled to be real. it sounded like he was calling the young child off, but the feral thing wouldn’t or couldn’t stop. she remembers being in the red room, when they’d tell her to stop as a test. when she did, she’d be punished for showing mercy. and when she didn’t, she’d be punished for not obeying her betters.

something inside her burned.

she headed towards the man, there quicker than he had anticipated. clearly the man was trained, and clearly he hadn’t expected her to be. it took her thirteen seconds to learn his fighting style. to use it against him. and it seemed to have taken him fifteen to get used to hers.

one minute she was twirling around him, producing punches with quickness rather than strength, trying to tire him out. and then, she’d be planting her feet firmly on the ground, forcing him to use his strength to try to move her. when he finally landed a blow, a solid right hook to her left cheek she laughed. this was the most fun she had since coming to Gotham.

“misses widow!” she snapped her head to see the young boy had peter cornered, along with another girl dressed in spandex. she blinked a few times before sighing. peter would not hurt the clearly young children, not even if one was around his own age. not even to save his life. maybe hers, but he knew she had herself handled.

playtime was over.

a quick maneuver, one bucky had taught her, using the own man’s weight and weapons against him had him pinned to the wall of the dinghy alley way. “call your child soldiers off” she growled, threatening to break his arm.

“you. first.” he said back, his arm being twisted further and further and yet he made no sound of discomfort. “i don’t think you’re in the position to make demands,” she whispered near his ear, her breath hot against it.

then she heard the specific sound of a gun clicking to the back of her head.

“you sure about that, doll?”

[thatthirdtriplet]

Relationship:

Tim Drake & Jason Todd

Characters:

Jason Todd Tim Drake Alfred Pennyworth Bruce Wayne Dick Grayson

Additional Tags:

5+1 Things implied/Referenced Character Death Jason Todd is Red Hood Sort Of Tim Drake is Robin Jason Todd-centric manipulative Jason Todd Jason Todd Has Issues Jason Todd Being a Little Shit Jason Todd Being an Idiot Tim Drake Lacks Self-Preservation Instincts oblivious Tim Drake enemies to Friends sibling Bonding coffee au swearing hugs misunderstandings Tim Drake Needs a Hug Tim Drake Needs a Break Tim Drake & Jason Todd Bonding crying

Summary:

After coming back to Gotham, and despite many objections to the name, Jason becomes the Red Hood; newest ally to The Dynamic Duo. Except, Jason has a plan. A really big plan. An evil plan. A plan to get rid of Robin permanently (but not in the dead sense).

Where Red Hood isn't a crime lord on a warpath, but instead trying to destroy The Bats from the inside by pushing Robin out of the nest. Although, his plan might need a couple readjustments when things start going off script. Good thing Tim is too oblivious to realize Jason's brilliant master-minding skills.