#metahuman jason todd

[webshood]

Jason punching through the hull of a submarine, but he's just your average guy, no super strength anywhere

[soulless-bex]

ignoring that the canon answer to jason’s resurrection is “superboy punched a wall”, i propose immortal!Jason Todd

as in, jason is actually a meta-human who can’t die. the only reason he stayed dead as long as he did in the first place is because of how fucked his body was after everything the joker put him through and he needed to “heal.” even then he was still recovering after literally digging himself out of his grave

however, since he most definitely can’t remember shit until after his dip in the lazarus pit, he doesn’t know. talia kept her mouth shut because knowledge is power, jason never asked because he was Angry and there were no other witnesses

so immortal meta-human jason but nobody figures it out until he dies again

[msfcatlover]

In which I propose a new superpower for Jason Todd

Jason was resurrected by a ripple/fracture/break in space-time/reality. Significantly, he was resurrected physically to a moment right before his death (I’d argue right before the bomb went off, based on his injuries and specifically the lack of smoke-damage to his lungs allowing him to call out for Bruce from down in his grave) but he remembers dying. Some analysis even suggests that resurrection made him immortal, that his death was overwritten and cannot be rewritten in any way that will stick. Plenty of AUs speculate about this giving him a whole variety of powers, but I haven’t seen this one yet, so...

Jason Todd exists, physically, as every single version of himself that ever was, could have been, or ever could be. He is, in a way, outside of time, a permanent glitch in the metaphorical matrix. He is a very, very specialized kind of shapeshifter, able to hit fast forward or rewind on his own physical form whenever he wants, but his perception of time remains linear & constant---he can’t actually see the future or anything, and if he shifts to the time he was a corpse, he’s still trapped & aware inside of his nearly useless, rotting body. When he meets alternate versions of himself from parallel universes, he also learns of different paths his life could’ve gone down, allowing him to rewind to the point where that changed and then fast forward down that other path as far as he wants (once again, this does not grant him the memories of that alternate life, he is always the Jason who stole from Batman, became Robin, died in that warehouse, and came back with a vengeance.) Not something he gets much use out of, given how few of the alternate selves he’s met have useful powers of their own, but handy for hiding scars or changing his build slightly for undercover work.

No, what Jason got/gets/will get the most use out of is the rewind feature. It can heal wounds, as long as he removes the blade or bullet which will not be affected by his shifting, which is both very handy (in the case of the former) and very troublesome (when the latter means he can’t risk shifting at all if he’s been shot or hurt with shrapnel.) He comes back to Gotham as a ghost, the Robin they all remember him as, and haunts his family just irregularly enough to really throw them off their games in between antics as the Red Hood.

(He also did/does/will do it instinctively sometimes, losing track of what age he’s supposed to be and shifting to the one he currently feels like, or the one he wants to be. He almost always drops however many years back to his late teens whenever he’s being especially petty or underhanded. When he’s scared, he has to actively remember not to let himself literally shrink back to 14, when he was Robin & a Wayne and actually felt safe. Under fear toxin, it’s not uncommon to find Jason under ten years old, tiny & scared, trying to find somewhere small to hide. In the opposite direction, he often gets older when he wants people to take him seriously, because something Jason learned young is that nobody listens to people they think are children.)

(Needless to say, the full-face helmet is very useful, and he keeps the filters well maintained & at the bleeding-edge of bat-technology. Nightwing having to carry a sobbing six year old back to the cave for treatment should never, ever have happened even the one time, and Jason’s not about to let it happen again!)

He needs to remember to age at all, since he just hit/hits/will hit “pause” when he reaches the form he wants. He came out of the Lazarus Pit a glitchy, blurring mess of a thing, and it took a while before he was able to find a form that felt comfortable in the time he was now in (the body he would have had, if Bruce got there in time and took Jason to the al Ghuls to beg healing for his son’s wounds.) The further he gets from the current time/reality, the more uncomfortable a form was/is/will be to hold; like wearing a skin-tight suit that doesn’t quite fit, getting smaller the further he gets from “here & now.”

(Yes, that does mean Jason will inevitably experience ever-increasing discomfort as time goes on and he gets further from his original resurrection; he’s not supposed to be “here” right “now.” The longer it’s been since Jason Todd ceased to exist, the more out of place a living Jason Todd was/is/will be.)

[azulhood]

DPxDC crossover but, instead of Danny being his ghostly-horror self, the justice league believe that he's just some guy.

Danny: *glowing eyes, sharp teeth, aura of eldritch being*

Villain: You're seeing this right?

Justice league: *turns around to find all the ghostly stuff gone* oh that's Danny *waves* hi Danny!

Villain: ...are you being serious right now?

It's not even that he's doing it on purpose, it's just anytime he does ghost things none of the heros are looking, and when they do have him in their sights he's just a normal person.

It probably wouldn't work for batman and his thousand cameras, but let's just say that it never got his attention cause no one in the league thought to mention it and the one time he did check it was just regular dude hours.

To the Justice league Danny is the humanist human to ever human.

Which is why they are so confused as to why this small branch of the government (mad scientist parents optional) is so sure he isn't.

[wwccol]

The Signal: Gotham’s Daylight Guardian

The Batfamily is trying to unravel Duke's "daytime crime-busting secret" only to discover that it's literally just Duke being Duke—and looking like a terrifying eldritch being—it’s brilliant.

Tim: "Okay, I’ve been running the stats. Crime in Gotham during the day has dropped by, like, 40%. That’s not normal. Something’s going on."

Jason: "I say Duke’s been moonlighting as a Jedi or something. There’s no other explanation."

Duke: "I swear, I’m just... out there, doing my thing. Nothing fancy!"

Dick: "Right. Which is why we’re all suiting up and following you tomorrow. For science."

The next day, the Batfamily gathers on a rooftop near Wayne Tower, decked out in their suits, ready to tail Duke as discreetly as possible.

Jason: "Alright, Narrows, go do your thing. We’ll stay out of sight."

Duke (rolling his eyes): "You guys are making this way weirder than it needs to be. I’m just... patrolling."

Dick: "That’s exactly what makes it suspicious. Go on."

Duke sighs, mutters something about how everyone’s being dramatic, and leaps off the rooftop.

The rest of the Batfamily follows at a safe distance, blending into shadows and keeping tabs via comms. At first, everything seems normal. Duke stops a mugging with a quick intervention and moves on. But as he continues, they start noticing patterns .

Witnessing The Signal in Action

A small group of teenagers loitering in an alley suddenly stiffen as Duke lands silently on a nearby fire escape. He doesn’t even say anything—just crouches there, watching.

Teen 1 (terrified whisper): "Did you see that? Oh my god, it’s looking at us!"

Teen 2: "What is that thing?!"

The group scatters like frightened birds.

On another street, a man about to break into a car looks up and sees Duke silhouetted against the sunlight. The golden glow of Duke’s eyes intensifies, and shadows seem to curl unnaturally around his frame.

Car Thief: "Nope. Nope. Not today. I’m going back to Metropolis."

He drops his crowbar and sprints away.

From a nearby rooftop, the Batfamily watches everything unfold.

Tim: "Okay, I don’t get it. He didn’t even do anything that time."

Barbara (from the comms): "I checked the cameras. He just landed on a fire escape and... stared. Is this his whole strategy?"

Steph: "Wait, is this some kind of Jedi mind trick? Duke, are you secretly psychic?"

Duke (on comms): "No! I’m not psychic. I don’t know why they’re freaking out!"

Jason: "I’ll tell you why—they think you’re a demon, dude. You’ve got the whole Lovecraft vibe going on. Look at you! You’re like a glowing shadow monster on top of a building."

Dick: "He’s not wrong. You’re giving off serious 'guardian of the apocalypse' energy."

Duke: "You guys are exaggerating. I just look... cool. Right?"

The Batfamily decides to test the hypothesis. Jason volunteers to get closer for a better look, pretending to be a random pedestrian.

He casually strolls down the street, glances up at Duke on the rooftop, and immediately freezes. Even Jason—who routinely faces death and chaos—is struck by the sheer wrongness of Duke’s appearance. It’s not that Duke’s doing anything malicious. It’s just... unsettling.

Jason (into comms): "Okay, yeah. It’s definitely the eldritch horror thing. My fight-or-flight reflex just kicked in, and I know it’s him ."

Duke: "I still don’t see it!"

Barbara: "Hold on. I’m recording this. I’ll pull up the feed so you can see what Gotham sees."

Back in the Batcave, Barbara plays the daytime surveillance footage on the main screen. The Batfamily watches in stunned silence as the video shows Duke leaping across rooftops. In the broad daylight, his glowing golden aura seems magnified. His shadow stretches unnaturally, flickering like it has a mind of its own. His eyes gleam with an unearthly intensity, and he moves with a predator-like grace that’s both mesmerizing and terrifying.

Dick: "Wow. You’re like Batman’s scarier, solar-powered cousin."

Steph: "Or the protagonist of a found-footage horror movie."

Tim: "Oh my god. Duke... you look like the final boss of a cosmic horror video game."

Jason: "No wonder Gotham’s criminals are freaked out. You look like you’re about to drag their souls into the void."

Duke (finally seeing it): "...Oh. Oh no."

Duke leans against the console, burying his head in his hands.

Duke: "I thought people were just scared of, like... the idea of a Bat vigilante. Not me personally. "

Tim: "I mean, technically, it’s still the idea of a bat vigilante. You’re just the daytime version. And the daytime version is... apparently an eldritch sentinel."

Bruce (stepping in): "This works to our advantage. Fear is a powerful deterrent."

Duke (sarcastically): "Great. My entire crime-fighting persona is an eldrich nightmare… That’s not weird at all."

Later

The Batfamily decides to lean into Duke’s unique abilities. They even brainstorm ways to amplify the effect subtly (glowing lenses for his mask, playing up the shadow distortion) while ensuring Duke feels supported.

Bruce: "You’ve turned daylight into an ally in a way no one else has. Use it."

Duke: "Yeah, but... can we not make me look like the end boss of Gotham?"

Jason: "Too late, man. It’s perfect."

As they laugh and tease Duke, he starts to accept his role as Gotham’s daytime terror—a protector like no other. Though, deep down, he secretly enjoys how effective it is.

Extra

Scenario 1: The Hallway Horror

It’s late at night, and the Batfamily is scattered throughout Wayne Manor. Jason is heading to the kitchen for a midnight snack when he senses movement out of the corner of his eye. He turns to see Duke standing at the end of the dimly lit hallway, perfectly still.

Duke’s golden eyes are glowing faintly in the dark, his shadow stretching unnaturally along the walls. Jason freezes.

Jason (startled): "Jesus Christ, Duke! What are you doing?!"

Duke: "I was heading to my room."

Jason (still on edge): "Well, don’t stand there like a damn ghost! You scared the crap out of me!"

Duke raises an eyebrow.

Duke: "You’re literally a guy who sneaks up on criminals for a living. How did I scare you? "

Jason grumbles as he stalks off to the kitchen. Later, he tells everyone at breakfast that Duke’s "eldritch hallway act" nearly gave him a heart attack.

Scenario 2: The Living Room Light Show

The family is hanging out in the Wayne Manor living room after a patrol. The lights are dimmed, and everyone’s winding down. Duke is lounging on the couch, half-asleep, when Tim notices something strange.

Tim: "Uh... Duke? You’re glowing."

Everyone turns to look at Duke, who blinks in confusion. Sure enough, his golden aura has started to flicker faintly in the dim room. Shadows from the furniture stretch and bend toward him like they’re being pulled into a vortex.

Dick: "Okay, that’s... unsettling."

Steph (grinning): "Is this your way of telling us you’re secretly a nightlight?"

Duke, now fully awake, tries to suppress the glow. But the more he panics, the brighter his eyes get, until Jason hurls a throw pillow at him.

Jason: "Turn it off! You’re gonna summon Cthulhu in the middle of movie night!"

Bruce walks in, sees the chaos, and just sighs.

Bruce: "No eldritch summoning in the living room. Take it to the cave."

Scenario 3: Shadow in the Batcave

Tim is working late in the Batcave, surrounded by monitors and gadgets. He hears footsteps behind him and assumes it’s Bruce.

Tim (without looking): "Hey, can you hand me the—"

He turns around to see Duke standing there silently, his glowing eyes piercing through the shadows of the cave. Tim yelps and nearly falls out of his chair.

Duke (startled): "Whoa! Tim, it’s just me!"

Tim (catching his breath): "Don’t sneak up on people like that! You’re like a freaking cryptid in here!"

Duke smirks, but when he steps closer, the shadows behind him flicker unnaturally.

Tim: "Nope! Nope! Back up! You’re officially banned from the Batcave after dark."

Scenario 4: Bedside Terror

Damian wakes up in the middle of the night and spots a tall, shadowy figure standing silently by his bed. He grabs his katana instinctively and swings—only to realize it’s Duke, glowing faintly.

Damian: "Thomas! What are you doing?"

Duke (guiltily): "I, uh... thought I saw a shadow move in your room. Turns out it was just me."

Damian groans and flops back onto his bed.

Damian: "Next time, announce your presence before you scare someone into an early grave."

Scenario 5: The Kitchen Incident

Steph and Damian are in the kitchen arguing over the last cookie Alfred made.

Damian: "It’s mine. I called dibs."

Steph: "You can’t call dibs on dessert, Demon Spawn!"

As the argument escalates, the lights flicker, and a low hum fills the air. Both turn to see Duke standing in the doorway, his eyes glowing faintly. The refrigerator light casts long, exaggerated shadows across the floor, making Duke look ten feet tall.

Duke (deadpan): "Why is it always the cookies?"

Steph and Damian scream simultaneously.

Damian (recovering, annoyed): "Tt. That was unnecessary."

Steph: "Duke, I swear, one of these days you’re gonna give me a heart attack."

Scenario 6: Midnight Training Gone Wrong

Dick decides to train late in the Batcave, running through an obstacle course. He doesn’t realize Duke is also there, watching from the shadows. As Dick flips off a beam, he catches sight of Duke perched on a ledge, his glowing eyes tracking him like a predator.

Dick slips mid-flip and lands on the mat with a thud.

Dick: "DUKE! Why are you lurking like that?!"

Duke hops down gracefully.

Duke: "I wasn’t lurking. I was observing."

Dick: "You were lurking. Your shadows were doing the creepy tentacle thing again!"

Duke glances at his shadow, which does seem to be moving independently, and shrugs.

Duke: "I can’t control that all the time. Besides, you’re supposed to have situational awareness."

Dick: "Not for you ! You’re worse than Bruce!"

:D!!! lol posting here but I also posted on AO3

[cocopop-04]

metahuman batfam aus are cool and all, but i rlly need a fic where their powers go crazy around duke (bc he has the ability to amplify others powers if they r close to him) and for the other members of the batfam to find out that they are a metahuman bc of this.

[worldofmetahumans]

Incorrect Quotes!

We know all of you liked our previous incorrect quotes, so here are some more.... Be sure to let us know what you thought of them at https://worldofmetahumans.com/

Bruce: Looking left cause you don’t treat me right

Dick: Looking right because you left

Jason: Looking up cause you let me down

Tim: Looking down cause you fucked up

Damian: What is wrong with you guys

Bruce: Why isn’t the statue smirking at me?

Dick: It isn’t smirking at anyone, they’re all just imagining it.

Bruce: Three of us saw it, Dick. How do you explain that?

Dick: *points at Jason* Sleep deprivation. *points at Tim* Paranoia. *points at Damian* Delusional personality disorder.

Dick: Self care is actually getting into fights with randoms in dark alleys.

Jason: No, self care is stuff like taking a bubble bath, or putting on a lot of makeup if you like it, or taking a nice warm nap!

Tim: Self care is the burning heat when rage washes over you!! Self care is when you feel the bones crack under your powerful fists!! Self care is the fear in your enemies’ eyes!!!

Damian: Lmao self care is taking your birthday cake just so I can eat the frosting.

Dick: If you touch my birthday cake I’ll make you eat your hands.

Jason: With great power comes great need to take a nap. Wake me up later.

Any member of the Batfam: So apparently the 'bad vibes' I’ve been feeling are actually severe psychological distress

[arianna-creates]

Early days (pre-robin) version of a suit that makes batman seem like a metahuman

Read a really good fic about this concept that had a lot of good batdad moments, identity issues, and requited unrequited love for Superbat :)) <3

It's called Loading and Aspect Ratio and it's available on AO3!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/34977802

[101maverick]

There is a Reason Why Angels Weep

By: another_fucking_robin (on Ao3), @mysterious-trail-of-goop (here on tumblr)

Summary:

Hello, Timothy

You seemed to have spontaneously developed Metahuman powers from a previously dormant meta-gene. I know that those are some big words but it basically means that when you get really scared you turn into a statue. We don’t know if you’re awake while in this state because when your brain is stone it doesn’t make any noise that we can pick up on our machines.

When you are able to, press the button. A doctor will come and explain more to you.

[batfam-fanfics]

Step one of a good evil villain plan is to have information you shouldn't by AceFace98

1 Chapter - 10084 words

The multiverse was usually considered to be more science fiction than reality. The idea that things could be so drastically changed between worlds was simply too existential for most people to conceive.

It didn’t mean it didn’t exist.

In one universe, Tim Drake goes on to become Danny Fenton, or Danny Phantom. In another, he goes on to become Tim Drake-Wayne, or Red Robin.

In this one, someone else gets to him first.

[bluey-baby01]

To heal a broken heart by idk_account

Tim:*respects Carrie and gives her everything* Carrie:*betrays him*

Tim:*gasp* HoW dArE yOu!

[puppetmaster13u]

Howdy yall, I need some help with ideas.

If the batfam had abilities (Ie if they were metas) what abilities would you give each of them?

[lazaruswitch]

fem jaysabel...... jayrose.... jaytemis.... jaykori..... jassence....

but also.... korababs..... fem brutalia..... harlivy......

so many options for pairings to write sex about that i could enjoy writing sex about....

[sheep-from-rad]

Batfam x Neglected! Ghost! Reader

Note: This is just an idea right now but I will turn this into a series. Currently I have two series in my head, maybe three  if I will try and pursue that fake dating series with Jason Todd and Idol reader. I suck at writing angst so if this turns to a series, it will be a really short one. 

Warnings: MCD, no use of y/n. I use (name) instead, angst

Masterlist

The neglect on Reader was unintentional. Bruce loves them, the family loves them, they check on them every now and then, spend time, hang out, etc. Reader was that one normal kid that flew under the radar because of that Bruce and the family never had to worry about them. Just checking on them once in a while is already good enough to quell whatever fear they have. However, one day, the reader just disappears. 

There were no clues, no struggles, no bodies to be found. The family keeps trying to find reader but at the end the case was closed and became one of those unsolved files at the back of the GCPD archives 

The Wayne manor is not haunted. Sure they have encountered metahumans and heroes (Deadman for example) with power that deals with the spiritual realm but there are no hauntings in the manor, not even scurrying rats. 

The hauntings started when Bruce homed an artifact from Zatanna. He wasn’t supposed to home the artifact but there was a mix up with belongings during one night of crime fighting and he accidentally took the artifact home 

Weird things started happening in the mansion: flickering lights, floating orbs. Sometimes they are also faces and disembodied voices, you know, standard haunting stuff

At first they thought it was just pranks between brothers like they were trying to scare each other as competition and they had the electrical units in the mansion checked. Each family member started pointing fingers at each other until Bruce remembered the artifact and he immediately called Zatanna to take it home

Problem solved, right? Well, not really because the hauntings continued. There were voices whispering at the once quiet halls, shuffling but there was no person present, even Titus and Alfred the cat are now more alert and they always seem to be watching something. 

Seeing no other explanations, Batfam called in help from other heroes to solve the problem. During the ritual though, a familiar person came out.. Well, familiar used to be a human 

“(Name)...is that you?” “...who?” 

Ghost! Reader is a ghost that can’t move on because they have a business left to do. However, in some sick twist of fate, Ghost! Reader doesn’t also remember anything. They don’t know their name, why they are in the mansion in the first place, why they gravitate towards the family. In their head, they just randomly woke up in the mansion and they are a spirit

In other words, I just want to make a fanfic where Batfam is like ‘I want you to stay for a longer time but at the same time I know I had to help you gain your memories back and move on because if we don’t and then your soul will disappear forever’.

[threestarsinline]

The Word of Your Body

Jason Todd x reader one shot

Summary: Jason comes back from patrol, but something is keeping his mind still somewhere out there. You're always there to bring him back and let him know he's safe. At home. With you.

Word Count: 5.8K

Category: Angst-ish because Jason is going through it but fluff because reader is there to comfort him

Warnings: Jason having a bad time

Author’s note: I know, I know, three fics in one year?? Who am I? Jsjksks truly an achivement for me, very happy and very proud hehe. Thank you for sticking with me and supporting my fics, I love you all. That said, enjoy!

It’s really incredible how much one can know about a person just by their body. From the way they move, to how they carry themselves, to the small gestures that they make in their day to day that reflect who they are, to the little telltale signs of how they’re feeling. A smile, a wrinkle between the eyebrows, a twitch of their hand.

And not just the movements of the body but you can also learn a lot from the singularities and marks that one has on their skin. A child with a scrape on their knee from running too fast on the playground. A chef with hundreds of small cuts on their hands from mastering the use of a knife. A ballet dancer with wounded toes. A painter with watercolors under their nails. A piano player with soft and delicate hands.

You can have a lot of information about a person just by observing them, knowing how they move and how their body reacts to things. A flinch from fear at the threat of danger. A shiver at the gentle touch of a lover.

That’s how you immediately know that something’s wrong when Jason returns from patrol. And you don’t even need to see him.

You’re reading in bed when you hear him come in. Always waiting up for him whenever you can. It isn’t difficult for you since you’ve always preferred staying up late rather than waking up early. Unless you have something to do early the next morning, you always wait for him to come home, to come to you, liking to see him as soon as he returns to make sure that he’s made it back to you safe and sound.

You either read or watch something on TV while you wait despite how many times he’s told you that you don’t have to wait up for him, that you should sleep. And every time you shake your head and say, “And go to sleep without you next to me? Never.” And every time Jason rolls his eyes at your stubbornness while his heart thrums in his chest at how much he loves you and then gently cups your face in his hands and kisses you softly.

And even when you can’t help it and you do have to go to sleep earlier or exhaustion wins over you and brings you to the depths of slumber without warning, Jason always approaches you quietly so as to not disturb you and kisses your forehead to let you know he’s home. If you’re on the couch he brings you to bed, and if you’re already in bed, he settles the covers better over you, just the way you like.

And those times you always smile in your sleepy state and unless he’s injured and needs your help patching him up, you follow semi consciously the sound of his footsteps around the apartment. The sound of the shower as he steps inside to rinse away the Gotham night clinging to him, the sound of rustling sheets as he finally climbs into bed with you, and are finally lulled back to sleep when warmth surrounds you as he brings you into his arms.

You’re no metahuman but you’ve developed a sixth sense for everything regarding Jason Todd. You would be able to easily spot him in a crowd of thousands after having just faintly heard his voice in the distance even if he didn’t have that white tuft of hair singling him out, all your senses zeroed in on him. It’s like your body and mind are always tuned to find him, like tweaking the dial of the car radio to find your favorite station and finding it on the very first try.

You have a master’s degree on Jason Todd and all of his movements, small gestures and twitch of expressions that he doesn’t even realize that he’s doing, you know it all by heart. You know that when the right side of his smirk pulls slightly at his cheek as he’s admiring you doing something mundane, he’s going to kiss you. You know that when he flexes his hands at his sides something is bothering him. You know that he’s going to laugh loudly and wholeheartedly when the sound makes his shoulders shake slightly before making its way up his throat, as if he’s trying to contain it but the laugh is so strong and spontaneous that he can’t fight it. And you know he’s in pain from a bruise on his ribs when he shifts his weight on his feet and a grimace appears on his face for just a second.

That’s how you know that something’s up when you hear him climb through your living room window and his steps don’t sound as if he’s trying to not make too much noise in order to not wake you up in case that you’re asleep, but as if he's trying to make himself as small as possible. It’s a subtle difference but it’s there. You know it because you’ve encountered it before.

Your worry only increases when in the next four seconds that it takes you to find your bookmark between the sheets and place it in your book, you don’t hear him move at all. He doesn’t come find you and he doesn’t call your name.

When you exit the bedroom you find him in the middle of the living room. He just stands there, shoulders hunched, red helmet gripped tightly in hand, head looking down, his hair falling over his forehead.

Something has happened. You don’t know what it is but your first worry right now is making sure that he’s okay. If he heard you come into the room he doesn’t show it. You take a couple of small yet purposeful steps towards him, making sure that they can be heard so that you can alert him of your presence, not wanting to startle him.

But nothing. He stays frozen.

You take a deep breath as your heart clenches at seeing him like this. It’s bad. Whatever has happened is really, really bad and it seems like Jason’s mind is still there. He’s not fully present with you right now.

But you know what you have to do. You have to bring him back here with you. Help him to separate himself, your loving, wonderful, and kind Jason from the horrors that Red Hood has to face every day.

You take another step in his direction. ��Jason?” you whisper softly.

He doesn’t react. But he doesn’t flinch either. That’s good. He knows he’s somewhere safe. But he still needs to distance himself from whatever was out there. You finally come to stand in front of him, still not touching him. “Jay?” you try again while assessing him over, trying to pinpoint if he’s injured.

Again, nothing. But the hair that hangs over his forehead moves ever so subtly, almost in an imperceptible way, but you catch it nonetheless. The hair moved because he tilted his head in the slightest of ways. He’s listening to you. Knows that you’re there. You sigh in relief when you see his grip on the helmet lessen too. Good signs.

“I’m going to touch you, okay?”

He releases a deep breath, slowly allowing himself to let go, the tension that his shoulders held not as tight as before. Leaving his body slightly, leaving him at your mercy. He’s saying, Okay. Satisfied at that and at finding that he doesn’t seem to have any major injuries, you nod. Then, you gently and very slowly take his face in your hands to look at him. His eyes acknowledge you for a split second but then his emerald gaze returns to the floor, and you feel a crack forming in your heart at the utter sadness, desperation, and despair that you find in it.

Still, you feel him melt into your touch at his cheeks. “It’s okay. You’re safe. You’re home,” you offer softly.

He closes his eyes in response, reveling in the comfort that you bring him. Next, you take the helmet from his hand and set it on the kitchen counter before moving to the holster with his guns and very carefully unfastening its belt and leaving it all on the table. Helping him that way to step out of the Red Hood persona and everything that claws into it.

“Let’s take a shower,” you say, wanting to keep him informed of your every move. You take his hand and pull him with you towards the bathroom. He lets you guide him, fully trusting you but still not reacting to anything much.

You don’t ask him what’s happened. You don’t need to know. There are things that Jason doesn’t tell you about patrol. And you have no problem with it, knowing that he wants to separate those two parts of his life. But no matter what it is, you always let him know that he can come to you about them, that you’ll listen. That you’ll always be there for him. Always.

The other few times that you have seen him come home like this, slouched over and not talking much, you later learn, either by context from what you hear on the news and the streets, or by Jason directly telling you about it when he needs to let go and finally feels able share it, that the people he was after got away, that someone got hurt, or something like that.

But this time… This time something’s different. You have never seen him as bad as this. At least not from coming back from patrol. And it worries you. It worries you a lot and it kills you that you can’t do anything more than just be there for him. But it seems that that’s all that he needs right now so you settle on focusing on him.

From the guiltiness that hangs over him, tensing his shoulders and keeping his eyes down, and the distress and sorrow that you see in his gaze, you have a feeling that something terrible happened. Something that he couldn’t prevent. He couldn’t save somebody.

You can almost see how he’s replaying it in his mind, the shame and regret swirling in his head until they stiff all of his body. You need to reassure him, make him see how it isn’t his fault, how he did everything he could, and how he gave his all but how sometimes, despite how much you fight it and try to stop it, Gotham doesn’t let you escape the rot that runs through its streets.

Once you two reach the bathroom, you flick on the mirror light above the sink, casting you two in a soft golden light, not wanting to overwhelm him with the overhead one and its strong intensity.

You stand in front of him and help him take off his jacket before taking his hands in yours. He still doesn’t look at you as you take off his gloves. Once they’re gone, you take a moment to examine his hands, and you let out a sigh of relief at seeing that his knuckles aren’t wounded. Your thumbs softly trace the marred skin, small scars and irregular healing adorning his hands. You can’t help but bring them to your lips and press a long kiss to them, closing your eyes, trying to will away all the mental scars that they hold too just by the touch of your lips.

His hands, that could break bones but also mend and heal the most broken parts of yourself.

Despite what those hands either curled into fists or holding a gun could mean to other people, they’re precious to you. And one of the many wonderful parts of him. To you, they mean soft caresses while you’re laying in bed. They mean warmth when winter comes and he rubs them against your arms. They mean comfort, and safety, as he holds your sobbing body when you break down.

Their roughness both from handling dangerous weapons and using a pan to make you dinner. Jason Todd has a duality that still amazes you to this day, but you love all the multitudes that he contains all the same.

You then begin to remove his equipment. The chest armor, the knee pads, and any other protective gear, putting it all on the pile that you started with his jacket and gloves on top of the laundry basket to sort out later. Jason doesn’t move, only doing the movement necessary to help you undress him, like lifting his feet so that you can slip his boots off after having unlaced them.

But still, his gaze remains lost.

You set the boots to the side and get back up to your feet again. You walk around him to get the tub started for a bath, adding some oils and soap. You pass by him to exit the bathroom and grab some comfortable clothes for him after. Most of the time, unless it’s very cold, he normally sleeps shirtless with some sweatpants or even just his underwear during the hotter months, but you know that tonight he needs to feel covered, enveloped, protected. You begin to plan in your mind. A comfortable old shirt and sweatpants will do.

However, before you can even reach the doorframe and begin your walk to the bedroom, a hand wraps gently around your wrist. You whip back around, both surprised and glad at the same time that Jason has finally interacted with you on his own accord, this being the first contact with the outside world initiated by him. Another good sign.

You see Jason’s eyes fixed on your wrist before lifting his gaze to lock with yours.

Stay.

Your gaze softens and you take another step closer to him, almost being chest to chest. You lift your free hand to caress his cheek. “Of course,” you whisper. “I’m just going to grab you some clothes, okay? It’ll be five seconds.”

As you assure him, without realizing it, your thumb traces his cheek in the exact same motion that he has begun to rub soft circles into your wrist. He nods slowly.

“Okay,” you say and Jason releases his hold on you just enough for you to quickly slip to the bedroom. And just like you promised, you’re back just as fast, closing the door behind you so that the steam from the tub can warm up the room, starting to fog up the mirror too, and setting the clothes on the counter. And Jason still hasn’t moved an inch.

You stand in front of him again and delicately grab the hem of his shirt before looking up at him. And you don’t need words to understand each other. Can I?

Jason’s chin tips slightly. Yeah.

You slowly lift the shirt up his body and he raises his arms to help you. Once off, you leave the shirt with the rest of his discarded clothes. Then, with your hands in front of you so that Jason can see what you’re doing and anticipate your movements, you rest them on his shoulders and then gently slide them down his chest, feeling his well-worked muscles and creases from the scars on his skin.

Jason lets out a deep breath, the skin to skin contact grounding him. His eyes never leave you now, following every single one of your actions. And not because he needs to see what you’re doing in order to prepare himself, not anymore, but because you’re the only thing that seems real right now. The only thing tethering him to Earth.

Because to him, you’re his center of gravity. No matter how far he went, both in distance and into the depths of his mind, he will always come back to you.

You lean forward and press a tender kiss between his pecs. Jason shudders, feeling warmth, comfort, and light blooming from the spot that you kissed and extending through all of his body, from his torso to the ends of his limbs. Your touch like the first rays of sunshine after the coldest and longest night of the year in a frozen landscape, melting the frost and bringing everything back to life. Chasing away the Gotham chill clinging to his bones and the rigidness that holds him hostage. Replacing it all with you, just you. The warmth and safety that you provide.

Jason thinks that he wasn’t actually brought back to life all those years ago, just went through some kind of purgatory on Earth again until he reached his very own personal heaven. You. And he still has no idea what he did to deserve it.

Then you help him out of his pants until he’s standing in his underwear in front of you. His back is hunched, making him lean towards you but this time it’s not because of all the negative thoughts hanging over him, but because of the pull that you have over him, your gravity drawing him in.

You round him again to check the temperature of the water in the tub, though this time, Jason rotates his body to follow you, like a sunflower chasing the sun. Satisfied with both the water’s temperature and quantity, you close the tap.

“You want me to get in with you?” you ask, not minding that you have already showered for the day. Jason nods.

You nod to yourself and peel the shirt of his that you wear to sleep off your body, leaving you just like him, wearing only your lower underwear. And even with how exposed you two are, you’re not vulnerable. The air in the room thick not only with humidity but with the intimacy between you two. A kind that can only come from honest love and a complete feeling of trust.

But the air isn’t humming with electricity like in the other situations in which you two find yourselves with as little clothing as right now. Instead, the air is lulling, like a soft and warm wave gently rocking your body when you lay with your eyes closed in the sea. Comforting and lightening.

You discard both your final pieces of clothing and step into the tub, holding a hand out to Jason so that he can step in in front of you. When he joins you, you two finally sink your bodies in the warm and bubble covered water. You lean back at the edge of the tub with Jason between your legs, his back pressed to your chest, his head resting on your shoulder and your arms draped over his chest, all of you surrounding him, enveloping him, protecting him.

Even though the tub is relatively big, considering Jason’s huge frame, it wasn’t exactly meant for two, so you’re a mess of tangled limbs and warm bodies, but you can already feel Jason relaxing against you. You kiss the crown of his head and he finally closes his eyes.

You two lay there for a while, enjoying the hot water and letting it wash your worries away, the scent from the lavender oil that you used hanging in the air, calming your minds. You’re glad to see how the bath is helping Jason to let go of the events of the night, the remaining tension that clung to his body stripped by the water, and the memories from the night relegated to another place as you see the crease on his brows disappear as you draw gentle caresses on his chest.

You grab the shampoo bottle and start to wash Jason’s hair, working the roots and massaging his scalp to help him relax even further. Soon, hundreds of tiny white bubbles replace the sight of his black locks. You work on his hair longer than necessary but you can see how much it’s helping him, his breathing becoming even more deeper and slower. The only sign that he hasn’t fallen asleep, the hand that settles on your knee at his side.

You then rinse his hair, his white streak majestically poking between the black again. With a sponge you start to wash his body where you can reach, his shoulders, his upper arms and torso. When you’re done you maneuver yourself to sit in front of him, facing each other now. As you start to wash the rest of his arms, you see in his eyes that his thoughts are beginning to slip away, the events of the night calling him again. But you’re not having it. Nothing is taking Jason away from you tonight. Your goal, making him focus on you and only you.

“Can I tell you a story?” you say softly, your voice and the soft splash of water at the slightest movement the only sounds in the room.

Jason just shrugs his shoulders slightly. You nod as you focus on passing the sponge over his hands.

“It’s the story of a boy and a girl. About a wonderful boy and a girl who couldn’t believe her luck,” you begin. “One freezing winter afternoon, the girl slipped on some ice and the guy caught her by the waist, saving her from a pretty hurtful fate, though she almost brought him down with her. She apologized profusely as her cheeks warmed not only because of the embarrassment but because the man who’d caught her was the most handsome one she’d ever seen. But in her haste to step back from the stranger to try and save some embarrassment, she slipped on the ice again and he saved her once again.”

Jason can’t help the small smile that pulls at his lips. Because the story that you’re telling isn’t just any story. It’s your story. The story of how you met.

He wonders how you always knew exactly what to say. Hell, you could just be reading the grocery list out loud and he’d think that you deserved a Nobel Prize in Literature just because it came from you.

The sight of Jason’s smile pulls your lips into one too, and it warms your heart just like his worried gaze had done to your cheeks that very first day.

Both of you remember that day as clear as day, though neither of you could have ever anticipated how important it would be, how it had changed the course of your lives. You can still perfectly recall how he had cleared his throat awkwardly after catching you for the second time and his You alright, miss? How breathy his voice had sounded, as if something had taken his breath away, his heavy lower Gotham accent that had both surprised you and stirred something within you, and how vivid the green in his eyes was.

Just as bright as it is now as you continue the story. The shine that was always there whenever he looked at you.

“She had been pretty awkward, and she still can't believe how she’d managed to pull the kindest and hottest man in all of Gotham, the world even.” Jason snorts and you throw him a look, telling him not to question you because if there is one universal truth in this world—apart from the fact that a single man in possession of good fortune, must be in want of a wife—is that Jason Todd is the kindest and most gorgeous man that you have ever met.

“Though later he would reveal that he had found her nothing but endearing, despite what she might say about her awkwardness,” you continue.

Something about you already drawing him in. But just as quick as it all had happened, the moment passed by, and you two went your separate ways. Though not for long, because some time later, another afternoon, you were walking home when a running figure turned the corner and clashed into you. As you took a couple steps back to stabilize yourself you realized that you were head to head with the Red Hood. Which was strange since the sun was still setting and he had never been seen other than at night.

Jason hadn't planned on starting patrol so early but Tim had tipped him that some guys that he was after were having a meet up and Jason decided to give them a little surprise. Though that plan flew out the metaphorical window in the room of his mind as soon as he saw you again.

He had tried to forget the encounter in which he had saved the most beautiful girl that he’d ever seen from tumbling to the ground, and just as it seemed like he was about to succeed (not really, but at least manage to push the encounter to the back of his mind instead of your soft voice plaguing his every waking moment), he ran into you.

He stared at you bewildered, not believing that it was you, the sweet girl from the ice, and he was at a loss for words.

“Sorry,” you had said and at the sound of your voice he finally came out of his daze and shook his head.

“No need, it was my fault." He tilted his head. “You okay, miss?” You nodded, trying to ignore the shiver that ran down your spine at how similar he had sounded to your ice savior, his voice ingrained in your mind. And as much as Jason would have loved to stay there with you for a bit longer and hopefully learn your name, he had to get going, so he apologized again and you watched as he left.

And that should have been it. But somehow, it seemed like the universe had other ideas, crossing your paths later once again. And then one thing led to another and here you were now, sharing laundry and rent. Who would have thought? Certainly not you, when those strong arms caught you and you had no idea that they would become the place where you would feel the safest in.

Home.

Jason keeps listening as you finish recalling the start of your relationship. “And so their adventure together began. The clumsy girl from the ice and the boy that despite his rough exterior, had the gentlest, bravest, most selfless and most beautiful heart that she’d ever come to know.”

You finish the story with an enamored smile on your lips, the sweet memories fueling even more your love for him. A love and reassurance that you hope you have been able to convey in the story.

Jason sits in front of you with a small smile of his own, his heart beating golden light through his body, the love that you put there. His body finally relaxed and at peace, your hands holding his.

But then the smile falls from your lips as you see his eyes glass over. And even before he starts to tremble you pull him into you, wrapping your arms around him, his face hidden in your neck, his own arms snaking around you, holding you tight. And as the first tremors shake his shoulders, the first tears start to fall.

And you hold him through it. Taking everything that he needs to let go of in stride.

Because without the armor that he had built to keep his emotions at bay, swimming in the guilt and regret, once he finally relaxes, accepts that he’s safe and allows himself to be vulnerable, the dam breaks. And all the feelings come tumbling over.

The impotence. The sadness. The failure.

He’s not outright sobbing, the feelings working slowly but surely through him one by one. His body trembles slightly, a few tears falling onto your shoulder and a couple of sniffles here and there.

“I- I couldn’t-” He shakes his head and keeps silent once again. The first words that he’s said since he came home. The cracks in his broken voice forming ones in your heart. It stings more than salt in an open wound. You hold him as tight as you can. It’s like he needs to exteriorize these feelings and his body is allowing him to, but his voice can’t even go further than repeating that phrase over and over again. You shush him gently, letting him know that he doesn’t need to force himself to say anything. You’re here for him and that’s all that matters.

“It’s okay. You did everything you could, Jason. You’re a good man,” you whisper, trying to soothe the torture that he’s submitting himself to. But he shakes his head even more vehemently at your reassuring words and beautiful thoughts of him. Right now they don’t make any sense to him with how much he failed tonight. He’s not brave. He’s not kind. And he certainly isn’t good. He doesn’t know how you can say all of those things about him when he couldn’t-

You feel his internal monologue with how the time between his trembles, tears, and sniffles stretches. He’s lost in his head again. Thinking instead of feeling.

“Jason, hey, no. Stop,” you whisper gently but firmly. You unwind your arms from around him and take his head in your hands, holding his forehead to yours, looking into his eyes though his gaze avoids you.

“You are good. You’re kind, stubborn, funny, brave, determined, sarcastic, gentle, and loving. You’re all of those things. And sometimes things just go wrong and you can’t do anything to prevent them. You didn’t make any mistakes tonight, okay?” You don’t actually think that he can do anything wrong but you keep that to yourself. “Not being able to prevent something bad doesn’t make you any less of a good person.”

You can see how the thoughts race in his eyes.

“Jason. Look at me.” He finally locks eyes with you. “You know I’m not good at lying so listen to me when I say this. Whatever happened tonight is not your fault. You can cry. You should cry. You have to let go of everything that is storming inside you. What I’m not letting you do is convince yourself that you’re not good enough. Because you are, you hear me? You are.” You can’t help the tears that begin to prick at the corners of your eyes.

“I love you and I’m always going to be here for you for whatever you need, okay?” As a tear slips from your eye, Jason nods and hides in your neck again, letting his tears flow again. Letting himself feel. You envelop him in your arms once again.

“Okay,” he mutters against your skin. You sigh in relief and start to trace long shapes on his back.

You two stay there for a while, until both of you stop crying and his breathing returns to normal. And then you stay a little longer, just holding each other, Jason letting himself get lost in your soft skin and soothing scent, finally, finally, letting the night go. At least for now.

And then even a little longer, until the water turns lukewarm and a chill runs through your bodies.

“Want to go to bed?” you ask softly, threading your fingers through his hair, brushing away the damp strands falling on his forehead.

He nods slowly, lifting his head from your neck. “Thank you,” he whispers. You shake your head and he knows what you mean, You don’t have to thank me, I’d do anything for you.

“Come on,” you say and get up, offering him your hands. He takes them and gets up as well. You let the tub drain and step out of it, Jason following you. You quickly wrap Jason in a towel and then do the same with yourself. When you're done, he takes one of your hands gently and, while looking deep into your eyes, he kisses your knuckles. Thank you.

This time your gaze softens and you rest your hand against his heart. Of course.

After drying off you put your sleeping clothes back on and when you see Jason with the briefs that you brought already on and reaching towards the sweatpants, you gently swat his hand away. Let me take care of you.

He raises his hands in surrender and takes a step away from his clothes. Yes, ma’am.

“Are you hurt anywhere? Do you need me to patch you up?” He doesn’t seem to have any injury but you want to make sure. He shakes his head. You arch an eyebrow. It wouldn’t be the first time that he’s tried to lie to you about that. He nods, extending his arms so that you can examine him, showing how he doesn’t have any wounds. You wait for a beat before nodding.

You help him get dressed and all the while his fond gaze follows you. He’s sure that the best feeling in the world is being taken care of by you. That sunshine feeling blooming again in his chest. You’re so bright and he’s just so- No. He’s promised that he isn’t going to think like that anymore. At least not more tonight.

He follows your directions as you make him sit on the toilet and watches as you comb his hair. But then he can’t help but close his eyes at how relaxed he feels under your care. When you’re done you kiss his forehead and he hums as you run your hand through his hair. When he opens his eyes again, you’re extending a hand to him and he takes it without hesitation.

You turn off the bathroom light and guide him to the bedroom. You climb into bed, your side always the furthest one from the door, no matter where you are, at home, at the manor, or traveling, Jason makes sure of that, and you open your arms, inviting him into your embrace. Jason gets into bed, laying half on top of you, and wraps his arms around your waist as he nuzzles into your neck, your legs tangled. You drape the covers over you both, practically burying yourselves under them and wrap your arms around him, protecting him from anything that could hurt him. Your very own cocoon.

He gives your waist a slight squeeze. I love you. You kiss his hair in return, hugging him even tighter.

And as you hold him tight, the two of you know that what happened tonight out there would still haunt Jason despite all your reassurances. But just as you know that, you also know that you’re always going to be there for him. To love him and care for him. So, for tonight, Jason lets himself be lulled to sleep by the sound of your heart. Each rhythmic thump thump telling him, I got you, you’re okay, I love you, over and over again.

Just like for you with him, your arms the place where he feels safest in. Home.

Please let me know what you think! Thanks for reading!

[dickgraysonsbitch]

Hi! Just found your blog and it’s the best thing ever honestly. I was wondering if you could do a Jason Todd x reader where the reader deals with migraines and sensory overloads? If not that’s totally cool, have a nice day!

thank you so much for your ask!! this was actually my first request ever 😭 nonny you will go down in history 💖 a psa that while i do have mild sensory issues, i don’t have migraines, so any and all criticism is welcome!

warnings: pills/migraines | 1.2k words | dividers by @cafekitsune | requests open !

You fell onto the bed, tucking your knees in close to your chest. Fifty minutes. This goddamned headache had been the bane of your whole existence for fifty minutes, and you couldn’t even catch a bloody break. Every week, it would come back like clockwork, and while you had your routine (two advils, an eye mask, and soothing ocean noises all while sitting in a dark room with a singular, mildly-scented lavender candle with two out of three wicks lit) it didn’t change the fact that every minute that you lay there, the throbbing sensation around your head came back worse than before.

Grasping the tip of your nose, you tilted your head back in order to swallow the pills next to you. If you didn’t, you’d eventually gag on the water, and that wasn’t really a pretty sight to see. It was a miracle that you could even work as a hostess, especially on the graveyard shift, because it was taking every ounce of your willpower not to throw up at even the most tamest memories—a sleepy child with food flying out of their mouth, or a costumer shouting about how ‘insane’ you were when you had only gotten through your second advil of the day. It wasn’t enough, clearly, because if it had been, you wouldn’t be holed up in your dark room like a vampire with chronic pain.

One knock on your window jolts you from your ibuprofen-fueled haze. Two knocks. Three knocks—god, who doesn’t have patience in this stupid city? Not everyone can be a metahuman that travels at the speed of sound.

You open your window, head still pulsing, but all thoughts of another cup of mildly sweetened honey tea dissipates when the Red Hood smoothly slides into your living room/kitchen (it’s Gotham! Rent may be low, but you are poor as hell), removes his helmet, and shakes his head like a wet dog, the domino mask he was wearing underneath somehow not falling off. He shoots you a crooked grin before plopping himself on your couch, resting his legs on your coffee table.

“Shoes off,” you grumble. “And for the millionth time, I have a door for a reason. And I put food on that table, and I don’t want to see your nasty feet on it.” While other people might be a bit more reserved when talking to a Bowery drug lord, you had never given yourself the same boundaries. He’d crashed into your apartment when he was injured one night a few months ago, and since then, the Red Hood swore to one, pay off your window, and two, make sure you were safe. In his words, it was the best way to repay you for saving his life—even though you didn’t really do anything of the sort. Basic stitches that you learnt in high school, because that was what they taught when a vigilante could collapse in your house due to blood loss any minute in Gotham.

“Woah…” he raises his hands up in mock surrender, his eyes glinting with mirth. “What’s wrong? Rough shift?”

He can always tell, and you’ve decided to refrain against trying to lie to the only crime lord that you’ll likely ever be friend with, unless the Penguin unexpectedly decides to lumber up your fire escape. (Hood’s gotten you a spiked baseball bat for occasions like that, because you complained about any firearms). A pang of pain from you head. Mental note, put out the candle, no wicks. Darken the room even more, try and fail to go to sleep. You have your second job in the morning tomorrow. Mental note, take a melatonin if you can’t sleep, pack a few pills of ibuprofen and acetaminophen if you can’t get through your morning shift. It’s two AM right now, you could still get three hours of sleep if you—

A rough, calloused hand gently caresses your cheek, sending a tingling sensation down your jawline, all the way down to the base of your spine. Okay, woah. “Take a deep breath, baby.” Hood’s deep, gravelly voice shakes your from your stupor. Oh. You were slipping back into your anxiety induced panic attacks, and you hadn’t even noticed. You take one deep breath, but instead of feeling like you’re stuffing an oversized pillow into a kid sized cover, you’re at ease, letting fresh air flow into your lungs.

“How you doin’ tonight, huh baby? I saw your kitchen light on, thought I’d stop by.” Red Hood rubs a simple circle pattern into your back, letting you lean onto him.

“I bet…” you take a shallow breath. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

A smile cracks through onto his face. “Nah, baby, just you. All the girls have nothing on you, baby. You want to tell me about your day?”

Maybe it was just his voice, but you were almost immediately more at ease than you wee moments ago. Red Hood would’ve had a great calling as a therapist, or even a guidance counselor, but you weren’t sure that he’d like it if you called him, arguably the most fearsome man in Gotham, a service worker. Men were weird that way.

“C-can you talk to me, Hood? I don’t know… you have a nice voice, I guess. Makes me feel safe.”

You could swear that you heard his voice crack before he cleared his throat. “Yeah, yeah, I can do that. So… I guess I didn’t do much today. Oh! This one sleaze-bag was trying to rob this eighth grader, and I’d never seen this old guy, okay? The kid, his name’s James, he immediately just swings his backpack at him. And I come in, this dude’s already gotten a broken nose…”

He keeps talking about the unexpected things that happened during his day, but your eyes are just trained on Hood. His sharp jaw, his toned arms, his hair and the decent-sized white streak that runs through it, his soft lips and the J scar that covered his left cheekbone, and you wondered what it would be like to know him without the mask on. Would he still be the same, sweet guy that you knew?

In a sudden moment of courage, you take Hood’s hand and squeeze it, your heart pounding nervously against your ribcage. “Thank you, Hood.” You whisper. “I don’t know… I don’t know what I would be done if you weren’t here. I’d probably be still having a killer headache right now.”

He smiles, something that you’ve been seeing him do a lot more often than he’s known for. Red Hood, vigilante, drug lord, crime boss? Nowhere to be seen. You try your hardest to gaze past the white lenses over his eyes, concealing his eye color.

“Jay,” he mutters softly, soft enough that if you hadn’t been sitting so close, you wouldn’t have been able to hear a word that he said. “Call me Jay.”

The head comes come back sometimes, but you usually tend to ignore the headaches after a dose of acetaminophen and a head massage from who might be the world’s best vigilante, Jay. You may not know his full name yet, but you know his heart, and under all that armor, under the Red Hood, is a man with a heart of gold.

please please please let me know if i got anything wrong so i can edit it!