#it’s actually Jason as red hood but B gets a for effort | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bigskydreaming · 3 years ago

Text

Okay, so you know “Justice League meets Batman’s kids, who they’d previously been unaware existed” AUs?

So picture that.....but this time, instead of them just having no knowledge of any of these other Gotham vigilantes at all....the Batkids all migrate to various cities as they get older and become known as their protectors - Dick in Bludhaven, Tim in San Francisco, Cass in Hong Kong, etc....

Meaning they’re all established figures, the Justice League are aware of them as solo local heroes who stick to their cities and so they just don’t interact with them much if at all, or else some are members of team lineups but are particularly vague about their histories or life outside of the team’s adventures....

So the big reveal isn’t that they become aware of all these other Gotham vigilantes all at once....its that some big conflict or whatever requires a huge team up of all available heroes, and in the aftermath, they figure out that like.....despite being known as solo heroes who work alone or loners outside of their team settings, 80% of these heroes all not only seem to already know each other, they seem to be related.

And so naturally they all turn to Batman, who has profiles on every known hero and they thus figure had researched these individuals too and just never mentioned this little detail, and they’re like, “Did you know about this?”

And then Nightwing turns to him too, arms crossed and is like, “Yeah Dad, did you know about this?”

And the infamous Red Hood is all: “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I have never met any of these people before in my life. Lives? Whatever.”

And then Red Robin moodily grates out “I have no siblings.” Since he’s nursing a grudge since Dick and Jason broke into his apartment the night before and replaced all his custom Red Robin gear with Darkwing Duck merchandise and his vengeance will be swift and also totally disproportionate because things escalate quickly in this family, that’s true in every universe.

Cass meanwhile has deftly skewered Jason’s lie by walking over to him and brazenly patting down the man with many many guns with no fear whatsoever. He squawks and futilely attempts to bat her hands away as she riffles through his many pockets, but he doesn’t seem shocked, just annoyed. Eventually, she pulls away and triumphantly reveals a box of Hello Kitty themed band-aids.

“So these are yours then? Just for you?” Black Bat asks smugly. Red Hood squints at the box.

“What the fuck? How long have those been in my jacket? Why are those in my jacket? Did you freaking plant them in my jacket just on the offchance you could at some point in the distant future use them at my expense?”

Black Bat frowns, puzzled. “Yes?”

“Oh come on, Dead Hood,” Spoiler says with an exaggerated toss of her head meant to convey she’s rolling her eyes beneath her own mask. She skips her way across the room to Black Bat and then drapes herself languidly all over the smaller woman. Who in turn doesn’t so much as twitch beneath the sudden added mass as Spoiler holds out her hand towards the box of band-aids.

“One please. I have a boo-boo,” she says with easy familiarity straight into the intimidating cowl of Black Bat. Only then does she deign to finish her train of thought with Red Hood.

“I mean seriously, are you saying you don’t have potential blackmail set-ups, pre-rigged releases of incriminating material, and a random assortment of traps, pratfalls and mortifying scenarios in place for the express purpose of being able to humiliate any and all of your siblings at any given moment, without any need for additional prep time?”

“Is this true, Little Wing?” Nightwing whirls on the larger Red Hood with a faux-scandalized gasp. The founder and leader of the Titans, formerly the Teen Titans, renowned for his stratagems and calm competence when directing squads of supers in the heat of battle while he keeps pace with nothing more than naturally acquired acrobatics and a utility belt that apparently uses the same technology as Wonder Woman’s invisible jet....now appears to be....staggering with the back of his hand pressed to his forehead, moaning about how he felt....faint?

What is happening right now, several dozen superheroes want to know. Is this a drill? Are they supposed to be checking for signs of a mental ambush from undetected psychic saboteurs? Did they all hit their heads at the exact same time and are now experiencing some kind of shared mass concussion?

Look, that wouldn’t be the weirdest thing to ever happen on the Watchtower.

“Have I failed you so utterly?” The veteran child hero bemoans with a dramatic twirl - that when contrasted with his stern demeanor of a mere ten minutes ago - makes the fears of telepathic infiltration seem less paranoia and more....concerningly probable. “Did you learn nothing from me? Did you learn nothing from B?”

He stops and jabs a finger up at the sky. “Quick, everyone! What is the very first rule of Living While Batty?”

As if by rote, over a half a dozen voices chime in from all over the room, causing various heroes to jump. Spooked by yet more and more vigilantes joining in some kind of mass recitation like they and they alone have some kind of clue what the hell is going on and everyone else just hadn’t been invited to the party. Which is just rude, honestly. Nobody likes feeling like they weren’t invited to the party. Not even superheroes.

“If you’re not going to bother preparing for every possible contingency and at least six impossible ones, you might as well just stay in bed.”

Even the Red Hood joins in the Illuminati chant or Cub Scout pledge or demonic ritual or whatever the fuck that just was, though his slumped and exasperated posture gives away every hint of sulkiness his headgear otherwise would have kept safely hidden. He’s surprisingly more...expressive, than most who’d only known of him by reputation had expected him to be. The day continues to yield surprises.

“Of fucking course I do,” he growls out, snatching the box from Black Bat. She doesn’t even fight to hold onto it, just lets it go with a knowing smirk. “I wasn’t surprised by the idea of it, I was just surprised she bothered with such a weak effort. Like yeah whatever, actually those could be mine. I use those all the time at home. So what?”

He aggressively yanks one of the band-aids out of the box, fumbles with the peel-off strips with one hand and he roughly rolls up the sleeve of his jacket with the other. Then just slaps it on his forearm and raises said appendage high, showing it off this way and that. “See?”

“Oh yeah, for sure,” Signal drawls from the other side of the room, nodding his head approvingly. “Totally convincing. Nice job walking that one back, you really showed them.”

Red Hood’s head snaps in his direction with ominous intent. “Watch it, Day-Glo.”

Signal just snorts.

“Yeah, like I’m gonna take constructive criticism on my name and costume from a dude who’s spent the last several years calling himself Red HOOD while running around in a freaking HELMET.”

“Its not meant to be literal, you fucking pedant.”

“So wait, its not literally a helmet? Huh, does it at least protect your head literally, or just like...symbolically? Like if Bane were to clock you across the head, would your concussion just be a metaphor? What’s the treatment protocol for a metaphorical concussion? Fluids, bedrest and a philosophical prescription of two chapters of Chicken Soup for the Soul as needed?”

“Laugh it up, KC and the Sunshine Band,” Red Hood bats back. “You just got yourself disinvited from Thursday night’s poker game.”

Signal just grins and folds his arms over his chest cockily. “Please. You’ve been looking for an excuse to ban me for weeks, cuz you know until you can prove I’m using my ghost vision to cheat, you can’t actually bring suit against me for it in Family Court.”

“That, and also Family Court isn’t a real thing, you toddler. Stop validating Wing-a-ding-ding’s obsession with Shitty TV Nostalgia and just call it that thing where Oracle traps us all in a room until we settle our latest fight without anyone getting stabbed.”

“Yeah, but like, say that five times fast,” Spoiler pipes up. “Its just not practical. Family Court’s way easier.”

“Says the one who’s not even in our fucking family.”

“And yet I grace you all with my sublime presence anyway,” she blows a kiss at him, beatifically unbothered. “You’re welcome.”

The Red Hood scoffs and rounds on his heel, zeroing in on Batwoman in the far corner.

“Hey Auntie B, my siblings are all dead to me and I just helped stop an alien invasion so I deserve nice things like a fun Saturday night. Can you get me into Dad’s fundraiser so I can crash it? He won’t put me back on the list until I promise not to bring any C-4 with me and I won’t promise not to bring any C-4 because he should just trust me that I won’t when I say I’m not gonna and he won’t trust me that I won’t until I admit I shouldn’t have brought any to that sting last month where three tiny little yachts blew up through barely any fault of my own, and I’m just not gonna do that ever because I have convictions and I feel I shouldn’t have to be punished for that. Y’know?”

Batwoman blinks at him. “Kid, I’m not gonna lie to you. You’re my nephew and I love you, but I stopped listening three seconds into all that.”

“Ugh, fine. Can you help me crash Dad’s event tonight so I can teach him a lesson about why he should just trust me not to make a scene so I don’t have to always make a scene to make a point.”

“Tempting as you make that sound,” she says wryly, “I have a strict policy for dealing with you lot and your......everything. I only worry about tolerating one of you at a time, and there’s seven of you, and seven days in the week. You each get your own. You know perfectly well its Robin’s day today. You get me on Tuesday, just like always.”

“Auntie B, we’re not like other families, are we?” Red Robin’s delivery is sarcastically childish and his question clearly rhetorical. Most of his attention is fixated on whatever it is he’s doing with his wrist-mounted computer.

“No sweetie, we’re all severely fucked in the head and a little bit too comfortable with that.”

“Just checking. Oh hey, Hood, I just emailed you a patch for the hole in your firewall I exploited when replacing all my shit using your accounts just now.”

“You did what?”

“Used your accounts to pay to replace all my stuff that you fucked with last night?” Red Robin says slowly. “Did you not realize that I’ve been sticking within ten feet of you for the past five minutes just so I could clone your devices and do all that while BB and Spoiler kept you distracted? I gotta say, bro, I feel like that’s on you then.”

Red Hood swivels his helmeted head in the direction of the aforementioned two. Black Bat waves. Spoiler shoots him an utterly unrepentant thumbs up.

“You’d side with your ex over me? That’s what its come to?”

“My only allegiance is to chaos,” Spoiler says brightly. Black Bat shrugs.

“Plus he bribes better.”

“Hateful,” Red Hood points at Black Bat, moving on to level the same finger at Spoiler, who curtsies in acknowledgment: “Hateful-er.”

Then the finger rounds the bases to aim judgmentally at Red Robin. “Hateful-est. And that was all Nightwing’s idea anyway, not mine.”

“Oh, I assumed as much,” he says casually. “Your idea of a prank tends to have more of a Carrie vibe. Or be a literal literary reenactment.”

“Its called an homage, 4chan.”

“Whatever, plagiarist. And anyway, I couldn’t go after ‘Wing for payback on this one. He used an Immunity card. If you didn’t want me getting back at you, you should have used one too."

Red Hood looms aggressively. Red Robin ignores willfully. Round and round they go. Superheroes who can survive excessive G-Forces are getting dizzy just watching them have a largely motionless stand-off. That shouldn’t be how that works, but whatever. All the most infamously reclusive and isolated heroes in all hero-dom are apparently part of the same one big reclusive and isolated family of fucked up weirdos and they’re all officially bonkers. Nothing makes sense anymore. Reality broke. Try another stall.

“Okay, but see, in order to have an Immunity card, I would have to participate in one of you losers’ stupid Immunity challenges,” the Red Hood drags out with exaggerated patience. “And I’m just not going to do that, on account of those all being fucking stupid. You see the problem there?”

Red Robin just shrugs. “I don’t know what to tell you, bro. You can have principles or you can have an Immunity card. You can’t have both.”

Meanwhile, on another side of....the same room.....look, its like, an octagonal room, probably. It has a lot of sides. Robin fends off questions from an aggrieved looking Superboy.

“You never told me you had a bajillion brothers and sisters!”

“Yes but I never said I didn’t either.”

Superboy rolls his eyes. “Oh yeah, so I should just assume everyone I meet has a bajillion secret brothers and sisters?”

“Well clearly it would have worked out in your favor in this instance if you had, now wouldn’t it?”

“Assuming of course that you can trust what has been said or implied here today and I am actually related to any of those numbskulls. Which I am not actually admitting to,” Robin tacks on hastily.

Superboy eyes him dubiously. “You joined in the same creepy chant all the others did and then got super self-conscious and looked around to see if anyone had noticed. Which uh. I did.”

“First off, your interpretation of body language is abyssmal. I do not get self-conscious,” Robin says with a delivery that probably could have benefited from being a little less self-conscious. “And second....that proves nothing. I guessed what they were going to say.”

“Word for word,” Superboy says super-skeptically.

“I’m very good at guessing things. You know this.”

“Okay. Guess how much I believe you right now then.”

Robin glares and folds his arms grumpily across his chest.

“And what was that anyway? Was that like....you guys’ family motto or something like that?”

“Oh no,” Spoiler pipes up. “That’s much shorter.”

Superboy balks at that. “Wait, you guys actually have one of those for real?”

“Yup,” Steph says, counting out the words with her fingers. “He who laughs last....probably works for the Joker. So tranq him just to be safe. See? Only sixteen words. The first rule of Living While Batty is way longer, and what we said was just the abridged version. You should hear the original, before Black Bat put her foot down and refused to memorize it unless sizable edits were made.”

Superboy hovers between her and Robin now, both in mid-air and on the verge of taking Spoiler’s words as an invitation to hear just that. A low growl arises from Robin’s direction.

“Must you?” He asks the older vigilante, with a most put upon expression.

She looks at him pityingly. “Do you actually need me to answer that? Like, we’ve met, right? Hi, I’m Spoiler.”

“Wait, so Robin said that I just never specifically asked him if he had a bajillion brothers and sisters, and that’s why he didn’t tell me, so that means he wouldn’t have just lied and there’s not some code of secrecy that flat out forbids telling other people stuff, right?” Superboy realizes excitedly.

“Yes, excellent direction. Go on,” Spoiler says, steepling her fingers. Robin buries his face in the palm of one hand.

“Soooo, what other stuff could you tell me about Robin’s super top secret family that I wouldn’t think to ask about but that he would tell me about if I knew what questions to ask?”

She claps once, lightly but with emphasis. “Well done. You’ve passed the first barrier. Untold secrets await you behind just a few more.”

“I’ll get you for this,” Robin vows calmly. She waves a hand at him.

“Yeah, yeah. Just make sure you do it before January 1st, remember? You’ve promised retribution like ten times already this year and those don’t roll over, y’know. Rules are rules.”

“Enough!” Thunders a voice then, from the front of the room. Well one of the fronts anyway. Like sides, it has a lot of them, but this is the one where Batman’s standing. All eyes snap to him. Which is kinda just what eyes do when Batman says stuff like that. Its like his superpower, except he doesn’t actually have superpowers, which is what makes it scary. But where the snapping of the eyes (directional) is usually followed by Batman saying something else besides just “hey look at me,” here he pauses in the wake of his own call to attention’s waning reverberations. Uncharacteristically silent.

Not that, y’know, he’s normally Mr. Talkity Talk, but usually his silences feel like he has the words to fill them, he’s just withholding them. This though, this feels more like he doesn’t have any words at all. And he’s as confused by it as any of them, and most everyone else is confused by Batman being confused, and its this whole trickle down economy of confusion and its wrecking havoc on the value of the golden silence standard.

Of course, not everyone present is rendered spellbound with confusion.

“C’mon B,” Nightwing cajoles, leaning forward and practically radiating delight. “I think you know what you have to do now. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity. Its not likely to come around again.”

Red Hood snickers beneath his helmet and chimes in. “Yeah Pops, go ahead. You do this and you’ll actually have my respect for a whole twenty four hours. No, wait. Sixteen. No! Eight. Yeah, eight. Still a good deal.”

“Carpe diem, B,” Red Robin grins, leaning back as if to enjoy the show.

“Hey! Infringe on my trademark one more time, dude,” Signal throws a faux-glare at the former. Red Robin just quirks an eyebrow.

“And what, you’ll start saying Yum every time you eat a burger? Oh no. I’m hoist by my own petard.”

Signal flips him off with a grin and then redirects his attention back to Batman. “Yeah seriously though B, you kinda gotta do it now. Because if you don’t do it, then you’ll forever be the guy who didn’t do it, and you don’t want to be that guy, do you?”

“Yeah you really don’t want to be that guy,” Spoiler shouts out. “Nobody likes that guy. He’s the worst.”

“Do it, do it,” Black Bat starts chanting beside her, steadily picking up speed and volume. Several others start joining in. Even Robin appears to be slightly anticipatory, albeit trying very hard to hide it.

Batman sighs, and somehow everyone manages to hear it. Stills. Waits for....something? Nobody but them seems to have any clue what, but the air is thick and heavy with portentiousness. Something is about to happen, and all most of the heroes present could say for sure is it was something they never would have in a million years seen coming.

Finally, Batman straightens with the resigned air of a man about to have oh so many regrets. He crosses his arms, shakes his head, and in an absolute deadpan monotone, says:

“You are awful children. You know you’re killing me. You’re killing your father.”

2K notes · View notes

invisibleanonymousmonsters · 4 years ago

Text

This Game of Yours

Father of Mine – Part 1 and Part 2

Jason was beautiful.

And somehow that scar that went from the right corner of his mouth up to his temple only made him that much more beautiful to Y/N.

Those blue eyes were the same color of water on a stormy day in the Irish sea. And somehow Y/N knew they held the same tempestuousness.

The white streak weaved with his jet black hair so naturally that Y/N would’ve believed he was born with it.

His shoulders were so broad, making his 6’3 height feel even more imposing. He had a presence. People noticed every time he walked into a room. It made Y/N wonder how he was ever able to sneak up on people as Red Hood.

He was wearing a black hoodie underneath his black moto jacket.

Y/N knew Jason didn’t give a shit about fashion. Yet he was well-dressed without any effort – more so than most of the models Y/N had shot throughout her career.

Not being able to control herself any longer, Y/N raised her camera and took a photo.

Jason stopped surveying their surroundings and his gaze snapped to her.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

But his growl didn’t scare her in the slightest.

“Anyone who’s by me when I have a camera is at risk of getting their picture taken. No one is safe. Not even you,” she answered his question unapologetically.

Y/N was working on a personal passion project for her next show. Her collection would be about the poverty and crime of Gotham. Half of the photos would show the heaviest crime areas of the city. And the other half would expose the lifestyles of the wealthiest people in Gotham.

Why did so many suffer from the same system that helped the rich get even richer?

When Bruce found out Y/N was going to Crime Alley and the Bowery by herself, he was visibly upset.

But he realized that Y/N would do as she pleased, so his plan b was to give her protective detail.

However, Y/N didn’t know that Jason had volunteered, almost immediately.

Instead, all she heard was Jason grimly telling her, “You’re lucky you haven’t been fucking murdered yet.”

She had only responded with a roll of her eyes.

“I’m not your escort so you can take my picture. I’m here so you don’t get raped or murdered.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you have a way with words?”

His only response was a glare.

Jason loved playing this game. The game of pretending to be irritated with her when actually he was absolutely infatuated with Y/F/N Y/L/N.

“The easiest way to stop getting your picture taken is to always be the one holding the camera,” Y/N added with a smirk and wink.

Jason didn’t answer, only thinking what a shame it was that no one got to photograph her.

Suddenly, the sunlight hit the top of his head perfectly, creating a halo around that thick and messy hair of his.

Y/N snapped another photo.

“Will you stop?” He warned.

It only succeeded in making her laugh.

And that just excited his heart even more.

“Jason, you were born to get your photo taken.”

There was no joke underneath her words, only sincerity.

“Whatever,” he mumbled.

Jason had a hard time believing that. His skin was riddled with scars. And he was convinced that she’d be singing a different song if she saw his chest, with its thick autopsy scar amongst the so many others. The absolute last word he’d use to describe himself was beautiful. Strong and imposing? Yes. But never beautiful – or any other positive adjective, for that matter.

“I’m not kidding. If you ever want to stop the whole vigilante thing, you can easily become a model.”

Y/N had noticed it as soon as Jason took of his helmet that night. His domino mask had done nothing to prevent her from noting the obvious.

It didn’t take long for Y/N to realize Jason wasn’t like his “brothers.”

“Brothers.” What a strange word.

Should she consider all of them as hers?

Only Damian was actually related to her – and technically he was only her half-brother.

Y/N had watched Jason get on his motorcycle and leave the cave that night she’d almost died.

She’d agreed to stay for dinner and get to know everyone. And a part of her brain was excited to get a better read on the masked man that sat by her bedside as she’d recovered.

“He’s not staying?” Y/N had asked Bruce as he guided her to the stairs that led back up to the manor.

He only shook his head, but she noticed the disappointed expression.

Soon she found out that Jason was the black sheep of this strange family that had taken her in.

Dick was the one who told her about Jason’s dark past. All of it seemed unbelievable: murdered by Joker and brought back to life from a mysterious pit. Only to return to the family who appeared to have replaced him and never sought vengeance on Jason’s behalf.

But it was true; Y/N had seen no lie in Dick’s eyes when he filled her in.

Suddenly there was yelling coming from around the corner.

Without hesitation, Jason shoved Y/N behind him.

He reached for one of his guns and then realized that he didn’t have any.

Y/N was rather vocal about hating them, claiming they made her extremely uncomfortable.

Her expression alone as she said it was enough for Jason to swallow his stubbornness and leave the things at home.

Bruce was rather taken aback by the gesture. Nothing he’d ever said was enough to get Jason to do that.

A gang of young men came marching around the corner like they owned the place…because they did. This was their territory.

Jason immediately recognized them as some of the Russian mob.

Despite pulling Y/N behind him, they still caught sight of her and looked her up and down without an ounce of shame.

“Hey, beautiful. How you doing?”

“Продолжай идти, придурки,” Jason growled at them.

He was outnumbered. But there must’ve been something about his body language that made the gang realize they shouldn’t pick a fight with him. Maybe it was the muscles or his height or that he looked like he wouldn’t even blink before murdering them.

So they just…walked away. Some of them mumbled threats or insults at him. But they realized they shouldn’t even so much as look at Y/N.

A split second before they were gone, Y/N took a picture of Jason.

“Really?” He asked.

She shrugged. “You look like a different person when you’re protective.”

Y/N was beautiful.

Jason watched as she passionately explained her work to a potential buyer.

He recognized the man as a local politician – luckily, one of the few that hadn’t been corrupted from this shitty city.

Y/N had the intimidating energy of her father, but the kind eyes of her mother. At least, that was what Bruce had told everyone, and they all took his word for it.

She wore a stylish white jumpsuit that made her look like a 1980s villain and black stiletto heels.

Jason watched as men cowered in her presence, hating the fact that she proudly stood taller than them. She was just one less woman they could intimidate or manipulate – and they couldn’t stand it.

But Jason loved watching the emasculation in real time.

The bastards didn’t deserve her anyway.

Dick was one of the very few men Jason knew who didn’t blink at a woman towering over him. In fact, his older brother had a track record of preferring it.

“Surprised to see you here,” Bruce said beside him, catching Jason watching Y/N.

“Well, I was her personal bodyguard through all this. Figured I should see if it was worth me wasting my time or not.” Then he tossed back his champagne and slammed it on the tray of a waiter passing by. “Plus, free alcohol.”

Bruce just quirked an eyebrow, silently telling Jason that he knew he was lying.

“Are you buying something?” Jason asked, trying to change the subject.

“I have been strictly forbidden,” Bruce sighed.

Jason chuckled.

He knew if Bruce had his way, he’d buy every single on of Y/N’s pieces.

“I have to know,” Bruce began. “What exactly is holding you back?”

Jason finally ripped his gaze away from Y/N to give Bruce a questioning look.

“What are you talking about?”

“Y/N. You care about her.”

“All of us do,” Jason brushed off. “Even the demon spawn.”

Bruce knew there wasn’t a chance Jason would admit his feelings – especially to him.

“Not that I think you care…but you have my approval.”

Little did Bruce know, Jason did care.

Jason had convinced himself that their rocky relationship and past fights meant that Bruce would die before he let Jason be anywhere near his daughter.

And Jason could hardly blame him.

He didn’t deserve to be loved. He lost that right after he died and came back a monster. And that was the story Jason told himself over and over again.

So he would love Y/N from afar. And hope she would pick someone who was worthy of her love.

“She’s basically my sister,” Jason groaned in fake disgust.

It was quite the performance.

Bruce narrowed his eyes. “We both know that isn’t what’s stopping you. And you’ve made it clear you don’t consider us your family.”

“Whatever, Bruce.”

Jason walked away, having enough of the subject.

“What was that about?” Clark asked as he joined Bruce’s side.

“Jason refusing to let himself be happy,” Bruce sighed.

Clark already knew what Bruce was talking about. He’d seen Y/N and Jason dancing around each other for months now. He’d never really seen Y/N take an interest in anyone before, so it was all new for Clark.

“Don’t worry. Y/N won’t let him get away with it for much longer,” Clark said through a smirk. “She gets what she wants.”

And Bruce believed him.

“It doesn’t bother you – the two of them together?” Clark asked with genuine curiosity.

“Jason reminds me every day that I’m not his father. And I’m hardly Y/N’s.” A soft smile formed on Bruce’s lips. “He’ll look after her. And she…I think she’d be good for him. I just want them to be happy. Both of them.”

——

Jason headed home rather early.

He’d never actually went to say congratulations or even hello to Y/N.

Every time he was about to go over, someone else stole her attention. He didn’t want to get in the way of her talking to potential buyers or even just friends.

Jason was just about to make himself something to eat when there was a knock at his door.

He froze.

Very few people knew where his apartment was.

Jason grabbed a gun and tiptoed to his front door.

With a peak through the peephole, he let out a irritated sigh.

Jason whipped the door open, “You’re lucky I didn’t shoot your head off.”

“Maybe don’t own guns and you wouldn’t have to worry about shit like that,” Y/N snapped back.

“What are you doing here?”

“You come to my gallery opening and don’t even say hi?” Y/N accused as she stepped around him and into the apartment, not waiting for an invitation.

Jason eyed the paper bag that was in one of her hands.

“By all means, come on in,” he called sarcastically as he slammed the door behind her.

Y/N started searching through his cabinets. “Where are your glasses?”

“The one to your right. What are you doing here?”

Y/N had the brightest and almost mischievous smile as she pulled a bottle of champagne from the paper bag.

“I brought this as my thanks for you making sure I don’t – and I quote – ‘get raped and murdered.’”

Jason glared at her.

Here was the game again.

Y/N being charming and hilariously provoking..and Jason pretending like he hadn’t fallen for her.

She poured them both a glass. They weren’t flutes or coupes, but she couldn’t care less.

“We’re chugging these, by the way,” Y/N informed Jason as she handed him a glass.

He sighed, but obediently clinked his glass with hers and tossed it back.

Barely giving them a second, Y/N immediately refilled them.

“So, why didn’t you come over and say hi?” She repeated.

“Didn’t want to bother you,” Jason mumbled with a shrug.

She narrowed her eyes at his answer. “You’ve never bothered me before, Jason.”

Now he felt guilty.

Jason bowed his head. “I should’ve come and talked to you,” he agreed. “Your work…it looked – it’s amazing, Y/N. Congratulations.”

Apparently Y/N hadn’t expected such a sincere compliment from him, and she was stunned to silence.

“Thank you,” she managed to whisper once she’d recovered.

She cleared her throat, trying to maintain her edge. “And really…thank you for being my own little security detail.”

If Jason was healthy about expressing is thoughts and feelings, he would’ve told her that it was the highlight of his weeks. That he looked forward to her calls or texts, telling him that she was going to photograph another shady area. “Be there or don’t. I’m going no matter what,” she’d text him with her usual snark.

But Jason didn’t express his thoughts and feelings.

He kept them bottled up – with the same energy he used to keep Y/N at a distance.

So instead, Jason said, “If it wasn’t me, one of the others would’ve done it.”

Y/N winced slightly at that.

‘You’re such a fucking asshole,’ Jason told himself.

“You know…we can see each other even you’re not my bodyguard.”

Jason was impressed by her boldness. But she didn’t know what she was doing. She didn’t understand that he wasn’t good. He couldn’t play the loving boyfriend role. She belonged with someone like Dick or Clark – or literally anyone but him. And Jason was willing to be an asshole to make sure she understood that.

Y/N took a step closer to him, invading his personal space.

Without breaking eye contact, she threw back her second glass of champagne and then placed it on the nearest counter space.

She stepped even closer.

This was simultaneously Jason’s worst nightmare and most desired dream.

Her eyes moved from his eyes to his lips.

But before she could make her final push, Jason took a step back and cleared his throat.

He looked down at the ground as he said, “You should go.”

When he looked up, he expected to find Y/N heartbroken or embarrassed.

But she was neither.

No. She looked irritated.

Not because she wasn’t getting what she wanted, but because she was sick of his games.

Y/N sighed and stepped back. “Fine.”

Jason rubbed his face in frustration as she grabbed her purse and started for the door she had walked through only minutes ago.

She opened it and paused.

“You know what? No. Fuck that,” Y/N snapped before slamming the door closed.

She whipped around and strutted back to him with purpose.

Jason was suspended with both fervor and awe.

Y/N grabbed his face and pulled him down to her lips.

All self control went out the window. Jason couldn’t continue his game. It was all over for him.

He kissed her back almost immediately. How could he not?

Y/N bit his lip slightly, making him hiss in surprise. It was his punishment for making her wait all this time.

Eventually they needed a moment to breathe.

But Y/N didn’t let go of his face when their lips finally parted.

“Choose your next words very carefully,” she breathed.

He swallowed nervously. “You’re kind of fucking terrifying. You know that?”

Her smile was pure evil.

Apparently this was the right response.

“Are you done being an idiot?” She asked.

He nodded quickly.

Her hands moved down and then lingered on his neck, tracing the bottom lines of his jaw.

She smiled again and then looked him up and down.

“What?” He questioned.

“Nothing,” she laughed. “I’m just…I’m not used to being shorter than men.”

“Is that the only reason you like me? Huh? My height?” Jason goaded.

“Of course not,” Y/N scoffed. “It was the whole ‘I look like I could murder everyone and I can, but deep down I’m a big softie’ that did it for me.”

Jason’s grip tightened on her waist. “Oh, yeah? You’re one to talk…”

“Me?!” She yelped. “I couldn’t kill anyone, even if my life depended on it.”

“Maybe. But your terrifying in basically every other way.”

Y/N laughed at that.

Jason couldn’t stop himself from smiling at the sound

“So…still want me to leave?” She asked.

And this time, she would if that’s really what he wanted.

“Fuck no,” Jason answered, almost threateningly.

Then, for good measure, he picked her up by the back of her thighs and carried her to the couch, before he started to kiss her once again.

Y/N knew things weren’t always going to be this simple.

Jason had his demons.

And honestly, so did she. They were nothing like his. And maybe they were silly in comparison. But she wouldn’t be the perfect partner. Just like he wouldn’t be.

They’d drive each other crazy. But it would be the good kind of crazy.

------------------------------

+ Childhood

#father of mine bonus content #father of mine #bruce wayne x daughter #bruce wayne x daughter!reader #batman x daughter #batman x daughter!reader #bruce wayne's daughter #batman's daughter #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd reader insert #red hood reader insert #clark kent x platonic!reader #superman x platonic!reader

2K notes · View notes

charleswaterloo · 4 years ago

Note

AGREED DO THE ULTIMATE FIC REC

Thank you so much for asking!! Okay, here we go!

DC fics that I got a few paragraphs into and already KNEW were going to be AMAZING:

1. The Jason Project by loosingletters

Warnings: Major Character Death

Jason had just wanted to see his autopsy report, he had only wanted to know what information Bruce had about his death. And when Bruce hadn't given it to him, he had stolen it. He hadn’t meant to stumble upon the bucket list of a dead child and the footage of a grieving father crossing one item after another off the list.

My thoughts: I don't often cry (which isn't healthy lmao) but this fic made me cry (happy tears!). It is absolutely wonderful and while angsty it has such a beautiful ending. I can't recommend it enough!

2. Little bird by Ididloveyou_once

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Tim knew he was fucked if only for the way that his brain was chanting Jason, like a litany. So he definitely didn’t need to hear the cold, mechanical chuckle or the chillingly delighted 'lucky me' to know that this was not good.

He took a second to look down at his coffee mournfully.

Then, he threw it at Hood’s helmet and bolted down the Tower corridor.

Or: Tim is supposed to be at Gotham Academy for a parent-teacher conference. Hood has other plans (Titans Tower AU).

My thoughts: One of the best Titans Tower AU fics I have ever had the pleasure of reading. The ending is to die for and so fluffy - it never fails to warm my heart <3

3. Straight to Voicemail by cabbagetop

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

“Red Hood. I need you to incapacitate Timothy Drake-Wayne.” “Aw, man,” Jason sighs, shouldering through the old wooden doors and out into the street with his books under his arm. “You and half the northern hemisphere. What’d he do this time?”

Jason's phone is blowing up about one Timothy Drake-Wayne (who is Jason's responsibility since when, exactly?). Jason comfort-eats. Jason suffers long. Jason reluctantly tries to keep this Raphus cucullatus of a human being alive, and maybe finds himself sidling back into the family while he's at it.

My thoughts: I was crying with laughter by the third sentence. If you want free serotonin, you will find it here folks, I guarantee it. Brilliantly written and hilarious and such a fantastic interpretation of Jason's character. Please read this lmao <3

4. miss me? by envysparkler

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Jason’s plan to observe his family’s reactions to his resurrection…does not go as intended.

My thoughts: I think I've recommended this one at least once before, but I will do so again because it is one of the best stories I have ever had the honour of reading on AO3. It has a happy ending, but was another fic which actually made me tear up. It is just beautiful and I'm sure some of you have read it before. Read it again even if you have - it's that good.

5. No Pain, All Gain by @sohotthateveryonedied

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Bruce checks Tim’s IV. “Are you in any pain? Do you need more morphine?”

Tim’s pupils are so wide that only the faintest ring of blue can be seen. He watches Bruce the way a five-year-old watches cartoons. “I’m all good, B-dog. All Gucci, like we cool teens say." His words are slurred almost beyond recognition, but Tim doesn’t seem to notice or care. "I could fight Superman right now.”

My thoughts: I know of only about 3 or 4 fics featuring Tim absolutely high out of his mind on some drug or another and this has got to be one of the absolute best of them. Whenever I feel the Depression(TM) crawling in and I need to laugh INSTANTLY I read this. It has not failed me yet. I can't recommend it enough it's so funny and a great read <3 The line below from the fic makes me scream laugh EVERY TIME:

“He’s not in his right mind.” “So? Neither are you half the time but you’re still in charge of everything.”

6. The Ouija Boy by SunnyBlue

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Timothy Drake was a stillborn baby. He was born dead, stayed that way for a solid five minutes, and was then resuscitated in the delivery room. He was a child who grew up alone, but for his imaginary friends. He had so many imaginary friends, in fact, that his parents sent him to get evaluated several times over the course of his childhood, which was spent with Tim as the only heartbeat in that house.

But that didn’t mean he was alone.

---

Tim sees dead people. When a Batboys murder investigation is going nowhere, he realizes his only chance at solving the case is to speak to the ghost of one of the victims. He has to reveal his secret to his brothers -- or risk the killer getting away.

My thoughts: STAND BACK FOR POSSIBLY ONE OF MY TOP TEN FAVOURITE FICS OF ALL TIME. I'm pretty sure I've recommended this one before but I will do so again. The story is impeccable, the mystery is ELITE and everything about it is literally perfect. I re-read this at least once a month so I can bask in its greatness and become a better person for having read it.

7. there but for the grace of god by TheResurrectionist

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

From a tumblr prompt.

AKA, "A Justice League fic where everyone argues about who's the most beautiful and intimidating sexy from the Big Three and everyone has valid points."

My thoughts: I'm going to let the note I added to the bookmark I made of this fic speak for itself. Here's what I wrote: "This was so funny - shoutout Jason for undeniable lad vibes plus the fact he felt he needed to neatly organise and write down the big three's sexiest traits."

8. American Ninja Worrier by DangerBeckett

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

It's just like Tim to give a poor college student a start in the business world. Kid's a bleeding heart, and usually, that's the sort of thing Jason avoids at all costs. He prefers his bleeding hearts on the literal side, and despite Bruce's best efforts, he's never had a head for business.

Unfortunately, though, this time the business is ninjas, and that's the sort of thing that makes Jason take notice. Because Bruce is useless, and someone's gotta make sure Tim's new internship program doesn't take down all of Gotham.

That's Jason's job, after all.

My thoughts: Please GOD just read the first few paragraphs. You'll know exactly what I mean when I say that this fic is it. Hilarious, badass and adorable. I mean, see the title of this fic rec. I just knew this fic was going to be amazing from the first line.

I have many, many more of course, but I'll leave this here for now as it's getting to be a pretty long post. Anyway, these are all fics - short and long! - that I knew were going to be absolutely perfect within the first few moments of reading. I hope you enjoy them as much as I did!

385 notes · View notes

flying-nightwing · 4 years ago

Text

Fluff Alphabet - Jason Todd

Hello guys! This is my first alphabet because I saw everyone do it and i wanted in. I took this alphabet. I had a lot of fun to indulge in Jason, because well. Do I need to explain?

Anyhow, enjoy this little thing inspired by my feelings for Jason Todd!

Disclaimer: This is my vision of the character and in no way an universal truth

Check out my masterlist in bio // pinned!

A = Attractive (What do they find attractive about the other?)

Your eyes. Jason could get lost in them by a simple glance. They say eyes are the windows to the soul, and he found it to be very true the second he met you. He will sometimes doubt he’s worth your love, but your gaze is enough to reassure him at every turn. He also can’t get enough of that spark that lights up when he makes you laugh, it draws him in. Your eyes are so kind and loving, the rest doesn’t really matter to him.

B = Baby (Do they want a family? Why/Why not?)

Let’s be truthful here, Jason is terrified of having kids. Everytime the discussion gets even close to the topic of family, he gets vivid images of his own father with him and it fills him with dread that he'll end up just like him. Then, he thinks about his lifestyle and how just being the Red Hood (or having been, as a matter of fact) could endanger his family. But I think deep down he craves having a family, having kids (whether they’re biologically his or adopted), because he’s just that natural caring person.

C = Cuddle (How do they cuddle?)

Continuing on that natural caring person wave, Jason will usually cuddle as the big spoon. His large frame makes it ridiculously easy for himself to wrap around you completely, and he loves to see you curled up around him, safe and comfortable in his arms. He likes to know he’s shielding you from any potential danger, it just eases his conscience. But sometimes he’ll have a bad day, or a rough patrol, and he’ll wordlessly slip in your hold in bed. It surprises you every time how small he can make himself, with his head on your chest above your heart and latched around your waist holding for dear life. Then, he’ll rely on you to make him feel safe, and he’ll fall asleep like that (he also likes when you play with his hair when he gets like that).

D = Dates (What are dates with them like?)

Jason is insanely romantic, nobody can prove me otherwise. With the amount of novels and books he read, it would be hard not to know how to be an exemplary lover. However, doing grand gestures in public and/or expensive shits is not his style. So it isn’t rare to come back home from your job after a tough week, to see Jason lighting up candles on a rose petals covered table, smiling at you and telling you to get changed in your pajamas and relax a bit before he finishes cooking (probably one of you favourite meals, or something new he knows you’ll like to surprise you). Dancing on your building’s rooftop or driving outside the city to take a walk under the stars are also his ideas of dates. It’s always something private and meaningful and a proof Jason is a hopeless romantic.

E = Everything (You are my ____ (e.g. my life, my world…))

“You are my reason to keep going on.” I believe at some point after he came back from the dead, Jason had a really hard time finding a reason to keep living (finding out he was replaced as Robin, that Batman didn’t kill the joker, etc…). He was in a really dark place and numb to everything. But then, he met you and suddenly life wasn’t so terrible. After a while, he even finds himself excited to get up in the morning (or early afternoon if he’s been on a long patrol) and smiling at random times. He wants to make an effort for you, because you deserve his best self and the least he can do is try (you still love him at his worst though, and he still can’t wrap his head around it but he’s insanely grateful for it).

F = Feelings (When did they know they were in love?)

One night, Jason woke up in sweats and screaming his lungs out. He had a nightmare where you were kidnapped and tortured by the joker the way he was; it was the first time you were the victim in his nightmares (usually it was faceless people or himself, and even sometimes his brothers. But never you). He found himself wanting to have you in his arms, needing to have you in his arms, and that’s how he knew it wasn’t just a crush anymore, that he was in deep with you.

G = Gentle (Are they gentle? If so, how?)

People have this misconception that Jason is rough, judging by the everything about him. But you would have never foreseen him to be so delicate and gentle with you. He is very strong and can be rash sometimes, but with his lover, he is always careful. He has enough pain and hurt in his life there is now way he’d put the most important person in his life through that. You have to almost beg him to be rough with you, and he’ll only let go if he’s 100% sure you’re okay with it.

H = Hands (How do they like to hold hands?)

Absolutely. He’s not big on PDA but he always wants to hold your hand, especially in public. He can get uncomfortable if there are too many people around, and the little subconscious squeezes of your hand never fails to bring him back to reality and help him focus on you instead of feeling trapped. Also he’s afraid of losing you in a crowd, even if he’s tall and could spot you easily. So yeah, his hand in yours is a constant.

I = Impression (What was their first impression?)

Depends on how you met really. It’s hard to say really, he might have seen you as an angel, or as a simple acquaintance until he discovered your character and you grew on him. He’s a versatile boy in the people he falls for.

J = Jealousy (Do they get jealous?)

Not jealous per say, but insecure. Everytime he sees you talking with someone who seems to be (subconsciously or not) flirting with you, he gets this feeling you’ll suddenly realize you could do much better than him and leave him for someone less broken, less messed up than him. It creeps in his chest and hurts like a heart attack, and it only dies down when you inevitably come back in his arms and look at him like he’s your world. Then, the storm dies and he knows he at least got one more day with you. And as much as the idea of Jealous Jason showing you who you belong to (wink wink) is appealing, I don’t think it would happen unless it has been established both of you were into that kind of foreplay and he knows for sure you’re in for the long haul with him. Then it becomes a game rather than an actual insecurity thing.

K = Kiss (How do they kiss? Who initiated the first kiss?)

Jason’s kisses are soft and wholesome. You can feel every ounce of love and admiration he has for you, and even if they do get emotional or even dominant at some points, it’s never forecefull. Who initiated the first kiss is nebulous, I think it was more of a mutual thing than an unilateral decision. I like to think it happened in a magnet effect, where both parties met halfway because Jason is a very respectful person in general (except if you piss him off for real) and he wouldn’t make you uncomfortable by kissing you without your consent.

L = Love (Who says ‘I love you’ first?)

It’s gotta be you. Jason, who’s afraid of saying it and getting rejected/mocked would definitely not want to get his feet wet first (what if you laugh? What if you leave?). He will show it in his way, but he’d wait for you to say the words first. But once it’s out there? Hooty hoot. He’ll say it like a mantra. He’ll never ever stop saying it at every occasion he gets.

M = Memory (What’s their favourite memory together?)

At the fair in your city. Spending the afternoon going from attraction to attraction, having fun in the small roller coaster you were pretty sure was one heavy loaded train away from toppling down. After sun down, you went from game booth to game booth, collecting small and colorful stuffed animals and eating everything sugary and fat you could get your hands onto. You were convinced you could beat the rigged shoot the duck game, and when you couldn’t, Jason stepped in and absolutely made the smug smirk drop from the guy’s face. You walked away with a giant Panda, sleepy as hell after you sugar rush, and Jason had to carry you out of the car bridal style. That picture you took on top of the ferris wheel is on his nightstand and is his favourite possession of his.

N = Nickel (Do they spoil? Do they buy the person they love everything?)

No, he’s not that kind of guy. I think he’s much more into meaningful acts and gestures than buying your love. He would sometimes spoil you if the occasion came to it, but I don’t think he’d be the type to open up his wallet as a demonstration of love.

O = Orange (What colour reminds them of their other half?)

Aqua blue. No other reason than the fact it’s probably the color the most opposite to red. While he absolutely loves to see you wear red things (it drives him crazy in the sweetest way), he doesn’t want to associate you with the darkest part of him. You’re the beautiful blue to his glaring red, because you’re the best thing in his life and he wants to outline and highlight you out as much as possible.

P = Pet names (What pet names do they use?)

I don’t think he has a signature pet name, he probably uses one that fits with the object of his affections and the history he has with them. He’d also be mindful of what you like and don’t like, and adjust them accordingly.

Q = Quaint (What is their favourite non-modern thing?)

Libraries. The old ones that smell of paper and leather. The ones with the shelves that climb up to the wall and the old worn seats that are just perfect to sit into and read for hours. Jason loves a calm environment and a quiet victorian library does the trick just well.

R = Rainy Day (What do they like to do on a rainy day?)

Read, cuddles, adult cuddles... ;) I think Jason likes rainy days because it gives him an excuse to spend time with you at home. He’d probably bake something in the afternoon and you might or might not turn it into a flour war, make a mess in the kitchen but make a bonding activity of cleaning it up after (he and you know when to be kids and when to be mature and you both respect the line, and that’s why it’s so fun). Rainy days are domestic days and nothing is more pure or adorable than domestic Jason. It’s a hill I’ll die on.

S = Sad (How do they cheer themselves/others up?)

That’s a tricky one, because when Jason spirals down he has trouble getting out by himself. But when you are down, Jason will go to hell and back to make sure you feel better. He’ll cook you your favourite thing, skip patrol to stay by your side, do a dumb tik tok dance to put a smile on your face or hear you laugh. He’d be attentive to your needs and do everything in his power to help you.

T = Talking (What do they like to talk about?)

Everything. Jason is a smart boy, he’d enjoy either talking about art, or about larger questions in the universe, or maybe about the birds that made a nest outside. Jason is incredibly easy to talk to when he’s receptive to the person talking to him, and that surprises anyone who knows him on the surface or less.

U = Unencumbered (What helps them relax?)

Massages, but only by you. He trusts you, he is as comfortable as he can get with you seeing him shirtless with his scars (no professional masseur/se will ever get up close to him), and with you touching him in perhaps more sensitive or vulnerable places. He’d close his eyes and let involuntary moans when you’d unknot the tension in his muscles (and you’d secretly enjoy having such a force of nature all putty and soft under your hands). Then it’d be cuddle time and he would be relaxed as he’s ever been.

V = Vaunt (What do they like to show off? What are they proud of?)

That’s simple: you. You’re his beautiful partner, the only one he has eyes for, so the world should see how great you are. He’d find a way to place you in every conversation, whether it would be to point out that hey, you can do that too, or because he just can’t shut up about you. That earns him infinite teasing from his family on how soft he is for you, but he can’t bring himself to care because he loves you so much.

W = Wedding (When, how, where do they propose?)

Jason wanted to marry you, and you had talked about it enough as a couple that he knew you wanted it too. But he wanted to wait for the right moment and he couldn’t plan that. The proposal probably happened at an unexpected moment, like when you tried to make him soup when he got injured and ended up messing it up bad. You came back to the couch and apologized to him profusely, and with stars in his eyes he asked you to marry him. Or when one of his enemies tried to take you while taking out the trash, but you chucked the garbage bag AND the metal lid to them, and Jason got down on one knee the second you finished recounting the story, out of breath from running back inside. The wedding was a private affair (Roy was his best man) somewhere quiet and meaningful, without too many artifices or big set up. It was perfect for you two.

X = Xylophone (What’s their song?)

This is a hard one. I feel like Jason would be into soul/jazz, in the style of Marvin Gaye, Nat King Cole or Frank Sinatra. To some extent he is a very old school person, and I believe music is one of the topics that falls into that old school side of him. It’s just a feeling, it’s how I imagine Jason. Unforgettable by Nat King Cole would be his to-go song when it comes to you.

Y = Yes (Do they ever think of getting married/proposing?)

Oh yea. Jaybird’s got the ring in mind as soon as he knew you were the one. See Wedding above.

Z = Zebra (If they wanted a pet, what would they get?)

I don’t think he’d want a pet, because he can be absent often, or he wouldn’t have enough time. But if he’d have to, he’d get a cat, I think. Walking a dog morning and night would get a little bit much, especially since sometimes he might have trouble getting out of bed after patrol. But a cat, a rescue stubborn older cat who has seen others, that would be a match. The cat would be distant at first, but one morning he’d wake up with his grump of a feline curled beside his pillow and purring, or after a rough day the cat would bring him its toy and Jason would just. Cry. Because this little creature became his friend. And it’s so pure. (Also Jason building cat trees and climbing installations for the cat? Satisfying image).

#Jason Todd #jason todd fluff alphabet #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #red hood x reader #jason todd imagine #red hood #red hood imagine #dc #dcu #dc universe #dc imagine #dcu imagine #dc universe imagine #batfam #batfam imagine #imagine #red hood x you #outlaws

560 notes · View notes

miss-choco-chips · 5 years ago

Text

The dangers of sugar coating

Dick tries to give his little brother nice things (and fucks up), Tim is paranoid (and too tired to think clearly), and Damian thinks they might actually be a good team (while they plot Santa Claus’ downfall).

(Beacuse @animemangasoul and I decided we’ve been too rough with Tim lately, so I tried to give him some batfamily fluff. Somewhere along the way I fucked up and ended with this. No edit, pure crack)

-----.------

-Before I tell you anything, you need to promise me you won’t get mad.

The Bruce of ten years ago, new to parenting and oblivious to its dangers, would have done his best to emulate any ‘How to be a good Dad- guide for new, utterly lost fathers’ book. Now, though, tired after raising Dick to semi-adulthood and still hurting over Jason’s… Jason, he knew better. Life had toughtened him up.

So he didn’t raise his eyes from his newspaper, and gave into the urge of sipping his coffee before humming under his breath. Not even the slightest show of acceptance over those terms.

If Dick was asking that, instead of hiding whatever this was or dealing with it himself, it meant the situation was either out of his control, bound to make its way to Bruce eventually, or both.

Probably both.

-Come on, B, just promise you won’t get all passive aggressive bitch on me. I did it for the greater good...

Another hum.

However, Dick has spent the same amount of time learning under his guide than he had raising him, so the younger was bound to develop some of his own tactics.

-...and I did it because Tim obviously needed it, so…

Warning bells ringing in his mind, Bruce gave up and shoot Dick a look. He didn’t seem overly guilty, so whatever this was, it probably wasn’t irreversible. But he was also shifting his weight from one leg to the other nervously, so… there was a catch here.

-What did you do?

-You didn’t promise.

-I won’t take your allowance away, but I may yell. It depends on how convincingly you make your case -compromise, he had learned after many, many mistakes, was as good a plan as any.

-Deal -then, quickly, like ripping off a bandaid:- I might have made Tim slightly more neurotic than he was. On accident.

The bells turned into firefighter’s sirens.

-What did you do?

They have had the fifteen year old living in the mannor for a few weeks at most. They couldn't possibly have already broken him, right?

Right?

Dick winced, but sat down by Bruce’s left (the side closest to the dining room’s window), which meant this was the only issue, but a hard to explain one.

-You see… We were talking, bonding over childhood memories and stuff, and… you know how christmas is just around the corner, and I asked him about Santa. I mean, obviously he doesn’t believe in that now, but the thing is, he never did.

-He’s too smart for that -growled Bruce, impatiente to get to the point and figure out just how much damage control would he be doing.

-No, his parents were too shitty. They were never there on Christmas, so no gifts under the tree unless he put them there himself, and whenever that happened, it was because his parents sent them and he wrapped them himself. Also no surprises, because he was the one asking for specific stuff. And I got a little sad, because how can a kid never believe in Santa? Like, come on. It’s part of the concept of childhood innocence. So...

Bruce waited a few beats, but Dick didn’t follow up. See, this was the moment where his parenting books would suggest waiting until the kid was good and ready for sharing his thoughts. But, since this was his younger child at stake here, he couldn't allow himself the luxury of letting a single second go.

-And? -he prompted, as gently as he could, trying not to spook Dick into abandoning ship.

-And I sort of… convinced him that Santa was real. Like, a full out super powered meta whose purpose in life was to bring joy to all of us. I texted Barbara and she planted some old looking reports on the batcomputer about it, to give credibility to the lie. I even drew parallels with Batman being thought of as a myth outside of Gotham to support the ‘Santa is real, people just don’t believe in him’ thing. And, after some hours of convincing and with Babs’ help, he bought it. So now, if Tim approaches you about it, you better back me up, because otherwise you would be ruining the last vestige of innocence Tim might still keep. Downside, though, Tim is now holed up in his bedroom searching the deep web for any Santa related info he can get his nerdy little paws on.

Silence in the room. Dick blurted out a goodbye and jumped out of the window. Bruce didn’t get up to check if he had landed safely on the other side. He probably had.

Tired, he looked down at his coffee. Black, just like he needed it now.

He should have stopped at zero children.

----.----

Cassie watched, with no small amount of unholy glee, as Tim thoroughly convinced both Kon and Bart of Santa’s existence. One a clone with little social understanding and the other from a very dark future, they were unsurprisingly easy to convince.

This was the kind of hilarious shit that made being in a superhero team worth it. All the life and death situations were balanced out by this kind of drama-like absurdity.

Even better was Tim’s completely fucked up perspective on the matter.

-So you’re saying Santa is not only real, but a deranged psychopath? Who’s probably both a pedofile and a mind controlling scumbag? -Kon tilted his head, both confused and esceptic.

Cassie did her utmost best to keep a straight face while nodding along, as if everything Tim had laid down in front of them made perfect sense.

-I thought it was stupid, too. But Dick showed me evidence, old reports, both handwritten and digital, and I found footage of Santa sneaking into the Manor when he was still young, deeply buried in the Batcomputer mainframe.

-Couldn’t that video be, you know… made up? -Bart asked, frown unusual on him firmly in place.

-If it was anywhere else? Sure. But this is The Batcomputer we’re talking about. Why would Batman have that kind of thing there? It was too heavily protected to be placed there as decoy for anyone hacking, not like they could ever get over Oracle’s firewalls. Besides, what reason would Batman have to invent this? I’m fifteen, I don’t need the ‘Santa fantasy’. The only believable answer is that Santa is real and very dangerous, and some people have taken his name for capitalism’s sake and made a holiday out of that and some religious backing, to get more people roped up into it. The true mastermind is obviously hiding somewhere out there, and the Christmas propaganda is merely a means to get funding for his devious plots.

Both metas hummed thoughtfully, Superboy even crossing his arms as he examined the pile of photos and papers Tim had laid out in front of them. Bart was nodding, hand cupping his jaw. The looked dead serious.

Cassie wanted to excuse herself to use the toilet (lead lidden because this was Gotham, specifically Tim’s secret place, so of course it was super-proof) so she could laugh her ass off, but the temptation of seeing this trainwreck to its fiery end was too strong.

It was taking up all of her amazonian training to keep her straight face, though. Diana would be so proud.

-I even searched the deep web for Santa related crimes, and looked up his name in disturbing forums. You wouldn't believe what some people, serial killers and rapists both, do using Christmas as a theme. I couldn't sort through it all, it was that sick.

Kon looked utterly disturbed- So what do we do now? Christmas is just around the corner!

Bart got up and started pacing back and forth- We need to hunt this dude down. Christmas is about goodness and family! We can’t let this, this… psychopath ruin it! Think about the children of the world!!

Oh god, this was getting even better.

-But how? The man sounds like a velocist of some kind, I mean, running and leaving gifts everywhere in the world in the span of a few hours? How are we even gonna catch him?

-Maybe if we dress up as Elves? -Cassie couldn't stop herself from suggesting, voice choked in her effort to be serious, but most likely interpreted by the boys as clogged up on rage- From what Tim wrote here -she raised a paper from the pile, hand shaking- it looks like they are his mind-controlled slaves. If he thinks we ran from his captivity, he might take us to the North Pole with him to brainwash us again… Oh, but I probably shouldn't dress up, so you know, I can be back up if he manages to catch you three…

-That’s a great idea! -Bart’s skinny arms wrapped themselves around her neck, and she took the chance to hide her face in his mane of hair, corners of her mouth twitching up.

-Should I also record it? -she asks, almost begging- In case people don’t believe us later, when we have to explain why we imprisoned Santa.

-Yes, I think that might be wise -Tim conceded, eyes scanning his papers again.

Thank the gods. That tape was going to be Cassie’s most precious treasure forever.

-I think he has a way of controlling people’s minds too. Like, parents and stuff. And then he makes them be the ones to give his children gifts in his name, as a way of gaining their trust. Sick fucker.

-So you think it’s a kinky thing for him?

-Kon, he literally categorizes kids as ‘good’ or ‘naughty’.

-You are right, we need to stop this bastard.

Cassie loved her boys so, so much. She also owed Dick Grayson the biggest high five.

----.----

Red Hood was just lighting up a cigarette when he saw Red Robin making his way to his rooftop. Cursing, he dropped the entire thing and kicked it away. The brat knew Jason smoked, but Dick had been on his ass lately about being a good brother, and he still felt kinda bad about trying to kill the kid twice, so he was actually trying to set a good example.

Besides, out of the two possible little brothers to take under his wing, he certainly drew the lucky ticket, because while Dickie had gotten stranded with the pompous brat, Jason had the all around good kid circling his radar more often than not. Like, Tim had broken him out of prison, a little after Jason had done his best to end his life; he couldn't get more forgiving and nice than that. It certainly beat making a murder League child let go of his katana on a nightly basis.

-I need your help.

He blinked. While they certainly had worked cases together in the past, they were always preluded by some kind of smalltalk, little banter, at least a ‘hello’. Not this straight to the point bullshit.

He had the urge to take out his guns, to protect them both of any threat following Red Robin here. He refrained.

-What’s the matter, babybird? What’s wrong?

Tim looked almost frazzled. The cowl was hanging around his neck, just a domino preserving his identity, and his hair was a knotted mess. Disveleshed was too little a word for his state.

-We need to make a plan to catch Santa Claus before Christmas this year. His reign of terror must end. It’s still not too late.

Yeah, okay, he might need that cigarette after all, to hell with Dick’s bitching. Besides, how bad of a influence could that be, when this kid was obviously already on some kind of drugs? Like, Santa? Really?

-What… do you mean?

What followed was an hour long rant on the dangers of a super powered, evil version of the myth that Tim had somehow cooked up on his mind.

Was this real? The kid looked far too distraught for a joke.

-… Does Nightwing know about this? -whatever ‘this’ was- Bats?

Tim shook his hands frantically. Jason was legit getting worried.

-N was the one who told me about Santa -there, he knew this smelled like a Golden Boy trademark fuck up-, but he seems to be under his spell. Bruce as well. They tried to convince me he is some kind of good-hearted samaritan. Jason -he stated, breaking the no names during patrol rule, a show of just how deep into the rabbit hole he was- you wouldn't believe what I found on the deepweb. Joker’s yearly special seems tame in comparison.

That, Jason could believe. But he was also fairly sure you could type about any word in the darkest side of the net, and find half a dozen kinky or deranged things that matched. Santa-temed crimes? More likely than anyone would believe. Real life Santa doing the deed? Not so much.

Tim had been too young when Dick lied to his face, most likely. And nowadays, the young vigilante was running on three hours of sleep on a good week. And it wasn’t even too far fetched to believe, on their line of business, specially when dealing with metas and supervillains day in and day out.

Still…

-Kid, I don’t know how to tell you this, but… Santa isn’t real -he told him, slowly, hands raised as if to touch his shoulders but not daring to actually make contact. Tim looked so manic he might actually nerve strike him.

The icy blue eyes were hidden under his mask, but Jason knew from the way he tensed that Tim was terrified.

-He got to you, too -he whispered, almost too softly for him to hear. Then, without giving Jason the chance to inquire further, he turned tail and disappeared into the night.

....

He really needed that cigarette.

----.----

When Drake told the family he was taking Damian under his wing for a case, everyone seemed so happy he couldn't just shoot the other man down. Besides, reluctant as he was to admit it, Red Robin was the superior detective in the entirety of the team, so there would be rewards for taking the blow to his pride and working with him.

He expected to be directed through some easy case, maybe a little puzzling but not too challenging. Or be sidelined while Drake worked through things, so he could learn by example.

This, though, this he hadn’t foresaw.

This case was way more serious.

-How come Father has allowed this depravancy to continue?! -exclaimed Damian, hands gripping the sheets of information tightly- This ‘Santa’s’ influence has been permitted to cement on too many people already! And it keeps growing!

-I know. Fuck, I know. But I can’t get anyone to help me. My team knows, but sadly we aren’t enough. Bruce and Dick don’t believe me, and neither does any other hero I contacted on the matter. It’s just like when B was missing in time; they either think I’m crazy, or try to sugarcoat things, like they would with a baby.

Damian snorted, disbelieving. Whatever his opinion might be on his predecessor, he at least knew to trust his insight in a case. Grandfather himself had recognized his genius on that field.

They were on Drake’s perch, his center of operations outside of Batman’s influence. He would never admit it out loud, but if Damian ever needed his own batcave, it would be just like this one.

Now, the long table in front of him was completely covered in information, case reports, photos taken from live footage, deepweb forums’ conversations, history books…

-And you say this… monster, targets children?

-I mean, he brainwashes the parents too, but that seems like a plot to both increase his economic funds and to gain the children’s trust.

-How are you so sure they are his objective?

-The parents tell their children Santa is ‘always observing them’, and ask if they ‘have been good’ that year. If they aren’t perceived as obedient, Santa leaves them coal, which incentives them to do their best to change that by next year’s christmas.

-Maybe the coal and gifts have mind control devices, or some magic?

-My thoughts exactly.

Damian frowns even deeper. He’s glad Drake is taking his detective training seriously, but if father himself is being deceived, he wonders what can the two of them (plus Drake’s team) do.

-What about Todd? Red Hood is proclaimed as Saint Protector of Children in Crime Alley, after all. He certainly has opinions about this ‘Santa’ person.

Timothy shakes his head- He got Jason too. I suspect he’s been under his control ever since he was a child at the manor.

-So, we are alone in this.

-Essentially, yes. Thankfully, not everyone celebrates christmas. Some religions flat out forbid it, so we won’t have as much ground to cover when we lay out a trap. We could choose a close by location and plan around it.

He nods, back straight with purpose. He -and Drake, he supposes- would be freeing Father and Grayson, along with the rest of the victims, from this madman’s control. Maybe even Todd, if he has the time.

-I’m with you on this endeavor, Drake.

-Good. Remember we need to act natural in front of the family. If Santa catches wind of what we’re doing, he might focus his efforts in getting to us.

Damian wants to say to let him come, he would show him why it's a bad idea to mess with his family. But Drake is, admittedly, the superior detective, and it seems he’s been working on this for a long time now. Damian will defer to his judgement this one time.

Drake’s superior knowledge and Damian’s unrivaled training might be what’s needed to orchestrate this ‘Santa’s’ downfall.

They will be a good team, he thinks.

#My writing #Tim Drake #batfamily #Batfamily Fanfic #core four #Dick grayson #Bruce Wayne #cassie sandsmark #kon el kent #conner kent #bart allen #jason todd #Damian wayne #this is just crack guys #Tim thinks Santa is out to get everyone #he's a tired boy okay #no edit #tw: mentions of child abuse #nothing graphic just Tim doing typical comic book research

266 notes · View notes

morthern · 4 years ago

Note

Here's a scenario I hope you may like. A bloated Jason Todd donning his Red Hood outfit just moaning and burping while an unknown pair of hands strokes the swollen gut. Jason had worked up a big appetite after several hours of training and the mystery person who is rubbing his stomach just happened to have a set of big juicy hamburgers at that time. Now, after eating like a pig, Jason's typically muscular waist had filled up into a plump and soft belly peaking through his shirt. Naval exposed...

Who the fuck is Jason Todd?

Here’s a nice disclaimer for yall.

I do not draw kink art of actual people, actors, or copyrighted characters.

if you have a fan character that belongs in someone else's universe or whatever, sure. why not. But canon characters are off the list.

i have zero interest in kink stuff of superheroes, cartoon characters, anime characters, or whathaveyou. zilch.

That being said. I'm all for getting these lil blurbs and scenarios in my inbox, it's sweet, sometimes I might draw it.

But at least word them with like, character A and character B if you feel like you don't have the time or effort to look at my blog for long enough to pick up the names of the two characters i draw stuffing and belly kink with.

#motalk #anon #setting it straight and nipping it in the bud #Anonymous

14 notes · View notes

psychovigilantewrites · 5 years ago

Text

Chapter 11 - Fireworks/Gunpowder

Pairing: Jason Todd/ Reader

Genre:Smut

Wordcount: 10,348

A/N: Hey guys! GOD I've been looking forward to write this chapter ever since I first published this fic a year ago, and I took my time with it, and tried to perfect it as best as I could according to my current capabilities. I hope you guys like it! Please leave your thoughts! I’d love to hear what you guys think of it!

TW: sexual content, mental breakdowns

Masterlist

“I’m sorry I’m late,” you breathed out before Jason could even open his mouth, “I would say that school held me back, but actually I lost track of time.”

You wanted to minimize your lying to him, since you had to hide a huge part of yourself from him already.

“That’s alright, sweetheart,” he grinned at you.

You sat down opposite him at the cafe. The table Jason had chosen was one in the back, away from the large glass walls up front with the view of the street.

Jason was wearing a tight black t-shirt that day and a black leather jacket over it. The leather immediately made you think of Red Hood, but you tried to shove that thought away. It was rude to think of another man while you were with someone you were casually dating, after all.

“Do you want me to get you anything?” he asked, gesturing to the counter.

“That’s alright, I’ll go get something myself,” you made to get up.

“Now what kind of gentleman would I be if I let you order your own drink?” he stopped you, flashing you a lopsided smile, “Tell me what you usually get, I’ll go and order it for you. Please?”

He looked at you with his pleading blue eyes, which made you give in almost instantly.

“Alright,” you conceded, “I’ll just have a black coffee, then. Thank you.”

“One black coffee comin’ right up,” he winked, heading to the counter.

You watched him as he walked over, noticing the subtle glances some women from the other tables were giving him. He stood out mainly because of his build, but you thought that his face was your favourite part of him.

You didn’t mean to be shallow, of course. He was kind, funny, and charming as well. And as you just found out, a gentleman.

He came back with your coffee, and you thanked him again.

“Firstly, Jason,” you began, “I’m sorry for replying you so late. Two days late, to be exact.”

“No, that’s alright,” he shrugged it off, “I’m sure you had a good reason.”

“I was going through some… stuff,” you cringed at your own excuse.

“Stuff?” he smirked.

“And things,” you added, “Personal things. Family things. You get me?”

“Sure,” he acknowledged, “Like I said, I’m sure you had your reasons. But, if you want to talk about it, you know I wouldn’t mind lending you an ear.”

“I feel like I’ve been dumping too much on you,” you shook your head, “Like that time at the park too, god. It was so embarrassing.”

“One, that was over a month ago,” he reminded you, “And two, it wasn’t. Don’t be afraid to express yourself with me.”

He looked at you with an intensity you couldn’t tear your eyes away from.

“All of yourself,” he added, “I won’t judge.”

You were taken aback at his sudden seriousness. But when he reached his hand out to gently rest on yours, for some reason, you expected his hands to feel like the smooth cold leather of the gloves Red Hood wore.

You willed your thoughts to stay on the man in front of you.

“Thank you,” you said, “But this time it’s not something I should be discussing with anyone. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” he answered, “It’s up to you if you want to tell me or not. All I’m saying is that if you need to talk to anyone, I’m here.”

You smiled at him in thanks.

“ Also,” he added, “You were doing some MMA?”

He lifted your hand closer to inspected your bruised knuckles.

“No,” you gave a shaky laugh, “Since I was going through some things, I needed to find an outlet. So I went berserk on a punching bag.”

It was the closest and most honest thing you could say to him.

“I see,” he chuckled and gave you a knowing look, something you thought was odd. You hadn’t missed the way he was smirking the whole time you were there.

“I’m sorry,” you hesitated, “But am I missing something here?”

“What?” he frowned.

“I feel like you know something I don’t,” you tried to explain, “Like there’s an inside joke I’m not getting.”

“Why would you think that?” he leaned forward and smiled suspiciously.

“See, you’re doing it again!” you laughed.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, princess,” he grinned, “This is how I always look.”

“Huh,” you narrowed your eyes playfully at him.

“Did I mention how beautiful you look today?” he complimented.

“Way to change the subject,” you chuckled, “But thank you. I put in effort whenever I know I’m seeing you.”

You blushed the minute you realised what you just said.

“Uh- I meant-” you tried to backtrack.

“Too late to go back on your words now, sweetheart,” he chortled, “That’s okay, I kind of make an effort when I know I’ll be seeing you as well.”

“Oh, really?” you doubted. You thought he just naturally looked good all the time, which includes the first day you bumped into him in the library.

The library.

Jerome Miller.

Blood. Adrenaline rush. Excitement. Guilt.

You pushed it all away for now and tune back into your conversation.

“Oh, you have no idea,” his eyes suddenly darkened, his smile gone.

But within an instant, he gave you his smug grin again.

He loved to tease you.

“You know,” you started, “You never told me your last name. Is there something you’re hiding from me?”

“No, you just never asked,” he replied, “It’s Haywood.”

“Jason Haywood,” you tried, “Has a ring to it, don’t you think?”

“I never cared much for it,” he shrugged, “My first name is extremely common. My last? Nothing special. Nothing like Wayne.”

“Please, it’s all just legal anyway,” you waved your hand, “Not like I’m a Wayne by blood.”

“Still, Bruce Wayne is your father,” he pointed out.

“Don’t say that too loud,” you shushed him, “I’m not at the point where people would recognize me in the streets, but one Google search and I’d have people taking pictures of the both of us and sell it to the tabloid papers.”

“Ah, yes, I can see the headlines already,” he joked, “Billionaire Bruce Wayne’s daughter seen with a nobody. You wouldn’t believe number five!”

“A newspaper headline isn’t clickbait, Jason,” you giggled. You were impressed. Only a few months ago, he didn’t know what Instagram was.

“I’m real proud of you, you know,” he suddenly told you, making another 180 turn in subject. He looked at you with a curious glint in his eye.

“For what?” you asked, sipping on your coffee.

“For being you,” he gave you a cryptic answer.

You raised an eyebrow in question.

“You don’t try to hide yourself from me,” he elaborated, “You cry in front of me, laugh in front of me, joke with me, and you let your inhibitions go when you’re with me.”

Your eyes widen at the last one, knowing what he was implying.

“ As a Wayne,” he continued, “I’m sure you need to lie and smile to keep up appearances. But you’re yourself with me. Thank you.”

You blushed as your heart melted at his words. This was one of the reasons you liked him. He was a smooth talker, charming you with random bursts of surprisingly well thought insight.

“I don’t know what to say,” you tucked your hair behind your ear nervously.

“How about ‘Jason, I think you’re a sexy beast, and I’d totally tap that ass’,” he jestered.

“You see, I know you’re just joking, but I wouldn’t be if I were to say that to you,” you replied smugly.

Jason paused, narrowing his eyes at you.

“Someone learned how to flirt,” he smirked.

“I learned from the best,” you breathed.

You saw the way his eyes darted from yours, to your lips, and then back to your eyes again.

“My brother, actually,” you broke the moment on purpose.

He chuckled at your transition.

The hours went by as you talked and flirted with him, all the while still noticing how he was smirking the whole way, as if he knew something about you that you didn’t.

*** God, you turned Jason on so much.

It was obvious you were still messed up and shocked over your own actions, but when Jason saw your bruised knuckles, he almost popped a hard on right then and there in the crowded cafe.

He wanted so much to witness you beating the shit out of Jerome Miller. He could only imagine how your face and hands must have been covered in blood.

Jason never had a blood kink before this, but somehow the thought was so erotic to him, he would be lying if he didn’t go back and jerk off to that fantasy right after the visit to the hospital.

The only downside to all of this was that he was growing increasingly excited, which meant he was increasingly impatient. He found it extremely frustrating to have to keep lying to you. He just wanted you to figure everything out already so he could finally be direct.

So he could finally take you like he knew you wanted him to.

But since he was the king of the underground now, he had to focus on his work, and he was doing a fan-fucking-tastic job at it. He could guarantee with absolute confidence that Gotham’s underground had never been as organized before.

He wasn’t only controlling crime through fear, but he was providing small jobs to those who would have otherwise got involved with real bad shit that would hurt innocents.

Jason was Gotham’s fucking savior.

And he wore that red bat on his chest with pride.

Jason didn’t need you to be his Queen, but he wanted to.

Not because he craved you- but because it would be the last blow to Batman’s legacy.

At least, that’s what he was trying to convince himself.

*** The glaring red ink on your paper reminded you of the blood that you tried so hard to wash off.

You stared hard at the large, capital B written on your history test. It wasn’t your only B. You got a B minus for math, a B plus for biology and physics, and an A minus for chemistry, amongst other subjects.

You maintained a neutral face. You couldn’t let anyone around you read you.

“I guess I don’t need to ask what you got, huh Wayne?” Michelle Myers rolled her green eyes at you from her desk, flipping her auburn hair to the side.

“You’d be surprised, Michelle,” you smiled at her sweetly. You knew she always viewed you as competition when it came to academics, sports, and even social media follower count. You didn’t get why. You always thought she was prettier, more feminine than you. “I’m only human, you know.”

“So what you got?” Robert Laheigh cut in.

“A big fat B,” you sighed.

“Woah, a B? You?” Robert gasped dramatically.

“Way to rub it in, Rob,” you chuckled, “I guess I got distracted by some stuff.”

“Oh yes, it must be so hard to be you, daughter of the richest guy in Gotham,” Michelle snickered.

You looked at Michelle with a cold smile, and thought about wiping that smug look off her face by smashing her head onto the wooden desk.

“Hey, don’t be like that,” said the blond jock, “I’m sure whatever she’s going through is legit. You don’t know her life. And she did just get kidnapped.”

“Of course, Rob, how rude of me,” Michelle sneered at him, “I forgot how much you like to suck up to her.”

Rob was Michelle’s ex-boyfriend. He dumped her because he apparently started having feelings for another girl in class. Who the mysterious girl was, you didn’t know. But shortly after that, Michelle started to become more and more hostile towards you.

“It’s fine, Rob,” you assured him, “She’s right. I’ve really got no excuses.”

Besides the fact that you’ve been reliving the night you beat someone half to death for the past two weeks, slowly getting numb to the memory.

Besides the fact that Bruce had been acting suspiciously nice to you despite suspending your patrols for the next month until you got yourself together.

Besides the fact that Jason had been kind to you, beaming almost proudly ever since you saw each other at that cafe two weeks ago, but all you could think about when he happened to brush himself against you was how you craved Red Hood’s touch instead.

But Michelle was right, you neglected your studies and didn’t have any excuses.

Rob pursed his lips and walked over to your table, leaning down to you.

“Hang in there, okay?” he frowned in concern, “If you need to talk, about anything, I’m here for you.”

You flashed him a charming smile, “Of course, Rob. I appreciate it. Thank you.”

You saw his cheeks get red, and he straightened up, clearing his throat.

Right.

Now you know why Michelle Myers hated you so much.

***

Your gaze was unfocused, just looking outside the window of the car.

Michelle never got to you like that before. You usually ignored it and brushed her off. But suddenly you got so annoyed by her fucking face that you really wanted to mess it up.

“What’s wrong, my dear?” Alfred glanced at you from the rearview mirror of the sleek BMW, breaking your thoughts.

“Nothing, Alfred,” you smiled at him, “I got my papers back. I didn't do very well.”

“To maintain a balance is a difficult feat,” he said, “Your older brothers went through the same thing. Though, a teacher once complained that Master Todd’s grades were too perfect.”

You didn’t miss his subtle sad tone when he mentioned Todd. Oddly, it didn’t sound as sad as he usually did when he spoke of your predecessor.

But it didn’t change the fact that you really didn’t want to talk about Todd and how perfect his grades were.

You were silent the whole ride back.

“Master Bruce wishes to speak to you in the Cave,” Alfred informed you when you got out of the car. “I suggest you prepare yourself for his news.”

“What do you mean?” you frowned in question.

“It’s best if he explains,” Alfred gave you a tired smile. He looked like he hadn’t slept all night.

You shrugged and went inside, dumping your bag of books onto the sofa of the living room as you made your way to the grandfather’s clock to descend below. You were nervous. Maybe Bruce has decided to lift your suspension, or maybe Bruce has decided that he was better off without you as Robin.

Whatever it was, your heart beat in rhythm to your quick steps down the stairs.

You approached Bruce from behind, he was seated at his regular spot in front of the massive computer screens. This time though, instead of displaying an array of his cases, old articles,or his own notes, it was just blank.

You gulped. He was really going to ask you to quit wasn’t he?

“Hey, Bruce,” you let out a shaky breath, “Alfred said you wanted to talk?”

“Yes,” he nodded, his face more solemn than you’ve ever seen before, “Sit.”

Oh no, you thought, one word replies and commands.

You pulled up a wheeled chair and sat obediently in front of him.

“Firstly,” he began, “I’m sorry. For keeping you in the dark this whole time. I needed to process the information, and make sure. And it was… difficult for me to come to terms with the truth. I’ve only just told Alfred last night.”

“What are you talking about?” you questioned slowly, your previous worries disappearing.

“What do you know about multiverses and alternate realities?” Bruce asked you.

“Uhm, what?” you were taken aback by his seemingly random question, “Are you serious?”

Bruce simply looked at you.

“Uhm,” you tried, “I know just enough from sc-fi movies and comic books?”

“Well, it’s more science than fiction,” Bruce stated.

“Okay,” you nodded slowly, still not understanding his point, “And?”

“Certain events caused by certain… individuals,” he struggled with his words, “May cause certain effects onto our world and reality. In this case, bringing back the dead.”

“What, our next mission involves zombies or something?” you smirked.

“I’m being serious,” he deadpanned.

“Right. Sorry,” you quickly added.

“Do you know what the Lazarus Pit is?” he asked another odd question.

“Sure,” you nodded at the familiar name, “That’s how Ra’s Al Ghul is immortal. It makes you not age.”

“It also heals unhealable injuries,” Batman added.

You frowned again. “Where are you going with this, Bruce?”

“Red Hood is Jason Todd,” he blinked.

You blinked back.

“Excuse me, what?” you exclaimed. “Bruce, how did you jump from alternate realities and the lazarus pit to- oh my god.”

Finally, your mind clicked.

“That’s- no,” you shook your head, “That’s not possible. You’re fucking with me, aren’t you? This is some sort of weird test.”

He pursed his lips, and then turned to the computer. He pulled up some sort of biochemistry result on screen. One side was Red Hood’s blurred CCTV photo, and the other, a young dark haired boy smiling brightly at the camera. You recognized him from the one or two pictures on display in the Manor.

“I ran a DNA test from a blood sample I acquired from Red Hood one of the days where I confronted him,” Bruce explained, “I had my suspicions based on the things he had said, and the knowledge he had of us, but I couldn’t confirm it until I ran the test. Even after that, I had to make sure.”

“And?” you demanded.

“And that’s it,” he finished, “Red Hood is Jason Todd.”

Your mind was racing.

“I understand if you have trouble comprehending it,” Bruce offered.

“No, shit,” you scoffed. You were at disbelief. It made zero sense, yet all the sense in the world.

“But, if it’s Jason Todd,” you looked at him, “Then why is he bad?”

“He’s angry with me,” Bruce explained. He had pain in his eyes. “He’s angry with me for not killing Joker, and for… you.”

“Replacement,” it dawned onto you, “Child soldiers being thrown away and replaced by new ones. That’s what he meant.”

“Exactly,” Bruce nodded, “But I think the Pit had something to do with fueling his anger as well. It’s naive to think that the dead can be brought back without… alterations.”

“It makes so much sense now. Why he’s been targeting me. He hates me for replacing him, he-” you looked at Jason Todd’s picture.

Oh.

Oh. You really were stupid. You were a complete idiot.

You didn’t make the connection before, because it didn’t make sense to you. Jason Todd was dead, so your brain did not see any sort of similarities between him and your Jason.

But now that you were staring at the picture of the smiling boy, you could see it. They looked different, very different, but no one could mistake the two if they stared long enough.

Todd was very young in the picture, but even at that age you could see the developing deep set eyes and heavy brows. Their noses were the same, except your Jason’s nose had probably been broken more than a few times. Todd’s skin was clear of scars, and had a more radiant complexion as compared to your Jason’s. Jason’s jaw was more squarish and developed, but their smiles were still the same side smirk.

You thought that Jason had smelled of fireworks. But really, it was-

“Gunpowder,” you whispered out loud to yourself.

“What?” Bruce asked.

“Nothing, I just- it’s a lot to process,” you told him.

Why weren’t you telling him anything?

“I understand,” he acknowledged, “If you have any questions, I promise I will answer them all truthfully. No more secrets.”

You looked at the man who adopted you only three months after his son’s death, and saw how he was trying to make things up to you, his concern about you.

“What was he like?” you asked, “I know I’ve asked you this before. I’ve asked Dick, too. And Alfred. But I felt like everyone was just too sad about it to tell me much. So I’m going to ask you again now that he’s back.”

“He was efficient, and he learned very quickly-”

“Not as Robin, Bruce,” you interjected, “How was he like at home when he had nothing to do? Did he go out with friends? What was his favorite flavor? That kind of stuff.”

Bruce fell silent for a moment, the crease between his brows deepening.

“He liked to read,” Bruce said, “I don’t know if you’ve been into his room, but we kept it exactly how it was all those years ago. All those books on his shelf- he read them all. Some more than once. He was very organized and tidy. Cleaned his room so that Alfred didn’t have to.”

You noticed him smile ever so slightly as he recalled the memory.

“He had some friends, but I’m not sure about a girlfriend,” he continued, “He was secretive. He was more quiet than Dick, but happy all the same. Until he got a bit confident, then he became reckless.”

“He angered easily,” Bruce sighed, “He was rash. He acted first without thinking of the consequences later. I remember having lots of arguments with him. There were many weeks where he wouldn’t speak to me unless it was a serious question regarding patrol. But he was good. He’s always been good.”

“I’m sure he still is, Bruce,” you sympathized with him. The Jason you knew was kind to you, but Red Hood- he was a different story.

Was it all a lie? Was the Jason you knew just a persona to use and manipulate you?

Just tell him, your inner thoughts screamed at you.

“So what now?” you asked.

“He’s been very careful with his operation,” Bruce explained, “I need to confront him. I need to talk to him.”

Fucking tell him, your conscience insisted.

Tell him what? That you were dumb enough to not be suspicious of a mysterious man who charmed his way into your life at the same time a new villain came to town?

You were so fucking naive.

“We need to do some interrogating. Maybe he has a base for operations-”

At the same time Bruce started explaining the plan to you, your phone dinged, causing you to jump slightly.

You ignored it, and looked apologetically at him.

“Once we find out, we try to corner him to talk. I might need to get Dick-”

Your phone dinged again.

“- to help. I haven’t told him yet-”

And for one last time, your phone dinged.

Bruce raised an eyebrow at you.

“I’m sorry,” you said sheepishly, “Let me silent it. Hold on.”

You unlocked your phone to see three consecutive messages from Sexy Hunk From Library.

Your heart sank to your stomach.

You put your phone on silent and put it away.

“Who is it?” Bruce asked, “If it’s urgent, we can continue this later.”

“No!” you accidentally raised your voice, “Ahem, I mean, no. It’s just a boy.”

“A boy?” he repeated, “You’ve been talking to a boy?”

“Yeah,” you admitted, extremely careful with your body language and choice of words, “Just a boy I met at the library. Sorry- he’s not important.”

Bruce looked at you for a moment, and then- “I’m still not relieving you of your suspension. I will have Dick with me for now while I investigate. You have two weeks left until I allow you to be back in uniform. As of now, training.”

“Yeah,” you sighed and close your eyes, squeezing the bridge of your nose, “It might do me some good. My grades are horrible. I have to catch up.”

“Good,” he nodded curtly, “Use your time wisely. And do not confront Red Hood alone.”

“Why would I do that, Bruce?” you asked exasperatedly, “Now I know who he really is, it’d be stupid of me to do so. This shit he has against us is fucking personal.”

“As long as you realise that, then fine,” he answered.

You nodded before adding, “Are you going to tell Dick over the phone?”

“No, I’ll have him come here,” he replied, “It’s the proper way. Dick will- he won’t take it as well as you did.”

“Well, I never knew the guy, so,” you shrugged, the thought of the Jason you did know, acted like an anchor on your heart. “I’m going to take a nice long bath. It’s been an intense day.”

“Take as long as you need,” he nodded, turning away to reach for his phone to dial Dick, “I think we’ll investigate Otisburg first. His previous base of operations was there, perhaps we could find some of his men.”

“Let me know how Dick takes it,” you waved, walking back.

*** You climbed into the steaming water, scented with vanilla and sighed deeply.

You stared at your phone which you put on the drying mat on the floor next to the tub, your notifications still on the screen. You gulped, and reached for it, careful not to drop in the water and read what Jason had sent you.

Sexy Hunk From Library: Hey Sexy Hunk From Library: What’re you up to? Sexy Hunk From Library: I’m so bored

You couldn’t help how the corners of your lips twitched upwards, and then you frowned again, thinking of how to deal with your dilemma.

Why couldn’t you just tell Bruce like what was expected of you? Was there a part of you that didn’t want Red Hood caught, or was it because you had fallen for Jason?

Or was it because you liked that your Jason was Red Hood?

You let out a loud groan of frustration.

Of course you didn’t like that the two were the same people. Because Jason had manipulated you, lied to you, and probably would have sabotaged you.

Yet, you didn’t feel angry. You just felt immensely sad for yourself, but most of all for him.

He had hid his true self from you so well, but now that you know who he was, and what he was going through, you just wanted to help. He was a Robin after all, and even if you hadn’t met him prior to this, you felt obligated to connect with him.

You decided to reply.

You: Hey. I just got back from school. I’m just soaking in the tub now.

You blinked in surprise when you received a video call from him instead. You made sure that your chest was submerged in water and hesitantly picked up.

“Sorry, I couldn’t resist when I heard that you were naked,” you saw him grin cheekily on the screen. He was in bed, judging from the blue pillows he had propped up behind him.

“I bet that’s what you say to all the girls,” you tried hard to smile and seem normal.

But he had caught on and frowned. “What’s wrong? I’m sorry, I can hang up if you want your privacy.”

“No, it’s not you,” you lied, “I just got my exam results back. They weren’t as good as usual. Fucking Michelle Myers looked so smug about it.”

“Is she like the popular mean girl who’s secretly jealous of you?” he guessed.

“I guess she is,” you chuckled, but your smile faltered again soon after.

“If you want to talk about it, I’m here,” he offered.

You pursed your lips in hesitation, thinking carefully about your next words and actions.

“Actually,” you said, “Could I meet you tonight? I’m- I’m not alright. I just need to talk to someone.”

“Tonight?” he frowned, pausing for a moment.

Of course. Night time was Red Hood time. He was probably busy when he didn’t have to seduce and manipulate you.

“Sure,” he finally agreed, “Where?”

“Really?” you were taken aback. Why would he neglect his own responsibilities to see you?

“Of course,” he insisted, “I told you that I’d be here for you whenever you need. I mean it.”

Now you were confused. Why was he so committed to gaining your trust?

“O-okay,” you smiled, this time for real. “Do you think we can meet at Robinson Park? Around nine thirty?”

Bruce would usually leave for patrol at 9.

“I’ll see you there,” he responded.

***

You looked at yourself in the mirror. You had specifically chosen to wear a baby pink sweater over a white collared shirt, buttoned all the way up with a grey plaid skirt that fell to your knees. You needed to look innocent and non-threatening. You kept your makeup light and your hair simple.

You took one of the less conspicuous of Bruce’s cars which happened to be one of the newer Mini Cooper models. It was the least sporty, least big, least out of place. You could blend in well with everyone else when driving that car.

You told Alfred you were going out to meet a friend, in which he responded with an almost offensive shocked expression, and then proceeded to endlessly tell you to have fun, and to not worry about coming back too early.

The traffic was lighter than usual, and the sky clear- the full moon shining high. You parked at Robinson Park’s open parking space and took a deep breath before grabbing your small purse and getting out of the car.

You checked your phone.

Jason was already there because he had sent you a text message saying which bench he was sitting at. Recognizing his description, you started walking towards him, your heart thumping louder and louder with every step.

“Hey,” you called out when you saw him from behind, sitting on the bench. He was wearing his red hoodie and jeans.

You recognized that hoodie all too well now.

He turned around and smiled widely at you, expecting you to sit next to him.

“Uhm,” you nervously said, “Do you think we could go somewhere more private?”

“Somewhere more private, huh?” he winked, making you giggle. You calmed your nerves down a bit, but still remained careful and vigilant.

“Not like that!” you laughed, “It’s just- going out with a guy at night, if anyone were to recognize me, I’d be in trouble.”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” he stood up. Suddenly his height and broad shoulders, the only thing you could see under the loose clothes, started an alarm in your head, reminding you of how easily he could overpower you. “Do you have any place in mind?”

“I was thinking,” you hesitated, “That building right there? It’s just a small office building. We could take the fire escape staircase up to the roof?”

You pointed towards the building across the street. It was only around five or six stories high.

“Isn’t that, trespassing or something?” he smirked.

“It’s not like we’re doing anything bad,” you rolled your eyes, “I just wanted to talk to you without being seen, that’s all.”

The truth was that you knew GCPD had cruiser cars patrolling outside of the park since they found the three bodies Red Hood hanged, as well as a couple of officers patrolling inside the park every few hours. You didn’t want to risk spooking Jason, especially since you were going to properly talk to him.

“Okay, lead the way,” he gestured.

You tried to be mindful of your body language. Hoping to not seem stiff or nervous, you walked next to him closely, your arm brushing his occasionally as you walked across the street.

Once you reached the fire escape staircase, the both of you climbed up smoothly.

The roof was clean, at least. No sign of pigeon droppings, no litter or cigarette butts, and no random puddles of water from the rain.

Jason walked to the edge, put his hand on the ledge, and peered over.

“Now, that’s high! I don’t know about you, but heights make me slightly nervous,” he chuckled to himself before turning to you and giving you a big boyish grin. “So, what did you want to talk about?”

The way he looked, both his hands behind his head in a casual, relaxed pose- you really didn’t want to believe it.

“I’m kinda nervous to tell you,” you admitted.

He walked towards you and gave you a warm smile, “It’s okay. Take it slow. I’ve got all night.”

You took a deep breath, and began.

“I’m confused. I feel like I’m doing the wrong thing instead of the right thing, but for some reason, the wrong thing feels more right than the right thing. You get me?” you finished your ramblings with a question.

The sound of sirens coming from the streets below were an accurate representation of what was going on in your head.

“I’m sorry,” he said in confusion, “I’m not sure I do, princess.”

You took a deep breath, ignoring your thumping heart and your inner voices screaming at you in protest.

“I know, Jason,” you stated, “I know who you are.”

Jason looked even more confused. So confused, that you doubted yourself for just one small moment. But then, against all your hope and wishes you had since you figured it out, his face twisted into a sinister smirk, his eyes no longer the bright and warm and friendly blue, but cold, harsh, and unforgiving.

When you thought of your Jason being Red Hood, it was hard to imagine someone like him as a cold blooded killer, but after seeing his face in a new light, you asked yourself why you didn’t figure it out sooner.

“Finally,” he rolled his eyes, “Did he tell you?”

You nodded, not wanting your voice to betray you and the tears that had started pooling your eyes. You had wished so hard that you were wrong, that Bruce was wrong.

“You look disappointed,” he scoffed.

“Of course I am,” you sighed, looking away, “I thought you were… nice.”

“It’s called acting, sweetheart,” he sassed.

“Well, I’ll be sure to nominate you for an Oscar, then,” you snapped.

The fucker actually chuckled at that, earning a glare from you.

“Anyway,” he started, “Let’s cut to the chase. Where is he?”

You frowned at that. “In Otisburg with Dick, investigating you. I told you, Batman wouldn’t bother us here tonight.”

“You’re telling me,” he responded, “That you came here unarmed, and without backup?”

He looked at you incredulously before barking out a humourless laugh. “You’re either brave or stupid.”

“If you wanted to hurt me, you would have done so long ago,” you pointed out.

“Thanks for you trust in me,” he said sarcastically.

“Jason,” you pursed your lip.

“What?” he snarled, “What was the point in this?”

“To-” you stopped midway, taking a deep breath of preparation, “To try to convince you-”

“To come back?” he interjected, “To come home? Kiss and hug with Bruce and it’ll all be okay?”

“He misses you, Jason,” you spoke softly, “We can help you fix this. Whatever this is.”

“Fix this?” he growled, walking closer to you as a burst of sudden anger appeared in his eyes, “The only way to fix this is to turn back time. To kill Joker. To unadopt you.”

You felt a sharp stab in your chest. Jason, upon seeing the hurt flash across your face, started to mock you.

“Aww, did I hurt your feelings?” he came even closer, “Insecure little Robin, thinks she’s so good, always doing the right thing.”

He reached out and tilted your chin upwards towards him, and leaned in close. You willed yourself to not flinch at his touch.

“I fucking hated you,” he whispered, hot breath fanning your face, “I wanted to bash your head in against the wall. I wanted to see you suffer and make you cry. Hell, I still do sometimes. But then I realise…”

His lips grazed your ear.

“That you’re. Just. Like. Me.”

You slapped his hand away and stepped back.

“I’m nothing like you,” you countered.

“No?” he raised an eyebrow condescendingly, “So you did not beat Jerome Miller’s ass straight into a coma?”

Your eyes widen, your throat tightened. “Wh- How- how did you-”

“Oh, sweetheart, who did you think hired those buffoons in the first place?” he sneered.

“No,” you squeaked, your thoughts all rushing back to you, “I- I told you… It was my favorite place in the world…”

“And I loved every fucking second of taking it away from you,” he elaborated, “And when you called me, crying- to say it felt good would be an understatement.”

Stupid. You were stupid, and that’s all you were. Stupid and naive.

You couldn’t stop the tears from escaping your eyes.

“Oh no, baby girl, don’t cry,” he rushed to wipe away your tears. You almost mistook him for being genuine, until he added, “You’re gonna make me hard.”

You looked away, remaining silent, disappointed at yourself for showing your weakness.

“Batman may have taken the fall for what you did to Miller, but I wasn’t stupid. I knew you had a personal grudge that you acted on. Just like me.”

“I didn’t mean to,” you still tried to argue, “It just happened.”

“And I just happened to come back from the dead, right?” he snapped, “And I just happened to take over the criminal underground?”

“What I did was an accident,” you protested.

“Yet Jerome Miller is still a vegetable,” he pointed out, “You don’t know much about him, do you? You didn’t do your research. You wouldn’t make excuses for yourself if you had.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” you demanded.

“His family? Ring any bells?” he said, and then his eyebrows shot up when he realised you were clueless, “Holy fucking shit! Don’t- don’t tell me. You never even stopped to think of his family?”

You swallowed the bitter taste in your mouth as your heart sank at that realisation.

“You’re more heartless than I thought, baby girl,” he chuckled, “Anna Miller- his wife- was diagnosed with stage four cancer about three years ago. She’s been in and out of chemo ever since. He needed to find a way to pay the bills. Now, he was already a talented and experienced man- but because Gotham is a shit hole, he, like everyone else, couldn’t find an honest job. So he had to resort to illegal means to pay for his wife.”

“He was a chatty guy, Jerome,” he continued, “Basically told me his life story. Thanked me again and again for the generous pay. He was going to take his 6 year old daughter to see Elsa at Disneyland this summer. Being the saint that I am, I even put in a couple grand extra. But now, I may have paid him a lot, but his wife will still continue to accumulate her medical bills. Who’s gonna pay for them? And poor sweet Andrea would be stuck without a father and a mother who’s too sick to take care of her. Thanks to you, of course.”

It became clearer to you now- the effects of your assault. You took away a breadwinner from his struggling family- and it shook you. The fact that the Red Hood was the one who pointed this all out to you to make you realise what you did, it was humorlessly ironic.

“You’re lying,” you shook your head. Denial was the only thing keeping you from breaking down. “Why should I believe a single thing you say when you’ve been lying to me for months?”

“Believe me or not, it doesn’t matter,” he shrugged nonchalantly, “I just wanted you to open your eyes and see who you really are. Impulsive, explosive, and insecure. And you know what? I can work with that. You’re perfect for my line of work.”

“Your line of work?” you frowned.

“I’m not all bad, you know,” he smirked, “I do this- I do what Batman hasn’t been able to. I’ve controlled crime. I know you’ve questioned his methods. I did. And even if you haven’t, you will eventually.”

“No,” you insisted, not allowing your doubts to resurface again, “What you’re doing, it’s- it’s wrong.”

“Wrong?” he scoffed, “If what I’m doing is wrong, then that would make me the bad guy, right?”

You eyed him suspiciously, unsure of where he was going with that point. The wind was blowing in his hair, messing it up and making him look more boyish. If you squinted hard enough, you thought you could see a glimpse of the younger Jason Todd- the one Bruce had pictures of.

“Then isn’t it wrong for Robin, the light to Batman’s darkness,” he exaggerated, before glaring straight into your eyes, “to want to fuck the bad guy?”

He finished with a smug grin.

“W-what?” you half sputtered, half screeched.

“Oh, please,” he rolled his eyes, “You might as well have spelt it out for me in bold when I kidnapped you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you stood your ground.

Jason closed the distance, until both of your fronts were just an inch apart. Your stomach did a flip, your heart beating faster at the movement, almost jumping out of throat.

You gulped subconsciously.

“I’ve heard you moan,” he drawled, “I saw your pupils dilate, and the way you licked your lips when my crotch was right in front of you. You looked hungry.”

It was like you were frozen, yet heat started to pool at your centre as you remembered that the man in front of you was the famous cold-blooded criminal that you’ve been thinking about non-stop ever since your first encounter.

He gripped you by the hips and pulled you closer to grind his front against yours. You squeaked at the sudden movement, but gasped when you felt his cock half hard against you.

You were so close, you had to crane your neck up painfully to see him. He was so much taller than you, his head bowed down, your lips only inches from each other, panting hard before anything had even started.

His smell were clearer than ever, you knew that he smelled like leather because of his alter ego. You could also smell the lingering fabric softener that he must have used on his laundry, which gave you an almost comical picture of him in his Red Hood costume trying to figure out how the washing machine worked. And the gunpowder. You breathed him in, thinking the last one suited him the most, the combination of it and his musky cologne complimenting each other.

The pull you felt towards him- the lust, the want, the craving, hell the fucking sparks- you didn’t feel all of that when you kissed the first time, or the second.

You only felt it now, when you knew that he was Red Hood, that he was Jason Peter Todd- the Robin you never met.

The Robin who died.

The Robin who hated you.

He took his hand and cupped your cheek, surprisingly gentle with his touch. That is, until he closed the gap and kissed you hard, almost forceful with his nips and licks. It was hard for you to keep up with him because he kissed you like he was so deprived, like he needed to.

For some reason, you could really taste him now. He tasted like a mix of dark bitter chocolate and smoke and whiskey and coke.

You let out a soft involuntary moan when he pried his tongue into your mouth, and rubbed his hands up and down your waist, to your back, squeezing your ass and coming back to your hips. Without breaking the kiss, he started walking and guiding you towards the exit door to the stairwell, his grip on you preventing you from stumbling.

He pushed you against the wall bordering on violently, consequently knocking the breath out of you from shock more than anything, and took a step back.

He observed you, his hooded eyes raking your body. His lips were plump and glistening, his gaze piercingly intense.

You could only imagine what you looked like to him. Pupils blown, lips swollen, face flushed.

“Hmm,” he tilted his head as his stare wandered across your body, “Was this get up supposed to have changed my perspective of you? To see you as a sweet, innocent girl? You thought I wouldn’t hurt you if you looked like a good girl?”

You gulped, not knowing how to answer his accurate guess.

“Quite the opposite, princess,” he growled, “Your innocence was what attracted me in the first place. And now that I know what’s underneath all that fucking pink- that you beat a guy half to death. Well, that turns me on even more.”

He stalked towards you in a predatory way, making your breath hitch. He looked like he was going to devour you, and you would be lying if you said it didn’t scare you despite your panties getting moist.

“Plus,” he added, “I like corrupting good girls. Making them dirty. Not that you aren’t already.”

He reached around your head and grabbed a fistful of your hair, pulling your head sideways so he could attack your neck. His other hand roamed your body, squeezing your breasts, eliciting another moan from you.

Then, you felt his hand snake up the side of your thigh, bunching up your skirt along the way, creeping further and further towards your center.

“Jason,” you gasped.

“I know you want this,” he whispered into the crook of your neck, not stopping his hand. “Don’t you?”

He pressed onto your covered clit gently, making you whine at the relief, your hands now flat against the wall behind you. He then pulled down your panties swiftly, goosebumps appearing wherever he touched. Even though you were still wearing your skirt, you still felt bare and exposed, partly due to the unfamiliar feeling of wind brushing up and caressing your naked pussy.

You moaned yet again when he sucked onto the skin of your neck. You knew he was going to leave bruises and marks, but you were too dizzy in heat and lust to care.

He slipped a finger in between your folds and started to lightly stroke up and down, always avoiding touching the spot you really wanted him to touch.

“Fuck,” he chuckled, “You’re dripping, and I haven’t even done anything yet.”

He straightened and looked at you in the eye. “I knew you weren’t the sweet girl you pretend to be,” he stated, and without warning, started to rub your clit at an intense pace.

“Jason,” you whimpered, your hands flying from the wall to grip his shirt tight, loving the foreign feeling of someone else touching you.

”You like that, baby girl?” he panted hot breaths on your skin.

“Please don’t stop,” you breathed, heat and electricity pulsating from your center to your toes.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” he grumbled, stopping his movements altogether.

You let out a disappointed groan.

But before you could say anything, you felt a finger prod at your opening. Slowly, he inserted his finger, drawing a long sigh from you.

“Mmm,” he purred, “So tight and warm.”

You felt that amazing full feeling you felt when he did the same all those weeks ago while you were tied to the chair. Except now, he wasn’t just teasing anymore.

He started to curl his fingers upwards, pressing the spot he did previously, when he fingered you for the first time, but only more intensely just like the way he rubbed your clit and the way he sucked on your skin. It was like he was trying to attack you with a barrage of sensations.

“Fuck!” you cried, throwing your arms shamelessly around his neck for support, “I-is- is that my-”

“You mean you’ve never touched yourself here before? Not even after I touched it for you?” you felt him smile against your neck, increasing the pace, making you moan wantonly. “This is your g-spot, sweetheart.”

Right, your g-spot. You've heard of this biological mystery before- the girls were talking about it in the locker room. And you got even more curious after that particular session with Red Hood. But even when you did start touching yourself regularly, the easiest way was to only stimulate your clitoris, and you felt that was enough for you.

Mainly because Mother would scream even louder if you attempted to insert a finger, pretending it was Red Hood’s.

You whimpered into his neck, one of your thighs hitching higher and higher all the way to hook around his waist and give him more access. Immediately, he grabbed your leg from behind your knee and supported you.

“We gotta get you a bit more ready for me, baby girl,” he announced before slowly inserting a second finger, earning a shiver from you.

With two fingers inside, you felt the wonderful stretch for the first time. You mewled at all the new and pleasurable heat you felt.

“Fuck, how bad have you wanted this, sweetheart?” he whispered into your ear, “Because your slick is dripping down my hand right now.”

You turned away and pursed your lips.

“Answer me,” he nipped your earlobe, “Or I’ll stop.”

“No,” you whined, not caring about shame or dignity or principles anymore, “Please.”

“Then answer me like a good girl, princess,” he breathed, “Be a good girl for me. How bad have you wanted this?”

“Bad,” you choked, “So bad, Jason.”

“With Jason, or Red Hood?” he asked, not stopping his deft fingers.

“B-both,” you stuttered.

“For how long?”

“Since the- the night of the bank robbery-” you struggled to form your sentence, “-when you- t-touched me.”

“So you wanted Red Hood first before Jason?” he pulled back, looking at you wide-eyed and surprised.

You bit your lip and nodded.

He smiled wide, and then chuckled, simultaneously withdrawing his fingers from you.

You pouted at the loss, to which he replied, “Don’t look at me like that, baby.”

He pulled you in for another breathtaking, dizzying kiss. You let your leg fall back down to stabilize yourself. He untucked your collared shirt and snaked both his hands underneath. You shuddered when you felt his heat on your skin as he bunched up your top and sweater, pushing up your bra to reveal your breasts.

He played and squeezed them, pinching a nipple here and there, causing you to take in sharp breaths. He wrapped his other arm around you and descended downwards to give attention to your ass at the same time.

“I can’t decide which I like more,” he grumbled.

Suddenly, he pushed you back against the wall even harder, and hooked the same leg around his waist sharply. You felt him fumble around with his zipper, your anticipation now killing you.

Finally, he looked at you straight in the eye, his eyebrows knitted together, his lips slightly apart.

“I don’t care about you, so I’m not going to go slow, you hear me?” he warned.

You gulped, and nodded.

“I’m just going to take what I want,” he continued, “You wanted to make me the bad guy so much, so here I am. I’m going to be the fucking villain.

Your eyes fluttered shut when you felt him rub his tip up and down your pussy lips. You were slightly disappointed that you couldn’t see what he looked like from that angle.

“And once I start, I’m not going to stop either,” he growled, “You’re going to deal with the pain, like you always do. Like he taught you to.”

“Please don’t talk about him right now,” you groaned, forcing yourself to push away the guilt. What would Bruce think of this?

“Fine,” he smirked, prodding the head of his cock at your entrance, “You ready, sweetheart?”

“Ye- AH!” you screamed loudly for the first time that night, because he immediately thrust himself into you, tearing through you, stretching you further than just two fucking fingers.

It was painful. Very painful. You could feel the sting. But then you felt his thumb rubbing your clit intensely, mixing the pain with pleasure, and fuck.

Fuck.

You liked the combination.

“Shit,” he rasped as he fucked into you wildly, “Shit, you feel so good, baby girl.”

“Jay,” you trembled, feeling the way his cock filled you up, feeling the way your pussy pulled it in, the way your walls clung onto his shaft with every violent drag.

“Hold onto me,” he commanded, and you automatically obeyed, your arms going around his neck. He hooked your other leg around his waist and gripped your hips, so that you were now off the ground and against the wall.

“Jay, Jay, Jay,” you chanted as your mind went fuzzy, your eyes watery from the fiery way he fucked you, hitting your spot again and again with the head of his cock. You were breathless, you couldn’t tell if it was reality or a dream.

He was loud. You could hear his whines, and moans, and grunts.

Hell if that didn’t turn you on even more.

“Fuck, the way your tits bounce, fuck,” he husked, his lips brushing against yours.

Indeed, you could feel your breasts heave and move with the motion, and you could hear the vulgar sound of skin slapping against skin, the wet slick sounds you assumed was your pussy being drilled by his dick.

“So wet and good for me, princess,” he muttered, “So good, taking my cock so well.”

His tongue forced his way inside your mouth again, finding yours. He started sucking on your tongue as he pounded you against the wall, muffling your cries. You weren’t going to last very long. You could feel it.

The tightening of your stomach, the heat spreading from your core to your chest and your toes and the tips of your fingers, your consciousness gradually disappearing as you felt increasingly light-headed.

“I can feel you, baby,” he breathed, “You wanna cum, sweetheart?”

“Jason,” you let out a soft sigh, unable to say anything other than his name.

“Me too, baby girl, me too,” he said in stuttered breaths as his thrusts became even faster but sloppier. He started rubbing on your clit again.

The moment he did, you snapped. You felt the shattering, most intense feeling of pleasure overcome all your senses, whiting you out from reality for those few moments of your high.

“Fuck!” you heard him swear distantly as you came back down. He pulled out quickly from you, making you wince at the slight soreness, and then you felt hot pulsations on your lower stomach as he groaned and grunted his release.

He slumped against you, trapping you between the wall as you released his middle from your legs. The moment you tried to stand up, your legs gave up, causing you to wobble and fall. Jason caught you before you reached the floor, and then gently set you down.

You leaned your head back on the wall and closed your eyes. Your legs still spread wide, hoping the cool air could relieve you of the sudden soreness you felt between your legs.

“You’re bleeding,” you heard him choke.

You opened your eyes to see him look at you with an odd expression- like he was confused and trying to decide something important.

“I’m fine,” you said, “Would it be too much to ask you to pass me my handbag? I’ve got tissues inside.”

You watched as he zipped himself up and walked a couple of feet away from you to take your bag. But instead of tossing it to you like you expected him to, he went through it, found the tissue, and then walked over to you and kneeled down.

With wide eyes, your eyes followed him as he took out a sheet and wipe you gently between your legs, the inside of your thighs, and your stomach. He tossed the tissue to the side. You briefly caught the bright red on the white. He took out another sheet and then cleaned you once more.

Once he was done, he found your panties and held them out to you, not meeting your eye. You graciously took it and slipped it back on, not missing the way his cheeks were slightly red.

You tried standing up again.

You were a little wobbly, but you managed.

He was now a few feet away from you, watching you from the corner of his eye.

The silence was awkwardly deafening. You just stood there, blushing, holding your own arms.

Then-

“Fuck it.”

He walked to you, and before you knew it, he pulled you in his arms for a…

Hug?

He forced your head to rest on his hard chest, as his other hand wrapped around you tight. The warmth you felt was surprising, but comforting, especially after losing your virginity in such an unconventional way.

“Don’t get used to this,” grumbled into your hair, “I’m not your fucking boyfriend.”

You could only silently nod as you tried to hide your smile.

The moment was short lived, because you remembered again how you got there.

“Jason?” you whispered.

“What?” he answered harshly.

“I hated you, you know,” you admitted, “Not Red Hood, not Jason Haywood. But you. Jason Todd.”

He let you go, and looked at you with an angry confused look.

You guessed that was how he was going to look at you from then on. Angry confusion. Angry stares. Angry smile. If that was even possible.

“It was just a deep, dark part of me, of course. I also did wish I got to know you. The Robin that died,” you said bitterly, “Every time someone brought you up, they’d look so fucking sad. Not that I could tell anyone that, of course. Because that would make me a Grade A bitch. But you know what? I hated you. I always wondered if Bruce adopted me just to fill in the hole that you left. And every time I did something right, I’d would think everyone around me is saying ‘Oh look at her. She’s finally catching up to Jason.’ And fuck, when I did something wrong, then it’d be ‘Jason would never have fucked up like that’.”

You looked at him with all the bitter resentment you’ve been harboring for years.

“I hated you, and I hated every time someone brought you up,” you continued, “Like, God, get over it, you know? He’s dead.”

You were slightly taken aback at how he was still silent, listening, and waiting for you to finish.

“But you’re not dead,” you sighed, “You’re here, alive. And I don’t know why I’m not telling Bruce about this. I hate you, so fucking much for making me feel this way.”

He stared at you with knitted brows, and then started chuckling, making you frown.

“Oh man,” he laughed, “I’ve never seen anyone look at me with so much hatred before. I mean, sure some of my men do hate me, but it was always mixed with fear. But you? Baby girl, you make me so fucking proud.”

He changed back into his arrogant self.

“Join me,” he cockily said.

“W-what?” you sputtered.

“Come on. I know you. The deep, dark part of yourself,” he used your own words, “The one who hated her father’s dead son, the one who put a guy into a coma without stopping to think of his family, the one who let me fuck you the way I did.”

He grinned as you remained silently frowning.

“Just one night,” he tried, “Just to show you my world, and what I do. I know you’re curious.”

He was right, you have always been curious as to what was happening on his side. The crazies, the bad guys, the deplorable.

Lately more than ever, with the exponential decrease in certain criminal activities.

“You know,” he continued, “Whenever you feel like you’re tired of being his sidekick, I’d gladly take you up as a partner.”

You chewed on your lip, heavily considering his offer.

“I’ll think about it,” you finally said, and turned away from him, “I’m going back.”

You were tired.

And sore.

“You know where to reach me.”

***

Jason watched you as you climbed back down the fire escape, putting up his casual front until he knew you were gone. He grit his teeth when he saw you cross the street back to the park, your gait slightly different.

He walked over to the wall where he fucked you animalistically wild.

“FUCK!” he roared, and punched the wall, feeling the pain reverberate down to his shoulder.

Why did he do that? Why did he do it the way he did?

He felt his chest tighten, his breaths quick and sharp.

His eyes were stinging with tears.

Why did he hug you? He didn’t care. He was not supposed to care.

Why did he feel like a fucking monster?

Finally, after so long of trying to hold back, he broke down.

He punched the wall again, and again, until he crumpled down to his knees, his sobs almost choking him.

He ran his fingers through his hair and pulled, screaming loud at how much he fucking hated himself.

He hated you, so much.

No, he didn’t.

Yes, he did.

“SHUT UP!” he yelled, “Shut up, shut up, shut up.”

He was nothing more than a pathetic, slobbering mess. No wonder Bruce had replaced him with you.

No, it was Bruce’s fault. Bruce never loved him. Bruce doesn’t love you. He just uses people and then throw them away.

He couldn’t breathe.

“Please,” he whimpered, “I want to die.”

No, he didn’t.

He still had a job to do, he still had his goals to reach. He’s been working so hard and he got to this point already. He had control of the underground and control over you.

So why didn’t he feel like a winner?

#jason todd x reader #jason todd smut #jason todd reader insert #jason todd #red hood #batman #bruce wayne #dc comics #dc universe #dcu #red hood and the outlaws #under the red hood #arkham knight #nightwing #dick grayson

547 notes · View notes

letgraysonsheart · 5 years ago

Text

Stab Wound

Tim doesn’t understand where all these freaking ninjas are coming from. It’s like they’re crawling out of every open space, every broken board, every hole in the old warehouse floor. They don’t seem to be stopping either. He’s got both Robin and Red Hood fighting with him, in an odd turn of events, and they’re still only barely keeping the upper hand.

Dodging the quick arms, the knives and the punches coming for him, he tries to move closer to the center of the room. He shoots a quick look over at Hood and Robin because they should be doing the same. It’s their game plan after all. They seem to be doing.. okay, he guesses. Further into the room than before, at least, and he can't ask for more.

Why did it have to be ninjas? They’re so sly and moving so fast, it’s tiring keeping up with them. Their little stabby knives more annoying than useful, he figures. They have yet to hurt any of them more than a few superficial scrapes, or so he assumes; he can’t spot any major bleeding wounds on any of his current teammates. Damian, a little ninja assassin himself, probably thinks this is fun. It for sure looks like it, the way the youngest of them is flipping around, wielding his katana.

While he's busy checking on Damian, one of the ninjas gets in a kick to his stomach which, ow, is not nice at all. Now he has to both focus on blocking and trying to get some air back into his poor abused lungs. That’s for sure going to bruise, it may have done some damage to his ribs too. Alfred will for sure give him a frown, maybe even a sarcastic unimpressed comment. He has to bite back a hiss as he straightens up to continue on.

A yelp to his right grabs his attention because ninjas don’t yelp - but baby demon brats do. He shoots a quick look over at Damian. It seems like in an unexpected turn of events, a ninja has managed to sneak up on the brat and got him with a sword. The wound doesn't seem too serious, Tim sees and releases a sigh of relief, even if it's bleeding. Damian himself looks even angrier than before.

Still, the younger is now fighting off multiple ninjas by himself. It looks like he's starting to get stressed too, Tim notes and frowns. Damian has got his tongue poking out, only the tip of it showing, smushed between his lips. He's concentrating, hard enough to let a small tell like that slip out.

Tim sighs, and hits a ninja with his bo staff, knocking them down. The ninja stays down, which he isn't mad about at all, as he starts making his way towards the younger.

He’s almost there, preparing to help Damian tackle the flow of ninjas when there’s a sharp pinch in his side. He reacts on instinct, lashing out with his staff and letting the tip of it connect with full force in the offending ninja’s stomach. The ninja doubles over and falls to the side, gasping for air. Serves him right, Tim figures, as he knocks him unconscious with another hit. Without looking he lets one hand move down to where it’s still throbbing a little from where the ninja got him. There's a growing hurt spreading through his stomach, and yep - that’s a stab wound.

Stabby ninjas are the worst kind of ninjas.

It doesn’t seem too serious, it’s not an unbelievable pain, and it’s not hurting too much.

No need to call it a night yet.

He continues his track towards the demon brat because even if the Robin would never admit to it, it sure looks like he could use a hand.

Tim knows Damian could take on all the ninjas and win. Hell, he's probably winning as it is, but Tim would rather see it happening with minimal damage, then well, the opposite. And that.. ain’t what's happening right now. He can see that the younger has a growing redness on his cheek where a ninja must have gotten a hit in. There’s a small knife wound on his arm, adding to the one from before, too.

A hurt, benched Robin is the worst kind of Robin, and to be frank, Tim would like not to deal with that. That, and the massive illogical guilt he'd be consumed by if anything real serious were to happen. Another great perk he's gotten from being a bat. Or he could have had it from before.

Whatever.

Damian doesn’t bite out anything as Tim comes up on his side. Tim hopes it means the younger has realized that he could use a little help. It’s nice, that Damian is actually showing some signs of aging, of becoming more mature. Or that his training is going through his thick skull at least.

The younger boy, he's .. not as insufferable any more, and it’s making working with both the Bat himself and Robin a whole lot easier.

Together they manage to force the ninjas further back, into the middle of the room. There’s a hole in the floor that some of the ninjas actually came crawling up out of when the fight first started. Jason joins their side too, at some point, watching their backs. So continuing as a little unexpected but united trio, they push the ninjas backward and down. Some of them even scramble back into the hell hole they came from.

They’re winning now, actually a more clear win than in a long time. Which means Tim's tired body gets a new shot of energy and motivation, enough to keep him pushing on. His side is still itching, more and more actually, but it’s not enough to stop him from fighting.

He's had worse.

After what seems like forever, the sound of Damian’s katana going back into its sheath fills the room. The top of Tim’s bo staff has at one point gotten sliced clean off when he’d dodged an attack from a jumping ninja (and really? It wasn’t enough coming at him from the ground?)

Jason is zip-tying the ninjas who hadn’t fled, both their hands and feet, in a methodical order. Tim steps towards the hole in the ground, where the last of the ninjas, when realizing their defeat, had disappeared into. It’s always annoying when they end up with loose ends, but there was no stopping them. They’re already long gone, he assumes, having sacrificed their weakest to get away themselves. Tim suspects they must have had some kind of hierarchy. It was clear who fled and who had to stay behind and fight to keep him and the two others busy.

As he takes another step, he feels a wave of dizziness hit him, which is usually not good. He puts his staff into the ground, steadying himself, leaning onto it.

“You alright there Tim?” Jason is by his side now, only a meter away, and when did he move over? Tim didn't hear his steps as he came towards him.

His knees feel weak and shaky. Pain shoots up his body when Jason hits his shoulder in what's supposed to be a friendly pat. Crap. He knows what this is, what happens now.

He’s coming down. The fight is over, and his body is taking in all the damage it has sustained. The adrenaline leaving behind a drained shell.

His fingers go to his stomach, his gloves get soaked in seconds.

“Tim?” Jason says again, as Tim’s vision tunnels, the darkness creeping into the edges.

“Tim!” Jason yells again, moving closer, but looking more like an unfocused blob made of red and grey.

Huh, that's weird.

Tim’s knees hit the hard floor of the warehouse as his vision tunnels. Though he doesn't feel any pain at the unexpected meeting between his boney knee and the cement flooring. Huh. That's weird.

He barely feels himself slipping, falling, and doesn’t even know if he hits the ground or not.

When he comes too again, he’s laying down, reclined, on something cushy and comfortable. He’s belted fast, but the straps don’t hurt. They’re not too tight like they would be if someone had kidnapped him, not cutting off his blood flow or gnawing at his skin.

There’s a familiar rumbling sound that his brain is still too muddled from blood-loss to understand what is. Whatever he’s laying on, or in? slows down a little. He hadn’t even realized he was moving at all, before.

His head is throbbing, but so is his side which - right, there was a stab wound. He wills his fingers, which takes a worrying amount of effort, to move towards his side. Is he still bleeding out? It doesn't feel like it. He would for sure not be alive right now if that was the case.

“You awake over there?” A gruff voice, lower than Dick’s but still lighter than Bruce’s, asks out of nowhere. Jason, his brain finally supplies. That’s Jason. Who he had been fighting with, plus the demon brat. Who’s either not there or being unusually quiet.

He can’t quite get himself to make his voice work, but he does manage to pry his own eyes open. It's relieving that he isn’t met by a blinding light. At least he isn't in some bed in the med-bay at the cave, or worse - the hospital. In fact, it’s dark, and there’s a window, he can see the outside rushing past.

Oh. That explains it. The rumbling, the movement. They’re in the batmobile. It makes sense he’s strapped in then. It's the seatbelts, costume made for the batmobile and its makeshift emergency med-bed passenger seat. He looks down his torso and sees that parts of his uniform have disappeared and been replaced by a white gauze. His fingers had never quite managed to reach the wound.

“Damian?” he croaks because there is no way the kid is in the car. He knows for a fact this exact car only has two seats, and not much more space to sit in. He was once crammed in the passenger seat with Dick, while Bruce drove them home. It's not an experience he wants to relive, not with Dick, and not with Damian. There is no way two over-average muscle built guys should fit in the seat, and they don't.

“The brat?” Jason asks with a huff, though Tim can spy a hint of a smile ghosting over the older's lips through the windshield. “He went to help B clean up once we figured you weren’t going to die,” the older continues. Tim notices there's a little bit more anger in his voice now.

He stays silent and leans his head on the rest while closing his eyes.

“Why didn’t you say you were hurt?” Jason asks, apparently unable to deal with the quiet only interrupted by the steady hum of the motor. “I know that the bat likes to be dramatic and shit, but passing out like that? Not nice against your fellow teammates, dude.”

Tim knows Jason is trying to sound casual, like he doesn’t care, but instead it's so absolutely obvious that he does. That his older brother was in fact worried. Tim can actually feel how it warms his heart, brings some heat to his cheeks, even if he wants to chalk it up to the blood loss. It's not exactly a regular thing that happens, Jason Todd showing that he cares. Then again, Bruce isn't there with his deafening silence and judging eyes. Perhaps that makes it easier.

“I didn’t think it was that bad,” Tim answers when he realizes that he's let the silence drag on a little too long while he was lost in thought. He can’t be bothered to open his eyes again, so he’ll just assume Jason is glaring at him. It for sure feels like it, his skin is prickling.

“You were stabbed. In the gut. You didn’t think that was bad?” Jason barks out, sentenced chopped and hard. Tim can feel the car swinging in a turn. He hopes they’re going to be home soon. Then Alfred can patch him up and he can climb into his big comfy bed and sleep for like, ten hours at least.

He should probably answer Jason too, at some point.

“I don’t know, I didn’t feel it until the fight was over,” Tim argues back, and can’t keep the slight irritation out of his voice. He’s tired god damn it, and lost too much blood to have this fight right now. So what if he smooths the details out a little? The wound had been an irritating pulse in the back of his head after he got it, yes, but nothing.. nothing that seemed dangerous.

Plus, Bruce will do the same exact dance with him when they discuss the case later. The less worrying he makes it sound to Jason, the less serious it will sound to Bruce. Keeping the story consistent and all that.

Jason takes a deep breath and breathes it out with a sigh, “I'm still mad at you, but, I guess that’s sound reasoning, adrenaline, and all. We've all been there.”

Was that Jason agreeing with him? Letting the matter go? What?

Tim cracks an eye open, looks at Jason’s face through the mirror. The older is biting his lip, staring at the road ahead, though his mind looks to be elsewhere. He wonders if he should be worried about Jason’s driving. Then again, he’s seen the Robin turned crimelord turn vigilante driving much more reckless, while distracted, before.

“You okay?” Tim hears himself asking, his voice sounding too soft. Then again, he can and will blame that on the blood loss too.

“Yeah, a few lacerations, one of the ninjas got in a good kick to my ribs too. Figured it was better I drove you to the manor. Let Robin join Batman,” Jason says before quickly adding, “not that I wanted to do that, even if I were in perfect health. Join Batman, I mean.”

Tim laughs a little at Jason's ramble. It sounds more like a croak, but it makes Jason look at him through the mirror with hardened eyes. It only makes him want to laugh more.

They drive in silence for a little while longer, and Tim lets his eyes slip closed again. In the darkness, he tries to feel the turns the car takes and guess where they’re at, but it's impossible. Usually, he could drive these streets blindfolded, or, he assumes he could. He hasn’t tried, if being so sleep deprived you’re seeing triple doesn’t count.

“Thanks,” he mutters, feeling sleep creep upon him. They’re going to be home soon, but a little nap won’t hurt. He’s pretty sure he hasn’t got any head injuries. Jason hasn’t mentioned anything and he knows the older has been watching him. That’s what they do.

“No need to thank me. When you faint right in front of me like a bigger drama queen then B, I can’t exactly leave you there to bleed out,” Jason answers. There's laughter in his voice, even though his words tells so much about his growth.

“You could've,” Tim says, letting the following silence hang in the air for a few seconds before continuing. “You could’ve left me. Or let Damian deal with it alone, or called Batman, but you didn’t. So thanks,” he finishes and stares up in the dark roof of the car. There's a small light there he hasn't noticed before, though it's turned off now.

He takes a deep breath, feeling the itching of his wound, it hurts - but not too bad. Maybe there's a numbing agent on the gauze, they use that sometimes if they have it on hand. His side is throbbing, but the sticking pain he remembers from before is almost gone.

Jason is being worryingly silent after the little proclamation Tim just finished.

“It’s the blood loss talking,” Tim reassures as he realizes there's a real chance he's hit some dark emotional spot in his older brother. He opens his eyes in time to see Jason’s shoulders sinking. The fingers cradling the wheel like a lifeline eases up, letting blood flow into them again.

“Yeah," Jason says, after a while, after too long. He's not looking in the mirror at all, keeping his eyes steady on the road, avoiding Tim’s eyes. Another defused emotional bomb added to Tim's belt.

"Do you really think-," Jason's voice stops midway through the sentence. He's still staring right head, eyes hard and guarded.

"Do I think what, Jason?" Tim is too exhausted for word games right now, and for any kind of emotions really. Maybe he hadn't defused the bomb, just deactivated the timer so now it could explode at any time by a single wrong move.

“I’m going to take a nap,” Tim states then, instead of commenting on anything more, and it doesn't seem like Jason is going to answer. He's too tired, so with a sigh, he tries to relax his tense muscles while shutting his eyes. As he breathes in deep it pulls at his wound again, and it makes it sting all the way through his chest. He forces his face to be natural, hoping Jason doesn't notice.

Anyway, it's kind of nice too, the pain, a screwed up part of his brain says. It means he's alive, that he's not dying yet. That's nice.

“We’re going to be home in like, five minutes,” Jason answers like Tim is being ridiculous thinking about taking a nap. Tim doesn’t dare comment on how Jason called the manor home, nop, not at all, not touching that with a ten-foot pole. Especially not after all the other emotions he's stirred up since waking up. He has some tact, even with a blood loss brain.

“It’ll be a short nap,” he argues back, voice already more groggy. A more comfortable than before darkness creeps into his mind, slowly taking over.

He’s asleep before he hears if Jason answers or not.

This was originally written for the “stab wound” prompt in whumptober, but all my plans failed, so the only thing i got around to writing was filing this prompt for my friend @marianne-in-wonderland

#in an unexpected turn of events i write jason & tim hurt/comfort #jason being tims big bro and im emotional #wheres my boy dick? i dont know this is unusual for me #but it was fun to write so!#ill post this to ao3 too #tw stab wound #tw blood #tw talk about death #tw fainting #my writing #elie writes #jason todd #tim drake #batboys fanfiction #im desperate for those notes #long post

163 notes · View notes

justicealwaysprevails · 5 years ago

Text

decisive inaction.

WHO: Bruce @justicealwaysprevails and Jason @thatsjasonfkntodd WHERE: The Manor WHEN: April 30th, 2020 WHAT: Jason is forced to move back to Wayne Manor once Joker makes Red Hood’s identity public.

Jason: The longer he waited to relocate, the higher the chance that someone was going to start looking for him in the right place. Jason gave himself a day after the puppet show to pack up most of his things, or at least the important ones, and showed up at the manor with two suitcases. Everything else had been put into storage, and he’d already given notice that he was vacating the apartment. Anyone looking for Red Hood there wasn’t going to find a damn thing.

What he hadn’t done ahead of time was tell anyone where he planned on going instead, mostly because he loathed the idea of it entirely. He left the suitcases in the foyer and considered looking for Bruce, but he wasn’t stupid enough to actually believe he didn’t already know he was there. Instead, he spread his arms out to the sides and did a half spin. “Are you going to come welcome me home or pretend I’m not here?” He’d hear him. Bruce: After what happened at the theater, Bruce considered reaching out to Jason and asking that he come to the manor. Jason would turn it down, he was sure of that, so he made a conscious decision not to. He would rather say nothing and not completely eliminate the option. He wasn't ever ignorant when it came to Jason's line of work and the choices he made, although it would seem so by how little he interfered. It wasn't a fight worth having, not right now, and Bruce told himself it was something he could handle any time. Now that his identity was public knowledge, it made everything much trickier.

He saw him arrive. Before Jason even finished speaking he was there, exiting the kitchen just down the hall from where he stood. "Welcome home." The tone was hard to read in being nothing but matter-of-fact and direct. His gaze was more scrutinizing. "We need to talk." Motioning for Jason to follow, he turned to lead the way to the cave. This wasn't something he wanted anyone overhearing. Jason: “I see the detective work is in full swing today.” Obviously they needed to talk. He had plenty of things to say, as he always did when it came to Bruce, and no more reason to hold back. His problems had finally directly and irreparably interfered with Jason’s life.

He followed him down to the Batcave. He’d been there a handful of times recently with Dick and Tim, but it always had a different feel with Bruce. They were stepping into his space, his element, and it always gave Jason a little stab of something. Resentment, maybe. “Are we drawing straws or are you going to go ahead and give me your one sentence review of the situation?” Bruce: The only response to Jason's barbed comments was no response. Bruce learned that a long time ago. It encouraged them otherwise. He'd given up discouraging them a long time ago, but at least the back and forth didn't escalate this way.

"No." He sat down, not bothering to ask Jason to do the same. He would choose to sit or he wouldn't. "I need you to tell me if I'm missing anything." Nodding to the screen, he opened up a file that contained the information on each and every person that had a reason for a grudge. There were many. Jason: Jason did not sit. He didn’t feel like acting comfortable there, because he wasn’t. Not with Bruce. Not with the situation they were in. Not with any of it.

The file as large enough that it took a second to load. Of course it was. “Can I sort this by country or...?” Jason folded his arms and stared up at the screen and for a few seconds he did entertain the notion of going through the whole exhaustive list to see who was on there and who might not be, but he gave it up quickly. “You’re missing plenty. I don’t need you to put my life in a bunch of neat little files so you can think you’ve got it all figured out and taken care of. None of this should be happening. Do you get that? Did you give one single fuck about dragging all of us down with you when you threw your name out? It was just luck that we’ve had this long without all of us getting announced.” Bruce: Instead of responding, Bruce pulled up a simple sorting system that was simple to navigate. He demonstrated twice before moving back so Jason could have access to the screen.

He was expecting this. The others hadn't said anything, not yet, but that didn't mean they weren't thinking the same thing. In the past he'd learned the hard way that some of his responses weren't be acceptable. There was a time when he stopped trying to consider how Jason might receive what he had to say. He never saw results from the effort. Sometimes it seemed to make it worse. Alfred advised him against "giving up", even though that wasn't the way Bruce looked at the situation at all. "You're right, Jason. But it's always been that: luck, and we were running out. Too many people knew my identity before the carnival. Joker certainly knew." He no longer shied away from the name. "I had more control of it this way. My biggest regret is that I did not talk to everyone before it happened." Jason: “No, it hasn’t always been luck. I worked my ass off staying under the radar all these years. I’ve got safehouses in places nobody would think to look. If anybody tracked me, they didn’t track Jason Todd, who got buried ten damn years ago in Gotham City. They tracked Red Hood.” Jason raised his hand, one finger pointed at Bruce, “Here’s a free tip for you, Dad, your control over a situation isn’t the most important thing in the world. It wasn’t your control that should have mattered.”

It didn’t matter how much distance Jason put between himself and Bruce or between himself and the rest of the family. He could never actually get away. Bruce always thought he was owed some kind of say, some kind of consideration, some kind of control, just as he’d said. “I built something for myself, something you didn’t want, and now your ‘biggest regret’ is that you didn’t get to give a heads up before you fucked all of us? What a joke.” Bruce: “It has, because your name is tied to mine. No matter how careful you are, you can't change that." Bruce maintained a quiet, even tone despite Jason's obvious anger. "The most important thing to me was to minimize the impact as much as I could. That required having control over the circumstances. No amount of caution prevents a telepath from reading your mind, or the minds of those who know who you are, and even if you eliminate all loose ends the risk remains. It is naive to believe otherwise."

There were plenty of times when Bruce hadn't said to right thing to Jason or Dick and received a similar response. He knew by now there was no point in trying to anticipate what the expected answer was. Sometimes it could make a difference with Dick, but Jason could find malevolence and surmise meaning when none was meant. "What do you think my biggest regret should be?" Jason: “No, I can’t change that,” the sudden shift to bitterness implied that he’d wished several times that it wasn’t the case. What would have happened to him if he hadn’t tried to boost those tires? He had no idea. Maybe Crime Alley would have eventually killed him, maybe he would’ve met Batman in a whole different capacity later on. He had a lot of what ifs and maybes he’d never have answers to, because it was just as Bruce said...he was all tied up to him instead. The Wayne name was inescapable and Jason didn’t even wear it, really. He was not, had never been, and never would be Jason Wayne. He fixed Bruce with another flat look. “Yeah, that’s me. Naive.”

That question had a fresh wave of irritation bubbling up like he never felt around anyone but Bruce. “Oh, I’ve got a laundry list. You can take a little column A, a little column B, mix and match...” Where should he start? With the obvious? Making it about himself and only himself would be letting Bruce off the hook too easily, though. “But why don’t we start with what you just said. Once you touch something, once you pull someone into your fucking,” he made a vaguely round gesture in the air in front of him, “orbit, you take away any shot they’ve got at any other life. And for what? To be part of your cause? The big legend? I’m sick of going down with this ship, Bruce. I’ve done it too many times, and so has everybody else.” Bruce: Bruce did think that Jason was still naive in some ways, but he didn’t bother explaining or clarifying. He had no doubt of the implication Jason made, nor did he question his sincerity, but it still affected him. That was something that he had accepted wouldn’t fade or change with the passing years. The only thing he could do was minimize interference in Jason’s life while still upholding his personal sense of justice. He’d turned a blind eye more frequently in the recent months.

“I know.” There was no use in denying simple truths. It wouldn’t do either of them any good and Jason would see through it. “If you’re asking if I regret putting you in danger, then yes. I do. If you’re asking if I regret adopting you as my son, then I am unable to give you the answer you're looking for." There didn't seem to be a way to separate the two. He'd kept Dick away from the batcave for some time, but Jason knew him as Batman first. Jason: Jason ran his hand back through his hair and couldn’t help the sharp, humorless laugh that slipped out. “It’s funny when you say shit like that, because from where I’m standing...it was more like I was a pity project and then a sidekick, not a son.” On paper, sure. Sometimes it seemed to dawn on Bruce and he remembered, like he had right then, but all the other parts for them never lined up. He’d wanted a father, in the beginning, but he’d been quick to figure out that he wasn’t going to get one in Bruce Wayne. He was going to get Batman. It was Batman’s opinion of him that mattered, and Batman’s opinion that he could never live up to.

“But I think maybe congratulations are in order, because you’re getting what you want now. Red Hood is down for the count for awhile, and I’m stuck here until I have a better option.” He turned his back on him like he meant to walk away, but all he did was take a couple of steps and keep talking. “After all this time and all this bullshit, you’re still letting Joker do this to all of us.” Bruce: "You weren't the first orphan I found living on the streets of Gotham, or the last. I didn't pity you." Bruce had plenty of projects and a myriad of ways to help. There were a dozen other routes he could have taken. "And if I only wanted a sidekick, there are much less complicated ways. I wanted you to be my son, or I would have taken you in as a ward." Dick was his ward for several years before Bruce officially adopted him. It wasn't a move he made thoughtlessly.

It always came back to Joker. Bruce had turned away, as if he were looking at the screen, but the very name made his body stiffen. "I had hoped revealing my name would take away that power." He never thought Joker would take the extra step to reveal the identities of everyone around him, even though it was a step realized now he should have anticipated. Jason: I wanted you to be my son. Jason tensed and curled the fingers of one hand hard against his palm. “Could have fooled me.” It wasn’t as if Willis Todd had given him the best gauge for what a father was supposed to be before he’d been killed, but he was still damn sure that Bruce had missed a lot of marks. If he hadn’t seen him pull it together for Tim and Damian, maybe it would’ve been a little easier to stomach, but he knew now that Bruce was capable of it and just...hadn’t.

“You can’t take power away from him!” he snapped. “The only way it’s gone is if he’s dead!” Just because Bruce had changed the stupid fucking game he played with Joker didn’t mean that the clown was ever going to stop playing it. Bruce: It wasn't a sentiment Bruce ever expected Jason to believe. Alfred encouraged him to say it anyway, for reasons he didn't fully understand, but it was advice he'd chosen to take. "You were never afraid to challenge me," he continued, as if he hadn't heard Jason's comment. That was the quality that caught his attention in the first place. It was also what made the role of Robin so difficult for him to handle. Robin was there to support Batman, unquestioningly and obediently, and that never came naturally to Jason.

He knew Jason would never understand why Joker was still alive, why Bruce didn't choose to put an end to him once and for all, and there were times when Bruce would be hard-pressed not to agree with him. "Perhaps," he said simply, quietly. "But it has never been that simple." Jason: "You don't want a challenge. Not this kind. You want a challenge from fucking...Superman, not from me." Because Jason challenged too hard, got too far from what Bruce wanted, and in the opposite direction. If he was actually out of his mind enough to join up with the League, there was no way in hell Bruce would've ever actually listened to him. He was kidding himself if he thought otherwise.

Jason gritted his teeth so hard he felt his jaw ache until he relaxed it. "It is that simple. You just don't want it to be. The only reason Damian isn't dead is because Joker decided to use him for a different kind of message. How many bodies do you need to hold, exactly, before you stop making excuses?" Bruce: Bruce shook his head. "I asked you to join the league for a reason." He didn't know what motivations assigned to it, if any, but it wasn't an invitation he extended without fully intending to see it through - despite knowing what Jason's probable answer would be. "We don't often agree, Jason, but that doesn't mean I'm not listening."

That earned a longer silence. He hadn't anticipated what happened with Damian, but it made him more determined to rein the Joker in before it continued. Frowning, he looked up at Jason with an unreadable expression. "If you and Dick had managed to capture him, what would you have done?" Jason: “You wanna tell me what good listening does if nothing I say ever actually matters? Because all it means to me is that you’re not deaf.” Bruce didn’t bend, and if he did he definitely didn’t bend to or for Jason. He still couldn’t really comprehend why he’d asked him to join the League, but he knew damn well what it would have been like if he’d agreed to do it. It would have been him compromising, him bending, not Bruce, not the rest of them.

Jason turned to face him fully again. “I don’t know what Dick would have done, but I would have put a bullet between his eyes where it belongs.” He’d said it so many times, yet it still wasn’t done. Bruce: "It matters." Bruce couldn't say for certain how much influence Jason would have over the league, not when it came to certain points, but there were other discussions that could yield different outcomes. "You are more similar to them than you think. It is easier to see the differences." Killing was the glaring difference, even though Bruce was well aware of which members were not wholly against it.

It was what he thought Jason would say. He sighed, his gaze shifting back to the computer screens. "And you believe I have never wanted to do the same thing." It was a statement more than a question. "It isn't so simple for either of us." Jason: “Because the differences are what bite me in the ass, and they’re exactly why I’m only here because I don’t know where else to go.” Because Bruce had fucked it all up and left him scrambling again. “You know, sometimes I think maybe I really am an idiot, because I’ve never been able to figure out how you can look at me and spend your precious twenty words a day to just lie.” Bruce wouldn’t call it that, but how was it not a lie to say things, make claims, and then not follow through on any of it?

“It doesn’t matter if you wanted to do it a thousand times, because you never did!” As soon as Bruce looked away from him, Jason cleared the distance between them so fast it looked like he meant to hit him. All he did was grab his shoulder instead. “Don’t act like I’m not standing right here. You’re going to keep looking at me this time, dammit. This is still happening because you’re letting it happen.” Bruce: "I am not lying to you." It was the only response he could give to cut through the accusation, but it wasn't something he could make Jason believe. At the end of the day, it didn't matter what he said or did - if he couldn't get through to Jason, then it all just fell on deaf ears. Bruce knew better than to give up, but that didn't mean he knew how to navigate the situation any better than before.

He did turn to face Jason, his expression stoic and grim, and he put his hands on his arms. It wasn't to keep him back. The gesture was instinctive, something he would have done with Tim, Dick, or Damian, and there was barely any strength in the grip at all. "I never did, but it wasn't because your life wasn't worth it to me, Jason. That will never be true, no matter how many times you say it, and I will never claim otherwise. That would be the lie." Jason: "Oh, really? So when the time comes and I put my mask back on and go enact justice my way, you're going to let me come right back here and you'll nothing to say because you're cool with it now?" Letting him into the League was condoning it. At the very least, it was complacency. When had Bruce ever actually been complacent? When had he actually let any of them just be themselves?

"If I was worth it then you would have done it, Bruce. I don't care how many times you say otherwise. I don't even care if you actually believe you're telling me the truth." He probably did think that, even. Jason knew how deep his convictions ran. Bruce might very well be utterly convinced that he meant what he was saying, but that conviction didn't change the reality of it - that Joker had killed him, he'd hurt all of them, and he was still out three walking, talking, breathing...

Bruce: Although he would never condone Jason’s methods, Bruce was more than aware that turning a blind eye to his actions in Star City suggested a level of complacency he rarely exhibited. “You and I will always have different ideas of justice, Jason. But perhaps that is what the world needs. There are enough heroes.”

He shook his head, frowning, but his tone remained even. “If I were to kill Joker, he would never die. His blood on my hands guarantees his immortality. There are greater punishments than death. And there are other ways to kill. You have your ways and I have mine. That doesn’t make what I said any less true.” It was a conversation they would never see eye to eye on, but he would continue to have it, as often as necessary, despite an instinctive urge to shut it down. That was a tendency he did his best to curb in recent years. “We have had enough conflict. I want to work with you, not against you.”

Jason: He half wondered if Bruce had been brainwashed. Maybe having his identity out to everyone had forced him to change the way he did things, but Jason wasn’t as naive as Bruce thought, and he wasn’t buying into his act of compromise. He didn’t believe it for a second. If he went along with it, the only thing that would happen was Bruce realizing his “mistake” as soon as he was actually confronted with it. Where would that leave Jason? Even more screwed.

Even if he had been entertaining the idea, the continued belligerence over Joker did away with it. “His blood on my hands guarantees his immortality. That’s the biggest bunch of bullshit I’ve ever heard. His blood on your hands wouldn’t kill and torment your family or terrorize and poison random citizens, would it? Stop trying to be poetic about cowardice.” Bruce: Disagreements like this always ended poorly, especially when they were with Jason. There was little point in repeating himself when he knew Jason could never understand or be satisfied; it didn't matter if it were the truth or not. Bruce didn't know what Alfred expected to happen from his efforts, but he was confident this was not it.

"It could." The response was immediate, but he didn't intend on offering an explanation. "And it has the potential to do much worse, even now." Moving back, he returned to the computer. He would work on the leads he had with or without Jason's help. "Let me know when you're ready to hear the truth. I refuse to entertain your exhausting inaccuracies on my motivations any longer." Bruce: “Your truth is just that. Your truth.” Jason turned to go, even if he was stuck at the manor on a short term basis. “I’ll be out of here as soon as I’ve got something else set up.” There was nothing else to say, and he didn’t bother to look back again before going back upstairs.

#c: discord #jason todd #bruce wayne

6 notes · View notes

fishfingersandjellybabies · 5 years ago

Text

Even Alone in the Dark - werewolf!jason au

Characters: Damian Wayne, Jason Todd Summary: He didn’t think Jason’s protective streak reached this far. Didn’t think it extended to the streets, to patrol. To his physical person. A/N: I’m going to try not to go two years again between parts, mkay? Bruce absolutely finds out, mostly due to the actual bite wounds Jason left than anything else. But when he gets home, Damian is already bandaged up and in bed, wolf Jason lying next to the bed in wait, so he doesn’t do anything about it. Bruce and Dick do ask Alfred about his injuries and make sure he’s okay though. Dick also asks if Jason had any. Alfred doesn’t mention it to Jason or Damian.

Other Werewolf!Jason things

Jason was protective of him now, more so in his wolf state, Damian took note of that. Damian understood that.

Or at least…he thought he did.

In retrospect, he assumed it was just emotional protection, against his family. Against those who didn’t understand what he’d gone through, tried to pry into his heart when he wasn’t ready.

He didn’t think Jason’s protective streak reached this far. Didn’t think it extended to the streets, to patrol. To his physical person.

So that night was terrifying, to say the least. For so many reasons.

It was a normal patrol. Cool winds, unsafe jumps off buildings, lame muggers giving half-assed effort here and there.

He was alone, but that wasn’t a problem. He didn’t want to be with his father or Grayson right now anyway, not that Todd would allow them to be in the first place. And Todd was out here as well somewhere, but doing his own thing. Whether as a wolf or the Red Hood, Damian didn’t know. Didn’t care either.

Robin just wanted to stretch his wings.

So he couldn’t help but grin, when he saw the gang members gathering in an alleyway. No victim that he could see, but clearly something was going on, with how huddled and close the men were.

This would be fun.

He saw the guns being swapped even as he dropped into the scene – they didn’t bother him. Neither did the six men who turned towards him when he hit the ground.

But youthful invulnerability was a thing. A thing that already had gotten him killed once.

In his mind, the fight was going fine. He had two guys down, and one trying and failing to crawl away like a coward. But he was too focused on the victory he didn’t quite have yet. Too focused on the glee he got while kicking the one jerk in the face, while expertly dismantling and taking the apart the gun they were about to illegally sell.

So he didn’t notice one of the other three find an old wooden board next to the dumpster. Didn’t see as the guy swung it towards him, and aimed for the back of his knees.

He collapsed to his back, head immediately spinning as it bounced off the concrete. The men above him laughed, and there was instantly another smack against his stomach.

Well this is embarrassing, he grimaced, in the process of steeling himself in protection of the next hit that he knew would come.

And then it all happened so fast.

He saw the board raised once more, and tightened his muscles to raise his arms in a block. Already he had the next three steps in his head. Block, swipe his own leg against the one holding the makeshift weapon, then flip back to his feet and start this whole fight over again, back on his terms.

But then there was a flash of black, and the raised board was gone. Not only that, but the man holding the board was gone too.

Gone, but screaming in bloody terror.

Damian sat up to look just as his two remaining attackers turned themselves. One of the thugs swore under his breath. The one attempting to crawl away began to whimper in fear, tears in his eyes.

And the wolf just loomed over his prey, growling.

“Todd…?” Damian whispered, mostly to himself. If the criminals heard him, they didn’t react. The wolf didn’t react either, continuing his growl, baring his teeth. The man beneath him let out a tearful cry, and the wolf snapped at his face. “Todd!”

Jason still ignored him. Instead, he placed a giant paw on the man’s chest, pushing his claws into the skin beneath the shirt.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” The man wailed. “We…we were just having some fun with the kid!”

“…Fun.” Jason’s deep voice rumbled. All of the gang members froze. “You beat up children for fun?”

“N-n-n-not for fun! W-we don’t beat up kids!” The man blubbered. Jason snapped at him again, and dragged his paw down the man’s torso, cutting through the shirt, blooms of blood appearing in its wake. “B-b-but he’s Robin, man! That’s different!”

Jason leaned his head down, taking a large sniff of the man’s face. The man held his trembling hands up in an attempt at protection.

“…No.” Jason decided. “It’s not.”

In a flash, he twisted his head and sank his fangs into the man’s arm.

The man shrieked and thrashed, and his friends all dropped their weapons, or whatever they had in their hands, and took off out of the alley, fearful curses echoing from their lips. The one crawling just squirmed away faster.

Jason didn’t let go, and in fact pulled at the man’s arm. He just screamed again.

“Todd!” Damian yelled, stumbling to his feet. “Stop!”

But Jason didn’t. Released his bite only to relock on another chunk of arm. Yanked on the limb again, until the man let out a bloodcurdling shriek.

“It’s okay!” Damian tried, rushing forward. He tugged at the fur on Jason’s side, but Jason didn’t seem to even feel it. “Todd, I’m okay!”

Jason seemed to not hear him, and as Damian got closer, he almost gasped.

Jason’s face was wild. His eyes were wide, the growl never ending. Spit hung from his lips, mixing with the blood from the man’s arm. His face muscles were contorted and taut. His jaws locked on the man’s arm, unable to be pried apart, no matter how his victim tried.

“Todd, don’t!” Damian shouted, barely heard over the man’s own yells. But as he made his way towards Jason’s front, he saw Jason’s paw shift, lift a little and tilt towards the man’s throat. Damian’s heart was in his throat as he all but leapt the last few feet. “Todd, don’t!”

He grabbed the paw before it could descend, changing its course by ducking under it. Then he threw himself at Jason’s chest, hugging his neck as tight as he could.

“Stop.” Damian begged as he heard Jason’s growl die out, felt Jason’s paw lower, but not onto the man’s jugular. Back onto solid ground, where it belonged. “He’s not worth it.”

Jason jerked as he released the man’s arm, and was silent as he allowed Damian to gently push him backwards.

The man moaned in pain behind them, but Damian ignored him. Kept hugging Jason until he felt the other’s breath begin to calm. Then he pulled back, held Jason’s muzzle in his hands. His eyes weren’t as wild now, back to a normal brown. His face muscles more relaxed, even though the skin around his teeth still twitched.

“You okay?” Damian whispered. Jason just stared down at him.

“I will be when he’s dead.” Jason huffed.

“No you won’t.” Damian paused, looked between Jason’s eyes. “I had it handled.”

Jason snorted. “Not from where I was standing.”

“And where was that?” Damian countered. Before Jason could reply, the man groaned again. Damian released Jason’s face and turned, and immediately felt the warmth of Jason’s fur as he wrapped protectively around him.

Damian regarded the man for a moment, then hit a button on his glove. “I’ve called an ambulance. I’m sure your friends did not before they ran.”

The man clutched his arm, rocking back and forth. “I’m sorry.” He muttered tearfully. “I’m sorry man, I didn’t…”

Jason began to growl again.

“I’d save it if I were you.” Damian tutted, turning and pushing Jason towards the alleyway mouth. He paused, though, and glanced over his shoulder as Jason finally took his lead. “And when Batman asks, tell him your pals did this to you.” Another hesitation. “Or I’ll let the wolf finish what he started.”

He scurried after Jason, then. Hopped on his back, and kicked at his sides as if he were a horse. Jason huffed in annoyance at that, but complied, taking off into the Gotham night.

Damian only looked back once a few blocks away, and saw a dark cape descending into the space from which they came.

“That was reckless.” Damian scolded as they ran. “…You didn’t need to do that.”

“Wanted to.” Jason mumbled. “I said I wasn’t going to let anyone hurt you and I meant it, squirt.”

“…At least let me know you’ll be following me.” Damian grumbled back, embarrassed, heart pounding. “Or better yet, just come on patrol with me in the first place.”

“Thought I might cramp your style.” Jason laughed. It sounded like a howl on the wind. “Besides, the Red Hood was doing his own thing tonight. I heard the scuffle start.”

“How far away were you?”

“A few miles. And human.” Jason shook his head jovially. “Love this wolf shit, kid. I’m telling you.”

Hesperus howled gleefully inside him.

“…It’s not forever.” Damian reminded. “We don’t think.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy it while it lasts.” Jason retorted. He had the sense that Damian was going to say something after that, his mood shifting. But he never did, just squeezed the fur he clung to as reins. “…Now hush up and think up a lie to tell your dad about your new injuries.”

Damian sighed. “He’s going to find out the truth. I’d bet by morning.”

“Oh, come on. Lie to Batman. Live a little.” Jason laughed. “He deserves the headache.”

“I just.” Damian stopped, then leaned forward, hiding his face between Jason’s shoulder blades. “…I don’t want him to punish you for this.”

Jason’s humour dropped off immediately. “Even if he tries, it was worth it.”

You were worth it, Jason didn’t say, but Damian heard it. He let himself smile at that, let his face heat up in a bit of a fluster. But only a little. Only barely.

Not even Dick had said something like that to him. Not really.

“Now relax. Those injuries aren’t a lie, and I don’t want you making them worse.” Jason scolded. “We’ll be home in ten.”

Damian nodded, hoped Jason felt it, and closed his eyes for the ride.

#werewolf!jason au #Jason Todd #Damian Wayne

66 notes · View notes

bigskydreaming · 4 years ago

Note

IGN’s recent Bat-focused article (Batman: What Does Red Hood Need to Do to Get A Good Story?) praises fanfic writers and also is an amazing critique of how stagnant Jason has become under recent DC management and I’m so surprised at how good it is and how well thought out the solutions were

Hmmm. I just looked it up and I mean, I’m not trying to start anything but I both agree and disagree? Like, it makes some points for sure, I mean, its not like its saying things that I haven’t said a thousand times about Dick, like.....these characters need to be allowed access to a full range of emotions, both good and bad, in order to be fully fleshed out, so I mean yes on that premise alone I absolutely agree this is as true for Jason as it is for Dick or anyone else.

Tbh my only real criticism of the piece is it thinks Jason exists in a particular predicament the other characters aren’t in as well. And that I just don’t agree with, like they kinda lost me a bit with their first paragraph:

His complexities and moral ambiguity make him a compelling and distinct character among his more strait-laced Robin-brothers. Sadly, the character has seen little growth since his rage-filled reintroduction into comics. The ‘former Robin becomes a villain’ idea was enough for DC to coast on for a while but since rejoining the heroes, Red Hood has done little else.

First off, this may just be me being pedantic but I’m ALWAYS going to go fetch a grain of salt before continuing reading anything that pits Jason against his brothers in a war of his moral ambiguity against their strait-lacedness. Because to me, that’s just a fundamentally shallow view of the Batfam that caters to the idea that they each must have their own distinct niche in order to be fully viable individual characters, when a) no, and b) they don’t fit neatly into the niches people keep trying to slot them into and it never ends well for anybody.

Like Jason is morally ambiguous in a lot of ways too, yes, but umm, even if we assume that the writer is only speaking of Dick, Tim and Damian, we’re talking a guy who beat the Joker to death with his bare hands and has ten assassins and mercenaries on his speed dial and who co-led the Outsiders, a guy who was deeply immersed in weighing the pros and cons of getting revenge for his father by getting Captain Boomerang killed and is forever being DMed by Ra’s because he’s convinced he can get Tim to say He Has Some Points Actually, and the kid who was an assassin with a body count by age ten and who has struggled constantly ever since his debut to define his OWN personal view of morality that is not wholly predicated on what he was taught by any single individual.

And this is a big part of where I part ways with the article, because I think it falls into the same trap that a lot of people do by believing fanfic is inherently better by doing the same thing from just a different angle. Fanfic CAN be better than the canon, I absolutely believe that, I believe it is at times, but to do so, it has to like, BE BETTER. It has to do things differently, and not just paint a slightly different veneer over the same things. Like, pedantic though it might be, I outlined the above issue because its a mode of thinking the canon absolutely falls into again and again, and just like the writer of that article themselves, like....I think fandom as a whole is no different?

Like, yes there are great stories about Jason out there, some writers have done great and interesting things with him, but that doesn’t mean there’s not a huge trend in fandom of doing the exact same thing I see here.....which is honestly a huge part of the exact same problem the article is decrying canon for......LIMITING Jason (and all the Batfam) by reducing them and their stories to finite niches as a way of spotlighting them as different from their siblings.....except they’re not that different! And that’s okay! They don’t have to be! Families can have lots in common, families DO have lots in common due to like.....shared variables during their formative years.

I mean Jason was heavily influenced by environmental factors in how and where he grew up before he ever met Batman, but like the article goes into itself, he was no less influenced by Bruce himself as his father figure.....which is something he absolutely has in common with his siblings, thus its not hard at all to see how his siblings could have similar complexities and moral struggles that stem from trying to reconcile Bruce’s influence with the many other things and people that have influenced their childhoods.

And similarly, while the article is dead-on about Jason’s stagnancy....this is something that applies in equal measure to the rest of his family, because they’re all facing the same issues in terms of how DC views and utilizes them, and fandom as much as it likes to condemn DC for doing just that....frequently does the same thing. Like, Jason’s stuck in canon, absolutely......but Dick keeps being popped out into his own microcosm to experience a couple years of stories that essentially turn him into completely different characters isolated from every communal part of his character’s history, and then ERASE everything that’s happened at the end of each of these stories and reset him to square one.....and that’s just a different kind of stagnancy that again, still never allows for actual character progression or development. Tim has LITERALLY been regressed back to Robin, like a hard reset that’s its own kind of stagnancy and Damian has had years of character development upended just to kick him back to where he started, effectively strip away all the connections he’s developed at least in any meaningful way, etc.....and the same holds true for Babs and Cass and Steph and even Bruce himself IMO, in a lot of ways.

Its absolutely a problem, but its a problem that extends far beyond just Jason even if he is a great example of it. And its also a problem that extends into fic itself, and that’s why I don’t agree with a lot of the conclusions that article draws beyond just the fundamental “these characters need to be allowed access to a full range of emotions.”

Yes. That. That right there, THAT I think is crucial, but I think that writer needed to widen the scope a little to take in the full impact of what that actually MEANS for the characters....so as to not accidentally repeat the same problem they’re being critical of by essentially arguing for a full range of emotions for Jason....while still defining or viewing Jason through a finite lens of “the more morally ambiguous Bat character, at least as compared to his brothers.”

Because its that last part that’s so detrimental, because it seems like such a little thing at first, until you realize that essentially its just putting a ceiling, a cap on how far those full ranges of emotions can be expressed. Like the problem with Dick Grayson in canon and fanon is NOT that he can’t be written with a full range of emotions.....its that his character absolutely can encompass a wide range of opinions and viewpoints and emotional stances from “I don’t believe in killing as a first option” to “I absolutely can, will, and have beaten a damn clown to death for joking about murdering my brother”.....and he can still walk away as Dick Grayson after expressing both those things, because his character is big enough to include them both. HE’S not limited as a character, its canon writers and fandom writers that both heap artificial limitations of their OWN on him, say that his character is so defined in such a specific way that there’s no way for the latter expression of his character to actually be IN character.....and the fatal flaw here is fully fleshed out characters are never just one thing. They don’t fit in niches anymore than people do, and notice the problems we all run into when we try and pigeon hole people as being just one thing, like humans can’t be contradictory or act against their own self-interest or be hypocritical or evolve or even regress past prior viewpoints....basically, any time you try and sum up a human being in one line, no matter how accurate that description is, there’s still SOME things that are going to be left out of that picture.

Now, these things don’t always have to matter that much, like if I look at a serial killer and say that’s a serial killer, like, I might be leaving out of the picture that once he helped an old lady across the street and didn’t kill her and he doesn’t even know why, and I for one, simply do not care that I leave that out of the picture. Its irrelevant to the big picture for me. I can acknowledge that it adds a smidgen of nuance to that particular picture and then go yeah but also I don’t care, nuance denied.

But in terms of fictional characters, these things that get left in the discard pile when we try and sum up characters as just one thing, like, they can be hugely significant, because characters unlike real people, are simply WHAT WE MAKE OF THEM. That stuff that’s been left out of the big picture look at that character because its stuff most people to DEFINE what that character looks like have deemed irrelevant....its still there, and still perfectly relevant for anyone who wants to pick that stuff up and make something of it, use it to change the overall picture or even just point to ways and places that picture can absolutely encompass and include these other elements and STILL fundamentally be that same picture, that same character.

And this isn’t to say that characters can never be written out of character, its to say that usually IMO what ACTUALLY makes the difference between something being out of character and something just being an unexpected but still valid character choice is just.....how these things are executed. The latter is when writers make the effort to JUSTIFY their character choice, to sell audiences on why and how this is absolutely something this character would do, to take them on a journey of what led the character to making this choice and let them see how those steps actually line up, that’s an actual journey that character might take. The former is when writers just don’t bother and are just like, well here’s a thing that character did, and you know it was in character because well that’s the character and that’s what I wrote them doing lol, what more do you want. No. Yawn. Next.

But the trick is if you’re going to try and make a character a SPECTRUM of emotions and choices rather than just a same datapoint recurring over and over again endlessly, a literal sticking point that never advances, never progresses, never changes......you have to actually give that character free range to utilize that spectrum of emotions and choices.....not just confine them to accessing all those possibilities but ONLY within a narrowly defined niche that is its own kind of limitation.

A character can START from a logline, absolutely. Can BEGIN in a narrative niche as a way to INTRODUCE them as seemingly different from their surroundings or their peers when they do not yet have the backstory, the evidence of past stories and character choices readers can use to interpret their actions or guess their choices.....but narrative niches, IMO, are meant to have a shelf life, an expiration date. They’re a seed for characters to grow FROM, to grow PAST, not return to over and over again.....because that’s when a niche just becomes another house that stagnancy built.

Anyway, thanks for the thoughts and the article mention.....it was an interesting exploration of thoughts for me even if I didn’t ultimately agree with a lot of what was already said....still a worthwhile read though I think and I mean hey, its cool if you still agree with it more even if I don’t, lol. This is just my take.

14 notes · View notes

invisibleanonymousmonsters · 4 years ago

Text

no grave can hold my body down – 2/2

Character: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Summary: It took time to get Jason Todd away from the darkness. Sometimes it felt like he was always standing at a tipping point, at risk of completely losing himself. But not when he was with her. She made him better and she would continue to make him better.

Word Count: 9,000

A/N: I know there are a lot of contradicting opinions on Jason Todd’s height. But for my own wish fulfillment, he is 6′3/6′4ish in this fic.

Part 1

Y/N had fallen asleep after getting home from work. She had a long day and was so exhausted that she passed out as soon as she sat down on the couch. Jason had to take off her heels and drape a blanket over her.

Now he was dressed in his armored undershirt, cargo pants, leather jacket, and tactical boots. His red helmet was tucked under his arm, but he was already wearing a domino mask. If Bruce had taught him anything, it was to be prepared to a point of paranoia.

He crouched down to his knees.

Ever so gently, he brushed Y/N’s cheek.

“Y/N,” he whispered.

She stirred and winced a bit when she opened her eyes, the glare of the quiet television was suddenly harsh.

“What’s going on?” She asked, still half asleep.

“Nothing. Go back to sleep. I just wanted to tell you I’m leaving to go on patrol.”

“Mhmm. OK.” She hummed. “Be careful, J.”

If Y/N ever found out how un-careful the Red Hood was, she would never sleep and she’d probably beg Jason to quit his vigilantism.

“I love you,�� he told her before kissing her on the forehead.

“Love you, too,” she said back so dreamily that it sounded like she was talking in her sleep.

Jason slipped out of the window. He purposely chose this apartment due to the direction the windows faced, the distance from approximate apartments, and the darkness that would prevent any wandering eyes from the neighbors.

He’d been patrolling for a few hours. It was oddly a quiet night. He assumed it had to do with how cold it was outside. Sometimes criminals were weak in the most obvious ways.

Jason was standing on a rooftop, taking a breather when he felt someone drop behind him. He knew his family all too well and could differentiate all of their footsteps. Which was why he didn’t immediately shoot Dick when he thought he’d try and surprise him.

“So, Y/N was quite the hit…” Dick said without giving Jason a proper greeting first.

“What are you still doing in town?” Jason answered.

Dick sighed. “B still needs a little help on the case.”

Jason nodded, not actually caring why Dick was still in Gotham.

Then an awkward silence washed over them. Well, Dick thought it was awkward. Jason couldn’t care less.

“Why won’t you talk about her with us?” Dick’s teasing was gone and his tone serious now.

Jason turned his head away from the city view and finally acknowledged his brother. “You don’t need to know anything about her,” his helmet distorted his words to make them sound even harsher than they already were.

“Doesn’t seem like she completely shares that view.”

Jason didn’t respond. He didn’t appreciate Dick speaking on Y/N’s behalf.

“Bruce seems to like her,” Dick added.

Jason’s head snapped to him. “As if I give a fuck,” he snapped.

Dick had the audacity to laugh. “How did the two of you meet anyway? She was living in New York City when the two of you first met, right?”

“Jesus,” Jason growled. “Did all of you run a background check on her?”

Dick shrugged. “What did you expect?”

————

Y/N didn’t have any idea where she was going. With the sun having already set, she couldn’t even figure out what direction she was headed.

But she had typed the address to her hotel into the Uber app and trusted it from there. She was also too preoccupied still answering the dozens of work emails on her phone.

“Hey lady, we’re here,” the driver said rudely after she didn’t realize they had stopped.

“Oh, sorry!” She said, writing the last few words of a sentence before pressing send.

She jumped out of the car and yelled a thanks before slamming the door shut.

To her surprise, the car raced off without a second’s hesitation.

But when Y/N turned around, she realized she was definitely not in the right place. And for the first time throughout the drive, she realized she was definitely in a bad area.

Y/N heard all of the terrible things about Gotham. Sometimes she wondered if the things about all of the crime were exaggerated by the news or if the city was really rotting from the inside like everyone said. What she definitely didn’t believe in was all the vigilantes that seemed to be protecting the city. No one could ever offer up any proof, even with every single human having a video camera in their hands at all times.

But now she wishing she’d taken people’s warnings a little bit more seriously.

This was definitely not Gotham Heights, where her nice hotel was located.

“Fuck,” she muttered as she whipped out her phone and instantly tried to call another Uber. But the app was being finicky and she was getting a loading screen for far too long.

Then she heard a group of men whistle at her. The streets were filled with literal dumpster fires. There were countless inoperable cars with broken windshields and without wheels. The only women she spotted looked like they were working the streets.

‘Walk, Y/N. Just walk. Act like you know where you’re going.’ Her brain was screaming at her.

So she did while remaining on high alert.

No matter how much she pretended to blend in, she was obviously out of place and sticking out like a sore thumb.

Her heart was racing and she tried to walk as fast as she could without fully running. She just hoped to get to a main street soon and try to catch a yellow cab, since apparently all her car-service apps decided not to work.

But suddenly, a man stepped onto the sidewalk, blocking Y/N’s path forward.

“You lost, sweetheart?” He cooed.

Y/N stopped and started backing away. But when she turned around, she saw that two men were waiting behind her.

“No need to be scared,” the same men said behind her, closer this time. “We just want to talk.”

‘Fuck this,’ Y/N thought before she decided to make a run for it.

But one of them grabbed her and shoved her to the side, pushing her into the alleyway she hadn’t realized they were right next to.

It was so dark that she could hardly make out the silhouettes of her attackers. But that wasn’t going to stop her from fighting. She immediately tried to shove past anyone in her vicinity and hit whoever was grabbing her.

“Get the fuck away from me!” She screamed, hoping that there was someone in this poisoned city that would try and help her.

Except she was outnumbered by three men, which ended in her getting shoved up the brick wall that lined the alley.

“I don’t have any money,” she gasped as a last ditch effort to save herself.

“Who said we wanted your money?” One of them chuckled darkly.

Before their words could hearten Y/N to try another defensive attack and escape, there was a strange zipping sound that echoed down into the alley.

Next thing Y/N knew, the man that was pressed up against her and pinning her to wall was flung off.

Y/N gasped and tried to get her eyes to adjust to the darkness enough so she could actually see what the hell was happening.

“It’s the hood!” One of the men yelled to his friends before making a run for it.

Then a gun was fired off – two shots.

Y/N yelped at the noise and covered her ears.

But when she looked back up, the man who had tried to escape was now on the ground, screaming in pain as he looked down at both of his knee caps that had been shot.

When Y/N turned her attention to the other two men, she finally saw who had interrupted their assault.

It was a man – if that was even what he was – dressed in military gear of some sort. But what really caught her attention was the red helmet that was reflecting the night light and allowing her to actually follow what was happening.

Y/N watched as he punched the daylights out of one of her attackers. She saw the man’s face get more and more covered with blood with each punch.

If Y/N was scared before, she was now terrified.

Without hesitating any longer, she too made a run for it, hoping she wouldn’t be shot like the other runaway.

She sprinted around the corner. But she only got a few yards before the same behemoth landed in front of her.

He was tall, and had to be at least 6’3. Men were confusingly short in New York, so Y/N was still trying to wrap her mind around having to tilt her head slightly up. But then she realized it wasn’t even his height that was jarring; it was how utterly hulking he was. His shoulders were so wide and his chest was massive. His thighs seemed to be the same width has her entire torso.

Everything about him was intimidating and imposing.

“I gotta give you credit for being that fast while wearing heels,” he said to her as he glanced down at her shoes.

It wasn’t exactly comforting that his voice seemed to also be distorted by the helmet.

Y/N was frozen in fear, truly not knowing what he was capable of or even what he wanted.

“You can relax. I’m not gonna hurt you,” he told her with his hands raised. His guns were no longer in his grip, but in their holsters at his thighs.

“You just killed three men,” Y/N told him with a shaky voice as she took a step back.

“I didn’t kill them. But if you want me to, I’d be happy to go back there and finish the job.”

“What? No!” Y/N cried out.

He had the audacity to chuckle at her reaction.

“Where exactly did you think you were going?” He asked her.

“This whole damsel-in-distress thing is new for me. But I thought it made sense to run away from the guy who was shooting people,” she told him quickly.

Jason was grateful that his mask hid all his emotions and facial expressions, because he was smiling at her sass.

He looked her up and down, taking in her outfit and just her overall look. “You’re not from around here, are you?”

“What gave me away?”

He shrugged, ignoring the question. “What the hell are you doing in The Bowery? This is the most dangerous neighborhood in Gotham.”

“My Uber dropped me off here. I thought I was at my hotel and by the time I figured out I wasn’t, my driver had already sped away and left me for dead.”

He took a step toward her. “What’s a gal like you doing in Gotham?”

“I work for an art gallery in New York. But there was an event that I had to attend. I’ve been here all weekend.”

Why was she telling him any of this?

Jason nodded in understanding. “Come on,” he told her.

“W-What?” She asked nervously.

“You’re not gonna get a car in this area. You should report the driver who brought you here in the first place. He knew better.”

He walked past her.

Y/N looked around her, trying to figure out if she even had any other option. She knew he was right about a car, which was probably why she’d gotten a loading screen for all of them when it realized her location.

Yes, he was technically a masked criminal. But he did just save her life, no matter how terrifying it was to watch.

Y/N decided she didn’t have much of a choice.

Before she could move, a motorcycle was being pulled up alongside her.

Y/N eyed it for a moment.

“What’s your name?” She asked him, as if it would make the situation any safer.

“Red Hood,” he told her.

Y/N nodded, not surprised that it didn’t make her feel any better. She realized she was in no position to ask for his real identity. She knew enough about vigilantes to understand that they only survived from hiding their true selves from the criminals they fought and the law enforcement who thought what they were doing was wrong.

“Where are you staying?” He asked her.

“Crest Hill Hotel,” she told him.

“Fancy,” he teased. “Hop on.”

Y/N hesitated before following his instructions. She sat awkwardly on the back of the motorcycle, unsure of what to do.

“You’re gonna want to hold on, beautiful.” He told her over his shoulder as he revved the engine.

Y/N tried to ignore the heat that rushed to her face as he called her ‘beautiful,’ and then she tried to ignore how wide and strong his torso felt as she reached to hold on.

It took 20 minutes to get to her hotel, proving that the Uber driver really hadn’t given a crap about how incorrect her original address had been.

Jason had decided to drop her off in the back entrance to avoid a scene of the infamous Red Hood dropping off an average citizen. He didn’t need that type of attention and Y/N shouldn’t be tied to him in any way.

Y/N got off the motorcycle with a surprising grace and turned to him.

“Thank you for…saving me,” she told him gently.

“It was nothing,” he told her.

Y/N just watched him for a moment, wondering what he looked like under that red helmet and without all the armor.

“What’s your name?” He surprised her by asking.

“Y/N. Y/F/N Y/L/N.”

She didn’t know why she felt comfortable giving her surname. But it just came out.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N. Though, I wish it had been under better circumstances.”

Y/N suddenly dug into her purse, making sure she still had her phone and even just the key to her hotel room.

“Fuck,” she muttered without realizing it.

“What is it?” Jason asked.

“Nothing. I just…it sounds stupid, but I have a little notebook to write down ideas for – well, for my artwork. But it must’ve fallen out back in that alleyway when those guys shoved me against the wall.”

When she looked up at him, it was impossible to know what he was thinking.

“Anyways, thank you again.” She turned to finally walk away.

“Y/N?”

She shouldn’t love how much she loved the sound of him saying her name.

Y/N turned around.

“Stay close to the hotel. Gotham is different than New York City.”

She nodded.

————————

“So, when did you see her again?” Dick questioned after he listened to Jason’s retelling.

“I was helping out a friend with a job in NYC. Things got ugly. I may or may not have been shot when I showed up at her window. Her apartment was in the area and I needed a place to lay low.”

Dick laughed. “Uh huh. Sure you did.”

Jason ignored him. “Anyways, I’d gone back to the alley that night and found that notebook she was talking about, and gave it to her to make up for bleeding all over her couch.”

“Always the romantic,” Dick teased.

Their conversation came to a halt. Instead of talking, they both listened to the city noises that Gotham brought.

“Listen, Jason, I know I did a poor job of being there for you and actually acting like a brother. And I also know you haven’t always been my biggest fan.”

Jason stayed quiet.

“But you deserve to be happy. And we both know Y/N does that.” Dick sighed. “But you don’t talk about her with us and you kept her from even just meeting us after years of you two dating. If we weren’t all noisy and paranoid, we wouldn’t know a thing about her.”

“What’s your point, Dick?” Jason asked roughly.

“No one ever wants to acknowledge this, especially you…but you’re more like Bruce than any of us. And you’ve seen how he pushes people away, keeping them at a distance. Y/N wants to be a part of your life, your whole life. And that includes all of us – whether you like it or not. So, what I’m saying is you don’t have to hide her from us.”

Dick knew not to expect a response from Jason. So he left him where he found him and gave him his space once again.

Jason didn’t have anything to say anyway.

Dick’s words made him angry more than anything. Because he knew they were true. Yes, he saw how Bruce behaved with women. It was promiscuous and casual, because anything else was too close for comfort. Bruce’s priority would always be Batman. And Bruce knew that no significant other deserved his lack of commitment – no matter how much they might love each other.

—————

Y/N was doing her nightly routine and applying moisturizer to her face when she heard it. She could be acting paranoid, but her instincts were telling her something was off.

No, someone was here.

Jason made a point of being loud and immediately announcing when he got home as to not scare her. So, it couldn’t be him.

As quietly as possible, Y/N tiptoed out of the bathroom and to her side of the bed where she kept a titanium baseball bat. Jason had offered her multiple times to teach her how to shoot a gun. But Y/N wanted nothing to do with them.

With the bat in hand, Y/N snuck her way to the living room where she heard the sound.

She had turned off all the lights, making it hard for her to see clearly.

But she did see a large mass standing in the middle of her living room. With just a bit of hesitation, Y/N swung the bat. But the intruder caught the bat, stopping her attack.

They stepped into the moonlight, finally allowing Y/N to see that it was Batman in his full uniform, cowl still on.

“What the fuck. Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” Y/N snapped at him.

“I apologize. I didn’t mean to startle you,” Bruce defended.

But Y/N was still irritated. “Jason isn’t here.”

“I know. I came to talk to you.”

She froze. “Me?”

“I need a favor.”

Y/N narrowed her gaze. “I highly doubt I could do anything to help you.”

“You’re wrong. This has to do with your job. You work at The Drago House.”

Y/N tilted her head and crossed her arms. “Yes.”

“It’s owned by the Ibanescu family. They use it as a front for human trafficking.”

Y/N shook her head. “That can’t be possible…”

“Don’t underestimate the crime families of Gotham, Y/N.”

“So, why do you need me?”

“There are files and codecs that would decipher who their buyers are and where they hold auctions around the world. Nothings digital. They’re old school. With that information, we could shut done their operation forever.”

Y/N’s face was serious now. “What do you need me to do?”

“You have always had access to all the information. You just never knew it. All I need is for you to scan the files.”

She now looked at him suspiciously. “Don’t they say you're the world’s greatest detective? I find it hard to believe that you’d have problems breaking into the gallery after hours to get them for yourself…”

“It’s only completely lockdown as soon as it closes every night. Their security system is high-end and resets every 24 hours. Could we get into it eventually? Yes. But we’ve already been at it for weeks. And we’ve received word that there’s a big…” He hesitated. “…shipment happening any day. We don’t have time to waste.”

Y/N thought about what he was telling her.

“Why didn’t you go to Jason?” She finally asked.

“You said Jason doesn’t tell you what to do.”

Y/N glared at him for using her own words against her.

The apartment went quiet again.

Then Y/N nodded slowly. “There’s an opening tomorrow night. I can get them then.”

—————

Dick’s words haunted Jason for the rest of the night. He wanted to cut patrolling early and just get back to Y/N.

Now he swiftly moved into his apartment from the fire escape and immediately took off his helmet and domino mask underneath.

But Jason froze when he saw Y/N’s bat in the middle of the living room.

His heart raced at the immediate assumption that something happened to her. The furniture was untouched and there were no other signs of trouble, but he still rushed towards the bedroom anyway.

“Y/N?” He called out, despite it being nearly 4AM.

He let out a sigh of relief when he found Y/N slowly waking up from their bed.

“J?” She murmured, half asleep.

“Y/N, why is the bat in the living room?” Jason asked as he rubbed his face and then sat on the edge of the bed near her. Without even thinking, he cupped her cheek.

She rubbed her eyes, trying to wake up more. “I thought I heard something and freaked myself out. But it was nothing.”

“Y/N, how many times do I have to tell you? Call me when shit like that happens.”

“But it was nothing,” she repeated. “What?” She added with a sigh when he was giving her that disapproving look.

“I don’t care if it ends up being nothing. If you’re scared, then I’m going to be here. OK?” Then he finalized his point with a quick kiss to her lips.

She nodded. “OK.”

Then she looked him up and down, realizing that he was still completely in his Red Hood gear, only without his helmet.

“You OK?” She asked in a whisper. Her eyes already scanning his body for any obvious injuries.

“I’m fine,” Jason sighed. “I was just worried about you when I saw the bat. I thought something…”

Y/N quickly sat up in bed. “Hey, hey, hey. I’m fine. I’m OK. I was just being paranoid. I should’ve put the bat back. I’m sorry.”

A comfortable and reassuring silence settled between them.

“Why don’t you take a shower and come to bed?” Y/N offered softly.

Jason nodded and kissed her again.

As soon as he was out of the room, Y/N ran a hand over her face.

She hated lying to Jason. He didn’t deserve it. But she also knew he wouldn’t let her anywhere near an operation that Bruce was trying to pull off. This had to be the same thing that Tim had pulled Jason aside for at the gala.

But Bruce made one thing clear: he needed her help. And he wouldn’t do so if he wasn’t desperate.

———————-

The next night, Y/N couldn’t stop sweating and her heart rate was out of control. She tried to act like this was just another day of work, greeting customers, explaining the pieces, and answering questions.

But the need to get into the back offices when everyone else was gone would not stop nagging her.

With shaky hands, she tapped her ID on the scanner. Usually at this point in an event, all of her colleagues were either on the floor or had called it the end of their work day and headed home.

By some miracle, that was exactly the case.

Y/N locked the door behind her, never having seen a purpose for doing so any other day of working at the gallery.

“OK. OK. OK. Breathe,” she muttered to herself as her eyes scanned the room.

She knew where all the files were in the room. And Bruce had given her the keys to knowing what to look for. Now it was just a matter of putting the two together.

Y/N instantly went to work and started shuffling through papers, finding what was needed.

Bruce had given her a special pen that would scan every file within a second no matter what angle it was pointed at, so Y/N wouldn’t have any suspicious photos on her cellphone.

Y/N was almost done, covered in sweat and with shaking hands, when the door started jiggling.

She swore her heart was about to burst out of her chest.

With pure adrenaline, Y/N quickly put back the files that were in her hand.

But the person on the other side of the door was clearly getting impatient quickly and continued to mess with the doorknob.

Y/N jumped when it was finally kicked open. She whipped around to stare at a man who was nearly the size of Jason, but looked far deadlier. She’d never seen him at the gallery before, which meant he was definitely part of Ibanescu’s gang.

“Can I help you?” She snapped rudely, trying to use her authority to hide her fear.

“What are you doing in here?” He accused.

“I work here. Who the hell are you?”

He ignored her question. “Why was the door locked?”

“You still haven’t told me who you are,” Y/N shot back.

And with that, she straightened her posture and started walking past him. But this man wasn’t as stupid as he looked. Just as she thought she’d slipped away, the man grabbed her by the arm.

“Excuse me,” Y/N hissed.

But he ignored her and started dragging her into the back storage area of the gallery and further away from the crowd.

Y/N tried to rip her arm from his grasp but his grip was vice-like and didn’t even seem fazed by her efforts to escape.

This was not good.

While Y/N was still hopeful that she could possibly talk her way out, she was also realistic.

Which is why she hit a button on her watch.

Jason had gifted it to her very early on in their relationship. It was a classic chronograph watch. But he had installed a panic button onto it.

“If something ever happens – even if you think you’re being overly cautious – you push this and it will send out a signal that I can track. I’ll be there before you know it.” That’s what he had told her when he gifted it, and she’d worn it every day since.

A few seconds later, Y/N was being shoved through the door that led to the back alley.

There was a group of men, just as large and intimidating as the one who still had a grip on her arm.

It was pouring rain and freezing outside. But the slight overhand of the building into the alley protected them slightly.

“What the fuck is this?” One of them asked.

“I found her snooping around in the offices,” he announced.

“I’m one of the directors of this gallery!” Y/N bit back. “I was checking the price points on pieces for a potential customer.”

“The door was locked,” the man added.

They all seemed to be looking at each other.

Y/N was frozen, trying to wait for the perfect moment to make a run for it.

But then she saw one of the men, who appeared to be in charge, eye the pen that was clipped to the pocket of her pants. She prayed that he was too stupid to think it was anything more than just a writing utensil.

But then he slowly walked up to her. He grabbed the pen from her pocket and inspected it.

Y/N swore time froze. She couldn’t hear anything. She couldn’t feel the tight grip on her arm that was surely going to bruise her.

Then the man’s gaze shifted from the pen to her eyes.

“Get her in the car,” he told the group.

Y/N’s heart dropped.

Without hesitating, she immediately started to fight the man holding her. With a swift motion, she kneed him hard in the groin, making him let out a growl and keel over. But he dropped his grip on her arm.

Despite wearing heels, she made a run for it. She didn’t get far, but she got far enough into the rain that she was already drenched.

Another man grabbed her, shoving her against the building and clenching her throat to a point of suffocation.

“You stupid bitch,” her original captor spat as he backhanded her across the face.

Y/N blinked as a ringing started in her ears and her face stung with pain.

“Get her in the car before you make a fuckin’ scene,” the leader warned.

But before they could respond to the command, the street lights went out, causing a surge of darkness to blind all of them.

Y/N tried to step away from her attackers as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. But she couldn’t see a damn thing. The pouring rain was only making it more impossible.

It wasn’t until one of the men cried out in pain and guns started firing that she could see anything. Except it was too fast for her to make out a clear picture. Every so often, a lightning strike or a muzzle flash would give her a short glimpse.

Lo and behold, Batman was taking out the men one by one. But every time Y/N’s eyes focused on his tall silhouette, he’d disappear. She couldn’t keep track of his movements. And apparently neither could any of Ibanescu’s men.

“Shoot the girl!” One of the men yelled.

Y/N’s eyes widened when two of the men turned their guns on her.

But just before they fired off their rounds, a small force tackled her to the side and behind the safety of a giant dumpster.

Y/N looked up to see a young boy shielding her with his own body.

Damian.

Things were so chaotic that she hadn’t even registered he was there, too.

Before she could say anything to him, there was another presence that dropped down beside her. The next second, she was being grabbed and pulled into the sky.

From the feel of his arms alone, Y/N immediately recognized it as Jason.

His grappling gun had brought them to the roof of the building.

Once their feet were grounded onto the roof, Jason barely stepped away and grabbed her shoulders.

Y/N couldn’t read his face from his helmet. But the subtle movements of his head made it clear that he was scanning her body to see if she’d been hit. It only took a few seconds to be convinced that she was clear.

Then he was grasping her face. “Stay here,” he told her before he used his grappling gun to vault back down into the alleyway.

Y/N ran to the edge of the room to look down.

When Jason returned to the fight below, he was ruthless.

Damian had seen the Red Hood with a vengeance many a time. But this… this was something different.

No bone was left unbroken.

Jason wasn’t just neutralizing these men…he was out for blood and pain.

The leader of the little gang was on his knees, covered in his own blood, when he looked up at Jason, who had a gun pointed just centimeters from his head.

“Red Hood, no!” Bruce growled as he threw a batarang, knocking Jason’s gun away from its almost-victim.

Jason whipped his head around. “They were going to kill her!”

“I wasn’t going to let that happen,” Bruce countered.

While they talked, Damian knocked out the man Jason almost murdered. By now, all of them were knocked unconscious or so injured that they couldn’t even open their eyes.

Jason’s entire body froze, realizing what had really happened. Bruce and Damian didn’t just happen to be there to save his girlfriend. This was their doing. They were the ones who had put her in this dangerous situation to begin with.

“What the fuck did you do?” Jason thundered.

Just as a flash of lightening struck, he turned to face Bruce, finding his new prey.

“She had an in and I asked her to use it,” Bruce explained evenly. “She agreed.”

“Of course she fucking agreed!” Jason yelled over the rain. “She’d never say no to helping! And you knew that, and you took advantage of it!”

Then he raised his gun, pointing it at Bruce.

“Put the gun down, Red Hood.”

“Fuck you,” Jason hissed.

The next thing Y/N knew, Jason shot a bullet towards Bruce, causing her to let out a yell from above. In her heart she knew he hadn’t aimed to kill, but Bruce dodged the shot anyway.

Now the two men were fully fighting each other. Bruce seemed to be pulling his punches and just trying to remain on the defense. But Jason wanted revenge. Yes, Bruce and him had a dark history. But putting Y/N in danger erupted something inside Jason that made him see red in a way he never had before.

Just as Y/N was going to call out for Jason to stop, she heard someone drop beside her on the roof.

Dick stood a few feet away, standing tall in his Nightwing uniform.

“Dick, do something!” She begged.

“I can stop Bats, but I can’t stop him,” he told her.

“Then get me the fuck down there! Use your zip-line thingy!”

“Zip-line thingy?” Dick repeated, clearly offended. “This is a grappling–”

“Dick!” Y/N cut him off.

“Right, sorry.” He grabbed her, held her body tight to him, and lowered them down back to the alley.

When Y/N looked up, Bruce was on his knees, trying to catch his breath.

But Jason wasn’t done with him.

“You made it clear that you don’t give a shit about me. But putting the one person I love in danger just for you to solve a case? You’ve reached a new low,” Jason yelled as he slowly started to walk towards Bruce.

But before Jason could reach him, Y/N blocked his path.

She was soaking wet and shivering from both the cold rain and the shock.

Jason could already see the bruises covering her neck and face. He also didn’t miss the small line of blood that had trickled down her nose.

“Jason,” she whimpered. “That’s enough.”

He froze.

Y/N walked to him. “Please, just take me home,” she whispered.

Just seeing her made Jason’s entire body relax. But he was also reminded that she was the priority, not Bruce.

Noticing her shivering, he took off his leather jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders.

Bruce, Dick, and Damian were barely able to see the short, loving moment before Jason flung a smoke capsule onto the ground, covering him and Y/N as he brought her into his arms.

By the time the smoke disappeared, Jason and Y/N were gone.

—————-

When Jason and Y/N got back to their apartment, Jason when into autopilot mode of nursing Y/N. He pulled her into their bathroom and immediately started helping her out of her wet clothes. Y/N couldn’t stop shaking, and he noticed.

Jason only left her side for the split moment when he turned to start the shower, making sure to make it extra hot.

Then he was right back at her side, taking off his uniform and matching her nudity.

When he gently tugged her into their abnormally large shower, there was nothing sexual about it.

Now that Y/N’s skin was bare to him, he looked at all the injuries she had.

There were a few scrapes that would heal in a week or so. But Jason’s gaze went dark every time they lingered on the bruises across her throat, face, and bicep. He should’ve killed all of those bastards.

Y/N leaned into Jason’s chest. “I’m sorry,” she muttered. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Because she knew that’s what this was. Jason wasn’t mad at her – at least, not yet. That could very much come later. But no, right now, he was scared. He put so much energy into keeping Y/N away from his other life, only for her to be thrown right into the center of it. And it wasn’t even his doing; it was Bruce’s.

“I know,” he bent down to whisper in her ear as he wrapped his arms around her.

Y/N didn’t know how long they stayed in the shower. But eventually Jason turned off the water and wrapped Y/N around in a fluffy white towel. She looked so young and innocent.

He moved her to their bedroom and sat her down on the edge of the bed.

Y/N watched him as he moved about the room, getting each of them clothes – all from his own closet.

“Are you hungry?” He asked her carefully as he handed her a pair of his sweatpants and one of his hoodies.

She shook her head.

Jason wasn’t surprised. One of the side effects of trauma and shock was a loss of appetite. But he made her drink a huge glass of water before he let her get in bed. And he made a mental note to make a big breakfast tomorrow when her body recovered and realized how starving it was.

When they were both finally under the covers, Jason didn’t hesitate to pull Y/N completely in his arms, smothering her with his giant frame. She welcomed his touch and warmth, burying her face into his chest.

Neither of them knew who needed this closeness more.

Tonight had been scary. Y/N knew Jason’s anger was bound to show up at some point. But right now, both of them were just grateful they were okay.

————————-

To Y/N’s surprise, she woke up in bed alone.

But her concern didn’t last long as she heard Jason moving around in the kitchen and she could hear soft music was playing if she listened hard enough.

When Y/N moved to get out of bed, she felt all the soreness that came from being grabbed and thrown around like she was last night. She winced, but it wasn’t anything she couldn’t handle. But she made a mental note to hide any signs that she was in pain from Jason.

Over their time together, Y/N and Jason got disturbingly good at reading one another. So, when Y/N walked into the kitchen to find Jason making breakfast, she immediately sensed things were not good. It wasn’t the cooking that tipped her off. His naked back was to her and she could somehow see the tension in his shoulders – in his whole body.

Y/N knows he heard her as soon as she walked into the kitchen.

“There’s coffee,” he says without turning around from the stove. He’s making pancakes. Chocolate chip pancakes, to be precise.

Y/N pours herself some coffee and sits at the table, watching him.

A few minutes pass before she’s had enough of the tension.

“If you’re gonna yell at me, then yell at me,” she told him.

Jason froze for a moment, but then quickly looked at her over his shoulder. “When have I ever yelled at you?”

He had a point.

Yes, Jason was once filled with only rage. There was a reason some feared Red Hood more than the Batman. He was ruthless. Fueled by vengeance, his temper, and his disappointment in the evil that plagued the world. He fought his enemies, but he also fought with his friends and family.

But Jason Todd was none of those things with Y/N. He never lost his temper with her. He never projected his rage and hardships from what he saw as Red Hood onto her. He’d never even raised his voice with her.

“I know,” Y/N admitted. “But I also know you’re still angry.”

Jason sighed, turning off the stove and bringing a giant plate of pancakes to the table.

But Y/N couldn’t eat while having this discussion.

Jason leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You wouldn’t have let me do it,” Y/N countered.

“Yeah, and for good reason.”

“He used you, Y/N.” Jason tried to explain. “You’re untrained… with no exposure to this world. He knew not to involve you and he went behind my back to do it anyway.”

Y/N lowered her head in shame. There was a part of her that felt useless. She couldn’t jump around rooftops and save those who needed it. She was just…normal.

“I just wanted to help,” she mumbled.

Jason leaned forward from seeing her upset. “Y/N, come here.” He reached for her hand and baited her towards him.

She took his offer and moved from her chair to straddle his lap.

Jason held her waist tightly as he pressed his forehead to her’s. “I don’t want to lose you,” he whispered.

“You’re not going to,” she reassured him.

“Please, I’m begging you, don’t ever do something like that again.”

Y/N’s heart hurt at how desperate he sounded. She had realized far too quickly that Jason wasn’t scared of death. He was only scared of her death.

“I promise,” she told him.

“You scared the fucking shit out of me, Y/N.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Jason accepted her apology with a kiss. But it didn’t end quickly. In fact, it got more heated and hungrier. His grip got firmer on her waist.

Y/N knew where this was going, especially as he thumbed the hem of her hoodie and sweatpants. But they both needed this.

“The pancakes, Jason.” She warned him.

Jason smiled as he pulled away from her lips. “Fuck the pancakes,” he told her in between kisses. “I’m takin’ you back to bed.”

—————————

A few weeks had passed since the incident. Y/N tried to get her relationship with Jason back to normal. He still insisted on keeping his vigilante life away from her. But there was more of an understanding for why now.

However, tension had risen again a couple days after the attack, when they received an interesting gift in the mail. They had opened a rather large envelope addressed to the both of them.

Inside were two first-class plane tickets to Paris with their names on them and an open reservation at Hotel Le Royal Monceau.

Y/N had stared at them with more of an understanding than Jason.

She’d looked up at Jason. “I…I told him I’ve always wanted to go to Paris when I first met him at the gala.”

He’d glared at the gift. “Typical Bruce. If he can’t punch his way out of an issue, he’ll try and buy it.”

Neither of them had said anything about actually using tickets and reservation. It just collected dust on one of their end tables.

Now Y/N sat in their apartment alone, reading another one of Jason’s books, when her cell started ringing.

It was a number she didn’t know, but she decided to answer it anyway.

“Hello?”

“Ms. Y/L/N, it’s Alfred Pennyworth,” a charming voice answered back.

Y/N couldn’t help, but smile. As if she knew more than one Alfred in the world. “Hi, Alfred.”

“I thought it would be a good time to give you that lesson you asked for. Are you free today?”

Y/N looked around her apartment. All of her plans for today had consisted of laying around, drinking coffee, doing a bit of reading.

“Yes, today would be great.”

—————

Y/N wouldn’t make the same mistake twice and had given Jason the heads up on her change of plans.

Seeing as Jason had no issue with Alfred, he didn’t seem too bothered bit it all. But he did still tell her to be careful and ended the call with a sincere, “I love you.”

It was strange going back to Wayne Manor when there wasn’t a gala being held there.

Y/N thought it would seem more like a home this time around, but it still felt like a museum to her. And yet, she still had imposter syndrome as she walked through the threshold.

Alfred gave her a warm smile as he opened the door. “It is lovely to see you again, Ms. Y/L/N.”

“Alfred, please, it’s just Y/N.”

He nodded. Then he gestured for her to follow him. “Come. I have a station set up in the cave.”

Y/N stuttered to a stop. “Cave? As in the Bat Cave?”

Alfred seemed amused with her hesitation and concern. “Of course.”

“Should I be – Is that even OK?” Y/N fumbled through her question.

“Well, I don’t see the point of hiding it from you. It’s not like you don’t know all the family secrets already, dear.”

Y/N blinked at that and finally continued following him.

Alfred led her through the secret passage way as if he was taking her to the dining room. She tried to control her reactions and not come off too interested in the details of it all. But it was rather hard.

Just like Alfred told her, there was a little medical station set up in a brighter lit area of the dark and dingy cave.

Y/N half expected him to bring up the recent drama that she’d caused. But ever the gentleman, Alfred didn’t so much as mention it.

He also did as he promised, going through everything she could ever need to know while tending to Jason. He even had little models to practice sewing stitches on. He was a good teacher and Y/N was soaking it all up like a sponge.

She couldn’t imagine her going to med school at any point. But knowing these skills were going to be used to help Jason made it easier to retain.

After hours of teaching, the cave awoke as a carport opened and the batmobile sped in.

Y/N internally swore. She’d hoped not to run into Bruce with this visit. He never seemed to be home, so the odds had seemed low. But clearly she’d messed that up.

Bruce stepped out of the car, taking in the two of them.

“Any injuries, Master Wayne?” Alfred asked politely.

Bruce was about to lie, but he glanced down at his abdomen where it was quite obvious he was bleeding.

“Perfect. My pupil can practice on you,” Alfred announced.

Y/N’s eyes widened in panic. “Oh! That’s definitely a bad idea…”

“Nonsense. Best way to learn is under pressure,” he winked. “I shall go off and start dinner. Let me know if you’re near death, Master Wayne.”

Y/N watched him leave, regretting ever having come here.

When she turned back around, Bruce was removing his cowl.

“He’s right,” Bruce admitted. “Best way to learn is under pressure.” Then he moved to sit in the medical chair.

Y/N swallowed, realizing how dry her mouth was. “Right.”

Her hands shook as she tried to remember everything Alfred had been through. But she knew in the back of her mind that Bruce was fully capable of stitching himself up. So, as much as this was a set up from Alfred, Bruce wasn’t running away from it like she had tried to.

Y/N hadn’t said a word as she cleaned his wound, only apologizing when she thought was necessary – even though he never made a sound of pain or even so much as winced.

Bruce seemed to be following her lead, not wanting to force her to talk if she didn’t want to.

But after 20 minutes or so of silence, Y/N couldn’t take it any longer.

“You know, you can’t buy his forgiveness,” she said as she focused on her stitches.

“I wasn’t only looking for his forgiveness…”

Her eyes flickered to meet his awaiting gaze. “You can’t buy mine either.”

“I owe you an apology,” Bruce began to her surprise. “I should have never involved you. It was dangerous, despite how in control of situation I thought I was.”

“I agreed to it,” Y/N offered. Then she looked at him again. “But I accept your apology.”

A moment passed before Y/N asked, “Are you going to say that to him, too?”

“I would if he would even consider talking to me.”

With that comment, Y/N put down her tools for a second and straightened her posture. “I may not know you very well, Bruce. But I do know that you and Jason are more alike than either of you care to admit.”

She hesitated on continuing. Did Bruce even deserve advice from her?

“He was hurt. And he showed all of you that hurt by being angry, because he didn’t know how else to tell you. He doesn’t feel heard and he doesn’t feel seen. He was lost. And it’s hard for him to just forget how you all handled it.” She took in a deep breath. “But I know he still sees all of you as his family. And you’re the closest thing he’s ever had to a real father.”

Then she quickly grabbed her tools again and cleared her throat. “So, get over yourself, and just talk to him. And I mean actually talk to him – not as Batman and Red Hood, but as Jason and Bruce.”

The cave went quiet.

Y/N couldn’t help herself and looked up at Bruce. Either she was losing her mind or he was giving her a very shy smirk.

“What?” She blurted out.

But before he could answer, a motorcycle sped into the cave.

Y/N would recognize Jason’s bike anywhere. But he wasn’t in uniform. Instead, opting for his black leather jacket and a normal tinted motorcycle helmet.

After he took it off, he eyed the two of them, trying to read the room.

“Hey,” Y/N said shyly.

“Figured I’d come and pick you up,” Jason answered her unasked question, ignoring Bruce.

Y/N looked down at Bruce’s injury. “Actually, I’m all done here.”

“Thank you,” Bruce said sincerely as Y/N covered the wound with a bandage. “You’ll be a better nurse than Alfred in no time.”

Y/N grinned and took off her gloves.

But then she met Jason’s unsure gaze. They had a silent conversation.

“I’m gonna go say goodbye to Alfred,” she quickly told Jason, but really she was telling both of them. “Meet me out front when you’re ready?”

Jason hesitated, but nodded.

Y/N walked to him and gave him a quick kiss for comfort and encouragement.

And then she was off, leaving the two men alone.

Jason shifted his weight, not knowing where to start.

“You’re lucky to have her,” Bruce finally spoke.

Jason winced even though it was a compliment. “I don’t deserve her.”

Bruce stood up. “That’s not true.”

“You of all people know I’m not a good man, Bruce.”

He shook his head. “We may have different views on how to save this city. But we both want the same thing. That doesn’t mean you’re not a good man, Jason.”

Jason blinked at his statement.

“I owe you an apology for... a lot,” Bruce began. “The first is putting that girl in danger.” He paused. “The second was not protecting you – before and after everything that happened.”

“You mean before and after I died?” Jason wasn’t going to make this easy for him.

Bruce’s jaw clenched at that.

“Anything else you want to apologize for?” Jason challenged.

“Yes,” Bruce confirmed. “But I get the feeling that you don’t want to hear it all right now.”

There was a pause.

“You’ll always be my son, Jason. Even if you no longer see me as your father.”

Jason’s eyes filled with tears at Bruce’s words. But he held them back. He couldn’t break down. He couldn’t be weak. Not here. Not now. Not like this.

He couldn’t take any more of this discussion. But he knew this was what he’d been wanting to hear from Bruce for so long.

“I’ll see you around, Bruce.” He told him before putting his helmet back on.

But Bruce had one last thing to say. “Keep her close. Don’t be like me, Jason.”

‘Don’t push people who love you away and make this darkness be your only life,’ was what Bruce would never actually have the courage to say.

Jason now had the cover of his helmet to hide his expressions. But he gave Bruce one last glance before tearing out of the cave.

—————

As Jason pulled his motorcycle up to the front of the manor to pick of Y/N, Damian was playing out front with Titus on the gravel drive.

“Hey, Demon Spawn,” Jason greeted after taking off his helmet.

“Todd,” the boy replied coldly.

To his surprise, Jason got off his bike and walked to him with his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket.

Damian eyed him.

“I saw what you did that night. You saved her life,” Jason said.

Damian waited.

Jason held out his hand. “I just wanted to thank you.”

The boy hesitated before finally shaking it.

Jason didn’t expect Damian to say anything. But he did know talking to him like an adult, instead of a kid, was the only way to get through to him.

Then Y/N was walking out to them with Alfred lingering in the doorway.

“Hi, Damian,” she greeted sweetly before greeting his dog as well.

“Hi, Y/N.”

Jason was surprised he even remembered her name.

“Ready to go?” He asked Y/N.

She nodded. But then reached up to touch the white in his hair. She seemed to have a fondness for it. And Jason didn’t seem to mind.

“You OK?” She asked.

He nodded. “Better.”

She gave him a shy but encouraging look. “I’m glad.”

“I love you, you know,” Jason breathed.

“I know,” she smiled.

---------------------------------

Oh lordy. That took way longer than I was expecting. But kept my mind off of this dumpster fire of a country. And I hope reading it did the same for you ❤️

#jason todd #jason todd fic #jason todd x reader #jason todd reader insert #jason todd angst #jason todd fluff #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood fic #red hood reader insert #dick grayson #damian wayne #bruce wayne #batman #batfam #batman universe

930 notes · View notes