#this has been living in my head rent free for years | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

444st4rg1rl · 1 month ago

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→ Decathect (v); To withdraw one’s self from someone you think you’re going to loose

→ Jason Todd x f!reader, 5k words

- Tags → Slowburn, (little bit) angst, frenemies to ???, ‘Hey we kinda know each other bc you work with my brother but we don’t mention it’, pinning, violence, more violence, reader just wants to figure shit out, this is the build up for part 2 guys.

- synopsis → You and Hood never really spoke much before, but when he comes in your territory to take down the corrupt ex-cop you’re both after; you don’t have much of a choice.

Part 1 , Part 2

Written in collaboration with - @samiyahcc

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Blüdhaven’s sky was choked with a layer of gray clouds, streets slick with the aftermath of last night’s rain, reflecting the neon lights from dive bars and the scattered police sirens in the distance. The air had a familiar heaviness.

You crouched in the shadows of an alleyway, eyes scanning the rundown warehouse ahead. Your breath was steady, each exhale visible in the cool night air.

The dim light of a flickering streetlamp cast harsh shadows across your face, revealing the half-mask that covered your lower face, the rest hidden beneath your hood. The sleek black fabric clung to your frame, reinforced with armor plating at your shoulders and forearms. Your boots silent against the wet concrete, moving as if you were a shadow itself.

You’d been tracking the local gangs’ movements for days now, and it had led you here. The syndicate was rumored to be involved in something big tonight—something that would send ripples through Blüdhaven’s underworld.

You weren't one for brute force; you preferred to gather intel first, to understand the scope before diving in. But tonight was different. Tonight, you’d finally get a look at the men behind the strings, and if things went according to plan, they’d never know you were there.

You adjusted your gloves, checking the weapons hidden beneath your jacket—a few smoke pellets, a set of throwing knives, a grappling hook—and then moved forward. Your footsteps were quiet, calculated.

The warehouse door was slightly ajar, a sliver of light spilling out. You could make out figures inside, though they were still too far for a clear shot. A low hum of conversation and the occasional clink of metal on metal echoed through the air.

Just as you were about to step closer, a voice cut through the air, low and gritty - unmistakable.

“I knew you’d show up.”

You froze.

Your hand instinctively reached for a throwing knife. Red Hood had a reputation—a violent, unpredictable, vigilante who didn’t care for rules, and certainly didn’t care for working with anyone. You’d heard of him, seen his work. He was exactly the kind of person Blüdhaven didn’t need—yet he seemed to be everywhere lately.

You lowered your knife but stayed hidden. You could feel your pulse quicken, a mix of irritation and something else—something you couldn’t quite place.

“Did’ya really think you’d get all the way in without me noticing?” Red Hood’s voice came again, closer this time. “You’re not as quiet as you think.”

From the darkness, he stepped into the dim light of the alley, his silhouette framed by the faint neon glow of a nearby sign. He was taller than you, broad-shouldered in his combat gear, his red helmet glinting under the light.

“You’re getting sloppy, doll,” Hood added, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Thought you were smarter than this.”

You clenched your jaw. “Is that so?” you asked, your voice low.. “What are you doing here, Hood?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he shot back. “I’m here for the syndicate. Same as you, I imagine. Only difference is, I don’t waste my time with intel gathering.”

“Gotham not have anymore crime?” You ask suspiciously, confused on why Hood has been in your territory recently.

“Gothams’ crime has run into Blüdhaven, I’m not here for you.” He shoots back quickly, defensively.

“Funny, I didn’t see you at the docks last week,” you replied, eyeing him. “You must have missed that shipment of weapons they moved.”

Hood’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment, the air between the two of you crackled with a familiar tension. You could feel the weight of his gaze through the glass of his helmet—sharp, as if he were looking right through you.

“I don’t play by your rules,” he finally responded, voice low and firm.

“You’re better off staying out of this.”

You raised an eyebrow, unfazed. “I don’t think I have that luxury, do I? Seems like we’re after the same thing, Hood. That ex-cop, the one behind this syndicate. You’ve been after him, haven’t you?”

For a brief moment, there was a flicker of something in Jason’s eyes—recognition, perhaps, or something darker, something angry—but it was gone almost as quickly as it appeared.

“That’s none of your business,” he growled, taking a step closer.

“You’re treading in dangerous waters. You’re better off going back to whatever hole you crawled out of.”

You didn’t flinch, standing your ground. “Last I checked, you were in my territory, Hood. If you want to get to the top of this syndicate, you’ll need more than just your ego.”

Hood was silent for a moment, weighing his options. He didn’t trust you—that was obvious. But you knew things he didn’t, and that could make you a valuable asset.

“Fine,” his voice was quiet and measured. “We’re doing this my way,” his voice rumbled through the helmet, closing the distance between you.

“Understand?”

You nodded at him avoiding tilting your head up, your stance relaxed but alert. “Sure. Your way. Just try not to get in my way.”

For a brief second, your eyes met. The moment passed as quickly as it came, and Hood turned back toward the warehouse. “Follow my lead.”

Without a word, you followed him into the shadows.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Inside the warehouse, the air was thick and stale, the faint smell of rust and mildew clinging to every breath. Stacks of crates lined the walls, some labeled with fading, cryptic codes, others bearing the marks of rough handling.

Flickering bulbs swung from the rafters, casting shadows across the cracked concrete floor. The occasional drip of water echoed through the space, a steady metronome to the tension building between you and Hood.

Hood moved first, his steps quiet but purposeful, his frame blending into the shadows. You followed, slipping through the darkness with a practiced ease.

You stayed just a step behind, close enough to catch his scent—a faint mix of leather and gunpowder—and notice the subtle shifts in his posture as he scanned the space.

He stopped suddenly, crouching behind a stack of crates near the center of the warehouse. You mirrored his movement, your gloved hands pressing lightly against the cool concrete as she leaned forward to peer around the edge.

“Three men,” Jason murmured. “One at the desk, two near the loading dock. Armed.”

You squinted, sharp eyes picking out the figures he described. The man at the desk was hunched over something—papers, maybe—while the others paced near the dock, rifles slung over their shoulders.

“Light security,” you whispered back, “This isn’t their main operation. They’re protecting something important, though. Look at the crates near the desk.”

His gaze flicked to the area you indicated - several smaller boxes sat stacked haphazardly, their edges pristine and their surfaces marked with the logo of a well-known tech company.

“Smuggling high-end gear,” Hood muttered. “Looks like someone’s got a taste for expensive toys.”

“Could be weapon components,” you added, brows furrowing. “Or surveillance tech. Either way, they’re funneling it somewhere.”

“Why don’t we ask them ourselves?”

Before you could respond, he moved.

Red Hood was fast—faster than you’d anticipated for someone his size. He surged forward, vaulting over the crates. You hesitated for only a moment, cursing under your breath as you followed, your movements far more careful.

The man at the desk barely had time to react before Hood’s boot connected with the edge of the table, flipping it sideways and scattering the papers into the air.

The man stumbled backward, hand fumbling for his sidearm, but Hood’s fist found his jaw first, dropping him onto the concrete floor with a single strike.

“Shit!” one of the men near the dock shouted, raising his rifle.

You moved in before he could fire, sliding low, your leg sweeping out to knock his feet from under him. As he hit the ground, you twisted, driving your elbow into abdomen. The rifle clattered away, and you snatched it up, dismantling it with a practiced ease before tossing the pieces aside.

The third man bolted for the nearest exit, but Hood was already on him. He grabbed the thug by the back of his collar, yanking him off his feet and slamming him into the nearest wall.

“Where’s your boss?” he growled, his voice cold.

The man choked out something unintelligible, hands scrabbling at Red Hood’s grip.

“Speak up,” Hood demanded, pushing him further into the wall.

“Wait.”

You stepped forward, placing a hand lightly on Hood’s forearm. “Let me talk to him.”

Hood glanced at you, his helmet betraying no emotion, but you could feel his hesitation. He let go, stepping back and crossing his arms as you turned your attention to the trembling man.

You crouched slightly, bringing yourself to eye level with him. Your voice was calm, almost soothing.

“You don’t want to die here tonight,” you said quietly. “And you definitely don’t want him to get involved again. So why don’t you make this easy on yourself and tell me what’s in those crates?”

The man swallowed hard, his eyes darting between you and Hood. “I-I don’t know exactly,” he managed to stammer out. “Some kind of equipment - High-end stuff! We’re just supposed to hold it here until the next pickup.”

You nodded. “And who’s picking it up?”

He hesitated, eyes darting between you and Hood, and you leaned in closer - voice dropping to a whisper. “If you lie to me, he’ll know. And I won’t stop him next time.”

“Rogers!” the man blurted out. “Detective Rogers. He’s the one running the whole thing.”

Hood stiffened at the name, fists clenching at his sides.

“Rogers?” You echoed, “Blüdhaven PD’s Detective Rogers?”

The man nodded frantically. “Yeah! Yeah, that’s him. He’s supposed to be here tomorrow night to check on the shipment.”

Hood stepped forward, looming over the man. “Where?”

“Here!” the man yelped. “He’s coming here!”

Hood’s hand shot out, gripping the man’s collar again. “If you’re lying—”

“I’m not!” he cried. “I swear!”

You placed a hand on Hood’s shoulder again, keeping your touch firm but not forceful. “That’s enough,” you said quietly. “He’s telling the truth.”

Hood released the man with a shove, sending him sprawling to the ground. He turned away, his shoulders tense and his breathing heavy.

You watched him for a moment, thoughts racing. Rogers. The name brought back memories you’d rather forget - memories of corruption, betrayal - and the realization that the system you’d once believed in was irreparably broken.

“He’s mine,” Hood said suddenly, his voice low.

You met his gaze, your expression unreadable. “We’ll see.” Without another word, Hood turned away, heading toward the crates.

You followed, mind already calculating your next move. You couldn’t shake the feeling that things were about to get a lot more complicated.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The warehouse was empty now, silence broken by the faint groans of the man Jason had left sprawled against the floor.

You were silent as you crouched down toward the crates, gloved fingers tracing the faint logo embossed into the wood. You could feel Hood’s presence behind you—he was impossible to ignore, even when he wasn’t speaking. His quiet contemplation filled the space.

“Rogers,” Jason muttered the name like a curse.

You turned your head slightly to glance at him. He was leaning against one of the crates, helmet tilted down just enough to cast a shadow. But you didn’t need to see his expression to know what he was thinking.

“You’ve got history with him,” you muttered - more of a statement than a question.

Jason scoffed. “You could say that.”

You stood, brushing off your gloves. “Care to share?”

As he turned his gaze back towards you, you could feel the weight of it, sharp and probing. “I don’t do story time, doll. Especially not with someone I don’t trust.”

You folded your arms. “Funny. You trusted me enough to let me handle that guy back there.”

Jason’s lips curved into a smile you couldn’t see, but was apparent in his voice. “Let’s not get carried away. I just wanted to see if you’d screw it up.”

You rolled your eyes, turning back to the crates. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“And you’re nosy,” he shot back, stepping closer. “What’s your deal with Rogers? You knew his name the second that guy said it.”

Your jaw tightened. “It’s personal.”

“Isn’t it always?” Hood quipped, his tone lighter now but still edged with curiosity.

You turned to face him fully, hood falling back slightly to reveal more of her face. Your eyes locked onto the crimson metallic mask, and for a moment, you considered not answering.

But there was something in his posture, the way he leaned forward just slightly, that told you he wasn’t asking just to push your buttons.

“Rogers was one of the reasons I left Blüdhaven PD,” you said quietly, your voice steady but quieter now. “He was dirty, feeding intel to the syndicate while pretending to be one of the good guys. I couldn’t prove it at the time, but I knew. And when I pushed too hard, he made sure I was… encouraged to leave.”

Jason was silent for a moment, head tilting slightly as he studied you. “That’s why you’re doing this? The whole brooding in the dark with a mask thing?”

You shook your head. “No. That’s - that’s different. He’s just… unfinished business.”

Hood took another step closer, close enough now that you could see the faint scuff marks on his helmet and the gleam of his armor in the dim light. He was watching you intently, and it suddenly became much harder to keep your breathing steady.

It was moment’s like this - when he was quietly analyzing you - that you noticed just how easily he dwarfed your figure.

“Unfinished business has a way of getting messy,” he said, his voice low but no less intense.

You didn’t reply right away, your gaze drifting to the floor for just a second before snapping back to him. “I don’t need your advice, Hood.”

“No, but you're going to want my help,” he countered, his tone almost teasing.

The silence stretched between the two of you. You could feel the tension building, the kind that wasn’t just about your mission or uneasy alliance. It was something else, something unspoken that neither of you wanted to acknowledge.

Hood shifted his weight slightly, arm brushing against yours. The contact was brief, barely there, but it sent a jolt through you that you couldn’t ignore. You glanced up, startled, and found that he was already staring at you.

For a moment, the world outside the warehouse seemed to fade away. You were acutely aware of how close you were, the faint rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, the way his broad shoulders seemed to take up more space than they should.

“You should keep your distance,” Hood muttered quietly, dipping his head to your level.

Your lips curved into a faint smirk, though your voice wavered just slightly. “You’re the one standing too close.”

He didn’t move. Neither did you.

You could feel your heartbeat picking up, could see the subtle tension in his posture. He wasn’t backing down, and for some reason, you didn’t want him to.

“What are you afraid of?” you asked tentatively, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

Hood’s helmet tilted just slightly, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “You think I’m afraid of you?”

“No,” you said, voice unsteady. “But you’re afraid of something.”

His jaw tightened beneath the helmet, and for a second, you thought he might push you away—end the moment before it could spiral into something you’d both regret.

Instead, he leaned in closer - close enough that you couldn’t help but inhale the familiar scent of his leather jacket. He had to know what this was doing to you. His own posture had shifted, no longer angry and closed off, but tense - almost eager. His voice was so low it was almost a growl.

“I’m not afraid. I’m just not stupid.”

“You’re infuriating,” is all you could manage to whisper.

“And you’re stubborn,” the grin behind his helmet apparent in his voice.

The moment broke when a loud crash echoed from deeper in the warehouse, snapping you both back to reality. Hood straightened immediately, hand moving toward his weapon as his body shifted back into a defensive stance.

You cursed under you breath, pulling your hood back up as you turned toward the sound. The moment was gone, but the weight of it lingered, hanging in the air between you two.

“Up ahead,” he said abruptly.

You nodded, expression unreadable as you moved ahead. Yet as you walked, you couldn’t help but glance over your shoulder, catching Hood lingering for just a second longer than he needed to.

The noise echoed again, sharp and deliberate this time, as if whoever was responsible wanted to be heard. You froze mid-step, ears straining for any further sound. Hood was already moving, his gun in hand as he took the lead without so much as a glance back.

“Stay behind me,” he ordered, his voice low but firm.

You bristled at the command. “I don’t take orders from you, Hood.”

He shot you a look over his shoulder, the faint glint of light catching on the edge of his helmet. “Fine. Walk in front, then. Let me know how that works out.”

Gritting your teeth, you relented, falling in behind him as you both crept toward the source of the sound. The back of the warehouse was darker, with fewer working lights, and the shadows seemed to deepen with every step they took.

“You think it’s Rogers?” you whispered, lost in thought of him. Trying to connect the dots.

“Too early,” Hood replied, his eyes scanning the rows of crates and shelving units ahead. “Might be someone who got spooked and came back to clean up.”

“Or set a trap,” you added grimly.

He didn’t respond, but the way his shoulders tensed told you he was already thinking the same thing.

As you both rounded the corner, a figure darted into view, disappearing between two towering stacks of crates. You caught the faint glint of metal in their hand—something sharp, maybe a knife or a crowbar.

“Split up,” Hood muttered, moving to the left without waiting for your agreement.

You hesitated for only a second before veering right, movements silent as you followed the figure’s trail. The dim light made it harder to see, but you could still make out faint scratch marks on the floor, signs of hurried movement.

You caught up with the figure near the far wall, where a series of smaller crates were stacked precariously. The person—male, early thirties, scruffy—was fumbling with one of the boxes, trying to pry it open with a crowbar.

“Hey,” you said sharply, stepping out of the shadows.

The man froze, the crowbar slipping from his hands and clattering to the ground. He turned slowly, his face pale and his eyes wide with panic.

“I-I didn’t see anything,” he stammered, holding up his hands. “I swear, I was just—”

“Save it,” you cut him off, stepping closer. “You’re trespassing in a warehouse full of illegal tech. I don’t think you’re here for the view.”

The man opened his mouth to respond, but before he could say a word, Hood appeared behind him, his gun pressed firmly against the back of his head.

“She’s not much for small talk,” Hood said, his tone casual but dangerous. “So why don’t you skip the excuses and tell us what you’re doing here?”

The man whimpered, his knees buckling slightly. “I-I just came back for something I left! That’s all, I swear!”

Hood rolled his shoulders, the movement causing his leather jacket to make a shrill sound. “Try again.”

“I’m serious!” the man cried, his voice cracking. “It was just a personal stash! I don’t even know what they use this warehouse for!”

You stepped closer, sharp eyes narrowing. “What kind of stash?”

The man hesitated, his gaze darting between you and Hood. “Cash,” he finally admitted. “I hid some cash here a while back. I didn’t think anyone would notice if I came back for it.”

Hood scoffed. “You expect us to believe that?”

“I don’t care if you believe me!” the man snapped, though his voice wavered with fear. “It’s the truth!”

You tilted your head, studying him. He didn’t seem like much of a threat—desperate and sloppy, sure, but not connected to Rogers or the shipment. Still, his sudden presence complicated things.

Hood seemed to reach the same conclusion. With a low growl, he stepped back, lowering his gun but keeping it in hand. “Get out of here,” he said coldly. “And if I see you again, I won’t be so nice.”

The man didn’t need to be told twice. He scrambled to his feet and bolted for the nearest exit, tripping over a loose plank on his way but not stopping to look back.

You exhaled, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly. “Think he was telling the truth?”

“Doesn’t matter,” he replied, slipping his gun back into its holster. “He’s not our problem.”

You nodded, though a part of you wasn’t entirely convinced. Something about the man’s presence felt… off, but it was less of a problem to worry about.

Hood turned to face you fully, arms crossed, “You okay?”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “I can handle one panicked idiot with a pipe, thanks.”

“That’s not what I meant,” his voice was softer now.

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in his tone. You hesitated, gaze trying to search his mask for any sign of what he really meant.

“I’m fine,” you said finally, though the words felt hollow.

Hood didn’t press it, but the way he looked at you—like he could see through every wall you’d built—it made your stomach twist.

“You don’t have to go after him alone,” he said quietly.

Your breath caught, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him. The words were simple, but they carried a weight that felt almost unbearable.

“I’ve been doing this alone for a long time,” you said, voice barely above a whisper.

Hood took a step closer, his hand almost brushing against yours before he caught himself and pulled back. “Maybe that’s the problem.”

The silence between you stretched again, heavy and charged. Your heart was pounding in your chest, and you hated how badly he affected you like this—that his words, his presence, could make you feel things you’d tried so hard to bury.

“We should focus on Rogers,” you said finally, tone sharper than intended.

Hood’s jaw tightened, but he nodded. “Yeah. Let’s do that.”

You moved toward the crates together, the air between you thick with everything left unsaid.

The night darkened as you and Hood pushed further into the warehouse. The air smelled of rust and oil, a heavy, suffocating scent that clung to everything.

Rogers had to be here—you’d pieced together too many clues for him to slip away again. Hood led the way, his boots thudding against the concrete floor, while you moved beside him, breathing steady and shallow.

You kept glancing his way, mind running in circles. It was the way he carried himself, the way his voice had softened earlier, how he'd almost reached out to you…You shook the thoughts away. There was no time for this now.

"Back corner," he whispered, jerking his head toward a section of the warehouse illuminated by flickering yellow lights. You nodded and followed. As the two of you approached, muffled voices grew louder.

You peeked around the corner to see Rogers standing with two armed men near a stack of crates. His slicked-back hair gleamed under the weak light as he gestured angrily toward one of the crates, barking orders.

"Looks like he brought backup," you murmured. Hood smirked faintly, pulling out one of his pistols.

"Doesn't matter. I'll take left; you handle the right."

"You always this bossy?"

"Only when it works," he replied, his tone playful. Without waiting for your reply, he crept forward, disappearing into the shadows. You hesitated for only a moment before slipping into position on the opposite side.

The plan was simple: take out Rogers' guards silently and leave him exposed. But things never went according to plan. One of the guards shifted just as you lunged forward, his boot scraping loudly against the floor. The noise made the other guard whip around, his hand going for his gun.

"Fuck," you hissed as you tackled the first man, driving your knee into his ribs before slamming him to the ground.

A gunshot rang out, the sound deafening in the enclosed space. Hood had already taken down his target, but now the second guard had him pinned, a knife glinting dangerously in the dim light. You didn't think - you just moved.

You hurled one of your throwing knives, the blade embedding itself in the guard's shoulder. He cried out and stumbled, giving Hood just enough time to twist free and knock him unconscious with the butt of his gun.

"Could've handled that," he muttered, shooting you a glance.

"You're welcome," you shot back, pulling your knife free from the guard's shoulder.

The commotion had drawn Rogers' attention. He was already backing toward an exit, his face pale but determined.

"Where you goin?", Jason growled, raising his gun. Rogers froze, his hands slowly lifting in mock surrender.

"Easy, Hood. We're all friends here, right?"

Hood's finger twitched on the trigger. "You've got about five seconds to explain why I shouldn't-"

A sudden burst of movement cut him off. One of the unconscious guards, barely conscious now, had reached for a detonator lying nearby. You saw it before Hood did.

"Quick, get down!" You lunged forward, grabbing Hood by the arm and pulling him to the ground just as the detonator clicked.

A deafening explosion tore through the air, sending crates flying and plunging the warehouse into chaos. The force of the blast threw the both of you against a wall.

Your head slammed into the concrete, and for a moment, the world spun. You blinked rapidly, trying to shake off the ringing in your ears. Hood was already on his feet, blood dripping from the bottom of his helmet.

His eyes scanned the debris and searched for you through the fog. As his eyes finally found yours, he rushed towards you, hands firmly grabbing your arms. Before he could even ask you managed to say,

"I'm fine," though your vision was still swimming, a throbbing pain in the back of your head. Rogers was making his escape now, limping toward a side door with a hand clutching his side.

Hood swore under his breath, his movements slower than usual as he sprinted after him.

You pushed yourself up, your body protesting every step as you followed. By the time you caught up, Hood had Rogers cornered in a narrow hallway, his gun trained on the man's chest.

"You don't get to walk away," Hood snarled, his voice low and gritty.

Rogers laughed weakly, face twisted in pain. "You think killing me solves anything? I'm just a cog in the machine, Hood. Take me out, and someone worse will take my place."

His hand trembled slightly, gun wavering. You stepped closer, gaze flicking between the two men.

"Hey," you said quietly to Hood, voice cutting through the tension. "This isn't about him. It's about shutting this whole operation down."

He didn't look at you, but you could see the conflict in his posture, the way his jaw tightened. Hood’s hand trembled slightly as you stepped closer - and, finally, with a frustrated growl, he lowered the gun and slammed the butt of it against Rogers' head, knocking him unconscious.

"He's not worth the bullet," Hood muttered. You exhaled in relief, but the moment was short-lived. A fresh wave of armed men burst into the hallway, shouting orders as they raised their weapons.

"Move!" Hood shouted, grabbing your wrist and pulling you back toward the main floor.

The next few minutes were a blur of gunfire and shouting. Hood covered their retreat, his aim precise despite his injuries, while you did your best to fight off anyone who got too close. They ducked behind crates, weaving through the chaos as the sound of reinforcements grew louder.

Hood’s movements slowed as he noticed blood seeping from a wound on his side, his breathing labored. You saw him falter and immediately doubled back, throwing yourself between him and the attackers.

"Go!" you shouted. "I got it!"

He glared at you but didn't have the energy to argue. He stumbled toward an exit, leaving you to hold off the remaining men.

You fought like a woman possessed, blades flashing in the dim light. But even you couldn't keep it up forever. Just as one of the men raised his gun, Hood reappeared, slamming into him with enough force to knock him out cold.

"Thought I told you to go," you muttered as you helped him limp toward the exit.

"And miss saving your ass?" he shot back, his smirk faint but genuine.

The two of you finally burst out into the open air, collapsing against the side of the building as sirens blared in the distance. Hood was slumped against the wall, his breathing was labored and wavered.

"You're an idiot," you said, tone harsh but it was an empty insult, as you checked his wound.

“Back at you" he replied, voice heavy.

The tension from earlier returned, heavier now with the weight of everything you two had just been through. Your hands stilled against his side, your breath catching as you realized how close you were.

"Don't," he warned, though his voice was quieter now, almost pleading.

"I'm not doing anything," you whispered, gaze locked on his, staring at your reflection. With a quiet sigh, you pulled back, breaking the moment.

"Let's get out of here," your voice came out unsteady. He nodded, though his gaze lingered on you for just a second longer. "Yeah, c’mon.”

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #dcu #dc comics #dc #batman #jason todd has been living rent free in my head for 7 years now

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