#street bird (jason todd);

[acid-ixx]

I’m new, I just read your fic about neglect reader. I haven’t read through your blog yet but I am so excited after reading this fic. I am an emotional wreck right now and my curiosity is eating me alive with this question “Does reader know about Jason? Will they ever met? Ever have a platonic relationship together? Will Jason be more of a brother to reader?”

I’m sorry I speed through the fic and tears are in my eyes I couldn’t think straight BUT I notice that Jason is hardly there so I’m curious. Please this is such a brain rot, it’s way past midnight after I read this cause I keep stopping to cry.

major (?) spoilers below.

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

hello anon !! im so happy ppl are getting more exposed to the content i have written so far. anyways, i can't believe i also got others to cry bec i did too when i was writing 😭

anyways, to answer ur question: yes! the reader will meet jason and he would actually be the first sibling you would meet after you have left the manor. the way he would turn yandere for you is a different approach to how the others would be because in the prequel, it has been stated that you had your fair share of encounters with him.

"will they ever have a platonic relationship with him/see him as a brother?" maybe, maybe not. because your meeting with him would all be a blur to you, and jason's obsession would stem from the trauma he had experienced, causing him to be more protective of you.

you're not in your best mindset and you're vulnerable walking through the streets of gotham and all alone? oh god, only a dumbass would do that— but once the red hood recognizes your face and the way you carry yourself so pitiably, he immediately tries to take you in his arms just as he should.

but the moment you push him away? tell him to fuck off despite your drunken state? the moment you cry and tell him you could deal with everything yourself without his help or anybody else's? you just remind him of himself and that triggers his first spiral into yandere-ism.

it's the way you share trauma, the way you both feel immense anger. he should've noticed sooner because you two would've been as close as peas in a pod. and yet he failed you by being a hypocrite. you were literally taken into the manor right after his death and discarded like you were mere trash. he should've taken you away when he had the opportunity to but he was too caught up in his feat of revenge.

yet the worst part was that he had taken notice of tim before he did you, and jason had momentarily hated you too because he thought bruce had replaced him. if he had looked through that veil of contempt that he had for you, and saw just how neglected and in need of attention you are, then he would've taken you under his wing.

but he didn't, and he had done the same thing to you as most did.

so take it as you will when i say you're more or less going to be closer (albeit unwillingly) to jason than anybody else because unlike his other siblings who are bound by their vigilante duties, your big brother jason wouldn't mind shooting any creeps who think they could touch his precious angel.

and he gets it, too, angel— you hate him, you hate them all and that's valid. but you can't just walk out in the streets alone and expect to be home in one piece; so leave it to him to scout your apartment alright? leave it to your big brother jason to intimidate the goons who try to stalk you when you're not looking. even if you don't want him near you, you'll always find warm food by your table and a note reminding you to take care of yourself more often.

it hurts when you rip the paper to shreds but it breaks his heart even more if you refuse to touch the meal he would leave for you, because that probably means you saw him as danger more than anything else. and he doesn't know it, but you're already planning to make a run for it now that you're under red hood's radar.

it's obvious that you have no experience when it comes to living by yourself, so please don't fucking push him away and let him protect you from any harm. your self destructive habits only causes him to become more protective of you and it only lets him stalk you more often to ensure nobody would touch his precious angel.

just like dick, you'll be treated more like a child than that of a young adult, but at least jason has the concept of personal space compared to your eldest brother. but still, jason wishes to hold you in his arms.

heaven forbid if the joker ever got his crummy fingers on you. jason would go berserk.

little does he know, little does your family know just how much they had lost the opportunity to keep you in wraps inside the manor.

they should've never let you out in the first place.

[ghost-bxrd]

Prompt:

Jason drinks alcohol for the first time ever post resurrection and makes some questionable choices in the form of plastered phone calls and worrisome messages/voicemails.

He wakes up the next morning to at least ten missed calls and dozens of panicked text messages.

[clockwaysarts]

[curious-trickster]

Tim is benched from going out as Red Robin, but somehow still sports a black eye when he gets down to the cave a few days later when Jason is around.

This is after Jason reconciled with the family (Tim, Dick and Damian bullied him and Bruce into getting over themselves and at least be civil which each other. They both still tiptoe around each other but they are fine for now).

Jason would very much like to know who the hell laid hands on Tim when he was supposed to be safe and recovering.

[gay-dorito-dust]

How these goofs react to you letting go of their hand all of a sudden…

Dick’s is a bit short cuz it is. Take that what you will. Plush he looks like the type to have a somewhat skincare routine/ enjoy participating in a skincare routine but that’s just me.

Dick Grayson exe has stopped working.

No literally, he just stares at his hand that you let go of as it grasps thin air.

You broke him. Congratulations.

Now apologise to poor Dickie bird for pulling such a stunt.

‘Why did you let go? What’s wrong?’ He’d ask, reaching a hand over to try and grab your hand again, only for you to pull away.

You shrugged ‘nothing, I just don’t feel like holding hands right now.’

Dick blinked. ‘Is it because I’m wearing moisturiser and it’s making your hand slip out of mine?’ He asked out of the blue and you couldn’t help but smile at his spontaneity sometimes.

‘No, it’s not because of that, even though it doesn’t get a bit…much sometimes.’ You muttered the last part under your breath. Dick beamed brightly when it wasn’t anything that he had done specifically that made you want to stop holding hands, and immediately grabbed for your hand again and intertwined your fingers together. ‘Good because I hope you know that I’m not letting go of your hand now.’ He said.

You couldn’t bring yourself to stop him as Dick was at his cutest when he was happy and beaming brightly; Besides it was a silly prank you pulled that wouldn’t have lasted long anyways. ‘Fine by me, Dickie bird. Fine by me.’ You said to yourself as you both walked home from a date night well done.

Jason Todd would only try to hold your hand again as though nothing happened.

Then when you’d slip your hand from him a second time, Jason would stop, grab your hand and intertwine his fingers with yours and hiss. ‘Stop it, you’re acting like you don’t want to hold my hand.’

‘Well what if I don’t to?’ You asked him innocently enough and Jason stops to look at you, eyes softened. ‘If you didn’t want to hole my hand chipmunk, all you had to do was say so.’ Just as he was about to let go of your hand completely, you were quick to hold his hand and intertwine your fingers with his.

Jason raised his brows at you. ‘I didn’t peg you as the type to backpedal on your own prank sweetheart.’ He began. ‘Now I wonder why that is?’ He’d ask as he began to lead you both down the street again. You pouted, squeezing his hand, too stubborn to admit the fact that you loved the way that Jason’s hand felt within your own; Feeling protected, safe and sound. Also with the way that his hand encased yours in pure warmth was just an added bonus.

‘You keep me warm.’ You said but the way you worded it made it sound more of a question than anything else, and Jason picked that up almost immediately as he wolfishly smirked at you. ‘Is that your sole reason. That I keep you warm?’ He asks as he leaned towards your face, his hot breath fanning across your face. ‘Now why don’t I believe that.’ He adds and you took a deep breath to compose yourself before responding. ‘Believe me or not but that’s my only reason for holding your hand.’

Jason pouts as he holds his free hand against his chest as though he were hurt by your response. ‘If all I am to you is a hand warmer, then I guess I must accept my fate.’ He joked and you couldn’t help but laugh at his theatrics, fondly remembering the night that he confessed his adoration for everything theatre. ‘I guess you should.’ You chuckled, pressing a kiss to his cheek. ‘We’ve got some books that require some much needed reading waiting for us at home after all.’ You added and smiled as Jason practically dragged you all the way home as he strode long strides.

Damian Wayne would react to you unceremoniously letting go of his hand the same way he’d react if someone were to insult his entire lineage; with a disgusted sneer.

‘What do you think you’re doing?’ He’d ask, crossing his arms over his chest, obviously unamused.

‘Didn’t feel like holding your hand anymore.’ You admitted with a shrug.

Damian huffs. ‘If that’s your reasoning then so be it.’ He’d then continue to walk off without another word.

Yep, that was Damian’s way of telling you that you just lost hand holding privileges for a week. Upon noticing this, you were quick to try and catch up to him and attempted multiple times to hold his hand once more, only for Damian to swiftly avoid your advances as though you were the plague.

‘Damian.’ You grunted as he dodged another one of your attempts of holding his hand. ‘Hold still and let me hold your fucking hand.’ Damian raised his brow at you and scoffs. ‘Tt. Done being childish have you?’ He asks rhetorically as you tried to hold his hand for the third time in the past five minutes. ‘It was only a prank Dami!’ You exclaimed, stopping in your footfalls when Damian stopped abruptly in front of you.

‘I’m aware.’ He answered dryly.

‘If I say sorry, will you let me hold your hand?’ You asked, regretting ever pulling a prank on Damian on the first place because no matter how low you’d go, Damian would somehow manage to go into the depths of hell to get his own back tenfold. Damian raised his brows. ‘Perhaps. Depends on how well put together your apology is.’

You groaned in frustration, knowing that you’ll never win with this little shit. ‘Fine. I’m sorry for pranking you Damian. How’s that for an apology?’ You said as quickly as you could just to get it over with in hopes of sparing yourself even more embarrassment. Damian pondered for a little bit and was about to say no and go back to walking, but when he caught a glimpse of your face, he knew then and there that he had truly gone soft as he found himself offering up his hand to you.

‘Don’t do it again.’ Was all he said and you immediately beamed as you clasped your hand in his, intertwining your fingers as you began to walk down the street.

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Afterlife, But It's A Bar

[discontinued, feel free to add on]

It was weird. Not wrong, alarming or dangerous type of weird. Not good or comforting either.

Just plain weird.

It all started a few days ago, on Wednesday, to be exact. On a rare occasion, Jason was patrolling outside of his territory ("cover for me, I have a date" my ass, Replacement), and he spotted something out of place. A neon green, almost toxic colored sign that read "Afterlife".

Honestly, who names a place like that? But judging by the placement and design, it was a bar, and Jason could almost appreciate the irony. Maybe it had a slogan along the lines of "our drinks will send you beyond the lines of life and death" or something. But at the same time, it could be interpreted as "alcohol can and will be the death of you," which, technically, is not the best PR campaign for a bar.

Jason decided to visit the place anyway. He was curious about the implied death joke, sue him.

Of course, he didn't visit immediately. He was still on patrol, and he just heard the sound of gunshots to the west. Not to say that the place was quiet.

(Oddly quiet for a bar in Gotham, now that he thinks about it)

Anyway, the next day, he went there not as Red Hood but as Jason Todd, an ordinary civilian who decided to grab a beer in the evening. Only to not find the place.

He couldn't have just miss it - he remembered the street, he knew the building, he was absolutely fucking sure where the "Afterlife" should have been. He searched the whole block nonetheless, and then proceeded to check the whole area, but to no avail.

Damn, it seems like he can't get to the afterlife both literally and- the other literally. Yeah, he might be having too much fun with the oddly chosen name for the nonexistent bar.

It didn't exist on the maps and internet either. At this point, Jason was contemplating the idea of it being a hallucination or a dream. He even checked the recording on his helmet from Wednesday night, but the whole time he was in the area, the video was filled with interference and static.

Weird. Slightly suspicious, but Red Robin, who's been patrolling the same area for weeks before him, never reported any interferences, so it probably had something to do with his helmet and not the area in general.

On Thursday night, he purposefully went there right after patrol. And the nonexistent bar suddenly existed again! The same neon green sign, the same quiet street around it.

Seriously, what is this mysterious fuckery?

Now, if he was a Bat, he would have reported this to others and investigated, lurked around in shadows, and approached with caution. If he was a Robin, he would have still reported and then straight up marched in there and saw how it goes.

Alas, he was Red Hood, so he decided to watch for the bar guests and see just who the hell goes in and out of the place.

And there was the next weird thing.

No one was going in or out. Jason sat there for a whole hour, and not even one person entered or left the building. Despite the muffled sounds of music, voices and laughter coming from the place.

The final kicker was the fact that after some careful questioning and dropping hints, Jason found out that no one except him ever saw the "Afterlife"'s sign. No one's even heard of it, both the Batclan and the Gothamites.

The fuck?

So he did the next logical thing. He brought the smartest member of the Bats with him. Tim owed him anyway. Might as well use it now instead of later.

Friday night proved two things: one, Tim was still his favorite to work with out of all the bats and birds, not questioning anything as to why Jason is asking him to check out a bar, and two, Jason just might be going insane.

Tim couldn't see the "Afterlife" even when Jason pointed at the sign from not further than ten feet. The irony of the stipid name was not even amusing anymore.

Tim didn't ask any questions after this experiment, and Jason didn't want to admit that he is losing the grip of reality, so they ended up simply parting their ways after. Can the Pits cause brain damage? More damage than there was in the first place, that is.

Now that he thinks about it, the color of the sign is really similar to the Lazarus waters. He should have noticed it sooner, but in his defense, who would look at the bubbling pool of toxic waters and think, "Oh, that would make a dope neon sign"? Apparently, the owner of the "Afterlife".

The color might be just a coincidence.

...no, in the world he lives in, coincidences like this just don't happen. Besides, Jason doesn't believe in shit like fate or destiny.

So, here he is, on Saturday night, standing in front of the door to the Afterlife. It would have been funny if it wasn't so weird. What's even more weird is that the closer he gets to the door, the less nervous he feels, like the place is radiating some calming aura. Wait, no, scratch that, Jason is so not calling it a calming aura for God's sake. That sounds just like those homemade witches with their crystals, tarot readings, and whatnot.

He's going to call it... tranquilizer vibes. Yeah, that's better.

He takes a deep breath, getting ready to see whatever it is on the other side, pushes the door open, and walks into the bar.

...

Whatever he's been expecting to see, it's not this.

[morverenmaybewrites]

Lessons on Love | Jason Todd x Reader

What lesson about love are they still trying to learn?

Asked by @/citrussaurus

Literally everything. 

I think that Jason’s experiences have shaped him into someone who has quite an unhealthy view on love and relationships: the lack of a positive example of a healthy relationship during his childhood years, the confusing (but not entirely loveless) relationship he had with Bruce Wayne, and eventually his years of rage and isolation as the Arkham Knight. 

By the time post-Arkham Knight rolls around, Jason has a deeply unhealthy view on love and relationships.

And yet, despite this, I feel like he craves this. More than that he’s starved for it. 

I think a part of him hopelessly, desperately wants to be held dear. He wants a place to belong, someone to belong to. 

And it’s his great tragedy that he doesn’t know how to ask for it and more importantly, he doesn’t know how to receive it. Sometimes, Jason loves so quietly that it’s hard to see it as love –because God knows that no one in his life ever taught him to properly communicate. 

I picture the way Jason seeks affection like a starved street dog: there’s a hunger to it, a thirst.

(After all, if you have spent your whole life being starved of something, isn’t it only natural to seek it out, even if it’s just the bare scraps? And here you are, willing to give him your whole heart.)

But there’s also a sort of tension, then animal instinct to flee after being kicked more than several times for it.

I picture him as always perched at the edge of things: waiting, waiting for the inevitable moment where the rug is pulled out from under him, when the affection you had always so freely given will suddenly be withheld, and he will be left starving again, a hole at the center of him that he has no idea how to fill.

(But oh you are worth the fall.)

But I always think of him as physically perched on things, especially on the early days of your relationship: the edge of towering skyscrapers, hovering in your doorway just barely stepping into your threshold until you finally have to ask him to come in, your windowsill, just barely keeping himself out of the rain. He’ll try to act relaxed, but really, he’s tense as a bird about to take flight. Always, always prepared for the moment where he’ll be asked to leave.

(And yet, and yet, all he wants is that you ask him to stay.) 

He doesn’t know how to show you affection, doesn’t know how to ask for it. All he’s ever known is how to make himself useful. 

(After all, useful things don’t get thrown away. Useful things don’t get asked to leave.) 

He’ll keep you safe, which in Gotham City is no small feat, keep the villains away from your door: from the small-time crooks who target regular civilians for just that extra bit of cash to the supervillains whose plans would likely involve you (and the rest of Gotham City) as collateral.

And at first, it’s eerie: the sudden silence in your life, the feeling of peace, of being looked out for. You have never gone so long without encountering some sort of mugger or been involved in a bank robbery.

Then perhaps one day, you’ll get a text from an unknown number, asking you to stay away from Gotham Square that day. When you try to call to get more information, it comes up as Unavailable. And perhaps a week after that, you’ll get a similar text from a different, this time telling you to avoid Bleake Island.

Perhaps you solve it quickly or perhaps, not at all and it takes you a while to put together the pieces: Jason has been keeping you safe. 

And when you decide to talk to him about it, he’s cagey, almost embarrassed. He won’t deny it, but at the same time, when you try to thank him or show you appreciate him, he’ll react with confusion. 

After all, keeping his loved ones safe is second nature to him. In fact, I feel like it’s the one act of love that all of the Bats are comfortable with. 

He’ll do other things for you too. He’ll get up and make dinner after a long day, despite having just come back from a grueling mission, he does the dishes without being asked, hell, he’ll sometimes even throw in a load of laundry for you–taking a an unexpected pleasure from seeing the way your clothes are mixed in with his, the simple solid domesticity of it, at how your lives have become so intermingled that he now has to separate your socks from his. 

In short, he’ll do acts that, while on the outside seem nice, would sometimes border on servile. 

When you try to show him how much you appreciate what he does, he’ll be even more embarrassed: there’s an odd tension around his shoulders, the slightest dusting of pink on his cheeks. 

(And oh, Jason hates the way he blushes, knows the way it discolors around the brand on his cheek, the way it doesn’t redden along with the rest of his skin, but instead stands out, ghostly pale.) 

So he’ll shrug it off, barely being able to look at you. Acutely aware of how strange and monstrous he looks.

And even more so, he’s painfully aware of the reason he’s doing these things. Not only because he wants to take care of you (and he does), but because it’s the only way he knows how to be useful, how to be needed. 

How to be asked to stay.   

[ode-to-melpomene]

Stray

Pairing: Jason Todd x gn!reader Synopsis: Jason doesn't believe in good intentions. Word Count: 2313 Warnings: Stalking, but no ill intent. Minor depictions of gore and injuries.

The first time Jason saw you, he couldn’t take his eyes off you. Enamored was too strong a word to describe the way his gaze followed your figure far below him. Captivated, maybe? Yes, captivated by the nervous way you sidled into Crime Alley, moving like an anxious cat as you hugged the wall and kept to the shadows. Skittish, and clinging tightly to the box in your hands as if it might grow legs and run away.

He watched you closely from his perch on a fire escape. The nearby flickering neon light cast a glow over you and the dirty street. Your breath fogged in front of your face.

Jason climbed to the edge of the fire escape, then stepped off onto a windowsill. He moved across the face of the building that way, clinging to sturdy drain pipes and window ledges as he loomed over you. You turned right onto an open street, and his brows furrowed beneath his helmet.

His eyes narrowed when you scampered across the open street and towards a dilapidated overhang that shadowed the entrance to an abandoned building. That was a squatter house, one he frequented on his patrols. Pretty bird in his territory, clothes too nice for this part of Gotham… what were you doing here?

His question was answered when the door to the building swung open with an echoing creek. A man with a thick beard and a knitted hat met you at the door. The warmth of a fire inside the building backlit him, obscuring his scowl.

You outstretched the box in your arms to the taciturn old man. He pulled back the cardboard flaps and looked inside, delivering a curt nod of approval in response. He snatched the box from you unceremoniously and quickly shut the door to the biting cold and your lingering gaze.

It was beginning to snow when you stepped out from under the building's cover. You rubbed your hands up and down your arms, then scampered back across the street and hid in the shadows once again. Jason watched you go, unmoving from the ledge he perched on in the darkness. When you were finally out of sight he dropped to the ground.

The light dusting of snow crunched under his boots, turning to dirty slush as he crossed the street. His gloved hand rose to rap against the creaky door. A curse came from inside, followed by shuffling.

The old man opened the door. Red Hood shouldered his way past the man and into the den, lit by the warm glow of fires in metal trash cans. There must have been twenty people inside, three or so up and moving and passing out… blankets?

“Got yourself a new delivery person, Roger?” Red Hood asked as he turned to face the old man, the firelight glinting off his helmet.

The man, Roger, crossed his arms over his chest and glared a bitter, distrustful glower. “That a problem?”

He paused for a beat, glaring at Roger through his helmet. “I need to know who’s coming in and out of the Alley,” Red Hood retorted, a mean scowl hidden on his face. His helmet turned on a swivel, taking in the state of what used to be a restaurant. “Thought I told you not to start fires in here. Don’t want you to get-”

“Carbon monoxide poisoning, yeah, heard you the first fifty times,” the old man answered with a dismissive wave. He moved around Red Hood on achy knees and snatched the now empty cardboard box from the ground. “Not much other options. You saw the snow coming down out there.”

“I won’t let you freeze to death.”

Roger scoffed and tossed the box into one of the makeshift fire pits. The flames sputtered a weak ‘thank you’ and hungrily consumed the cardboard. “Look, kid. We appreciate the bravado, but you can’t help all of us.”

Red Hood huffed out an angry breath. “I can’t clean up the Alley if-”

“You can’t clean it up at all,” the old man snapped, catching Jason off guard. He ground his teeth together when Roger turned away and marched across the open room. Jason followed close behind, teeth digging into his cheek. “It’s just how things are, kid. You’re too wrapped up in this filthy cesspool as is. We can’t exactly afford to repay you.”

Jason halted beside a fire pit. Roger froze several steps ahead of him, sensing the vigilante’s hesitation, and turned back to him with a raised brow.

“That goes for your delivery person, too?”

Roger shrugged and buried his hands in his coat pockets, chasing away the burning pink that blossomed across his cold fingers. “You’re not the first one I’ve told to not bother. It’s nothin’ malicious, I’d reckon, but self satisfaction is still a hell of a drug.”

Jason’s knuckles were bloody beneath his gloves the next time he saw you. 

The canvas of his gloves rubbed the split skin raw each time he opened and closed his fist. His eyes were wild beneath his helmet, darting across the rooftop he stood on for any other signs of life–well, life beyond the one figure who seemed to still be struggling to breath. The man leaned against the wall, face bloody, hand pressed over his abdomen, eyes closed. He looked better off than his companions.

Drug dealers. Jason lifted his helmet high enough to spit on the corpse a few feet from him, the rapidly dissipating heat of the pooling blood steaming up the cold night air. Served them right, he told himself.

It was when he looked down at the street below, gauging the drop, that his gaze zeroed in on you. A familiar figure weaving through the shadows. Your gait was burned into his memory. He knew it was you, despite the thick wool shawl wrapped around your head and shoulders to protect from the biting wind. Another box in your arms.

Jason stepped to the ledge with narrowed eyes. What were you doing this time, so close to the center of the most crime-ridden district of Gotham? The tips of your boots kicked up dirty, slushy snow, piled an inch thick on the scarcely used backroad. He walked along the ledge, following you from easily fifty feet above. His shadow fell in behind yours, looming like a wolf behind an unsuspecting lamb.

You turned left. Left, towards the red light district side of town. Jason scoffed and hopped down from the ledge, his boots crunching on gravel–if you wanted to get yourself killed, that was your own prerogative. You didn’t belong in Crime Alley anyway. Not his problem.

Jason carefully tugged on the gloved tips of each finger, slowly releasing the fabric. With a grunt, he yanked the canvas and shook his hand at the sting. His broad, scarred hands were dappled with bruises along his knuckles. Green met red in tender circles, purple blooming at the peaks of his bones. He clenched his fist, watching the skin split along the ridges, crimson rapidly filling the valley. The damage wasn’t as bad as he had originally thought. His fingers pried open the glove, surveying the inside. Maybe he should invest in some gloves with better lining…

He twisted to look over his shoulder, lower back popping twice at the change in angle. He was stiff, his broad shoulders sore. And yet, he held that angle as he stared down the side street he knew would only spell more trouble tonight. He’d already accomplished what he intended for the evening. It was risky to stay out any later. Who knew what sharks were lurking in the waters?

But…

Jason turned forward again as he tugged his glove back on, stretching his fingers inside the rough material. His hands were so cold he hardly noticed the sting against his knuckles. Snow touched the black fabric, held steadfast for a moment, then melted away. He watched a perfect snowflake, fully intact, touch down on his glove in one instant and fade away in the next.

He sighed as he turned back to the ledge, stepped up, and jumped.

It didn’t take him long to spot you wedged between a dumpster and a side door that led into a less than reputable strip club. He perched on the ledge of a nearby building with his elbows planted on his knees.

He didn’t have to wait long. The door swung open and a woman stepped out. Blonde, although the color didn’t look natural, with lips that color of his helmet and strappy heels to match. A pink beaded corset, and a feather boa wrapped around her shoulders. The woman stepped into the alleyway and unceremoniously dropped against the brick wall a few inches from you.

Jason narrowed his eyes as he watched you try to pass the box to the woman. She waved dismissively and instead pulled out a pack of cigarettes from where she held it tucked under her arm. A lighter was snatched from the edge of her corset and quickly replaced when the cigarette between her teeth was lit. She stared through heavy lashes at the cherry red end, took a drag, and began to speak.

The dancer talked for several minutes, taking periodic drags of the cigarette between words. She occasionally tipped her head towards you, gauging your reaction despite the thick shawl that obscured your face. She laughed in response to something you said, then dropped the butt of the cigarette and stomped out the light.

You tried to hand her the box again and this time the blonde woman accepted. She hefted it into her arms and balanced it on one as she rifled through the contents. Jason scowled when she withdrew a soup can and presented it to you with a wide smile and a giddy laugh. She replaced the soup can and used her free hands to pat your veiled cheek affectionately.

Then she was gone, back into the shadowy, smoke-filled club. You stood by yourself outside the door, hands limp at your sides as you stared at the door. You looked so small.

Jason’s heart stopped when you turned on your heel and looked right at him. Your eyes scaled the building slowly, almost as if you were tracing his shadow until you finally settled on him with a weighted stare. A predator’s stare. Jason wasn’t used to feeling like prey.

His skin crawled, and the feeling stuck even when you turned from him and stomped through the growing piles of dirty snow back the way you came. His heart thundered in his chest as he watched you drag your heels through the slush.

Jason followed. He knew he shouldn’t, but curiosity wormed itself deep between his ribs and egged him on. He walked along the ledge above you, no longer feeling like a wolf tailing a lamb. Suspicion brewed–sure, maybe you were just being a kind person, if there even was such a thing… but how often did people spot him like that?

So, he followed, despite the way it made his teeth grind and his skin itch. Jason kept the shadows, leaping from rooftop to rooftop and scaling walls while you skittishly meandered through the streets of Gotham. Your stride shortened when you finally exited Crime Alley. The warm glow of cleaner streets blanketed you in a golden haze.

Jason jolted from his thoughts when you climbed the steps of a brownstone apartment building, your cold hands fumbling at the door knob for just a moment before you slipped inside.

So that was it. You were gone, snatched from his vision as quickly as the snowflakes that melted on his jacket. He knew he should leave, that his hunt was over… so why did he stay rooted in place?

Jason found his answer when a light flicked on in a fifth story window. Warm, golden light slipped from your window invitingly. He wondered… Jason crouched on the balcony he stood on. Yes, he could see inside. It was a sparsely decorated apartment that hardly looked lived in, a simple sofa against one wall and a foldable table with three chairs in the center of the living room.

His skin crawled.

He flinched when you reappeared, your hands carefully unwinding the thick scarf from around your head and shoulders. He was right, you were the person he had seen before. He recognized the downturn of the corners of your mouth and the crinkle in your brow as you toed your boots off.

Enamored, maybe. Yes, enamored was the right way to describe how his eyes greedily followed you shucking your coat. Enamored by the way you dropped it on the floor without a care. Enamored by the way your nails raked your scalp and your lips split in a yawn.

Sullen when you once again disappeared from view.

Jason’s mind screamed at him to move. This wasn’t something he should be watching–this was a private, domestic moment for your eyes, not his. He was no better than the men he put down.

And yet his heart raced when you reappeared. You opened the window that led to your fire escape, heat fogging up the chilly air. The curtains around the window drifted around you in the subtle, crisp breeze. Jason watched you with bated breath as you turned, bent down, and gathered something in your hands.

His brows furrowed in confusion as you held a mug of some steaming liquid in each hand. You took a sip of one, then set the other down on the ledge outside the window.

The window slid shut with a deafening click, and you disappeared. The golden lights of your apartment were snuffed out minutes later.

The steam wafting from the mug eventually faded. Jason remained frozen in place.

Masterlist ✴ 'Stray' Series ✴ Next Part

[elizzsush]

Escape Reality | Part 0

PAIRINGS: Batfam X Reader (platonic), Jason Todd X Reader (romantic)

—Why did you choose to get a dog? And why did you choose to walk him before the beginning of a storm? Well… you can’t say you regret it.

AU/Trope: Isekai

Rating: SFW (as always)

❥ [Part 0] - [Part 1] (not yet out)

________________________________

A/Note: Heavily inspired by the amazing and incredible @daydreams-to-passages ! They wrote something I hadn’t even thought of which evolved into this fic! I really just expanded on their ideas so this is like 70% them! This is a little short but it's really just a prologue.

Oh, and lastly: if you know me IRL no you fucking don’t!

________________________________

When you got a dog… well, every dog owner knows the joys of walking their perfectly well behaved dog. It's sometimes the best thing in the world! If you were to pick up into a light jog, your puppies ears would flap up and down- his fur blowing back as a nice breeze and cool weather egg you on for more of that same old walking.

But no, when you got a dog… well let’s just say you weren’t prepared to actually own a dog. You had just moved to New York, into a shitty cramped apartment, and you were lonely and depressed and what’s a good fix for all that? Getting a dog! A larger then a corgi sized dog. Weighing in at around 50 pounds was your new pride and joy! Your new terror and the reason why you now stay up later thinking “why the hell did I get a dog when I can’t afford my own food?” You made a choice and now your life was unraveling around you because of said choice.

But… you also felt guilty. It wasn’t erm… “Fido”’s choice to live with you. So you’d buy his food before your own just to make sure you can afford his, and you’d try and take him on walks every single day. Because, that small crappy apartment is doing nothing for “Buddy”…?

So yes, walking a dog is so relaxing and fun! If you can afford to take the time or buy training classes where they teach him how to… walk on a leash.

BARK BARK BARK!!

“The pigeons are gone, dude!” You huff and tug him away from the side of the sidewalk- across you was the park, where a lovely old women was feeding birds. Keyword: was. You dog… “bear”, was so unstimulated and just badly behaved… it often left you so very embarrassed and put out. So even after “Baxter” started his walk on again- satisfied with his bird scaring talents, he still tugged forward because you were apparently too slow by his standards. So, walking “Max” was great! Amazing even. What wasn’t great was… well you had hoped you’d be home by now, you had read the weather was getting cloudier but hey- a little water never hurt anyone?

Except everyone on the titanic.

The worst part? The damn dog was loving every bit of the rain, he even sat his ass down to chop on the rain above him!! Everyday you were a little more convinced he hated you… just when things couldn’t have been worse, a stupid DUMB cat appeared! It ran right in front of you and “buster” into an alley!

Listen, you had calmed down on the leash tugging since the damn dog sat down- you didn’t expect a cat! So yes, Mr “Duke” got away from you… THE FUCKING DOG GOT AWAY FROM YOU. You gave chase after a cat and a dog… no you’ll totally win this race!

And if you couldn’t have been miserable enough, you hit a fucking brick wall…

But… hey wait, you could have sworn you dog and that cat went this way…

Your nose was bleeding, you had checked it with your hand… and now you were blacking out. Thunder struck and that was the last thing you saw…

Then you died, much like the second robin did.

Actually, he died pretty heroically and was murdered by a super villain. You ran into a wall.

You also didn't die.

"What the actual fuck." You whined as you sat up and held you head. Great, now you had a headache on top of this rain... You were in an alleyway still. Sadly, that didn't change since you passed out. But for some reason it felt... colder? The whole neighbor streets turned dark and cold you realized once you stood up walked around. Everything just looked duller, less color, it felt like an invisible fog laid across the streets. The rain picked up harder, like some God or deity was trying to wash the city away. The building had turned to cool greys and blacks with pops of graffiti in the long narrow alleys. "What the actual fuck?" You spun around to look at more of... where you supposedly lived, trying to figure out what just happened.

In the distance, you can hear erm... your dog barking. Panic swelled in your chest like an ugly bruise. Darting towards the sound you calmed down slightly when you saw your dog sat nicely staring at a man. A man who was eating a hot dog in the pouring rain...

"No can't have my chili dog," scolded a black-haired stranger as you finally see your beloved dog. Both of them were standing under something, protecting the male from the rain while your poor pouch was already a wet dog. Just when the stranger was about to cave to your dog's whims and argumentative barks you shouted out.

"Dog," You yelled out and the pup's ears perked up. still, you pup was still for once in his life and not causing... too much trouble. His attention was now on you, but he still didn't move away from the man with food.

This action- or lack of action made you sigh. Glancing around, you couldn't help but notice the complete lack of people nearby.

"Dog, what does it not got a man?" The man asked absentmindedly, like he was more talking to himself then he was to you. Thankfully you had just closed the gap between the two of you when he said it, so you didn't miss his words.

Admittedly, you didn't give your dog a name... Nothing seemed to stick out or fit. "No- His name is uh... Dog..." You tried to defend yourself against the- on second glance- attractive male.

"You named your dog... Dog?" He raised an eyebrow, and you shrunk in a little more on yourself.

"Erm... Yes?" You doubled down...

"Okay," He accepted it with a little blink, and you'll miss it eyeroll. "Does Dog know any tricks?" He asked as he finished his hotdog and knelt down to pet... Dog.

You blushed a bit because... You hadn't taught Dog any tricks yet. You had gotten him a months ago, so he was still a somewhat fresh face... "He knows sit." He knows the basics of sit; his success rate with that trick was 30%, this stranger didn't need to know that though.

The stranger hummed like he didn't believe you. He shouldn't have but you still felt offended.

Wait, this guy looked a lot like... It was the black hair with a little white streak in it really, it reminded you so strongly of the second robin even to his leather jacket.

"Are you cosplaying," came out of your mouth before you could even think about the words properly. With a hand now smacked onto your mouth you looked away from the man with a hint of humiliation at his confused expression. "I mean- You'd make a really good Jason." You corrected only to see the male give a more... curious look.

"Todd, from DC," You added, hoping to clear away his curiosity. "Jason todd..." You added more when you realized this was probably getting nowhere, and you weren't in a place mentally to describe the whole robin situation- nor would he probably care enough...

"DC? Do you mean WE?" The male corrected with a hint of a smirk, like he knew something you didn't. "He's that guy's son, right? Before he died."

You couldn't help but frown. "Well yeah- I mean he came back... Are we talking about the same thing?" You sighed, looking at you pup now. You should really just take him home- cut the walk short. Just when you thought of that however, the stranger seemed to find that perfect spot behind Dog's ear and he leaned more into the Ex-Robin look-a-likes hand,

"He came back?" The male questioned; you just shook your head. You had gotten into a DC rant one to many times to get into one now, in the middle of pouring rain. While you sighed to yourself about that, you missed his suspicious looked and the way he began to eye you...

"What's WE?" You asked instead.

That was when he looked at you as if you didn't know anything. "You don't know Wayne Enterprises?"

[n0cturn4]

Character: Jason Todd x Reader Summary: “I don’t want to hurt you,” he confessed, vulnerability shaping his words. “But I can’t ignore what I am.” Word Count: 535 Music: The bird song - Noah Floersch

In the pulsating heart of the city, where shadows dance and secrets whisper, Jason Todd, the vigilante marked by a tumultuous past, carried the weight of his scars on his shoulders. Life as Robin taught him about struggle, loss, and the fragile line that separates light from darkness. But then you appeared, a ray of hope, illuminating the darkest corners of his soul.

In the early encounters, Jason was a mystery, wrapped in an almost sacred silence. His eyes, deep as the night, revealed a whirlwind of unspoken emotions. Together, you shared laughter beneath the stars, navigating forgotten streets, as if the world around you was merely a canvas for the love story you were painting.

Yet, even in the happiest moments, the shadow of his pain loomed over him. The scars of a vigilante’s life were persistent shadows, whispering fears and insecurities. He feared that by allowing himself to love, you would become yet another victim of the storms that haunted him. One night, after a violent confrontation, he withdrew, the silence between you becoming an insurmountable chasm.

“Jason, you don’t have to do this,” you pleaded, your voice choked with sadness. “I’m here. You can trust me.”

He shook his head, his eyes heavy with an anguish that seemed insatiable. “I’m a monster. I can’t give you the life you deserve.” The declaration echoed in your heart like an arrow, embedding itself deep within your soul.

The emptiness he left was an incessant echo; the nights stretched on in his absence, transforming into a silent lament. But you refused to give up. Determined, you decided that you needed to find him, that your love was a flame that would not be extinguished by the darkness.

On that moonlit night, you finally spotted him, leaning against a wall, his gaze lost on the horizon. Upon seeing you, his heart raced, but he remained still, like a stone statue. You approached, a hesitant step forward, knowing you had to break the barrier between you.

“Jason,” you began, your voice soft as a breeze, “don’t let your fears stop you from living. I’m not perfect, but I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

His eyes met yours, and for the first time, the light of hope reflected in his deep gaze. The words he longed to say were caught in his throat, but the expression on his face spoke of an internal struggle, a burning desire for change.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he confessed, vulnerability shaping his words. “But I can’t ignore what I am.”

“Neither can I,” you replied, your voice steady as a beacon. “But together, we can face our demons. We will be each other’s shelter in the storm.”

The words hung in the air, a thread of hope weaving between you. Jason hesitated, but the love he felt for you burned brighter than his fear. He took a step forward, and in a simple gesture, he took your hand, feeling the connection that had always bound you together.

With time, you became masters at navigating between light and darkness, discovering the beauty hidden in wounds and the joy in life’s little moments. And so, beneath the moon’s embrace, you became more than lovers; you became allies, ready to face life’s storms together.

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

The safety on his gun was turned back on with an inaudible click as Jason let the tension leak out of his body.

It wasn't often that someone broke into one of his safe houses, especially one that he hadn't used in a while, so seeing as some of his silent alarms went off he raced over ready to put a bullet in some wannabe robber or maybe a goon sent by another crime lord trying to start something.

Instead he found a prime bat adoption bait sitting in the living room floor, bare stomach pressed to the side of a ginormous egg. It didn't look like any egg hed ever seen either with midnight blue fuzz covering the whole thing. "Hey kid."

The kids head whipped around, startled by a strangers voice. "Who are you?" He asked incredulously, hugging the monster egg closer to himself, "How did you get in here? This place has some serious security."

Jason gave a short laugh, "Yeah, I know. I'm the one who put it there." He watched with mild amusement as the color drained from the kids face.

"You're the apartment owner? I thought he was supposed to be some big scary crime lord!"

"I'm not scary to you?" It wasn't uncommon for people to be intimidated by him. He was, as Steph put it, 'built like a fridge'.

The adoption bait stared into his eyes for a few torturously long seconds before simply saying, "No."

Huh.

"So, whats up with the egg?" He asked, trying to change the subject.

"Thats my line, Todd." A voice said from across the room. Both him and the little intruder snapped there attention to the window where Robin was perched. Jason fought back the urge to chastise the little bat for using his real name seeing as he was out of costume at the moment. After all he was here as Jason Todd, normalish civilian man who came to see why his house was broken into, not Red Hood. Jason almost wished with was some goon working for a big bad even if it would have meant his secret identity was busted, he would have been at least dealing with that instead of Damians inevitable animal custody battle with the kid. Speaking of which.

"Hey kid, whats your name?"

"Danny Fenton." The kid-Danny, tilted his head. "I think."

Robin raised an eyebrow, causing his mask to sift with it, "You think?"

Danny nodded, "Yeah. Got blasted with something a few weeks ago and I don't remember much before that." His grip on the egg had loosened a bit and Robin chose this as he time to strike. Bird boy tried to lift the egg up out of the intruders impromptu blanket nest, but seemed to have misjudged the weight of the egg that was as big as both children's torsos and Danny was swift to take back his egg.

"What do you think you're doing?! Thats mine!" Egg dad hissed.

"Tt. I will be better able to care for the creature. You should just hand it over now. Do you even know whats in there?"

"No! Neither do you!"

Jason knew Robin couldn't refute that so he chose now to step in, "Where did that thing even come from?

He watched as Dannys scowl turned into a beaming smile as he told them about how he was hiding behind a dumpster for warmth when this egg just fell out of the sky and with quick thinking, managed to catch it with a bed of ruined pillows from a recent villian attack. "So you can't take my dragon egg away. I'm the only reason it didn't become a failed street omelet." Danny held his hands on his hips while giving Robin a smug look.

Before the demon brat could say anything or, more likely, try to wipe that smirk off the other kids face, a new person swooped in through the window. "You think its a dragon egg?"

The kid seemed unbothered by the Batman questioning him and just replied with, "Yeah! Look how big it is! Its gotta be a dragon!"

Bruce looked like he was about to have an aneurysm, "You found a large egg of an unknown, potentially supernatural creature and decided to incubate it?"

"Yeah!"

Jason decided he liked this kid.

[jinxposting]

Jason Todd x Jinx! reader Chapter 4

Different

The next time you saw Robin was while you, Joker, and Harley were robbing Gotham City Bank.

These were your least favorite kinds of missions. Banks had a certain time limit for their silent alarms, which means limited fanfare. Limited fun. Boring. Thank god the Bat showed up, otherwise today would've been a total snooze fest.

You fiddled with a grenade in the back seat of Joker's convertible. He swerved through the streets haphazardly, Harley shooting behind you at the batmobile. You glanced back but couldn't catch a glimpse of bat nor bird through the tinted windshield. You tossed the grenade over your shoulder. The blast sounded behind you, but the armored vehicle never let up it's relentless pursuit.

A grappling hook shot out from the front of the batmobile. It pierced a tire, Joker's car skidding to an abrupt stop. Once the ground stopped moving you readied yourself to sprint. Before you could however a hand grabbed you by the shoulder. You swung your elbow back with force. The assailant dodged, spinning you around in the process.

Robin.

"Hey, Boy Wonder! Fancy meeting you here."

"In a car chase? Pretty standard for you."

The boy froze. You could feel his eyes scanning you head to toe.

"You look... different."

You picked up one of your braids with a twirl. "All natural now, baby!"

"W- How?"

"Took a nice, long chemical bath."

"What? Why did- did Joker-"

"Relax, baby bird. It's family tradition."

"Some family." He grumbled.

Now that struck a nerve.

"At least my family doesn't make me dress up like a weak, little bird."

"Better than actually being weak and little."

You swung a fist. Similar to before, he blocked it. Unlike before, he didn't block the butt of your gun. Robin stumbled backwards with a newly split eyebrow.

"Seriously?!"

"Deadly."

He swept your legs, which you narrowly avoided with a quick jump. In one fell swoop you kicked him in the chest, sending him tumbling to the ground with a grunt. He recovered in time to kick you up and over himself. You rolled to a stop, rising to your feet, fists up and ready for a fight. In the blink of an eye Robin matched your posture.

A punch flew past your head, you weaved out of the way before the second could land. "You shouldn't have taught me how to fight."

The boy smirked. "Didn't teach you everything."

Suddenly your world was turned upside down. Literally. Before you could even process what had happened you were handcuffed and slung over the boy's shoulder.

"Wha-"

"And back to the batmobile we go."

"Put me down!"

"I will. In a restrained chair."

"You dick!"

"Jason actually."

"... Huh?"

"Nothing. Inside joke."

Robin stared at you in silence. Batman was still attempting to track down Joker's route, which left you two sitting silently in the batmobile.

"... You look sick."

"Really? That's your opening line after ten minutes of nothing? You really know how to charm a girl."

"I'm serious. Your skin is pale. And your hair is... well..."

"Green?"

"Yeah."

"It was like that when we met!"

"You know what I mean! You used to be you and now you're just... Joker Jr."

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

"Probably 'cause it is."

"To you maybe."

"Why... How can you be loyal to someone so evil?"

"How can you be loyal to someone so cold?"

He opened his mouth only to close it. "It's a long story."

"Ditto."

Another wave of silence overtook you two. You watched the boy adjust his gloves almost anxiously.

"You think one day we'll be them?"

"Who?"

"Joker and Batman. You think when they're old and retired we'll be the next them?"

"Never thought about it... I hope not."

"How come?"

"I want a rival that can actually rival me."

"Fuck off."

"I mean it. You keep learning to fight - and not just from me - then maybe I'll let you be my Joker."

"Your Jinx."

"My Jinx."

"And you learn how to have some fun and maybe I'll let you be my Batman."

"Isn't your idea of fun blowing up buildings?"

"Yup!"

"Well that's not gonna happen."

"Such a party pooper. You already are Batman."

The boy smiled at this.

"Batman and Jinx."

"Jinx and Batman."

"We'll work on it."

[caitwritesao3]

“Hey Jason?” Tim padded across the apartment laptop open in his hand. “What is this?”

Jason pulled the earbuds from his ears raising an eyebrow. “Hmm? What are you- oh that, nothing.” He barely glanced at the screen before going back to his book.

Tim plucked the book from his hands and replaced it with the laptop. Pointing at the webpage. “Jason, you have a Zillow account and all that’s on it is you harassing landlords about their prices.”

“Yeah! It’s fucking ridiculous! Have you seen this shit lately?” Jason sat up clicking on one of the listings. “Look, look two bed one bath in Otisburg. 800 square feet, no laundry. The kitchen is the size of a closet and this asshat is asking for nineteen hundred a month!”

Tim crossed his arms shrugging. Jason frowned, clicking another listing. “Studio in Old Gotham, 670 square feet, one window! Laundry in the bathroom, the kitchen doesn’t even have a stove it’s a fucking hot plate! Guess how much!”

Sighing, Tim dropped his hands to his hips. “I don’t know Jason… $500?”

Jason licked his lips, his brows lowering. “Say sike right now… god damn. No! Twenty two hundred! Twenty two hundred dollars a month Timothy!”

“I mean it’s Old Gotham so…” Tim mumbled watching Jason’s left eye twitch.

“Upper East Side, town house. Three bed two bath, basement laundry shared with the other unit. Street parking, which they're charging extra for by the way!” Jason pointed a finger at Tim. “Three thousand seven hundred and ten dollars a fucking month!”

Tim flopped down by Jason’s feet on the couch. “Jason, I don’t see why you’re so riled up about this. You can’t just go calling people ‘leach sucking cunts.’”

“The parking is an extra $200 a month per car!” Jason screeched slamming the laptop closed.

“All of Gotham has adequate public transportation. Not everyone needs a car.”

Jason gently placed the laptop on the coffee table. “Timmy, when was the last time you took a city bus or rode the fucking subway?”

Tim pouted half rolling his eyes. “Irrelevant Jason. You still can’t go around calling landlords names and threatening them.” Tim squealed as Jason wrapped a hand around his ankle and yanked him half into Jason’s lap.

Looming over him Jason nipped his lower lip. “You’ve been half hard since you walked in the room baby bird. Clearly you think it’s hot.”

A flush burned Tim’s cheeks, he tried to turn away but Jason’s hand shot up grabbing his face. Tim breathed heavily through his nose avoiding Jason’s eye contact however he could.

He let out a low moan feeling Jason’s tongue trace the scar at his throat. “Okay fine! Yes I did think it was hot!” Tim admitted tipping his head further back once Jason let go of his face. Instead focused on leaving a deep mark under his jaw.

Jason popped off of Tim’s skin loudly. “You’re such a fuckin’ freak. God I love you!”

Humming Tim rolled his hips up grinding his full hard on into Jason’s thigh. “The landlord from Burnley, you’re not actually gonna put hair remover in his shampoo and steal his cat are you?”

Jason paused, resting his chin on Tim’s chest batting his eyelashes innocently. Tim hooked a leg around Jason’s knee, sending them both to the floor. Tim rolling on top straddling Jason’s waist. “Jason Peter Todd.”

“If Damian happens to have a new pet it’s not my fault!” Jason let Tim pin his hands next to his head. Tim briefly closed his eyes growling. “You gonna punish me for it?”

Tim sat back contemplating with his hands moving to hold Jason’s belt. “I don’t want to because you’d like it too much… but I also love hearing you beg and cry for me.”

[llillilholillill]

i want to read about jason todd of the arrowverse. I want to read about him crawling out of his grave to the world where batman, bruce, his dad, is not going to be in soon.

i want him waking up after the dip in a lazarus pit, feeling bloodlust[in arrowverse it is canon, thank you very much], meeting ra’s and nyssa and then talia. still getting trained by terrible monsters, people, who enjoy sufferings of others too much.

i want him to finish his training with all-caste, only to realize league is in shambles, some al sah-him and then al sa-her calling themselves next ra’s al ghul, with talia being banished.

i want to read about jason todd finding out his dad at whom he was so so pissed is missing. have been missing for almost two years.

seasons: 1 and ongoing

and gotham.

gotham is in fucking ruins, because there's no batman, there's no robin. there’s no alfred.

now there’s only him and barely there rumours of nightwing, protecting new york.

jason takes up the mantle. he takes up the legacy. and he hates bruce for it. but gotham and her streets are his home. even if he has to fight bloodlust tooth and nail. because he can’t. he can’t simply make another bloodbath. gotham’s streets are already soaked in too much red. and there’s still a difference for him between killing joker and killing black mask.

he tries to look for bruce, managing one crazy case after another, almost drowning in the filth that flooded the streets when no one had been looking. he tries to look for dick. for brother that hated him at the beginning yet started looking out for him at the end. but he finds a teen instead. genius teen who has so much photos of him as robin, of bruce as batman, of dick as robin and nightwing. of him as red bat.

his name is tim drake, he’s skinny and has no self-preservation skills, his parents are neglectful jerks that still love their son somehow. he becomes jason’s robin. red robin. light in the dark alleyways. hope in the hearts of gothamites. torn in rogues’ plans. safe haven in jason’s life that calms his bloodlust.

batman needs robin.

red bat, too, needs one.

even if stories about them are a hoax as far as everyone believes.

they hear from nightwing. or well more like jason gets jumped and almost electrocuted by him. thank fuck for red robin, his birdarangs and bright yellow cape. dick doesn’t trust him until he sees empty coffin and dna test. jason really can’t blame him.

year after kate kane finds the cave.

now there’s batwoman. more freaks. and more whispered rumours about existence of bats and birds.

then there’re arrow and flash in his city with flying alien in blue and red with ‘s’ on her chest.

and jason realises shit is going to go down, because it’s just a begining. there's no ending in sight, no bruce in sight.

only him, dick, tim, kate. and other vigilantes who know nothing about how gotham works so they really should get the fuck out of here right this second.

[mxtantrights]

Can you write a Jason Todd x reader where they knew each other before he dies but then they reunite. Maybe they were robins at the same time. Y/n has element powers and their eyes change colors based on element currently using. They are afraid of having too much power. Established relationship please!!! I cannot handle slowburns

Broken Bird comes home

the night Jason died was the worst night of your life. The worst. No other night compares to it. Not the night after you spend in the fetal position and crying. Or the night after the funeral where there was no body. Or the night on the first anniversary of his death.

Night time is the worst for you. You just remember getting the calls from Bruce and your whole world shattering. Jason was more than your friend. He was your first crush, your first kiss, first relationship.

He used to do this thing when you two would hold hands on patrol. Your gloves covered your wrists so he would sneak his thumb inside of the leather and rub the inside of your wrist. Something about wanting to feel your pulse.

You had stopped being Robin about three months before you found out Jason died. You never really felt like you could be as good as Dick. And Jason was the only reason you stayed on as long as you did. But even that had it's caveats.

Bruce relied on you and your patience and understanding way more and tried to get Jason to model himself after you. Even though you tried to be more like him, less rule following and more march to your own beat and ask for forgiveness later.

But sometimes the two of them would put you in the middle of their endless tiffs. It drove you up the wall. And one night you just decided right then and there to stop being a Robin.

It's not until after the first year past Jason's death that you decide to go back on the streets to fight crime again. This time it's very different. You don't have anyone to answer to but yourself. And you have no one to look up to anymore.

You don't pull your punches. You don't think in black and white anymore. Everything is gray. And you operate in the areas that used to scare you.

It isn't long before Bruce reaches out, because he's been keeping tabs on you. He asks if you're sure about what you're doing. And he tells you that you're always welcome to come back, as yourself not as a Robin.

You respectfully decline his offer. You hated him the first eight or nine months after Jason's death. You hated how he wasn't there. You hated how that clown just walked free and continued terrorizing the citizens of Gotham.

You actually got to run into him once. Tracked him down, got him all by himself. And delivered a beating that brought him so close to the pits of hell that even you got scared. Bruce showed up then, told you it wasn't right. That you couldn't take justice into your own hands like that.

His words had no affect on you. You hated him for letting the clown go free like that. And you hated that he had a new Robin already.

It's probably not until the third year that you find your footing. You know how to operate as a vigilante. You don't get too mad when you see the new Robin anymore. And you talk to Bruce to check in and still decline his off to join his team.

In those two years you get better at controlling your powers. Yo hardly used them when you were Robin. And after Jason's death you over used them, packing a few punches that moved tectonic plates underneath your feet. This was a balanced way of using your powers. You were coming to understand them.

And then your world shatters again.

One night while on patrol, you notice your being followed. So you take a few turns to lose them. But they're pretty good. So you decide to corner them into an alley way. One where you can confront them.

In the dark you corner your tail. He stands a foot taller than you. All that you can really make out is that red helmet of his. Nothing else tells you about him. He's even using a voice modulator.

You ask him why he's following you. He doesn't answer. You tell him to back off. He doesn't answer. You, at your wits end, run ups o him and are about to deck him when he grabs a hold of your wrist.

You try to pull back but he holds you. It's not that tight. He's not hurting you, you realize. He's just holding you. When you look down at your wrist, you realize that he's touching you right where Jason did.

You wrench your wrist away from him and take a step back. You're about to haul off a bunch of curses at him when he starts speaking to you.

"You're pulse." he says.

Your spine goes straight at that. Jason used to say that, why is this guy saying that to you? You moves to take another step back but you don't. You look right at him.

"Jason?" you ask.

The man starts moving at light speed. All at once the helmet it coming off. You see a tuft of white hair amongst the black. And then he takes off his domino mask. You see it in his eyes. It's Jason, it's your Jason, but it's not.

"How is this possible?" you ask yourself, taking a few steps forward.

When the tip of your shoes meet his boots, and he doesn't move, you take it as a sign that he's okay with you being this close. You hesitantly reach up towards his face but you take your hand back. You don't notice the storm clouds you're forming. Not until the rain starts coming down.

"It's me." he says.

You can't help the tears that come out of your eyes. Or how you start sobbing uncontrollably. Jason wraps you up in his arms. You feel your whole body start to go slack in disbelief. He's real. He's alive, he's here.

"I'm sorry I made you wait." he says.

You wrap your arms around him tightly now, "You're back. You're really back."

You pull back from him a bit, he looks down at you. You can read the worry in his eyes. You reach up and cup his face. He lets out a strangled breath.

"I missed you so much."

a/n: I had to stop myself before it came a behemoth and I dragged you on for a slow burn. this was really fun to write. Especially the elemental part! thanks for sending this in !! <3333

[takemetomyfragiledreams]

just another fic in my wip folder about kid!Tim and ghost!Jason:

Tim doesn’t get a chance to visit Robin’s grave until well after the funeral. He’s been waiting anxiously for the press to lose interest in the tragedy that is Jason Todd’s death, made popular only because of the man that adopted him. From what Tim knows of him, Jason would hate it, but Jason isn’t around anymore to call the press out on their behavior. 

It’s been raining a lot since the announcement. Gotham is always downcast; always inflated with heavy clouds and thick smog, but it’s been worse lately. The streets are constantly slick with rain, to the point where flood warnings have been going off on the television for weeks. It’s as if Gotham herself is in mourning for the bird that was grounded too soon. 

The graveyard grounds are thick with mud. With grim determination, Tim trudges through each sucking step. It’s hard work that leaves him panting under his raincoat. The earth itself is begging him to turn back but he’s far too stubborn for that. 

It’s dark which is why Tim thinks he’s alone at first. The flowers left on Jason’s grave are bedraggled from the storm. Tim’s seen pictures of the angel built into the stone but it’s different being so close. The gloom makes it seem taller, more severe. Rain drips down from its praying palms, washing away some of the mud creeping up the bottom of the grave. 

Tim rocks back on his heels as he takes it all in, suddenly unsure of what to do. He’s never been to a funeral before. He’s got no first hand experience with how these things go. There is only the constriction of his lungs, like a vice slowly closing in on his ribs, and the tears he’s cried since he realized the announcement wasn’t just a cover. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, though he isn’t sure what it is he’s apologizing for. For thinking Robin above death? He saw the Flying Grayson’s fall, he should know better by now that no matter how magical a person seems, they’re always going to be left shattered across the ground.

He blinks water from his eyelashes; is it rain or tears? Tim doesn’t know. He places his bouquet of flowers amongst all the rest. White orchids and blue forget-me-nots. You are always loved. You are never forgotten. 

It doesn’t feel like enough. 

He sniffles, sure that he’s crying now, and wipes a hand across his face. “Robin,” he whispers, like the secret it is. 

There’s a wet sucking sound from the other side of the grave; Tim freezes in place. For a moment there’s nothing but the pitter patter of rain, and then comes something like a sob. He approaches the side of the grave hesitantly to peer around the back. There’s a small body back there, curled up on itself and splattered in mud. 

Tim gasps and quickly rounds the grave. “Are you okay?” 

There’s no reply. 

He bends down next to the body. They’re shaking harshly; a flash of lightning shows that some of the patches of mud look darker, almost like blood. Tim hurries to pull his raincoat off to wrap around the stranger. 

“Come on,” he says, shivering as the rain begins to soak through his clothes. “I’ll help you, okay? You just have to walk.” 

There’s no reply but when he stands the stranger stands too. He takes their arm to lead them back the way he came, steps even more determined than before. It’s a task to fit two bodies on his bike but he hardly notices a weight difference. He squints through the rain on his way home, using all his concentration to ensure they don’t crash. His teeth are chattering by the time they arrive at Drake Manor so he can only imagine how cold his guest must be. 

“This is my house,” he explains, as he lets them in. He’s tracking mud across the floor but he’ll have to deal with it later. “Come on, I’ll take you to the bathroom so you can shower. You can wear my clothes.” 

Tim starts the shower for them when they say nothing. He makes sure it’s nice and warm before forcing himself away. “It’s ready. Use whatever you want, I’ll leave you clothes by the door.” 

Again, there’s no answer. 

He hurries through his own shower in the guest bathroom, mind racing with thoughts of what he needs. They’ll need hot food. Blankets, too. What if the stranger is in shock and that’s why they’re silent? He nearly works himself into a tizzy over the possibility and rushes back to his room. 

The shower is still going so he waits. And waits. And waits. 

“Hello?” He finally calls. The door creaks open as he peeks in. The room is thick with steam; he squints at the shape of his raincoat on the floor and looks further in to the shower. “Do you need help?” 

There’s no reply. Tim steps forward hesitantly; he knocks on the glass door before pushing it open a crack. There’s no one there. 

Here’s what Tim knows: there are only one set of footprints on the wooden floor. His bike didn’t feel like it had another person’s body weight on it when he rode home. He doesn’t remember ever touching skin or feeling any warmth from the stranger. They never spoke.

Hallucination? Maybe. But Tim didn’t move the bottles in the shower and he didn’t put his raincoat on the floor. Something isn’t right and he’s going to get to the bottom of it. 

Tim returns to the graveyard the next day. His nose is stuffed up and he’s got a cough from being in the rain for so long the day before, but he’s determined. Someone was at Jason Todd’s grave last night, someone who was definitely a child like Tim. Robin would make sure they were safe; Robin would solve the mystery. So Tim can do nothing less. 

The rain has washed away any traces of last night. The holes his feet left behind have been overtaken by puddles, which leaves him no way to look for a second set. He brings out the little hand held flashlight he brought along to search the gravesite. There’s no trace of anyone. 

Tim rocks back on his heels with a frown. He thinks back over his actions the previous day; he didn’t bring flowers this time, if this is magical in nature does that have something to do with it? He said words too, though he doesn’t think they were all that magical. Either way, he takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. 

“I’m sorry, Robin.” 

He cracks an eye open and feels silly when there’s no change. “Maybe it was just a hallucination,” he mumbles. “Robin would know what to do.” 

There’s a gasping sound from behind him. Tim whirls around to find a small figure bent double in the mud. He kneels beside them, hands hovering a few inches away from their skin.