#jokes on you jason the evidence is against you | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lightwing-s · 2 years

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𝐈 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐊__ 𝐘𝐎𝐔

pairing: jason todd x villain! fem! reader

summary: there should be a clear hatred for those you fight against, but nobody told y/n and jason about it.

rating: 16+

word count: pasmem 8,2k warnings: sex jokes, heavy make out session, foreplay

a/n: it took me long, but i hope this long ass post makes up for all the time it took me to write it. i really hope you enjoy this one, as i had a lot o fun writing it, and please let me know what you think about it once you're done reading ♡.

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ! ♡

pt ii

⌜masterlist⌟ ⌜requests⌟

… Explosion at the Yacht Basin. The Tiffany is being exhibited. Hurry.

“Just two miles south.” Jason responded. “On my way.”

Speeding up his motorcycle on the busy and wet streets of Gotham, Jason makes a sudden u-turn and heads back in the opposite direction he was once going. Swerving around the cars, trucks and other motorcycles, he hears back honks and curse words be thrown at him, but he doesn’t care. The adrenaline has woken his body. He can even feel the air blowing on his face, even behind the scarlet helmet composing his vigilante outfit.

He had been starving for action all night. His body needed it. Bruce had been an asshole. Roy had been an even worse ass, and there were tons of other people that had been pissing him off all day. All this built up anger made his body beg for some sort of release, he needed this extra energy gone, and punching someone on the face seemed like a very plausible solution to his problem.

Failing to follow his own mind, telling him to be more careful with his driving after the last incident — that had him not being able to rise from his bed from how much pain his body was in —, he drove so fast his speedometer was hitting it’s other end. He’d definitely get scolded for it at any minute by Barbara through the coms, and not being in the mood for that, he turned his communication off.

As he got closer to the marina, the smoke and fire became more and more evident through the gaps between all the skyscrapers surrounding the road. Pinkish flames flaring up here and there, climbing up the marina’s main building, and releasing smoke fuchsia toned. Upon that sight, Jason’s blood began to boil even hotter than it already was, and if possible, he sped up even more.

Recently, pink flames could only mean one thing in Gotham: Cupid. New psycho in town, got this name from Carmine Falcone himself, for her love to use crossbows and arrows and the hazed state his men were left by the mere sight of her face. Having had the displeasure of meeting her countless times, Jason knew her face pretty well, even if she kept it’s bottom mostly covered. And he was glad she did, as he could not stand the smirk planted on her lips as she managed to piss him off to no end.

She was a good thief, fast and stealthy, to the point one could have her in his hands but blink a little too slow and lose her to the shadows. Smart enough to keep herself out of the records for months, misdirecting her actions to random people, until one she had an accidental run into Robin and Spoiler when leaving Gotham’s Museum of Antiquities with a full bag of stolen artifacts and no sound coming from any of the alarms.

Also, she was really annoying, knowing just the right things to say and do to get under Jason’s skin. And she would linger there for longer than he’d like to admit.

Scared citizens still ran out of the building when he got there, coughing and barely being able to breath due to the exposure to the toxic smoke. Leaving them in the care of the firefighters that had arrived a bit sooner than he did, he darted inside. Knowing pretty well how his opponent worked at this point in time, he got to the room where he was certain he'd find her.

Displays of very expensive jewelry filled the otherwise empty room. It was dark, but the few lights that came in from the glass ceiling — from the moon, the street lamps and the fire burning outside — hit the jewels and the stones, who in turn reflected them beautifully making an almost perfect show of lights that could make many nightclub owners out there feel pretty jealous of the image they could never replicate. Almost perfect because right where he stood he could see the central piece of the exhibit was missing, the big yellow diamond out of sight.

No alarm sounds, no security system activated.

“Looking for this?” asked a voice from behind him, soft, sultry and mysterious. What wasn’t soft, though, was the clicking sound of a pistol unlocking and being settled at the nape of his neck. “Don’t worry, I won’t shoot. I like you too much to hurt you, Red. And also, I don’t want to ruin your face before I get the chance to see it with my own eyes.”

“Give back the diamond, Cupid” he demanded through gritted teeth.

“Oh, they have so many here, they won’t notice I only took one.”

With a swift movement, Jason threw his arm back with force and locked Cupid’s arm under his own, making her drop the gun somewhere far he could only see through the side of his eyes. Now, facing the villain, he kept her arm tightly wrapped around his, somewhat careful to not hurt it while keeping control of the situation.

“I thought guns weren’t your thing.” he said, tightening his hold and making her groan.

“I’m keen on exploring new kinks” she replied. “C’mon, Red! We don’t need this. We’re friends, I can send you a gift card once I sell this to the black market” and with an even quicker movement, Cupid released her arm from Red Hood’s grip and spun around, kicking at his face. Jason dodged it and threw a punch at her that she also skipped, though only for mere inches.

Hitting the back of his knee with another kick, the villain managed to make the hooded hero fall to his knees for a brief moment, giving her an opportunity to run out of the room. Jason darted after her straight away, following her through the corridors and up the stairs, then reaching the glass ceiling of the exhibit. She ran with ease on top of the steel bars holding the glass up, opening a gap between the two of them as Jason, much larger and heavier, had more difficulty in doing the same.

Soon, they exchanged the glass ceiling for a concrete roof when they got on top of the neighboring room. Chasing her dark suited body, he managed to shorten their distance a little when she jumped a small gap and fell onto another building, him not taking long and getting there as well. It was the main structure on fire, the heat from below reaching his forearms, the only part of his body left exposed, unprotected by his jacket.

“Into fire play, Cupid?”

“Ha!” she laughed at his joke, throwing her head back mid run. “Works as a great distraction.” she shrugged.

She was certainly faster than him, reaching the end of that building much sooner, lowering down and grabbing a bag that must have been left there beforehand. Out of it, she took her pistol sized crossbow and turned to him. Not wanting to get shot, Jason zigzagged his way to her, trying to run as fast as he could.

After the sound of the weapon activating, an arrow flew right by his shoulder, cutting a string on his leather jacket. Strike one, thought the vigilante. Nobody does that to his jacket.

This time aiming the gun at the higher building, she shot it and the arrow hooked on the stair house wall. Finally reaching the end of his run and almost at arm’s range with the thief, he jumped in her direction, trying to catch her mid flight, but only just touching the sole of her boots. She was up in the air, flying to the other building, and landed on it with gracious ease, as a pretty bird landed on someone’s finger.

“Pray to catch me, Red” she taunted him once she settled on the other side of the tall gap.

Groaning in frustration, he threw off his jacket, incredibly hot to the touch from being near the fire, and feeling a sting of pain hit his shoulder as he noticed a bleeding wound adrenaline didn’t allow him to see earlier in the same spot his sleeve had been laying on.

“Oh, Red.” she screamed at him, attracting his attention. “I swear you couldn’t turn me on more than you already did, but wow!” sliding her back down the wall of the stair house, she sat on the floor, her legs slightly spread in his direction.

“Shut up!” he screamed back, all his build up frustration sounding through it.

“Oooh come make me…” she moaned, throwing her head back, exposing her glistening neck. Anger blew through his nose, and standing on the edge of the roof, Jason took his grappling gun from his utility belt and aimed it at top of where her arrow still stood. Being soared into the air, he was mere inches from reaching the parapet when he felt his body lose all weight and descend to the floor. His heart fell just as hard, as he noticed the cut wire that once held him up slide right past his face.

However, when he thought the floor was his only destination at that point, strong arms held onto his own, keeping him from falling.

“Thought I was gonna let you die in front of me?” questioned that same sultry voice.

“You fucking cut the wire! What did you want me to think?” he replied, grinding his teeth.

“I removed your hook from the wall” she corrected, matter of factly. “And I did it so we could have a little fun. It was getting boring up here. All alone”

The seductive way she finished her sentence made Jason’s voice put up and look directly at her face. Her lowered eyebrows and the pout she had on her bottom lip — plumb, red and glossy ones — made his stomach turn. Strike two, I hate pouty lips.

Using his free arm to grab onto the railing, he forced his body up with her assistance. He put one of his legs over the parapet and managed to finally set his feet on the ground. He shouldn’t have been affected by what happened. He was used to heights, he knew he could shoot his grappling gun again, he knew nothing would happen. Yet, it did affect me.

His heart was beating fast, his breath caught in his throat. Laying his hand on his tights, he tried to steady his it, to relax his shoulders, and ease his body back to normal. For a brief moment, he imagined himself falling into the fire, the image of being consumed by it scaring him way too much.

“Here, big boy. Take a seat” Cupid forced him on his butt and made him rest his head on the railing. “Jesus, you’re not into rope play? Noted.”

Clicking her tongue, she lowered herself to his level and placed one hand on his knee.

“Really… I want to kill you.” he shook his head, removing his hands from under hers.

“Thought your killing days were over, Red.” she stated, hands going to her waist. “Sadly, it’s not gonna be tonight you get to realize your dream.”

Standing up and wasting no time, Cupid grabbed her crossbow, unloaded it and hit it against the back of his ear — or where she assumed it rested inside the helmet. The clicking of metal into metal echoed in his ears, making him lose his senses for a bit.

It seemed like it wouldn’t stop, the sound reverberating under the helmet. He tried to stand up, but his balance was poor, nearly making him fall once again. Holding his head, he tried to stop the sound, but it was useless. Taking off the helmet was a no no, even if the clear best solution to his pain.

Deciding that loosening it might make the situation better, he pressed the button that would free his skull, but he did not remove the helmet from it’s place. Not long after, the agonizing noise came to a halt, his sight stopped spinning, and he finally could stand up just fine.

But Cupid was gone. Lost to the night, and not a single sign she was even up there with him at some point could be spotted around.

If he hadn’t accumulated frustration enough all night until this point, he was sure that now he had reached maximum storage. Punching the wall, he let go of some of it, but certainly not enough.

Three nights ago, Jason let Cupid escape. Three nights ago, Jason got scolded by Bruce for letting the Tiffany diamond go missing. Three nights ago, he could only think of one thing, and that thing has stayed in his mind ever since.

Tonight though, he would finally put an end to his mental torture.

The heavy sound of rain soon faded as he entered the batcave’s tunnel system, being then exchanged by the echoing sound of his engine against the hollow corridors. The darkness and the cold of that place once made him extremely uncomfortable, but after so long visiting those places, he felt embraced by it, and the solitude, the feeling of leaving the whole world behind, turning it off of his head, made him feel at home.

Underground, he found the metro trails of Gotham’s subway system. This first one he spotted was from an old abandoned line, a new one had been set to finish its construction by the late 2000s, but that clearly did not reach that goal, now resting here, forgotten.

Driving through the empty tunnels, following the directions his computer board had given him, and reaching the marked spot on his screen, he made his motorcycle come to a stop, turning it off, getting down from it and making the rest of his way on foot.

He didn’t really know what he was looking for, but he was warned by Oracle of an explosion caught by the radar. The smell of smoke was present during his ride, but there was no sight of fire. Leaving his headlights on, it helped him find his footing around the area, where he could barely see the tubes and wires drawing parallel lines on the concrete walls, nor the weird engravings he had no idea who — and how — had put them there. Standing still, he quieted his breathing and took some time to listen.

The howling of the wind, the timed buzzing of electricity running through the cables and the distant sound of trains following their course filled Jason’s ear, but something else caught his attention. It was the slight sound of rocks moving to his left that made him turn around and face exactly who he wanted to see.

At the blink of an eye, he had her under his gun’s aim.

“Certainly, this terrain doesn’t favor me at all, does it Red?” she taunted, hands held up in the air like a culprit caught by the police. This time, she had her regular all black attire on, but had no mask and wore a hooded jacket, much like his own. “What do you think? Does it suit me?”

“Where’s the fucking diamond?”

“Sold to the black market. Is this all you can talk about?”

She was quick. She had to be, a diamond as expensive as the Tiffany wouldn’t last long in her hands if word got around she still had it for this long. He knew she had to have a buyer even before stealing it. Yet, Jason innocently thought he could have gotten to her before she managed to trade it.

“Didn’t know you were working for Cobblepot…” he questioned. He had been sent here because they knew Penguin was out and about, planning something for some time, but that they weren’t sure on what it was. Finding her here meant she was somewhat involved in his business, and he didn’t know why and how that was made possible.

“Working with Cobblepot” she cut him off, rolling her eyes in annoyance. “And not by choice.”

“For what then? Doesn’t seem to me like he’s the best match for your skill set.” he commented, interested in knowing why this pairing was ever formed. Penguin was a crime boss who would steal everything and anything that could get him richer, and he had worked with some of the best along the years, although not the best partner they had ever had. Yet working alongside a Cupid seemed especially strange this time, as she had only been on their records for a couple months, and Penguin isn’t much keen on working alongside new flesh. And also, from the little bit he knew about her, she preferred working alone.

“For I have no other choice.” she answered, and he could have sworn her voice had a little crack somewhere between those words. “I guess I should’ve picked a buyer more carefully. Next time I try to sell some stolen goods I’ll have that in mind.” she threw her shoulders back and continued. “Beginners curse. I’ll learn things through time and find the right people who I can trust. I did find you after all, right Daddy?”

Say what?! she caught him off guard. What did she just fucking call me?

“I’m not your fucking Da…” lowering his gun, grunting, he stoped himself from saying the last word.

“Oh? Why can’t you say it?” she mused, excited by his excitation from saying the word. “Say it!”

“Stop.”

“Say it, Red.” she challenged.

“No!” he screamed back, while she continued to taunt him. At a distance, his ears heard the succinct sound of a train coming in their direction and he started to notice the peebles jumping up on the ground. He also noticed Cupid standing right at the middle of the railing tracks. “Cupid, get out of there.”

He tried to plead, but she still happily sang to him to repeat the D word.

“The train is coming! Do you want to die” he got closer, but nothing. She didn’t even flinch at the words train and coming being thrown at her.

“Y/n, move!” he screamed.

“Oh, you know my name?” her eyes widened as she seemed to have grown more excited at the thought he knew her identity. “Only fair you give me yours now.”

Crossing her arms on her chest like a little child would do to its parents, she continued to ignore Red Hood’s pleas as the train announced itself to them by shining it’s lights in their direction.

“C’mon” he grunted, but she still didn’t move.

“Tell me your name” she sang.

“Damn it, it’s Jason. Now fucking move.” He was desperate at this point, as she made no indications she was moving out of the way. Fearful, he started walking in her direction.

“Now, say dad-dy…”

“FUCK!” he screamed and rushed his steps. Getting to her, he jumped into the tracks and held her by the arms, dragging her alongside him out of the railway and onto the opposite wall, fast enough to have the train pass behind them and over the spot she was standing on a second later..

“Why didn’t you fucking get out?” he asked, completely exasperated, pushing her away from his hold.

“You wouldn’t let me die would you?” she pouted at him once more, aggravating his nerves and making him moan in frustration. Why is she so fucking difficult?

“I would kill you if I could.” he stated, getting closer to her face.

“What's holding you back? Papa bats wouldn’t let you?”

Clenching his wrists, trying his best to not throw a punch at her yet and doing his best to hold his anger, he answers through gritted teeth. “I’m past that”

“A mature man”

“Jesus fucking Christ, you’re annoying”

“It’s a talent I’ve curated through the years.” she stated, proud of herself for being an irritating little shit.

“What are you doing down here anyway?” he questioned, remembering his job and the orders he had received earlier.

“Ah…” she looked up, as if trying to remember herself. “Distracting you.”

“Huh?”

“Penguin is planning something tonight and told me to take you out of his way.” He didn’t notice she was this close, but her hands were not at his collar. She fixed something in his chest he failed to see a problem with, her hands sliding up and down his chest.

Shit, Jason thought. He had to get back.

Grabbing her wrist, he removed her hands from his jacket and threw them far away from him. Turning around, he was dead set into returning to the surface. “Oracle, this was a distraction. Penguin is…”

“...Robbing the entire exhibit at the Yacht Club. Yeah, we figured that out. Where were you? Everyone is heading there now.”

“I’m on my way too.” he cut the conversation short, running to his motorcycle.

“Hey, Jay?” he rolled his eyes at the sound of her voice, still walking to his vehicle and getting on top of it. “Could you give me a ride?”

“You gotta be kidding me” he whispered to himself. Looking back at her, arms on her side and big eyes innocencly staring at him, he really wondered if she was being serious or not. What was stopping him from giving her a ride and locking her up afterwards? In fact, that seemed like a very good idea to him. Having her right there, sitting behind him and holding his body, he could be sure she wouldn’t go anywhere…

“My my, you’re actually considering it?” she smirked, breaking him out of his thoughts. “You should go, Red. The sooner you trap Penguin, the sooner I’ll be free.”

And turning her back to him, she disappeared into the darkness once again. This time, he made his way into the shadows right after.

By the time they all had got to the exhibit, the jewels were already gone.

Penguin’s meticulously crafted plan was a success. He had each and every member of the family busy with different affairs, seemingly unrelated, and within large enough distances to the Yacht Basin, that if anyone was seen moving in its direction, they would have enough time to clear the area before they got there. And everything went as planned.

They all wondered, how could they have been tricked like that? So under their noses, so obvious looking on the outside. Yet, they were played like little children.

“We are trying to keep this out of the news until we understand how it all happened. The National Museum won’t be happy with this.”

“We’re working on getting as much information as possible, Commissioner. Penguin can’t have gone too far, this fast.” Batman stated. “These jewels are still in Gotham, and we’ll find them.”

“Good. Otherwise the mayor is gonna want both our necks hanging by morning.” Commissioner Gordon replied, pushing his glasses up his nose bridge and fishing for a cigar he knew he had hid somewhere inside his coat’s pocket.

Hearing their conversion from a few feet away, Jason and Dick watched as the two of them said their goodbyes, and Bruce, in his mighty black cape and cowl, made his way towards the two standing in the corner.

“Are you sure the jewels are still in the city?” Dick questioned, a subtle hint of doubt hidden in his voice, but not daring yet to completely cut this theory out of the question.

“No planes or ships were spotted on the radars. Fleeing the city with millions in gold and jewelry is not going to be easy after the police closed all road exits.” looking back at the Commissioner for a moment, he continued. “Barbara responded that all cameras at the Yacht club were conveniently turned off earlier. But she got a hold of the street vigilance records and caught a truck with suspicious actions coming and going down the street that leads here.”

Walking between Dick and Jason, he ignored their questioning looks and continued.

“I’m taking the batmobile back to the cave. Gather more information on the truck’s route and possible destinations. I need you two on the streets, be my eyes and ears. If anything happens, you need to call me. Immediately” he demanded, blending with the shadows and making his way out of this place, leaving the two brothers all alone.

“I can’t believe Harley was with Penguin on this one.” he heard Dick start. “I was so sure she was trying to break the Joker out of Arkham again. I only realized something was wrong when she was taking too long to take some action .”

His brother’s little adventure with Harley Quinn was at the bottom of the list of things he was interested in at the moment. While he continued to ramble about it, his mind was constantly drawn back to the tunnels and to her.

The way she could get under his skin so easily was something he couldn’t figure out how and why happened. There was only one other person who could do it as easily, but the Joker had killed him in the past, making the reason for his hatred for the Clown Prince of Gotham completely reasonable. On the other hand, he had only known Cupid for some time, met her less than his finger could count, and she really had not done anything more than antagonize him and actually save his life once.

And also, she was kinda hot. It irked him tremendously to even have thoughts about this, but he had to be honest with himself and admit — to him only, and nobody else — that he did have a small, very slight, very little, thing for Y/n. But that was all physical, he only thought she was insanely attractive. She could work her body and her words, clearly, and he was just stupidly weak to have fallen for charm.

“What did he do to keep you away?” Dick asked, having Jason’s attention back to him.

Jason considered if he really should tell his brother or not of what kept him away for so long. He had joked before about how much he seemed to find her out during patrol, and how she often got the best of him, leaving him empty handed. When they found out her real identity, Dick caught a glimpse at how Jason stared at her pictures a lot longer than he usually would.

Coming to a conclusion, he answered without shame. “Cupid.”

Just by hearing her name, Dick’s smile spread on his face, although he’d keep trying to hold it back, his mind getting funny ideas of what the two of them were doing down in the underground.

“It seems like you’ve been finding each other quite a lot recently,” he stated.

“Uh-huh” Jason hummed, agreeing with him but limiting himself to a short and final answer, knowing pretty well where this conversation would go if he stood around for too long. Ignoring anything else Dick had to tell him, he mounted his bike and drove away to work on finding the jewelry truck.

Hours later, when the sun was getting close to coming out of hiding, Jason stood under a railroad bridge, quietly watching the rain fall harshly down the sky and form large puddles on the asphalt. He had been riding his motorcycle all night, looking for that truck or any other indication of Penguin’s work. He drove and drove, but got nothing.

Now, standing there, he had difficulty keeping his eyes open. He awaited something. Something to happen to bring energy back into his night. Something to keep him busy and away from his own thoughts that had been torturing him all that time.

The rain hitting the metal structure over his head was soothing, and did not help his attempts to not fall asleep. Sometimes, a vehicle would pass by his spot and jolt him awake, or water accumulated somewhere would fall down all at once, making a huge noise out of nowhere. Other times, he’d hear mice or the sounds of footsteps coming up top, but would see nobody, animal or human, out there. Worst of all was when trains would pass by the bridge and make everything in a two mile radius to shake.

Tired mind meant thinking of things he wouldn’t want to think about when his mind was properly awake. He closed his eyes and could hear the sultry sound of her voice, or smell the spicy scent of her perfume. He needed to see her again. He needed to let off some steam, all that stored frustration. He needed to see her and make sure she had forgotten about his name. Remembering he did that, he threw his head back and released a heavy sight. It was stupid to have said it, and he didn’t know why he kept doing stupid shit whenever she was around.

Feeling safe in the loneliness, he took off his helmet and got some much needed fresh air. He leaned forward and laid his head down on his motorcycle’s panel, ready for a nap. Bruce wouldn’t notice. Penguin must have already left the city somehow and this whole night of waiting was for absolutely nothing.

Losing to tiredness, he began to dream of meeting Y/n and talking to her again. But the dream wasn’t long, because when he was getting to the good part, something made him jump out of his sleep.

“Is the night too much for the incredible Red Hood?” asked a voice he did not recognize and who he could not see, hiding from the lights, but who he felt came from right behind him. The voice was followed by the sound of two, or was it three, sets of footsteps approaching him.

“Or did that arrowed cunt give you the kiss of death too?” joked another voice, clearly familiar with the first one. Jason still could not see them yet, but knew very well where they stood.

“Are you guys scared to come out of the dark?” he taunted them. “It’s easy to tell me shit when I can’t see who I’m supposed to be fighting with.”

“Isn’t this guy is fucking cocky, Dan?” the second voice commented.

“How many of your friends have left with all working limbs after finding me during a night at their job?” Jason inquired, smirking at the men in the darkness, proud of his high rate of beat down assholes.

“One as many punches I’ll be gifting your face tonight.” one of them replied.

“Then come and get me.” he challenged, arms open in a call for battle.

Upon his call, two tall men left their place in the shadows and ran in his direction. One of them was skinny, and held what Jason identified as a knife in his hands. The other, smaller and a bit heavier, had something shining between the base of his fingers. Standing up from his bike, he cracked his neck, his arms and his fingers, waiting for the action to finally reach him and he slowly paced towards the two guys. Action was on again, baby.

The fact that he was outnumbered did not bother Jason in the slightest, as he defended himself with ease. The other two, although pretty confident when they ran towards him thinking they could give him some bruises, soon found out that defeating the Red Hood was no easy task. Their confidence was rapidly gone.

He managed to divide them. Turning to fight the first one, he grabbed him by his collar, threw him at a metal pillar, causing an echoing sound to reverberate around them, and the man to fall hard on the ground, grunting on the floor and touching his own his to check if they were okay. Now, changing his attention to the other man, he couldn’t find him at first glance, but saw this one trying to sneak around his back and hit him on the head with a large pipe he had found somewhere. Being a smarter fighter, Jason followed him by the noise he was making by breathing, walking and simply existing in around him. Jason knew exactly where he was and avoided the hit. Then, he grabbed the man’s hand and spun his arm around till it made a loud cracking sound and the guy made an even louder and painful scream.

“How many punches did you say you’d give me again?” Jason shrugged. Not a single drop of sweat in his body.

The moaning and groaning of the two guys on the floor were like a symphony to his ears, the perfect credit song for one of his favorite action sequences. Wanting to leave, he looked for his helmet as he didn’t see it where he had left it above his bike. Not on the floor either, and also not rolling to the street.

“Took ill on Thursday, Grew worse on Friday, Died on Saturday, Buried on Sunday”

The words came out of a third voice, perhaps the third pair of steps he had heard along the men’s. But different from the two idiots on the floor, this one definitely activated his fight or flight instincts.

“Solomon Grundy, born on a monday.” The big shadow of the creature turned into flesh and bone, red helmet in hands. Breaking the item as if he was breaking glass, the angry monster threw pieces on the floor, stepped on them with his bare feet and with heavy steps made his way to the Red Hood. “Solomon Grundy, born on a monday”

“Oh shit!” Jason exclaimed as the zombie-like walked closer. “Long time no see, buddy.”

As if disgusted by the nickname, Grundy darted towards Jason, who then ran towards the street in hopes to get more space to fight the big guy. He also hoped the wet asphalt could somehow aid him in bringing down the creature. He deviated several punches, while his own hit the spot a couple of times, but apparently didn’t cause his enemy much pain. Kicking the back of his knees, he made Grundy lose some balance and fall to his knees, giving Jason enough time to think of a plan.

Looking back at his bike, still where he was sitting under the bridge, he decided that the best plan was making a run for it and trying to escape. He didn’t know what and why had Grundy so mad and out of the sewers tonight, as he rarely left his safe spot, but he also didn’t want to stay any longer to figure that out.

“You work for Penguin too, Grudy?” he jokingly asked, making a run to his motorcycle. “Thought of you as better than that.”

“Solomon Grundy… works for nobody” he answered, punching the ground with both of his hands right at the place where Jason had just been standing. Almost out of the street, a car suddenly passed by — for what reason? — and blocked his way, and then another car showed up. Why are all those people driving towards Solomon Grundy? Have they all gone mad?

When he was too worried about the cars and the stupid people driving them, Jason didn’t notice when Grundy approached him and hit him right in his jaw, making him fly across the street. There on the floor, his head spun and everything went blurry as he tried but could not pull himself up from the ground. Damn it, he needed to get out of there.

Getting to his feet, lord knows how, and stumbling to make his way to where he wanted, he heard the swift swish of projectiles flying by his ears, who were then followed by Grundy’s screams and complaints. Two. Three. Four more things hit him, but somewhat running with a spinning head had Jason’s vision go everywhere but nowhere at the same time.

As if that wasn’t enough, suddenly the honking of a car and a pair of headlights were in his face, as he felt the floor shaking from the heavy steps that were also heading his way. Trying to rush, he nearly fell onto the floor yet again, but a loud crash sounded through the whole street and something knocked him down.

His vision was getting darker, and all voices sounded distant, but this one he still could hear clearly.

“Stay with me, Jason. Don’t close your eyes”told him the voice, this time it was soft and sultry. He felt his entire body ache, and his eyes couldn’t stay open even if she begged him. “Hey, Jay.” she called him again, tapping his cheeks with care to try to keep him awake. “Stay with me, please. Stay awake.”

But it was too late. Soon, everything was black.

His head banged with pain. Really, it hurt like crazy. It was not the best sensation to wake up to. His vision still hadn’t settled too, still spinning as he last remembered them. He tried to inspect the room he was in, but he couldn’t identify where he was. He woke up god knows where, but the real question in his mind was in how he got there.

Remembering everything that happened before he blacked out, Jason tried to stand up from the bed he was laid on, noticing his missing shirt and the curatives glued to his chest. He sat at the tip of the cushion, placing his bare feet on the cold floor.

The small room he was in had only the bed he was on and a small table by its side, but it was randomly adorned with small plants, colored glass decorations and a pile of old books at one corner. This didn’t look like neither his or his brother’s home, and it was too small to be anywhere inside the manor. This also did not look like a cell, or a hostage room. It felt too cozy for that.

Gosh, he thought, placing his head on his hands and massaging his temples, I’m knackered.

Forcing his body to comply with his mind, he stood up on his feet, but it immediately felt weak and fell backwards onto the bed.

“Easy, Red” someone rushed beside him, holding his sides to check if he was okay. “You’re still dizzy from all the pain medication I gave. I must admit, I’m not the best doctor you could find.”

“Hmm?” he grunted, confused when he recognized the voice.

“Baby, you were knocked out and saved by Grundy last night. If he didn’t jump after you, you’d have been smashed by that car, like a smashed potato!Jason.” Y/n explained as her face was becoming clear in his eyes. “And I have to be honest here, after finally seeing your face after this long, I can tell you it’d have been a real waste if all of that had happened.”

When this fell to his ears, his hands shot up to his face, noticing his domino mask gone.

“Where am I?” he asked, still groggy.

“At my place.”

“You had the courage to take me to your home?” he questioned, incredulous. Putting her index finger on her lips, she requested.

“Don’t tell anybody.”

“Wh-what…”

“Relax. Just let me check your bruises now that you’re up.” she cut him, grabbing a pastel yellow bag from the table next to the bed, pushing his arms away and settling herself on his lap.

Not believing what was happening, Jason could only stare at her wide eyed as she removed his hair away from his forehead, and cleaned the cuts on his face with a cotton ball.

She was uncomfortably close. Dangerously close to him, and he didn’t know how to react. Her face was mere inches from his, and, as she continued to clean his bruises, he could feel her hot breath hitting his face. He had to blink once, or twice, or thrice, to try to recollect himself and to try and push her away from his lap, but she hooked her lean legs tightly around his waist, silently telling him she wasn’t going anywhere.

“Don’t touch me.” he complained, trying to keep his face away from her touch by awkwardly throwing it back.

“How am I supposed to bandage you up if I can’t touch you?” she rolled her eyes, but he could see a smile gracing her face. Her arms on her hips, she finally had a chance to get a proper look at what she was wearing. She had on a gray tank top and jean shorts that barely covered her legs and left her beautiful tights on display for him to see… and touch, as he placed his hand on top of them “involuntarily”.

“Then get off me” he replied through his gritted teeth.

Pissed off, she straightened her back and looked right into his eyes. Jason suddenly felt small as she proceeded to challenge him.

“Make me.”

And when she didn’t get a response from him, nor a shake of his head or a noise from his throat, she smirked back at him, going back to tending to his wounds.

Jason stood there, quietly and still, watching as she cared for his wounds with utmost concentration. When she was done cleaning his face and chest, after carefully removing the curatives that had been protecting his scratches there, she fished for some medicine to apply on him. She had put everything on the bed, all at an arm's distance so she wouldn’t need to leave his lap to grab anything until she was done.

He winced when she applied an antibiotic cream on his cuts and he felt the itching starting, but she scolded him to get himself together and let her finish with the rest. When he still showed agony on his face, she blew at the spots and softened his pain.

There, on top of him, she was constantly moving. He could feel her crotch sliding against his own, making his mind go places where it shouldn’t be going right now. His hands started sweating, and he tried to clean them on his pants, before placing them again on her legs.

“A-hem” he fake coughted, trying to get her attention. She simply shushed him.

Moving on top of him once again, slightly rising herself from his lap and standing with her knees on the bed, her boobs were then leveled with his eyes. He tried to look away, out of respect, after all he was still raised to be a gentleman, but he lost battle to his worst side, it getting control of him as he threw some glances at her cleavage.

Still on her knees, she lost a bit of balance, almost falling on her back if Jason’s strong hands weren’t at her back ready to steady her back into his lap. A soft thanks left her lips, something that shouldn’t have made his mind go mad, but lord help him, he was going insane.

He was entranced by her. By her beauty, by her kind touch. By her hot breath and the soft smell of coconut shampoo emanating from her hair. He watched her bite her bottom lip in concentration, sometimes switching habits and sucking her cheeks in as she focused on the task at hand.

“Done.” she announced, smiling at him briefly before taking the medicine bag and organizing the bottles, sprays, tubes and bandages inside.

He couldn’t take his eyes off her. He couldn’t look away. And he also couldn’t let her go too far, growing needy of her touch and presence. Growing addicted to finally having her this close. His hands pressed tighter around her waist and tights, impeding her from moving any further.

“You can let me go now, Jason.” And the way she pronounced his name. Oh, the way she pronounced his name. It sounded as if an angel sang him the prettiest of lullabies, or as if the devil seductively listed him all of the most delicious things the world had to give. Her plump lips moved and he got hypnotized.

“I want to kiss you.” he stated, without really thinking of what he was doing.

“You’re drunk on the meds.” she joked.

“No” he shook his head, sitting up straight and getting dangerously close to her face. His lips lingering over hers. They stared at each other's eyes like they were both hypnotized by each other. Nah, they were hypnotized. Their eyes were low but never leaving the other, their breaths mixing together.

Placing a hand on her neck, thumb caressing patterns on her skin, Jason tangled his fingers on her hair and pushed her down onto him. Their mouths collided with each other and moved in perfect synchrony, in the wettest of kisses. Her arms wrapped around his neck, but didn’t stay there for long, as she felt the need to have them all over his muscular chest.

His tongue soon begged for entrance, and she allowed him in without any reluctance.

His hands also roamed her body, desperate to touch her every inch. He drew lines up and down her back, lifting her top all the way to where it reached her bra. He played with its hook as their mouths still danced in the most intense kiss, and unlocked it before she even noticed. He was desperate to take her shirt off, but he didn’t break the kiss. However, hard things had to be done to achieve greatness.

Finally breaking the kiss, he took her shirt off over her head and tried to do the same with her unhooked bra, but her arms locked on her side stopped him from doing it. Before he had a chance to complain, she closed the gap between their lips again, restarting the fire they had briefly put off.

They didn’t let go of each other. There was no need for space, or air. They were consumed by the other taste, the smell, the touch. Starved, actually. Jason was starved. He didn’t know he craved her this bad until he had her in his arms, until her hands roamed all over his body and her hips gridded against his cock with fast movements. When she broke the kiss for air once more, he pouted his lips and she let out a laugh.

“Easy, boy.” she mocked, but soon threw herself on top of him again, laying him down on the bed, scratching his nude chest with her nails, the pain making his pants feel even tighter. As her hands got lower, they soon got to his waist line, where the tightness was making go crazy, agony climbing up his spine anxiously waiting for his release. She played around with the button of his jeans, teasing his patience, caressing his dick over all that fabric. It felt like torture, just as she liked. She like to torture him so bad, and he always knew it. Her hands were full, his side filling them completely, and they kept working their way up and down, often combining the movements with the tightening of her grasp around it and driving him so close to release without even having his member freed.

He was so close, gosh, so close. But then she stopped, his eyes instantly opening as he looked after hers, begging her for an explanation.

“You should rest.” she answered his grunts in complaint, getting off his lap and standing up between his opened legs. He quickly sat up from the bed too, grabbing at the base of her ass, desperately not wanting her to leave him. “I thought you wanted to kill me” she rested her forehead on his, joking at his change of behavior within just a few hours.

“I’m way past my killing days” he said, still out of breath.

She looked him in the eyes once more, staring deep into them. They didn’t hold longing anymore, there was no desire. Instead, her look was soft, warming. He felt safe under it, all his fire suddenly, but not completely, gone. Hooking her bra, she then reached for her shirt he had thrown right behind his back when they were still attached by their mouths. Having to lower herself a little bit to grab it, she provocatively placed her chest right down his nose. Still pumped with desire, Jason kissed the exposed part of her breast, feeling their warmth envelop his wet lips.

“When the effects of the meds are gone” she started, holding his head up by his chin, making him look to her eyes once more. “We can decide if we want to keep playing or not.”

Taking his hands away from her legs, she moved away from him without breaking eye contact. She grabbed a bottle out of the table, taking out of it a small pill. Putting it between her teeth, she walked to Jason, him immediately holding the base of her ass again, and lowered her head so their lips touched one more time. She allowed the pill to drop into his mouth, and as she broke the kiss, he swallowed it alongside all this frustration he could not seem to let off.

Walking out, she left him alone.

He dropped on the bed. Head going back to just moments ago, when she was on top of him and he felt… deep. He felt… he felt his consciousness leave his body. He felt his lids falling, too heavy for him to keep open. He felt it all change, from color to black, once again.

“So, you’re alive?” Dick questioned as Jason stood up for his sofa, protecting his eyes from the sunlight.

Jason was confused. So, was that all a dream?

#jason todd imagine #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #jason todd scenarios #jason todd smut #jason todd #jason todd fanfiction #red hood imagine #red hood x reader #red hood #red hood smut #jason todd x female reader

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melodyatlas · 12 days

Note

Saw you were looking for Tim robin getting sold to Jason fics and I don't have any recs for you, but I do have typin fingers so have a hastily written and drastically unedited snippet :3

"You fucking BOUGHT me?!" Tim snarls in disgust the moment that Jason rips the duct tape off his mouth. "We've been cleaning up the corpses of traffickers you carved up for weeks now, but the second it's me you waltz in as a paying customer?!"

Jason scoffs and tosses his helmet into the corner of the spartan safehouse. "Better learn some fuckin gratitude or else I might just grant that little wish of yours."

He squirms against the ropes hog tying him. They haven't budged an inch the last twenty times he's tried that, but it's the principle of the thing.

"Yeah, right. You are such a godsdamned hypocrite. You talk so much shit about Batman not avenging you, but the second anyone else puts on the uniform you're just fine with them being put in all sorts of danger!"

Suddenly Jason grips his chin in a hold that would be shockingly affectionate if it weren't so bruisingly tight and stares directly into Tim's eyes with manic intensity.

Tim freezes.

Jason speaks low and quiet and quick. "This is not banter; this is not a joke; this is not a threat; you are going to respond to my next question seriously and with nothing but the plain truth. Do you understand me?"

"...Yes."

"Do you want me to hurt them for what they did to you?"

There is something frightening in Jason's gaze beyond just its intensity - something devotional, something like a prayer, something a little like the taunt of 'make my day' but sincere in its pleading and as vulnerable as a confession.

So yes, his gaze is frightening, but Tim is far more afraid of the wanting he's suddenly found within himself. He had only been complaining flippantly, but honestly? Deep down? Tim is jealous of the people Jason kills for.

Tim has had to be strong for so very long - a mother who died young, a father he had to caretake and avoid, a mentor he had to monitor and guide to better health, a predecessor he had to be stronger than in order to withstand what Jason had not survived.

Tim has been left craving this kind of protection. This force of wild, brutal, impassioned retribution in his name, for his sake, done to give Tim alone some piece of mind or personal satisfaction... especially from the very force which had compelled him to believe that he needed to be strong enough not to need such protection.

He had thought that Jason simply would not or could not feel that protectiveness for him, that taking on the mantle had rendered him ineligible for care from anyone altogether, but he stares into the abyss of Jason's eyes and he sees that it was only not extended to him out of respect for his convictions.

It's not enough to see it there. He knows that if he doesn't test this, doesn't have concrete evidence of this carved into someone's flesh, that the second he looks away he'll stop believing Jason's offer was ever real. He can't stand it. He needs to know. He needs to see someone demand that he is worth it.

In a moment of weakness he chooses to be intolerably selfish.

"Please. They deserve it. I deserve it."

Jason smiles, and looks at him like he's his very own miracle. His grip relaxes into a caress of Tim's cheek.

"Then I'll give you water, and I'll feed you, and I'll put you somewhere where you'll be comfortable while you wait for me to get back. Then I will go out and I will make them pay."

---

So yeah! Hope that was enjoyable :3

-redhoodinternaldialectical writing in from my "main" blog

!!!!!!! you just made my day 🥰🥰

very enjoyable 💜💜💜 thank you so much for sharing!!

#jaytim #timjay #in my brain when jason says he'll put tim somewhere more comfortable while he waits hes tying him to the bed instead #he tells himself its cause its just not as much strain on tims muscles #but rly its cause he wants to see him laid out for him #and then when he comes back after hes taken care of those guys #tims all worked up from thinking about what jasons doing for him #hehehe #melody answers #hellispeacefulandempty #redhoodinternaldialectical

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just-my-latest-hyperfixation · 4 months

Note

Hi again! Can't pass the opportunity of suggesting a prompt either ^w^ Thanks so much!

V. "I'm a little disappointed. I expected a bit more of a struggle." for the Vampire / Werewolf AU

Thank you so much! I always love your comments, so I hope this is to your taste as well! ❤️

Leader of the pack

Rated: T

Words: 996

Tags: Vampire & Werewolf AU; Vampire Eddie; Kas!Eddie; Werewolf Steve; Eddie Munson Whump; Jason Carver being an asshole; Blood and violence; Nudity; Eddie is having a bad day

“You know,” the hunter says, and his companions snicker. “I'm a little disappointed. I expected a bit more of a struggle.”

“Well, what can I say?” Kas retorts. “You have very convincing arguments.”

He tries to struggle free, but his skin burns at each contact with the net. It’s woven of delicate silver thread. It might as well be made of steel. His grin turns into a pained snarl, lips peeling back to reveal his fangs.

“You flash those all you want,” the hunter drawls. “You won't be able to for long.”

“What?” Kas sneers at him. “You gonna kill me? I'm terrified.”

The hunter smiles sharply.

“Oh, no. I won't kill you yet. I know there's more of you wretched bloodsuckers lurking in the mountains, and you …” One of his hands grabs Kas by the jaw. “You are going to tell me where to find them.”

Kas snaps at him. The man laughs.

“Patrick,” he says to one of his companions. “Give me the pliers. Let's see how he likes biting once we pull out his-”

He doesn't get any further.

Something rustles and before he has a chance to fully turn, a giant, snarling shadow flies out of the darkness and latches on to his throat.

Kas hits the ground. His skull connects with a rock, and the world descends into a blur of teeth and fur and terrified shouts as more shadows lunge from the forest.

When the fog lifts, the hunters are gone. Their cries mingle with the sounds of howls and snarls in the darkness.

In front of him, staring at him with eyes like liquid gold, is a giant, furry beast.

Kas groans, head thunking back against the ground.

“Fucking mutts.”

The wolf huffs something that might be a laugh. Then, it hunches in on itself and the sound turns into a whine. Kas screws his eyes shut to block out the sight of the shift while the wolf’s pained noises mingle with the crunch and slide of muscles and bones rearranging themselves.

“The polite thing to say would’ve been thank you. I thought your kind was known for their good manners.”

When Kas blinks his eyes back open, the wolf is gone. In its place is a young man. His eyes are more hazel than gold, but still sparkling with smug amusement. His hair is the same caramel color as the fur of his other form.

He’s also bumfuck naked.

“Yeah, well,” Kas says, “I thought yours was known for keeping your noses out of the affairs of other races.”

The stranger huffs again. He stands and stretches - a long, graceful ripple of lean muscle - before he twists around to unsling the leather bag strapped to his back.

“We do, usually,” he says, sitting back on his haunches and rifling through its contents. “However, we tend to take it personal when strangers wander into our territory and hunt down our prey. Animals don't grow on trees, y’know?”

Kas stares at him, because … what? Surely this is a joke, because who'd say something like that with a straight face? The answer to that question, evidently, is naked wolf boy right here, because he refuses to even crack a grin.

“Wha-?” is what he finally says. “What animals? I haven't touched any of your precious prey.”

Wolf boy measures him with a long, doubtful look, like he's trying to figure out whether or not to believe him. Finally, he sighs and pulls his hand from the bag. Glinting between his fingers is a long, jagged knife.

Kas hisses.

Wolf boy rolls his eyes. “Are you always that dramatic? I was only gonna cut you loose.”

The knife slices through the thin thread with ridiculous ease, but it still takes a while to free him. Wolf boy needs to be careful to not touch the silver himself, after all - not the easiest of tasks without even a shred of fabric on his body.

“What’s your name?”

This must be the most bizarre conversation of his long, tedious un-life, he thinks. Exchanging smalltalk and platitudes with a naked werewolf while being cut out of a hunter’s net.

“Kas.”

“Bless you,” wolf boy says. Kas can’t see his face, having turned his back to give him better access to the net there, but he doesn’t need to. He can practically see the dorky grin. “What’s it with you vampires and your stupid, made-up fantasy names, huh?”

“It’s a question of style, alright?” he grumbles. “Not like I’d expect you to get it. What’s your pack leader called again? Otis?”

Wolf boy’s hands freeze, but only for a second. Then, the knife gives one final, brisk tug, and Kas can feel the last of the net fall away from his blistered skin. He can’t quite help the relieved sigh that escapes him.

“Anyhow, it was nice meeting you,” he mumbles, rolling his neck and reveling in the feeling of his powers slowly seeping back in. “Have a nice rest of your life, I guess.”

“Huh?” Wolf boy asks. “Oh no, you got that wrong. You’re coming with us.”

Before he even has a chance to ask what that means, something closes around his wrists. This time, the silver is encased in a thick layer of leather, so it doesn’t make his skin blister and burn. It still draws all of his strength right back out, leaving him weak and harmless like a kitten.

“What the actual fuck?” he snarls as wolf boy hoists him to his feet. “Who the hell do you think you are?”

“Funny that you should mention grandpa Otis,” wolf boy says merrily. “He’s been dead for ten years. My name’s Steve, by the way. Sorry if it’s not fancy enough for your taste. Come on now, I hate making my pack wait.”

Kas is powerless to resist as he grabs him by the elbow and walks him towards the myriad of glowing eyes staring at them from the treeline.

More celebration ficlets

Steve said "I'm the alpha" 😅

Part 2

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie fanfic #steddie brainrot #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #hype's 1k follower ficlets

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makethatelevenrings · 2 years

Text

Puzzle Pieces // J. Todd x f!reader

Requested? Yes!

Warnings: discussions of pregnancy, allusion to abortion, pregnancy scare, emotions

Summary: You and Jason are doing a last minute grocery run when you walk by the period products and realize that you’re late. You’re never late. One negative test, however, could change everything.

“Jay?”

It was the cadence of your voice that alerted something was wrong. A subtle hitch at the end of his name that sent a wave of icy cold chills down his spine. He turned from where he was collecting a massive amount of cup ramen and stared blankly at the thin box in your hand.

Jason was due to go out in an hour, but the two of you realized belatedly that you were out of ingredients for breakfast in the morning. There were two options: run by the corner store and grab some things or send you out alone in the morning while he slept in.

Jason Peter Todd would have to be six feet underground again before sending you out into Gotham when he knew that all the active vigilantes were fast asleep. If you were venturing out alone, it would be when someone was awake.

That found you two in the corner store near your apartment, snickering and trading jokes over your shoulders as you shuffled through the aisles. You were clad in one of his sweatshirts that practically drowned you in the cotton fabric and some basketball shorts underneath that he’s pretty sure you stole from Steph. He kept a close eye on you, his body inching around in the smallest increments to ensure that, no matter what, he was always between you and the door. He’d be damned if he lost the one good thing in his life.

“I…I didn’t realize, but then I saw the pads and…I’m late.” Panic was evident in your voice and no matter how desperately he wanted to fucking throw up in the middle of the bodega right then and there, Jason needed to keep it calm and cool right now. He quickly placed the ramen cups back on the counter and reached out, taking the pregnancy test out of your hand.

“Okay,” he said simply. One of his calloused hands came up and rested on your cheek, cradling your face. Your eyes fluttered shut at his touch, but he could feel the slight tremble in your body.

Fuckfuckfuck. He was on autopilot as he approached the counter, tossed a twenty onto the plastic shelf, and walked out with a pregnancy test in one hand and yours clasped in the other. Jason wants to say something, the right words or placating phrase that will make this all better but he can’t because he can’t fucking think about anything except for the fact that he will be the worst goddamn father on the planet.

Pregnant. Fucking hell. You could be pregnant. They were usually so careful. You were on the pill and he made sure you took it religiously. How the fuck could you be pregnant? He couldn’t be a dad. Willis had been a piece of shit who beat Catherine and basically fucked off into the sunset, leaving him and his mom to fend for themselves. Jason had been just a kid yet he picked his mom up off the ground when she was high out of her mind. Then there was Bruce…

Jason ushered you into the apartment and nudged you gently towards the bathroom. He made sure to lock up behind you and then slowly walked to your bedroom. He leaned against the doorframe and took a moment, just one single moment, to inhale deeply. He needed to be steady and calm for you. He could freak out later when he was patrolling.

Shit, he needed to be suited up and patrolling the Bowery in an hour.

“Babe?” he asked, his knuckles gently hitting the door. You murmured out a quiet welcome and he slipped in before shutting the door behind him. You were curled up against the tub, staring blankly at the wall, and the test rested on the edge of the tub face down.

Jason sat down on the floor across from you and leaned back against the sink. He stretched his legs out and motioned for you to shuffle over to him. “C’mere, sweetheart.”

You dragged yourself across the cold tile floor and settled yourself between his legs, your head resting on his chest. Pressing your ear against the warm scratchy fabric of his shirt and relaxed at the sound of his heartbeat.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

“Christ, babe, why the hell’re you apologizing?”

“I don’t know,” you sobbed. “We’ve never talked about it. God, Jase, we’re barely adults ourselves. We’re still trying to figure out how to take care of Merry and Pippin, for fuck’s sake!” You were referencing, of course, the two cats Jason had rescued from a dumpster one night that now slept every night cuddled up against you. Jason had insisted that they were only staying for the night to get them out of the cold.

That had been three months ago and the furry little bastards were currently asleep on top of your pillows.

“Hey, hey.” His lips brushed across the crown of your head as he shushed you. You were shaking in his arms and he hated this. He hated not being able to protect you. Hell, he’s the one that got you into this situation.

“No matter what happens, I’m all in, okay?” His voice sounded weak to his own ears, but you needed to hear this as much as he did. “Whatever you choose, I will support you all the way, you got that?”

“But what if…”

“Sweetheart, you’re the one in control of your body. Whatever you choose will be the best choice for us.”

You fisted the front of his shirt in your hand and bit back a sob. Jason scruffed the back of your neck in a loving gesture, his other arm curling around your waist and tugging you impossibly closer. Jason felt helpless and for a man accustomed to beating the shit out of his problems, he hated that he couldn’t fix this for you.

Your phone started to sing a little chime and you sniffled, reaching over to shut it off. “That means it’s ready. I…I can’t do it.”

He soothed his hand over your hip and kissed your temple. “I’ll do it.”

Truth be told, Jason was terrified. He tried to ignore the slight tremor in his hand as he reached for the bathtub. He didn’t know how he would react to whatever that little stick said. Christ on a handbasket, one little mathematical symbol might change his entire life. He loved being a brother, not that he would ever tell the little gaggle of brats, and he loved being an uncle to Lian, but a father? Could he do that?

There was one thing he didn’t doubt. You would be the best mother in the world. Fiercely loyal, kind, caring, didn’t put up with his bullshit…he could almost picture a toddler on your hip as you smiled at it. But he didn’t see himself there.

Maybe this was a sign that he had tried clinging to his ill-fated happiness for too long.

“Bubs?” Your murmur knocked him out of his thoughts and Jason shook his head.

“Sorry, I was just thinking.”

“‘S okay,” you said. “I get it.”

Jason inhaled sharply and then flipped over the test. His shoulders dropped at the sight of the minus sign and he extended the test to you. You clasped your hands over the little stick and bowed your head.

Silence enveloped the small, cramped bathroom. Jason studied the broken tile over by the toilet and made a mental note on looking into how to recaulk the shower tiles. They needed another bulb over the sink and maybe a better shower head. Hell, maybe they should paint the bathroom. Anything would be better than the garish lime green the landlord thought would make it look “70s mod”.

“I don’t know what to think,” you finally croaked out. You shuffled out of his hold and turned to face him. His head snapped up and he met your eyes, finding them red rimmed with tears clinging to the edges of your lashes. Jason scooted forward and laid a heavy hand on your knee, his thumb rubbing back and forth.

“Talk to me,” he urged. Selfishly, he needed to hear you voice your thoughts because he was fucking terrified that one day he would come home and find all of your things gone. This life couldn’t be easy for you. He needed to stop doing this shit to you. You deserved a better life.

“I think I need some time to process,” you admitted. “Can I…can we talk about this after you get back?”

That sinking feeling in his chest now felt like leaden rock in his gut. He might prefer a crowbar to the chest instead of the dread that currently consumed him.

“I’m not mad at you,” you blurted out once you saw the wounded look cross his face before he schooled his features like he had been trained. “I’m just feeling a lot of stuff right now and I want to be able to think it out before I say something stupid. I’ll be here when you get back. I promise.”

You reached out and touched his cheek. He turned his head to lay a featherlight kiss against your palm and then stood. “I’ll be home by four.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

He was off his game all night. Jason nearly got shot twice when he finally called it quits and let Steph and Cass take on the Bowery. Dick had tried coaxing out why he was in a piss poor mood, but Jason merely muted his comms and shoved the little device in his pocket. His helmet sat next to him on the roof ledge, leaving him in just a red domino mask.

It was creeping towards three and the tiniest light began to creep across the horizon. The inky black night sky dominated Gotham still and Jason took a little solace in the fact that he was cloaked by the shadows.

It wasn’t enough to hide him from Bruce.

The large shadow of his adoptive father landed beside him. Jason didn’t bother turning to look at him and instead focused straight ahead at the slowly rising sun. Bruce silently sat next to him on the roof, his legs dangling over the side.

Side by side, just like they had all those years ago when Jason was still dressed up as a traffic light and Bruce had been…lighter, for lack of a better word.

“Pregnancy scare,” Jason finally admitted. He knew Bruce wouldn’t ask, but he also knew that Bruce wouldn’t leave until he got a clue as to why Jason was sulking on a rooftop instead of beating the face in of some wannabe trafficker.

Bruce stiffened just slightly and Jason huffed out a laugh. “Relax, it was negative.”

“I thought you would be relieved,” Bruce said. None of his kids had ever expressed any interest in reproducing. In fact, Alfred had money on them picking up his serial adoption habits. Clark was in on the bet too. Bastards.

“I’d be a shit dad,” Jason grunted. “I’d fuck that kid up in the head and probably leave it out on the streets like Willis.”

“No, you wouldn’t.” Bruce said it so calmly. So matter of factly. He said it as if it was the truth engraved in granite.

Jason barked out a bitter laugh. “Yeah, and you’re father of the year, right? You get to bestow that honor on the next asshole?”

There was a slight twitch in Bruce’s jaw, one that no one would notice unless you were one of his family members. His piercing gaze stared out on the city he loved so desperately and then he looked at the son he had lost so painfully.

“You would be an amazing father because you would ensure that you didn’t make the same mistakes Willis and I made.”

Jason sucked in a sharp breath at his father’s soft words. He clenched his jaw shut and shook his head. A gloved hand landed on his shoulder and Jason raised his head, meeting the white lenses of the cowl so many feared.

“You love this city so much that you are willing to go to lengths that I can’t bring myself to do. You do things I don’t approve of, but you do it because you care so much that you feel the pain the people feel. You love deeply, Jaylad, you always have. I failed you as a father so many times. I should have never let you become Robin. I should have never let any of you out in the field. You were…you were just a kid.

But the one thing I will never regret is bringing you into our home and our family. Being your father has brought me the greatest sorrow and immense joy of my life and I would never, ever give that up.”

Bruce pulled away and stood up. “You should go home. Talk.”

Jason swallowed against the growing lump in his throat and nodded. “Right. Thanks. Fuck you or whatever.”

Batman’s lips quirked up at the corner and then he sighed. “Nice to see you too, Hood.”

Jason waited until he slipped back into the shadows before he pulled on his helmet and grappled back to the Bowery. He landed on his fire escape and quickly slid in through the window. His entry disturbed Merry who had been sleeping on the windowsill. The cat hissed at him and then hopped down, probably in search of his brother.

“Sorry,” he whispered to the cat. God, he was so whipped.

“Bubs?” Your tired voice came from somewhere in the direction of the kitchen. Jason closed and locked the window and headed towards you. All the lights in the apartment were off except for the small, single bulb that hung over the kitchen. It bathed you in a warm light, highlighting the tired circles under your eyes.

A lukewarm mug of tea and a thousand piece puzzle was scattered on the table before you, your usual routine when you couldn’t sleep and decided to stay up and wait for him. Jason stripped off his gloves, weapons, and jacket and dumped them on the floor and then he tugged off his helmet.

You loved seeing him right after patrol. Not only were you able to reassure yourself that he was safe, but you also got to see him when he was in his element. Sweat strands of hair curled across his forehead and beads of moisture trailed down his neck before seeping into the collar of his undershirt. His powerful thighs were bracketed by his tactical pants and thigh holsters and you sighed at the mere sight of his legs.

“Eyes up here, sweetheart,” Jason teased. His voice was warm, but it lacked the confidence he normally possessed. You curled your hand around the bottom hem of his shirt and tugged him closer, your lips meeting his in a delicate kiss. His hand came up to cup your jaw and he deepened the kiss.

“I want a baby.” The words spilled out of you faster than you could rein in the thought. Jason’s eyes widened and you cursed under your breath.

“You want…a baby,” he repeated.

“With you. I want a baby with you. Not right now. Not even this year. But, I want a kid someday with you. When I saw that negative, I was relieved and then I was-”

He cut you off. “Disappointed. You were disappointed because for a moment, you thought about it and realized that you actually wanted this. Just not right now.”

You nodded and pushed his curly, sweat-drenched hair back from his face. “A little boy with your eyes and smile.”

“Or a little girl with your hair and attitude.”

“I want that, bubs,” you assured him. “I want it all with you. A kid, a life, a house with a picket fence and two point five kids or whatever the fuck the American Dream is supposed to be.”

His tongue darted out to wet his lips before he replied in a choked voice. “I’m not a good man, sweetheart.”

Now you stood. You pulled his head down so his forehead pressed against yours and you rested your other hand on his chest, right over his heart.

“Don’t you dare say that to me, Jason Peter Todd,” you said fiercely. “You are the only man I love. The only man I trust. I wouldn’t want to do life with anyone other than you. I want it all, the good and the bad. You do so much for me and for this city.”

Your hand smoothed down the hair on the back of his neck. “Let me take care of you for once. Let me protect you from that mind of yours. I want to have a baby with you, bubs, because I trust you more than anyone that you would love and cherish and protect us with your entire being.”

“I would crawl out of a grave and dip into the Lazarus pit again and again if it meant keeping you safe,” he whispered fiercely.

“I know.” Tears were spilling down your cheeks. “I love you, Jason. So much.”

He clasped his hand over the one that rested on his chest. All of the doubts and insecurities started to ebb away with your gentle touch and soothing words. He burned with the very thought of you filled with a reminder of him. A signal that he was somehow lucky enough, good enough, blessed to be able to worship you the way you deserved.

Jason slid one of his hands under your ass and hauled you up so your legs wrapped around his waist. He scooted past the now cuddling cats and headed towards the bathroom as you laughed and wrapped your arms around his neck.

“What are you doing?” you exclaimed as he sat you down on the sink counter. Jason reached for the back of his shirt and shot you an incredulous look.

“What does it look like I’m doing? Strip, we need to practice.”

The sun emerged from the darkness finally and bathed Gotham in a rare cloudless sky, but it went unnoticed to the two of you. You were, well, busy.

Tag List: @khaetiin @mcrmarvelloki @gone-batty-fics @someoneimsure @perpetual-fangirl900 @visagebrise @cursedandromedablack @alexxavicry @havingarebelliousstage @the-wayward-daughter @raging-trash-of-mind @kat-nee @khaylin27

#jason todd imagine #jason todd x reader #jason todd angst #jason todd fluff #red hood imagine #red hood x reader #red hood angst #red hood fluff

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brucewaynehater101 · 22 days

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Gothamites (mostly the older generation) definitely know or at least think that Bruce Wayne is batman.

Like that guys saw his parents die Infront of him, became extremely traumatized and left Gotham for a bit, came back and became an idiot when they knew him as the smart traumatized boy who deeply care about the people around him.

And when he did came back appearances of "the batman" (yes gothamites used to call him the batman when he first appeared it's my little headcanon) and with the newly named "Brucie" going around rumors start to spread.

And when Batman started becoming more and more common gothamites definitely figured it out. Especially when Bruce got little Richard Grayson from the circus and a few months later robin was flying around with batman, and then Jason came along after Nightwing was born and a new robin was flying.

And when Jason supposedly "die" (it wasn't confirmed or deny he just disappeared like that and "Brucie won't tell anyone) and batman became more ruthless with criminals that's when gothamites knew something was up. And they out two and two together and got the idea that batman is Bruce Wayne.

And Bruce Wayne is a billionaire so of course he can get the money for all the tools he use for batman, why didn't they saw it sooner.

So now they decided to play along because Bruce Wayne is still Gotham's little guy.

And when people from other places say that Bruce is batman they will deny it with all their being because "why would Bruce Wayne be batman, that guy fell down the stairs and into the fountain last gala" " Bruce Wayne as batman? You have got to be joking he once got stuck in his office because he forgot it was a sliding door and not a push or pull door"

(sorry if this is bad I don't know much English)

(No need to apologize at all ^^)

Oh? An AU where all of Gotham knows that Bruce is Batman but, for some reason or another, will insistently deny otherwise?

Hmm.... The evidence of Bruce = Batman is stacked against him, but his Brucie Wayne shenanigans do balance it out a bit (idk about you, but if I saw someone shamelessly flirt with everyone and then knock over a chocolate fountain, I would be dissuaded).

I do like the idea that young Bruce (up until he disappeared) emulated the personality of Batman. Perhaps Bruce became colder or whatnot on his travels, but the drama? The glaring, getting into fights, loner vibes, not schmoozing? [not sure what teenage Bruce is canonically like, but I want to imagine he's nothing like Brucie]

Just the whiplash the Gotham socialites must feel at grumpy, teenager Bruce to overly affectionate adult Brucie? Kind of hilarious

While there are some plot holes, it's a great crack AU idea (it almost feels like Gotham is humoring him)

#bruce wayne #dc au #thank you for the ask!!!!

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pumpkinbxtch · 5 months

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Okay so I was thinking a Reyna x Daughter of Neptune reader. Said daughter of Neptune is an outcast due to her heritage and the only thing her powers are good for is destruction but she's ambitious. She believes she can be more and is aiming for the role of praetor. It leads to a rivalry between her and Reyna. However they are both secretly on the side of the Argo II crew during HoO when they're being hunted. And because of it at some point their rivalty turns to trust and they develop feelings for each other.

love in times of war 𓍼

— reyna ramírez-arellano x daughter of neptune!reader

☆ radiostar is playin': get free by lana del rey...!

summary: you and reyna didn't have a great relationship until a common goal brought you together. you have been plotting against octavian's ideals and that has made you closer but perhaps for you it has been a little more than just being closer or being friends... warnings: none a/n: I think it was interesting to do this, I really enjoyed it although I think I will only do Reyna upon requests or if I have a big inspiration.

𓍼

So, you snuck into Reyna's room again. Honestly, you found it hilarious that the guards didn't notice you were out of your cohort. You glanced around before knocking your knuckles against the door, following the pattern she knew all too well.

Even though you knew nobody was probably watching, adrenaline made you sweat, feeling time tick with each second she didn't open the door. When she did, you did your usual, pushing her and swiftly closing the door, lock included.

— Good evening to you too — you smirked, glancing her over your shoulder with crossed arms and a raised eyebrow.

— Praetor Reyna — the humor in your voice made her smile, and you headed to her bed to sit down, noticing the other side was empty since there was no other Praetor, though Jason was still out there, with Percy, who had taken his place just a few weeks ago. But now it didn't matter; both had fled with those others you had no idea what the hell they were doing, but you knew you had to support them.

— I know what you're thinking — her voice startled you, feeling a knot in your stomach you were dying to untie but didn't know how.

— About how I'll steal your praetorship? — You joked with a small smile, and she huffed playfully, tossing her braid over her shoulder.

— You wish — you turned your head and noticed her chocolate eyes seemed to turn black when only the torches illuminated them. Reyna walked toward you with those regal steps that caught your attention, almost stealing it entirely, and that wasn't good since you already dealt with attention deficit, if she did it while you were trying to defuse a bomb, you'd fail miserably. You knew it.

— There's no news — she said softly once she sat next to you, so close you could smell her violet fragrance, the same one she had on her bedside wooden table. You nodded calmly and sat in a way you could face her. You furrowed your brow as you stumbled over the first words, making her lean a little closer to you, which of course didn't help.

— In fact, I don't think I came entirely for that — when your response finally came out of your mouth, it took her by surprise a bit. She narrowed her eyes, and you smiled widely, struggling to bury your embarrassment.

— No?

You shook your head, looking past her. She leaned in a bit more, and you felt your mouth go dry; if it weren't for the dim light, it would be evident that you were blushing from ear to ear.

— So?

—I...— you struggled again trying to formulate a coherent sentence and stopped for a few seconds, thinking about what you could ruin with it. Was it worth it? Or would she think you were a freak? Oh, by Neptune, if you already had enough with your divine lineage, that thought made you take a thousand steps back. Your smile flickered, but in the end, you held it —I think I might just want to see you. We don't need everything to revolve around those seven and Octavian's crappy plans.

Reyna tilted her head with a confused expression, probably because she didn't understand your motive since hers had only been for the good of the camp. She surely didn't understand how you could come up with that after just wanting to steal her position, then being good comrades fighting from within against Octavian's brainwashing, much less in times like these, but you really couldn't stand the idea of hiding it anymore.

— Are you saying you come here out of friendship? — That word pierced your chest, and you struggled with the annoyance it provoked, avoiding it being evident on your face. Reyna was one of the smartest people you had ever met in your life, but you couldn't believe how oblivious she could be about certain things. Then that thought ran down your spine, chilling your blood, what if you had misinterpreted those small acts? You cursed, and your mind raced.

Was it normal for her to seek your hands some nights to hold them? As far as you remembered, you didn't need physical contact with your battle partner to strategize. Or the way she teased you? Sometimes, she would get so close that her minty breath fanned your cheek, making it impossible for you not to face her in the same way, and when you did, the way she smiled at you when her eyes met yours wasn't normal or friendly.

You cleared your throat.

— I don't think friendship is exactly what I mean — your knee sank deeper into the mattress as you leaned a little closer to her, as if you were about to tell her a secret. Reyna's hands sweated as she smelled your Coco scent, but she remained firm because in that game, she was too good. —Do you understand?

The brunette never wished so much to have control over her vocal cords to prevent her words from trembling; she thought she was stepping on a certain floor that could collapse if she said the wrong things.

— I don't understand half-baked explanations — she said reluctantly, and unlike what she would have expected, you let out a huge groan.

— Reyna, something's going on between us. Right? — You took her shoulders, and she couldn't help but lean back. You had never imagined with just that, you could see more fear in her eyes than when she fought beasts triple your size. — If I'm crazy, throw me out of here. I'll live as the rejected I am by my father, I'll never aspire to the Praetorship, but tell me I'm wrong.

— Will you also stop supporting those seven just for that?— You clenched your lips; you could see she was playing with you, but Reyna was on the verge of running out of her own bedroom regardless of the damn rules and punishments they would impose on her.

—That's non-negotiable — you clarified as if it were obvious, silly even to consider letting Octavian win. Reyna hummed, looking over your shoulder, and you clenched yours; she was playing dumb. —You're changing the subject!

— Oh, am I?— You raised your hands, annoyed, and shook your head with irritation. You knew it wasn't a good idea; now you had just thrown everything away. That's what you thought until her lips kissed your cheek. You looked at her as if she had gone crazy.

— Of course, there's something — her voice softened a bit, her gaze fixed on the empty bed in front of you, as if she wasn't dropping a bomb that could make you sink thousands of ships.— But I didn't think it was a good time to say it out loud or I just thought I was being carried away by the strong emotions surrounding us lately.

You understood. You were at war, and everything felt like the last breath, so people tend to cling tightly to what's closest to them, what makes them feel better, just as a way to feel the need to resist, to survive. In the end, it was momentary, but you looked at Reyna, and it didn't feel the same way, you didn't want her just because she made you feel safe in a moment of such uncertainty. It was something more.

You searched for her hand, the one with that ring, and intertwined it with yours, a silent act but with too much emotional weight for both of you.

— I know what it's letting myself be carried away by emotions, I'm a daughter of Neptune — you joked and stroked the back of her hand with your thumb,— but this isn't like that, I wouldn't leave you at the first chance I had. Hell, leave a woman like you? — You scoffed, and she shook her head with closed eyes, releasing a laugh that helped her release the stress of that situation — Grace should have thought twice and Jackson four times, I'm surprised we're even remotely related.

Reyna stifled her laughter, but your goofy smile only encouraged her more to imitate you. Reyna never imagined telling you what you made her feel, never actually, but from that moment on, she was excited about all the things you could do, she was a romantic at heart. Then, like in any romance book she could have read, she took you by the wrist and pulled you towards her to kiss you. One of her hands rested on the back of your head while the other pulled you towards her from the neck of your camp shirt. Her lips were soft, and you couldn't help but kiss her slowly to enjoy that new sensation, she seemed to feel the same by the way she crumpled your shirt.

She pulled away from you with sparkling eyes, and you huffed, making some of your hair fly from your forehead. You felt overwhelmed and too heated, surely at that distance, your blush was noticeable as well as hers that stood out on her brown skin. Reyna smiled eagerly and sat up again, linking her fingers with yours.

—Let's get rid of that grumpy little gnome from power, together.

Your eyes widened with excitement, and you nodded firmly, bumping your forehead with hers and giving her a peck.

— Together.

#maría's shared dreams☆｡ﾟ✧#reyna ramirez arellano #reyna ramirez avila arellano x reader #reyna ramirez x reader #the seven pjo #pjo hoo toa #heroes of olympus #reyna avila ramirez arellano #heroes of olympus x reader #reyna x reader #reyna ramirez arellano x reader #hoo x you #percy jackson and the heroes of olympus #pjo #hoo x reader #camp jupiter

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missbluesunflowersstuff · 11 months

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Some Jason Todd headcanon

I have some headcanon between Jason and the bat siblings . Please respect

Jason has a soft pot for Steph. Why? Well just like him, she was a girl who had hope for Batman, but then Bruce managed to ruin that. Jason knows that feeling, so if she needs it he will help her, no matter where or what it is, he will help her (Jason and Steph are similar in ways no one is ready to talk about yet)

He and Duke are the street smarth in house, they use this to their advantage to annoy the other brothers, especially Dick (Dick is also a street smart because the circus, but jason claims that Dick spent so much time with Bruce and heroes that he lost it)

He favorite brother is Dick, he'll never admit it, but it's Dick (and Damian too)

In the past, when he was Robin, he saw Dick arguing a lot with Bruce (Dick was rarely at the mansion, but when he was present he was yelling at Bruce) and now Jason gives Dick all the credit for it

He also recognizes Dick's efforts "to fix" their relationship and even though he doesn't admit it he appreciates it

Jason don't dislike Damian, he thinks the boy is a little annoy sometimes but in the end he also cares for this boy even with all the shit, think about that older brother who says "Look we gonna in the same school, just don't talk to me, ok? I don't want my friends see me with you" ">tt< I didn't even think about talking to you"

(Jason joined with Bruce to bring Damian back when the boy died, Jason really cares for this little one)

Deep down, Jason feels a strange urge to protect the little robin, as if he was programmed to do so, but he tries with all his might to ignore this order. Jason doesn't understand where this desire comes from and he's sure Damian knows the answer, but Jason never asks because something tells him he won't like the answer

He barely remembers all the details of his league days, plus the training part, but faces and names are all a blur to him

Jason can speak Arabic and Chinese fluent (because league time)

Jason and Damian (in the past) would sometimes fake an argument in Arabic on the main com channel just to annoy Bruce and the others, they weren't even really fighting, just randomly shouting things in Arabic to annoy the others

they rarely do this now, as Jason is under the impression that Dick and Tim know enough Arabic to understand what they are saying

His relationship with Tim is ok now, Jason notices Tim's admiring look at him, but doesn't verbalize anything about it. Nowadays Jason is more angry with Bruce than anything, he understands that the Robins are nothing more than Batman's soldiers and no matter what Bruce says, Jason doesn't believe otherwise

and, just as he would do for others, he would help Tim at any time possible if the boy asked

Jason understands the bad things he did in the past, he knows who he hurt and how he did it, he has some regrets but not for everything, some people really deserver it

Since returning to Gotham, Jason has punched several police officers, why? the pigs were talking nonsense about his brothers. A police officer threatened to arrest Duke? The police car is burning now. Did a cop talk shit about Cassandra? Someone wakes up in the hospital emergency room with no teeth and broken bones. Did a police officer say something racist about Robin's accent? bitch you're dead. A police officer made a joke about Red Robin being in the pride parade? Pig down

police officers in Gotham are not trustworthy, only those who work with Jim Gordon and Jim Gordon himself

It's funny that all the evidence you could have against Jason magically disappears. Jason knows this isn't Bruce's job, Jason can see Batman's disappointed face on him when these incidents happen, but Jason can also see Dick stepping between the two of them, smiling as always and claiming nothing happened

usually Jason doesn't like being in Dick's shadow, but sometimes it's nice to know that Dick still sees him as a little brother

Some batkid headcanon: Damian || Duke || Cassandra || Stephanie || Tim || Jason || Dick

#jason todd #dc comics #batfamily #damian wayne #dick grayson #tim drake #batfam #bruce wayne #batman family #batfam headcanons #batfamily headcanons #duke thomas #stephanie brown #cassandra cain

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shunnedmorlock · 5 months

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the definitive ranking of rhaenyra's marriage prospects

aegon (would've been a trainwreck, but for everyone else. rhaenyra and aegon would be evilmaxxing the entire time)

tyland lannister (lord lannister's brother, would be rhaenyra's pet bureaucrat)

jason lannister (yeah he's kind of a dick but he's still lord lannister)

daemon (through gritted teeth. he got her another dragon, KL, and harrenhal. not great, not terrible)

matthos tyrell's son (as the books evidence, as little respect as the tyrell's get, they're still very powerful)

harwin strong (higher than frey & tully because rhaenyra is least likely to cheat on him, but the heir to harrenhal is no joke)

forrest frey (waaaa the freys are upjumped. don't care, money talks)

grover tully's son (tullys are pretty weak on their own and don't have great control over their vassals, but they might get some on board)

qoren martell (dorne is nice, but you open up all the hysteria about the realm being taken over by a foreign kingdom, and dorne isn't that powerful)

lord tarly's son (higher than oakheart cause i assume the marcher houses have a stronger martial tradition, so are more valuable if it comes to civil war)

lord oakheart's son (fine, i guess)

amos bracken (either side of the feud is low b/c you just get the other against you, but bracken's higher because he doesn't raise the religious question and blackwoods are more likely to swallow their pride because they hate women less)

samwell blackwood (in my headcanon he's just a huge himbo)

laenor velaryon (gay. let him have his boyfriend in peace)

#asoiaf #hotd #rhaenyra targaryen #daemon targaryen #aegon ii targaryen

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punkeropercyjackson · 4 months

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I'm so fucking pissed over the lack of Flowerghost Brothers(Miles and Jason)and Bluepunk Siblings(Hobie and Percy)content rn.Objectively both duos would get along on first meeting if written in-character and like eachother as people and they have a lot of potential for straight up being platonic soulmates by choice thanks to the TONS of things in common between them that also have a few contrasts going on to keep things interesting and there's big ass overlap between the Spiderverse,DC and Pjo fandoms(not necessarily all three at once though)so what gives exactly?Especially seeing as y'all niggas will pair up Jason with every male character in existense but MILES is the only one who's actually a perfect PLATONIC fit for him no change needed and Hobie is deadass the intentionally black Percy Jackson y'all supposedly 'fought' for down to every last detail only he's english and not the protag.Is there a problem?Why do y'all not think Jason and Percy would be best friends with Miles and Hobie over all their actual personalities and stories but jump at the chance to compare them to white boys just BECAUSE they're white boys and straight up say it as the reason often even when it always don't fit?Why can't Miles and Hobie be like Jason and Percy?D'y'all got any evidence against it or even the Percy and GWEN similarities i can pull out of the top of my head that dosen't revolve around not reading comics and not wanting realistic representation in favor of jokes?Do you?

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fanficapologist · 1 year

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Of Dragons and Maelstroms

Themes and Warnings: slow burn, enemies to lovers, blood, violence, explicit language, sexual violence, period-typical misogyny, sexual themes, smut, tension, marriage, jealousy, pregnancy, childbirth, miscarriage, attempted sexual assault, breastfeeding, major character death, divergent timelines

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood/Game of Thrones characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Amidst the whirl of the ball, Maera spent the evening diligently at her father's side, exchanging pleasantries and forced smiles with potential suitors, doing her utmost to banish the memory of her encounter with Aemond. Another trip to the dance floor paired her with the heir of House Swyft, who she had not had chance to speak to properly whilst in the presence of Lord Jason Lannister. Although he seemed to be a well-intentioned man, he proved to be painfully shy. Their dance was a mechanical execution of choreography, neither of them truly engaged enough to strike up a meaningful dialogue

As the evening wore on, the grand feast was announced, and Maera found herself seated beside her father, Lord Jasper, at a table laden with delectable dishes. The aroma of roasted meats, the laughter of revelers, and the clinking of goblets filled the air, creating an atmosphere of merriment and indulgence that defined the essence of the event. Maera’s attention drifted from the food to the small talk with those sitting nearby, including Lord Peake and the heir to the Golden Tooth seat, Lord Lefford. Both men held the promise of advantageous alliances, and Maera added their names to her mental list of potential suitors.

Lord Jasper, sensing her unease, remarked, "You are quiet this evening, child."

In response, Maera half-joked, "I think the wine must have gone to my head," eliciting a chuckle from her father.

Desiring a distraction, she scanned the lengthy banquet tables and caught the eye of Lord Warren Tully, a few seats away. He raised his cup to her with a warm smile, and she returned the gesture, relieved to focus on someone other than Prince Aemond. Maera then turned her attention to the royal table, carefully avoiding looking in the direction of the One-eyed Prince, sensing his intense gaze upon her, to look at her friend the Queen. Helaena looked more uncomfortable than ever sat next to her brother-husband, the inebriated King Aegon, whose posture grew increasingly slouched, much to the disapproval of his mother, Queen Alicent.

Amidst the nobles' chatter and the clinking of goblets, Lord Otto Hightower, Hand of the King, brought the room's attention to the royal table. He did so with a sharp tap of his fork against his glass, signaling that an announcement was imminent. “We must acknowledge how fortunate we all are to be gathered here this evening. The Gods have truly smiled down upon the rightful heir ascending the iron throne by blessing Westeros with a blessed Harvest.”

The assembled nobles erupted in applause and cheers, though Maera couldn't help but roll her eyes discreetly. It was evident that the speech should have been delivered by Aegon, who, judging by his drunken state, seemed incapable of even standing upright. Undeterred, Otto Hightower continued his oration, announcing several honored guests to the grand hall.

“It brings me great joy to announce that the Kings youngest brother, Prince Daeron, the ward of Oldtown, has returned to Kings Landing.”

The nobles responded with cheers and clapping as Maera shifted her gaze to the youngest prince on the left side of the hall, whom she hadn't seen in over a decade. Daeron had grown into a man, with short, curly silver hair and the same bright violet eyes that ran in their Targaryen bloodline. He wore green robes and appeared rather bashful under the attention. Maera couldn't help but smile, noting how much Daeron had come to resemble her own brother, Gwyn.

“The courtship of Queen Helaena’s lady-in-waiting and dearest friend, the Lady Maera of House Wylde has officially begun,” the Hand of the King announced to the room, causing an eruption of applause once more, and leaving Maera taken aback by the public acknowledgment. “The Master of Laws daughter has proved to be a valuable ally upon her return to the Capital, much like her father. The King and Queen would like to wish the contenders for her hand good fortune in their endeavours.”

Maera nodded graciously at the nobles who celebrated Otto’s announcement, looking to her father who bore a a smile of pride. She couldn’t help but be pleased that Lord Jasper seemed happy with her for once. The attention was brought back to the Hand once more as he concluded his speech, he revealed one more guest of honor, as the anticipation in the room grew.

“Finally, it brings me great pride to welcome Lady Floris Baratheon, our future Princess by marriage to Prince Aemond, to court this evening. Once the war is won, there will be another great celebration in this hall for their union.”

Maera's gaze shifted across the room to where Lady Floris was seated at a long table. She couldn't help but be taken aback by the woman's appearance. Lady Floris possessed a tall, slender figure, a stark contrast to Maera's curvaceous form. Her skin was flawless and pale, and she had a captivating doe-eyed expression as she gazed toward the royal table. Maera couldn't deny that Lady Floris was stunning, but beneath her admiration simmered a hint of bitterness.

Turning her gaze to Aemond, she wondered whether he would grow content with this match, especially given Lady Floris' remarkable beauty. Aemond, who had been intently listening to his grandfather's speech, reached for his goblet and took a drink, his eyes wandering across the room until they locked onto Maera once more. Maera couldn't discern the emotion in her own expression, and Aemond's unwavering gaze didn't offer any clues about his thoughts either.

To mask her inner turmoil, Maera shifted her attention to the wine, lifting her goblet and taking deep, steady sips in a desperate attempt to clear her mind.

After engaging in more small talk with potential suitors and indulging in several more goblets of wine, Maera's gaze once again drifted across the room to where Queen Helaena stood, looking rather uncomfortable. Helaena was by her mother Queen Alicent's side, silently observing her husband King Aegon as he flirted with other noblewomen in his inebriated state.

Determined that she'd had enough of the evening's social niceties, Maera made her way toward Queen Helaena. She approached her friend, politely asking, "My Queen, would you like to get some fresh air on the balcony before retiring for the evening?" To this, Helaena replied with a relieved smile and a nod of agreement. As Maera escorted Helaena outside, she noticed Queen Alicent's grateful look, appreciating Maera's care for her daughter.

The balcony offered a peaceful atmosphere compared to the bustling grand hall. The Harvest Moon hung bright and blue against the black night sky, a breathtaking sight. Maera produced a jug of wine, offering some to Helaena, who accepted the gesture. Both women took deep sips, their gaze fixed on the starry expanse above.

Maera took a moment to express her apologies to Helaena. "I'm sorry I haven't spent as much time with you this evening," she admitted, her voice tinged with sincerity. Helaena, understanding the necessity of Maera's interactions with potential suitors, replied with empathy, "It's quite all right, Maera. I hope you met some interesting suitors?"

Now quite tipsy from the wine, Maera found herself overwhelmed with a maelstrom of emotions. She silently feared that her father might betroth her to a dreadful lord who would not respect her but simply use her to produce heirs. She felt a twinge of jealousy toward Lady Floris and her beauty, along with a nagging concern about Aemond's feelings toward his intended. These unwelcome thoughts left her both angry and confused about why she cared so much.

Maera rested her head in her hands, struggling to hold back tears. She wondered aloud threw sobs, "I hate that I was born a woman. I don’t think I will ever be truly happy."

Helaena, the supportive friend, draped her arm around Maera's shoulder, reassuring her, "We will always have each other." Maera nodded in agreement, finding solace in Helaena's comforting presence under the moonlit sky.

As Maera and Helaena embraced each other, finding solace in their friendship amid the evening's chaos, a low, unsettling moan disrupted their moment of comfort. Turning, they were met with the sight of King Aegon, ridiculously drunk and leaning against a nearby pillar. His words, laced with vulgarity, hung heavily in the air.

"What a beautiful sight to see two women holding each other," Aegon slurred, his drunkenness evident. "Although, it would be a more beautiful sight if neither of you were wearing any clothes."

Helaena fell silent, discomfort etched across her face, while Maera, her protective instincts kicking in, shielded her friend from the king by stepping in front of the Helaena, her expression a mix of disgust and defiance. In response to Aegon's inappropriate comment, she asked, "What do you want?"

Aegon's drunken grin wavered as he attempted to regain his composure. "I hope you're happy," he mumbled, "that I agreed to make you future husband the Master of Coin. Perhaps, my Lady, you will come forgive me for... my urges taking over me all those weeks ago.”

Rolling her eyes at the absurdity of his statement, Maera offered a sarcastic, "Thank you, Your Grace, for such an honor."

Aegon, his attention briefly diverted from Maera, turned his eyes Queen Helaena. He looked his sister-wife up and down, pupils expanded with a clear look of lust on his face. With a commanding tone, he ordered her, "Go to our chambers."

Maera, however, refused to let her friend be subjected to Aegon's whims. She stood protectively in front of Helaena and gently assured her, "You don't have to go with him, Helaena."

In the tense moment, Maera couldn't help but confront the drunken king with a touch of defiance. She looked Aegon directly in the eyes and said, "Perhaps, Your Grace, you should find a whore to warm your bed, instead of subjecting the Queen to such disappointments." Her words were laced with a biting edge, clearly meant to challenge the king's audacity.

Aegon's gaze darkened, and he retorted sharply, "You will not stand in the way of me rightfully claiming my wife."

Helaena, caught between her husband and her loyal friend, took a step away from Maera and stood by Aegon's side, her eyes reflecting the defeat she felt within.

Despite the tension and Aegon's crude remarks, he couldn't resist running a finger across his wife’s jaw, wearing a sly smile as he continued, "Helaena knows the way of things. Perhaps, Lady Maera, you should educate yourself if you wish to please your future husband." Helaena's apologetic glance only deepened the awkwardness of the situation.

Maera, her smile forced and her tone dripping with insincerity, replied, "Thank you, Your Grace, for your wisdom and guidance. I will keep your advice close to my heart."

Aegon, still with his fingers on Helaena’s jaw, observed Maera carefully, looking her up and down as he did his wife, finally choosing to fixate on her breasts, biting his lip as he purred, “You are always welcome to join me and your Queen in our chambers, my lady.” Queen Helaena looked at Maera with a terrified look in her eyes.

The wine in her body made it impossible to her not to gag, but Maera managed to put her hand over her mouth as if to contain the shock of the audacious suggestion Aegon had just made. She regained her composure and replied to the King, "I shall decline your request, your Grace. But rest assured, one day, I will repay your kindness, which you have so generously bestowed not only upon me but also onto your wife."

Aegon, seemingly unfazed by her words, turned and left with Helaena, retreating to their shared chambers, leaving Maera on the balcony, seething with anger and frustration at the King's disgraceful conduct.

The night wore on, the sounds of music and revelry from the ball still drifting through the open doors onto the balcony where Maera remained. She continued to drown her sorrows in wine, the alcohol providing temporary relief from the evening's discomfort. In the solitude of the night air, she hid from the ball, her father's expectations, and her looming responsibilities.

Eventually, Ser Arryk, ever the vigilant knight, approached his lady. He inquired with a gentle tone, "My lady, would you like to be escorted back to your chambers?" Maera, her voice laden with the weight of the evening and the alcohol flowing through her, nodded solemnly. "Yes," she sighed, "I've had quite enough of this evening."

As they made their way inside, Maera made a request of her loyal knight. "Please, Ser Arryk, escort me discreetly. I don't want my father or any potential suitors to see me in this state," she implored. The knight, understanding her wish, readily agreed to her request. Walking on the outskirts of the event, they managed to sneak away undetected. Before leaving the grand hall entirely, Maera cast one last gaze upon the festivities. Her eyes wandered across the room, observing the dancing couples, the joyous faces, and the Iron Throne glistening at the back of the hall.

But then, something unexpected caught her eye. Queen Alicent and Prince Aemond were engaged in a conversation with Lady Floris Baratheon, Aemond's future bride. Their faces bore distant expressions that concealed the nature of their discussion. Maera couldn't discern whether it was the wine or the perplexing emotions from earlier in the evening, but seeing Aemond and Floris together ignited an uncontrollable fury within her. Without a word, she stormed her way back to her chambers, leaving Ser Arryk with a curt, "Thank you for your service, Ser. Please, go and enjoy the rest of your evening."

Once within her chambers, the night became a blur. Maera didn't remember Thena helping her undress, but it was apparent that she must have, as there was no way she could have managed on her own. Collapsing onto her bed, her drunken state and exhaustion took over, and she drifted into sleep. But even in her dreams, she could not seem to escape the turmoil within her.

In her mind, she found herself standing in the heart of a lavish chamber, its opulent decor shimmering in the soft candlelight. At the center of it all stood two figures, their faces bathed in desire. Aemond, with his doublet unfastened, revealing his broad shoulders and toned torso, gazed lustfully at Floris Baratheon, wearing a sheer night gown, her hair lose, the black waves cascading down her back. Aemond kept his eyes on Maera as he spun the girl around, her back now to his chest, as he slid the nightgown on Floris off of one shoulder, peppering kisses onto her bare skin.

With an animalistic surge of energy, he ripped the fabric completely, revealing Floris’s completely naked form. She was even more perfect underneath her clothes, not a hair out of place. Her breasts were small and perky, nipples standing to attention at the feeling of the cold. Using one hand, Aemond cupped Floris’s breast, gently squeezing the pebbled nipple between his thumb and forefinger, and used the other hand to trail down her stomach before reaching her heat, eliciting a soft whine from the Baratheon girl’s mouth. Aemond never broke eye contact with Maera as he whispered something inaudible into Floris’s ear, before his fingers parted her folds and began rubbing on her sensitive bundle of nerves.

Maera’s desperation grew, and she cried out, begging for the dream to end. But the dream, relentless in its portrayal of her deepest desires and fears, continued. Floris began to whine and squirm as he moved his fingers to her entrance, thrusting in and out of her at a brutal pace, not distracted even when he went to unclasp his belt and unlace his breeches. Maera could only watch in horror as the scene continued to unfold before her, closing her eyes and putting her hands to her ears to prevent her hearing anymore sounds.

Suddenly, the scene shifted. Maera found herself not as a bystander but as the plaything at Aemonds mercy. She felt the wetness in between her legs increase, and rubbed her thighs together to try and relieve some of the building pressure. Maera’s attention was then drawn to Aemond’s body behind her, his grasp had now moved from her heat to her hips, holding her in place as he grinded against her, the hardness of his cock evident against her arse. He sharply bent her over and slowly dragged the tip of his cock against her folds, moaning her name desperately, lustfully…

The sun has risen, a gentle, golden light that bathed the chambers in a tranquil glow, however the light was too bright for Maera to handle. Thanks to her overindulgence of wine and terrible quality of sleep, all that Maera was left with was a pounding headache, a stain of moon’s blood on her sheets, and the haunting realisation of what the dream had meant. Maera desired Aemond, in more ways than one. With a defeated groan, she pulled her sheet over her head, begging for the day to be over before it had already begun.

Note: Haven’t had a bit of smut in a while! Enjoy, my sister-wives 😘

Tags: @marvelescvpe @grungegrrrl @blue-serendipity @ammo23 @shesjustanothergeek

Thank you so much for reading! Comments, feedback, likes, and reblogs are greatly appreciated 🖤

#maera wylde #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #aemond x oc #chapters #hotd aemond #hotd fanfic #hotd helaena #house targaryen #house wylde

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mattzerella-sticks · 1 year

Text

doth protest - ao3 link

Batman fanfic, Jason Todd-centric, with Batfamily fluff & humor

Jason will show the others how 'not like Bruce' he is. Except even the best laid plans have their own way of coming undone.

Part I

Jason is not the most like Bruce. He isn’t! It doesn’t matter that no one thought similarly, because they did this just to annoy him, because he’d been the first to say, to joke, that Tim was a miniature version of Bruce only for Tim to reverse it back onto him with everyone dogpiling on in seconds, so fast that it gave Jason whiplash.

Except Jason was joking. The others weren’t.

“You’re cunts. Cunts! The lot of you!”

“You started it,” Stephanie says, hovering over his shoulder from behind the couch. Cass stands beside her, behind his other shoulder. “And don’t call us cunts because you can’t take what you try and dish.”

“I can call whoever I want a cunt if I feel like it!”

Damian sighs through his nose. “Real mature.”

“I’m mature-er than you, shorty.”

“I’m not the one pouting like a petulant little child,” Damian asks, briefly glancing up from his video game to smirk at him. “Am I, Todd?”

“I’m not pouting.” Jason unfolds his arms and buries his hands into the couch cushions then he flattens his bottom lip, so it isn’t puckered and bulbous. “I’m saying that… you’ve got to be blinder than a –“ Don’t say it Don’t say it Don’t say it, “ – a bat –“ Dammit! “if you think that I’m anything like… like… him!”

Tim leans against the arm of his chair to better peer at Jason, better creep him out and make his skin crawl, and he begins counting, listing his evidence using his fingers. “You two fight the same, look the same, brood the same… are the most stubborn, the most sensitive. I know you both happen to like that dumb vampire show that was based off those books but’ll never admit it when confronted.”

“It’s not dumb!”

“You’re the only two who order Neapolitan when we go out for ice cream,” Tim continues, “you both have the same taste in women –“

“But not –“ “And men.”

Tim waits, watching him with an arched brow and the barest hint of a curve to his mouth. Jason sinks deeper into the couch. He tells himself not to pout but he’s not sure if that works.

“I can go on,” Tim says, “if you want me to, that is?”

Jason huffs, “I think you’ve made your point…”

“And you both can’t take a joke!” Stephanie slaps him on the shoulder, “That should’ve been the first thing you said, Tim.”

“Well, it was so obvious…”

“Like I said,” Jason rises and brushes his hands down his chest, flicking his hands at its creases, at imaginary dust, at them, “cunts. I’m surrounded by cunts.”

“You’re the one acting like a cunt!” Stephanie slaps him again. Hard. It echoes in the lounge where they’d gathered and has Jason biting his cheek to keep from yelping. “So why don’t you quit acting like a brat and sit back down.”

“No! Better I act like a bratty cunt than him.”

“You say this as if Bruce doesn’t behave like a bratty cunt sometimes?” Cas asks him. She had enough genuine curiosity in her voice that Jason’s only response is to deflate and return to where he’d been sitting. His plop was louder than Stephanie’s slap. “Doesn’t he?”

“Whatever,” Jason grumbles, low and under his breath, instead of answering. He folds his arms. He pouts, fuck what Damian might say, he pouts! “Would Bruce sit here and let himself be spoken to like this? I don’t think so…”

Stephanie perches herself on his shoulder, brings her face close enough to his ear so that her whisper sends a shiver running across his spine worse than being in the same room as Mr. Freeze. “He absolutely would, and you know it.”

She was right. Jason hated her for it. He hated pretty much everyone right then.

Even Duke, who’d kept mostly silent until now.

“It’s not a bad thing,” he said. “Being like Bruce.”

“It is when I’ve spent so much of my life making my brand about how not Bruce I am!”

“Must suck,” Stephanie chuckles, “Trying so hard to do a one-eighty that you ended up pulling a three-sixty.” She throws herself onto the couch next to Jason and drops her legs into his lap, wearing an awfully smug grin Jason wants nothing more than to claw off her face.

He glares at her. “You’re enjoying this too much.”

She says, “Can’t I?” and revels in how it causes the veins in his neck to twitch, to bulge, to almost burst.

Cass soon drops onto his other side and layers her legs over Stephanie’s, probably because she anticipated how he would have thrown Stephanie onto the floor if she hadn’t intervened. His theory is confirmed with how Cass cocks her head at him and smiles bigger than Stephanie.

“Face it, Jay,” Tim says, “you are… your father’s son.”

He is not. He’s not! Jason is so much not like Bruce that he wants to scream it from the rooftops so loud they hear it in Metropolis, but he doesn’t since it wouldn’t matter to them how hoarse he became while denying it nor could his ego handle it if Clark heard his claim as a challenge and flew to Gotham for the sole purpose of lecturing him how admirable it was being compared to Bruce. Words wouldn’t make a difference.

Actions however…

“I’ll show you,” he says. Jason leaps to his feet and knocks both Stephanie’s and Cass’s legs off him. “I’ll show you all I’m not Bruce by doing something Bruce would never do.”

“Killing?”

“No. Not killing.” Jason rolls his eyes. For once, killing wasn’t the answer. “I’m gonna do something even better.” He leaves the room without revealing anything else, slamming the door as he exits.

The group looks between themselves.

“What do you think he means by that? Better than killing?”

“Isn’t that… most things?”

“I think the better question is,” Damian starts, this time maintaining his focus on his video game while he speaks, “do we really care enough about whatever harebrained scheme Jason whipped up to bore ourselves thinking about it?”

No. They don’t. So, they return to what they’d been doing before Jason interrupted their day.

Part II

THE NEXT DAY

Jason doesn’t feel very much like Bruce at this moment. In fact, he doesn’t feel much of anything other than a light, fluffy serenity that runs through his veins like molasses, that weighs heavily on his eyelids, and that stuffs his poor, dry mouth with cotton.

Why is he standing again?

“Right,” Jason mumbles to himself, remembering. “Water.”

He floats out of his room, smoke trailing him as he makes his way down the manor hallway and towards the kitchen. It is an arduous journey. The manor is a humongous beast and, since Jason had last considered it, somehow grown larger between when he went inside his room and when he left it. His path seems longer than it should be, fraught with more twists and turns that threw his sense of direction into frenzy. His latest error has him shouldering open the door to the gym, stumbling inside it and catching Dick, who takes pictures of himself in the mirror, by surprise.

“Jason!” Dick hisses. A warm blush colors his body, save the parts Jason can’t see covered by the flimsy pair of gym shorts he wears. “What are you doing here?”

Jason ignores him. He glances around the room and mumbles, “This isn’t the kitchen.”

“Course it’s not – what made you think this was the kitchen?”

“I’m trying to get to the kitchen…”

Dick strides over to Jason and studies him, their faces inches apart. Jason doesn’t blink. “Dude,” he says, scrunching his nose, “you reek. Are you high right now?”

Jason scoffs, then laughs. “What? Why would you – are you high?”

Dick isn’t high. He knows that. But Jason is, like Dick rightly suspected, very, very, very high. Which explains why he hadn’t thought of a better deflection than an accusation, and why he was in the gym and not the kitchen, though Jason isn’t able to understand this connection while he’s high.

“You are,” Dick says. “You are high.” He takes a step back. “Why are you high?”

He scoffs again and folds his arms across his chest. “Why do I need a reason to be high? Can’t I just be high… if I were. NotsayingthatIam. High.”

“Wait. Does this have anything to do with yours and Tim’s fight yesterday?”

“My…” It takes Jason a minute for Dick’s question to click. “How do you know about that,” he asks.

“He texted me about it.”

“About what?”

“About your major meltdown from being called Bruce’s doppelganger.”

“I’m not though,” Jason says, “because Bruce would never get high in the middle of the day. If at all.”

“And you do?”

Not recently. Not until now. But once the thought came to him yesterday he couldn’t deny its sound logic so during patrol last night he made a quick stop over at a dispensary – it’s legal here in Jersey – and purchased a few dubs worth of marijuana using cash he swiped off a would-be child abductor. No harm, no foul. The challenge was working up the nerve to actually follow through with his plan. He spent that entire morning staring at the pre-rolled joint, squeezing the orange bottle it came in, nervous since he wasn’t sure how smoking it would affect him. He’d never done anything harder than liquor before. It showed when he nearly hacked his lung onto the floor seconds after his first toke.

He’d rather die than admit that, especially to his family.

Jason chuckles and shrugs on a cocky expression, “I’m such a stoner that it took me twenty joints to even feel the slightest bit of a buzz. At least!”

Dick’s gaze meets Jason’s. “Sure.” His skepticism was obvious. Jason still missed it.

“Great. Glad we got that covered.” Jason jerks his thumb backwards, “If you don’t mind. I’m gonna head to the kitchen now.”

He might trip over his feet as he exits, but only because he’s too cool to care about lifting his feet off the ground. Honest.

Dick catches him before his face hits the floor. “Why don’t I go with you to the kitchen,” he suggests, “I was about to grab some lunch anyway.”

Jason snorts and snickers and doesn’t think how coincidental Dick’s stomach was being. “Sure. That's where I was heading, too.”

He assumes his search will take longer with Dick beside him. However, in his next blink, he realizes they’ve arrived at their destination.

“Whoa,” he mumbled. “Was the kitchen always this close to the gym?”

Dick brushes past him and towards the fridge. “Yeah. They’re actually the same room.”

“They are?”

He stifles a laugh and says, in his most exasperated tone, “Always. You don’t remember?”

“No, I do… I do.”

The kitchen and gym are actually two wholly separate rooms that exist on different floors, and Jason will realize this later on. Now, he believes what his brother told him and shuffles along to the fridge as Dick leaves it for the microwave.

He opens the fridge door and stares. He stares. He stares for quite a while, the chill air caressing his face and the background hum causing Jason to forget exactly why he was in the kitchen to begin with. Jason smacks his tacky lips together in thought. He cannot recall his reason why.

Then, Bruce enters the kitchen with a grunt and a passing “You’re up early,” from Dick and all that serenity Jason felt shatters into a puddle of broken glass at his feet.

What is Bruce doing here in his own manor?

Jason listens as Dick converses at Bruce while he putters around the kitchen, his grip on the door’s handle becoming tighter and tighter with every second that ticks by with Bruce in the room. He can’t do this. He can’t be near Bruce and high at the same time.

Why should he be afraid? Jason is an adult. He can make choices that Bruce wouldn’t approve of. He has made choices that Bruce didn’t approve of! This is not unfamiliar territory for him.

That doesn’t ease the paranoia gnawing on his brain in the slightest. Its teeth sink deeper into his grey matter, and it shakes its maw wildly, sneering, growling at Jason that if Bruce catches him high, catches onto the fact that he smoked in his manor, the worst thing ever will happen. What could that be? The worst, that voice says, so bad you don’t want to know what it is!

Oh God.

There’s a hand on his shoulder and Jason jumps. He whips around. It’s just Dick holding an empty bowl. When did he finish?

“Dude,” he says, “you good?”

Jason attempts to smile. “Course I am.” It was more of a grimace.

Dick didn’t push. Rather, he asks, “What were you looking for?”

“I was –“ The answer hits him with urgency, “– water! I came down here for water!”

“Okay…” Dick glances over his shoulder, “Don’t you need a glass for that?”

He does. Unfortunately, the glasses were in the cabinet Bruce was standing in front of like a gargoyle. If he goes for the glass, Bruce will surely see him and see how high he is and, and…

So bad you don’t want to know what it is!

“Earth to Jason? Hello?” Dick waves his hand in Jason’s face. “Seriously, space cadet – how much did you really smo –“

“I’ll go get the glass!” Jason shouts and pushes Dick out of his way, hoping Bruce didn’t hear him.

He hadn’t even flinched. Good.

Jason can do this. He can walk to where Bruce was, excuse himself, grab his glass and maybe exchange a few words with the old man, make him laugh once or twice, then dart away to the fridge and to his room after he pours himself some water where he can smoke another of his joints to calm the nervous flutter of his heart. It’ll be easy.

Bruce won’t know anything about him being high at all.

Besides, he’s too busy staring at the toaster he –

He becomes sidetracked by it, too. Jason frowns at the toaster, at the limp slices of bread sitting there not being cooked, instead of getting his glass. “What are you doing?”

Bruce shrugs, “Making toast.”

“You are?” Jason reaches for the lever in front and pushes it. The lever, and the toast, spring back up. Bruce takes a slice and complains that it’s not cooked to his liking, placing it inside the toaster once more. “I don’t think that’ll help,” Jason says.

“Why not?”

“Well… it’s not working.”

“It’s not?” Bruce squints at the toaster, scratching his chin. “Why isn’t it working?”

Jason spies the cord from the corner of his eye, the toaster’s plug sitting beneath the outlet forlornly. “I don’t think it’s plugged in.”

“Huh?”

“It’s not plugged in,” Jason repeats. He takes the plug and jams it into the outlet, then presses the lever again. It locks in place. The toaster glows orange as it cooks the bread.

A smile appears on Bruce’s face. “I was wondering why that was taking forever.”

“How long were you just standing here, waiting for toast?”

“I… don’t know.”

Jason turns to him and, when he does, he notices aspects of Bruce’s appearance, his expression, his attitude, and his posture that led to a certain conclusion Jason is unable to stop himself from screaming, “Hold on – you’re high, too!”

Bruce panics, tenses, and begins backing away from Jason. “What? That’s – why would you…” Then, as if he finally digested what Jason said, he raises his own finger. “Too? Are you high?”

Jason bites back his groan. He pales, “I – uh… no?”

In the background Dick, who had seated himself on one of the center bar’s stools soon as Jason neared Bruce, laughs and goes for his phone. “Oh, this is… I’m telling the others what’s happening. They won’t believe…”

Jason glares at Dick. “Don’t you dare tell them –“

“Tell them, what?” Dick mocks. He talks while he lights the signal for everyone else, “That you are so much like Bruce that even the things you think he wouldn’t do, he does? That what you want me to keep secret?”

“No, it’s –“

Bruce sniffles at his side. “You want to be like me?”

“No!” Jason denies as Bruce scoops him into a hug, “No! That wasn’t the point of this at all!”

“This is adorable. I’m taking pictures.”

“You do that and consider yourself dead, Dick!”

“I’ve lived a good life,” he says. The flash goes off on his phone. “This is worth it.”

Jason, trapped in Bruce’s arms, is helpless. All he can do is sulk and pout – he has every right to pout – and grumble to anyone who might listen that he is not like Bruce, no matter what anyone says, no matter that even he believes the tiniest bit that he and his father are similar. It’s the hill he’ll die on.

Which, hopefully, will be soon. Before the others can flock to the kitchen and add to his misery. Jason at least deserves that dignity, doesn’t he?

#jason todd #batman #red hood #batfamily #batfam #batfam fanfic #bruce wayne #tim drake #stephanie brown #cassandra cain #damian wayne #duke thomas #sibling shenanigans #jason thinks he's cool which is unfortunate because no one else does #dc comics #dcu

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