#red hood x vigilante!reader

[indulgentdaydream]

Hello!

Can you do Jason todd x reader where he's crushing on the newest vigilante in Gotham?

Thank you

New in Town

Jason Todd x Reader || Fluff || Word Count: 1,185

Warnings: profanity (swearing), death mention, violence, low-key stalking but not really??

Wrote half of the fic. Was nearly finished. It didn’t save. 😩 the ONE time i decide to write outside of the notes app

I love the idea of Jason crushing on someone like a teenage boy because he never actually GOT that chance as a teenager so he never learned how to cope with those kind of feelings, so I sprinkled that in here.

I feel like this is poorly written forgive me 🙏

He hadn’t heard of you until six months ago. He hadn’t cared then, either. You kept to the other side of the city, you didn’t pose a threat, and he was already preoccupied with his own things to deal with. You weren’t that important to him.

Jason was walking across rooftops. Two weeks, roughly, since he had caught wind of the new name, aligned with the rest of the bats.

It was a night where the rain had let up for once. It wasn’t perfect, though. Never was. The clouds still too thick to see the bright moon and stars.

He was looking for an address, one that seemingly didn’t exist. He landed on another rooftop of a short apartment building. Jason could hear the sounds of two people fighting down in the alley below him.

He walked to the edge, looked down, and there you were. Dressed up in your vigilante gear, fighting some thug.

He crouched, watching. This was much more entertaining then his fake address.

The thug was much bigger than you, but you handled yourself well. The thug lurched forward. You planted a hard, flat, kick to his stomach. He stumbled back. You got in a good punch, a right hook. The thug went with it. He bashed his back off the corner of a dumpster before crumbling to the ground.

Jason nodded once in approval. You didn’t play.

You both saw it at the same time. The clouds parted for a moment behind Jason, the light of the moon shining down over Gotham for just a moment.

The shadow of the top of the apartment split the alleyway below in half, with Jason’s crouched form’s shadow landing right in front of the thug.

He stood up and stepped back from the edge just as you started to look up. He was out of sight before you could see him. At most, you saw the glint of his helmet, but nothing else.

He walked away. He didn’t want to deal with this.

Three weeks later, Jason’s standing on a catwalk in one of Gotham’s many abandoned warehouses. He’s high enough up, hidden within a shadow, that they couldn’t see him even if they had the brains to check up instead of around.

He’s holding his AR-15, pointed down below at the drug dealers he’s been following all week. His aim is steady, mind going over the motions of the possibilities.

“Psst.”

Jason whipped his head up. He aimed the rifle in front of him. There, on the other catwalk, ten feet away from him, was you.

You were leaning on the railing, smiling. Jason didn’t like how his first thought was the realization that this was the closest he had ever been to you.

“Want some help?” You whispered loudly, your smile pulling into a grin.

He looked back down, fixing his aim, “No.”

You leaned further over the railing, exposing nearly half your body to the drug dealers below if they so happened to look up. You whispered your name. Your vigilante name, that is. He didn’t respond.

“Rude,” he heard you mutter. You stayed silent for just a moment as he watched the dealers walk around their table, complaining about their business not showing up. The business that Jason had left dead in an alleyway an hour ago.

Silent treatment wasn’t going to work. You spoke up again, “Why didn’t you say hello? When you saw me in the alley?”

“Maybe I didn’t want to.” Except he had wanted to, just not like that. And not like this.

It was your turn to stay silent. Jason looked up without moving. With his helmet, you couldn’t tell if he was, or was watching the men below.

Standing up straight again, your head was turned away a little, obviously listening to somebody babble away in your ear.

He looked back down before you turned your head back, “Welp, should’ve accepted my offer. I gotta go.”

“Buh-bye,” Jason said dryly before you were walking off down the catwalk.

What can he say? He was intrigued after that. He’d watch you fight from hidden corners, never daring to step out. He waited for the right opportunity to talk to you again. He… did it for too long. A couple months too long.

It wasn’t stalking. That’s what he told himself. He hadn’t pushed to discover your identity, hadn’t learned your exact schedule. He just… kept looking for a chance to talk.

Jason hated it. Hated that he couldn’t come up with a way to approach you. Hated how he got tongue tied thinking about it. How his palms got damp. What could he say?

He ran into Dick one night. They sat on the edge of a building and talked. Which turned to bickering for a while, before it came into a “Who had the worst Bruce experience” argument.

He shut up the second you landed on the roof behind them, “I could hear you two from an entire street over.”

Dick clapped his hands together, a smile breaking out at the sight of you. Jason turned to watch. He walked over, happily calling your name. He got to you, pointing at Jason as he slipped an arm around your shoulders, “Tell this guy he’s wrong.”

You frowned, “I don’t even know this guy.”

Jason remembered he had taken off his helmet, left in only his domino mask. You couldn’t see the rest of his clothes from the fact he’s sitting facing away from you.

Speak! Dammit! He chided himself. He picked up his helmet from his side, bringing it around to show you. He watched your eyes widen in recognition.

“Ooooh,” you immediately nodded, “Yeah. You’re wrong.”

Jason found his words with an amused smirk, “You don’t even know what for.”

You shrug and Dick laughs, “That’s the spirit!”

Jason turned back around. He pretended like he was watching the city line, but he was really listening to yours and Dick’s conversation. He kept trying to look for ways in, ways to talk to you.

Now! Nope, Dick said something unrelated, too quickly. Now your conversation went in that direction. Here! Too late. He hesitated.

He stopped listening, pursing his lips in annoyance at his own stupid, boyish inability to talk to the attractive new vigilante.

“Oh… he said he didn’t want to talk to me. Probably annoyed by my presence.”

He tuned back in.

“How rude.”

“That’s what I said!”

Jason looked back over his shoulder. The two of you were standing there, arms crossed, looking at him.

“What?”

Dick seemed to remember something, “Have you two even been formally introduced?”

You grumbled something along the lines of, “Tried that.”

Jason shrugged, “I’ve seen them around,” he met your eyes, “You fight good.”

What kind of fucking compliment is that?

“So do you,” you smiled.

Jason’s eyebrows furrowed a little in confusion. You could see the movement through the domino mask, “You’ve never seen me fight.”

You grinned, pointing at him, “That’s what you think.”

Jason smirked a little. Oh, he liked you, alright.

[drvoos]

she was beautiful. the kind of beautiful which made you stop when she passed you on the street to gawk. skin tanned dark by the sun, red luscious hair flowing down her back in waves. the amazons were known to be of another planet when it comes to looks. i mean, just look at diana.

at first it didn’t bother you. i mean, she was just another hero. there’s tons others out there that rivaled her. you weren’t too bad yourself, but you knew you were nothing compared to her. she was practically a goddess. so, when you learned of her history with your lover, jason todd, your view began to change.

as a vigilante of the night yourself you were used to working with the league. jason was adamant that you help with their missions, and slowly you had began to realize why. you saw the way he looked at her. like she was a blooming flower in the desert, and he had been deprived of looking at something that beautiful for years.

you had mentioned some worry to him awhile ago, when he first told you of your concern. what are you talkin’ about? he had asked, staring at you as if you were crazy. she’s nothin’ but a bad dream now.

his words from that night would permanently engrave themselves into your brain. they would follow you for the rest of your life — even now as you stared at the two sitting side by side on the roof of whatever building you couldn’t remember the name of. luckily they hadn’t noticed your presence as you blended into the shadows behind them.

it’s just a bad dream. you repeated. just a bad dream.

[maj-b-s]

Black mask: Relationships are ephemeral, if that.

Black mask: but a woman like Gotham? she is forever.

Black mask: Even though I was so mistreated in recent years.

V/n: So you want to date Gotham? Wow, the biggest hear me out I've ever seen and I don't know if I support it, I don't think so- *gets hit in the head*

*Red Hood giving Y/n a look that says "what the hell are you doing!?" (Y/n interpreted it as this since they don't know)*

V/n: Oh shit! It hurt! But I understand, I'll shut up *crosses arms*

Red hood: I'm sorry about my partner.

Black mask: It's not a problem, they are very interesting guys.

V/n: Scary *mumbles and grabs Jason's arm*

[bluetooththereptile]

When office is better than home

Being the best lawyer Gotham can offer is a ludicrous job, the city of the dead is rife with crime and nearly every person in the legal system is corrupt, and if you want to make some money you just need to tweak some strings, but thankfully you don't need to feed on those venues, you have something even better, you're Bruce Wayne's personal lawyer.

Bruce is the best boss, he always make sure everyone at the office is taken care off, paid leave whenever you have a reasonable explanation, food coming from the best restraunts in Gotham, best payments and so on, getting there is a massive feat, but when you do everything is easy, well, until it backfires.

"Is everything alright at home Y/N?" Bruce asked you as you absent-mindedly fidgeted with your files, he had assured you he didn't want to scold you for you current failure at one of his cases about a certain oil company, he was just worried for your wellbeing, shit , he must have noticed the scars and bruises on your body! You knew you had to apply makeup before coming in but your lazy bum told you it'd be fine, ugh!

Reader is a vigilante in Gotham that batman doesn't know the identity of, and the same vigilante works for him as well without them both knowing, now things has gotten tangled up.

Don't worry, Bruce's understanding, and Batman is already accepting of you to an extent.

"You're injured" came Batman's deep rumbling voice behind you "Had a small scuffle with bane, that is all" you replied, your voice warped by your mask "Let me see" "Pardon?!" "You can not go with your shoulder aching like this, the injury seems extensive, let me see" shit.

[librababe99]

Vigilante's Lullaby |Part One|

cw: Red Hood, Gender Neutral Reader, Angst, Mentions of violence, blood, injury, medical procedure, hurt no comfort, dark romance, hurt no comfort word count: 1.9K summary: In the shadows of Gotham’s underworld, you run a clinic that caters to those no one else dares to help. One night, Red Hood stumbles in, bloodied and defiant, refusing assistance despite his wounds. As you force him to stay, a strange, electrifying tension fills the air.

A/N: Hello! Just finished up the final edits to the first part of this new series. For the sake of dramatics I really liked the idea of leaving Jason's identity anonymous and sticking with his alias. Also as of now I'm wanting this to be a four part series but of course that can change! If you'd like to be tagged in the next part just let know <3 As always comments and feedback are greatly appreciated - Libra * .♡ *:･ﾟ✧ ⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆

(DC Masterlist) (Marvel Masterlist)

(Synopsis) (Part Two)

The clinic was a small, dimly lit space tucked away in the decaying heart of Gotham’s underbelly. The walls were cracked and worn, the faded paint peeling in corners no one bothered to care about anymore. Shadows lingered in every corner, as thick as the stench of sweat and antiseptic that clung to the air. It was late—well past the time most sane people would be out in Gotham. But sanity was a luxury in a city like this, and you’d long since learned to live without it.

You leaned over the trembling form of a thug, stitching up the gash in his side with quick, practiced movements. He wasn’t important—just some small-time crook who got into a fight he couldn’t win. It wasn’t your job to ask questions. You weren’t paid for that. People came to you because you never asked why, and you never judged. Criminal, vigilante, or something in between, it didn’t matter. In Gotham, everyone bled the same.

The thug winced, muttering a half-hearted complaint, and you hushed him quietly, focusing on the task at hand. It was routine—just another night in a city that never slept, where violence was a constant companion.

Then the door slammed open, hard enough to rattle the rusting hinges.

You looked up, instincts on edge, fingers stilling mid-stitch. A figure loomed in the doorway, casting a long shadow across the floor. The helmet gave him away immediately—Red Hood. His presence dominated the room, his chest heaving, blood dripping onto the worn floorboards.

"Out," his voice growled, distorted through the modulator in his helmet. It wasn’t directed at you.

The thug on the table scrambled up, clutching his side. He didn’t wait for a second warning. As soon as Red Hood stepped into the room, the thug fled into the night, disappearing into Gotham’s shadows.

The vigilante staggered forward, his movements heavy, labored. Blood soaked through his jacket, staining the dark fabric and leaving a trail of crimson in his wake. His breathing was harsh, his body barely holding itself together, but when you moved toward him, his gloved hand shot up.

“I don’t need your help,” he growled, even though his knees almost buckled from the effort of staying upright.

You stopped short, eyeing him carefully. His wounds were bad. Too bad. He wouldn’t last long in this state, not even in Gotham. But you’d seen his type before. The kind who thought they could muscle through the pain, through death itself, out of sheer willpower. Maybe he had cheated death once, but not tonight. Not like this.

“You’ll die if I don’t patch you up,” you said, voice calm but firm. You weren’t afraid of him. That was important. Red Hood’s entire persona thrived on fear. “Sit down. Now.”

His helmet turned slightly, as if sizing you up. There was tension in the way he held himself, every muscle coiled tight, ready for violence even though his body was betraying him. His fingers twitched like they were ready to reach for his gun. But you stood your ground.

“I’m not going to ask twice,” you added, eyes narrowing. “You won’t make it out of this room if you don’t let me help.”

For a long, painful moment, he didn’t move. The silence stretched, thick with tension. Then, with a sharp intake of breath, he let his hand drop to his side. A begrudging acceptance. He stepped forward and sank into the chair, the weight of his injuries catching up to him.

You didn’t hesitate. Moving quickly, you grabbed your supplies and knelt beside him, carefully peeling back his jacket to expose the wound. The gash across his side was deep, and there were other cuts and bruises littering his body, evidence of a fight he barely survived.

As you worked, the room fell into a tense quiet, broken only by the sound of his labored breathing. You could feel the heat radiating off him, the mix of blood and sweat clinging to his skin. Your fingers brushed against his flesh, the contact sending an unexpected jolt through you. The air between you seemed to grow heavier with each passing moment, thick with something unspoken.

He watched you from behind the mask, his eyes hidden but his presence palpable. You didn’t flinch, didn’t show any reaction to the violence he wore so plainly on his skin. You’d seen worse, and you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of thinking he unsettled you. Still, there was something in the way he sat so still now, the way his body surrendered to your touch, that made the space between you feel... electric.

“You don’t ask questions,” Red Hood said after a while, his voice low, almost conversational now. There was a hint of something behind his words, like he was testing you. “Everyone else does.”

“I’m not everyone else,” you replied simply, not looking up from his wounds as you stitched them closed with quick precision.

He made a noise, somewhere between a grunt and a laugh, though there was no humor in it. “No. I guess you’re not.”

Your hands lingered for a moment longer than necessary as you finished up, the tips of your fingers brushing against the edge of his skin. His body tensed slightly, and you could feel the air shift between you. There was a moment—brief, almost imperceptible—where Red Hood’s guard dropped. His gaze softened behind the mask, as if for just a second, he was letting you see past the armor. Past the walls he had built so high.

But then, just as quickly, it was gone.

Red Hood stood abruptly, wincing as he moved, pulling his jacket back into place. He didn’t say thank you—he wasn’t the type. He didn’t have to. The way his eyes lingered on you, just for a heartbeat longer than they should have, told you everything.

“Don’t expect me to come back,” he muttered as he made his way to the door.

You didn’t respond. You didn’t have to.

He disappeared into the night, and you stood in the quiet aftermath, staring at the blood he left behind on the floor. Something about that encounter stuck with you. It was more than just another wounded vigilante passing through your clinic. It felt like the start of something darker. Something deeper.

A week passed, and you tried not to think about him.

But Gotham had a way of bringing people back into your life whether you wanted them or not. The nights were long, the clinic busy as always, but a part of you found yourself glancing at the door more than you cared to admit. You told yourself it was just a matter of curiosity—nothing more.

Until he returned.

This time, Red Hood didn’t burst in with the same dramatic entrance. He slipped through the door quietly, his presence immediately recognizable despite the effort he seemed to make to go unnoticed. He was wounded again, though not as badly as before. His jacket was torn, blood staining his side, but his steps were more measured, less desperate.

You raised an eyebrow as he stepped into the light, crossing your arms over your chest. “I thought you weren’t coming back.”

His lips twisted into something like a smirk, though there was no humor behind it. “Didn’t have a choice.”

Without waiting for your response, he sat down in the chair again, wincing as he moved. You took a deep breath, grabbing your supplies once more. This time, there was less urgency, but the tension between you had only grown in his absence. As you worked, the silence stretched again, but it wasn’t the same. The weight of unspoken words hung in the air.

“You live like this every night?” you asked after a while, breaking the quiet. “Bleeding all over the city?”

He chuckled, though it was dark and hollow. “It’s Gotham. Bleeding’s part of the job description.”

You glanced up at him, instinctively drawn to where his eyes should be beneath the mask, though you still couldn’t see them. The white lenses covering his eyes remained in place, a barrier between the two of you, preventing you from truly seeing the man beneath. But you could feel his gaze on you, sharp and unwavering, as if he were studying you just as closely.

There was always something about that mask—how it made him unreadable, cold, distant. Yet, in moments like this, when the tension in the room grew thick, you could feel the weight of emotions hidden behind it. The silence stretched on for a beat too long, the sound of your steady breathing filling the space as you tried to ignore the electric pull between you.

“And what job is that, exactly?” you asked, your tone carefully measured. You couldn’t let your curiosity get the better of you, but the question slipped out before you could stop it.

He hesitated for a brief moment, his head tilting slightly as if considering his answer, though the visor obscured any hint of where his gaze fell. "Righting wrongs. Settling scores," he finally said, his voice low and cold. "Call it whatever you want."

The cold finality in his voice sent a shiver down your spine. He wasn’t just talking about Gotham’s criminals. No, there was something more personal in his words. He was talking about himself—his own demons, his own darkness.You didn’t push further. It wasn’t your place, and you knew better than to pry into the shadows he carried. But it didn’t stop you from feeling the weight of it, the sheer force of the rage and pain he carried with him.

“I’ve seen plenty of people come through here with wounds like yours,” you said softly, focusing back on the gash you were stitching up, your hands steady despite the tension in the air. “They usually don’t last long. This city eats people alive.”

His head tilted slightly, and though you couldn’t see his eyes, you felt the intensity of his attention shift back to you. For a moment, the air felt heavier, thicker. His voice, when he finally spoke again, was low, rough. “I’m not most people.”

You couldn’t help the small, bitter smile that tugged at your lips. “No. I guess you’re not.”

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. In fact, it felt charged, like standing on the edge of something dangerous. There was always something about him that made you feel that way, as though you were staring into an abyss and contemplating whether to jump. Maybe you were a danger to each other, a collision waiting to happen.

When you finished patching him up, your fingers lingered, the soft brush of your skin against his as you pulled the gauze into place. This time, he didn’t flinch, didn’t pull away. Instead, he remained still, the air between you crackling with something unspoken.You glanced up at him again, meeting the featureless gaze of his mask, your breath catching in your throat. You couldn’t see his eyes, but you could feel them on you, feel the tension simmering beneath the surface.

Something was happening between you two—something inevitable, dangerous, and completely out of your control.

Without a word, he stood, pulling his jacket back over his bandaged torso. The movement was sudden, almost abrupt, as if he needed to break the moment before it went any further. He didn’t say goodbye. Didn’t offer any words of gratitude or reassurance.

But you knew he’d be back.

Even as he left, the heavy door of your clinic closing behind him, the presence of him lingered in the room—dark, dangerous, and unmistakably powerful. The pull between you both was undeniable, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever was happening between you was far from over.

And it was only a matter of time before that tension snapped.

[thirstydemisexual]

Blood Path || Jason Todd x Vampire!reader

MASTERLIST

Jason finally gets to have an education after his legally dead status gets revoked. Something in his life is finally going how he wants it. He even meets a girl in his course that seems to make everyone of his problems fade away. But she deserves better, better than a broken person like him. A monster. She could never think the same of herself right? Right?

....

You are finally free from the man that turned into your monster, you are free, but alone... apart from that incredible hunger that keeps you constant company. Satiating it by taking out human traffickers and hunting down other vampires seems like a good solution right? After all, who is going to miss them?

(ORIGINAL): here

warnings: 18+ content, blood, gore, dead dove do not eat, abuse, a lot of trauma discussion

REVAMPED SERIES:

🩸PART 1 :THE BEGINNING coming soon...

🩸PART 2: coming soon...

🩸PART 3: coming soon...

....

divider by: @sister-lucifer

TAG LIST: @deimks, @amber-content , @deans-spinster-witch , @that-one-goblin , @snowy-violet , @thenightwingnerd , @zffhahaa , @v1naco , @fictionalwhor3 , @heyitsaloy , @vinxernica @yourhornysister

@belowbreadcrumbs @ladylupuscrow

@v3vina @burningvoidsoul @qxuanii

comment to be added to the tag list

[captainsophiestark]

Worth The Risk

Jason Todd x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for Fictober 2024!

Fandom: DC

Day Twenty-Eight Prompt: "Just say what you want"

Summary: Jason's teammate has been trying to ask him out for a long time now, but he's always ducked the question before it's officially been asked. Now, it seems he's finally ready to talk about why.

Word Count: 1,955

Category: Fluff, little bit of Angst?

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

"I'm telling you, Art, I'm starting to go a little crazy! He'll flirt with me all day long, but the minute I try to turn it into a date or a kiss or even a fucking conversation, he pulls back like he's been shocked!"

I could hear Artemis, one of my best friends, trying to stifle a laugh on the other end of the line. I narrowed my eyes, but didn't call her out on it. I had bigger problems right now, as far as I was concerned.

"Okay, when you say you've tried to turn it into a conversation...?"

"I mean I've gotten as far as 'so, Jason, I've been thinking' before he suddenly has a call coming in from Bruce or an urgent cramp in his leg or a super interesting bird outside the window that he has to go look at right now!"

This time, Artemis didn't bother trying to hold back her laugh. I scowled even though she couldn't see it.

Jason Todd and I had been friends for a while now, working together as vigilantes. We'd hit it off from the first time we met, and our relationship had always been a little flirty. More recently, though, it had felt on the verge of something more. And I wanted that. I liked Jason, a lot, and I wanted to see where we might be able to go, if he was interested too.

Most of the time, it did seem like he was interested. But for whatever reason, he kept pulling a 180 on me and defaulting to more platonic behavior than we'd ever had with each other any time I tried to bring it up. I'd decided to talk to Artemis about it, to see if she could give me any advice or anything, but so far she'd been absolutely no help.

"Alright, Art, I'm glad I've been able to entertain you tonight, but can you please-"

I stopped short at the sound of a knock on my door. I frowned. I hadn't ordered anything, and I wasn't expecting anyone. So who the hell was at my apartment?

"Hey, you still there? You alright?"

I hummed, standing from my seat in the kitchen and heading for the door.

"I'm fine. Somebody just knocked on my door, hold on."

I leaned forward to peer through the peep hole, and to my immense shock, I saw Jason Todd standing on my doormat. After a few moments of stunned silence, I finally managed a few words into the phone.

"Yeah, Art? I think I'm gonna have to call you back."

I hung up without waiting for her reply. I'd owe her an explanation later, but I knew she'd understand. Whatever this was about, it seemed pretty serious. Jason had never once shown up at my civilian residence, despite both knowing each other's identities.

I cleared my throat and stuck my phone in my pocket, trying to get a handle on the nerves that had suddenly exploded in my chest. After a moment, I couldn't stall anymore. I took a deep breath and opened the door to find Jason fidgeting almost as much as I was.

"Hey," I said, giving him a weak smile. "What's... what's up? Everything okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, everything's fine," Jason said, glancing down and rubbing at the back of his neck. "I just... wanted to talk to you. About something. Didn't want to wait till the next time I saw you on the rooftops, hunting somebody down. I hope that's okay."

"Yeah! Of course, yeah. Come on in."

I took a quick step back from the door, holding it open for Jason and trying not to let him see my nerves. He walked through, but stopped in the entryway between the kitchen and the living room, looking a little lost. All I could do was stare at him for a moment as I shut the door. It was strange to see Jason in the middle of my civilian apartment like this, but it was also the kind of strange I could get used to.

"Here, take a seat," I said, heading to the kitchen and motioning towards one of the stools at the counter. "Can I get you a water or something?"

Jason cleared his throat, moving with me after a moment's delay.

"A water would be great, actually. Thanks."

"Sure thing."

I used the time it took me to get some water from the fridge, with my back turned to Jason, to take a few deep breaths. I was a vigilante, for god's sake, I knew how to keep myself from panicking in stressful situations. I wasn't going to let this impromtu visit unravel me.

I returned to Jason with a water for each of us, then sat down at the stool next to his. I was still a little nervous, but my heart had at least stopped pounding quite so quickly, and my hands weren't shaking when I set down the waters.

"So... you wanna tell me what's up?"

Jason cleared his throat, shifting in his seat before meeting my eyes. I gave him a little smile, and it seemed to help him relax, at least slightly. He smiled back.

"Listen... I really like spending time with you. And working with you and talking to you and... and everything. And Roy has been telling me he's sick of listening to me talk about you, so I'm taking his advice and coming to talk to you."

My heart did a backflip in my chest, but I refused to get too far ahead of myself. Jason still looked grim and stressed out of his mind, like he did when I tried to ask him out, which didn't exactly match the positive topic I was hoping this conversation might have.

"So... what are you saying?" I asked, trying to keep my tone light. "Because it sounds like you're building up to one thing, but your tone and your body language is pointing to something very different. Are you trying to ask me on a date, or trying to tell me you're not interested."

"I'm not not interested," Jason responded quickly. I raised an eyebrow, but he looked more stressed than before.

"Okay... so then, what is it? Just say what you want, Jay."

Jason took a long, deep breath in, closing his eyes for a minute and apparently trying to get in the right headspace. When he finally opened his eyes again and met my gaze, he at least looked marginally calmer.

"I want to ask you out."

"...I feel like there's a but coming."

"...But... I don't know, I just feel like you should be fully informed. I'm not necesserily the most... stable potential partner. I'm still working through a lot of shit from before and after the Lazurus Pit, and I'm a regular letdown to my family. That whole experience... I think it broke something in me. And I've been trying to fix what it broke, but I'm not sure I can. I don't want you agreeing to a date or anything else without knowing exactly what you're getting into."

I frowned, which Jason seemed to take as an expected bad sign. His shoulders slumped a little, and he looked resigned. I shook my head.

"Jason... what the hell are you talking about?" Jason opened his mouth like he intended to speak, but I held up a hand to cut him off. "That was mostly a rhetorical question. Believe it or not, I've gotten to know you pretty well in the time we've spent together, working side by side in life and death situations and passing days upon days with each other. And frankly? I like you. A lot. If you hadn't sent up the signals for a hard no everytime I tried, I would've asked you out a long time ago."

Jason sighed. "I still feel like you don't know what you're getting into. I don't want to go down this road and have you end up regretting it and hating me."

"Okay," I said, letting out a sigh of my own. "First of all, let's clear something up. Not once have you disappointed me or let me down, not in all the time we've known each other and worked together, even though you've had plenty of opportunities. And Jay, I didn't know you as Robin. I don't know the old you that you're so intent on comparing yourself to. But the guy sitting in front of me right now? He refuses to see it, but he's a wonderful person and friend, and anyone would be lucky to date him."

Jason flushed and looked down at his lap, but I didn't stop.

"Second, if I ever hear Batman or another one of your family members calling you a disappointment, it's game over for them. I'm punching them in the mouth like they deserve, and that's the end of that."

Jason snorted, briefly picking his head up to give me a look. I grinned back at him.

"And third..." I let the smile fall from my face, adopting a serious expression instead as I gently reached out to take one of Jason's hands. To my delight, he let me. "Third, nobody knows how things're gonna go when they go on a date with somebody. There's no real predicting that, there's no garuntees that we'll be perfectly matched and instantly work out and never have trouble forever and ever. But I know you're a good person, and I love spending time with you, and I trust you with my life, and my heart likes to do a gymnastics routine whenever you're in the same room as me. So if you feel similarly about me, and you want to give it a shot...?"

Jason sighed, chewing on his lip for a moment as he stared at me. Finally, he nodded.

"Yeah. Yeah, I really do."

"Good. Then that's that, Jay. There's no garuntees of anything, but that doesn't mean we shouldn't try. The only way to really lose is to let fear keep us from taking a shot at happiness, right?"

Jason shook his head, but he was smiling all the same as he took my other hand in his, too.

"I guess you do make a pretty convincing argument. But seriously, are you sure you want to do this? It... feels like it could lead to a lot of complications."

"Jason, I'm sure." I laughed. "Honestly, I have been for a long time now. Are you sure?"

I saw Jason take another bracing breath. Then he straightened, shoulders back, and gave me a genuine smile.

"Yeah. I'm sure."

"Great! Then what do you say we turn tonight into our first official date? I was just about to make dinner, and I've got some good movies we can pick from."

Jason's smile grew, taking on a little bit of an edge.

"That sounds perfect to me. As long as you promise to let me take you out for our second date. Somewhere nice."

"Believe it or not, that's not going to take too much convincing."

The two of us shared a smile again, and I gave Jason's hands a squeeze before standing and heading for the kitchen. He joined me, and when I stood at the counter to lay things out, Jason only hesitated for a second before coming up behind me to wrap his hands around my waist. He leaned in to place a soft kiss on my temple, and I leaned back, a smile on my face.

This time, my heart didn't do a backflip. Instead it radiated warmth through my chest and into the rest of my body. I knew we were at the beginning of our road, and there were no garuntees about what might be at the end of it. Still. I couldn't help having a good feeling.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989 @samreich @misshale21

DC Taglist: @gaychaosgremlin @v1ckycheesue @lavender-dinos @g0atmansbridge182

[slut4thebroken]

Ruin

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Jason Todd x reader

Summary | Jason punishes you after you disobey him.

Warnings | Smut, 18+, sexual content, knifeplay, blood, cutting, brief use of guns, bondage, ruined orgasms, overstimulation, denial, pain play, sex toys, dacryphilia, hard to soft dom Jay, established relationship.

Words | 3.3 k

Notes | For reader’s suit, imagine Black Windows’s but it’s not one whole piece, it’s a top and a bottom but still in the same style. (And yes… part of this was based on a video😭)

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

“You disobeyed a direct order!” He seethed, slamming the front door shut. You huffed and turned around to face him with your arms crossed. 

“Well, your order was shit.” You shrugged, making his jaw clench as he exhaled through his nose. 

“If you can’t do what you’re told then you can’t work with me.” 

“You mean work for you.” You narrowed your eyes at him and he scoffed. “Why can’t you just admit that you were wrong for once and I made the right call.” Your voice started to raise again. 

“You could have died! And all because, what? Your pride?” He asked in disbelief. 

“But I didn’t!”

“Because I had to fucking save your ass!” 

You and Jason have always been too similar. A lot of the same things set you off, you’re both too cocky, care too much about your pride and ego. And you can bet that if one starts screaming, the other will too. Your anger fuels his, just like his fuels yours. 

“I’m not one of your little underlings that has to follow your every command, Jason. And if that’s what you think, you need to get your head out of your ass.” Your voice was lower now, but still full of malice. 

“You know what, princess?” He started stalking toward you but you held your ground. “I think you’ve forgotten your place. And I’m going to remind you.”

“Oh fuck off, Todd.” You watched the muscles in his jaw tense. You never call him by his last name unless he’s really pissing you off. Before you could even blink, his hand was in your hair, pulling your head back and moving you closer to him. His breath fanned your lips but you made sure to keep the scowl on your face. 

“Fuck you.” You hissed, debating if you should spit in his face or not. Instead, you grabbed a knife from your pants and held it up to his neck. He gave you an unimpressed look and then his gun was under your chin. So you used your second hand to do the same with your own gun. His grip tightened on your hair and you both just stared at each other, having a silent battle for dominance. Despite the fact that you’re both bluffing, you pressed the knife harder against his skin, watching a small bead of blood fall to his collarbone. 

“Everything you do right now I’m going to do ten times worse to you in a few minutes.” He warned, not even flinching at the blade piercing his skin. You stared at him with narrowed eyes, but you could feel your confidence and dominance start to break— the submissive part of you forcing its way up through the cracks. You clenched your jaw and hardened your gaze, willing it to go back down. But Jason already knew. You could tell by the way his lips were slowly curling up into a smirk. 

“Put the knife away, baby.” You ignored the butterflies from the pet name and glared at him. 

“Keep patronizing me and I’ll cut out your vocal cords.” You spat. 

“I’m sure you will, princess.” He smirked and you fucking knew he said it with that tone specifically because of what you just said. You breathed heavily as you seethed, his low laughter only fueling your anger. With a growl, you shoved his chest— you weren’t strong enough to actually move him, but he humored you by moving with the force, letting go of your hair. 

“Keep taunting me, princess and I’ll shoot you.” You pointed the gun at him, clenching your jaw. 

“Oh yeah?” He smirked, clearly entertained by your outburst. He was on you in a second, pushing the gun to the side and forcing the knife out of your hand, making you whimper when he bent your wrist the wrong way. Once he disarmed you, he placed a hand on your neck and quickly pushed you back until you hit the wall with a grunt. 

“You need to learn your fucking place.” He growled, squeezing your neck. 

“You’re supposed to teach me?” You scoffed, adding gasoline to the fire. Instead of reacting with anger like you thought he would, his eyes darkened and he smirked.  

“That’s right, baby. Now get your ass on the bed.” He took a step away from you and pointed his gun at your face. When you didn’t move, he cocked it, making you roll your eyes but start walking. You sat on the bed, looking up at him with a smirk. 

“Take away that gun and what are you? Just a little boy desperate for control.” The second you said it, you knew you fucked up. 

Bad. 

He glared at you for a moment and you held your breath as you waited, then he just chuckled darkly and set the gun on the nightstand. While he was there, he grabbed the handcuffs and vibrator you always keep in the drawer. You put up a fight as he handcuffed you but he overpowered you easily. To immobilize your legs, he just sat on your thighs. 

He dragged the zipper of your suit down at a tortuously slow pace. Once it was unzipped, he pulled a knife from his pants and cut your bra straight down the middle. You shouted a protest, which was ignored as he pushed the fabric to the side, exposing your breasts. 

“So soft.” He muttered absentmindedly as he trailed the tip of the knife over your chest. “So delicate��” He trailed it up to your neck then pressed down in the same place you had cut him. “So fragile.” You hissed when the blade broke the skin but showed no other reaction. 

He removed the knife and leaned down, licking a stripe up your neck, over the cut. You let out a low moan and subconsciously lifted your hands to place in his hair. The chain rattling on the headboard made him pull back with a small smirk. 

He put the tip of the knife back on your neck to continue, going up your jaw, then down your cheek before landing on your bottom lip. Your breath hitched as the skin split under the blade and once he was satisfied with the amount of blood, he removed it and leaned back down to kiss you. 

You moaned into the kiss and he groaned in response, licking his tongue into your mouth, focusing on your lip before sliding inside to meet your own. The kiss was hot and messy and almost aggressive but so entirely Jason. 

He pulled away, but immediately moved to your neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses and dark bruises. He gave one last kiss on the cut on your neck, then sat up again. If all he was planning on doing to punish you was cut you occasionally and kiss you… well that wasn’t much of a punishment at all to be honest. You tried not to smirk at the thought. 

“You’re awfully quiet tonight.” You hinted at the question you wanted to ask instead. 

“Baby, why would I talk dirty to you when I know how much you love it?” He grinned, making you frown. Instead of pouting you tried a different tactic. 

“Sounds like an excuse to be lazy. Is that also why you got the vibrator out?” You smirked, glancing at the toy on the bed. “Careful, Jay. You’re awfully close to becoming a pillow princess.”  

“Keep talking. You’re only making it worse for yourself and more fun for me.” He said smugly. 

“What’s a pillow princess gonna do?” You scoffed, still smirking. You were always terrible at knowing when to keep your mouth shut. He stared at you for a moment, then laughed quietly at your disobedience and moved between your legs. He pulled on the waistband of your pants and underwear, forcing them down your legs until they were at your ankles, where he had to quickly rip your boots off to fully remove them. Then he was back to sitting over your thighs. 

He didn’t even say anything as he picked up the vibrator, immediately turning it on and pressing it against your clit. You let out a choked moan from the sudden stimulation and he started slowly moving it in small circles, still maintaining firm pressure. You squeezed your eyes shut with a long vulgar moan and heard him chuckle quietly. 

“Fuck— Jason.” You said through a breath, feeling yourself already close to the edge. It’s rare that you ever need to use the vibrator so whenever you do, it’s always really intense. You expected him to pull away, to make a remark about how you don’t have permission to come, but he didn’t say or do anything. Not being able to hold it any longer, you fell over the edge, then all stimulation was gone. You let out a choked sob and opened your eyes to look at him. 

“Jason,” You whimpered, giving him the pout that always makes him cave. By now, your ruined orgasm was done and your chest heaved as you watched him. 

“I’m sorry, did you still want this?” He condescended, glancing at the toy then back to you. 

“Fuck you.” You growled, now angry from the lack of pleasurable release. He clicked his tongue and turned it back on, pressing it firmly against your now sensitive clit. You cried out, trying to squirm away from him, but not being able to because of him sitting on your legs. 

“S-stop, Jay— stop,” You whimpered, barely able to handle the overstimulation. He just let out a dark chuckle, making you look at him with watery eyes. 

“No, baby. We’re gonna do this over and over again and I’m only gonna stop once it dies.” He smirked. You let out a strangled whimper and yanked your hands forward, the metal chain rattling loudly on the headboard. 

“Please, I- I’m sorry,” He shushed you and you let your words die off into incoherent babbling. 

“You did this to yourself. You’re a big girl, you can handle the consequences of your own actions.” He condescended. You shook your head and squeezed your eyes shut. 

“Can’t…” Despite your words, you could already feel your second orgasm barreling toward you. After only another moment, the coil in your stomach snapped and you let out a loud moan that turned into a sob when he once again removed the vibrator. 

“Please! Please, I'm sorry!” You cried, the tears in your eyes threatening to fall. “Please, Jay, I won’t do it again. I promise— please,” He brought his hand down hard on your sensitive clit with a loud smack, forcing a broken moan from you.  

“No amount of begging is gonna get you out of this, princess.” 

“Jason,” You whimpered. Your watery puppy dog eyes had no effect on him though. He placed the vibrator back on your clit, making you cry out and yank on the handcuffs again. “Fuck! Jay— Jay, please.” You gasped, squeezing your eyes shut and feeling hot tears start to roll down your temples. 

“God you look so fucking hot like this. Let me see those pretty fuck me eyes.” Your eyes fluttered open and you stared up at him through wet lashes, bottom lip trembling. “Jesus fucking christ.” He groaned, gaze rapidly moving over your face and the rest of your body. 

“Aren’t you a fuckin sight, huh? Tits out, arms tied to the bed, tears running down that pretty face, and look at how red your little pussy is, baby.” He lifted the vibrator and you let out a heavy breath of relief as your chest heaved. The second you looked down like he said, the toy was back on your clit. Your crying intensified and you continued trying to squirm away from the stimulation. 

“Jay— fuck… Please, Jay.. hurts so bad.” You whimpered, pulling out all the stops to get his mercy. “Please, baby, I’m sorry— I won’t do it again, I promise. I’ll listen to you.” 

“I know you will. But I also know it’s going to take more than just this to make your words actually truthful. Right now you’re just saying what I want to hear to get me to stop.” 

“No! No, I- I'm not lying, Jay.” 

“I don’t believe you.” He shrugged, making you let out a sob and pull on the restraints again, your legs trying to kick him off of you. “Throwing a tantrum now?” He asked with raised brows. 

“Fuck— Jay, please. I’m sorry.” You whimpered. 

“Shh, baby. You don’t want the gag, do you?” You whined at the threat, bottom lip trembling, and shook your head. “That’s what I thought. So why don’t you shut the fuck up and take your punishment, like a good little girl?” Your third orgasm hit you suddenly, but as soon as your back arched and your eyes squeezed shut, he removed the vibrator, making you release an anguished cry. 

He kept that up for what felt like hours. After the fifth orgasm you could barely talk, but after the seventh, you lost count of how many ones he ruined. When the vibrator finally died, you were both relieved and disappointed. 

“Ready for my cock?” He asked, making your breath hitch. You nodded, not even attempting to speak, and watched him walk over to the closet where most of the sex toys are stored. When he came back with a fleshlight, you whined with a pout. “Relax, I’m still gonna fuck you, princess.” You were too fucked out to try and figure out what that meant. He lined up the end with your hole, making you tense up. 

“What are you doing?” Your words slurred together, heavy with exhaustion. 

“Shh. Just trust me, baby.” He cooed and you couldn’t help but obey, your body relaxing into the bed. You whined when he pushed the toy in, feeling far too sensitive, but also relieved that you were finally full. When he settled between your legs and took out his cock, it finally clicked. 

“Jay,” You whined, watching as he stroked himself slowly. “You said you were gonna fuck me.” 

“I am.” He lined the tip of his cock up with the entrance of the fake pussy and all of your protests died on your tongue when he sunk in, brows scrunched together and mouth open in a silent moan. The toy shifted inside of you, but it wasn’t enough to give you any genuine relief. You let out a strangled sob and pulled on the handcuffs— much softer than before though because of how raw your wrists had gotten. 

“You’re okay.” He cooed, making you shake your head as you cried. “Shh, princess. You can take it, can’t you? For me?” You whined, feeling conflicted. 

“Please… ‘m sorry.” You whimpered. 

“I know, baby. You’ll be okay.” He slowly dragged his cock out, then pushed back in. A strangled sob escaped your lips and he leaned down, muffling your sounds with a kiss. Once you started whining and whimpering instead of crying out and sobbing, he pulled back. 

“You’re such a good girl.” He whispered, bringing a hand up to wipe the tears from your face. His hips moved slowly, barely jostling the toy inside you. The only plus to this situation was that you weren’t empty anymore. “Took your punishment so well, baby.” 

“Jay,” Your bottom lip wobbled and he gave you a soft smile as he cupped your cheek. When you let out a choked sob, he shushed you softly. “Wanna touch you..” You whimpered, feeling more tears fall when you unsuccessfully tried to bring your hands forward again. 

“Yeah?” You nodded, biting your trembling lip. “Okay, sweetheart. Since you’re doing such a good job, you can touch me.” The second your arms were free, you wrapped them around his body, pulling him down into a hug as you buried your face in the crook of his neck. When you placed a soft kiss there, he let out a shaky breath. 

“Fuck— I’m not gonna last much longer.” He grumbled, breathing heavily against your shoulder as his hips sped up. “This is a punishment for me too, baby. It’s nowhere near as good as the real thing.” You wanted to beg him to take this out and use the real thing instead, but you could barely get any words out when he sped up even more. Your walls fluttered around the toy and you got even needier just by listening to his desperate grunts and moans as he rutted into you, chasing his orgasm. “But don’t worry, I’m still gonna give you my come.” He whispered, planting a wet kiss on the side of your neck. You moved a hand to his hair and tugged on the strands lightly as your back arched up into him. 

When he suddenly pulled up, out of your arms, you whined, but it cut off once you saw that he was pulling the toy out of you and off of his cock. He stroked himself quickly, his breathing coming in short pants until he let out a low groan, covering your sore, abused pussy in his release. He rode out his orgasm, then his hand slowed to a stop as he caught his breath. 

“C’mere, princess.” He said softly, laying down next to you and pulling you into his arms. “Can you tell me how you’re feeling?” He placed a gentle kiss on the top of your head and you snuggled into him more. 

“Needy..” You mumbled. When he laughed quietly, the corners of your lips turned up into a small smile. 

“That’s the only bad thing you’re feeling?” He asked again, and you realized now what he meant. 

“Mhm. Still just a little fuzzy.” 

“Good.” He kissed the top of your head again, then started running his fingers through your hair, making your eyes flutter closed as you let out a pleased sigh. The longer you laid here, not distracted by anything, the more your thoughts continued to race. You already felt bad for what you did, but the drop of endorphins, as well as the fact that you just finished a somewhat intense scene, only exacerbated the feeling. 

“Jay, I- I’m sorry.” You started, then cleared your sore throat and spoke a little louder. “I thought I was doing the right thing but I shouldn’t have deviated from the plan and I won’t do it again. I’m sorry for scaring you too.” If the roles were reversed and Jason didn’t follow the plan, then almost died— again— you wouldn’t let him out of your sight for weeks, maybe even months. 

“I’m sorry for yelling.” He said quietly, his own way of accepting your apology. 

“I deserved it.” You smiled. Your heart fluttered when you heard the deep rumble in his chest as he laughed quietly.  

“But hey I mean… if you ever want to go against the plan— in a way that doesn’t almost maim or kill you— I’m not saying it would lead to some pretty hot sex, but…” You giggled into his chest at his words. 

“There’s no fucking way I’m doing that shit again. The ruined orgasms and overstimulation? That was just downright cruel, Jay.” You tried to suppress your laughter and sound stern, but as soon as you heard his chuckle, your serious exterior broke. “And how on earth did you come up with the fleshlight thing?” That part, even though it was torture for you, was almost impressive honestly. 

“I don’t know… I wanted to fuck you, but I didn’t want to fuck you… if that makes any sense.” He said sheepishly. 

“Close enough.” You laughed quietly. “I’ll keep that in mind for the next time you deviate from the plan.” You said with a smirk. Riding a dildo right next to his cock would probably drive him mad and you were already creating a plan in your head for everything else you could do to him— for all of the ways you could torture him. 

Taglist (join here)

@pedrisgatorade @lunyyx @faebirdie @idkdudsworld @nashja @rentaldarling @whydoyoucare866 @zurakoisanhornysimp @brooklynscherry-z @wartofart @deimks @n1ghtw1ngslvr @harleycao @baebeepeach @jayroytodd @zurakoisanhornysimp

[stephstars08]

History

Titans!Jason Todd x Vigilante!Reader

Warnings: Adult Language, LONG INTRO, Angst, Fluff, Weapons, Injuries, Trauma, Heartbreak, Death Mentioned, Dark Themes Mentioned, Violence, Anxiety, Jealousy, Loneliness, and Possible Grammar Errors. (Sorry If I Forgot Any!)

Summary: Y/N is the daughter of Black Canary and Green Arrow. That’s how her and Jason met. They met through their parents. The two have so much history between them that is full of ups and downs.

Word Count: 2,212

Author’s Note: I’ve basically had this in my drafts unfinished all year till I finally just decided to finish it since the idea isn’t all that bad. If it’s a little confusing I apologize and the intro is basically a summary of how the reader and Jason became so close. Anyways, I hope you all enjoy it!

Y/N and Jason share a lot of history with one another. Y/N is the only daughter of Dinah Lance and and Olivier Queen who are Black Canary and Green Arrow. Y/N has the same powers her mother has which is a scream that sounds like a canary crying. However, Y/N’s scream is different. Her’s sounds more like a siren than a canary cry. That’s why when she goes out on patrol she goes by the name Siren.

Y/N is also a good and strong combat fighter. Both of her parents are good fighters but have different fight styles, so Y/N knows how to fight using both of her parents' fighting styles. And of course, she also knows how to use a bow and arrow as well.

Y/N and Jason met when her mom was helping Bruce who is Batman on a case that involved someone her mom had dealt with before and ever since that mission Y/N and Jason have grown a bond and have worked together on multiple occasions.

They joined the Titans together. Jason was excited but Y/N felt the opposite. Y/N felt like she did not fit in with a team even though everyone loved her. Jason and Dick helped her a lot with that feeling and made her feel like she belonged on the team.

Everything was going fine till Dick brought in this girl named Rose who just happened to be the daughter of Slade Wilson who is no other than the deadliest assassin, Deathstroke. When Dick let Rose stay in the tower, she butted heads with everyone especially Y/N. It was mostly because of who her father is. Deathstroke has a long history with Y/N’s parents. She knows all of the horrible things he has done.

It only got worse when Jason didn’t listen to Dick and got captured by Deathstroke. He tormented Jason. When Dick and Kory went to get him back Jason almost fell to his death till someone who looked just like Superman came to the rescue and caught him. When Jason returned to the tower Y/N knew something had changed inside of him. All he did was stay in his room which really concerned her. She would tell everyone that something was wrong, but everyone was dealing with their own shit and seemed not to care. They would just tell her he’s just still recovering from what Deathstroke put him through.

One night Y/N finally decided to take matters into her own hands and go talk to Jason. She felt like she was the only one that gave a fuck about Jason. She went to his room and went to knock on the door, but music was playing pretty loud so she just decided to just walk into the room which she immediately regretted it. She walked in to see Jason and Rose kissing. When Jason noticed her, he immediately broke the kiss. Before anyone could say anything Y/N just walked back out. After that happened Y/N couldn’t help but feel angry. She also felt jealousy boiling inside her too which did scare her. Jason is her friend, and she feels jealous about him kissing another girl. Why was she feeling jealous?

More chaos ensured after Dick confessed that he murdered Deathstroke’s son. The old Titans were the most upset. Everyone left the tower except Dick, Gar, and the guy who saved Jason were the only ones that were left. Y/N left with Donna and Rachel while Jason left with Rose which did hurt Y/N. She felt like he rather be with Rose than with her. Things didn’t end well between Rose and Jason. Turns out she was just using the team because her father wanted her to help him destroy the team. Y/N didn’t hear about the breakup till Rose reunited with the team to take down her father.

Y/N didn’t see Jason till Donna’s funeral. Donna had gotten electrocuted saving Dawn. They just shared a look and that was it. After Donna’s funeral Y/N went on her own.

She went back to Star City and started to fight crime on her own. She didn’t hear from any of the Titans till Jason became Red Hood after coming back from the dead. Dick brought Y/N back to help Jason come back to the good side which worked. After they finished Crane off and sent him back to Archam, Jason confessed his feelings for Y/N which she returned them. When she was out on her own that’s when she realized her feelings for Jason. When Jason was going through all that darkness Y/N was the one that helped him get through it and that’s when he realized he has feelings for her.

They started dating each other but sadly the relationship didn’t last very long.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Jason was at the Gotham City Police Department with Barbara in her office. He’s helping Barbara solve a case that needed help from a vigilante more than a detective. There is a villain named Cupid who has showed up in Gotham. She’s been leaving dead men in alleyways. There have already been two victims. One man was found with an arrow through his chest and the other man was found with an arrow going through his head.

Barbara asked Jason if he’s ever dealt with Cupid which he said no. “Okay then I know someone who does know Cupid.” Barbara said which made Jason let out a sigh since he knew who Barbara was talking about. “Y/N.” Jason said putting his hands into the pockets of his zipped-up jacket.

“Yes, can you go to her and ask her for some help defeating Cupid, she’s done it before.” Barbara said to him. “I don’t know about that, Babs.” Jason said with nervousness in his voice. “Jason, I get it. You two had a shitty breakup but we really need her help with this case.” Barbara told him. Jason let out another sigh because he knew Barbara was right. Plus, he would’ve crossed paths with Y/N sometime. “Okay, I’ll go stop by her apartment.” Jason told her and walked out of the office.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Jason drove his motorcycle to the apartment building he use to share with Y/N. When he walked inside the building he could feel his heart rate speed up. He felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest. He stood in front of the door that read 3C in gold. He took a deep breath to calm his pacing nerves down.

He knocked on the door and waited. A couple minutes passed and there was no answer. Jason knocked on the door again and still no answer. Jason figured Y/N wasn’t home so he turned to walk away but before he could reach the steps the door opened to reveal Y/N. When he looked at her, he saw the broken look she had in her eyes. Those were the same broken eyes he saw the night he walked out on her.

“What the fuck do you want?” Y/N hissed obviously not happy to see him outside her door. “Y/N, I’m not here to fight.” Jason told her in a stern tone. “You have no business being here, so I don’t give a fuck why you are here.” Y/N told him in a snappy tone. She went to close the door, but Jason stopped it from closing with one of his feet.

“Y/N, please. It’s important.” Jason told her. Y/N noticed the serious look in his eyes, so she knew he was telling the truth. “Fine.” Y/N said with a heavy sigh and walked away. Jason walked into the apartment and closed the door. He followed Y/N into the living room. She sat down on the chair while he sat down onto the couch.

“What’s going on?” Y/N asked him. “Barbara sent me here because we are dealing with a girl named Cupid. She’s already left two men dead in alleyways with an arrow in them.” Jason explained to her. “All I’m going to tell you is that she’s a skilled archer just like my dad.” Y/N told him and stood up.

She went to walk into the kitchen, but Jason quickly stood up and grabbed one of her arms. “That’s it?” Jason asked her. “You’re not going to help me take her down.” Jason added which made Y/N let out a heavy sigh. She pulled her arm out of his grip. “No, because that’s not who I am anymore.” Y/N told him which took him by surprise.

“You’re not Siren anymore?” Jason asked with a surprised look on his face. “Why?” He asked her. “Going out there as Siren just reminds me too much of what happened between us.” Y/N told him looking away from his gaze.

“Listen, I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Jason told her with sincere in his voice. “If that was fucking true you wouldn’t have said what you said.” Y/N told him in a snappy tone. “I didn’t fucking know saving your boyfriend from a bullet was such a wrong thing. I didn’t know saving your boyfriend would make him lash out at you and just fucking leave you all by yourself!” Y/N told him looking back at him with a glare in her eyes.

Jason heard the pain in her voice. He regrets everything he said to her that night. Everyday he wishes he could go back in time and take back every word he said to her that night.

“I-” Jason started to say but she immediately cut him off. “You need to leave, now.” Y/N told him in a stern tone. Jason knew not to argue with her, so he walked out of the apartment. At least he gave her something.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The past couple of days Jason and Barbara had been tracking Cupid. Tonight was finally the night Jason was going to attack. They thought tonight was the perfect night, but it wasn’t going as Jason planned.

Jason was in his Red Hood gear getting his ass kicked by Cupid. When Y/N said Cupid is a skilled archer she forgot to mention that Cupid was also a skilled martial arts fighter. He got thrown into one of the concrete walls. He was too worn out to get back up.

“Now.” Cupid said as she walked up to him. She had her bow in one hand and an arrow in the other. “It’s time to put you out of your fucking misery.” Cupid said aiming her arrow at Jason’s chest. Before she could shoot the arrow a siren like scream knocked Cupid down making her drop her arrow and bow. When the screaming stopped Jason looked over to see Y/N standing there in her Siren suit.

“Long time no see, Cupid.” Y/N said walking towards her. Y/N picked up Cupid’s bow. “Did you miss me?” Y/N asked with a taunting smirk. Cupid let out a growl as she got back up onto her feet. Before she could charge at Y/N, she used the bow to hit Cupid across the head. Cupid fell down onto the hard ground unconscious. “Crazy bitch.” Y/N hissed throwing the bow down onto the ground.

Y/N walked over to Jason. “Are you okay?” Y/N asked helping him up. “Nothing, but some cuts.” Jason told her.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

After the cops picked Cupid up Y/N took Jason back to her apartment to help address his cuts. She had him sitting on the couch. He had two deep cuts on his shoulder that she had to stitch up. Jason was sitting on the couch with just his pants on while Y/N sat next to him stitching up the cuts. There was a comfortable silence between the two.

“All done.” Y/N said after wrapping up his arm, so the stitches stay safe and in place. “Thanks.” Jason told her. Y/N just gave him a nod as she put all of the supplies back into the first aid kit.

“I thought you weren’t Siren anymore?” Jason asked her. Y/N let out a sigh as she closed the first aid kit that was sitting on the table. “Y/N.” Jason said in a soft voice. “I was scared that you would’ve been Cupid’s next victim.” Y/N told him without looking at him.

Jason took one of her hands into his’s which made her look at him. “Everything I said to you that night wasn’t directed at you, but it was directed at me.” Jason told her. “What?” Y/N asked in a confused tone. “When you took that bullet for me, I thought I was going to lose you.” Jason confessed as his eyes started to fill with tears. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.” Jason cried which made Y/N’s heart ache for him.

“Jason.” Y/N said putting her free hand onto one of his cheeks. She wiped away some of his tears with her thumb. She had tears streaming down her face, too. “Please take me back. I love you so much.” Jason said looking into her eyes. Y/N gave him a nod. “I love you, too.” Y/N told him.

“Want to start over?” Jason asked her. “Yes.” Y/N said with a nod. Jason leaned in and connected his lips with hers. Y/N returned the kiss. It felt so right for them to be back together, again.

[brainrotss]

NEVER LOVE AN ANCHOR. jason todd.

☆ pairing — ex boyfriend! jason todd x ex vigilante! fem reader | angst

summary ☆ In the smoky haze of a downtown nightclub, you’ve built a new life far from the rooftops and shadows of your vigilante past—a life where the glittering stage offers control, certainty, and the promise of another tomorrow. But when Jason Todd, the ex-lover who begged you to walk away from it all, shows up in the private room Bruce Wayne reserved, the fragile balance of your world begins to crack. Jason isn’t surprised by your new path—it fits your history, your love of the stage—but his frustration and lingering feelings force you both to confront the choices that tore you apart. As old wounds resurface and unspoken truths linger, you’re left questioning whether the freedom you’ve found is enough to keep the ghosts of your past at bay. wc ☆ 3k

The air in the club was thick with smoke and heat, the kind of atmosphere that clung to your skin like a second layer. It was always like this—neon lights splashing over bodies, music that seemed to bypass the ears and hammer straight into the chest. You knew the rhythms of this place as intimately as you’d once known the cold steel of a grappling hook or the weight of Kevlar pressing into your ribs.

Bruce was waiting, as he always was, in the far corner of the room. He didn’t look out of place, not exactly—men like Bruce Wayne never did—but there was a severity to him that the club couldn’t soften. He was all sharp angles and unreadable eyes, his suit too crisp for a place like this, his presence an accusation in itself.

You spotted him before he saw you, and for a moment, you hesitated, letting your gaze flick over him. No doubt he was here for his usual check-in, his thinly veiled attempt at making sure you hadn’t spiraled into something worse than this. But there was nothing worse than this, was there? At least, that’s what they’d all think.

They didn’t understand, and you had no interest in explaining.

You approached him with a slow, deliberate gait, hips swaying to the bassline, a cigarette perched between your fingers. Bruce didn’t react until you slid into his lap, resting a hand on his shoulder as if you belonged there.

“Is it time for our monthly meeting, Bruce?” you asked, voice low, words syrupy-smooth and cutting all at once.

His lips tightened, a flicker of disapproval in his eyes that you found, to your amusement, endlessly satisfying. “Not this time,” he replied.

You leaned in closer, your breath brushing his ear as you whispered, “Hopefully something pleasurable.”

He didn’t answer, just inclined his head slightly toward the back. The room he always reserved. His usual wordless command. You pushed yourself off his lap with a languid grace, flicking the cigarette into a nearby ashtray before walking away.

The private room was quieter than the rest of the club, the music muted to a faint vibration through the walls, but the tension in the air was suffocating. Jason was standing there, leaning against the far wall, his arms crossed in a way that seemed designed to stop him from punching something—or someone.

You let the door click shut behind you and leaned against it, one brow arched in a way that dared him to speak first. When he didn’t, you smirked, tilting your head.

“Funny, I thought Bruce was the one keeping tabs on me. Didn’t realize you’d taken up the hobby.”

“What the hell are you doing here?” Jason said, his voice low but steady, his eyes narrowing.

“I work here,” you replied flatly. “Or is that not obvious?”

“Don’t,” he snapped, stepping forward. “Don’t act like this is normal.”

“Who said it was normal?” you shot back, lifting an eyebrow. “Look, I’m fine, Jason. Thriving, even. I’ve got a steady job, my own place—” You stopped yourself there. He didn’t need to know about Roy. That wasn’t part of this conversation.

Jason scoffed, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “You call this thriving?”

You shrugged, your lips curling into a sharp smile. “I get paid. I know I’ll wake up tomorrow and come back. No masks, no blood, no wondering if tonight’s the night I don’t make it home. So yeah, I call this thriving. It’s not much, but it’s mine.”

“Y/N,” he said, his voice softening just enough to cut deeper, “you’re better than this.”

“Oh, spare me the bullshit, Jason,” you snapped, your voice sharp enough to pierce through his quiet concern. “I gave up the vigilante life, just like you begged me to. I got out. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“This isn’t what I wanted,” he said, stepping closer, his eyes blazing. “I didn’t want you to—” He stopped, dragging a hand through his hair, frustration etched into every line of his face. “Bruce is using you. You know that, right?”

“Bruce doesn’t use anyone who doesn’t want to be used,” you said coolly, though there was a faint flicker of something in your chest—a memory you didn’t want to revisit.

Jason laughed, short and bitter. “Yeah? And what’s he giving you in return?”

“Peace of mind,” you said simply. “Which is more than I ever had when I was running rooftops and getting shot at with you.”

That hit harder than you expected it to, his jaw tightening as his shoulders sagged slightly. For a moment, he looked almost small, and that scared you more than anything else.

“I just don’t want to see you like this,” he said quietly.

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance as you moved past him to the small bar in the corner, pouring yourself a glass of water. “Not my problem if you can’t handle it. You’re the one who showed up here, uninvited, might I add.”

“And you’re living with Roy?” he asked, his voice clipped, bitter.

The glass stopped halfway to your lips. For a moment, you didn’t react, didn’t even blink. Then, slowly, you took a sip and set the glass down, turning to face him with a smile that didn’t reach your eyes.

“What of it?” you said coolly, crossing your arms.

Jason’s expression darkened, his frustration boiling just beneath the surface. “So that’s it? You trade in the mask for… this?” He gestured vaguely as if the room itself were an accusation. “And Roy gets to swoop in and play house?”

You laughed, the sound sharp and bitter. “Oh, is that what this is about? You’re jealous?”

“I’m not jealous,” Jason snapped, his voice rising. “I’m pissed. Roy—he’s a good guy, sure, but he’s not—”

“He’s not you?” you finished, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “Well, thank God for that.”

Jason flinched, just barely, but you saw it, and for a fleeting moment, you almost regretted saying it. Almost.

“What I do and who I live with is none of your business,” you continued, your tone icy now. “You don’t get to waltz back into my life and act like you have a say. Not after—” You stopped yourself, clenching your jaw.

“Not after what?” Jason pressed, his voice softer now, but no less insistent.

You turned away, pretending to adjust the straps of your outfit, anything to avoid meeting his eyes. “Not after you begged me to give it all up,” you said finally, your voice quieter but no less sharp. “You wanted me out of the game, Jason. Out of the danger. You didn’t care what that meant for me, as long as I was safe. Well, congratulations. I’m safe. I’m alive. And if Roy’s couch is where I crash at night, so be it. At least I know I’ll wake up tomorrow and make it to work.”

Jason stared at you, his expression unreadable, his lips pressed into a thin line. “And this is what you call living?” he asked, his voice heavy with disbelief.

“It’s better than dying,” you shot back, your eyes blazing as you turned to face him again. “Better than wondering if tonight’s the night I don’t come home. Better than feeling like every step I take is just one more toward the grave. Do you think I like this? That I dreamed of spending my nights dancing for tips and dodging pitying looks from men like you? No. But at least I know I’ll survive it. Can you say the same about your life?”

Jason didn’t respond, his shoulders sagging slightly as he exhaled, his anger deflating into something closer to despair.

“I didn’t want this for you,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Well, tough,” you replied, stepping closer, your voice steady and cold. “Because this is who I am now. And if you can’t handle that, you’re welcome to leave. But don’t you dare stand here and act like you care. Not when you’re the one who pushed me into this life.”

Jason’s gaze dropped to the floor, and for a moment, he looked almost vulnerable, almost broken. But you didn’t soften. You couldn’t. Not now.

“And as for Roy,” you added, your tone cutting, “he’s got nothing to do with you. He’s there when I need him, which is more than I can say for you. So unless you’ve got something useful to say, I suggest you go back to whatever rooftop you crawled down from and leave me the hell alone.”

You didn’t wait for his response. You turned on your heel and walked out, the sound of your heels clicking against the floor echoing behind you. And for the first time in a long time, you felt a sense of certainty. This life might not have been what you wanted, but it was yours. And for now, that was enough.

The club was quieter when you stepped back onto the floor, the thrum of the bass no longer rattling through your chest. It wasn’t as late as you thought it was, but the room had already begun to empty, leaving the stragglers and the desperate to haunt the barstools. You spotted Bruce right where you’d left him, still poised like he owned the place, even if he’d never admit to frequenting it.

Jason’s presence lingered behind you like an unwelcome shadow, but you ignored it, pushing forward, your steps purposeful. Whatever that encounter had been—anger, guilt, whatever emotion he thought he could leverage to pull you back into his orbit—you weren’t going to let it shake you.

You approached Bruce with the same swaying grace you’d used earlier, though now it was sharper, more pointed. Sliding into the booth opposite him, you leaned on your elbows, your lips tugging into a dry, knowing smile.

“Was this part of the plan?” you asked, pulling a cigarette from a nearby tray, lighting it and taking a slow drag.

Bruce didn’t look at you at first, his gaze following the faint smoke trail curling above your head. “He was concerned.”

You laughed, a short, sharp bark of amusement. “Concerned? Is that what we’re calling it now? Funny how everyone’s concern only shows up when I finally find a place I fit.”

Bruce finally looked at you, his expression as unreadable as always, though there was the faintest furrow between his brows. “You think you fit here?”

“Better here than there,” you said simply, shrugging as you exhaled a cloud of smoke. “At least here, I know I’ll live to see tomorrow. That’s more than I could ever say when I was running rooftops with either of you.”

Bruce didn’t answer, and you didn’t need him to. His silence was its own kind of acknowledgment, a quiet acquiescence to your stubbornness. You sighed, leaning back and crossing your legs, the picture of defiant ease.

“See you next week, Bruce,” you said, sliding out of the booth before he could respond. “Don’t forget to reserve the room. You know how I hate to be kept waiting.”

You didn’t look back as you walked away, though you felt his eyes on you, heavy with thoughts he’d never say aloud.

The next week came quicker than you expected, the rhythm of your life falling back into its familiar patterns. Work was work, and Bruce’s presence was just another part of it, like the lights or the music. When he arrived, you didn’t hesitate, slipping into his lap as if you’d always been there, whispering teasing remarks into his ear that he didn’t bother to deflect.

What you didn’t see—what you couldn’t have known—was Jason.

He was in the shadows, just as he’d always been, a silent observer watching the two of you from a distance. He hadn’t planned to come back, but something had gnawed at him all week, something he couldn’t shake. It wasn’t just the way you’d dismissed him so easily, though that stung more than he wanted to admit. It was Bruce.

The way you laughed, low and throaty, as you leaned into Bruce, your hand trailing casually over his shoulder. The way Bruce, ever the stoic, let you. There was something there, something Jason couldn’t ignore.

And when you left the table with Bruce, disappearing into the private room without a backward glance, Jason followed.

He didn’t go in—he wasn’t that bold, not yet—but he hovered just outside, his jaw tight, his hands clenched into fists.

Inside, your laughter was muffled, but he could still hear it, along with Bruce’s low, measured tones. Whatever you were to each other—friends, allies, something more—it was clear he’d been shut out of a world you’d built without him.

And it hurt.

Jason stormed into the study at Wayne Manor that evening, his boots loud against the wooden floor. Bruce was already there, seated in his armchair, a glass of scotch in hand, his expression unreadable as always. It irritated Jason to no end—the way Bruce could remain so calm, so detached, even when everything felt like it was on fire.

"You knew I was there," Jason said, his voice low but tight, anger simmering just beneath the surface.

Bruce didn’t even flinch. He took a slow sip of his scotch, set the glass down on the table beside him, and finally looked up. "Yes."

Jason scoffed, running a hand through his hair as he began to pace. "And you’re just fine with it? Fine with her throwing herself into this… this life?"

Bruce leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers in that maddeningly composed way of his. "She’s not throwing herself into anything, Jason. She made a choice."

"A choice?" Jason turned on him, his voice rising. "This isn’t a choice, Bruce. This is—this is her settling. You’ve seen her! She’s better than this. She deserves—"

"She deserves to live her life the way she sees fit," Bruce interrupted, his voice calm but firm, cutting through Jason’s tirade like a blade. "And that’s exactly what she’s doing."

Jason stopped pacing, glaring at him. "And you’re part of that life now? You, of all people? Don’t you think it’s a little—"

"A little what, Jason?" Bruce leaned forward now, his tone sharper, his gaze pinning Jason in place. "A little inappropriate? A little manipulative? Because if that’s what you’re implying, you’re wrong."

Jason shook his head, his hands balling into fists. "You don’t get it, Bruce. She’s not thinking clearly."

"she’s thinking just fine," Bruce said evenly. "Better than fine, actually. She’s found a way to live without looking over her shoulder every night, without worrying whether she’ll wake up the next day. We can’t say the same."

Jason flinched at that, his jaw tightening. "She’s not supposed to be like this," he muttered, more to himself than to Bruce.

Bruce sighed, standing and walking over to Jason. He placed a hand on his shoulder, his grip firm but not unkind. "Jason, you left her. Whatever guilt you’re carrying about that, you need to let it go. She’s moved on. She’s found a life that works for her. You don’t have to understand it, but you do have to respect it."

Jason pulled away, shaking his head. "You don’t get it, Bruce. I—" He stopped, biting back the words he didn’t want to say.

Bruce didn’t press him. Instead, he walked back to his chair, picking up his scotch again. "She meets with me because she chooses to, Jason. I don’t force her, and I certainly don’t manipulate her. I won’t believe that you’ll discredit either of us for that."

Jason stared at him for a long moment, his chest heaving with barely contained frustration. Finally, he turned toward the door, his voice bitter as he said, "She deserves better than both of us, Bruce."

Bruce didn’t argue. Instead, he simply said, "Then maybe it’s time you trusted her to figure out what ‘better’ means for herself."

Jason paused at the doorway, his head hanging low, but he didn’t turn back. "You always have a way of making it sound like you’re right," he muttered, and with that, he was gone, leaving Bruce alone in the quiet of the study.

The door to the study swung shut behind Jason with a thud, leaving Bruce alone in the stillness. He stood there for a moment, swirling the amber liquid in his glass, watching the ripples settle. It wasn’t like Jason to retreat without having the last word—this was different. Bruce knew that tone in Jason’s voice, the frustration and the hurt he wouldn’t name.

Sinking back into his chair, Bruce took a slow sip of his scotch and allowed himself a rare moment of reflection. Jason’s words lingered, biting at the edges of his thoughts.

"She deserves better than both of us."

Jason didn’t know. He didn’t see what those meetings actually were—what they had always been.

Bruce let out a low sigh, his eyes narrowing slightly as he stared at the glass in his hand. You had chosen this life for yourself, yes, but your meetings with him were nothing like Jason imagined. There was no coercion, no strings attached, no sordid arrangements cloaked in dim lighting and shadows.

What Jason couldn’t understand—because he never asked—was that those meetings were just that: meetings.

When you slid into the booth across from Bruce or greeted him with your dry, teasing smile, it wasn’t about anything Jason would have assumed. You would talk—sometimes at length, sometimes in quiet bursts of conversation peppered with your usual biting humor. You’d ask about Wayne Enterprises, throwing in snide comments about the "corporate oligarch" sitting before you, but your questions were genuine. You wanted to know how things were going, what challenges the company faced, and how he was handling the relentless demands of his double life.

In turn, Bruce would ask about you. He’d ask about the club, your coworkers, and whether you felt safe. Sometimes, if the mood struck, he’d ask about the books he remembered you mentioned you were reading. And always, always, he’d ask about your well-being.

You never lied to him. If you were tired, you said so. If something had gone wrong at the club or with a customer, you told him. And sometimes—on rare, fleeting occasions—you’d let your guard down just enough to talk about the things that truly mattered, the things you didn’t admit to anyone else.

Jason didn’t know that the only thing exchanged in those private rooms was conversation. No physicality, no power plays—just two people finding solace in each other’s company even it’s just for an hour.

Bruce set the glass down and leaned back in his chair, his expression settling into something unreadable. Jason always assumed the worst because Jason’s mind was wired that way, a defense mechanism from years of betrayal and loss. Bruce didn’t fault him for it, but he wished, for once, Jason would ask instead of accuse.

You had made your choice to leave the vigilante life behind. And while Jason might have thought it was a fall from grace, Bruce could see it for what it really was: your way of taking control of your life, on your terms.

Jason didn’t understand yet, but maybe, with time, he would. Until then, Bruce will continue to meet with you as long as you choose to show up. Not because he needed you, but because he respected the person you’d become—a person strong enough to face the world without the mask. Something he was still unsure if he could achieve. 

He took another sip of scotch, letting the warmth spread through his chest. There would be no forcing your hand, no veiled attempts to pull you back into the life you’d left behind. You’d meet with him as long as you wanted to, and when you didn’t, he’d respect that, too.

Jason would never say it out loud, but his presence at the club last night wasn’t just about you. It was about him, about the guilt he carried for leaving, the ache of seeing someone he loved move on without him. Bruce knew that ache well—it was the same one he carried for every person who’d ever walked away from him.

The study was silent again, the only sound the faint crackle of the fire in the hearth. Bruce let his thoughts drift as he leaned back, knowing that, in the end, you would make your own choices. And he would let you—because that was the only way any of you could move forward.

[m3vl0vesu]

𝔸 𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕥𝕖𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕧𝕖 𝕣𝕖𝕕 𝕗𝕝𝕒𝕞𝕖 𝕡𝕥𝟚

Tw: Violence, suggestions of abuse, suggestions of bullying

A/N: I finally made a part two you guys!!! It was short and simple, the real stuff comes later :)

Part one>>

Your thoughts

The anxiety bubbled in your throat-or maybe that was bile- as the stench of cigars hit your nose. You followed the light smoke into the kitchen, your father seated at the table. His eyes scanned over you, narrowing as he did a double take. “You're late.” His voice was rough and hoarse, maybe he didn’t notice.

You hated that that was a good thing. “The bus was late…” Your voice was barely a whisper, you were mumbling again. “Speak up.”

“The bus was late.” The stench of cigars was stronger as you saw a cloud of smoke surround your dad, it was a sight you’ve seen for as long as you can remember. “There's a door right there, can’t you do that outside?” Nothing in your tone indicated sass, it was a genuine question. You waved your hands, even if you were used to the smell you still didn’t like it. “You can deal with it.” “And you can deal with smoking outside.”

Rude. Just rude, he stunk up the kitchen and he didn’t even bother to use an ashtray. Just a mess for me to clean up. Why even bother? Shit. “Fix your tone.” “Right, s-sorry…sorry”

He turned around, giving you permission to leave the room. It was always a surprise to see him home, and if you were being honest? You wish he never came back.

Only thing you could see were the stairs, after every step they creaked. With your head down you made it to your bedroom, the familiar site making your shoulders feel heavier. You tried your best to close your door without a slam, and it was hard. Your fists needed to hit something, someone. And you hated it, but violence is just how your family does it. Violence

.

. Monday 4:59 Jason Todd (Third person)

.

Violent. Unstable.

Bruce's words echoed in his mind, sure the old man was probably just  trying to get him back ‘home’ ,but to Jason? It just seemed like another way to cage him. Jason was an adult now, he learnt how to do adult things. And he did that alone. He could take care of himself, sure he forgets to clean his wounds sometimes…and he might be getting evicted-but still!

With a grunt, he fell onto the worn-out couch he owned. The familiarity of it made the tenseness in his shoulders decrease a little. It was a bad day. One thing on his mind was that kid, why were they all busted up? A small chuckle left his lips when he remembered what they said ‘You’re not a wall??’ they sounded…funny.

Plus it was pretty dangerous for a kid to just be out and about in Gotham streets. The kid would be fine right? 

They didn’t seem weak but…but…

But why do I care?

With a sigh he fell asleep. If he can’t do it at night, he might as well sleep the day away.

.

.Tuesday 1:30 (Second Person)

.

It felt like the walls were closing in on you, the rush of people getting to class. You hated it, the overlapping sounds of their footsteps and their mindless chatter. You could feel their sides as they passed by you, a few hands here and there, your head still hurt. 

Two more hours of this bullshit. This wasn’t going to work, you needed to skip. But you couldn’t afford another detention, literally. 

They threatened to expel you, your wrist still hurts from that night.

Your nerves were on fire, nothing could calm you down. Definitely not whatever useless subject you had next. Science was it? It was time to use the sick or injured card. 

You had enough bruises and it worked last time, but that meant entering the classroom, raising your hand, people having their eyes on you as you asked to go to the nurse.

Ah

They implied that new rule, the one where your parents would have to pick you up. Of-fucking-course! 

Your life was as shitty as ever, and that damned limp had barely gotten better. At least the swelling on your ankle stopped. It had been like that for a week, it was probably a good idea to go to the nurse for that but why bother, then she’d tell your parents. And no-one needs that. 

Even though something at the back of your mind desperately wanted them to notice. While deep in though someone bumped into y-

“Ah. Sorry about that.” The words held no real apology but at least he had the decency to apologise. “No it’s alrigh-” holy f-it was the Wayne kid. “...t. I-It’s fine”

You didn’t really know why but he always creeped you out, it was odd. I mean it was always odd seeing a proper Gotham elite not have some vendetta against you but that wasn’t it. He had a particular distance from everyone, and his guard was always up. All he did was sit and watch, he read people well. Just like you did…maybe that was it. The thought of someone knowing how you felt irked you, it just wasn’t what you're used to. He looked down at the floor, maybe your ankle, and walked off. Leaving you with a small chill down your spine. Guess you had to get to Science, he was in your class anyway. Couldn't risk it, he might be a snitch. He did look like one.

.

.3:19

.

School was closed early after a villain was spotted nearby, which was odd they never really came this close to the school during the day. If there was a villain spotted nearby that meant-

ShitThe buses weren’t coming. Even if you tried calling your Dad he would say he’s at ‘work’ or ‘too busy’ and Mom was too ill to drive, that asshole probably took the car as well.

Guess that meant walking, you dreaded any time you had to walk. It was usually long and unbearable, going from the relatively clean streets to the graffiti-filled alleyways near where you lived. 

The penthouses would turn into small apartment buildings, just further proof just how big the gap was from the privileged to the others.

When you had to walk you usually kept some sort of weapon on you. Everyone did. Didn’t mean it wasn’t going to suck.

.

The dozens of kids slowly turned into three or five going the same way you were. Some behind and some in front, your old headphones blasting whatever emotional music you were listening to. When you turned the corner you saw him, them. 

Instinctively your hands balled up into fists, they were laughing. A laugh that bounced around in your mind, you pray that they don’t fucking notice you-

…

Well never mind then.

“Look who we have here…” The boy had a mop of brown curly hair and a freckled face, he was a few inches shorter than you. It always made you chuckle, but today you just walked away, that's when you felt the collar of your shirt being pulled from behind. Do these dipshits get off on your torture or something? “Hey-” Your reflexes were fast, too fast. Your elbow hit his jaw, fuck you hit him too hard. When you turned around, almost falling he almost pounced on you. Almost. He was grabbed by his collar, like a small kitten would be grabbed by their mother. You stepped back, looking up at the mans face…he seemed familiar.

.

.

.

“Why don’t you pick on someone your own size? I saw a squirrel nearby, maybe that would do.”

[ravenna-reid]

Pretty Pretty Eyes

JASONTODD x FEM!VIGILANTE!READER

Summary - Jason had seen you around for months now but never managed to get to talk to you for more than a few seconds. Telling himself he had to investigate what the hell you were doing for Gotham's safety (yep, ok Jason) he makes a plan to stop you from disappearing one night. (Part of the scene inspired by the image in the middle) Enjoy!!

Warnings - Swearing and some violence, maybe like one suggestive line

Jason didn’t know why he felt this way, but he was intrigued by your reactions to everything. Or more accurately, your lack of. He was used to others narrowing their eyes at him, cussing him out, or even trying to throw a punch whenever he said something out of line. But that never happened with you. He was lucky to even get a puzzled frown and “Mm” from you. Then after that, you would disappear before he could even ask you any questions. 

Slick as a whistle and as silent as a ghost. You seemed to always be where trouble followed, and when Jason got to the scene, you weren’t exactly helping the bad guys, but you weren’t exactly stopping them either. Were you a villain? A threat? Were you an ally? He didn’t know, because no matter how hard Jason tried, he could never find a trace on you either. And he’d be damned if he asked Bruce or Dick for help. It ate away at him if he was being honest. 

However, tonight would be the night Jason would finally get his answers. Because he’d found you where he’d least expected to find you. On the top floor of a large building that displayed and sold art. What were you doing? He had no idea. All he knew was that he had to get you this time. 

Once you’d heard his “subtle” footsteps and caught the gleam of his helmet from the corner of the room, you were on the move. Your speciality was slipping away unnoticed, and it worked every time. But Jason came prepared. Gun already raised, he shot something he’d spent weeks making in the Batcave, much to Bruce’s curiosity. A small, vibrant thing shot across the room like lightning and hit you right in the back. You stumbled, then quickly stopped to look behind you. You didn’t feel the agonising pain that came from a bullet wound. And when you looked down, you just couldn’t believe what you were seeing. Bright, neon yellow dust all over the back of your shirt. Now you had no chance of disappearing into the shadows. This man was actually ridiculous. But it was all he had since he’d run out of trackers. Much to your dismay, all you could do was shake your head at the situation and sprint. 

As you threw the door closest to you open, you ran across the roof of the tall building. The cool breeze whipped against your skin. It ran through your hair as you leapt over ladders maintenance men had left behind and roof turbines. Jason followed close behind. And as he grew closer, he grabbed small metal gadgets with his gloved hand from his belt and threw them. Small explosions went off as they hit the ground, releasing thick smoke in front of you. You went to run to the side until you realised you were at the edge. Fuck.

Jason’s arm grabbed at your waist as he tried to pull you back, but you smacked him with your elbow. Using the momentum and grabbing hold of one of his arms, you then swung around behind him and swiftly uncurled the rope that was attached to your belt. Wrapping it around his legs caught Jason off guard given how quickly you moved, and soon Jason dropped down on one knee. You moved the rope up from his leg to around his neck and pulled back. But he managed to escape, grabbing the rope from your grip and tossing it off the building. Once Jason turned to you he paused, breath heavy, and waited for you to give up. Waited for you to realise he just wanted to talk. But you weren’t one to pause during a fight. “Now listen.” He said, hands raised. 

Using a manoeuvre you learnt in Krav Maga many moons ago, you swiftly got the Red Hood on his back, and he had hit the ground like a tonne of bricks. Whilst he was down, you slipped one of your favourite daggers into the palm of your hand and closed the space between you two. Pinning one of his freakishly large arms down with your knee, you now had the dagger at his throat. Jason instantly came to a halt as the cool blade sat comfortably on his skin. A single jarring movement would draw blood, and all he could do was look up at you through his helmet. Both of your chests rose and fell with heavy breaths. The black mask he always saw you in covered your nose down to your chin, but Jason could see that focused glint pass through your eyes.

First the rope, now a blade at his throat?

“You have a thing for necks, huh?” He joked.

You ignored what he’d said. Like always. 

Really, you were just trying to ignore the soft, musky scent that made its way to your nose…

The night went on around you as you tightened your hold on Jason. Being pinned to the ground so easily made him feel overwhelmingly agitated. Pissed off.

Impressed?

Leaning over him - both of your masked faces so close - you were about to say something (scold the living shit out of him) until you heard a click. 

Your head instinctively looked down. Given you had one of his arms pinned, you didn’t think of the other one, hoping the knife to the throat and him being beneath you would be enough to restrain the Red Hood. But now as you looked down to where the sound came from, you saw one of Jason’s loaded glocks, the cool steel gently pressed against the skin on your waist. Your body stilled as a simmering anger washed over you. What a compromising position. 

“And you were so close to getting away, weren’t you?” Jason murmured, a hidden smirk plastered across his face.

You dragged your eyes back to him, and although your mask was covering half of your face he could still see the  foul expression you were giving him. Hell, it was as though he could feel it.

“Why won’t you just give up?” You asked, voice muffled.

Jason was stunned. It was the first time he’d heard your voice. It was warm. Smooth. So…

What the hell was he thinking?

“It’s my job to make sure this city is safe, Princess. Gotta keep track of those that are running around in masks –”

“What? You think I’m some bastard who’s conspiring with drug lords or something?” You asked cooly. 

“If you’re not guilty, why do you keep running away?”

“Why do you care?” 

Jason could feel your muscles tensen. The dagger that still sat at his throat shifted closer. He quickly reminded you of the gun that was still pointed to your waist. 

“Easy now.” The words fell from his lips as though they were a lull. 

Silence settled over you both as you stared at each other. A faint beating thrummed in your heart. Jason’s blood was rushing. You leant down even closer, and Jason swore he could feel your breath on his skin.

“You ruined my shirt.” 

He smiled.

“Well, I guess I’m going to have to make it up to you, aren’t I? Once you tell me who you are.”

You cocked your head to the side. “Mm.”

Then, as you moved your arm back so that your elbow could knock the black cylinder from your opened pouch, the canister dropped to the floor and rolled over beside Jason’s head before exploding. Quickly dragging your body off of him, you slipped your dagger back in its place and leapt down onto a balcony beside the building you were on. As you fled the scene, your head reeled from the events of the night. 

So much for a ruthless vigilante you thought to yourself, a warm smile forcing its way onto your face.

Getting to his feet and wiping the soot like substance from his helmet, he searched for you across the rooftop. But he knew better. You were nowhere to be found. A defeated sigh left Jason as his shoulders dropped, but even with his loss, all Jason could think about were your eyes. Those pretty pretty eyes.

“Until next time.” 

[rogueshadow1124]

REMEMBER ME

[Jason Todd x reader]

Summary: on one of his nightly patrols he comes to sit on a rooftop where he flicks through memories of himself and Y/N, his love who was gone. Or was she?

Word count: 2830

Warnings: swearing.

Gotham was a dangerous city. Everybody knew that. It was dull, rundown, and full of rambunctious bandits, rogues, lowlifes—criminals. The worst of the worst lived in Gotham, and not a night went by where there would be peace. Arkham Asylum was where most criminals were sent—the really bad ones, the ones whose evil ran so deep that they put others in danger for their own twisted fun and games.

Above the city, on the ledge of a towering building, sat a broad-built figure, cloaked in the dim glow of Gotham’s failing streetlights. His head hung low, shoulders slumped as if the weight of the world pressed down on them. In his hands, he held a red metallic faceplate, the familiar mask that had become his symbol. Candy apple-colored eyes, once sharp and intense, now appeared sore and rimmed with a ring of red that circled his waterline. A single tear slipped free, landing on the metal mask with a soft, muted thud. He swiped at it absently, his gloved hand dragging beneath his nose as a quiet sniffle broke the silence.

This was Red Hood—the infamous antihero who once ruled Crime Alley and had now begun to roam the streets of Gotham. His armor, designed to withstand the worst Gotham could throw at him, could not protect him from the storm that raged inside. Beneath the mask, the armor, the hardened persona, was Jason Todd—just a young man, broken, in pain, and utterly lost without the comfort he once had.

A comfort that had been torn away from him.

In the stillness, fragments of the past flooded his mind, scenes that he replayed more often than he'd ever admit. The memories came swiftly, cutting through the cold Gotham night like a knife.

“Jason?!” Her voice echoed through his mind first. Soft but clear, like a bell in the fog. He could still picture her walking through the small apartment, her hair tumbling over her shoulders, the way her eyes—those brilliant Y/E/C eyes—would light up whenever she saw him. The creak of the door, the soft thud of her footsteps on the floor, and then her calling out again, more playful this time. “Baby?”

He could see it so vividly—the way he had turned toward her, his lips quirking up into that half-smile she loved. “Y/N/N,” he had replied, his voice warm despite the exhaustion that clung to him.

The duffel bag she carried slipped from her shoulder, landing on the floor with an audible thud, but her attention was entirely on him. He remembered her gaze as it swept over him, lingering on his slouched posture, one arm draped lazily along the back of the couch while the other rested on his thigh, just above his knee. He’d been trying to look casual, like he hadn’t been missing her all day, but she could always see through him.

Without a word, her legs had carried her over to him. She stopped right in front of him, her bright eyes soft with affection. Jason had reached out, patting his thigh in invitation, and she had smiled, the kind of smile that made everything else fade away.

“Oh, Jaybird…” she had whispered as she climbed into his lap, her body draping across him almost horizontally. His arms had wrapped around her immediately, pulling her in as if he could keep her safe just by holding her close. He had kissed her forehead, once, twice, and then again, a smirk dancing on his lips. “I missed you.”

Her laughter had filled the room, light and melodic. “I think I missed you more, babygirl,” he had murmured, his voice low and full of that teasing affection she loved. His hand had cradled the back of her head, pressing her against his chest, and she had giggled, the sound vibrating against him. Times like that were the best, the moments when they didn’t have to hold their guard up, when they didn’t have to be vigilantes or fighters or survivors. They could just be Jason and Y/N.

He could still feel the warmth of her body against his, the way she fit so perfectly in his arms, as if the universe had designed them that way. She had been his solace, his peace in a world that was anything but.

But nothing in Gotham lasted forever, and happiness was the most fleeting thing of all.

Jason’s mind drifted back to the night they met. Y/N had been a rogue back then, laying low, doing her own thing. He’d caught wind of her while on patrol in his Red Hood gear. A newcomer stirring things up, not quite a villain but not exactly a hero either. She had intrigued him, the way she moved through Gotham’s underworld with purpose and precision. He hadn’t expected her to fight back when he finally confronted her.

But she had.

That punch had shattered more than just his mask—it had shattered his assumptions about her. One solid hit had cracked a piece of his faceplate, revealing one of his eyes beneath. For a split second, their gazes had locked—his sharp jade eyes meeting hers. The moment had stunned them both. He had felt it then, that electric pull, the raw attraction that surged through him like nothing he had ever experienced. And from that moment on, she had been in his head, under his skin.

And now, she was gone.

His chest tightened as the weight of reality settled back in. Y/N was gone. He had lost her in the cruelest way imaginable, ripped away before he had a chance to say goodbye, before he could protect her one last time.

The memories, once so vibrant, began to blur, and he was left with only the dull ache that accompanied her absence.

A faint sound behind him stirred him from his thoughts—quick, sharp footsteps slicing through the quiet. Instinctively, Jason tensed, his body reacting before his mind fully caught up. Someone was there.

Jason’s senses flared the moment the figure lunged at him, a blur of black against the dark skyline. Their impact hit like a freight train, the force of it driving the air from his lungs as they tumbled across the rooftop. His back slammed against the gritty surface, pain rippling through his ribs, but his instincts kicked in before his mind had time to process the shock. He raised his arms just in time to block a swift elbow aimed at his jaw.

The figure’s movements were sharp, surgical—no wasted motion, every strike aimed to disable or incapacitate. Jason’s muscles strained as he parried a rapid series of blows, his forearms absorbing the brunt of punches that felt like they were thrown by someone who knew his every move. He countered with a knee strike, but they twisted out of the way, fluid and fast, turning his own momentum against him. His balance faltered for a split second, enough time for his attacker to hook a leg around his and sweep him to the ground again.

“Damn it!” he growled, rolling with the fall, instinctively flipping back to his feet. His breath came in shallow bursts, his heart hammering in his chest. This wasn’t just some thug. This person—whoever they were—was fighting with the same ruthlessness, the same precision he used. Every move they made felt familiar, as if he was battling his own reflection.

Jason charged, closing the distance between them with a flurry of punches and a swift roundhouse kick, but the figure met him blow for blow, deflecting each strike with an eerie familiarity. A vicious jab to his ribs sent pain shooting through his side, but he didn’t slow down. He couldn't afford to.

They clashed again, their movements a deadly dance of speed and skill. The rooftop echoed with the sharp crack of fists and the scrape of boots against concrete. Jason grabbed his attacker's wrist, yanking them off balance, but the figure twisted with practiced ease, using his grip to pull him into a brutal headbutt. Stars exploded in his vision, and he stumbled back, shaking his head to clear the haze.

This was wrong. All of it was wrong. How could they fight like this? Like him?

He circled warily, his breath ragged, eyes scanning for any opening. The figure mirrored his movements, calm, calculated, as if anticipating his next move. And that’s when he saw it—a glint of something small and metallic, just beneath the collar of their shirt, briefly visible as they adjusted their stance.

A heart-shaped necklace, swaying slightly as they moved.

Jason’s focus sharpened, his eyes narrowing on the piece of jewelry. His next strike was deliberate, forcing the figure back just enough for him to see the necklace more clearly—a silver heart with an engraving, the letter J catching the dim light. His breath hitched, the world slowing around him as the truth slammed into him with a force more powerful than any punch.

His heart stopped.

No. It couldn’t be. But that necklace—he knew that necklace.

Time seemed to freeze as the figure stepped back, tilting their head ever so slightly, as if sensing his hesitation. Jason’s fists trembled, uncertainty flooding his veins. His mind raced back to years ago, back to a girl who wore that very necklace—a girl he thought he’d never see again.

“Y/N?” he whispered, the name escaping his lips before he could stop it.

The figure paused, their body still as stone. For a brief second, the chaos of the fight ebbed, and Jason saw it. In the way they held themselves, the way they moved—it wasn’t just the fighting style that was familiar. It was her.

“Y/N!” he called out, louder now, his voice cracking with equal parts disbelief and hope.

The figure straightened, and with a slow, deliberate motion, reached up to the edge of their mask. Jason’s breath caught in his throat as gloved fingers peeled away the black mask, revealing a face he thought had been lost to time.

Her eyes met his, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. Her expression was cold, hardened by the years, but the necklace, swinging gently against her chest, told the story neither of them needed to say.

It was her. Y/N.

Jason’s world tilted on its axis, the rooftop suddenly feeling too small, the night too quiet. The woman he once knew—the woman he once loved—was standing in front of him, and now, she was a weapon pointed right at him.

He could see the hesitation in her posture now. The rigid tension in her shoulders had loosened, her fists no longer clenched for another round. Her breathing was heavy, but not from exertion—no, this was something else. Confusion, maybe. Doubt.

“Who the fuck is Y/N?” she snapped, her voice colder than he’d ever heard it, a sharp edge to her tone. Her gaze pierced through him like she was demanding answers to questions she didn’t even know how to ask. But behind that, something flickered—a hesitation, a crack in her hardened exterior. It was subtle, but Jason caught it, and it twisted the knife in his chest even deeper.

“You are,” Jason said, his voice raw, barely keeping steady. He took a cautious step toward her, his hands lowered, palms facing her as if he were trying to calm a wild animal. “Y/N, it’s me. Jason.”

Her eyes narrowed, and for a second, something sparked behind them—something familiar. But just as quickly, it vanished, replaced by a cold, distant stare. She shook her head, taking a step back as if his words were dangerous.

“I don’t know who the hell you think I am,” she muttered, her tone biting, “but I’m not her.”

The words were like a punch to his gut. Jason’s heart pounded in his chest as a mix of anger and desperation flared within him. How could she not remember? How could she forget everything they went through? He clenched his fists, trying to steady his breath, his mind racing for a way to break through to her.

“You don’t remember me?” Jason asked, his voice softer now, almost pleading. He stepped closer again, his eyes searching her face for any sign, any flicker of recognition. “You don’t remember us?”

She stared at him, her jaw clenched, her eyes flicking over him like she was trying to figure him out. For a moment, her gaze lingered on the way he stood, the subtle shift in his weight, the way he held himself. There was something there, buried deep within her, something that made her hesitate.

“No,” she finally said, but her voice wavered ever so slightly. “I don’t... I don’t know you.”

Jason’s heart broke a little more with each word, but he couldn’t stop now. He had to make her remember, had to find a way to bring her back. He took a deep breath, letting the emotions flood through him as he spoke.

“You’re Y/N.” His voice was steady now, filled with quiet determination. “We fought together. We survived together. You’re the one who kept me going when I thought everything was lost. We—” He swallowed hard, his throat tightening. “We loved each other, Y/N.”

Her eyes flickered again, this time more noticeably. She looked away for a split second, as if trying to push something away, something clawing at the edges of her mind.

Jason’s heart pounded harder. There was a crack, a small one, but it was there. He could feel it. She wasn’t fighting him anymore—not like she was before. She couldn’t hurt him.

“Why... Why can’t I...” Her voice trailed off, her hand going to her temple, fingers pressing against her head like she was trying to force herself to remember, or maybe trying not to.

Jason moved in closer, his voice soft but filled with urgency. “It’s in there, Y/N. You can feel it, can’t you? There’s a part of you that knows I’m telling the truth. You don’t want to hurt me. I can see it. I can feel it.”

She looked at him again, her lips parting slightly, confusion swirling in her expression. Her hands trembled for a brief second before she clenched them into fists, shaking her head like she was trying to shake off the weight of his words.

“I... I don’t know you!” she insisted, but her voice was weaker now, cracking under the pressure of something she couldn’t explain. “I don’t know anything!”

Jason’s chest tightened at the sound of her breaking down, and for a brief moment, he saw the girl he once knew—the girl beneath the armor and confusion. He couldn’t let her slip away. Not again.

In a bold move, he stepped even closer, closing the distance between them until he was right in front of her. His hand hovered near her cheek, hesitating for only a second before he gently placed it against her skin. She flinched but didn’t pull away. Her eyes snapped to his, wide and searching.

“Y/N,” he whispered, his thumb brushing against her cheek in a touch so familiar it almost hurt him. “You used to hate it when I’d call you that when you were mad. You’d roll your eyes and make that face like you were too good for me. But you’d laugh. You always laughed.”

Her breath hitched, her lips parting as if to speak, but no words came out. Her eyes softened for just a heartbeat, her gaze trapped in his.

“Jason...” she whispered, barely audible, her voice shaking.

He froze, his heart thudding in his chest. She said his name. He saw it, felt it—a spark. But then, just as quickly as it came, her eyes darkened again, a shadow falling over her face. She jerked away from him, stepping back as if she’d been burned.

“No,” she muttered, her voice panicked now. “No. I can’t... I can’t be her.”

Jason’s hand dropped to his side, the moment slipping away, but he didn’t give up. He couldn’t. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to stay calm, to keep reaching out to her. “You are her, Y/N. You can fight it, but you know deep down, you’re her. You just have to remember.”

She shook her head violently, turning away from him, her hands trembling as she clutched her head. “I don’t know who I am! I don’t know who you are! Leave me alone!”

But Jason wouldn’t let her run. He stepped forward, his voice firm but gentle. “I won’t. I won’t leave you. Not again. Not like this.”

For a long moment, she didn’t move, her back still to him, her breathing ragged. Jason stayed there, waiting, hoping. He knew this fight wasn’t over—not with her.

[clangrogu]

DC x Reader Fic Recs

It Got Worse by @hannibals-favourite-meal (Clark Kent x Reader, F!Reader, Wayne!Reader, SFW, Pregnancy, Bruce is overprotective)

Office Crushes by @hannibals-favourite-meal (Clark Kent x Reader, SFW, A/B/O Dynamics, Omega!Reader, Plus size!Reader, Slight angst, Protective!Clark)

Playground Chaos by @kimberly-spirits13 (Jason Todd x Reader, GN!Reader, SFW)

At the Stitches by @kimberly-spirits13 (Jason Todd x Reader, Black Widow!Reader, F!Reader, SFW, Reader has magic)

To the Paparazzi by @innerwomen (Bruce Wayne x Reader, F!Reader, Batmom!Reader, Husband!Bruce Wayne, SFW, Slight angst, Body shaming, Mild swearing, COVID-19 mentions)

Keep the Doors Locked by @hannibals-favourite-meal (Bruce Wayne x Reader, Batmom!Reader, Batboys x Batmom!Reader F!Reader, NSFW, Smut, Getting walked in on, Bi!reader mention)

Just a Couple More Minutes by @innerwomen (Bruce Wayne x Reader, Batboys x Batmom!Reader, F!Reader, Batmom!Reader, Husband!Bruce Wayne, SFW, Slightly Suggestive)

Illegal by @hannibals-favourite-meal (Batmom!Reader, Damian Wayne x Batmom!Reader, Bruce Wayne x Reader, F!Reader, SFW, Implication of smut, Puberty mentions)

What Is A Mother, But The Woman Who Loves Us Most? by @ragingbookdragon (Batmom!Reader, Batboys x Batmom!Reader, Bruce Wayne x Reader, F!Reader, SFW, Angst, Hurt/Comfort)

I Have Too Many Children by @ragingbookdragon (Batmom!Reader, Batboys x Batmom!Reader, Bruce Wayne x Reader, F!Reader, SFW, Implications of sex)

I’ve Finally Found Something For My Shelf by @ragingbookdragon (Batmom!Reader, Batboys x Batmom!Reader, Bruce Wayne x Reader, F!Reader, SFW)

"You're the best thing that has ever happened to me" by @allysunny (Bruce Wayne x Reader, F!Reader, SFW, Pregnancy, Bale!Bruce Wayne)

A New Beginning by @hannibals-favourite-meal (Bruce Wayne x Reader, Plus size!Reader, F!Reader, SFW)

Slumber Party by @bippot (Adrian Chase x Reader, F!Reader, SFW, Reader is kidnapped and kinda traumatised, Canon typical violence, Minor injuries)

Now or Never by @whirlybirbs (Adrian Chase x Reader, F!Reader, SFW, Mild depiction of injuries, Reader is a retired hero)

[librababe99]

Vigilante's Lullaby |Part Three|

cw: MDNI, 18+, Jason Todd, Gender Neutral Reader, angst, melancholy, light smut, hurt no comfort, slow burn word count: 2.9K

Summary: In the dead of night, Jason slips into your apartment, seeking solace in the only place that gives him peace—your arms. With each visit, the line between passion and desperation blurs, as both of you cling to the fleeting moments where the world and its darkness fade away. How long can love survive when both of you are standing on the edge of oblivion?

A/N: While I love angst and slow burn, I felt that adding a bit of love between the two could brighten things up. Even if it's just temporary...we're only preventing the inevitable. Also feel free to comment, like and reblog!

(Part One) (Part Two) (DC Masterlist)  (Part Four)

The first time Jason had slipped into your apartment, it was out of necessity—another injury that needed tending, another mission that had gone sideways. At first, he’d only come for the quiet safety of your place, the familiar comfort of your hands mending him in the dead of night. But that was months ago.

Somewhere along the way, the visits changed. They grew more frequent, and you started noticing he didn’t always arrive with fresh bruises or bandaged cuts. He began to come without a word, slipping in through your window and climbing into your bed as if he belonged there. The injuries weren’t the only wounds he needed healing.

Tonight was no different.

The soft click of the window opening barely registered in your sleep. Jason’s familiar presence melted into the room, his shadow crossing the threshold and approaching the bed with a quiet urgency. The slight creak of the floorboards barely stirred you, but there was no mistaking the tension that came with him—the kind of heaviness that clung to his every movement, even when he was trying to be gentle.

You stirred, opening your eyes to the familiar sight of him standing there, tall and brooding. His gaze met yours in the faint light from the street, his expression dark, unreadable. For a moment, neither of you spoke. You didn’t need to.

Jason’s eyes flickered, and he crossed the room in a few swift steps, dropping his weight onto the mattress beside you. His shoulders, always tight with barely restrained tension, softened slightly as your body shifted closer to his. Without a word, he slid under the blankets, his arm wrapping around your waist, pulling you against him like he was holding on for dear life.

You could feel the tremor in his breath as he pressed his face into the crook of your neck. It wasn’t the first time he had sought refuge in your arms, but tonight there was something more—something rawer, more desperate than usual. His fingers dug into your hip, his touch heavier, more insistent than the nights before.

His body heat seeped into you as his lips brushed against your skin, barely a whisper. But even that faint touch sent shivers down your spine, igniting something deep inside you that had been lingering beneath the surface for far too long. The tension between you was always there, simmering just below the surface, waiting to spill over.

And tonight, it felt like that dam was about to break.

“Rough night?” you asked softly, though you already knew the answer. It was always a rough night for Jason.

His only response was a low hum, his breath ghosting over your neck as his hand moved from your waist to your back, tracing slow, deliberate patterns against your skin. His touch was both gentle and possessive, his fingers pressing into you like he was trying to memorize every inch of you.

He didn’t come to talk. He never did, not really. There was a comfort in the silence, in the way he could lose himself in you without having to explain. It was a fragile intimacy, one that both of you clung to in the quiet moments, where the outside world ceased to exist, if only for a few precious hours.

Without a word, you turned in his arms, your hands sliding up his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath beneath your palms. His heart pounded against your touch, a quiet reminder of everything he tried to bury beneath the surface. You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his in the darkness, and the weight of unspoken things hung between you.

You pressed a hand to his cheek, your thumb brushing over the faint bruise beneath his eye. “You’re here,” you whispered, a statement more than a question.

Jason’s gaze softened for a brief moment, his hand covering yours as he leaned into your touch. “Yeah,” he rasped, his voice low and rough. “I’m here.”

It was the only reassurance you needed. For tonight, he was with you. For tonight, you could forget about the darkness waiting for him outside those walls.

But it was never enough. Not for Jason.

His lips found yours before you could say another word, the kiss urgent, almost frantic. There was nothing gentle about it—his mouth moved against yours with a raw intensity, like he was trying to pour everything he couldn’t say into that one act. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer, and you could feel the desperation in his touch, in the way his fingers dug into your skin as if he was afraid you might slip away from him.

You responded in kind, your arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him down to you. The kiss deepened, and Jason’s hands were everywhere—roaming over your body with a hunger that left you breathless. His touch was rough, unrestrained, and you could feel the heat radiating from him as his body pressed against yours.

You gasped against his mouth as his lips trailed down your jaw, leaving a trail of burning kisses in their wake. His teeth grazed the sensitive skin of your neck, eliciting a soft moan from you, and his hands slid up your thighs, gripping you firmly as if he was anchoring himself to you. Every touch, every kiss, felt like a lifeline—like he was grounding himself in the feel of your body beneath his.

"Jason," you breathed, your voice catching as his hand slid beneath your shirt, the rough pads of his fingers trailing over your bare skin. His touch sent a shiver down your spine, and your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer.

He groaned softly against your neck, his breath hot and heavy as his hand moved higher, his fingers brushing against the curve of your breast. The weight of his body against yours, the feel of his hands exploring every inch of you, made it hard to think, hard to breathe. All you could do was feel.

Jason’s lips returned to yours, his kiss demanding, possessive. His tongue parted your lips, sliding against yours with a kind of hunger that bordered on desperation. You could taste the salt of sweat on his skin, the faint metallic tang of blood, and something deeper—something that was purely Jason. It was intoxicating, overwhelming, and you found yourself arching against him, your hands roaming over the broad planes of his chest, feeling the muscle beneath his skin.

He pulled away just long enough to yank your shirt over your head, his breath ragged as he took you in, his gaze dark and burning with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. His hands moved to your hips, sliding down to your thighs as he pressed you into the mattress, his body hovering over yours. There was a fire in his eyes that you hadn’t seen before—something raw and untamed.

Without a word, Jason’s lips were on you again, trailing down your chest, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he kissed his way down your stomach. Your breath hitched, your fingers clutching the sheets as his mouth moved lower, the heat of his breath sending shockwaves through your body. Every kiss, every touch, was electric, and you felt yourself losing control, the tension building inside you until it was almost unbearable.

Jason’s hands slid beneath the waistband of your pants, and he tugged them down in one swift motion, his eyes dark and predatory as he looked up at you. There was no hesitation, no second-guessing. He wanted you, needed you, and you could feel it in every touch, every kiss. His mouth descended on you again, and you gasped, your body arching as his lips found your most sensitive spot.

The world outside ceased to exist. There was only Jason—his touch, his lips, the feel of him against you, inside you. The rest of the night passed in a blur of tangled sheets and whispered breaths, the two of you losing yourselves in each other over and over again.

And when it was over, when the darkness finally crept back in, Jason held you close, his arms wrapped tightly around you as if he could keep the world at bay for just a little longer.

For tonight, he was yours.

But deep down, you both knew that the darkness was waiting. Waiting to pull him away, waiting to swallow him whole.

The silence after felt fragile, as if the peace between you could shatter with the slightest noise. Jason’s arm was draped over you, heavy and protective, as you lay together in the tangled mess of sheets and shared breath. His chest rose and fell steadily beneath your cheek, the rhythmic thud of his heartbeat a soothing reminder that, for now, he was still here—still yours, even if only for this fleeting moment.

You ran your fingers lightly over his chest, tracing the faint scars that marked his skin. Each one told a story—of battles fought, of dangers faced, of a man who carried the weight of too many ghosts on his shoulders. You wanted to ask him about them, to understand the parts of Jason that he kept buried deep within, but you knew better. He rarely spoke about the past, about the things that haunted him. Instead, he carried it with him like a second skin, something you could only glimpse in moments like this, when the walls between you were down.

He shifted slightly, his arm tightening around you as if sensing your thoughts. Jason’s lips brushed against your temple, a soft, almost absent-minded gesture that made your heart ache. There was a tenderness in the way he held you now, a stark contrast to the desperation that had consumed you both earlier.

“I wish I could stay like this,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, but the words hung heavy in the air.

You lifted your head, meeting his gaze. His eyes were half-lidded, dark and tired, but there was something else there too—something vulnerable that he rarely let anyone see. His fingers brushed a stray strand of hair from your face, lingering on your cheek as he studied you, as if trying to memorize every detail.

“You don’t have to go,” you whispered, though you knew that wasn’t true. Jason always had to go. The darkness outside was calling him, pulling him back into a world that you couldn’t follow.

He let out a soft, bitter laugh, his hand dropping back to your waist. “You know I can’t stay,” he said quietly, his voice tinged with regret. “I’m not built for this.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, wanting to argue, to tell him that he was wrong—that he deserved this, that he deserved peace, happiness. But the words wouldn’t come. Deep down, you knew he believed that leaving was the only way to protect you. Jason had spent so long living in the shadows, wrapped in violence and vengeance, that he couldn’t imagine a life without it.

You wanted to tell him you didn’t care about the danger, that you were willing to take the risk to be with him. But the truth was, Jason was a storm—wild, uncontrollable, and destined to burn out. And no matter how much you loved him, you couldn’t save him from that.

“Then stay for a little longer,” you whispered, your fingers brushing against his jaw as you leaned in to kiss him. It was soft, tender, a plea disguised as affection. “Just… for tonight.”

Jason closed his eyes, his brow furrowing slightly as he leaned into the kiss. His hand slid up your back, pulling you closer as he kissed you deeply, his lips moving against yours with a slowness that broke your heart. This wasn’t the same frantic passion that had consumed you earlier; this was something different—something that felt final, like a goodbye neither of you could bring yourselves to say.

“I don’t deserve you,” Jason whispered against your lips, his voice cracking ever so slightly.

You pulled back just enough to look at him, your hand resting on his cheek as your thumb traced the curve of his jaw. “That’s not for you to decide,” you said softly, trying to keep your voice steady even as your heart twisted painfully in your chest.

Jason’s eyes opened, and for a moment, he just stared at you, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he leaned forward, pressing his forehead against yours. His breath was warm against your skin, his hands gentle as they cradled your face.

“I’m no good for you,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I can’t give you what you need.”

You shook your head, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill over. “You don’t have to,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I just need you.”

The truth of those words hung between you like a fragile thread, and for a moment, Jason didn’t move. He just held you, his breath shaky, his fingers trembling slightly against your skin. You could feel the war raging inside him, the push and pull between the man he wanted to be and the man he believed he was.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he admitted quietly, his voice raw and vulnerable in a way you had never heard before. “I don’t know how to be with someone like you. Someone good.”

The sadness in his voice broke something inside you, and you reached up, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that was soft, slow, and full of all the things you couldn’t say. You kissed him like you could somehow pour all your love, all your hope, into him—like you could show him that he didn’t need to be perfect, that you didn’t care about the scars or the darkness that haunted him.

Jason kissed you back, but there was a hesitance in his touch, a lingering doubt that you couldn’t shake. His hands roamed your body with a tenderness that felt almost foreign, as if he was trying to be gentle with something he didn’t believe he deserved. And it only made your heart ache more.

“I don’t need you to be anything but yourself,” you whispered against his lips, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer. “That’s all I want.”

For a long moment, Jason didn’t respond. He just held you, his forehead pressed against yours, his breath ragged and uneven. You could feel the conflict in him, the part of him that wanted to stay fighting against the part of him that believed he didn’t deserve this—that he didn’t deserve you.

But then, slowly, he nodded, his grip tightening around you as if he had finally made a decision. He kissed you again, deeper this time, and the tension between you seemed to melt away, replaced by a quiet sense of understanding.

The rest of the night passed in a haze of whispered words and shared touches. Jason’s hands were softer now, his movements more deliberate, as if he was trying to savor every moment with you. There was a quiet intensity to it, a sense that this was all he could offer you, and that he wanted to make it last.

And you let him.

For hours, the two of you existed in that quiet, intimate space, the world outside forgotten as Jason poured himself into you—body and soul. His kisses were slow, his hands gentle, and you could feel the weight of everything unsaid in the way he touched you, in the way he held you close as if you were the only thing keeping him tethered to reality.

But even as you lost yourselves in each other, you knew the dawn was coming. You knew that eventually, Jason would have to leave—that the world outside would come crashing back in, and the fragile peace between you would shatter.

But for now, for these fleeting moments, you were enough.

As the first light of morning began to filter through the curtains, Jason stirred beside you. His arm tightened around your waist, and he pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin.

“I should go,” he murmured, though he made no move to leave.

You nodded, even though you wanted to beg him to stay. You both knew he couldn’t. But that didn’t make it any easier.

Jason pulled back slightly, his eyes meeting yours as he brushed a strand of hair from your face. There was something different in his gaze now—something softer, more open. It wasn’t quite hope, but it was close.

“I’ll be back,” he said quietly, his voice steady despite the uncertainty that hung between you.

You smiled, a sad, knowing smile. “I’ll be here.”

He kissed you one last time—soft, lingering, and full of promises that neither of you could make. And then, with a reluctant sigh, he slipped out of bed, gathering his clothes in the quiet dawn.

You watched him go, your heart heavy with the knowledge that this wouldn’t last. Jason was a storm, and no matter how much you wanted to be his calm, you couldn’t stop him from being who he was. But you could hold onto these moments, these nights when he let you in, when the darkness was kept at bay for just a little while.

And as he disappeared into the early morning light, you pulled the blankets tighter around you, holding onto the warmth he had left behind.

Because for now, that was enough.

Taglist: @arisa191

[assassinmidnight]

Flufftober day 21: Bonfire

Jason/RedHood xVigilante!AFAB!Autistic!Reader

Not proof read, I have dyslexia and I did my test, YAY(sorry for any mistakes)

It's the same as all the other fluffs from this tober, same couple.

Summery: Bonfires, roasted almonds and annoying brothers.

One would think Jason got enough of fire and smoke on a daily basis by just being Red Hood, one wouldn’t be wrong in that thought either. But one would have forgotten to consider one important aspect and that would be Jason’s sweet partner who had a soft spot for bonfires and roasted almonds, which is how Jason found himself here, at the Gotham park, wandering down the small fair with you.

“Thank you for going with me today, I’ve always wanted to go here with a date,” Jason smiled as you spoke, “Sorry it took so long for it to happen, but I’m happy I’m the first,” he kissed the crown of your head. As you continued to walk and talk, Jason felt his heart tighten at the thought of doing this every year. You’d been dating for a little less than 3 months, but you’ve known each other for years. “...Jay, you okay?” He turned to see your concerned eyes looking up at him, “Yeah, sorry, just a little lost in my thoughts,” he smiled and continued to walk with you, eventually making it to the bonfire itself. He wrapped his arms around you from behind and watched as the fire and smoke rose to the sky.

“If you want, I can make sure there's a bonfire on our anniversary as well,” Jason whispered in your ear, “It would be cute, but knowing you, it would be an illegal fire,” you look up to him, seeing the flames reflect in his eyes. He glances down at your lips for a brief second before responding “So? I’d burn Arkham down if it made you happy,” he gave your lips a slight peck. “I’ll go grab some roasted almonds, you wait right here, okay princess?” You nodded and watched him disappear in the crowds, placing your headphones over your ears while the fire raged on.

Jason huffed as he escaped the crowd, heading straight for the three figures who had been watching them from afar.

“Dick, I know-”

“Hey! It was Damians idea, not mine,” Dick was quick to defend, pointing at the youngest of the four. “Tch, snitch. You wanted to come here as much as I did,” Damian retorted, eating some pink cotton candy. “Well you’ve seen, so scram,” Jason looked over at his ‘brothers’, they all looked so inconspicuous, matching scarves. He had the same one too, with a “J” on it, Alfred had made them last year. “Well, we came to spy, but the vibe here is nice so no,” Tim replied, voice annoying as ever, in Jason’s opinion. “Can’t you le-” “Before you lose your temper, dear brother. I would recommend going back to your love, otherwise they might just disappear,” Damian said, smug as ever. Once again Jason huffed before turning on his heel. “Wait!” Jason turned at Dick’s words, seeing a red velvet box in his brother's hand. “Good luck little bro,” Jason’s eyes widened at the box before taking it. “Thanks,” he muttered before heading back into the crowd. 

“Hi,” you felt his hand on your shoulder and jumped a bit at the sudden contact, but after a minute you relaxed into his chest. “Was it that hard to find the roasted almonds?” you asked, intertwining one hand with his.

“.......”

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*I DO NOT ALLOW THE PLAGIARISM OF MY WORK, FOR IT TO BE USED IN AI OR FOR IT TO BE REPOSTED ELSEWHERE*