angie (she/her). 26 year old writer and lover of fictional husbands. đ minors and ageless/blank blogs will be blocked đ masterlist â fic recs
Don't wanna be here? Send us removal request.
Text
đ„ đ Eyes Like Fire đ đ„
Just a quick little edit...
This video is not made for profit. All rights belong to their original owners. ====================================== Music: "Take Me Back to Eden" - Sleep Token
#spectacular. amazing#very very nice to watch#when the song goes âmy my those eyes like fire while Baldwin is on screen with a fire lit behind him is PURE CINEMA#chefâs kiss#kingdom of heaven#king baldwin iv
33 notes
·
View notes
Text
no way ck3 actually used the silence pic for the achievement icon
21 notes
·
View notes
Text
you will never get true fashion inspiration from pinterest or tiktok. the most inspired you'll ever be to dress a certain way is when you spot a stranger on public transport in what is objectively the coolest most stylish outfit ever worn by a human being. you will never see them again but that look will haunt your dreams.
8K notes
·
View notes
Text
"You're a Jedi. I know what you're capable of. And what you're not." STAR WARS JEDI: SURVIVOR (2023)
462 notes
·
View notes
Text
LMAO I just found out that itâs Stress Awareness week.
93K notes
·
View notes
Text
I hope none of you disappear in the coming days. Seriously don't do anything that can't be undone.
83K notes
·
View notes
Text
knight in shining helmet | jason todd
Summary: You're a princess who's visiting Gotham City. You weren't loving it to begin withâthen you of course had to get kidnapped. Needless to say, your expectations of the night are in hell. You're hoping, at least, that you'll be rescued by the famous Batman. Instead, it's the infamous Red Hood that finds you.
Pairing: Jason Todd x princess!fem!readerÂ
Word count: 6.6k
Warnings/tags: kidnapping, rescue, reader and jason don't get along at first, violence, drugging, meet-ugly, 7-eleven food as a courting strategy, kissing, softie jason (he always makes an appearance somehow!), strangers to...not-so-strangers.
the divider
You suppose that, for a princess, you ought to have expected a kidnapping to pan out at least once in your life.Â
You just didn't think it would happen tonight. In Gotham City. A place you weren't loving to begin with.Â
âUnhand me!â you scream as soon as your taker's filthy, sweaty hand leaves your face. âYou'll be executed for this!â
You're not actually sure of Gotham's death penalty policy, but you feel like it's something you should throw in. In any case, the three men who've dragged you away, tied you up, and bruised you in the process, should be a little more afraid of getting caught.Â
âBatman will find you,â you add. âHe'll save me.â You've heard great tales of Gotham's hero. If anyone can help you, it's him.Â
That makes one of them pause. But the ringleader sneers at you. âIf he finds us. He's got a lot on his plate every night, ya Majesty.â
âI am a priority guest in this city, of course he wouldââ
âShut her up,â the leader snaps, and suddenly, you're being gagged. Disgusting. Completely unsanitary. You donât want to imagine if the gag has ever been washed.
You keep screaming and fighting through the gag until a needle pricks your neck. Your terror spikes as you realize there's suddenly an ultimatum to fear: what if Batman doesn't reach you in time?Â
That's your last thought as the drug renders you unconscious.Â
When you awaken, it's still nighttime. Nearly pitch black, except for a dim lightbulb in the center of the room. It looks like you're in some kind of warehouse. You can't see much of anything and it makes you claustrophobic. Your head aches and your vision is blurry, and your cheek is pressed against a grimy floor. You just want to go home.
You try to sit up first, but that nearly makes you throw up, and you do not want to throw up through this ratty gag. So you swallow the feeling and close your eyes, waiting until the nausea passes. You open your eyes and they begin to adjust to the darkness. Youâre alone, which confuses you.
Then you spot the explosives hooked up at the bottom of your dress.
The good news is that your kidnappers arenât here. The bad news is that the reason they arenât here is because they can remotely explode this place and you inside of it. If they donât get the ransom theyâre no doubt demanding, tonight will be your first and last night in Gotham.Â
Another thought chills you to your bone: what if the explosives are set to go off whether they get the ransom or not?
You squeeze your eyes shut as the tears come. Youâre going to die.
But wait. Maybe not. Surely, Batman is looking for you. And his young, brightly-colored companion. You never understood that color palette choice.
Theyâll save you. Your father has no doubt alerted authorities. Youâre the most important person in the city tonight! Of course people are looking for you.Â
Yes, youâll be saved, the criminals will be punished to the highest extent of the law, and youâll be escorted back to your hotel where you can take a long, luxurious bath. Thatâll be very nice.Â
Youâll also never visit Gotham again, that is for sure.Â
The door to the warehouse rolls open with a boom. You flinch and squint, trying to make out the figure. If itâs your kidnapper, you want to act like youâre still asleep. You think you saw that trick in a film at the cinema you snuck out to watch when you were young. You didnât catch the whole film, thoughâyou were found out by your guards before you could. Maybe you wouldnât be in this situation if youâd watched the whole film!
As the figure gets closer, you realize firstly that heâs a lot bigger than your kidnappers. You sigh in relief. Batman.
ââLo?â asks a gruff voice. âAnybody here?â
You shout through your gag. You canât make out a face, but itâs alright. Relief floods you. Youâre saved.
Your savior jogs to you. You tilt your head as you make out a⊠red helmet? With glowing eyes?
Wait a minute.
âHoly shit,â Not-Batman says. He pulls out your gag first. âYâokay?â
Realization strikes you; you recall a story one of the party guests shared earlier in the night about a crime lord and his terror on Gotham.
"You're that terrible gangster that left a duffle bag of heads!" you blurt.
"In the flesh," he says, tapping the barrel of his gun to his helmet in a salute. Red Hood. âYou donât look very happy to see me, all things considered.â
âI donât want your help!â you say, wriggling away from him. âIâm in an alliance with The Batman!â
He tilts his head. ââS that so? What alliance would that be? Beauty Pageant Runaways For Bats?â
âI am not a beauty pageant contestant,â you say hotly. âI am a princess, and I have a small militia looking for me.â
He kneels in front of you, holstering his gun. His one of many, many guns. Your skin itches with sweat and adrenaline as he approaches. Those glowing eyes in his helmet flip your stomach. This is all wrong. You're supposed to be saved by a hero, not an outlaw. A criminal.
âPrincess, huh?â Hood nods. âAh, yeah. I heard somethinâ about that. They took you from the Plaza. Just my luck that Iâd run into ya.â
âYou mean, you werenât actively looking for me?â you ask in a small voice.Â
âNope. Youâve got every vigilante and cop in the city looking for you, Your Highness. I came in here âcause I smelled motor oil.âÂ
Now that heâs found you, what does he plan to do?
âAre⊠are you going to release me?â you ask.
âDepends. Is this place rigged to blow?â
âMy dress,â you say, unsure whether you should let him know about the explosives. A man who leaves severed heads in a duffel bag doesnât seem wrapped up too tightly.Â
âHm?â Hood lifts your skirt slightly. He whistles. âDamn. This is some excellent work. Whoever did this is a pro demolitions expert.â
His praise doesnât comfort you, oddly enough.
âIs it live?â you ask.
âDoesnât look like it. And Iâve got a lot of experience with explosives. Just stay still for now.â
Hood squats and pulls out a knife. You shift. He's bigger than you even like this, crouched at your level. His shoulders nearly block your entire view.Â
âWho were they?â he asks.
âWho was who?â
âThe people that took you.â
âI don't know. They were wearing masks. Three men,â you say, frozen as he takes the knife to your feet.
âMm.â
Hood begins to cut the ropes around your ankles. You delicately point your feet, unsure if he'll slip and get you.Â
Your lip curls. "Where's Batman? Or that boy who works with him? Aren't they in charge of this city? I want to speak to one of them."
âI donât work for the Bats,â he says, an edge to his words.
âWell, I donât feel comfortable with you rescuing me,â you say. âYouâre a criminal.â
Hood stops cutting and looks at you. "Y'want Batman? Fine. I don't mind letting you wait around for the Bat.â
He pockets the knife and rises, walking out of the warehouse and disappearing. Just like that. Your heart jumps.
"Wait!" you shout, squirming in your binds. "Wait, come back!"
But it's silent. Panic digs its claws into your chest.
"Red Hood! Red Hood, come back! Please!"
You begin to cry out of desperation, tears dripping onto your already soiled dress. You try to pull your feet apart, but the rope isn't cut enough and all you do is worsen the burns around your ankles.
You bow your head and cry onto the floor. You just want to go home. You want your goose feather pillows and Egyptian cotton ten-thousand thread count sheets. More than that, you never want to return to this stupid city.
"Are you cryin'?"
Your head shoots up. Hood stands over you, arms folded.Â
"You-you came back," you say, voice wobbly.
He shrugs. "I had an inkling that you had a change of heart, princess.â
You look away. "You left me.â
"I did,â he says. âBut as much as you might deserve abandonment, I'm duty-bound to rescue everyone. No matter how obnoxious of a Batman fan they are."
"I'm not a fan. I just didn't want the morally corrupt, violent drug runner to save me."
He leans down and snaps away the ropes from your anklesâa feat of strength that doesn't go unnoticed. Then he saws the ones around your wrists. "Yeah, well, I don't do that anymore, and for such a pretty face, you suck at sweet talking."
He tosses the rope aside and pockets the knife. You rub your wrists and attempt to sit up. This time, you donât want to throw up. Success!Â
âAnything hurt?â he asks.Â
âMy legs,â you say miserably.Â
âOkay, let me rephrase: anything that'll make you bleed out in the next ten seconds?â
âUm⊠no.â
âFantastic. I can probably getcha back to your hotel in an hour.âÂ
You hold out your arms expectantly. He tuts.
âI donât give hugs until the third kidnapping. Fourth one is free.â
You huff. âYou expect me to walk like this? They took my shoes! Gotham is so uncouth.â
âAnd what am I sâposed to do about that?â Hood asks. âI look like a Payless to you?â
âI donât know what that is,â you say. âDonât you vigilantes have a protocol to follow? I cannot possibly walk through this filthy warehouse on my bare feet. Iâll catch a virus! Youâll have to carry me.â
Hood lets out a full-bellied laugh. Itâs somewhat eerie through his modulator. You lift your chin, maintaining your composure.Â
âOh my God! Highness, youâre a diamond-encrusted piece of work. I donât carry anybody unless theyâre unconscious and I like âem a lot. Itâs a short list.â
Your brows furrow. âIâm a guest in your city, and Iâve been kidnapped! The least you can doââ
âThe least I can do is leave you to rot here,â Hood says, tone cutting. âOr let your kidnappers come back and finish the job. You arenât in whatever palace they carted you out of; youâre in fuckinâ Gotham, and if yâwant my help, youâre gonna suck it up and walk.â
You look away, tears brimming once more. You sniffle.Â
âYou don't have to be so mean,â you say, voice watery. âIâve had a difficult night.âÂ
It's quiet for a few moments. You've never cried as much as you have tonight, especially not in front of a stranger. A dangerous stranger.Â
â...Look, I think I got some spare boots,â Hood finally says. âStay here.â
âWhere would I go?â you mumble. Whether he hears you or not, he doesnât reply, stalking out of the warehouse. He returns thirty seconds later with a pair of ugly, black, man boots.Â
âUsed?!â you ask, voice high.
âLightly, Your Majesty. Theyâre my spares. Here.â
Hood tosses the boots at you. You stare at them like heâs flung a pair of rats at you. He taps his wrist.
âTimeâs a-ticking, princess. Iâm on a schedule. I can always let you wait for Batman. Heâll find ya. Eventually.â
So you put on the boots.Â
You attempt to stand next, but the drugs and binds have made your limbs weak. You try and fail to get up twice before Hood hooks his arms under yours and hauls you up without a sweat. You squeal, fingers digging into his brown leather jacket.Â
He towers over you, doubly intimidating now that you're standing.Â
âGot it?â he asks, arms slipping away.Â
You definitely donât have it, and you wobble backward. Hood grabs you again, hand on your back.Â
âWhoa. Easy.â Hood cups your face, a little rough. You squirm, mind flooded with all the germs that are probably on his gloves. âLook a'me. Lookâstop fighting, Jesus Christ.â
âThis is no way to treat a princess!â
âYeah, I missed that day of training,â he says dryly. âStay still, I'm tryna see if your pupils are dilated.âÂ
âYour grip hurts!â
Hood loosens his grip and manages to keep you still long enough to examine your eyes. He hums and lets go.
âSeems like youâre still feeling the effects. Should wear off soon. NowâŠâ
Hood steps back, but not so far that you canât grab onto him should you fall again. He gives your dress a onceover.Â
âSo thatâs not gonna work.â He takes out his knife again. Your eyes widen.Â
âWhat on earth are you doing with that?â you ask, taking a small step backwards.
âCutting your dress,â he says, like itâs a perfectly normal thing to do.
You gasp, backing away. âNo you will not!â
âPrincessââ
âThis dress is one-of-a-kind, handmade for tonightâs gala. Youâre not going near it! It cost seventeen thousand euros!âÂ
âIs it worth more than your life?â Hood snaps. âI donât have any spare clothes and Iâm not dragging a ballgown with three pounds of C-4 attached to it around. You have to be able to move and you have to get on my bike. Now quit whining.â
You sulk as he cuts and tears the bottom layer of your gown. He isnât as savage about it as you expect: the cut is neat and could even be salvaged in the hands of a good seamstress. The night air makes your legs prickle with goosebumps. Then his words register.
âBike?â you ask as Hood sets your dress remains aside. Youâll grieve for your dress privately.
âMmhm.â
âI thought you had a Batmobile.â
âThatâs Batmanâs car. Hence the name. I have a bike âcause Iâm a morally corrupt, violent, drug runner.â
Your nose wrinkles. âCanât we take a taxi? Or call a car service?â
Hood snorts. âNo oneâs driving to this part of Gotham at this hour. Itâs my bike or nothing. Or, of course, you can wait for Batsy.â
He starts walking and you hurry to follow. Hoodâs strides are long and youâre unsteady in his too-big boots.
âCan you please slow down? These boots are enormous!â
He doesnât say anything, but he does slow down, waiting until you catch up before leading you to his bike. Itâs a nice motorcycle, you suppose, if you were into that thing. Youâve always thought motorcycles were a stupid risk to take. Being on the road is dangerous enoughâwhy remove the comfort and protection of a car?
Hoodâs bike is shiny and cherry red, just like his helmet. He produces a proper motorcycle helmet from nowhere and hands it to you.Â
âAre you sure this is safe?â you ask, inspecting the helmet. It looks fairly clean and unused.Â
âHasnât killed me yet, and Iâve been dead once.â
Is that his idea of a joke?
âYouâll be fine,â Hood says at your silence. âIâll go slow.â
âAlright,â you say, putting on the helmet. It smells oddly pleasant, like spicy cologne. âVery slow.â
âYeah, yeah, very slow. Câmon.â
Hood kicks a leg over the bike and straddles it, all muscle memory. His muscles flex as he bends his legs. He pats the space behind him.Â
Cautiously, you attempt to do the same, but you soon realize that doing that exact move in a dress is probably not the smartest. You hold onto the seat with both hands instead and clumsily try to fold a leg over. It doesnât work.
âYo, Bambi. This century would be good.â
âIâve never ridden on a motorcycle!â you say, glaring at the back of his helmet. âYou could help me.â
âFor fuck'sââÂ
Hood turns around, grabs the back of your calf, and pulls. Your legs part and you shriek, certain youâre about to flash him. He holds your waist as you flail so that you donât bang into him as you sit.Â
âWhat is wrong with you?â you hiss, smoothing down your dress.
âRe-lax, I didnât see anything.â
âThis is highly undignifiedââ
âYeah, we don't really do dignified in Gotham, princess. Comfy?â
âNo.â
âMm. Hold my waist.â
âI beg your pardon?â
âBeg all ya want.â Hood takes your arms and wraps them tightly around his waist. Heâs warm and, oddly enough, soft despite his bulk. âYouâre drugged and unsteady. If yâdonât hold on, youâre gonna fly off. Press up against me and hold tight.â
âGo slow,â you say again, obediently holding his waist.
âYeah, Iâll go slow,â he says.Â
âDo you promise?â
âPromise.â
Hood turns the ignition. The bike roars to life, louder than you expected. You suck in a breath as he revs the engine and starts off.
True to his word (and what a flimsy word it is), Hood goes slow. He takes gentle, easy turns and breaks at all the stop signs, even though this part of the city is essentially abandoned at this hour. Youâre able to study the streets, twinkling streetlights a little too bright to your recovering eyes. But you look anyway, shocked at the dilapidated buildings and uneven pavement. Youâre definitely not in the Gotham you were earlier tonight. It hardly looks like the same city.
You turn your attention to your savior. It feels like an odd word to use for the Red Hood, whom youâve heard enough about tonight. Your father had warned you excessively about what a dangerous area this was, and who exactly made it so dangerous.Â
But a savior is exactly what Hood has been to you. You decide that, despite his roughness, he still deserves a good reward. Perhaps a Hoodmobile. Or new boots.
Your rescue is going smoothly until you cross the bridge. Thatâs when another biker turns onto the road behind you.Â
âShit,â Hood says, and youâre startled that you can hear him so clearly despite the noise. Itâs like heâs in your head. âWeâre being tailed.â
Well, thatâs not good. You turn around briefly but you canât make out your follower; youâre too scared to move on the bike.
But then you hear the bike behind you speed up.Â
âMotherfucker,â Hood says, and speeds up. Your arms tighten into a death grip.Â
âHold on,â he says, like you'd do anything otherwise.Â
Hood speeds up and takes a sharp left turn. You tense and yelp, squeezing your eyes shut. He takes several winding turns and you keep your eyes shut through all of them. The nausea has returned and youâd prefer not to ruin the inside of his helmet with your stomach contents.
âWe lose him?â he asks when the road levels off and it doesnât feel so much like youâre on a rollercoaster.
âUmâŠâ you begin, and chance turning around.
Itâs clear for a few seconds untilâŠ
Well, to echo Hoodâs sentiment: motherfucker.
âHeâs there!â you yell, and Hood growls.
âThe helmets are micâd, you donât have to shout,â he says, leaning into a left turn.Â
âI see him!â you say, and grab one of Hoodâs holstered guns. He scrambles to grab it but misses, surprise slowing him down.
âWhat the fuck are you doinâ?!â
You ignore him and take off the safety. Moving your free arm up to Hoodâs neck, you fire. He curses up a storm, throwing in a few words youâve never even heard.Â
The shots go wide; one dents a parked car, and one hits a stop sign.Â
âYouâre fuckinâ nuts!â Hood yells and snatches the gun out of your hand.Â
But your tail falls back, evidently spooked enough by you and your poor aim. He turns on a side street and disappears.
âHeâs gone! Weâve lost him!â you say happily.Â
âAre you insane?âÂ
You wince at his volume. âThe helmets are micâd, you know.â
âYouâre soââ
Hood cuts himself off and pulls sharply onto the sidewalk. He dismounts and pushes the kickstand down hard. Then he turns to you, chest heaving.
âDonât ever fucking do that again. Are you crazy? You couldâve gotten us killed!â
âIt worked, didnât it?â you ask, putting out your arms. âWe lost him!â
âNo, we didnât. All we did was throw him off our trail a little. We gotta walk the rest of the way now because he probably fell back to get more guys to follow us. But thatâs not the point: what you did was insanely risky and stupid. You donât know how to use a gun and you couldâve hurt yourself.â
You stay silent, chewing on his words. Hood isnât wrong, heâs just⊠loud about it.
âDo you understand me?â he snaps.Â
You don't reply.Â
âI need a yes.â
â...I wanted to help.â
Hood sighs. âYeah, well⊠just donât. Iâm good at what I do and Iâll get you back in one piece. But you gotta trust me.â
âOkay,â you say quietly. You feel small, but you don't want to cry in front of him again and confirm that you really are just a spoiled, whiny princess. âI'm sorry, Red Hood.â
You sit down on the curb, feeling exhausted. Tonight is awful.Â
It's quiet for a long moment. Then Hood says, âDon't cry.â
Your jaw works as you swallow hard. âI'm not.â You turn your head so he won't see. Â
âChrist on toast,â he mumbles above you. âThis is exactly why I don't do rescue missionsââ
You sniffle. âI'm not crying.â
âââCause I'm the world's biggest asshole,â he finishes, voice miles softer.Â
Hood sinks onto the curb next to you. He scoots in just enough so that your shoulders brush against each other.Â
âLook, âm a jerk. The Bats are better at handling civilians and being nice. You got the potty mouth with a bad attitude.âÂ
You rub your eyes. âI don't like yelling.âÂ
âYeah,â Hood says quietly. âOkay. I'll try not to yell unless you're in immediate danger. But you canât pull stunts like that. Deal?â
You nod. âI won't fire any more of your guns.â
He snorts. âYeah, no kidding. Whereâd you learn how to shoot, anyway? I mean, yâdidnât do it well, but you did it. Not half-bad for your first time in Gotham.â
âMy father wanted me to learn gun sports,â you say. âI learned how to take the safety off and point and shoot, but I refused to do any more lessons after my instructor shot a duck for target practice. I think guns are uncivilized and destructive, and I donât condone killing animals for sport.â
âUncivilized unless you're getting tailed by kidnappers?â You think you detect a smile in his question.Â
âEverything has its exceptions,â you say primly.Â
âAin't that the truth. C'mon, we should get moving. We're, âscuse the saying, sitting ducks out here.â
Hood stands first and offers you a hand. You take it, letting him pull you up. He does that so easily. It makes your spine tingle.Â
âHow far are we from my hotel?â you ask.
ââBout two miles. If I had my gear I'd call for an assist,â he says apologetically. âWasnât planning to save lost princesses tonight.â
âI don't suppose there's any chance that you'll carry me, is there?â
âPretty and funny,â Hood says. âYou're the whole package, beauty queen.â
Your snarky reply is cut off by your stomach growling. Your eyes widen.Â
âPardon me,â you say, mortified.Â
âWhat, âcause you're hungry?â Hood asks. ââS a normal human condition.â
âYou don't know anything about royal manners,â you say, but you're relieved. Your father would give you a tight, deadly look if you were hungry in public.Â
âNo, I really don't. Born and bred Gotham, baby.âÂ
âShowing any signs of hunger or thirst around company is highly undignified,â you say.Â
âBeing a princess sounds exhausting.â
No arguments there.Â
Hood starts walking. You scramble to follow, and he seems to remember your shorter stride and slows down.Â
âThere's a pretty decent 7-Eleven nearby,â he says. âI'd take ya to my favorite diner, but we're on a tight schedule. Those guys wonât be far behind.â
âA seven and eleven? Oh, I've heard of those!â you say.Â
âIâm⊠glad you're so excited about convenience stores?â
âI saw it in a film once. My father didnât catch me watching this one. It looked so rugged, eating in a convenience store and fighting crime afterward. I've never been to one.â
âI know I shouldn't be surprised considering how much your dress cost but it does kinda blow my mind that you've never tasted anything but the finest cuisine,â Hood says. âWait, did you say your dad didnât catch you?â
You hum. âHe doesnât like me watching films that arenât pre-approved.â
âWow. Yâknow, I could pirate you some movies if yâwant. I know a great website for it.â
You laugh. âThatâs alright. I manage to sneak out to the cinema more than I used to, now that heâs older.â
âPretty sneaky, beauty queen.â He sounds impressed.Â
You shrug, trying to hide your pride. âIâve had a lot of practice.â
You turn on the corner and he leads you through a residential area. A few people outside of their apartments stare at you, but when they see Hood, they relax.Â
âRed!â a little boy shouts from a fire escape. He waves excitedly. Hood waves back.
âHope youâre listening to your ma,â Hood calls to him, mock-stern. To anyone elseâto youâit would be unnerving.Â
But the boy grins. âI am!â
âThen why aren't ya in bed, huh?âÂ
The boy shrugs. âNot tired. Who's the lady?â
âThe lady is a princess, so be nice,â Hood says.
âWhoa!â The boy gapes at you. You wave at him and he jumps up from the window.Â
âMom!â he yells. âRed Hood found a princess!â
You giggle as Hood leads you away.Â
He shakes his head. âKids.â He sounds terribly fond.Â
You stare at his back for a moment.Â
âThey like you,â you say. âYou keep them safe. But you're also a friend.â
âHelps to earn their trust,â he says gruffly.Â
You walk a little more in silence.Â
âI was wrong about you, Hood,â you say. He doesn't look at you.Â
âLotta people are. Nothinâ new.âÂ
No, it probably isn't.Â
ââKay, here we are. Câmon. We gotta be fast, alright?â
âAlright,â you say, following him into the 7-Eleven.Â
âHey, Benny,â Hood says to the tired cashier behind the counter.
Benny nods. âLong night?â
âYou got no idea.â He gestures to you. âSheâs a princess.â
âSweet,â Benny says. âWhatâs up?â
âHow do you do?â you say politely.Â
Hood leads you to the rolling hot dogs and other cylindrical foods under the heat lamps. You frown.
âI have had a hot dog before,â you say. âIâm not that sheltered.â
âYeah, but have ya had a buffalo ranch roller? My brother and I used to get these after patrol. That with a blue raspberry slushie? Heavenly after getting thrown into a dumpster.â
âWell, youâve gotten me this far, so I suppose Iâll trust you,â you say.
âIâm flattered. Benny, my usual.â
Benny gives a thumbs-up and puts the ârollerâ in a paper bag. Meanwhile, Hood takes you to the back where the slushie machine is. You watch as he fills a plastic cup with electric blue sludge. Your brows raise.
âWhy is it that color?â you ask.
âTasty chemicals,â Hood says cheerily. âIt wonât kill ya, I promise.â
âThat would be counterintuitive at this point,â you say.Â
âI appreciate your faith in me, princess.â
You return to Benny, who rings up the food. âFive twenty-seven.â
Hood looks at you expectantly. You look at him.
âWhat?â you ask.
âThis is the part where you pay,â he says.
âA princess never carries money on her person,â you say, like itâs the most ridiculous thing youâve ever heard.
âYouââ Hood looks at Benny and sighs. âWhy am I not surprised?â
He pays and you take your treats, trotting out the door.Â
âThank you, kind sir!â you say as Hood waves.Â
âSee ya, Ben.â
You hold out your slushie for Hood to take while you work on your fried goodie.
âIâm not a cupholder,â he says, but he takes the cup anyway.
âItâs warm!â you say, delighted. âLet me take a bite.â
Hood patiently waits as you bite and chew. You hum.
âGood?â he asks.
âI like it,â you say. âItâs unusual. Is this chicken?â
âSo they say,â Hood says. âTry the slushie.â
You take the cup and first take a small sip. Itâs cold and sweet and slightly sour and probably full of enough sugar to rot your teeth out of your head. You love it.
âThis is wonderful,â you say.Â
He laughs. âYup. Told ya, nothinâ like this combo. Itâs a classic. Câmon, letâs get moving.â
You walk and eat, and it definitely improves your night, having something in your belly.Â
âThis is just like Roman Holiday,â you say.
Hood snorts. âI donât think we watched the same movie.â
âIt has a likeness. Youâre Gregory Peck.â
âYeah, sure. If Gregory Peck was a street fighter, then yeah. Iâm Greg fuckinâ Peck.â
âNo, youâre right. Youâre much younger than he was in that movie. How old are you?â you ask.
âTwenty-four.â
âReally? Why are you doing this?â
âTook a career test.â
You bump his shoulder. âSeriously, Hood. Youâre young. Youâve so much potential. I can tell that youâre smart.â
âMaybe I like doing this,â he says.
You tut, shaking your head. âThatâs ridiculous. You could do more. Be more.â
âYouâre just fulla charm, arenât ya?â Hood says.Â
Your next step is hesitant. Hood keeps walking.Â
âIâm sorry, I didnât mean it that way,â you say. âI guess I assumedâŠâ
âYeah, I know. You assume a lot, princess. And youâre wrong.â
âYou made assumptions about me! You thought that I was stupid and naive and Iâm not.â
Hood stops, turns. âMaybe I like doing what I do, huh? Ever think of that? I meant it when I said Iâm not a criminal anymore. I help people.â
âI know that,â you say quietly. âI see how the citizens treat you. They like you. You care for them greatly. I just⊠I just meant that you could try new things too. If you wanted to.â
Heâs quiet for a bit. You keep walking.Â
âI didnât think you were stupid,â he eventually says.
You scoff. âYes, you did.â
âNo, I didnât. Yeah, I thought you were a little⊠sheltered. But youâre smart. Youâre certainly tougher than your dad gives you credit for.â
You roll your eyes. âHe still thinks Iâm six years old. It takes me getting kidnapped to see a city.â
âPretty shitty tour.â
You smile behind his back. âOh, I donât know. The tour guide is alright.â
Hood stops. When he doesnât speak, you approach.
âHood?â
He suddenly puts a hand over your mouth and drags you backwards into an alleyway. Your yelp is muffled. Hood puts a finger to where his mouth would be under his helmet.
Thatâs when you hear voices.
ââsingle fuckinâ clue. She could be in the fuckinâ Atlantic by now. Halfway to China!â
âChinaâs on the other side, dumbass.â
You look up at Hood, eyes wide.Â
Those are your kidnappers' voices.
He seems to understand and nods. He squeezes your arm and removes his hand from your mouth. He points to himself and points outside, then points to you and points down.Â
You assume that means stay put and donât try to shoot anyone with his gun. You can take a hint.
Hood slinks out of the alley. You peek your head out to look, curiosity overtaking fear. Besides, you trust Hood. You figure with a reputation like his, he can more than handle his own.Â
âNice night, ainât it?â he says.Â
The two men turn, looking close to pissing themselves. Good.
âHood, we werenât doing nothinâ!â one says.
âYeah, Ricky and I are clean!â
âOh, really? So you had nothing to do with the kidnapping of a certain visiting princess.â
âWe was nowhere near the Plaza!â Ricky cries.
The other elbows his friend. Before you can blink, Hood has them both down on the ground, pistols pointed at their necks.Â
âYou were gonna hurt her,â Hood says, and now thereâs no trace of humor in his voice. âThat poor, sweet princess. Strapping C-4 to her like a fuckinâ bank vault. Drugging her, tying her up. You fuckinâ animals.â
âIt wasnât our idea, it was Bobbyâs!â Ricky cries.Â
âShut up, Ricky!â
A shot rings out and you flinch. Ricky starts sobbing. Red seeps from his leg.
âThe only reason Iâm not killing you two right now is because I want a word with your boss. But make no mistake.â Hood leans in. âYouâll pay for hurting the princess. Iâll make sure of it.â
With two final hits, Hood knocks them out cold. The sudden silence is loud.Â
He looks at you then, those eerie eyes glowing. He beckons you out. You go.Â
You look down at the unconscious bodies. âYou donât have to kill them.â
âWhat?â
âI mean, Iâd rather you didnât. You shouldnât have that on your conscience.â
âThey kidnapped you. They wouldâve hurt you had their boss ordered it.â
You squeeze your eyes shut. âI donât want you to bear that burden, Hood.â
ââS not a burden,â he says, gently taking your wrist. Your eyes fly open. âIf itâll make you feel better, safer, anything. Itâs no burden.â
âOkay,â you say quietly, frightened at how pleased a part of you is at his words.
âIâll tie âem up and send for âem when we get back. One second.â
You watch as Hood drags their bodies into the alley like theyâre sacks of feathers. He handcuffs them to a drainpipe and ties their feet and gags them.Â
âSo they can see what it feels like,â Hood says, dusting his hands. You canât help your small smile.Â
âReady?â he asks.
You look up at the starless sky, suddenly exhausted. Your limbs feel like lead. âI guess so.â
Hood looks into the distance, then back at you. He sighs.
âClimb on my back.â
You blink. âPardon me?â
âYouâre pardoned.â Hood shrugs. âI can tell youâre tired. We donât have far to go.â
âWonât I be too heavy?â you ask. âAll that wayâŠâ
âPrincess, Iâm honestly offended. I once carried Batman and my brother to Bludhaven. Iâm more than capable.â
âBut what about your rule?â you ask. âAbout carrying people.â
âTurns out youâre not so bad,â he says. âGet on âfore I change my mind.â
So you climb onto Hoodâs back. He secures you easily, and you wrap your arms around his neck.
âDonât choke me out,â he says. âOtherwise weâre both goinâ down.â
You smile and relax on his back. âThank you.â
âMm.â
At first, it feels like an eternity, waiting for the familiar Plaza sign. You canât complain, though: Hood is warm and being carried by him is even better than riding on his bike.Â
You blink, startled at the thought. What are you even talking about? This is the Red Hood. You were terrified of him a few hours ago.Â
And yet, the rhythmic bumping and Hoodâs solid figure lulls you to sleep. You donât even realize until youâre being nudged and a voice pulls you back to consciousness.Â
âHey.â
Youâre gently jostled awake. You blink blearily, yawning into Hoodâs shoulder.
Oh. Right. Youâre on his back.
âHm?âÂ
âRide ends here,â he says. âWeâre at the Plaza.â
âOh.â Sleepily, you try to climb off. Hood sets you on your feet. Embarrassment fills you as you become more awake.
âIâm so sorry,â you say. âI didnât mean to fall asleep on you. You couldâve woken me! Iââ
Hood holds up a hand. âHey, chill out. âS fine. You had a long night, I get it.â
âRight. I, umâŠâ You look up at the hotel. The top floor windows disappear in the layer of fog thatâs settled over the city. You wonder what Hoodâs windows look like.Â
âIâm gonna track down your main kidnapper and make sure they donât hurt anyone else. Iâll kick his ass, at the very least.â
You look at Hood, blinking. âOh. Thatâs very nice of you, thank you.â
He shrugs. ââS my job.â
You nod clumsily. âRight, of course. I could give you something in return, though. Money or, um, firearms. A car, perhaps?â
He snorts. You smile shyly.Â
âCute,â he says, but heâs not being mean. âNo, thatâs okay. Iâm pretty set, actually. Doing what I do is surprisingly lucrative.â
âSurely thereâs somethingââ
âSeriously, princess, no charge.â
You bite your lip. Is this too bold? Yes, definitely.
âWhat about a kiss?â
At first, you think Hood hasnât heard you. Then he turns to face you in a way that tells you no, he definitely heard you.Â
âEx-cuse me?â
âUm.â You scratch your neck. âWell, princesses kiss their knights goodbye, donât they?â you ask, but itâs weak. Itâs stupid. Youâre so young.
You think heâs going to just walk away. That would be the kindest thing to do in response to your blunder.
âIâm sorry, forgive me. That was a terrible joke,â you blurt.
âNo, it wasnât.â
He steps forward, close enough to kiss you if he didnât have the helmet. You look up at him, heart pounding.
âWasnât terrible or wasnât a joke?â you ask, blood roaring in your ears.
Hoodâs quiet.Â
âHavenât done much kissing, to be honest with ya,â he finally says, not answering your question.Â
You shake your head. âNor I.â
âMm. And yâwanna kiss me? Donât offer âcause you think you owe me.â
âI want to kiss you, Hood.â
He tilts his head. âYâwouldnât be kissing a knight. More like kissing a toad.â
You frown. âI donât think so.â
âWell, Iâm no Greg Peck. And Iâm no hero either.â
âDo you give this speech to everyone who wants to kiss you?â
âYouâre the first one whoâs wanted to,â he says.
You inhale sharply. âOh.â
âUh-huh.â
You wait. He waits. You both wait for the other to back out. You donât. Neither does he.
âCanât believe a princess wants to kiss me,â he mumbles.
And then he covers your eyes with his hand.
You blink, lashes sweeping over his glove. You hear a click, then a hiss of air. His helmet hits the ground with a dull thud.Â
Hood gingerly holds your chin with his free hand. You keep your eyes closed even though heâs covering them, out of respect.
His mouth is warm and so, so gentle. You barely feel his lips at first, so you press a little harder. Hood doesnât know what to do with his mouth, resting it on yours, so you take the lead, following what youâve seen others do and what youâve watched on television.
You reach up and hold his face. He makes a soft noise in the back of his throat. You stroke his stubbled jaw, feel strong cheekbones and the ends of curls above his ears.Â
âYour Highness? Your Highness!â
The hand leaves your face so quickly, your eyes stay closed for a second longer, slow to react. Then you open your eyes and see the empty street.
Your lips tingle with heat. Itâs all noise around you, policemen and your guards flitting around you, asking questions, alarmed by your torn dress.Â
You exhale, disappointment overtaking you.
Your father is in front of you, taking your wrists. âCan you hear me? Doctor, I need aââ
âIâm fine,â you say, finally meeting his eyes. âIâm alright, Father.â
He exhales and pulls you into a hug. It startles you. He pulls away before you can hug him back.
âI am so glad youâre alright,â he says. âThe police say they saw a figure with you. Who was that? Was he your kidnapper?â
âNo, not at all,â you say, staring out into the street beyond. Your lips are buzzing. âHe was my hero.â
#this is the best piece of literature Iâve read in a while#so dear to my heart already#jason todd x reader
926 notes
·
View notes
Text
Careless Accidents
jason todd x fem!reader
aka you get hurt and jasonâs pissed
warnings: readerâs wrist is accidentally sprained from being grabbed to hard
You could hear scuttling from somewhere else in the garden, an estate more than sizable enough than the game afoot.
You were under the distinct impression though that the bats and birds are playing with you similar to how they would a child. Slower, weaker, and less experienced than the big kids. You weren't complaining though. Because, frankly, it was stressful. They tend to operate more like theyâre in a warzone than a game, you felt like you were about to be sniped out at any second.
Rightfully so, apparently, seeing how silently Stephanie had crept up on you.
âHey,â Stephanie hissed, ignoring the way you jumped. âWeâre doing alright for ourselves,â she said smugly.Â
âYeah,â youâd nodded, like you agreed with her more than you probably did.Â
âOkay listen, I think the flagââ what flag? ââis by the fountain so, I think because thereâs three of us and two of them, we should bait-and-switch.â
âWeâre on teams?â you asked, no longer completely sure you know what youâre playing.Â
âWe are now!â she smiled, starting to run. âIâll bait!â
She stopped briefly in her tracks and turned back to you hissing, âDonât trust Cass,â before scurrying away.
Rather than sit around and wait there forâŠsomething?...to happen, you jumped up darting in the opposite direction with little to no indication whether this is a good move.
What you didnât see is Cass rapidly approaching from your rear.Â
What you also didnât see was Dick crouched down in a row of shrubbery, which gave him the perfect opportunity to snatch your arm up and yank you down with him. Youâd mewled a bit as your wrist made contact harshly with the grass, immediately buckling under you.
Cass was keen to your pain immediately, slowing her sprint to a stroll as she observed you.
âAre you okay?â she signs.
âYeah, yeah, Iâm good.âÂ
The response was instinctual and you didnât actually have time to register whether or not you were okay by the time you gave it.Â
You pushed up on your elbows, trying to figure out whether Dick is even on your team, but the way the others approached had you halting consideration. Theyâre savvy to the situation at a speed in which you can only attribute to their vigilantism, looking at you with concern.Â
âYou good?â Tim asked, approaching languidly.
âThat looked like it hurt,â Cass commented, crouching down next to you to see your wrist better.
Dick shook his head, âNo, sheâs okay.â He turned to you, prodding, âYouâre okay.â
âYeah, Iâm, umâŠâ you winced, looking at your wrist. âIt hurts a little.â
Cass examined it closely, tilting it gently to the side. âIt might be sprained.â
Dick paled.Â
âNo.â
Tim pointed a thumb back towards the manor, âWe can get it wrapped upstairs.â
âNo.â
You were only then able to clock the barely contained grin on Stephanieâs face, begging to break. Â
âOoooh. Heâs gonna kill you.â
Cass had then kindly offered to take you inside and wrap it up for you, which you accepted, unexpecting of the plus-one of Dick trailing behind you like a guilty puppy all the while.
âYou know I didnât mean to grab you that hard right? IââÂ
Cass laughs quietly as she wraps the bandage around your wrist, amused by Dickâs now-third explanation/apology for the incident.Â
âI know, Dick,â you say, trying to appease him.Â
âIâm sorry,â he tells you genuinely, but you can tell thereâs more there that he isnât verbalizing.
You nod, âI know, Dick. Itâs okay. It was just an accident.â
Cass pins the wrapping in place securely and with a smile, signs to you that sheâs all done.Â
You rotate your arm a bit, testing your movement under the wrap. As Cass leaves with the first aid kit, Dick remains sat at your side, leg thumping up and down.
He takes a deep breath, âWhat ifâŠwhat if you avoid him until it heals?â
âDick.â
He takes your uninjured hand in his with urgency in his eyes,Â
He looks down at your jointed hands before loosening his already mild grip significantly.
âAre you going to tell him?â he asks, looking like heâs bracing for bad news.
You shake your head sympathetically, âNo. I canât guarantee you that he wonât find out, but I wonât tell him.â
Dick takes a deep breath, looking at the ground with intense focus. âOkay. Okay.â He stands, âI need to go.â
You watch in amused bewilderment as he staggers out the door, looking around frantically.Â
Within the next few minutes, he creates and enacts his plan A. He walks into the living room, sitting down next to a very disinterested Tim, eyes forward and serious.
âIâll give you two grand right now if you tell him it was you.â
Tim barks out, âAbsolutely not.â He looks at his brother, still laughing. âNo fucking way.â
Dick breaks the serious facade immediately, looking at him. âFive.â
A deadpan from Tim.Â
âYou donât have five thousand dollars.â
Dick throws his head back, back thudding against the couch. âDude, please! Heâll kill me!â
Tim scoffs, âHeâd kill me!â
Dick huffs, âNo, itâs different for me! Do you have any idea how many times he told me not to do that?âÂ
âWell then it sounds like you fucked up,â Tim sneers.
âOh my God.â
He takes off again, combing through different rooms in the house with hope of finding a quick but effective hiding place for, say, the next twenty years?
He bursts through the study, unwittingly interrupting Bruce and Alfred having a discussion over tea.
The latter sits up with a tense brow, âMaster Dick?â
The former turns around in his seat, âWhatâs the matter?â
Dick struggles for a second before confessing, âI accidentally sprained someone's wrist.âÂ
Bruce scans his face slowly, nodding. âAlrightâŠyouâll have to take responsibility for their patrol dutiesââ
Dick cuts him off with a sharp breath, âSaid person doesnât have any patrol duties to be affected...â
Bruce processes for a moment before shaking his head.
âI canât help you.â
Dickâs panic takes over again, prompting him to continue his scurry through the room, towards the other door.
Alfred interrupts his process with a very logical argument, âYou donât think running away will make this worse, Master Dick?â
âIâI donât know!â Dick whines, stopping in his tracks. âI donât know what to do!â
Bruce purses his lips, gesturing, âDick, when you make a mistakeâŠyou have to submit to the consequences, you know that.â
Dick gapes, âThis is not a normal consequence!â
Meanwhile, youâve busied yourself with fiddling with the knick knacks and mementos lining the shelves of Jasonâs childhood bedroom.Â
Youâre admiring a picture of him and Alfred from when he was young as the door creaks open behind you.Â
âSweetheart?â Your boyfriend calls out, head barely poked in through the crack.
âHey, Jay,â you smile, setting the picture frame back on the shelf.
He enters fully, covered in motor oil and grease, and smiles his sweet, easy smile when he sees you.Â
Moving onto the next trinket on the shelf, you pick up a stuffed animal placed intentionally at the front. Your gaze finds the mirror, watching his reflection as he pulls the stained shirt off his back.Â
You smile to yourself, noticing the way his back muscles flex as he adjusts. âHowâs the bike?â
âBetter than it was this morning,â he sighs. âWhereâve you been?â
He turns around to look at you, taking easy steps towards you.Â
You return the toy elephant to its place, moving to face him. âUh, we were outside, playingâŠat least three separate games at once.â
The second youâre in proximity, your hands join like itâs second nature.Â
He nods, all too familiar with the familyâs unique methods of gamefair.
âDid thââ He looks down at your intertwined hands, brow furrowing as soon as he spots the bandage wrapped around your wrist. âWhat happened?â
You glance down, shrugging. âOverexerted myself playing tag.â
He looks at you skeptically, but says nothing about it.
He turns your hand over gently, asking, âIs it sprained?â
You nod, relaxed. âYeah. Cass said itâs mild.â
âDoes it still hurt?â
âNo,â you say, sweeping his hair back with your other hand. âBarely hurt then.â
He nods, but he doesnât look satisfied with the conversation.
Regardless, he turns away again, shuffling through a drawer for a clean shirt.Â
âYou, uh, you wanna stay for dinner tonight?â he asks, pulling his arms through, his head following.Â
âYeah,â you say gaily. âAlfred said heâs making his âspecial spaghettiâ, apparently itâs a household favorite?â
He wavers, halfway to between decisions. âYeahâŠâ
He huffs quietly, turning back to face you fully. âCan I see it?â
You nod, happy to ease his mind.Â
You start to unwrap the bandaging, him doing half the work for you. The work is done silently until your wrist is exposed, revealing your bruised skin.
You both see it at the same timeâthe hand-shaped bruise wrapped around your wrist.
Youâre both quiet for a secondâhim putting pieces together and you waiting for the shoe to drop.
He takes off suddenly, clearly having come to a likely very accurate conclusion about what had happened.
âFucking idiotââ
You try for his hand but heâs out of reach before you can grab it.
âIâll be right back,â he grumbles behind him.
âJasonââ you sigh, âAt least help me wrap it back up first.â
He hesitates, halfway to the door, ultimately returning to you in defeat. He takes your forearm gently, scanning it over again before beginning to wrap it.
You watch his face closely, noting the clear vexation. âIt was just an accident,â you tell him.Â
He scoffs, âIt better have been.â
You drop your shoulders and lull your head to the side. âJason. Iâm not made of glass, you canât expect other people to act like it.â
âI donât. I expect him to mind his own strength, and if he canât do that, he needs to keep his fucking hands to himself.â
You sigh, âJust donât do anything harsh. Please. I think heâs worried youâre gonna punch him.â
âHe should be,â he says shortly. He finishes off the wrapping, pinning it in place firmly.Â
You grab onto his forearm before he can pull away, âYouâre not going to. Right?â
He doesnât answer so you try to make his gaze meet yours, âRight?â
His eyes roll, âYeah, fine.â
You smile, holding his face. âI love you.â
He huffs as though heâs inconvenienced, but confesses the obvious truth nonetheless. âI love you.â
He looks you in the eye, face serious. âYou promise me it doesnât hurt?â
âI promise,â you nod, brushing your fingers against his palm.
âDick!â
The angry voice bellows through the tall halls of the manor, heavy footsteps thudding.
He stomps into the living room, Tim, Cass, and Stephanie watching the entryway with wide eyes.Â
âWhere is he?â
Unwitting shoulders shrug and heads shake. Truthfully, at that. Dick, smartly, did not tell anyone where he was hiding.Â
Jason scans the trios faces, looking for any sign of apprehension.
He clocks the grin shamelessly plastered across his sister's face quickly. âStephanie?â
âI donât know,â she says honestly. âBut let me know when you find him, I wanna seeââ
But Jasonâs moving onto the next room before she can get the last words out.
He enters the dining room, looking right to left before finding his target, halfway to stuffing himself behind the fine china cabinet in the corner.
Thereâs a brief, tense moment in between where the pair realize what theyâre seeing and when Dick sets off in a sprint towards the kitchen, Jason quick on his tail.Â
âReally? Really?â Jason shouts.Â
âIt was an accident! It was a fuckingââÂ
He narrowly dodges a swipe from Jason, then ducking before a ladle could make contact with his head.
âAre you stupid? Are you the dumbest motherfââ
Dick rounds the kitchen island as fast as possible, Jason testing him on the other side.
Dick takes a breath, âDude, itâs fine now, itâs not that big of aââ
Jason recoils, ââItâs not a big dealâ? Come here. Let me sprain your wrist, asshole!â
He circles the counter quicker than the elder boy can think to move away and lunges at him.Â
Dick throws his hands up in front of him, âWait, wait, wait! Truce! Truce! Truce?â
Jason drops his shoulders, leveling his older brother with a look. âYou canât call a truce if youâre the only one who did anything wrong.â
âIâŠâ It doesnât take him long to piece together that his defense makes no sense, so he resorts to his last option.Â
âPlease?â Dick asks, nothing short of imploring.Â
Jason relentsâslightlyâupon hearing his brother's tone, but still finds it in him to shove him, though not nearly as hard as heâd been planning to.Â
âI told you a hundred fucking times not to grab her so hardââÂ
Dick nods heavily, waving a hand. âI know, I knowââ
âClearly you fucking donât!â Jason shouts. He huffs, running a hand over his face. âYou sprained her wrist. Youâve been doing this vigilante shit for fifteen years, how do you still not fucking know how to control your own strength?â
Dick grimaces, âI do! I do, I just screwed up, Iâm sorry!â
âDonâtââ Jason narrowly holds back a scowl, âDid you apologize to her?â
 âYeah, of course I did!â
For a split second, Jason looks ready to keep arguing before purposefully dropping the anger from his body.Â
The resulting relief almost drowns Dick.
It only lasts a moment though, before Jason looks at him again, sneering, âIdiot,â before pushing him once more.Â
âJason.â
Your voice has Jason dropping all turbulence in an instant. He and Dick both whip their heads towards the door, equally unexpecting of the interruption.Â
You tilt your head at your boyfriend with a knowing but disappointed stare.
He looks back at you like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar, lips parted.
âI didnât hit him.â
âïž your options are: (1) reblog fics or (2) be a little bitch âïž
#I love this so much đ©·đ©·đ©·#jason todd loves his gf#jason todd x y/n#jason todd x you#jason todd x reader
5K notes
·
View notes
Text
This was so perfect and heart warming and lovely and dreamy đđđđ©·đ©·đ©·
You have captured my heart so much with this story of doomed love đ„č
Every detail was perfect - the kitten walking around their feet in an infinity pattern was so special and symbolic đ I loved how you tied the cat and the relationship with Sybilla in the story from the polls đ„°
And the moments between Baldwin and the Reader were so sweet, they made me literally squee đ„č
Thank you so much for writing!! đ©·
KoH - To Rival Eden (Baldwin IV x Reader)
Fandom: Kingdom of Heaven
Pairing: Baldwin IV x Fem!Reader
PoV: Split (Baldwin - Fem!Reader)
Length: Short (<4k words)
TW: Vague mentions of leprosy
A/N: Well, here we have it, the much-anticipated sequel to "What Good May Come"! I took your feedback into account regarding Y/N's preferences, as well as circumstances and relationships, and created another chapter in this little romance. As in the previous story, I've done my best to keep Y/N as generic as possible with a personality that seemed to fit what is currently popular. I hope you enjoy it as much as the first, and once again, thank you all for being awesome! đ€
Baldwin could hardly believe his good fortune.
Tiberias had spoken truth: she loved him.
He hadnât slept a wink that night after she left his chambers. Had barely paid attention to his physiciansâ work as heâd given his failing body to their care for the hundred-thousandth time in his short life. Whilst his mortal shell continued its slow and endless march towards inevitable disintegration, his heart and mind were soaring above the clouds, his spirit filled with a fire he hadnât felt in years.
Lady Y/N loved him.
He lay in his bed, eyes staring up into the canopyâs shadows, yet unseeing of anything that was actually there. Instead, he saw her sitting before him as she had that evening, the smile dancing across her lips, the color in her cheekâŠ
Thus lost in his thoughts, all he had to do was close his eyes to still feel her warmth in his arms, the touch of her hand upon his own⊠still smell the sweet perfume that cloaked her in its allure. Even as his fears screamed at him that every moment he spent near her was a risk he was selfish to take, that the poison coursing through his veins could destroy her like some fetid rot devouring a perfect flower, all he desired was to hold her again⊠to imagine what her hair would feel like slipping between his silk-gloved fingersâŠ
These visions of her swirled in his mind all night long and into the next week, until he thought he might go mad with them. He had never thought much of the songs of the troubadours before, dismissing their melodramatic lyrics as nothing more than mere fantasy.
But now he had tasted that very pain of love of which they sang, and he knew they were right.
Love was insanity.
Unfortunately, it was an insanity he had to endure through nearly a weekâs worth of increasingly-numerous duties that forbade his interaction with anyone other than his advisors and court petitioners. Conversation on such matters proved his only respite, for when he was finally left alone once more, she haunted the depths of his mind.
And as his quill slowly glided through the practiced motions of his signature upon his latest letter, his aching heart wondered if he haunted hers the same wayâŠ
He hoped and prayed she had not taken offense to his exclusion of visitors outside his immediate council. It was all such ill-timing, and yet the administration of his kingdom could not wait for courtship. He could not afford the distraction of anyone elseâs presence amidst such delicate matters, and there were some things that he refused to delegate to others.
That he could not trust to others.
The thoughts of sharing those tasks with a queen he truly loved and adored above all else, howeverâŠ
Plunk!
He abruptly sat back in his chair, squeezing his eyes shut.
That was it. It was time for some fresh air.
Rising slowly to his feet, he reached for his hooded cloak where it hung nearby. Without even being asked, his servant Ihsan wordlessly appeared from the shadows to help him don it, moving with quiet grace.
âShall I accompany His Majesty?â the Christian Syrian asked, aiding Baldwin in pulling the hood over his head. Jerusalemâs sun was bright today, and harsh on the ill kingâs eyes.
âNo, I shall walk alone, I think.â
âAs you wish, sire.â
And loyal Ihsan melted into those shadows once more, as quickly as he had emerged.
With that, Baldwin began making his way to the palace gardens, keeping his pace measured as he followed the long halls, close to the wall should he need it for support. Alas, his numbed foot would allow for nothing else. Yet, even so, he didnât wish for this stroll to be a hurried one, crammed in between the endless sessions of his work. He needed time to center himself â to clear his mind and ease his heart.
His hood low over his mask, he still squinted against the sun as he emerged into the palace gardens. The strength of its rays had only seemed to intensify in recent years, even as their warmth had faded; his body hardly felt it, now, beaming down upon him, as if he had already hovered between the land of the living and the dead. But his eyes most certainly did, and he kept his head dipped low, his mask half-shadowed by the hood of his cloak.
Anyone else who had chosen to wander the gardens the same as he soon found themselves departing, as usual. The king was instantly recognizable, even cloaked like this, his presence garnering immediate notice by his courtiers. Their dread of his disease they always attempted to cover with pretense â the courtesy of yielding the space to their liege-lord as they offered deep bows and curtseys. Yet they always slipped away with the hiss of whispers swirling in their wakeâŠ
His lips twisted in amusement at the thought that his experience behind a mask had made it easier to see past theirs.
Thus, he largely ignored them as they bestowed upon him their customary greetings, their well-rehearsed gestures of obeisance. And the answers he gave in reply were just as superficial. They deserved nothing more. Little by little, they left as he slowly made his way along those meandering paths, bordered by every plant native to these lands, flowering or notâŠ
All but one.
At the end of one of the paths, perched upon a bench before a towering hedge, was Lady Y/N.
She sat with a small book open in her lap, her garb a simple green bliaut with a matching embroidered belt. A brilliant white veil over her hair, pinned to the barbette that looped beneath her chin, shielded her downturned face from the sun. Even from this angle, he could see the slight smile that played across her lips, and he felt his own mimic the expression beneath his mask.
The sight of her thus made him pause his stride, and he considered backtracking to the previous fork in the path and leaving her to her peace. Yet another part of him desired nothing more than to speak to her â to self-indulgently converse, even if only briefly, with this sweet angel of a woman heâd neglected for the sake of his divinely-mandated duty.
What resulted then, was an indecisive hovering, a prolonged pause at the bells of the lovely flowers that brushed his silken sleeve â blossoms whose aroma was now all but lost to his dulled senses. But none of the velvet-petaled jewels gracing this paradise of a garden now compared to the one he could not tear his eyes from, yet hadnât the heart to approachâŠ
================
Jerusalemâs palace garden was a sanctuary as peaceful as the cloister of any church youâd seen and perhaps twice as beautiful. The open air was filled with the scent of the exotic flowers that had been meticulously cultivated there, surrounding visitors in an alluring embrace. The cool shade beneath the towering hedgerows and elegant palms had been too tempting to resist, and, with a new book of poetry in hand, youâd made a beeline for an empty bench in the farthest shadowed nook you could find.
Gardens such as these were haunts for lovers, or so youâd been told. Some had even been designed in such a manner that encouraged clandestine trysts â a convenient niche here, a cleverly-planted bush thereâŠ
Alas, there were no such surreptitious visits in your near future. No, youâd merely come to the gardens this day for some fresh air and relative peace and quiet.
It was with great eagerness that you had rushed to the bench, sweeping your skirts beneath you and opening the book upon your lap. It was a loan, in fact, from Sibylla; the princess had been spending more time with you in the past week, indulging in light conversation mostly revolving around scholarly interests and pastimes. During the course of one of these discussions, she mentioned having received a few books from France and, quite unexpectedly, asked if you would like to borrow one of them.
Such a generous offer had been impossible to refuse, and your eyes had lit up as the princess passed you the small, leather-bound book of poetry, which you handled with utmost care.
The plan was to spend an upcoming evening sharing what the two of you had enjoyed most about the tomes over refreshments.
It was something you rather looked forward to.
Now, you were fully immersed in the book, your eyes drinking in the copyistâs hand as it swirled across the delicate vellum pages; it was a work of art in and of itself, to say nothing of the words it held within. So engrossed were you that, for a long moment, you failed to notice you were being watchedâŠ
But then, suddenly, a slight movement from the periphery of your vision caused you to glance up, and for a brief second, you thought you saw an angel. You quickly realized, however, that it was not.
The awestruck smile that tugged at your lips was perhaps a bit uncouth, but you couldnât help it. Angel he was not, and yet the king was still radiant enough that you wouldnât have been at all surprised to see a pair of wings upon his back or a fiery halo ringing his head. The hooded cloak he wore, trimmed in gold, was such a blinding white in the midday sun that it almost blurred his outline, and the half-concealed silver mask with its perfectly-chiseled countenance could easily be mistaken for the face of a saintâŠ
âYour Majesty!â
On reflex, you stood, abandoning the book on the bench before starting to dip into a curtsey, but the upwards flash of his gloved hand stopped you mid-movement.
âI require no epithets or courtesies from you, Lady Y/N,â he replied as he wandered down the path towards you. âI should hope that I may abandon such performance in your presence.â
The warmth in his voice heated your cheeks. âVery well⊠Baldwin.â This was only the second time youâd dared to speak his name without a title preceding it, and it felt oddly right on your tongue. âIf that is the case, then I must also insist that I am simply Y/N.â
His hooded head dipped. âOf course. Y/N.â
Something about the way he said your name made your heart flutter, and you glanced away briefly even as you sidled nearer to him. âIt is good to see you again. Baldwin. You are well, I hope?â
âI am now,â he replied softly. Now you could look up into his silver-clad face and see the glitter of his eyes beneath the shadow of his hood. In their impossibly-blue gaze you found a softness that belied the sharpness of their hue.
âI⊠missed you,â you breathed at last, your voice lowering. âI must admit, Iâve worried for you. Lord Tiberias assured me all was well, but⊠well, youâll forgive me for being a bit distrusting.â
A low chuckle emanated from him. âIf there is anyone you may trust with his honest assessment of matters, it is Tiberias.â
A chuckle of your own escaped you in response to his jesting remark before he continued in a far more serious tone, âI must offer you my sincerest apologies, Y/N â here youâve given me the most beautiful gift anyone has ever bestowed upon me, and Iâve done nothing but neglect you in return. Already, I fear I must seem a poor partner in courtship.â
Your mouth opened a little in shock at that. âAbsolutely nothing of the sort! I understand you are busy. I know you wouldnât have isolated yourself like this otherwise.â A light smile played upon your lips as you met his eyes again. âIâm just glad to see you again now.â
It was then you reached forth, brushing his nearest forearm lightly in reassurance. The damask silk of his sleeve was so very soft and smooth beneath your fingertips. And warm. Though from his body heat or the sun, it was difficult to tellâŠ
Suddenly, another movement out of the corner of your eye had you glancing past the king at a visitor on the garden path: a small tabby cat â silver with stripes of black â trotting along the hedgerow towards you.
âOh, look!â
You pointed, and Baldwin half-turned to follow your gesture, another quiet chuckle following once he realized what had caught your attention. âAh, a palace mouser, I see. Either that or a street cat has managed to breach the walls.â
His choice of words elicited a light laugh from you. âPerhaps he is a scout, then. Come to assess our defenses.â
The two of you watched as the cat slowed a few paces away, looking up at the both of you.
âMrow?â
It was a questioning little sound the tomcat made as he hunkered close, sniffing first at the toe of Baldwinâs shoe before doing the same at the hem of your skirt. For a moment he merely stood there, his banded tail a waving S in the air as he continued to take in king and lady with shining green eyes.
âMrrp.â
A quiet trill followed as the cat proceeded to bump up against your shin, tail curling about as he wound his way behind you before bumping against Baldwinâs calf in the same manner. He paused, staring upwards, and then he repeated the pattern, his path creating an infinity knot around both your feet.
âAww, I think the darling wants attention,â you cooed, bending at the waist towards the little feline as you held out your hand. You were rewarded with another bump up against your palm, whereupon you happily scratched behind the catâs ears, a grin plastered to your face.
âI would greet him as he wishes,â Baldwin remarked beside you, âbut I fear Iâd lose balance and keep going.â
You glanced up at him. âWell⊠we canât have His Majesty tumbling face-first into the roses, can we?â
âNo, I do believe that would tarnish my reputation for being upright.â
A snort escaped you at that. Baldwinâs sense of humor never ceased to amaze you â that he could find humor at all amidst his terrible suffering was a testament to his fortitude.
Confident that the cat was comfortable with you, you then reached for him, moving to pick him up, which he allowed with surprising ease. Palace mouser indeed, and obviously used to human company; you were certain no street cat would allow such familiar handling so soonâŠ
âOh, look, he has little gloves, like you.â
Your observation of the catâs stark white mittens, curled as they were overtop your arm, had Baldwin chuckling lightly once more, and he nodded in reply, his own gloved hand slowly approaching. âSo he does. Alas, I fear his bear weapons mine do not.â
He paused long enough for the cat to sniff again at his fingers â which he did â before gently stroking the top of the creatureâs head between his ears. Almost immediately, a rumbling purr emanated from the felineâs throat, his eyes half-closing. Despite the near tentativeness of Baldwinâs movements, the cat seemed quite satisfied with the attention, though a part of you wondered how much the king himself gleaned from itâŠ
âCan you feel that?â you heard yourself ask.
âBarely,â was the quiet reply, a lengthy pause following before he withdrew and added, âI relish moments like these while I can. There will come a day when I shall feel nothing with these diseased hands, glove or not.â
His words shot like an arrow straight to your heart. As much as you both tried to ignore it, to look past it, the truth of the matter was that Baldwin was slowly being eaten alive from the inside out, and it was only a matter of time before it utterly consumed him. Just this simple encounter with a sweet palace cat was enough to bring reality crashing down around both your ears.
And you hated it.
Swallowing, you cleared your throat and then bent to set the curious feline back on his feet. âLetâs let our intrepid little friend here continue on his way now, to do the noble work his kind has been mandated to do, yes?â
Once released, you gave the cat one final pat on his head and he was off, trotting away down the path before promptly disappearing under a bush.
âY/N?â
The softness of your name upon Baldwinâs lips suddenly brought your attention back to him, and then there was his hand on your cheek, cupping your face gently as his eyes searched yours. You could feel the concern in their depths, his gaze probing your own for answers. No doubt he sensed the shift in your mood â you never had been the best at keeping your emotions hiddenâŠ
âI wish I could do more for you,â you whispered before he could ask. âI wish I could⊠I wishâŠâ
There were so many things that you wished. You wished for him to be healthy again. You wished you could lift the many burdens from his shoulders. You wished you could rid his court of the treacherous vultures just waiting for his final breath to tear apart the corpse of his dream. You wished you could send his enemies running for their lives beyond the desert sands. Alas, you could do none of that.
But you could do thisâŠ
Without a word, you swiftly closed what gap was left between you, wrapping your arms around him in a tight embrace.
Instantly, he stiffened, his hands clamping to your shoulders on reflex, their grip tighter than you anticipated.
âY/NâŠâ
âHush!â you hissed, interrupting any warning he felt impelled to give you. âLet me do this⊠let me do it, and let yourself have it!â
You could feel him tremble in your arms, his breathing uneven. For a harrowing moment, he was naught but a statue, indecisive â no-doubt waging a war in his own mind, if you knew him by now as well as you thought you didâŠ
Whichever side flew the banners of Propriety and Precaution, though, evidently lost the battle, as a shaky sigh escaped him at last, a quivering hiss of breath between the lips of his mask.
âGod forgive me.â
And then, in a move that made your heart flutter wildly again, his own arms slid around you, pulling you into him and shrouding you in sun-soaked silk. The pungent scent of herbal salves alongside crisp linen followed, piercing past the exotic fragrances of the garden flowers, although you detected the distinct note of roses rising amidst it all â perhaps from the oils the physicians applied to soothe his ravaged flesh. He cocooned you in this warmth, the hardness of his mask as it rested atop of your head a sharp contrast to the softness of the rest of him. And thus he held you tight, tighter than you had expected him to, your ear pressed to his chest where you heard the quickened thumping of his heart.
For one blessed moment, nothing else existed. Perhaps he was an angel after all, just awaiting the wings set aside for him in Heaven. For here he held you in earthly Paradise amidst a garden to rival Eden, shining bright as the light of the sun that enveloped you both in its purifying rays, and you knew peaceâŠ
You heard the raggedness in his breath, however. The unsteadiness of his hold. Pulling back from him, you promptly swept his hands up in your own, tugging him towards the bench. âCome. Sit. Stay with me a while and forget your troubles, if only for a few moments. If you can spare them, at least.â
His regard held an almost painful tenderness as it met yours, his voice dropping to a silken timbre. âThat and more, should you but ask.â
Your eyes never left his, then, as you led him with ease to your chosen perch. Scooping up Sibyllaâs book, you made room for him to sit beside you there, and as he slowly settled himself, letting out what sounded like a sigh of relief, you were keenly aware that your legs were touching, hip to kneeâŠ
âDo you like poetry?â you inquired, choosing to ignore how your heart continued to race a little at his continued close proximity.
He glanced sideways, his eyes flicking downwards towards the book in your lap. âAs much as the next person, I suppose. Is that a new acquisition?â
You grinned up at him. âPrincess Sibylla loaned it to me, actually. Weâre planning on discussing it in a few days.â
He nodded slowly at that, seeming to approve. âMy sister is in need of good company. I am glad to hear you are getting along well with her.â
âShe terrified me at first,â you admitted with a laugh. âBut I think she truly wishes for us to be friends.â
Baldwinâs gaze leveled at you behind the mask. âAnd you were not terrified of me?â
The question was a soft one, wavering slightly, though from recent exertion or emotion, you couldnât quite tell.
A gentle smile tugged at the corner of your mouth. âNever.â
For a long moment, his eyes searched yours, and you couldnât help but let them. Their color, their shape, their intensity⊠they were so beautifully expressive that it didnât matter that his mask concealed everything else. When they looked at you, you were almost certain you could feel what he felt in your own heart. And what you felt now was more warmth. This time, though, it blossomed from within as those eyes relaxed into a half-lidded stare that was so much like that of the cat youâd just foundâŠ
Aware of the blush heating your cheeks at such a look, you finally tore your gaze from his and cleared your throat. âWould you like to hear a bit of this? Itâs rather goodâŠâ
âYes, I very much would,â he answered, his tone an almost distant one.
With that, you opened the book where you left off, taking a breath before beginning to read aloud. You hoped he didnât mind romances, as that was precisely what this one was â a chivalric tale of doomed loveâŠ
Any self-consciousness you possessed about the contents was banished, however, the moment you felt his hand curl around your waist.
It was so light a touch it barely registered at first. But then you saw the flash of white out of the corner of your eye, bright upon the green of your gown. Felt the slight weight of that hand upon the curve of your waist. Almost instinctively, you leaned into him in response, and his grip tightened a little.
âI am not hurting you, am I?â you asked quietly, concerned about the effects of any weight against his fragile flesh.
âYou could never hurt me,â he replied in a whisper.
And that was the moment you felt his head rest against yours as you continued to read.
Thank you all very much for reading! đI hope you enjoyed! âš And if you have any other ideas for Y/N, I'd love to hear them!
#Iâm sorry that it took me so long to read and review this part đą#life got in the way a bitâŠ#but really thank you so much for writing and for sharing this piece#it was so worth the wait đ„°#kingdom of heaven#angieâs fix reca
174 notes
·
View notes
Text
WIP preview of some upcoming art. I've actually got about 3 pieces in progress on top of my next fanfic chapter, lol. I'll finish one of them eventually... I think. đ
#THIS IS SO GORGEOUS#you are truly gifted both in writing and drawing đđ#he looks so ethereal and regal#I love the hood and the cape held together by the jeweled chain#thank you for blessing my eyes đ„č#kingdom of heaven fandom#baldwin iv
43 notes
·
View notes
Text
i think everyone has a version of gotham in their heads and i want to slowly draw mine...starting off with one of jason's safe houses.
in the comics it's super clean and modern but in my mind it's a bit industrial too. and no way it's going to be that neat if roy crashes there from time to time - i've seen how roy lives, i don't think he knows how to clean
4K notes
·
View notes
Text
You decide what things are important or not in your life. You decide what will give your life meaning or make you happy.
436 notes
·
View notes
Text
ăȘăłăŻ
245 notes
·
View notes
Text
++
Artstation
DeviantArt
Instagram
Patreon
pixiv
Twitter
368 notes
·
View notes
Text
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO JASON TODD AKA MY COMFORT CHARACTER #1 THE STARS IN THE SKY SHINE FOR YOU TODAY AND ALWAYS
5 notes
·
View notes