#Titans fanfic

[midnightstar-90]

Dog Confessions

Garfield Logan x Reader

Taglist | Request | Wattpad Main Masterlist | DC Comics Masterlist

Summary: The Titans return home from a mission to find Gar and Y/N asleep on the couch. And Gar is a dog?

Warnings: Fluff, Gar as a literal dog 🥰💖 A/N: Long time no see. Yeah, I know! But here I am giving you this in return. Words: 1.4K

The Titans arrived home from their mission, only to be welcomed to silence. Kory, Rachel, Connor, and Dick each sent each other a look before Dick called out to the two members they'd left behind. When there wasn't an answer, the four instantly began to panic. That was until something green and lumpy poked out of a cover on the couch.

Dick motioned for Kory, Connor, and Rachel to stay back so that he could investigate, and the three hesitantly stayed where they were. As Dick approached the living room area, more features became more noticeable. The lump on the couch seemed way too big to be just Gar or Y/N. But when he saw a sliver of a hairy tail against a human leg, Dick instantly knew what was going on.

Dick moved closer to the other side of the couch and took a look at the other end of the cover. A small smile appeared on Dick's face as he gazed upon a sleeping Y/N who was cuddled up with a green labrador, which Dick assumed to be Gar, also sleeping.

"Dick, what is it?" Kory asked, speaking for herself, along with Connor and Rachel. She and the two teenagers behind her were genuinely confused about the situation and were unsure of how to handle the situation.

Dick didn't say a word. Instead, he shushed the magenta-haired woman and pointed down at the couch before walking over to the group.

"Y/N and Gar are asleep and I don't want to wake them," Dick said.

Everyone's mouths dropped in shock as they all took a quick glance over to the lumpy figure on the couch. Kory turned to Dick, "They're sleep? On the couch?" Dick only nodded at the woman's question. His smile grew larger by the minute.

After taking another look at the couch, Rachel decided to jump in. "Wow?" she started, walking toward the couch for a better view. "I mean- I had my thoughts, but I didn't actually think that they'd get together."

"I didn't know he could turn into a dog," Connor said, scratching his head.

Dick and Kory sent each other a knowing smile. Rachel was right. They all thought the two were dating. There were clear signs. Between the frequent nights out, how they always share the first bite of their food with the other, and this, the group could only confirm their suspicions. Unless they deny it.

If they denied the dating rumors, then maybe they were wrong. But everyone could see the chemistry between the two.

“Alright,” Dick started as he began to usher everyone out of the room. “Let’s let them sleep.”

Kory and Connor did as they were told but Rachel decided to stay back. “One sec,” she called out, pulling out her phone. She opened the camera app and said, “I just want to document this for future purposes.”

She snapped the picture, forgetting to turn the sound off, making Gar’s ears poke up. One of his eyes slowly opened to reveal his dark brown eyes staring directly at Rachel, who was staring back with a mischievous grin.

Gar panicked and quickly morphed back into his human self. Luckily, he was under the cover, or else everyone would have seen the one downside to his powers, again.

“What’s going on?” Gar asked nervously, taking his gaze away from Rachel to look at everyone, and then back at Rachel.

“When were you gonna tell me you and Y/N were dating?” Rachel asked with a fake pout.

Gar opened his mouth to speak, but when he looked over at Dick, Kory, and Connor who were all invested with what was going on he quickly closed it.

“Don’t lie to me, Gar. You and Y/N have been all lovey dovey for a while now. Even more than Dick and Kory.”

“Hey!” Dick and Kory yelled out at the same time.

“Y/N and I aren’t together. We’re just very close. She was asleep on the couch last night, and I saw she was having a nightmare. Without thinking I somehow morphed into a dog and cuddled up next to her, hoping it would help, and it did. So, I decided to stay.”

“Does she know that you’re currently lying against her with your naked butt, because in some cases, that would be assault?” Rachel asked with an amused grin on her face.

Gar was now beet face red with embarrassment. “W-well, I clearly didn’t have the intention of morphing into a human while laying next to her. I just wanted to help her,” Gar stuttered. He stood up, taking the cover with him, to cover himself and unknowingly woke up the girl he was previously laying with.

Rachel gasped, “You like Y/N!”

It’s safe to say that Gar did not like the confrontation. His face was getting redder by the minute and his heart was beating at immense speed. He was scared to admit his feelings whether Y/N knew or not.

Gar hesitated for a moment, looking away from Rachel before looking back at her. “Okay! Yes, I like Y/N!” He blurted out, causing everyone to jump a bit before sending the boy a loving smile.

Unknowingly to everyone, Y/N was also smiling. Her eyes remained shut, but a small smile made its way onto her lips. The girl remained silent, waiting to hear more before revealing herself.

“Why don’t you tell her that,” Kory said, jumping into the conversation.

Gar looked down at his feet and shrugged. “I don’t know. Y/N is amazing. She’s an awesome fighter, she’s a talented singer, and she has the best taste in everything. I guess I just didn’t want to lose what I have with her. I honestly don’t deserve her, and if I told her how I feel, I wouldn’t be surprised if she rejected me.”

Rachel smiled and placed a hand on Gar’s naked shoulder, “Gar, you’re an amazing guy also, and I can tell you that Y/N sees that too.”

Gar’s eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. “Really?” He asked, earning a nod from Rachel. He turned to the other three and they sent him a nod also.

“Just think about it. I’m sure she won’t say no,” Rachel said, sending one last glance to Y/N before walking away with a huge smile.

Gar watched as the four of them left the room. Behind him, Y/N had finally opened her eyes and was now sitting up on the couch to face him.

“They’re right, you know?” Y/N spoke softly, making Gar jump and turn to face the girl. Her face illuminated with joy as she smiled up at him. “You are an amazing guy.”

Gar’s face scrunched up in confusion. “You heard all that?” Gar asked, pointing at the empty hallway where Rachel, Kory, Dick, and Connor all exited the room from.

Y/N nodded, “And I saw that cute little butt of yours.” She giggled as Gar tightened the cover around his body.

“I appreciate what you tried to do for me.”

The green haired boy scratched the back of his neck. “It was nothing,” he said. “I’d help any of you guys out.”

“But you morphed into a dog for me,” Y/N argued, her face beaming with pleasure.

“I don’t know how I did that,” Gar admitted with a scoff.

“Exactly.” Y/N stood from her spot on the couch. “I guess I also have some feelings I’d like to admit,” Y/N said, sheepishly.

“Oh. And what might that be?” Gar asked, nervously looking away from the girl.

Y/N stepped closer and boldly wrapped her arms around the boy’s neck. Gar turned back to face the girl, surprised by her actions. “I may or may not have been withholding my romantic feelings for you also,” she admitted.

Gar was taken aback by the girl’s confession, but it didn’t stop the large grin from appearing on his face. He went to hug her but was stopped by the cover that was covering his body from the girl’s eyes.

He cleared his throat, “Ahem! I was going to hug you, but I don’t think it would be appropriate seeing as it’s the only thing holding up the things covering up… you know what.”

Y/N looked away, a little shocked by Gar’s response before she began to laugh. She gave his chest a gentle pat and said, “Okay, how about you go get dressed and after, we can go see a movie?”

Gar nodded as Y/N released him from her hold so that he could go change. She watched as he began to leave the room, occasionally stumbling over the large cover, making the girl chuckle.

If your User is in red, I could not find you. Please feel free to contact me if you’d like to be re-added. Taglist: @geli-likes-stuff, @tractsnook, @esposadomd, @avada-kedavra-bitch-187,

[itsalliny0urhead]

Good Boy (Dick Grayson x fem!reader)

💀🖤 I think this is my favourite one I’ve written so far. Do you want more parts? You left the League and never looked back — trading justice for blood and silk and the thrill of taking exactly what you want. When Dick shows up at your door years later, rain-soaked and desperate, asking for your help… you decide to say yes.

For a price.

Dick Grayson x fem!reader — enemies to lovers / ex-lovers / villain!reader

The penthouse is decadent.

Moonlight spills through floor-to-ceiling windows, casting the city in silver at your back. Crystal glasses glint on the bar. A man’s wristwatch ticks softly on the marble countertop — its owner nowhere in sight. The whole place hums with something warm and wrong, like luxury pressed over rot.

He steps inside uninvited, though the lock’s already broken. You never leave doors intact. They don’t deserve that kind of mercy.

Then he sees you.

Reclined on a velvet chaise like a serpent in silk, legs bare, neck glowing in the pale light. Wine glass in hand, fingers lazy around the stem. A bloodstained blade resting on your thigh. Casual. Intimate. Like it belongs there.

There’s a smear of red across your collarbone. Still wet.

“Grayson,” you purr, not bothering to look up. “I was wondering when you’d come crawling.”

His mouth goes dry.

“You killed them, didn’t you?”

Your gaze lifts — slow, deliberate. Your eyes gleam like a blade unsheathed.

“Which ones?”

He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t have to.

This penthouse belonged to someone else — their coats still hang in the entryway. A framed photo smiles from the wall. A child’s drawing on the fridge, curling at the edges. You haven’t erased them. Just claimed the space like a queen conquering a kingdom.

You’ve never tried to be clean. You made yourself unholy.

“I need your help,” he says, jaw clenched.

That earns him a laugh — low, husky, deliciously cruel. You tilt your head, silk slipping lower on your shoulder, revealing the edge of a bruise or maybe a bite.

“Oh, sweetheart,” you breathe, “you must be desperate.”

You set the glass down without looking, the clink of crystal against marble slicing clean through the quiet.

Then you rise.

Slow. Languid. Every movement deliberate. Your bare feet whisper across the hardwood, silk sliding over skin like it was poured there — clinging to the swell of your hips, the line of your thighs, the sharp curve of your collarbone still kissed with blood. Not a costume. Not armor.

You wear danger like perfume.

And he — he stands frozen, soaked from the rain, boots bleeding water onto the polished floor, pulse hammering under his skin like it knows.

You stop in front of him, not touching. Just hovering. Close enough that he can smell you — not just wine and something floral, but something darker underneath. Copper. Smoke. A hint of gunpowder that makes his stomach twist.

This close, you’re both everything he remembers and nothing like the girl he used to know.

Once, you used to laugh when you sparred — wild, breathless, too sharp for your own good. He used to call you reckless. You’d grin and say he was just afraid to lose.

Once, you used to braid your hair before missions. Sit on the edge of the rooftop, tongue caught between your teeth as you wove it tight with shaking hands. He’d watch you from a distance, pretending not to care.

Now? Now your hair’s loose — wild, untamed, drying in waves that frame your face like something feral. Your eyes glint like broken glass.

“You look good,” you say, voice low and thick with something dangerous. “Little worn. Little wet.” Your gaze drops, lingers. “Still pretending you’re not exactly where you want to be.”

His jaw tightens. “I didn’t come here for this.”

“No,” you hum, “you came to beg.”

You take one slow step closer, and he doesn’t stop you.

Your fingers trace his jaw — featherlight, but it burns. Like contact with something holy and forbidden. You touch him like you have a right to. Like you still own the map of his skin.

“You want my help,” you whisper, thumb dragging over the edge of his lip, “but you’re choking on it. On me.”

He doesn’t breathe.

There was a night — years ago — after a mission that went sideways. You’d stolen a bottle of vodka from the med bay. Pushed it into his hands. Sat beside him on the floor, your backs to the wall, your knee pressed against his. Your voice had gone quiet when you’d said, “We’re not built to be good forever.”

He hadn’t believed you.

Until you proved it.

“You’re not the same person,” he says now, barely audible.

You smile — slow, sharp, brutal.

“No,” you murmur. “I’m better.”

Your hand trails lower — down his chest, over the line of his belt, not quite touching. Teasing. Threatening. You’re not sure which would be worse for him.

“And you,” you continue, voice a blade wrapped in silk, “still clinging to that broken little moral compass like it ever pointed north. But you came here. To me.”

You lean in — lips brushing his ear, your breath warm and cold all at once.

“So say it, Grayson. Say the words. I want to hear them bleed.”

There’s a version of you in his memory, sitting cross-legged on the Watchtower floor, humming under your breath while disassembling a prototype bomb — hands steady, eyes shining, voice soft when you said, “Do you think we’ll ever get out?”

That girl is gone.

And yet — when he looks at you now, standing there in blood and silk and sin — he’s not sure you didn’t become something more terrifyingly honest.

“I need you,” he says, broken and raw.

Finally.

You exhale like a slow smile, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes.

“Good boy.”

You move like you own the room. Like you own him.

He doesn’t follow when you turn away — just watches you glide toward the bar again, silk whispering over skin, blood still drying on your shoulder. The room smells like wine and metal. Like sex and death.

You finish your drink in a single, slow swallow, red lips staining the glass. Then you set it down, turn, and lean back against the bar — arms folded, head tilted, smiling like you’re already undressing him with your eyes.

Because you are.

“You’re lucky I’m in a good mood tonight,” you say. “I’ve killed for less than the way you looked at me when you walked in.”

His voice scrapes low. “You’ve killed for less than everything.”

You grin. “Exactly.”

There’s a flicker — just a breath of memory:

You were sixteen the first time you went off-mission. The intel was bad. The target was worse. You slit a man’s throat in an alley while Dick watched, stunned, heart thudding in his chest. You didn’t flinch. Just wiped the blade on your sleeve and said, “If we leave him breathing, he follows us.”

He hadn’t slept that night. You had.

Now, you step forward again, slow and smooth, eyes never leaving his. Your fingertips skim along the back of a leather chair as you pass it. You’re circling him again — like hunger in human skin.

“But I’ll help you,” you say, almost sweetly. “For a price.”

You stop behind him. He can feel the heat of you, the press of the silence between.

“I want a night,” you whisper — right at the edge of his ear, voice thick like molasses, like something you drown in. “With you. Not Robin. Not Nightwing. Not whatever mask you’re wearing this week.”

Your hands slide over his shoulders, down his arms — slow and teasing and cruel. “I want the part of you that still wants me,” you breathe, “no matter how hard you’ve tried to forget.”

His hands curl into fists.

He remembers the night before you left. No uniform. No orders. Just the two of you on the Watchtower roof, watching Earth rotate in silence. You’d kissed him like it was a secret. Like you didn’t know when you’d get the chance again. And when you pulled back, you looked him in the eye and said:

“One day, I’m going to do something you can’t forgive.”

He hadn’t said anything.

Maybe you were waiting for him to ask you not to. Maybe that’s why you left.

Now you pull around in front of him again, your lips so close he can taste the wine on your breath.

“When this is over,” you say, dragging one finger slowly up his chest, “you come back here. And I’ll ruin you properly. Take my time with it. Peel off every pretty lie you’ve wrapped around yourself just to breathe.”

You lean in — tongue flicking the edge of his jaw. Your lips graze his skin like a brand.

“I want you kneeling. Bleeding. Mine.”

His voice is rough. “You always wanted ownership more than love.”

You smile. “Ownership is love, darling. You just never learned how to take it.”

And god help him — something in him still aches for you.

Still remembers the way you used to laugh when you trained together. The thrill in your eyes when you landed a hit. The sound of you, breathless in the dark, whispering:

“We could be legends, Dick.”

He wanted to be a hero. You wanted to be a god.

“…Deal,” he says again, quieter. Like a confession.

You step back — satisfied. Triumphant.

“Good boy.”

[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.

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[oneshots-heaven]

THE MOTEL ROOM — "The Begin"

Since the beginning, Dick Grayson and you were trained and put up as the perfect rivals. Two individuals with different perspectives who yet want the same out of life. Meeting each other over and over again, it is the same situation: one wins, the other loses—but it all ends in the same motel room. 

And it all began with the day you two met...

Warning: NSFW — explicit violence, cursing, mentions of injuries/killing in detail, mentioned co-dependence (mentor/mentee), bit angsty fluff Pre-Titans — Dick Grayson x Reader

Your knee hit with force right in the groin of the men attacking you, kneeling him down in one swing. Fear widened the eyes of his partners, yet they stood their ground. As much as they wished to simply give in to their fear, they all had given their boss a vow that did not allow them to do so. Eyes glistening, you smiled grimly, recking your chin up as you signaled them to come right at you. 

No matter how much you made them shit their pants, they were still men with their full blown ego. Every second they showed their fear of a girl, it felt like poison to them and they hated it. 

A roaring sound filled the badly lit alley as the first men stepped forward, wielding his fists at you. Ducking it easily, you had already grabbed his arm, twisting it harshly. The others came at you, trying to help their poor fellow. While their hatred fueled their actions, yours were fueled by the euphoric sound of their pain, pushing the adrenaline in your body as it worked its will.

Two of them hang onto your arms, holding them back as tightly as they possibly could, to give the third one a free way to fight you off. What a brutal mistake they’d made. 

Just as they can close off to hurt you, you smashed your head hard enough against his nose. Crying out loud, he tumbled back, raising his arms to his bleeding nose. The only concern he could suddenly concentrate on. Using all the muscle strength you had in your core, you pulled the men down with you. Only difference was that unlike them, you rolled yourself gracefully over your shoulder, leaving them on the ground. 

They would struggle for a longer while. 

Leaving them behind in the alley, you started to run over to the old brick factory where all the chaos came from. Fucking hell, this hadn’t been how your mentor and you had pictured this entire situation to go down, but standing here and crying about it wouldn’t change it now either. As for now, the knowing that your mentor probably had the situation handled was the only relief. 

Running into the factory, you tried to catch up with her, but soon realized you ran into much more trouble than you had imagined. The small group of the Duke’s men outside now resembled a foreplay, while what happened in front of your eyes was the true battle ground, and it didn’t take long until you were noticed. 

“Looks like the cat has let out her kitten,“ one laughed, pulling all the attention to where his gaze was glued—you. 

The men came storming toward you, you only had the briefest of a moment to overlook the situation. Not enough to try and check how your mentor was doing. 

Drawing out your knives from your thigh halter, you greeted the fight with a vicious grin. Once there may had been a time where you had used to hold back, but you couldn’t remember any of it. Those days were long over and given by their blind reaction, they all underestimated you and they would be sorry for it. The first hit felt freeing, like a calling to a greater power. This was what you were born for, trained to master and dared to live. 

Their throaty groans and roars echoed in your ears as your knives struck into some of the weakest points of their bodies, their soft skin lushly craving in, standing no chance against your quick movements. Until they got ahead of themselves, one dared to grab after one of your knives, walking into open fire as it dived deep through his arm, blood splashing right in your face. 

Fuck this shit.

Fueled by every single of their groans, you struck over and over again, fighting your way through the newly formed group of opponents until all of your gymnastic and tactic skills weren’t enough anymore. You felt the cold metal resting against your skull. You didn’t even have to turn to know what it was, your gut told you. Putting down the bloody knives back in your halter, you breathed out just as a shot rang through the chaos of the old factory. 

Your entire body tightened in surprise, however, the plump sound of a body falling down to the ground was the testimony you were waiting for. Gulping, still struck by the sudden shock, you turned slowly to see that someone had perfectly hit the pulse artery of your opponent’s neck.

“Were you waiting for death?“ someone called out. 

A guy, not much taller than you, dressed in a dark costume with a cape draped over his shoulders and a black mask covering his eyes, came closer to you. You’d never seen him before.

“And who are you?“ you asked, instead of answering his question. 

His dark, brown hair was long enough to fall into his face, almost covering his eyes. Nevertheless, it didn’t seem to be a handicap as he appeared to be an excellent shooter. 

His equally dark gaze met yours, eyeing you seemingly from inch to inch. “Doesn’t matter, but looks like we fight for the same side.“ 

Much worse than the shot was the sudden astonishing sound of an explosion that shook the walls of the entire factory, filling it with fire, broken glass and rubble that spread everywhere. Within one swift movement, the stranger had swung his cape over your bodies shielding you both from the massive heat wave and shatter that rolled over you. Your ribcage was moving heavily against his firm one as you found yourself held securely in his arms.

“Don’t expect me to thank you for that.“ 

“I won’t.“ he assured you bitterly.

The stranger pulled back his cape, revealing the destruction that had just occurred. Your body trembled next to his, feeling his assuring warmth leaving you. Although fear had become a foreign feeling to you, it always found a way to creep back up on you. It had been long since you had last seen your mentor and this was going far out of control. You couldn’t trust the blindness of trust anymore—you had to make sure she was fine. 

Without another word to the stranger, you headed straight toward the destruction, knowing something or someone had caused it and that your mentor couldn’t be far from it. Gun shots, followed by unfamiliar yells came right from the direction of the towering rubble. The explosion had wrecked down almost an entire wall, flooding the factory with the construction lights from outside. 

Chaos was erupting wherever she looked, drowning any of her thoughts with the sounds of gun shots and cries. Swinging out of nowhere onto the facade scaffolding, your mentor came into your sight, followed by a darker, taller figure. One that she never officially introduced you to, yet always talked about—it was Batman. Indulging in the fight happening around them, they were fighting side by side.

“Guess you’re right. We do fight for the same side.“ you murmured, noticing how the stranger had caught up to you.

The calm before the storm lasted for the briefest of moments. Much like your mentor, the stranger suddenly whipped backwards out of nowhere, and within one bones-cracking movement, he had brought down a man, stomping brutally on his hand to force him to let go of the knife he wanted to attack you with. His yells drove deep through your bones, vexing you in the best way possible. 

Glancing from the man to the stranger, you had so much to say but no words came out. 

“Then you better show me what you’ve got.“ he challenged you, nodding to the incoming trouble rushing toward you. You heard his knuckles crack, balling his fists as you drew out your knives, ready to take on any fight if it meant to keep your and might as well his mentor’s back free. 

As the group of Duke’s misfits came closer to you, you immediately recognized their change of weaponry—for the worse, as they had exchanged the usual guns to the Duke’s specialized ones. 

“Don’t get hit,“ you warned, knowing the greater danger of the Duke’s bullets.  

“Wouldn’t dream of it, princess.“ 

Furiously you turned around, sending him a glare for that pet name. He was cocky, overall too confident to be this cool through a fight that could potentially end his life, and it frustrated you to the maximum. This wasn’t some sort of game, no matter how much he tried to turn it that way. Neither of you wouldn’t make it out without any hurt if you didn’t watch out. He, however, recked his chin up, as if he was daring death by any chance to come by. 

Combat was nothing compared to a gun, it would always defy the other, but you were quick—quicker than them with their guns. The stranger was too, he struck perfectly every single time, bringing down men after men. Shots rang from everywhere, spiraling around you and your opponents, trying your best to keep yourself away from the bullets. 

But no training could make every flaw of one vanish. A high-pitch voice cried out from a far, ringing in your ears, causing you to turn your attention away for the split of a moment. On the rooftop of the factory next door was your mentor with a dark shadow draped over her. Your heartbeat got stuck in your throat, causing you to gasp after air. He would keep her safe, or that was at least what you hoped for. 

A laughter, followed by someone calling out for you, pulled you harshly out of your trance. The shot rung so insanely close by you that you were able to feel the vibration. You tried catching your breath, it had almost scraped your skin. 

No material was able to withstand the Duke’s experimental bullets—they were perfect into its smallest detail and were as deadly as their description. As soon as they entered one’s skin barrier, the bullet would shatter into millions of small pieces, wounding one very little at first, before painfully killing them due to internal bleeding. 

You looked the horror straight in the eye as another shot rung, seeing exactly how the bullet hit the stranger through his suit in the lower abdomen. All color vanished from your face. Within seconds, he crunched in pain, unable to keep up the defense and becoming an easy target for your opponents, but not if he was with you. 

Picking up the blades that you had dropped, you picked up one by one before they’d come to the realization what you were doing. Pushing yourself up on your feet, you threw the first knife, striking straight into the neck of one, and then another. The anger, and mainly worry for the stranger, blinded and caused you to go riot. You had no idea if the bullet had hit him or not, if he was bleeding already, however you couldn’t get to him, not if there were still people attacking you around. 

The last one plunged forward, wrapping his arm around your neck, choking you with his hold. Grabbing onto his arm, you stabilized yourself from his sudden act but were quick to think, ramming your knife the next second in the soft part of his thigh, probably slashing a few veins in the process. His groans echoed in your ears, as you pressed your lips angrily together, ripping it out again, only to wind it down again and again until he let go of you. 

His cries of pain grew louder as you kneeled him in his groin, letting him sack onto his knees. His angered eyes were glued onto you. The only words that escaped his mouth were bad names, but you didn’t care, it would be his last ones. Your knife slashed his throat, ceasing away his voice, having the blood splashing right in your face as you dig your knife deep enough for him to never speak again. 

The voice of your mentor echoed through your head. Ever since the beginning, she had taught you that death was the last option, and although you could have punished that man without killing him, it was what he had deserved. 

Glancing over to the stranger, you instantly banished any further thought of regret out of your head, running over and crashing right down on your knees next to him. His breath whistled through his throat, his chest only heaved with struggle causing your hands to become shaky. He couldn’t die in front of you after just saving your life, this wouldn’t be fair. You took a closer look where the bullet hit, checking for the awful impact, as relief rushed over you. The Duke’s ultimate weapon may not be as unavoidable as he thinks. The bullet had struck deep into the hard shell of his suit, withholding the full impact of it. 

“Thank God,“ you breathed, meeting the stranger’s helpless gaze as you held onto him. 

The unsteady metal platform underneath you vibrated under the jolt as someone—might add elegantly—swung their way onto it. In-between the chaos of it all, your mentor came closer to you, noticing what had happened. Kneeling down on the opposite sided of the stranger, she leaned down, also inspected the wound with great fear. 

“He’s lucky,“ you told her, pointing at the bullet entrance. “The suit shell stopped the bullet, somehow. I can stabilize him and then we can go find the Duke.“ 

“No,“ your mentor interrupted you immediately, brushing the dark brown hair of the stranger out of his face, a motherly gesture, as if she knew him. A concerned, yet loving gaze hushed over her face as you watched her closely. “You need to bring him away from here, somewhere safe. Check on him and make sure he survives the night. I’ll come for you.“ 

As you processed her words, you shook your head. This had become the biggest mission for your mentor and you since the beginning of it all. You had hunted down the Duke for almost an entire year by now, only for all of this to turn out much bigger than either of you had expected. With almost experienced firsthand what the bullet could do, there was no way in hell you would let her do this without your help, even if she didn’t need it. You were trained for this, and for this only. You couldn’t let her do this on her own. 

Letting go of the stranger, you pushed yourself up and caught her wrist. “No, I’m coming with you.“ 

“We’ll handle this, trust me.“ she said, grabbing your hand, squeezing it tightly before letting go of you, ready to storm into the next fight. “Please, do me the favor and protect Robin.“ 

Jumping off the platform, she was quick to getaway, leaving you behind with the stranger. 

“No, I can’t,“ you yelled out, “Selina!“

Your eyes had burned as your mentor had turned her back on you, and even though every fiber of your body argued to go after her, you did as you were told to. 

Unlike you, the stranger didn’t argue when you had draped his arms over your shoulders, helping him to get back up on his feet. His face had contorted in pain as he straightened himself. Without any second thought about it, you had reached out for his free hand to press it together with yours against the wound, because even though you didn’t know him, you couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. You had spent the entire past months analyzing every data and material about the Duke’s bullets you could get your hands on, knowing the brutal impact they caused all too well. 

As you had made your way carefully through the rubble of the factory, headed outside, a car came into your view. You didn’t care whose car it was, only having on your mind that you were in need of one to take the two of you somewhere safe, and you were glad that the stranger apparently didn’t care either. 

Gotham City’s streetlights flickered past you as you rushed through the late night traffic, driving out of the city, stopping somewhere in-between the highway and the next suburb at a familiar run down motel, where rarely anyone ever willingly stayed at. It was run by an old lady and her son, whom received anonymous checks with money once in a while for her unknown guests. It had served your mentor and you well many times, it was the perfect hideout when things got wrong as no one would ever question it. 

Given the dried blood all over your clothes and face, and the weapons strapped onto almost every limb of your body, you were more than thankful now to not go up and having to pay for a room. Instead you simply had done it as always—cracked the lock open and entered as if the place belonged to you. 

The blood hardened on your face, yet you could feel it cracking when you found yourself kneeled in front of the stranger, whom you had placed into the dusty, old wing chair. With great carefulness and even greater improvisation, you tried your utter best to take care of his wound, patting with a cloth soaked in cheap vodka from the minibar onto the wound. A sharp whimper left his mouth. 

“I’m sorry.“

“It’s fine,“ he falsely assured you through gritted teeth, looking down at you. 

Ignoring his lie, you shook your head as you continued to clean out the wound. It was far from being anything merely close to being fine, it was worse than you had thought. Although the hard shell of his suit had stopped the bullet’s full impact from entering his body, it had burned partly through the material, leaving a nasty, large burned scar on his lower torso. Unclothing him without hurting him at the same time seemed impossible, the suit material had burned slightly onto his skin. 

“I’m almost done,“ you told him, not knowing what else to talk about. You didn’t even know him, and the silent tension in the room was suffocating you. 

He didn’t say anything in return to, instead, he tried his best to suppress any noise of pain. Besides the small vodka bottle, you hadn’t found much to take care of his wound. It was pure luck that it was only a burned flesh wound, instead of an open one. Otherwise, you would’ve been fucked as there was nothing laying around to remotely sew it close. By ripping and shredding a towel with your knife, which went dull in the process of it, you had managed to makeshift a bandage for him. 

“Here, lean forward,“ you took the prepared bandage in your hand. 

Slowly he leaned forward, groaning in pain with every movement. As quickly as you were able to, you wrapped the towel remains around his torso, pulling it tight. It didn’t need to hold for long, it just needed to help him survive the night. 

“It’s not ideal, but it’s better than nothing,“ you sighed, reassuring yourself that the bandage was secure enough. Split seconds later, you held in, noticing your hands near his naked upper body, so close that you feel his warmth, his heartbeat racing, his breathing slowing down. In the next, you felt his eyes scrutinizing every inch of you, making you glance up to him to meet his eyes, only to catch him with parted lips. 

”Thank you,“ he breathed quietly in return. 

You gulped under the tension of his eyes watching you, letting go of his hips as you pushed yourself away from him until you could lean against the end of the bed. For the first time in this long night, you felt some sort of relief as you leaned your head back against the old mattress. Every part of your body felt tensed and sore, and while you tried your hardest to stay wake, you craved nothing more than to crawl into that dusty bed and get some rest. 

But you didn’t close your eyes. You couldn’t fall asleep, not until you saw her again and knew that nothing happened to her. Looking at the stranger, you were sure he felt the same way as he moved around unsettled in that chair, feeling miserable as he was unable to do anything due to the crushing pain that kept him sitting right there. 

“So, you’re Robin, huh? Batman’s little sidekick?“ 

A muffled chuckle escaped his mouth. “I’m far from being little.“

“You’re not even a head taller than me.“ 

He shrugged, regretting it immediately as another sharp whip of pain hit him. “So what, I’m still growing, unlike you probably.“ 

He wasn’t wrong about that. 

“You’re the Kitten everyone talks about.“ he said after you hadn’t said anything in return to him. 

You pressed your lips to a small smile. “That’s at least what everyone calls me.“ 

He pushed himself further down in the chair, letting out a breathy groan in response. “I already guessed that that wasn’t your real name.“ 

Meeting his dark gaze, you replied, “Well, I’ll take that Robin isn’t your real name either.“ 

“No, it’s Dick.“ 

“Dick? For real?“ you snorted, seeing the annoyance written all over his face as he rolled his eyes. “No, I get it. Short for Richard, right? I’m Y/N.“ 

He didn’t say anything in reply to that. You’d received nothing beyond a simple, barely recognizable nod. Not a false ’nice to meet you’, nor a silly comeback comment about your name. Instead, he and you fell into silence again, heads resting with eyes so heavy, drained from any energy and feeling so desperate for rest, yet neither of you dared to fall asleep. 

“You still have blood on your face.“ 

You felt it, how it dried down all over your face, cracking with every movement. Once your immediate reaction would have been to touch your face in astonished shock, now however, things were quite different. Instead, you sat there doing absolutely nothing about it. “I know,“ you replied quietly, “I don’t care.“ 

It was the truth, you didn’t a bit. It left you cold. 

“What do you care about?“ 

The tone of his voice clearly mocked you, although its tiredness, and it made you furious. Let alone looking at him suddenly made you regret that you had saved him as he was the reason you were stuck here. The reason why you weren’t with your mentor, fighting alongside her like you were supposed to. Now all you were left with his mockery tone and the bitter unknown of your mentor’s well-being. 

Batman may was with her, and God knows, what a skilled fighter he was, but that wasn’t enough for you. Your mentor and you had stood together for years now after she had taken you under her wing, no one knew her better than you did. You knew every move of hers, you knew when you were about to win, as well as when to give up a fight. No one could protect her as you could.

For months, you had watched the Duke and his following, trained and prepared to overthrow, only to end up being stuck with a stranger in a motel room.

“You know what I do care about?“ it left your mouth quicker, more harsher than you had intended. “I care about Selina. I care about the mission I had with her before Batman and you came along. We’ve had a plan, it would have all been fine if you hadn’t showed up, because now I’m stuck here, not knowing when or if she comes back, and that’s all your fault.“

“If I hadn’t shown up, they would’ve shot you right in the head.“

“So it be!“ you cried out.

He scoffed. “You can’t be serious.“

“Oh, I fucking am.“ 

All the pain seemed forgotten as he sat up straight, his eyes so sterling furious.

“Look, I understand exactly how you feel, but this was so much bigger than either of us had expected. We would’ve only been a burden for them, instead of help, and you would’ve been dead if I hadn’t been there to save you. As much as you have saved me with this.“ he argued, his voice cracking by the end, motioning to the bandage you had made. “I know this unknown sucks, but they will make it through. They’ve faced worse together already, have a little faith in them. She’ll come back for you.“ 

Hot tears shot in your eyes, as you loosened your balled fists. Facing away from him, you blinked them away, trying your utter best to keep yourself contained. You felt like a fool for reacting this intensely, especially in front of him. You’d noticed yourself a while ago how bad it had gotten, how much you depended on your relationship with Selina. She was the only family you had left and although she was far more experienced than you, letting her alone in a situation like this scared you. 

Your dependence made you vulnerable, and somehow you were glad that Dick didn’t use that as an advantage against you. Instead, he had said what you had needed to hear, almost as if he truly knew what it felt like to be this helpless and weak.

“Do you think this is what we’re supposed to do, what they’ve secretly wanted? Exchange our real names, befriend each other, because we’re both sidekicks?“ 

His mouth twitched upwards. “If you rather want me to call you kitten, I can do that.“ 

“No, I like it when—“ you murmured, suddenly regretting being so harsh to him. “Call me by my real name.“ 

“If you call me by mine.“ he said sincere, and for the briefest of moments, you held onto that. It was perhaps the closest thing to a friendship you’d experienced in years. 

Part 2 coming soon.

Thank you for reading — I'm always happy about feedback.

[evermoresversion]

ㅤ̸ ❛ 𝖩𝖺𝗌𝗈𝗇 𝖳𝗈𝖽𝖽'𝗌 𝖬𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍.

TOTAL WORKS: 4.

SPARKS FLY. Coming soon.

BABY. Jason adores you, but hates some of your taste in music, yet still sings those songs for you.

SOMETHING ELSE. You and Jason have known each other since you were little and have always been very close, attached at the hip, you feel more than a friendship for him, he feels the same but neither of you dares to say it out loud, let alone tell another, and that's where Gar and Rachel decide to step in.

'TIL DEATH DO US PART. Jason visits you in your apartment one day, after he died and revived.

CAN I HAVE THIS DANCE? He would always be there to fulfill your wishes. And if you wanted to dance in the rain then he would be the one to do it with you.

Make your requests right here or on the question box.

[literaryspinster]

Hi 👋 @literaryspinster bestie I’m so excited 😆 to read the next chapter of tiger 🐅 boy and witch girl soon 🔜

Aww, thank you so much! And sorry it's taking so long, stuff just keeps falling into my lap. But here's a preview to hold you over.

Dear Tim,

You have to come visit as soon as possible.

Being a part of Haly’s is a wonder, even better than I ever would have thought. 

Every day I get up with the sunrise to have breakfast with the team, then I help Eve and Dominic tend to the show horses and the rescues. After that I spend an hour or three shadowing Dominic as he prepares for his upcoming veterinary science exam, although really, it’s for my own good more than his. He already knows more than any doctor, even Eve thinks so and she is a doctor. I always thought I’d be one too someday, now I feel like it might actually happen before I’m 85. At Caulder's all they ever wanted me to do was shovel shit and starve, but these people make me feel like I have a chance to do more with my life.

Just the other morning I helped deliver a foal, I pulled her slimy squirmy hooves until she emerged from her mother in a braying heap and I watched as she stood up on four precarious legs, finding purchase on the hay scattered barn. We named her Buttercup because she’s as high yellow as her daddy, Kory’s words, not mine.

Rachel is doing better these days too, she’s not so frail as she was when I snatched her up from old man Adamson’s, and she’s finally getting caught up on her schooling. Kory’s always giving her novels and such, and she teaches her French while they sweep peanut shells or patch up costumes. Dick is teaching her calculations by letting her handle some of the books, with supervision of course. She never took to math much before but something about making it practical is making it stick. She’ll be ready for high school by the end of the summer. She thinks by then she’ll know how to make friends who aren't birds.

I teased her about it, asked her “what about me and Tim?” and she told me, without missing a beat “you’re family, it’s a big difference.” And she’s right, you know, we are family.

We’ll be in Pennsylvania for a month. Kory’s sister has a mansion there, with lots of land. You have to come, Tim, promise me you will. Rachel would be over the moon to see you and so would I.

With Love,

Gar.

He folds the letter in three and tucks it into a cream envelope, when they stop tomorrow he’ll drop it in the mail first thing. 

“Should I write Tim a letter too, you think?” Rachel asks.

“Have you not been?”

She gives a noncommittal shrug, “there’s never been anything good to say.”

Gar gets up from his bed and walks the three steps across the floor of the train car to take a seat next to Rachel. “You don’t only have to talk about nice things you know, what about when you would write to me?”

“You’re different.”

“How am I different?”

“I mean you’re the same, the same as me. You can’t get someone down when they’re already down.”

“Tim deals with more than you think. And I’m sure he’d love to hear from you.”

Rachel cracks a small smile, but there’s something hidden in it.

“Besides, things are looking up now, so you do have good things to say after all,” Gar pushes.

“I know, it’s just, aren’t you scared that it might not last, that it can’t?”

“No, I’m not worried about that. I don’t know why they’re so set on keeping us around, but they are, and I don’t see that changing. I know this sounds sort of mad, but I trust them.”

“It’s not that I don’t trust them Gar, I don’t trust the world.”

Gar is silent as he reaches for a sheet of paper and a pen to give Rachel. “Here, don’t worry about all of that, just write what you feel, okay?”

She takes it, biting back whatever argument threatens to emerge, and she makes eye contact with the black bird resting in a cage on the desk. “I guess there’s no point in asking if you could do it for me, is there, you big dumb bird?”

“You’re the big dumb bird,” the Raven responds, and Rachel finally laughs.

****

Dick didn’t take Rachel and Gar in to heal Kory, the thought didn’t even cross his mind. He took them in because it was the right thing to do, and because Kory would leave him faster than a door could swing shut if he turned them away. The man she married was not the sort of man who would deny those in need, not when he could afford to help them.

But the more time passes, the better Kory becomes. Having them to look after and protect has pushed her other troubles to the wayside at least for the time being. 

It wasn’t just a baby Kory wanted, she always understood that babies grew up faster than anything, and became people of their own. All Kory wants is to help these kids become the people they would have been if life hadn’t been so cruel to them. For as long as they’ll allow her to.

She doesn’t need to push, they accept her with open arms because they need so badly to cling to something that won’t fray and snap under their weight.

Is this what he wants? He’s asked himself twice or three times in the few weeks they’ve been in their care. Truthfully, since marrying Kory he’s only ever wanted what she wanted. But does he want this? Would he have simply sent them on their way with a hot meal and a few dollars had Kory not been there?

It’s perhaps a useless question, because they’re here and there doesn’t seem to be any signs of them taking their leave soon. 

But therein lies the problem, a problem they won’t be able to ignore for long. 

There’s a letter from Niles Caulder poking ominously from the center of the mail stack, its sharp corner threatening him like the tip of a knife. He’s read it a dozen times, hoping each time it’ll sound less like the roar of hellfire approaching. 

I know the boy and his beast are in your filthy clutches. If there wasn’t enough evidence that the fire was your doing before, there is now, expect the authorities to bust down your door any day now.

They’ll have to find them first, of course. They’re going on hiatus for a month before rolling into Cincinnati. In the meantime they’ll leave no signs anywhere, they won’t run off at the mouth to the papers, they’ll keep their heads in the present.

The train car vibrates along the tracks, coasting into the night. Tomorrow the worry will be less, it’ll have to be.

[only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are]

Day 16: Dizzy - Medi Whump May

Titans DC fanfic

Medi Whump May Masterlist

Dick doesn't know where he is when he wakes up.

He's somewhere cold, and brightly lit. It's so bright, it's hard to see. He lifts a hand up to shield his vision, and tries pull himself up with the other hand. As soon is his torso is upright, the world is spinning so violently he can't move. He blinks furiously. The dizziness doesn't clear, but it eases slightly. Dick puts a hand out and eventually finds a solid surface - a wall, hopefully - and uses it to pull himself slowly upright and on two feet. The room is tilting again. He groans, and puts both hands to his temples. He doesn't remember anything, and that simple fact makes his stomach churn with anxiety. Or maybe that's the room spinning.

He pulls himself forward with the help of the wall, slow going so as not to fall. He can't see any details of the space around him with his vision like this, so instead he focuses on what he can feel, smell, hear. Rough wall - drywall.

Garbage.

Silence.

A warehouse, maybe. Or a delivery dock.

Dick half crawls, half stumbles to the end of the hallway. As he tries to catch his breath and pull himself to his feet, he spots a blurred figure in the corner of his vision.

"Hello, Nightwing."

Dick Grayson is sent tumbling to the ground.

@mediwhumpmay

[foerchen]

Jason’s Titan’s Tower Attack AU

Bruce: *gets the notification of an attack 2 hours too late because of Hood’s hacking*

Bruce: *rushes to the Titan’s Tower, scared that Tim’s dead*

Bruce: *runs into the Tower’s living room and shouts with a breaking voice*

Bruce: Robin? ROBIN?! Where are you?!

Tim: *excitedly dashes into the room with a plate of cookies*

Tim: Look, B! We made cookies! Try them!

Bruce: *confused af, tries one*

Bruce: They… taste like Jason’s…

Bruce: *ready to burst into tears*

Tim: That’s because we made them together. Duh!

Jason: *waltzes in without helmet or mask but in full gear*

Jason: Well, Baby Bird, that’s it for today. Next bird sitting session will cost ya, old man!

Jason: *zetas away with a cheeky smirk*

Tim: Bruce, can I have another playdate with Jay?

Bruce: *Bruce.exe stopped working*

[jellofish-plant]

Proof of Existence

Pairing: Jason Todd (Red Hood) x Reader Summary: You were used to waiting up for Jason after patrol, but you weren’t expecting Robin to be the one to climb through your window instead. Damian Wayne is determined to prove that Jason was lying about having a girlfriend, and unfortunately, that means invading your apartment at an ungodly hour. Things only escalate when he calls in reinforcements, and by the time Jason actually arrives, he finds you in the middle of a full-blown Wayne family interrogation.

Warnings: Fluff, sleep deprivation, Batfamily chaos, Jason being grumpy but soft

[Masterlist]

You sighed, rubbing your eyes as you glanced at the clock. 2:37 AM.

Jason was late. Again.

You weren’t exactly worried he was Red Hood, after all but you hated waiting up for him, exhaustion pulling at your limbs while the city lights flickered outside your window.

You barely had time to close your eyes before you heard a rustling noise near the fire escape. Immediately alert, you tensed, but before you could reach for your phone, the window slid open.

A small, caped figure landed silently in your living room.

You blinked. “You’re not Jason.”

Damian Wayne Robin, Gotham’s tiniest menace straightened up, arms crossed over his chest as he scrutinized you with a critical gaze.

“So you are real,” he muttered.

You stared at him, still half-asleep. “Excuse me?”

Damian narrowed his eyes. “Todd claims he has a girlfriend. I assumed it was a delusion. But…” He took a step closer, inspecting you like a rare specimen. “You exist.”

“Uh… yeah?” you said slowly, watching as he started pacing around the apartment.

“This is unfortunate,” he muttered to himself.

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “It’s almost three in the morning, Damian. Did you break in just to confirm I’m not imaginary?”

“I could have waited for Todd to bring you to the Manor, but that would’ve taken forever.” Damian wandered over to the bookshelf, tilting his head as he scanned the titles. “Hmph. Your taste in literature is acceptable.”

“Oh, thank God, I was really losing sleep over that one,” you deadpanned.

Damian ignored you, already moving to your kitchen. He opened the fridge, scowled, then closed it again. “You don’t eat enough protein.”

You groaned, flopping onto the couch. “Jason is going to kill you when he finds out you’re here.”

“Tt. I doubt it.”

Unfortunately, before you could kick him out, he pulled a communicator from his belt.

“You’re not—”

Too late.

“Drake, come in. I have urgent news,” Damian said, voice completely serious.

There was a brief static crackle before a groggy voice responded. “Damian, it’s late. What could possibly—”

“She’s real.”

Silence.

Then—“No f**ing way.”*

You groaned loudly, covering your face with a pillow.

A few minutes later, your front door actually opened, this time with a key Tim Drake, still in his Red Robin suit but looking like he regretted every decision that led him here.

“Oh my God,” Tim breathed, staring at you like he’d just seen a ghost. “Jason actually has a girlfriend.”

“Why does everyone think I’m fake?” you demanded.

Tim grinned. “Because Jason refuses to let us meet you. Honestly, I thought you were just an excuse for him to leave family dinners early.”

Damian huffed. “As if Todd would be clever enough for that.”

You sighed. “Okay. Great. Mystery solved. You guys can leave now—”

Knock knock.

Oh, come on.

The door opened again, and in strolled none other than Dick Grayson—Nightwing himself—looking far too excited for this hour.

“Ohhhh, this is fantastic,” he said, beaming as he took in the scene. “We finally have proof! Jason’s not making it up!”

“I hate all of you,” you grumbled, pulling Jason’s discarded hoodie over your head as if that could make them all disappear.

“Are you being held against your will?” Dick asked, only half-joking.

“No, but I will commit a crime if you don’t let me sleep.”

Before Dick could respond, the window slammed open again.

“What the hell is going on?”

Jason stood on the fire escape, mask half-off, hair a mess, and murder in his eyes.

“Oh, hey, Jason,” Tim greeted casually. “Nice place.”

Jason’s eye twitched. “Are you—why—” He ran a hand down his face, exhaling sharply. “It is three in the goddamn morning.”

“Yes, I noticed,” you said dryly.

Jason turned to you, taking in the way you looked tired, wrapped in his hoodie, blanket half-falling off the couch. His jaw tightened. “Baby, why are you still up?”

You gestured vaguely to the three idiots in your apartment. “Ask them.”

Jason’s glare could’ve set the building on fire. “What the hell are you all doing here?”

“Confirming she’s real,” Damian said simply.

Jason groaned. “Are you kidding me? You—” He pointed at Damian. “Go home. You—” Now at Tim. “Stop enabling this. And you—” Dick raised his hands before Jason could finish.

“Relax, Jaybird,” Dick said, smirking. “We’re just excited to meet the girl you’ve been hiding.”

Jason pinched the bridge of his nose. “I hate all of you.”

“Are you two really dating?” a new voice cut through.

Stephanie Brown Batgirl was standing by the window now, her blonde hair messy from a night’s patrol. She crossed her arms, raising a brow at you. “I’m sorry, but I had to see for myself. I really thought it was just some weird ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ thing.”

“Oh my God,” you muttered, but you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips.

“I’m just here for the popcorn,” Duke Thomas The Signal grinned from the doorway, joining the chaos with his own brand of enthusiasm.

Jason stood frozen, arms crossed, looking like he was about to explode. “This is not happening.”

“Oh, it’s happening,” Dick teased, leaning in and nudging Jason. “You can’t hide her anymore.”

Jason groaned, rubbing his face. “I swear to God…”

“Jason, relax,” you said, trying to calm him down, but your voice still laced with amusement. “Your family’s just a little... excited.”

Jason turned to you, his expression softening just a little. “I’m sorry, baby.” He pulled you close, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “I didn’t expect them to turn up like this, but…” He shot his family one last glare before pulling you closer. “I think I need some alone time with my girlfriend now.”

Everyone groaned in unison.

“You know what, fine,” Tim sighed, pushing himself off the wall. “We’ve gotten the proof we need. No more interruptions. You two have a good night.”

“You guys are the worst,” you muttered, laughing as Jason huffed beside you.

And when they finally filed out, leaving you alone with Jason, you sank back into his arms, letting the chaos of the Batfamily fade into the background.

Jason chuckled softly, kissing the top of your head. “Well, at least they like you.”

You smirked. “Yeah, I think I’ve officially been inducted into the Batfamily now.”

Jason snorted. “They’ll never leave us alone again, will they?”

“Not unless we’re really convincing at family dinners,” you teased.

Jason sighed, but there was a fond look in his eyes. “Maybe we’ll make a run for it next time.”

You laughed softly. “Sounds like a plan.”

[cipheress-to-k-pop]

baby daddy (j.t.)

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Warnings: Some blood and stuff

Word Count: 7.1k

A/N: I'll be so honest, this was way better in my head lol my execution needs work because aint no way this is 7k words and im still not satisfied perhaps this would be best as a series? but tbh i dont think i can write much more than this

It's based on this post from @batbusiness-schooldropout

"Alright, who the hell snitched?"

Jason stormed into the Batcave, helmet tucked under his arm, pissed.

Tim barely looked up from the Batcomputer, "What are you talking about?"

Jason gestured wildly, "I just had a fun little run-in with a couple of GCPD officers who very politely informed me that I have an outstanding legal matter that needs my attention. Which is news to me because I don’t exactly file taxes or have jury duty, so what the hell are they trying to pull?"

Tim blinked, "You have a warrant?"

"That’s what I’m asking you!" Jason snapped.

Tim, now curious, spun back to the screen, "Alright, let’s check."

He typed in Red Hood and cross-checked it with Gotham’s legal system. A few minor infractions came up—nothing serious—but then…

There it was.

Tim frowned, "Huh."

Jason narrowed his eyes, "What?"

"It’s… not a warrant," Tim said slowly, "It’s a summons."

Jason crossed his arms, "For what?"

Tim clicked on the file. A scanned document popped up, the words 'LEGAL NOTICE' at the top.

"Looks like someone filed you as a legal guardian," Tim muttered, "Gotham’s courts have been trying to notify you for a while now. They probably flagged it to GCPD just to get it on your radar."

Jason scoffed, "Guardian? Of who?"

Tim clicked again, "A kid named Aria (L/N)."

Jason frowned, "That name means nothing to me."

Tim went still.

Jason’s stomach sank, "...What?"

Tim very slowly turned the screen toward him.

Jason stared.

Child’s Name: Aria (L/N) Mother: (Y/N) (L/N) Father: Red Hood

His brain just stopped working.

Dick, passing by with his coffee, glanced at the screen, "Oh, damn. Jay, you finally settling down?"

Jason whipped around to glare at him, "I don’t know this woman! I don’t have a kid!"

"Legally, you do." Tim pointed out.

Jason turned back to the screen, rubbing his temples, "Why is my life like this?"

Tim scrolled further, "Looks like the mother put your name down instead of the real father’s. And since Gotham courts don’t do DNA tests without permission from both parents… that guy got screwed out of custody."

Jason clenched his jaw, "And now they’re trying to find me because I’m on record as the dad."

Tim squinted at the file, then choked.

Jason looked at him warily, "...What?"

Tim covered his mouth, trying so hard not to laugh, "There's a comments section."

Jason leaned over his shoulder, eyes scanning the document. Then he saw it.

Additional Comments: "He kept the helmet on the whole time."

The Cave went dead silent.

Jason stared. Tim bit his lip. Dick was turning red trying not to lose it.

Then—

Tim wheezed.

Dick howled.

Jason smacked his forehead against the Batcomputer, "I hate everything."

He then exhaled sharply, cutting off his mental breakdown before muttering, "Okay. Fine. I’ll go find the mother and figure this out."

Dick snickered, "Tell Aria Daddy’s coming home."

Jason threw a batarang at him.

***

"Hi, honey, I'm home."

The distorted, robotic voice from his helmet made you freeze in place. Your pulse thundered in your ears, dread settling like a stone in your stomach. You knew exactly why the Red Hood was in your apartment.

You turned slowly, keeping your hands in sight as if that would make a difference, "Please, don't. My daughter is in the next room. She only has me."

"Don't you mean our daughter?" He bit out, sarcasm cutting through the voice modulator.

Despite whatever anger he held toward you, he hesitated, feeling pity. You must have looked terrified.

"I'm not here to hurt you," He said after a beat, "I just want an explanation."

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to stay calm, "Her father is an asshole. I couldn’t let him have any rights over her, so I wrote your name down on all her documents. Gotham has no way of verifying, so they just had to take my word for it."

You met his gaze, your voice steady despite the situation, "I’m sorry if I made things complicated for you, but this was the only way I knew to keep his hands off her."

Jason exhaled sharply, shifting his weight, "How long did you think this would go unnoticed?"

You hesitated before answering, "Well… 'our' daughter turned five last month, so I figured you weren't going to find out anytime soon. Guess I was wrong."

You knew of Red Hood. You knew what he stood for. No matter what, he would never hurt a child. Ever. And if the rumors about him were true, then he would realize that you had only been acting in Aria’s best interest.

He studied you, the lenses of his helmet unreadable, but you could feel the weight of his scrutiny. This was an invasion of privacy—probably illegal, even—but instead of anger, he seemed... intrigued. You weren’t what he expected. You were clever, maybe even reckless, but clearly devoted to your daughter.

And—if he was being honest—pretty. Definitely pretty.

"Why me?" He finally asked, "Why not any of the other Bats?"

You shrugged, "Of all of them, you seemed like the least likely for civil court to track down." That much was true—any time someone tried to drag Red Hood into Gotham’s legal system, he either ignored it or laughed in their face before firing a warning shot.

"You're also the scariest, aside from Batman. And I didn’t want him getting any ideas about recruiting Aria for his next child vigilante project once Robin retires again." You smirked, "Lastly, having a baby daddy without a no-kill rule seemed like a great way to keep that deadbeat asshole far, far away from us."

Jason flat-out laughed at that. The sound, even through the voice modulator, carried warmth.

"You make an excellent argument," He admitted.

You relaxed slightly, "I am sorry. If I knew it was going to bother you, I never would have done it."

He shrugged, completely unbothered, "Doesn’t bother me. You were doing right by your kid. I can respect that."

Relief washed over you, and you smiled. You didn’t push the conversation further—if he wanted to be taken off her documents, he’d ask.

Instead, he surprised you.

"Can I meet her?"

Your breath caught, "Who? Aria?"

"I mean, legally, she’s my kid, right? That means I have visitation rights."

Apprehension prickled at the edges of your mind. Had you just swapped out one danger for another? You had gone to great lengths to keep Aria safe from one man—had you unknowingly invited another into her life?

Jason seemed to sense your hesitation. "You can say no," He said, almost gently, "But I just found out I have a daughter today. I’d like to meet the girl who made you pull a stunt this reckless and brave."

You could say no. You probably should say no.

And yet, as you looked at the masked man standing in your too-small living room, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

"...Okay," You said at last, "But you might want to take off the mask. She scares easy."

Jason chuckled, low and amused. You half-expected him to refuse, to make some offhanded comment before declining the invitation and leaving, but instead, you heard the soft click as he unlocked his helmet and pulled it off.

Dark, slightly messy hair with a single white streak. Stormy blue eyes. Sharp cheekbones and full lips.

"Wow," You breathed before you could stop yourself.

He raised a brow.

You cleared your throat, cheeks warming, "I can see where our daughter gets her good looks from."

Jason snorted, shaking his head.

"Aria, honey!" You called, turning toward her room, "Come out for a second, please!"

The door creaked open, followed by the soft pitter-patter of tiny feet. Aria emerged in a pink tutu, a plastic wand in her hands, and a sparkly tiara perched on her head.

She blinked up at Jason with wide, curious eyes.

"This is Mommy’s friend, Red Hood," You told her, "He wanted to say hi."

Aria beamed, "Hi, Mr. Hood!" She grabbed the edges of her tutu and curtsied, just like the princesses in her favorite cartoons.

You glanced at Jason. His expression had softened, the barest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. For a man who had probably seen the worst the world had to offer, he looked completely in awe.

Jason, the Red Hood—the most terrifying name in Gotham’s underworld—cleared his throat, gripping his helmet a little tighter.

"Uh. Hi there." He said, voice definitely shaking.

You bit your lip, looking down to hide your smile.

This huge crime lord, who had probably seen more murders tonight than you had in your entire life, was nervous talking to a five-year-old.

Aria giggled, "You talk funny."

Jason blinked, "I do?"

She nodded, "Your voice is all rumbly! Like Batman!"

Jason made a very undignified sound, "I am nothing like Batman, princess."

Aria gasped dramatically, "You know Batman?!"

***

Jason didn’t know exactly how he ended up in this position.

After that first meeting with Aria, he’d been more than ready to let you both get back to your lives. You had only put his name down as Aria's father to scare off her real father; he had no place here.

And yet.

When he found himself alone in his apartment, staring at the ceiling, or in the rare moments of silence while working on cars, his mind drifted. He’d think about Aria—her wide, innocent eyes staring up at him, the way she had curtsied like a damn princess, completely unafraid of the man Gotham whispered about in fear.

An unfamiliar squeeze tugged at his heart.

He had a daughter.

And the more he thought about her, the more he wanted to protect her—to keep that innocence untouched, to make sure she was safe and happy. He wanted to be a father.

Then, inevitably, his thoughts turned to you.

You hadn't spoken for long, but somehow, you’d managed to stick in his mind. Despite it being the end of the day, exhaustion tugging at you, there had been a light in your eyes—something warm, something alive. He found himself drawn to it.

The confidence in your posture, the way you had no trouble meeting his eyes, the sheer sass you had thrown his way despite knowing exactly who he was. And above all, the love and protectiveness you had for Aria.

You were nothing like anyone he had ever met before.

A couple of days later, he found himself knocking at your door again.

He had told himself it was just to check on Aria after a Joker attack. That was reasonable, right? He had to make sure she was safe. That’s all it was.

You had offered him dinner. He declined.

Then, a couple of days after that, he found himself there again—this time after a Poison Ivy incident.

You offered him dinner again.

This time, he obliged.

That night, he sat at your dinner table with you and Aria, listening as she excitedly told him about school. He learned about your job, about the little details of your life, and—much to his amusement—was introduced to what Aria called the greatest meal in the entire world.

Hello Kitty-shaped pasta.

He raised a brow at you.

You shrugged, "It’s expensive, but it makes her happy."

Jason huffed a small laugh, "What’s the special occasion?"

Aria beamed, practically vibrating in her seat.

"I got made line leader today!" She announced proudly.

You glanced at her with a mix of amusement and pride, eyes warm, "It’s a big deal."

Jason turned to Aria, his chest tightening at the way she puffed herself up with pride. Without thinking, he reached out and ruffled her hair like it was second nature.

"Good job, princess," He murmured.

Her entire face lit up.

And just like that, Jason Todd was done for.

It had been two months since Jason first met the both of you, and now, sitting at the dinner table, he was experiencing his first real parental crisis.

It was obvious that Aria was in a bad mood.

She barely touched her food, half-heartedly pushing it around her plate. Even when you suggested ordering takeout—usually a foolproof way to lift her spirits—she just shook her head. You and Jason exchanged a concerned glance over her head.

Something was clearly wrong.

You sighed, resigning yourself to the hope that she’d tell you before bed or at least over breakfast tomorrow.

"I'm just gonna go take a shower, do you mind?" You asked, gesturing toward Aria.

Jason didn’t hesitate before nodding.

You smiled gratefully, pressing a kiss to Aria’s crown before leaning over and doing the same to Jason.

A month ago, that would’ve made him jump out of his skin. Now, after two months of shared dinners—some planned, others happening more naturally—he only sat there, heart racing in his chest, pretending that wasn’t the highlight of his day.

When he heard the shower turn on, he turned to Aria with a mischievous grin.

"Okay, Mom’s in the shower. What do you say to ice cream for dinner?"

Jason liked to pretend you had no idea whenever he and Aria snuck ice cream together. But ever since he convinced you to let him make homemade ice cream with protein shakes and sneaky healthy ingredients, you had stopped putting up much of a fight. Besides, he wasn’t exactly subtle. If he didn’t outright tell you, the dirty dishes in the sink were more than enough of a giveaway.

More than anything, though, he just wanted Aria to eat something.

But tonight, instead of the excited little gasp she usually gave, Aria just frowned.

"Mommy doesn’t like that."

"Princess," He said more gently, shifting in his seat, "is something wrong? You love ice cream. And Mom made one of your favorites tonight, but you’re not eating, and…" His voice softened, "That makes me sad."

Aria hesitated for a few seconds before pushing her plate away and sliding off her chair. Jason tensed, heart thudding slightly faster. Shit, did I upset her? Is she about to cry?

But she didn’t.

Instead, she ran off, returning moments later with her pink Barbie backpack. She unzipped it and rifled through its contents before pulling out a slightly crumpled piece of paper and handing it to him.

Jason smoothed the paper out.

And felt his stomach drop.

Daddy-Daughter Day!

"My teacher told us to give it to our parents," Aria said quietly, her lip trembling, "So our daddies can come visit one day."

She fidgeted, looking down at her hands.

"But… I don’t have a daddy."

And just like that, Jason Todd’s heart broke in two.

***

When you came out of the shower, towel-drying your hair and now dressed in your pajamas, you immediately looked around for Aria.

"She didn’t really want to eat, so I just put her to bed," Jason informed you.

You sighed, sinking into a chair at the dining table, "Do you think I should call her teacher tomorrow and ask if something happened? Maybe someone was being mean to her at school?"

Wordlessly, Jason slid a folded piece of paper across the table toward you. You furrowed your brows and picked it up, unfolding it to read.

Your face immediately darkened.

"This can’t be right!" You hissed, voice sharp with anger. "I thought schools had outfashioned practices like this! What happened to inclusivity and all that crap? What about kids with two moms? Or no parents at all? I’m calling up the school. I’m gonna be a full-blown Karen. I’m gonna—"

"(Y/N)—"

"No, Jason, this isn’t okay!"

Despite your fury, you kept your voice down for Aria’s sake. Jason wasn’t sure if you were about to explode or just strain your vocal cords with your whispered screams. But then, just as suddenly as your anger had flared, you seemed to fizzle out.

You slumped back into your chair, rubbing your face with trembling hands.

"I’ve done everything I can to make sure Aria never feels the absence of a father," You murmured.

"I’ve tried. I’ve—" Your voice cracked.

You let out a shaky breath and shielded your face with your hands, "My poor baby. I can’t believe she held onto this all day without telling me."

Jason think twice before he pulled you into his arms, letting you rest your head against his neck as you composed yourself.

After a moment, he spoke, "Look, I know it might not be the same, but… I was thinking. What if I attended the event with Aria?"

You stiffened, then slowly pulled back, meeting his eyes. Your expression wasn’t hopeful—it was guarded.

Jason’s stomach soured.

"Jay, I know we’ve been having a good time lately, but you can’t do that to Aria," You said, shaking your head, "If you go to this event as her dad, she’s going to see you as that. And you can’t—you can’t do that to her."

Jason swallowed hard. His voice was quieter when he asked, "What if I wanted to? To be seen as her dad? Would that really be so terrible?"

You didn’t answer.

You just stood up from the table and walked away.

Jason almost would have laughed at how much you resembled Aria in that moment if he didn't feel his stomach sinking to his feet.

But just like Aria, you also came back.

Clutched in your hands was a camera. You placed it in front of him, watching as he stared at you with unsure eyes.

"I record all of Aria’s school events," You said softly. "Don’t miss a second of it."

Jason blinked. Then, slowly, a grin spread across his face.

Before you could react, he grabbed you and twirled you around the kitchen.

You let out a surprised squeal before bursting into giggles, clinging onto his shoulders. But then, realization hit.

You were definitely not wearing a bra.

Your giggles faded, and Jason froze as well, both of you suddenly very aware of how close you were. You stared at each other, identical blushes creeping up your cheeks.

You cleared your throat.

"You can—um—you can put me down now."

***

It was almost comical how small the classroom was.

Jason had to duck his head to step inside, barely squeezing through the low doorframe. The room was packed—about fifteen other dads crammed into tiny plastic chairs that looked like they could barely support one ass cheek. Jason didn’t even bother trying. Instead, he just lowered himself to the floor, crossing his legs as he settled in.

The dads around him nodded politely as they all waited for the teachers to finish setting up and taking attendance.

"I don’t think I’ve seen you around before," A man beside him said, shifting his son in his lap, "I’m David."

"Jason," He replied, shaking his hand with a firm but polite grip.

"This is Harry," David continued, gesturing to the little boy who peeked up at Jason shyly before quickly burying his face in his dad’s shirt. Jason chuckled.

"So, which one’s yours?"

Jason glanced across the room, "Over there, in the book corner."

David followed his gaze. In the far corner, a little girl in denim dungarees rifled through a stack of picture books with a very serious expression, clearly determined to find a specific one. Jason had picked out her outfit today—he’d even let her wear the tiara she refused to take off, despite your insistence that it was an inside toy.

No doubt, she was making a mess that her poor teacher would have to clean up later.

David frowned, "Who?"

"The one with the tiara," Jason said.

David's confusion deepened, "Aria?"

Jason’s brows furrowed, "Yeah."

"Aria (L/N)?"

"Yes."

David blinked, "I—I didn’t know you were—I thought (Y/N) was single."

Jason’s expression darkened. A phantom of a scowl flickered across his face before he forced himself to relax. He wasn’t about to scare off the other parents at an event that was supposed to be important for Aria.

"She isn’t," He said simply.

David paled, "Oh. Uh—sorry." He quickly bowed his head, clearly embarrassed.

Jason smirked, barely hiding his haughty attitude. So what if he told a little white lie? It wouldn’t do any harm for Dave—or Dan, or whatever his name was—to keep his sights off you.

Really, you deserved better than some average, boring guy who probably filed his taxes early and grilled chicken without seasoning. Someone like that wouldn’t know how to handle you. He wouldn’t know how to make you laugh when you were stressed, wouldn’t know how to handle your sass, wouldn’t know how to love you the way you deserved.

No, you needed someone confident. Someone strong. Someone who could protect you and Aria. Someone with a soft side, sure, but also someone who wasn’t afraid to fight for you. Someone who would go to hell and back if it meant keeping you both safe.

Someone like…

Oh.

Jason's smirk faltered for half a second before he recovered, clearing his throat and forcing himself to focus on Aria, who was still knee-deep in her book hunt.

Well. That was something to unpack later.

***

"Now, all together, everyone! On the count of three—one, two, three!" the teacher announced cheerfully.

A chorus of tiny voices rang out.

"I love you, Dad!"

It was loud, chaotic, a jumble of high-pitched shouts that somehow blended into something warm and sweet. Parents chuckled, kids giggled, the room filled with laughter and joy.

But Jason’s heart sank.

While the other kids beamed up at their fathers, Aria clutched the handmade card in tight fists, her knuckles white. She kept her head down, lip wobbling, shoulders trembling as she struggled to say the words.

Jason knelt in front of her, his heart twisting. God, she’s so small. Both of her tiny hands barely covered his palm as he gently took them in his own.

"You don’t have to say it if you don’t want to, Aria," He told her softly, "I’m not going to force you to do anything. Just know that I love you very much, princess. That’s enough for me."

She finally looked up at him, somehow seeming even smaller despite the fact that he was kneeling. Her big, glassy doe eyes searched his face.

"You really love me?" She asked in the quietest whisper.

"More than anything, baby."

The words slipped out before he could stop them, before he could think about the weight they carried. About what it might mean for a little girl who had spent her whole life without a father.

For a moment, she just stared at him. Jason barely had time to register the emotion in her eyes before she launched herself at him, tiny arms wrapping tightly around his neck. She burrowed against him, her small frame pressing against his chest as she whispered into his ear—

"I love you, Daddy."

Jason felt his breath catch in his throat.

Oh. Oh.

He squeezed her tighter, pressing his face into her soft curls, "I love you too, princess," He murmured, voice thick with something he wasn’t ready to name.

And for the first time in a long time, Jason Todd felt like he belonged.

***

Aria had been absolutely beaming after Daddy-Daughter Day, her excitement carrying her through the evening—especially since Jason had taken her to the park afterward. She had barely managed to get through telling you about her day, slurring her words sleepily as you tucked her into bed.

You pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, smoothing down her hair before stepping away, only to find Jason waiting for you in the doorway.

You smiled at him, reaching for his hand and leading him back to the living room. Without a word, you poured him a glass of wine, knowing that, even though he wouldn’t admit it, the day at her kindergarten had probably exhausted him. The proof was in the way he let out an almost comically heavy sigh the second he sank onto the couch.

You settled beside him, resting your head on his shoulder like it belonged there, both of you staring at the very much off television in comfortable silence.

“She has a lot of energy, doesn’t she?” You murmured, amused.

Jason huffed out a laugh, “Yeah. I like to think I’m somewhat athletic, but Aria put me to shame today.”

You smiled, tilting your head slightly to look up at him, “Thanks for going today. It meant a lot to her. And to me, too.”

There was a beat of silence before Jason reached for your hand, his fingers threading through yours like second nature. His grip was warm, grounding.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

***

Living in Gotham, you considered yourself one of the lucky ones.

Sure, you weren’t immune to the constant calamities that plagued the city, but you had managed to avoid being caught in the worst of them. Your bank had never been robbed while you were there. You had never been held hostage. You were one of the few people left who had never fallen victim to Joker venom.

Sure, your house had been broken into before—before Aria—but you were never home when it happened.

Really, you should’ve known your luck was going to run out eventually.

You had gotten too comfortable with Jason’s late-night visits, so when the knock came at your door, you didn’t even hesitate. You didn’t check the peephole. You didn’t ask who it was. You just…opened it.

Rookie mistake.

The man standing on the other side was a stranger. Tall. Built. And he made no effort to conceal the gun in his pocket.

Your blood went cold.

A smirk curled at his lips, sending goosebumps crawling up your skin. Your throat tightened.

“Hello, sweetheart. Did your baby daddy stop by?”

Your voice barely came out, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The man tsked, stepping forward, making you instinctively press yourself against the doorframe.

“Now, now. Don’t lie,” He murmured, “It won’t end well for you—or the little runt back there.”

Your heart stopped.

Aria.

Terror clawed at your chest, your breath shuddering. Tears burned your eyes.

“Please,” You whispered, “Don’t hurt her. She’s just a child.”

“The child of the infamous Red Hood.” He tilted his head mockingly, “You can’t possibly think that means nothing.”

You shook your head violently, “She doesn’t know anything. I don’t know anything. Please.”

Your hands were iron on the doorknob, but it meant nothing.

With a single sharp shove, he flung the door open.

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

***

Jason had been having a good night.

He had just finished his patrol and was on his way to your place, eager to see you and Aria. Maybe he’d bring her some hot chocolate, tuck her into bed, and spend the rest of the night with you, pretending—for just a little while—that the world outside didn’t exist.

Then he saw the door.

Wide open.

His blood ran cold.

Jason didn’t think—he moved. Gun drawn, he stormed inside, heart hammering against his ribs like a caged animal. The second he stepped into the apartment, his stomach dropped.

The place was trashed.

Aria’s toys were scattered across the floor, your coffee table overturned, and the framed pictures on the wall had been knocked down, the glass shattered.

There had been a struggle.

Jason’s throat tightened as his eyes landed on a streak of blood smeared across the hardwood floor.

His world tilted.

No. No, no, no, NO.

His hands shook, but his grip on his gun only tightened. His pulse was pounding in his ears, deafening, drowning out everything but the rage that ignited in his chest like an explosion.

His vision blurred with fury.

Someone took you. Someone took Aria.

His family.

Jason turned sharply and stormed out of the apartment, his movements lethal and precise. He going to hunt down the bastards who thought they could take his girls and live to tell the tale.

They were going to pay.

***

"I need you to find two missing people."

That was the first thing out of Jason’s mouth the second he entered the cave. His urgency didn’t seem apparent enough to anyone, judging by the way Dick and Bruce didn’t even look up from sparring.

Tim, who didn’t bother glancing away from the Batcomputer, simply asked, “Who?”

“(Y/N) and Aria (L/N).”

At this, Dick perked up, “Your fake baby mama and kid? She might not be missing, Little Wing. Maybe she’s just at Superman’s baby shower.”

Dick wasn’t expecting boisterous laughter, but at least a huff of breath or a chuckle would have been appreciated. Instead, he suddenly found himself grabbed by the collar, yanked forward until he was forced to look Jason in the eye.

Jason’s expression was thunderous—fury on the surface, but something even more unsettling lurked underneath.

“The mother of my child and my daughter are missing, and you want to make jokes?”

Dick raised a brow, forcing himself to stay calm, “I thought you didn’t know them?”

Jason’s grip tightened for a second before he let go, stepping back. His voice was low, unwavering.

“I do now.”

***

The world felt like it was spinning in slow motion. Every breath was a struggle, your head pounding from the blow you’d taken earlier, your body screaming in pain with every movement. You tried to focus, tried to tell yourself it was going to be okay—that Aria was okay—but you weren’t okay.

You had been firm in your resolve, refusing to reveal anything about the Red Hood, willing to die on the hill that you knew nothing. But you didn’t know how much longer you could keep it up. So far, they had only hurt you—because when they had turned to Aria, demanding answers, she had wailed and sobbed until she peed herself. The memory made tears well in your eyes.

Your poor girl might walk out of this untouched, but she wouldn’t leave unscathed. This would haunt her for years to come.

And you knew—the second they turned back toward her, the second they so much as raised a hand in her direction—you would break. It didn’t matter how much you loved Jason. You couldn’t, wouldn’t, ever put anyone above Aria’s safety.

Her terrified little eyes stayed locked on you, watching as a trail of blood ran down the side of your face.

Then the door slammed open.

The sound echoed in the empty space, sharp and deafening. Your body tensed, your breath catching in your throat. The man holding you captive turned toward the entrance, a sneer curling his lips.

“Well, well,” He drawled, his voice sickeningly amused. “Looks like Daddy's finally joined us for the party.”

Your heart leaped in your chest. But you couldn’t show it. Not when Aria was still in danger.

With the momentary distraction, she crawled into your lap, and despite the blinding pain searing through your body, you pulled her in. She trembled against you, clutching onto you as if her life depended on it—and in a way, it did. You shielded her, wrapping your arms around her tiny frame, covering her eyes with your bloody hand.

You whispered sweet nothings into her ear, pressing weak kisses to her temple, hoping—praying—that it would be enough to comfort her.

Then came the first gunshot.

You didn’t dare look. You knew what was happening. You could hear it in the crack of bone, the dull thuds of bodies hitting the floor, the sharp gasps of dying men. Jason was swift. Merciless. Tearing through the people who had dared to lay a hand on you and his daughter.

He was here.

He was going to save you.

Another body collapsed nearby, and your breath hitched. You felt yourself slipping, your limbs numb, your eyelids growing heavier by the second.

Then, his voice cut through the haze—low and desperate, but still gentle.

“Sweetheart?”

You wanted to look up at him, to reach for him, but your body was betraying you. Your vision blurred, the pain making it impossible to move.

His hand cupped your face, his warmth seeping into your skin, grounding you. You tried to focus on that, tried to hold on.

“Talk to me, baby,” He murmured, his voice tight with worry.

But you couldn’t. You could barely breathe. The only thing keeping you tethered to consciousness was the familiar scent of leather and gunpowder—the scent of Jason, of safety, of home.

You felt him shift, carefully lifting you into his arms, cradling you like you were the most precious thing in the world. You instinctively leaned into him, letting his presence surround you.

Aria clung to him just as tightly, her tiny voice muffled against his chest.

“Daddy!”

Despite everything, despite the agony consuming your body, your heart swelled at hearing her call him that. When had she started calling him Dad?

Then Jason’s fingers brushed against your cheek, his thumb wiping away a stray tear you hadn’t realized had fallen. His voice was softer now, almost breaking.

“Stay with me, sweetheart.”

You forced your eyes open, locking onto his—those intense, unwavering blue eyes that had pinned you to your place the first time you had met in your apartment.

That day you had been apprehensive at best when he had asked to meet Aria, second guessing every choice you made but in the end choosing to follow your gut when it said it had a good feeling about him.

Now, you were sure of it.

“Jason,” You rasped, barely above a whisper. His head snapped down toward you instantly, his grip tightening as if he were afraid you might slip through his fingers.

“I need you to promise me something,” You murmured, your breath shallow, your chest tight.

His brows furrowed. “Anything,” He said, but the hesitance in his voice told you he already knew where this was going.

“I need you to promise…” You swallowed thickly, forcing yourself to keep going, “If something happens to me… you’ll take care of Aria. Promise me, Jay.”

He froze.

For the first time since he’d stormed in, tearing through your captors like an avenging angel, he looked terrified.

His lips parted, but no words came out. You could see the battle raging inside him—the part of him that refused to believe he could lose you and the part that was too afraid not to make that promise.

“Don’t you dare say that,” He finally whispered, voice trembling, “I’m not losing you. I won’t—”

“Promise me,” You urged. You barely had the strength to grip his jacket, but you pulled weakly at the fabric anyway, needing him to understand.

His eyes glistened with unshed tears, his breath coming out in uneven bursts. But he wasn’t crying. Not yet.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he swallowed hard and nodded.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” He swore, his voice breaking. “I won’t let her grow up without you. I promise.”

The relief that washed over you was instant. Even as your vision darkened at the edges, even as your body started to give out, you felt… safe. At peace.

With your last burst of strength, you reached for Aria’s tiny hand, wrapping it in your weak grasp. You gave her a faint squeeze, managing the smallest of smiles.

“I love you,” You whispered, barely loud enough to be heard, “Both of you.”

Jason's breath hitched. His grip around you tightened, as if he could physically keep you here, tethered to him, to Aria, to the life he couldn't bear to lose.

“No, no, sweetheart—stay with me," He pleaded, his voice cracking, raw with panic. He pressed his forehead against yours, his breath shaky, "You don’t get to say that like it’s the last time. You don’t—Please (Y/N)—" His voice broke completely, and for the first time in a long time, Jason Todd was afraid.

Because he knew what loss felt like. Knew it too well.

And he couldn't—wouldn't—survive losing you too.

Aria let out a whimper, squeezing your fingers with her tiny hand. "Mommy?" Her voice was so small, so scared, and it shattered something inside him.

He shifted you in his arms, holding you closer, keeping you upright even though your body was limp.

“I love you too, sweetheart," he whispered, but the words felt hollow, like a plea rather than a promise.

Aria began to sob loudly, little hands grabbing at your sleeve, trying to shake you awake, “Mommy, wake up! Please!”

Her wails were raw, desperate, but Jason had to hold her back, had to keep her from accidentally hurting you any further. His grip on her was gentle but firm, even as his own body trembled with barely restrained terror.

He buried his face in her hair, biting back the sob threatening to claw its way out of his throat. He held you tighter, as if he could physically keep your soul tethered to him, as if just holding you close would stop the light from fading from your eyes.

He had never felt this helpless.

Jason Todd, the Red Hood, the man who had clawed his way back from the grave, who had survived horrors most people couldn’t even imagine—he was useless when it mattered most.

He was holding the broken pieces of this family.

A family that had been good, that had been safe before he came into the picture. A family that had welcomed him with open arms, treated him as though he had never been missing in the first place.

And what had he done in return?

He had ruined it.

He had brought his war, his bloodstained hands, his cursed existence into your lives, and now you were paying the price for it.

If he had never been selfish enough to stay, to want this, to think—even for a second—that he could have something good, that he could deserve you, this never would have happened.

This was his fault.

It was always his fault.

His mother’s betrayal. His death. His resurrection. The people he killed. The people he couldn’t save.

And now you.

Jason clenched his jaw, his breath coming out in ragged, uneven gasps. His heart slammed against his ribs as guilt and fury warred inside him. His hands, hands that had broken men, hands that had torn Gotham’s underworld apart, could do nothing but hold onto the only two people in the world who had ever made him feel like he was worth something.

But what was he worth now?

What good was he if he couldn’t even protect the people he loved?

Jason let out a shaking breath, pressing a kiss to Aria’s head, squeezing his eyes shut as he whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

He never should have stayed.

***

Jason kept his head down as he exited your hospital room, feeling his heart break under the weight of his own resolve—to stay away from both of you.

He spotted his father waiting at the reception, handling the paperwork and payment. As much as Jason felt like the lowest he had ever been and didn’t want anyone to see him like this, he was a little relieved. At least Bruce was here. At least he could leave knowing you were taken care of. He could go home, lock himself in his apartment, and spend the next few weeks trying to forget you. Trying to convince himself that he had been an idiot for ever thinking he had a place in your family.

Because thanks to him, your family had almost been destroyed.

With his head down, he walked up to Bruce, hands stuffed in his pockets. His father gave him a sympathetic pat on the back, but Jason didn’t want to talk. If he opened his mouth now, if he let himself breathe wrong, he knew the lump in his throat would break, and the tears would come pouring out.

"Daddy!"

The sound of Aria’s voice snapped his head up just in time for her to crash into him, her tiny arms wrapping around his neck in a desperate grip. Before he could even think, he was holding her, hugging her tight, feeling her little body shake.

"Daddy, don’t leave! Mommy and I need you! Please don’t go!"

Jason looked at her tear-streaked face and felt something deep inside himself crack. He beat himself up for even considering walking away. How could he? How could he leave while you were still lying in a hospital bed? How could he abandon Aria when she needed him most?

His baby girl.

She needed him. And the truth was—he needed her just as much. He needed both of you.

Right then and there, he made a promise to himself. He would protect you both more than anything. He would love you both more than anything. And he would stop at nothing to make sure you were happy and safe.

Pressing his nose against Aria’s wet cheek, he kissed away her tears, "I’m not going anywhere, princess. Daddy’s not going anywhere."

He stole a glance at Bruce, who gave him a small smile and a nod. With a steadier heart, he carried Aria back to your hospital room.

The second she saw you, Aria gasped, "Mommy!"

You gave Jason a tired smile from your place on the bed, the cut on your lip making it painful to do so, but you still reached out for his hand.

"I thought you would’ve left, wallowing in your guilt. Your masochistic streak and all that," You teased softly.

Jason let out a shaky breath, giving you a glassy-eyed smile before pressing another kiss to Aria’s temple.

"Our girl knows how to keep me grounded."

You grinned at that, exhaustion clear in your features but warmth shining in your eyes.

"She’s her father’s daughter, alright."

***

State of New Jersey Department of Family and Child Services Official Adoption Certificate

This document certifies that on 17/03/2025, Jason Peter Todd has legally adopted Aria (L/N), hereafter known as Aria Todd, and is recognized as her father with all parental rights and responsibilities.

Adoptive Parent: Jason Peter Todd Child’s Name (Amended): Aria Todd Birth Mother: (Y/N) Todd Previous Father Listed: Red Hood (Alias) — Amended

Additional Comments: "I’m not the stepdad. I’m the dad who stepped up." — Jason Todd

***

Forever Taglist:

@simonsbluee

@notslaybabes

@superheroesaremyjam113263

@writers-whirlwind

DC Taglist:

@tchatso

@p--e--a--c--h--e--s

@sometimeseverythingsucks

@sokkas-honour

@unstable1902

@lostgirlheart

@missdisapear

@tadpole-san

@isawachickeninatree

@uxavity

@battlenix

@capricorn-stark

@evermoore580

@dumbbitchgalore

@fuckingjinkies

@some-lovely-day

@that-one-fangirl69

@el-hrts

[midnightstar-90]

𝔻𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕞𝕤 & ℂ𝕦𝕕𝕕𝕝𝕖𝕤

Garfield Logan x Platonic! Reader

Taglist | Request | Wattpad

Main Masterlist | DC Comics Masterlist

Summary: Gar is an underestimated member of the Titans, and after recent events, he really needed someone.

Warnings: Nothing but Sad Gar and angst

A/N: This is set between the end of season 2 and the beginning of season 1.

Words: 1.9K

Out of all the Titans, Y/N was the quietest. She kept to herself most of the time and tried to stay out of everyone’s way.  But that didn’t stop her from observing the people around you.

She was hypervigilant and saw through all the crap that the Titans told each other. Like how Dick tried to see past his horrible childhood and refuses to believe that he reflects that on the other people in the tower. Or how Kory is such a badass on the outside, but on the inside she was struggling to find herself. But one of the most difficult things for her to watch was the number of times they put their needs before Gar’s, but he was always there for him.

It hurt the girl to watch them do that to the poor boy, so she took it upon herself to come to his aid. It hadn’t been long since C.A.D.M.U.S Labs basically kidnapped Gar and Conner from the tower and forced them to do their bidding. It took a lot out of Gar, especially with the loss of Donna that same night. Everyone was upset with Donna’s passing, but none of them paid attention to Gar or Conner’s feelings. They too had suffered a tremendous amount.

Y/N could hear Gar, at night, crying through the walls. He grew distant from the Titans, keeping to himself mostly. And not once did a single person try to do something about it.

The girl sat on the couch, listening to some classical music through her headphones as she randomly drew using her sketch pad. Classical music somehow brought out an artistic side to her. It was something she learned with Dick. Out of nowhere, a blank-faced Gar stormed into the large room, and into the kitchen. 

Seeing this, Y/N removed the headphones from her ears and placed them around her neck. She moved her art supplies from off her lap and uncurled herself from her crisscross position. She stood, walking over to a clearly upset Gar, as he aggressively pulled out a box of cereal, practically slamming it onto the counter.

“Are you okay, Gar?” Y/N asked, concerned for her friend who once again slammed a bowl on the counter, next to the cereal.

“Is that classical music?” Gar asked, glaring up at the girl. His head twitched and his eyes turned green. Y/N took that as a sign of hostility, but she wasn’t scared.

She nodded, “Yes. It helps me focus.” Gar was not happy with the music that was blasting through her headphones. “Well, turn it off,” he barked as he went to grab some milk. She respectfully obeyed Gar's orders, turning her headphones off, so no one could hear the music.

What’s wrong with you, Mr. grumpy,” Y/N joked, keeping a curious eye on the green haired boy. 

Looking up at the ceiling, he rubbed his face, letting out a loud groan. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he sighed, now looking the girl straight in the eye.

Y/N nodded her head, giving the boy a sad smile. “Well, if you need anything, I’m here.” Her loving tone seeped through the boy’s ears as a warm fuzzy feeling rushed through his body. A small smile appeared on Gar’s face as nodded and went back to making his food.

Y/N gave the boy one last look before collecting her stuff and leaving the room entirely. ‘If he wants to talk to me, I won’t force him. Just let him come to you, Y/N,’ Y/N thought to herself as she exited the room. Leaving the boy alone.

Gar watched the girl’s movement and contemplated her words. It was something he rarely heard unless it was him trying to help his friends. It felt nice to know there was someone willing to help him.

Later that night, Gar stood in Y/N’s door frame, watching as she made her bed, tucking in her sheets and covers, for that perfect hold on her as she slept. He knocked on the wooden door, catching the attention of the young girl. Her head flew up, breaking her concentration from her bed, and a warm smile appeared when she saw the boy standing in her doorway.

“Hey,” She spoke, in a cheerful manner. Gar didn’t smile back. The girl frowned, sensing something wrong. The boy stepped closer to the girl, allowing her to see the dried-up tears that ran down Gar’s face.

“Gar?” She asked, concerned for the boy. He didn’t speak. He, instead, walked over to the girl, making her jump slightly as he pulled her into an unexpected hug. She quickly wrapped her arms around him, patting his back.

“Gar, what’s wrong? You’re scaring me,” She spoke, hearing small sobs against her back. “Can I sleep in here?” The boy asked quietly. Y/N stayed quiet, feeling the vibration as Gar cried into her neck. 

She had a feeling she knew why the boy wanted to stay with her for the night. She felt her face warm up as she tried to imagine what the boy was going through. A tear ran down her face as she nodded. "Y-yeah, you can stay tonight," she stuttered.

Gar pulled back from her, wiping the tears, not wanting Y/N to see him cry, but she already saw everything. She saw the broken boy ages ago, it wasn’t until now that she saw how broken he really was.

Placing her hand on his back, she led him over to the right side of the bed, pulling out the cover to allow him to lie down. He did as intended before the girl went over to the other side, crawling in next to him. 

She turned off the light, and just lay with her back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Gar lay on his side, watching the dark shadow of her door. His mind wandered as he began to remember what it was like to not be in control. To be in the dark. He remembered the people he killed, and how C.A.D.M.U.S had hurt him. He remembered the pain he felt from the time he was taken from the tower to the time Rachel had released him from the mind prison he was forced into.

Y/N heard the familiar cries. Those similar to the ones she would hear through the walls. Gar sniffled as two arms wrapped around his figure, pulling him into their embrace. He relaxed, knowing it was Y/N comforting him.

“I’m sorry for snapping earlier,” Gar mumbled through his tears.

Y/N tilted her head as she looked down at the boy, calmly playing with his hair. It was something her mother had done when she was upset. She smiled and said, “It’s fine Gar. You went through some pretty traumatic stuff. We all have times when we’re scared to open up. No one blames you.”

“No, I shouldn’t have gotten mad like that.” Gar went quiet as he tried to muster up the courage to say what he needed to. “It’s just that… Classical music is what C.A.D.M.U.S used to brainwash me. Obviously, you didn't know that, and therefore it was wrong for me to get upset.”

Y/N felt guilty. She didn’t know any of that. Her breath hitched at the thought of all the things C.A.D.M.U.S did to the teenage boy in her arms. The torture. The mental and physical pain that he went through, watching as he uncontrollably killed many people, both innocent and guilty. She was sympathetic toward the boy, and it hurt, even more, to see that no one else cared as much as Y/N did.

“When I sleep, I hear their screams. I could hear the sound of myself clawing and biting into innocent people. Children running scared in fright. I never wanted that for myself or anyone for that matter.”

Y/N rubs his back in a comforting way, staring blankly at a wall as she listens to Gar’s words. “I wake up, and my pillow is soaked. I cry in my sleep. And every night, it’s the same thing. Sometimes during the day, I can hear them. Their pleas for me to stop. Their cries for help. I feel so disoriented nowadays.”

Y/N kisses Gar’s forehead and quietly says, “You just need a little guidance. And I may not know exactly what you’re going through, but everyone has been through some life-changing stuff, no matter how hard they push it down. Me…” she said pointing at herself, even though she knew Gar couldn’t see her. “I’ve always been in the background. Always listening. Always watching. And even though I’m able to live in the background, I still get lonely. It feels as though I know everyone else's struggles, but no one knows mine. And that’s where me and you are the same. You work so hard to make everyone else happy, but you don’t make time to make yourself happy… at least, not in the way you want to be happy.”

He silently cried into the girl’s pillow, taking it all in, listening to every word the girl spoke as if it were a scripture in a holy text. He thought about what she was saying, and he realized that he was right. He had been there to pick everyone else up, but who would be there to pick him up. 

He then remembered what Y/N had said about herself, only for him to realize that he had never noticed the girl at all. He didn’t really know anything about the girl holding him in her arms. 

‘Who is this girl?’ Gar questioned himself before sitting up, forcing himself out of the girl’s arms so that he could actually look at her. But when Gar turned to get a better look, everything around him changed. He wasn’t in Y/N’s bed anymore. He was on his own. And instead of the moonlight seeping through the curtains, the sun's bright beams of light blinded him. He looked down at where the girl once was, but she was nowhere to be found.

Gar stood from his bed, resting his feet on the floor below him. He readjusted his nightshirt before leaving his room. The green-haired boy looked left and right, both curious and confused about what was going on.

He walked through the tower to get to the living room, and he looked at the couch where Gar remembered the girl once sat. Behind him, Dick walked into the room, giving the boy a questioning look. “You okay, Gar?” Dick asked, stepping closer to the boy. Gar stood in his spot as Dick’s words ran on a loop in his head, each time sounding more and more like the girl.

Gar scoffed before turning around to face Dick. Dick called Gar’s name once more before Gar asked, “Where’s Y/N?”

Dick was utterly confused by his question. He didn’t know anyone by that name, and it worried him that Gar was so eager for the girl's whereabouts. “Who’s Y/N,” Dick asked as he tried to get more information out of the boy.

Gar shook his head in disbelief. He saw the girl. She was sitting on the very couch that was sitting right next to him. They talked as if they knew one another, and she held him in her arms. He felt as if he had known the girl. But did he really know the girl?  And it suddenly clicked in his head that before today, he had never noticed the girl.

‘Was it all a dream?’

Taglist: @esposadomd @avada-kedavra-bitch-187

A/N: I know the ending is a little bad and rushed, but I just wanted to add a bit of an element of surprise. It was more of a last-minute choice.

But, if any of you, and I mean ANY of you need someone to talk to, I am here. This story is inspired by my personal life, so I understand. Sometimes we don't know how to ask for help, or we have no one who understands us, but I want you to know that you have a voice when it comes to me. Just DM me, and I will listen.

[itsalliny0urhead]

Almost (Dick Grayson (Nightwing) x wayne!reader)

You and Dick Grayson grew up side by side — training partners, best friends, Bruce Wayne’s legacy in different forms. But after a mission nearly takes you from him, everything he’s been hiding breaks wide open. Years of silence, shared history, and feelings too dangerous to name finally reach a boiling point. And this time, neither of you walks away pretending.

dick grayson x reader

He’d known you his whole life.

You were there the night Bruce brought him to the manor, scraped and silent, ten years old and already learning to bury the grief. You sat with him at the edge of the courtyard in the rain, legs swinging off the stone ledge, offering him a broken cookie from Alfred’s tray like it was a peace treaty.

You didn’t speak much back then. Neither did he. But you understood each other.

Later came the training. The late-night stakeouts. The sparring sessions that turned into arguments, then laughter, then something quieter — a tension neither of you knew how to name.

You’d always been there. In every room he walked into. Every mission. Every memory. And now—

Now, you were bleeding on the medbay cot, skin pale and jaw tight, pressing gauze to your side while Kory tried to clean the wound.

Dick stood across the room, fists clenched, teeth grinding together so hard his jaw ached.

He couldn’t speak.

He couldn’t even look at you.

Because he had almost lost you.

And that thought— that image— had carved itself so deep into his chest, he could still feel it twisting every time he blinked.

“Lucky it didn’t hit your kidney,” Kory said gently.

You huffed a breath. “Guess I still have one good thing going for me.”

Your voice was steady, even with blood staining your shirt. You were always steady.

It pissed him off.

“You’re an idiot.” The words ripped from his mouth before he could stop them.

You blinked. Slowly. Then turned to him with that familiar edge — tired, raw. “You want to try that again?”

“I told you to wait for backup.”

“There wasn’t time.”

“You disobeyed the plan.”

You scoffed. “And saved three hostages. You’re welcome.”

“That’s not the point—”

“No?” You stood slowly, clutching your side, but your voice rose with every word. “Because from where I’m standing, I did what we were trained to do. I made the call. You’ve made worse.”

He stepped forward. “Don’t you dare throw that in my face.”

“Then stop acting like I died out there.”

The room went quiet.

His breath caught.

You froze.

And that’s when you saw it.

The tension in his shoulders wasn’t just rage. It was fear. Cold, gut-wrenching fear.

“I thought you did,” he said. His voice was low. Shaking. “For twenty-seven seconds, I thought I was too late.”

You didn’t speak.

“I saw you go down,” he continued, quieter now. “Smoke everywhere. No response in your comms. Blood on the concrete. And I thought—”

He stopped. Couldn’t say it. Wouldn’t.

You felt something crack in your chest.

You took a slow step toward him, your tone softer now. “Dick…”

“I’ve lost too much.” His hands trembled as they rose, like he didn’t know what to do with them. “Jason. Donna. Everyone I’ve ever let close…”

He looked at you. Finally. And gods, his eyes—

You’d seen him bruised, broken, nearly bleeding out in Gotham alleyways, but you had never seen him look like this.

“I can’t lose you,” he whispered.

You swallowed. Hard.

Your fingers brushed his forearm. He didn’t pull away.

“You won’t.”

He laughed — sharp, breathless. “You can’t promise that.”

“I can promise I’ll keep coming back.”

He stepped in close, so close you could feel the heat radiating off him.

“You’ve been everything since we were kids, you know that?” His voice cracked again. “You’re the only thing that’s made any of this bearable. Bruce. The suit. The weight.”

You stared at him, wide-eyed, pulse roaring in your ears.

“I know your tells,” he said. “I know when you’re about to lie. I know when you’re about to cry. I know how you take your tea, how you fake being fine, how you always put everyone else first—”

“Dick…”

“I’ve loved you since we were kids.”

The words stopped the world.

“I was going to tell you before you left for Blüdhaven. Then again before we started the team. But every time I looked at you, I got scared.”

“Scared of me?”

“No.” He reached for your hand, held it gently. “Scared of what it would mean if you didn’t feel the same.”

You stepped in, closer still, until your forehead touched his.

“Of course I feel the same,” you whispered. “I just never thought you’d say it.”

His breath hitched.

“I didn’t want to risk what we had,” he said, voice barely a breath. “But almost losing you… I can’t keep pretending.”

You looked at him then — really looked — and in his eyes, you saw all of it. The pain, the history, the love.

So you kissed him.

Slow, deep, and sure.

It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t practiced. But it was real.

His hand curled at the back of your neck, grounding you. Yours slid into the front of his suit, holding on like you’d never let go.

And for the first time in all those years, he kissed you back like he didn’t want to pretend anymore.

[jasntodds]

Penance [8]

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Powered!Reader

Words: 5,400

Chapter Warnings: Swearing, tiny bit of angst, fluff, mentions of death

Summary:❝Thesus: Stop. Give me your hand. I am your friend. Herakles: I fear to stain your clothes with blood. Thesus: Stain them. I don’t care.❞

It’s been a month and a half since Crane’s reign of terror was stopped, leaving Gotham to finally return to normal. But, what is normal? After everything Jason and you have been through, it seems normal might be some unobtainable dream state. But that’s not going to stop either of you from trying and maybe, you’ll get lucky in the end. At the end of it, the two of you have suffered enough, right?

Right?

A/N: I honestly just needed a little bit of a break from writing lol Anyway this has one of my favorite scenes in it and it's because it's cute and not angst for once lol You can add yourself to the tag list below, ask me to be tagged, or you can follow my library blog @jasntoddslibrary  and turn on notifications if you prefer that!! I love feedback, I swear it keeps me posting on a weekly basis 😭

series masterlist | masterlist | tag list

You wake up with your alarm a few hours later. You're still drowsy in your eyes but your mind is wide awake, knowing you're going to see Jason today. And unlike the last week, this makes you smile from ear to ear with excitement and nerves. You aren’t under any obligation this time. Tim is gone and it’s just you and him. You aren’t training or patrolling. You're going shopping and working on his home. It feels normal.

You change three times before deciding on jeans and a Wayne Enterprises shirt, mostly because you expect to get dirty and you don’t want to ruin one of the shirts you actually like. Though, you hate admitting the WE shirt fits nicely and it’s a good color.

When you walk into the kitchen, Molly is seated with a sandwich on a plate and her laptop open. Molly's eyes glance up to you before she goes back to her work. You start kicking on a pair of Converse before you break the silence.

“I had sex with Jason last night.” You blurt out.

Molly shoots her attention back to you and blinks a few times. “You what?” Molly asks, unsure if she heard that right.

“I had sex with Jason.” You repeat as you get your second shoe on.

“Of course, you did.” Molly lets out a sigh and that's when she sees the hint of bruises that are very clearly hickies sticking out from the collar of your shirt.

You finally look back to Molly, brows tugging together. “Fuck you?” You question.

Molly leans back to stretch, as if preparing herself for the story you'll have. “You two can’t control yourselves.” Molly rolls her shoulders.

“Well—“ You suck in a breath. “Yeah…” You let out a sigh with a small grin. “Just thought I’d tell you.”

Molly sucks in a deep breath, pushing her laptop an inch away from her. “How did you manage to sleep with him?”

“Well, okay so Dick had this whole thing where we had to spar with blindfolds on, right?” You start and Molly gives you a nod. “Well, we took it up a notch at the Manor and we’d shut all the lights off and we’d have to spar and disarm each other but we’d also have to find each other using anything but our sight. Good practice. Well, we did that last night and then…”

“Something about you two hunting each other in the dark does it for the two of you?” Molly quips.

You offer Molly a quick glare before you cross your arms. “At this point, would it shock you?”

“No.” Molly sighs honestly.

“Exactly but no.” You scoff. “We were joking like we always do, yelling at each other through the dark, ya know? And then he fucking hid before a window so I had to step into the light and we sparred there and then…I don’t know.” You shrug before you lean on the wall beside you, shifting your weight to your left foot. “I just…kissed him.”

Molly nods her head. “And then?”

“He kissed me back and one thing led to another and we said it was a one-time thing.” You gesture a hand out haphazardly.

Molly lets out a groan and while she adores the both of you, she has to wonder how two people can be so stubborn in their ways. If you want to fall into something again, that's fine but Molly can't wrap her head around the logic the two of you are using to justify your silence around each other. The two of you like to overcomplicate your own feelings when it doesn't have to be that complicated.

"What?" You question, pulling out your phone to see a text from Jason saying he's on his way.

“Do you honestly believe this is a one-time thing?” Molly asks with a bite in her voice.

“No.” You say quietly.

“Do you want it to be a one-time thing?”

“No.”

“So fucking tell him.” Molly urges.

“I-I can’t.” You shake your head. "Not yet." Your eyes go to the floor before they find their way back to Molly. “What if he leaves again?” You ask quietly, your voice falling small.

Molly's shoulders slouch forward. "Just because of what you guys do, doesn't mean it has to end that way." Molly states softly and she does believe it. She knows what you do is dangerous and maybe one of you won't come home, but that isn't guaranteed.

"That's not what I mean." You shake your head quickly. "He died, yeah and that's a whole..." You suck in a breath. "That's a thing but then...he came back and he still left me standing on a rooftop. I begged him to not leave and then he did." You let out a sigh as you look back to the floor. "So, maybe things get too hard and he leaves again. On purpose. At least...at least if he dies it's because it's part of the job, greater good."

"He left to protect you." Molly states. "I know there's more to it because he never had to work with Crane, he could have talked to Dick, there were things he could've done. But, bottom line is that he left to protect you, not because he wanted to."

"Right, yeah, but Jason Todd tends to believe he's the worst person to walk the face of the earth." You push off of the wall with a breath. "I don't know. It's like...I want to tell him and then I think of another reason not to." You shake your head, checking the time on your phone before you pocket it again. "Want it to be right, don't want to scare him off, I don't wanna leave him." You chew the inside of your cheek. "I just want it to be right next time."

Molly nods with understanding and if she were being honest, she can't imagine your point of view of standing on the roof with Jason. You don't ask people to stay. You don't stay too often. For you to beg him and him to leave anyway, Molly can only imagine the devastation that ripped through you.

"So...what do you want to do then?" Molly asks.

You let out a soft laugh. "Honestly, I don't know but as long I'm with him...I think I'm okay with whatever it is. I'll get over it, ya know?" You nod. "Uh...Jason is getting me an appointment with Leslie so...maybe I'll just ask her and maybe...maybe I'll take some advice."

"Even if she tells you to talk to him?"

You let out a groan as a smile pulls at your lips. "It would be the right thing to do."

"It would." Molly agrees with a laugh. "For what it's worth, you've looked happier the last week than you have in over a month."

You feel heat rush over your cheeks. "He still makes me very happy." You scrunch your nose. "So, anyway, I will have a conversation with him soon but for now, just know last night was fun and I'm going to Home Depot to help him fix up his place."

Molly lets out a laugh. “Oh? You moving out?”

“Shut up, no.” You laugh softly. “Just helping him.”

Molly rolls her eyes with a smile, mentally making a note of the date because she's willing to bet you'll be back living with Jason within a few months of his place being finished.

"If you say so." Molly quips as she pulls the laptop back to her.

"Are you kicking me out?" You offer a fake pout as you make your way to the door.

"No." Molly chortles. "I just know you two."

"That's fair." You laugh back. "Okay, I'll be back later." You wave quickly before heading out of the door, locking it behind you.

By the time you exit the apartment building, Jason is already there. A black sports car is parked against the curb while Jason is leaning against the passenger door, looking at his phone with one hand in his pocket. A smile tugs at your lips seeing him. Jason catches a glimpse of the doors opening and you walking out from the tops of his eyes.

“Wayne Enterprises?” Jason chortles as he looks your way.

“Fuck off.” You threaten as you close the distance between you. “Figured we’d get dirty and I don’t wanna ruin a shirt I like...unlike you.” You look him up and down. He's wearing a black leather jacket, one you always said looked good on him and a pair of black jeans.

"I'm gonna change when we get back." Jason quips back.

You point to the car. “Bruce?”

“Yeah.” Jason looks to the car and back to you. “He’s back in town today, said I could borrow it long as I didn’t do anything stupid.” Jason lets out a laugh, shaking his head. “You could talk to him.” He suggests, trying to play it casual.

Jason knows Bruce is not exactly your favorite person but he would like for you to talk to him. Jason forgives him for everything and a lot of your anger towards Bruce is because of Jason. Bruce means a lot to him and you mean a lot to him. He just wants you to get along and Bruce said he's willing to talk with you and try to smooth things over. Jason won't say it, but it would mean a lot if the two of you could get along and get to a good place.

You quirk a brow at him, almost a look of disgusted confusion plastering itself across your features. “What?”

“Could talk to him.” Jason repeats himself.

“No.” You scoff. “Why would I do that?”

The way you see it, you have nothing to say to him. You warned him about Jason and the Joker and then Jason died because Bruce wouldn't listen. All Bruce had to do was listen to Jason, listen to you, or anyone and he didn't. Then after his death, he was still referring to it like it was some sort of war and Jason was a soldier, a sacrifice for a good cause as if he wasn't his son. Your fists ball at your sides the argument replaying in your head.

Jason shakes his head. “I did.”

“Because he’s your dad.” You state. “He’s always been…” You trail off trying to find the right way to phrase it because you want to say something about Bruce weaponizing two of the most important people to you and something about him getting Jason killed which spiraled into the effect of Dick and Tim getting killed. You want to tell him details of your arguments after he died but that would be cruel. “Not that to me.”

“He’s trying.” Jason states and he knows that if he wants to be with you, which he does, it would be a whole lot easier if you and Bruce got along. “Not fucking perfect or some shit, but…trying.”

“I’m glad he’s trying, Jay. Honest.” You nod as your eyes go soft. “I just don’t have anything to say to him.” You pull in a breath.

Jason knows getting you to sit down and have a conversation with Bruce is not going to be easy. You can hold a grudge better than anyone Jason has ever met. But, he knows it's all still a little fresh for you. He hopes after a little more time you can talk to him. Jason thinks you'd actually get along if you would give him a real chance but he also knows that's a lot easier said than done. If roles were reversed, Jason wouldn't be so forgiving either.

“You’re still using his credit card.” Jason chuckles.

“I’m mad at him, not stupid.” You let out a laugh.

“Just get in the car.” Jason states as he opens the passenger side for you.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” You smile softly at him. “Thank you.”

The two of you head to Home Depot, Jason having made a list for supplies on his phone. You mostly get things like tools and drywall. You grab some outlet covers and plywood for some of the floors. Most of the house really isn’t in too bad of shape. It mostly needs a good clean and some paint. It’s only a handful of spots that need actual work done but it is nice you get to do this together.

After you get back, you get right to work working on the spare room. The drywall in that room needs to be replaced so you work on that before Jason moves onto some of the plumbing in one of the bathrooms, you taking it upon yourself to get to cleaning some of the upstairs. Jason plays a mixed playlist through the speakers, one he still has on his Spotify from when you were dating. It contains all of both of your favorite songs.

A few hours into it, Jason places an order for some food and once it’s delivered, the two of you take your seats in the main hallway downstairs, sitting on the floor. Jason sits with one leg tugged to his chest, eating his burger while you're seated cross-legged, eating the same as his just without the onion.

“Are you gonna paint?” You ask, looking around at the white walls.

“Walls are grimy as fuck.” Jason says with a mouth full of food. “Probably.”

You give him a grin. “You should paint one wall r—“

“I’m not painting the walls fucking red.” Jason lets out a booming laugh as he tilts his head back.

“But! It’s your color!” You cheer, the smile vibrant and happy. “Come on, it’ll look good! Just one wall.” Your eyes are wide and soft, cheerful and playful. Jason thinks he’s going to melt into the floor. He’d do anything to have you look at him like that all the time.

“Fine.” Jason agrees before stuffing a fry into his mouth. “One wall but I pick the shade.”

“Okay.” You beam, looking down at your food with a warm chest. You look back up to him before eating one of his fries, Jason blinking at you. That’s why he ordered a large instead of a medium. “And you should paint one wall blue.” You chime with a cheeky grin. “My blue, not Dick’s.” You laugh softly.

Jason bursts into a fit of laughter. “That’s a bit far, huh?” Jason questions.

“No! You have a wall and I have a wall! I’m helping so I think that’s only fair.” You bat your eyelashes at him with a toothy smile.

“So you think you get a whole damn wall cause you’re helping me fucking clean?”

“And because I’m your favorite vigilante!” You laugh and Jason thinks you're even cuter than you've ever been.

Happy looks good on you.

“Right.” Jason nods his head, resting his arm over his knee to lean in a bit. “And what makes you think that?”

“Well, it’s not Batman.” You chortle. “It’s not Dick because even if it were, you’d rather have a lobotomy than ever admit it. It’s not Conner because you don’t really know him well. It’s not Rachel. It’s not Superman just because he’s friends Bruce so on principle alone, it can’t be him.” You explain as Jason laughs.

Sam thinks he's laughed more in the last few minutes than he ever has. She'd do anything to keep him this happy.

Happy looks good on him.

“How many times have you thought about this?” Jason questions as he furrows his brows, a teasing grin pulling at his lips.

“Clearly, too many.” You suck in a breath. “I don’t really have a good reason for any other vigilante that I don’t know but I know it’s not them. So, really, I think my only competition is Kory and Gar because Kory is a badass and I mean…Gar.” You explain as you furrow your brows before your eyes soften at him with a gentle smile. “I still think I’m your favorite.”

Of course you are.

“All good points but you haven’t explained how you’re my favorite.” Jason teases you.

“Well, I let you sleep with me.” You fire back as Jason bursts into more laughter.

“That doesn’t fucking count.” Jason argues.

“Fine fine fine.” You shake your head. “Um…you trained me which you hold a lot of pride in.” You state. “You like my suit, clearly cause we both have hoods now. Half my damn name is literally yours.” You widen your eyes at him as you tilt your head side to side. “Because I’m your favorite.” You state with pride.

Jason shakes his head, his heart turning into a puddle of mush. He’s so in love with you. “Fine, you’ll be my favorite when I’m yours.” Jason teases back.

“Who says you’re not my favorite?” You argue.

“Krypto.” Jason answers without skipping a beat.

You tilt your head, laughing and it takes everything in him not to kiss you. “Yeah…he’s such a good boy!” You shake your head, taking another one of Jason’s fries. “You’re my second favorite though.”

Jason shakes his head. “Why?” He asks.

“Trying to get me to fill your ego?”

Jason gives you a cheeky smirk. “Can’t help myself.”

“Because you’re Jason Todd.” You answer simply. “That’s why you’re my favorite, not counting Krypto.”

Jason’s brows furrow. “What’s that mean?”

You shrug a shoulder. “Too many reasons list. You’re my favorite because you’re you.” You know it sounds a little like a copout but it's true. Jason Todd is your favorite person no matter the suit or lack thereof. It's always that simple to you.

Jason looks down, pushing the container of fries so it’s more in the middle of you. “One wall.” Jason looks back to you with a soft smile.

“Really?” You ask with hope in your eyes and Jason thinks he’d let you paint the whole place any color you wanted at this point.

“Gonna be here all the damn time anyway, right?” Jason asks.

It hasn't felt so lonely with you being around and it's not just because he's not alone physically. He never feels lonely when you're around. He feels at ease with you around and happy. He hopes you keep coming around even after you finish the house.

“Probably.” You nod quickly. “Yeah.” Your cheeks burn knowing it's true. Even if you won't intend to be around all the time, it is bound to happen if the pattern continues. Though, by the grin on his lips and the airiness of his voice, you don't think he minds. It always feels more like home when you're with him.

“Guess I could spare a few walls for you.” Jason offers a soft smile.

“Awfully nice of you, Jay.”

“I can be nice.” Jason finishes off his burger.

"You have your moments." You smile softly at him before scrunching your nose and taking another fry.

Over the next few days, the two of you continue cleaning and getting the home ready. It feels normal and happy. For once, it feels like the two of you don't have to have a care in the world as you work. And you don't even wonder what it would be like if you were actually together because you both know it would be just like this.

You're picking out an overall shade of the house and helping him pick out furniture, something he thinks would have happened anyway. Jason stocks shared food and drinks for the two of you and he says it's just because you've been helping him and you'll be by a lot anyway. It's not a big deal. You share the space without ever slapping a label on it and it feels comfortable.

Jason has also had his appointment with Leslie, asking her about you. She called you after Jason's appointment and now you have an appointment for the following week. You aren't too thrilled about it but if Jason is saying it's helping, the least you can do is try. Asking Jason to try all those months ago but not doing it yourself, makes you a hypocrite. You owe it to yourself.

The last few days have been nice and pretty easy but you're getting ready to leave your apartment now and Molly is standing in your doorway, watching you.

"Where are you going? You just got back and you don't patrol this early." Molly states as she watches you shove your backpack onto your back.

"Just out." You shrug your shoulders. "I'll be back in time for patrol." You go to walk past her but Molly blocks you.

"Where do you go when do this? Jason found you in an alley—"

"Is it a crime to go on a walk?" You question.

"It is for you, yes." Molly answers back. "You also always do it whenever something is wrong. Did something happen with Jason today?" Molly asks as you watch her face fall.

You put your hands on Molly's shoulders. "Nothing happened with Jason. We did what we usually do, worked on the house. I just have something I have to do." You close your eyes, knowing Molly isn't going to get off your back. "It just has to do with the case we're working. It's nothing, okay? I'm almost done anyway." You gesture for Molly to move.

Molly would never approve of what you're doing. Molly would tell Jason and then you'd tell Gar and Dick, next thing you would know you'd be sat in an intervention about your own self-destruction. They'd lecture about how unsafe it is and you're just punishing yourself, there are other ways. You're nearly rolling your eyes at the very thought of hearing the lecture. Even when you would defend yourself, they wouldn't believe it were just for the case. It just seems like a giant headache and a waste of time so you keep your mouth shut to Molly.

Molly moves slowly out of the way. "What the hell does that mean?"

"Nothing." You groan, not turning around to face her. "I'll be back after patrol." You state before you slide your shoes on.

"Are you in trouble?" Molly's voice grows small and quiet.

You look back to her. "No." You answer simply. "It's fine." You let out a sigh. "I'll be back." You open the door and leave without another word.

Molly watches the door close and she knows she shouldn't, but she reaches for her phone anyway. You've been better about not keeping secrets ever since you looped Molly into the vigilante world. You keeping this secret while offering next to nothing, has rubbed Molly the wrong way. Maybe if you kept your phone on, Molly wouldn't worry as much but considering you have a real fear of being kidnapped, Molly knows it's taking a lot for you to shut your phone off. It means you're up to something no one will approve of. So, she calls Jason.

"Wanna do me another favor?" Molly asks as soon as Jason picks up.

"I'm not hunting her down again, Molly." Jason says, knowing immediately what Molly was gonna ask.

Molly lets out a groan as she plops down at the kitchen table. "Look, I think she got herself into some trouble."

Jason closes his eyes but he knows you're someone who wants to handle your own trouble on your own and will, inevitably get in over your head. "What do you mean?" Jason caves.

Molly pauses for a few seconds trying to figure out how she can explain this to Jason without sounding paranoid. She's hoping his care for you will work in her favor.

"She goes out randomly, won't tell me, shuts off her phone, and today she did say it had to do with the case she's working." Molly explains.

The only weird thing in that entire sentence is your phone but Jason doesn't think that's enough of a reason. He's been doing this whole thing longer than both of you and sometimes, getting intel means it's gotta be kept quiet to everyone. If it has to do with the case, Jason's betting that's what you're doing, maybe don't want Molly involved to protect her. From where Jason is sitting, it actually seems pretty normal.

Jason lets out a sigh. "That's not a fucking reason to hunt her down." Jason states. "I'm not going. We're in a good place and I don't wanna fuck that up. I can't go stalking her around Gotham cause you're fucking worried she might be doing something weird."

"I know." Molly sighs in defeat. "I worry about you guys." Molly confesses. "Last time, please?" Molly pleads with him.

Jason gets up from his spot at the computers with a sigh. "You gotta get used to it, Molly." Jason states, keeping his voice level. "Worrying and shit, that's just part of it."

"I know." Molly nods her head. "Can't you just see where she's going?" Molly looks to the floor and lets out a breath. "I won't ask again unless I have a better reason."

Jason looks at his gear before he looks to the ceiling, knowing you're going to rip him a new one. "When did she leave?"

"Ten minutes ago."

"If she goes all Acid Fingers on me, I'm sending her to you." Jason states.

Molly smiles on the other end. "I can handle her."

Jason gets ready in his Red Hood gear, feeling a little guilty for agreeing to do this again. But, this will be the last time and he figures he'll just let you know about Molly's worrying so you can loop her in. Jason knows you're probably fine. You're smart and resourceful, if you get into trouble with whatever you're doing, you probably have some sort of backup plan for help. He's just doing this for Molly even if her worrying is rubbing off on him as he exits his building.

It takes him about fifteen minutes to find you. It's like he told Molly, you're a creature of habit. He found you near the alley you were in last time. Jason takes a roof of a nearby building and maybe this is wrong. You're perfectly fine, clearly, you're having a conversation with some man in a suit but the conversation doesn't look to be going sideways. You're fine but Jason decides to sit up on the roof and wait it out anyway. He doesn't listen in, he just watches a bit. At the end of the day, you're still meeting up with a random guy in an alley. You're paranoid on a good day, so that's weird. That's what Jason tells himself to justify his spying on you.

Once the man walks out of the alley, Jason uses his grappling hook to make his way down to you. The movement gathers attention and you immediately grab a knife from your pocket as you look up. Instead of something horrible, you see Jason. Your grip loosens as you roll your eyes. The annoyance isn't directed at him because Jason doesn't stalk you unless he's given a reason. The reason seems always to be Molly.

"What're you doing?" You question once Jason is standing with his feet on the ground.

"Who was that?" Jason asks, nodding his head towards the end of the alley where the man walked off.

"Jealous?" You quip as you cross your arms over your chest.

You can't see it, but Jason deadpans behind the helmet. "Of that fuck?" Jason scoffs. "Fuck no." Jason scans you over and you look fine, other than mildly annoyed.

Despite the annoyance, there is a part of you that does appreciate him checking in on you. You know Molly sent him and even if Jason was certain you were fine, he did it to put Molly at ease which is nice. If you were in Jason's shoes, you'd be doing the same thing so you can't get too mad at him. If you were being honest, you can't get too mad at Molly either.

"So?" You raise your brows and gesture a hand out to him, waiting for him to give you an explanation.

"Don't shoot the messenger." Jason puts his hands up in defense.

You roll your eyes. "Molly, really?"

"She's worried about you." Jason states, the voice modulator hiding a tint of worry in his own voice.

"I'm fine, Red." You gesture a hand over yourself. "See?"

You make a mental note to have a sit down with Molly because you can't be asking Jason to track you down whenever she's worried. What Molly doesn't understand is that you and Jason are both prepared for when something goes wrong. Molly knows you have your failsafes but that doesn't seem to put her mind at ease very much. The more you're thinking about it, knowing Jason has one doesn't put you at much ease either.

Jason nods his head but he's not willing to let it rest. "Can't fucking blame her when you're the one being ominous as fuck about what you're doing."

"I'm just getting some intel." You state casually. "It's really not a big deal."

If it weren't a big deal, you would tell Molly. Jason knows there has to be more to it. You're being too secretive about it but it's not exactly his place to badger you about it. It's your case, not his even if you agreed you'd kind of work your cases together. It's still yours and you were trained the same way he was. He's just worried about you and now he knows how you felt when he was Robin. It's not fun worrying about the person you care about all the time.

"You sure that's all it is?" Jason questions and receives a nod from you. "Why not tell Molly?"

You shrug softly and you really don't have an answer outside of the truth. "Um...it's not...the same case I've been working." You confess and Jason's stomach starts to twist.

"What the hell did you get into?" Jason nearly demands as worry starts to tug at his bones.

You close some of the distance between you, lightly grabbing his forearms in your hands. "Nothing, I swear. It's not anything bad or dangerous." You urge as your eyes meet the whites of his helmet. "I know that sounds like bullshit but I promise, it's not."

Jason's eyes are scanning over your features and you're not lying to him but somehow that doesn't reassure him. You not being in danger should rid the anxiety wanting to melt from his flesh but all he does is grow more confused.

"Not very reassuring." Jason quips.

You chew the inside of your cheek as you drop your hands. "Can you trust me, please?" You plead with him and you can't see it, but his features soften under the helmet.

"You get into any shit, you'll tell me, right?" Jason asks.

You nod and offer him a soft smile. "Yeah, of course but it's not that kind of case. I'll tell you when I can, promise." You nod again and your smile seems to turn sad.

"Alright." Jason sighs.

"I always have my knives and if I'm ever in a bad enough situation, I will burn someone. I got it."

Jason nods and he rests a hand on your hip lightly. "Sorry for stalking you." A chuckle leaves his lips.

"Yeah, you weirdo." You snicker. "It's okay. I'd do the same." You beam up at him, getting you a laugh from Jason.

"You would." Jason quips back. Jason swallows thickly. "Hey, are you sure you couldn't talk to the Bat?"

You shake your head as if doing a double take. "Why do you want me to talk to him so bad?"

Jason shrugs trying his best to play it off as something that doesn't matter too much. "You two not getting along is bound to cause a problem, rather not deal with it."

"I don't have anything to say to him, Red." You urge once more and the very thought of talking to Bruce makes you want to scream.

"Is it because of what happened?" Jason asks.

"No." You answer honestly. "There's more. I don't wanna get into it." You pull in a breath and you wish you could see his face. "I'm sorry but...I can't."

You can't see it, but Jason's face falls into something between disappointment and defeat.

"It's alright, worth a shot." Jason clears his throat and you feel the guilt bubbling into your throat. "Meet up for food later?" Jason changes subject.

"Always." You nod quickly, offering a small smile that never reaches your eyes. "Two?"

"Meet you at Excellent Gotham? I'll pick something up."

"Sounds good." You beam up at him. "Be careful, Red." Your eyes narrow slightly before you scrunch your nose. "I'm gonna go home to get read and I'll be out."

"Want an escort?" Jason offers with a subtle squeeze to your hip.

"I'm okay, but thank you." You smile softly at him before you pull away. "Okay, I'll meet you at two. I'll text you." You grin back at him before you spin on your heels and head down the end of the alley.

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[oneshots-heaven]

THE MOTEL ROOM.

From the beginning, Dick Grayson and you were trained and put up as the perfect rivals. Two individuals with different perspectives and motivations who yet want the same out of life.

Meeting each other over and over again, it is the same situation: one wins, the other loses — but it all ends in the same motel room.

A three-part series set Pre-Titans in Gotham City, which will contain mature content and is not suitable under the age of 18.

PART ONE: "The Begin" PART TWO: "The Middle" PART THREE: "The End"

Coming soon.

[breesperez139]

Dc x Dp Prompt #6

“I’m a twin”, Damian said one night. He could feel the narrowed eyes of his family drilling holes on his back in disbelief. Not that he could blame them. Damian had never so much as implied being raised with a companion, much less a sibling.

“I had a brother”. Damian paused to recollect himself. He had not said his brother’s name out loud in over 8 years.

“His name was… Danyal”. Damian hated the way his voice wavered, but he could not help it. Danyal was everything to him, his other half. Their heart beat as one and when one heart stopped beating, the other one died with it. At least until his family put his heart on metaphorical life support without ever realizing.

“Where is he now?” His father asked, voice filled with knowing grief and a hint of betrayal. It had in fact been 6 years since Damian first showed up on his doorstep.

“Up there”. All eyes shifted towards the specific star he was pointing to. “Right before he died, he promised me he’d guide me from the stars. Unfortunately, the stars are not visible in Gotham, so my brother is unable to be of much help unless I leave the city.”

“Your brother is Polaris, the North Star?” Tim questioned warily, most likely in attempts to not offend him. Damian was aware of how stupid it sounded, but Danyal had promised, and his brother never broke his promises.

“Yes. Danyal is with the stars now, just as he always wanted”

[literaryspinster]

Thousand Word Preview: Tiger Boy and the Witch Girl Ch. 3

This is the first half of the new chapter (the second half will be Rachel and Gar centered), which I will add to my my planned repost of the story, hopefully this week. Please enjoy and thank you all for your patience 🥺

He isn’t falling in love with her, that would be ridiculous. 

The first time he had to tell himself that he wasn’t falling in love with her was during the grand reopening. Haly’s had closed for two months to retool the entire operation while building the sort of anticipation that had been all but lost over many years.

As much as he hated to admit it, it was a relief to have a break from the long hours, skimpy yet demanding crowds and utter disappointment. It was nice to go to sleep early, and make fresh decisions whether they would end up paying off or not. And above all, it was nice to see her. As much as she annoyed him, and boy did she ever, he still found himself tapping his foot impatiently whenever she ran a few minutes late, and when she finally did arrive, he’d have to still his lips against turning up in a smile. But the thwarted grin was only because she was done wasting his time, not because he was happy to see her, of course.

Why would he be happy to see someone who gave him such a headache?

He must have told her 1000 times that she wasn’t allowed on the silks, but did she listen? No, because she never listens.

But then, the first time he sees her, her body elegantly wound in lengths of fire red, spiraling down through the air and stopping just short of the looped end, something strikes his chest like a big rubber mallet. It isn’t fear, no, it’s awe. And that’s when he decides, if she blacks out and falls off of the silks, then he’ll catch her. Not because the crowd will love it, but because he can’t let such a magnificent thing fall. 

But for weeks and weeks, nothing of the sort happens, nothing happens when she juggles sharp objects or objects set on fire, nothing happens when she’s high up in the sky, dazzling him in her sparkly purple outfit and bright magenta hair.

He watches her like a hawk, for the slightest droop of an eyelid, and he watches until she’s back on the ground and the crowd is roaring in applause.

Business is steadily climbing, the seats are filling out a little more each night, and it’s starting to lift something in him. When he masters the ring he does it with a flair they haven’t seen in ages, a sparkle in those wild eyes of his.

At the end of tonight, he counts their earnings while Kory sits leisurely on the corner of his desk, ignoring the extra chair completely. Her magenta stage wig is off now and her dark red curls tumble over her lithe but strong shoulders, she’s pretty like this, he thinks, but really she’s pretty no matter what.

“This is the most we’ve made all year,” he says, barely believing it himself although he’s counted the stacks three times. It’s enough to make up for the time the circus was closed and then some, it’s enough to take another few weeks off if they want.

“And yet I’m not entirely satisfied,” she says, pinching her chin in contemplation. “I have a proposition for you,” she says.

“A proposition?”

“What do you think about taking our show on the road?” she says. He doesn’t recoil at her calling it their show anymore, maybe he just got used to it, maybe he just gave up, but it doesn’t feel quite so wrong to his ears anymore, besides, it’s true, it is their show. Still, making it a traveling circus has never been something he seriously considered. It’s a huge undertaking, expensive and time draining. There’s a chance of course that they can recoup their losses in the increased ticket sales, but it’s a gamble even bigger than the one she took to earn this place.

“Do you know what that entails?” he says. “The train rental, the extra staff the ad space-

“The thingies and the whatnots?” she cuts in. “Why yes my dear, I know full well, and I think we’re perfectly capable. Think about it, we’re one of the few circuses that never moves, even now with all of our new acts attendance will start to level off, but if we’re in a new town with a brand new audience base then we’ll sell out every show easily and give Gotham a chance to really miss us.”

He’s considered all of this, surely more than she has, and just because she’s proven surprisingly good at running a circus doesn’t mean she’s fully prepared for what she’s suggesting.

“I ran the numbers left right and backwards,” she pushes. “We can do it, I know we can.”

He’s silent at her words, unmoved.

“Anyway, think about it.”

There’s a few more moments of silence before he answers. “I can think about it.”

“Good, oh and by the way, we have an elephant now.”

His eyes go wide and lock on her, trying to gauge whether she’s joking, but of course she’s never joking, every wild thing she’s said to him over the past several months has been 100 percent true.

“We don’t do animal acts, nothing but horses you know that.” “I do, and I’d never use him in an act. He was about to be euthanized. I couldn’t allow it.”

“Euthanized?”

“By the circus who bought him, he won’t follow directions worth a damn and costs too much to feed.”

“So you thought we could use the extra expense?” he says, getting agitated.

“Use it? No. Handle it? of course.”

He glances again at the stacks of bills on the desk. If he’d fought her more, took her to court, whatever it took to make his Circus his again, would they be there? Would he be this rested and this loose in the chest? He can smell the cash a little, it smells like old books and city grime and possibility. He focuses on her again, pushing his anxiety down and letting out an acquiescing breath. 

“What’s its name?” He asks.