#jason todd reader insert
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something about jason todd with a touchy!reader s/o is literally so yummie.
You’ve got him on his stomach, regrettably, he thinks, as you watch the hills and divots of his muscles roll and flex as he gets comfortable. The scarred herculean expanse of his back is exposed to you as you sit on his butt.
“Dunno why I agreed to this,” he frowns, not bothering to move his head, unmuffling his musings.
He really doesn’t; ten minutes ago you two were having a very civil discussion (read: arguing) about something or other. Next thing he knew, he was in your bed, on his stomach, half naked and under you.
“Cause you like me,” you sing, breaking him from his thoughts, as you drag manicured fingers up his back, pressing into his taut muscle, deftly massaging each sore part of him.
“You like this. ‘S okay to admit it,” you add.
He gives a noncommittal noise that gets cut off by a strangled gasp when he feels your hands pressing into the upper muscles of his back.
There’s a deep discomfort that settles in his stomach; he’s never been touched so lovingly, not without hidden motives tainting said touch. He isn’t sure if he should push you off him or beg you to keep going.
You hum as you work his muscles, letting his inconsistent breathing and occasional gasps guide you.
You continue rubbing him down, occasionally pausing to apply more shea butter to your hands before resuming your work.
You reach up to his neck, as he sighs. You press just a hair harder, feeling a knot loosen at the pressure. Jason inhales, trying to steel himself from any possible reaction.
Regardless of his efforts, a low “Fuck,” reverberates through his chest. He internally frowns at the sound of his low whine, sounding like a wounded animal. He reddens as he hears himself, internally cringing at his neediness, at your willingness, and the intimacy of it all.
“That was pretty,” you murmur, teasing lilt in your voice. He’s fighting the urge to shut down this moment of vulnerability the two of you are sharing. You know he’s really pushing himself, so you try to keep the extra teases locked away for another day, another less intense moment.
You shut yourself up, instead focusing your attention to Jason’s expansive back. You press harder in the same spot, shameless in your attempt to illicit more noises from him as you whisper, “Give me another.”
He shudders, giving a shaky exhale as he composes himself.
“You’re evil,” he grumbles, despite almost leaning up into your touch.
“So evil,” You smile, “Totally evil.”
Not once does your touch on his back falter. He hums in agreement, softly smiling into a pillow.
“Incredibly evil,” Jason sighs. “Lucky I like your evil ass.”
“Aw,” you say, “Red’s finally going soft. I got you up under me and now you don’t know how to act. ”
Jason can hear the smile in your words. Choosing to ignore it, he closes his eyes and focuses solely on your touch.
“Yeah,” He mumbles, before pausing to consider his words, “Goin’ real soft, only for you.”
#jason todd#batboys x you#jason todd x reader#batboys x reader#batboys x y/n#jason todd x y/n#jason todd x you#jason todd x black!reader#jason todd reader insert#jason todd fic#jason todd blurb#dcu#batboys#jason todd fluff#jason todd drabble#my writing !🏛️🧁#i’m so sick i love this man.
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restroom attendant | jason todd
Summary: Tonight is the worst night ever--you just got dumped on your birthday, and all you want to do is cry in the restaurant bathroom in peace. That is, until, the Red Hood bursts in. This city just won't cut you a break.
Pairing: Jason Todd x fem!reader
Word count: 1.7k
Warnings/tags: humor, mild angst, reader's ex-bf cheats and dumps her, jason is such a silly goose, flirting, meet ugly, canon-typical violence, awkward jason, comic relief dick grayson.
A/N: this is probably the silliest fic i've ever written LOL! i hope you guys enjoy it. please support your local jason todd enthusiast and reblog :)
the divider
Tonight sucks.
With a shaky hand, you attempt to soothe your swollen eyes. You’ve probably been in here for about twenty minutes. Your Uber has definitely left, as has your now ex-boyfriend of three years.
Yoga instructor. It’s always the yoga instructor. They’re always fucking the yoga instructor.
You swallow a mouthful of tears and phlegm and try not to let the wet sink touch your dress. All you’d wanted was a little class on your birthday, maybe have some wine and play footsie under the table with your boyfriend. But no. That would’ve been too easy for you.
You’re starting to think this city is cursed.
The door slams open. The force of it shakes the bathroom, rattles the mirrors. You spin around.
A man slides across the floor and smacks his head on the opposite wall. Red Hood appears in the doorway, the eyes of his helmet glowing eerily.
Yep. Definitely cursed.
"Let's try this again," Hood says pleasantly, reloading his gun with a fresh magazine. "And in the interest of making myself transparent: when I ask you a question, Jerry, I expect a truthful answer."
He stalks over to Jerry and heaves him up by the lapels of his suit jacket. Hood's biceps bulge as he holds Jerry against the wall. You squish yourself against the sink. Water soaks the back of your dress.
"You're crazy, I didn't do anything!" Jerry shouts, feet barely scraping the floor.
"Volume, Jerry. People are trying to enjoy their meals.”
“Let go of me, Hood! I wasn’t anywhere near the Iceberg Lounge!”
“Yeah, see, words are coming outta your mouth, but they don't match the fact that I have three people who put you at the scene. How can we remedy this inconsistency? Any ideas?"
Jerry squirms, but he's no match for Hood's strength. Your heart pounds in your chest.
"Don't give me to the cops!" Jerry begs.
"Cops are the least of your worries right now," Hood snarls. "You're damn lucky Nightwing wants to talk to you, Jerry, or your head would hurt a lot more."
Slowly, you reach for your purse, trying to pull out your phone. Instead, you knock it to the floor. Tears gather in your eyes because this night just can’t cut you a break.
“Motherfucker,” you whisper.
Hood turns, those frightening white eyes now on you. Jerry also looks at you, legs still dangling.
“Hey,” Hood says without a sign of struggle. “Shit. Y'alright? Did I swipe ya?”
“No,” you say, voice shaky.
His posture softens. “Okay. I’m not gonna hurt you. Don’t be afraid.”
“I believe you. But, um… you're in the women's bathroom.”
Red Hood gives the room a onceover.
“Huh. So we are. Dunno how that happened.” He shakes Jerry by the collar. “Why’d you run into the women’s bathroom, asshole?”
“I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Don't kill me!” Jerry wails.
“Shut it, Jesus. I'm not gonna kill you. Not yet, anyway.”
“It's fine, I was just leaving,” you say, bending down to get your purse.
“Hey, no, don't let me push you out,” Hood says. “Sorry. I'll be gone in a couple minutes.”
Hood adjusts his grip so Jerry's face is against the wall, arms and legs restrained. Then he zipties Jerry and sits him down hard on the floor. Hood presses a button on his helmet.
“Yo, N, I'm at Prescott's. Yeah, with Jerry. No, I didn't tell him to run in here, he did that all on his own! Well, I chased him for ten blocks, so I’d prefer if you’d keep your bitching to yourself. Thank you… Okay, we're in the women's bathroom, so—well, I didn't do it on purpose! No, I’m—will you just come here? There’s a side window.” Hood presses the button again with a grunt. “Dickhead.”
“Are you gonna erase my memory?” you ask.
Hood jerks, turning back to you.
“What? Hell no, I'm not gonna erase your memory. I don't do that shit, I promise.”
You slump against the sink. “That's too bad. I would prefer it.”
He looks up from Jerry’s last ziptie and pulls it extra tight. Jerry whimpers.
“How come?” Hood asks.
You shake your head. “It's nothing.”
“Hm. Doesn't look like nothing. If you're in danger—”
“I'm not in danger. I…”
You glance at Hood. You can't see his face, but his body language seems genuine. From what you've heard, Hood isn't known for mincing words or doing things he doesn't want to. And he’s good to Gothamites. Well, the law-abiding ones, anyway. He’s even been endorsed by Batman.
What's the harm in telling him about your disastrous night? Not like you'll see him again. Or Jerry.
“I got dumped,” you say.
“Ah.” Hood nods. “Been there.”
Somehow, the idea of Red Hood getting dumped is weirder than him beating up a guy in the women’s bathroom of Prescott’s.
You sniffle, and wipe your eyes with the back of your hand.
“Yeah, um. It was our three year anniversary today. He took me here, told me he was in love with his yoga instructor, and then left.”
You tear up thinking about it. Hood makes a quiet noise.
“Shit. Well, I haven't been there,” he says. “But I know infidelity. I'm sorry. Dudes are trash.”
“And it's my birthday today,” you blurt, sniffling.
“Happy birthday,” Jerry says, clutching his stomach.
“What a fucking asshole!” Hood snarls, and lets go of Jerry, who crumples like a sack of potatoes. He’s out cold in a second, frozen on the floor.
Your brows rise. “Is he okay?”
“He’s fine. It’s his first time in Gotham.” Hood shrugs. “Anyway, where was I? Right, your asshole ex. Like it's not enough to publicly dump you, and then he goes and does it on your birthday? Who is this guy? I'll go talk to him right now.”
You laugh a loud, snorting laugh. It bounces off the tiles.
Hood tilts his head. “What’d I say?”
You catch your breath and wave your hand.
“No, nothing, I’m sorry. I’ve just had a crappy night and that’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever offered to me.”
“I mean it,” Hood says. “I’ll scare him if you want.”
“As tempting as that is, I don’t want to be an accessory to a crime.”
You also don’t want to put your ex in the ICU, no matter how much he might deserve it. Best to let the universe do its thing.
“You’d be acquitted, don’t worry.” Hood leans against the stall. “I’d never letcha go to jail.”
You smile, your ears growing warm. “You don’t even know me. What if I deserve it?”
“Nah. I got a good sense about people. I can tell you’re sweet. Probably don’t even run through red lights.”
“I try not to,” you say, heat spreading to your face.
“Yeah, a good girl. I figured as much.”
Your eyes widen. Hood coughs and rubs his neck. Even his coughs sound intimidating through the helmet, but that’s negated by his scrunched-up posture.
“Fuck. Sorry. That wasn’t a come-on,” he says. “I mean, it sounded like one, but I’m realizing what a creep I am, flirting with you in a bathroom with a zip-tied criminal. Sorry.” He shakes his head. “I hate myself.”
You grin. “It’s okay. You made my night better, actually. Thanks.”
“That’s a testament to how terrible your night’s been if I made it better.”
You shrug. “Could always be worse. I bet Jerry had an even shittier night than me.”
“You’d win that bet. But I—”
The window swings open with a clunk. Nightwing pops his head in. He looks at Hood, then you.
“Uh,” he says. “Evening. What’s going on?”
“What’s going on is it took you almost ten minutes to get here,” Hood says, back in Vigilante Mode. “Did you get lost?”
Nightwing smiles with all his teeth. “I was actually cleaning up your mess at the Bowery, Hood. You’re welcome.”
He looks at you. “Hi. Sorry about this. I hope we didn’t ruin your night. If there’s anything we can reimburse you for…”
You shake your head. “It’s okay. My night was already sunk. Don’t worry about it. Thanks for keeping Gotham safe.”
Nightwing laughs. “The pleasure is ours.”
“Alright, enough chattering, Dickwing,” Hood says. “Take him.”
He lifts the unconscious Jerry, pushing him up to the window. He does so effortlessly, his jacket riding up to reveal his skin-tight jumpsuit.
You look away before he catches you staring. There’s definitely something wrong with you.
Nightwing takes Jerry and waves at you. Then he disappears.
“So, uh,” Hood says. “I gotta go.”
“Oh! Right, of course. Sorry to keep you.”
“Now what’re you apologizing for?” he asks, and it almost sounds like a tease. You wonder what his smile looks like. What color his eyes are.
“Well, I really didn’t mean to keep you…”
“You didn’t keep me,” Hood says, and you can hear the warmth even through his decoder. “This is probably the best arrest I’ve ever made.”
He starts to climb through the window, then stops. He digs into one of the pockets of his belt and pulls out a scrap of paper.
“This is my number,” he says. “Well, it’s kind of the vigilante hotline. But you can reach me here, in case you ever need help.”
Hood walks over to give it to you. He smells like gunpowder and oranges. He’s even larger this close, the width of his shoulders dwarfing you.
“Thank you,” you say quietly.
He nods and backs up, clapping his hands.
“Right. So I’ll go… Bye.”
Hood looks at you for a moment more. Then he hops up onto the window sill and slides out, somehow graceful despite his bulk. The window closes.
Your dress has dried, which is nice. You walk out of the bathroom. It’s a miracle no one else has come in.
You get your coat and this time, when you see the empty seat across from yours, you don’t burst into tears, which is progress. You call another Uber and go to wait for it at the front. The hostess approaches you.
“Ma’am?” she says, and holds out a small, plastic container. In it is a slice of tiramisu.
“I didn’t order this,” you say.
“It was called in and paid for by a Mr. R.H. He wishes you a happy birthday.”
“Oh. Thank you.”
You’re definitely leaving a five-star review on Yelp.
#jason todd x reader#jason todd x you#jason todd x y/n#jason todd fanfiction#red hood x you#red hood x reader#red hood imagine#batman fanfiction#dc fanfiction#jason todd reader insert
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HALLWAY CRUSH JASON TODD (college!au)
↳ he's your boyfriend, but you've still got a massive crush on him
Four long, boring hours loom ahead of you when you walk to campus on Monday morning. Lectures all packed closely within the same building, on the same floor, you dread the day. Winter leaves your hands numb as you walk towards the building you’ll be spending your time in today, and you curse yourself for forgetting your gloves, sticking stiff fingers into your pockets.
There is only one other person in the lecture theatre when you walk in, sitting off to the side. You offer them a polite nod when their eyes meet yours, and continue up the stairs to take a seat, thankful for the warmth in the room. The both of you are early, and it’s quiet in the room as you take out your things, the faint smell of something lingering in the air, not entirely unpleasant, but peculiar in the way of old lecture halls.
It’s this smell you have to endure for the next two hours. When the hour draws closer to 9 and the rest of the few students who actually bother to show up to lectures in person begin to trickle in, you’re already fighting off a yawn and wishing you’d gotten coffee from one of the vending machines in the lobby.
You switch your phone on and off, peering down at the lockscreen fondly. The black and white photobooth strip stares back, three rectangular photos stacked atop each other. The dark haired boy in the picture winks through the pixels at you, and you hide a grin. When your professor walks in and begins to set up, you tuck your phone away, finding a bit of comfort in the pretty smile of a lover.
It only lasts so long, however, and you’re soon back to staring grumpily at a set of slides and fighting back tears at the strength of your yawns–you’ve gone through so many in the last twenty minutes it’s getting rude. It isn’t his fault, your poor old professor, that he speaks so slowly, or that you’re not made for morning classes. After yet another yawn, you rub your eyes tiredly, trying to make sense of what he’s saying.
The text comes through in the middle of your lecture, an hour into the history of corporations, and you flick your gaze down to the bubble that appears over your lockscreen. Your boyfriend’s contact photo accompanies the message, and you bite back a grin, reading the two words.
>> look up
Confused, you glance up to the door of the lecture theatre that looks out into the hallway, propped ajar with an old textbook. In the background, your lecturer takes a question, and you really should be listening, but you’re wondering whether the message was actually meant for you and then–
Jason, stupidly handsome, and bright eyed, walks past the door, peering in and grinning when you make eye contact. You just about jolt in your seat, unable to contain your own smile when he glances at your professor and shoots you a cheeky wink. Idiot, you think fondly.
He’s gone before you can blink, leaving you to return to the class once more. Only, how can you, when you’ve got to settle your silly little lovesick heart, grinning like a fool?
>> you’re so pretty baby
And just when you think you’ve got a handle on your heart, the butterflies spring forth anew with his next text.
i had to sit in the same lecture theatre for FOUR hours today can you believe. anyway made eye contact with everyone walking outside because i was so tired and i just kept imagining this stupid (affectionate) boy walking past and timing his text so you'd see him when you look up. because this is fanfiction. and i can make him do that!
this is separate from the last college!au piece but you can imagine it to be set in the same au if you want! i just think boyfriend jason in a college au is something that can be so special
#jasonsmirrorball#jason todd imagine#jason todd x reader#jason todd reader insert#jason todd fic#x reader#jay my heart#jersey boy au#jason todd college!au
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CHANGE.
— JASON TODD X FEM! READER
— AO3 | MASTERLIST
— WORD COUNT | 3.1k
— WARNINGS | mentions of weapons, smut, unprotected p in v, oral asphyxiation, biting, scratching, handjobs, fingering, fingerfucking, mentions of blood, cumming inside, use of aphrodisiacs (sex pollen), dubious content, overstimulation.
— SUMMARY | disobedience is strictly off the field in the militia, and just one slip up could spell your end.
— AUTHOR’S NOTE | had to wait all day to post this bc i got hit by a massive snowstorm. this is based off of arkham knight’s version of jason btw!
Steel. Smoothing coolness over your fingers and onto the metallic flow of your veins. Your eyes sweep frigid layers over the expanse below, narrowing down on one stranded wire amongst the mass.
Click.
“The main door’s open, Scarecrow. Ready to proceed on your word.”
Silence passes over the sea of crackles in the fuse box, dripping down to slither against the ground. Your eyes close at the breach of static in your ear, coiling three fingers against the box’s interior.
“Use the backup elevator on your way down. If it isn’t in working order, fix it.”
The call is lost to you. The world is dark and your senses are dulled by the residing pound in your head. Thick waves of raptured nerves pound against your skull, tightening against the surface and latching to the bone as a parasite would. There’s a muffled chorus scraping the barrier, forcing your eyes to shut tighter than you could ever imagine, fisting the other hand into your hair to—
“Stay focused.”
The illusion shatters, painting a revisited world of gloom and steady rain to your vision. Blood trickles from the inside of your cheek, running down to settle in your molars and paint your tongue with iron.
You brush his hand off of your shoulder without bothering to give a response, gums clasping together at the soft grunt that follows. The heavy clink of boots echo your descent into the abandoned mall, soft, yet lingering on your trail.
Just an hour had brushed past since Batman had destroyed the Cloudburst for good. Annihilated Scarecrow’s greatest creation and sent the Militia into complete turmoil in one hit.
You bite the corner of your lip, running a hand up your temple to soak up the light streak of sweat that had gathered there. The weight of such a rapid change of plans sits uncomfortable in your spine, weighing you down from the inside out. The Knight, on the other hand, seems completely unaffected by his own grave mistake. His stance is pin straight, pace overtaking yours within a matter of seconds.
And then he stops, reaching out to press the service button on the elevator in front of you.
You step into the elevator, gaze raking against dust and cobwebs as your hands grasp the railing supporting your back. The Knight almost mirrors your stance, only letting himself lean fully against the wall whilst his hands cross against his front.
“I know what you’re thinking.”
His voice is stagnant, devoid of the bark it usually carries. The very depth of it makes your skin crawl, and you’re hit with the feeling that it might sink into the bone. Slowly, your eyes trail upward, falling to rest on the LEDs that blaze back at you.
“You’re-“
“I’m not out of control.” He reads your mind to a tee, gloved fingers tapping rapidly against the arm they hold. “And I haven’t lost sight of the mission.”
Flashing, receptive, and unyielding. The scald of his mechanical gaze shoots daggers into your face, drilling a hole into the deepest parts that lurk within. You nearly flinch at the severity; his shoulders reel back in satisfaction.
There’s a tick in the back of your throat, latching onto your breath and spreading like wildfire throughout the rest of your body. The sight of him— acting so relaxed, so unbothered by the fact that he had compromised you all so effortlessly. Trapped you just as bad while he did it, and ended up in the same corner himself.
He was like a dog, thrashing against the leash bound to his neck. Always testing the limits at the expense of others. And when that post finally broke..
“You just wanted it so bad, didn’t you?” Anger. Your response comes through cold, throwing his guard off and allowing you a step forward. “You’ve lost sight of yourself ever since we got here.”
You’re standing right in front of him now, eyebrows furrowed together in a rivalry with the absentminded tilt of his head downward. Your chest swells with bile, held back by the sudden lurch of indignation that pushed you forward.
“Do you ever..” You pause, drawing a thick strand of breath from the bottom of your lungs. “..fucking think before you lash out? Do you even know why we’re going down here?”
Ding.
The pressure of your knife against his chest plate is swatted away in one swift motion. Tears threatening to keel over your eyelashes are held back with a rough tilt of your head, brushing away stray hairs and pulling your mouth into a tight line. The Knight’s arm is still extended towards the blade punctured through the wall, but he’s looking at you, and what was the threat to snap seconds ago is now confusion.
In the very last stretch of your peripheral vision sits Crane, behind him enough militia soldiers to kill you within seconds.
“The Hell..” He mutters, stealing a glance toward the mass of his men ahead. “You didn’t tell me about this.”
“We were afraid you’d run.”
Silently, you can’t help but feel the same. A sudden hesitation rising at the sound of Crane’s voice. There’s an edge to it that makes your skin prickle, and you glance back at the Knight. He’s looking straight forward, fists lightly clenched at the sides.
You turn away from him, stepping out of the elevator, and into the repurposed expanse that had become the Arkham Knight’s HQ.
He’s waiting for you with his fingers clasped, vials of fear toxin dragging at the cloth on his wrists. With a small nod, your militia soldiers disperse, heading for the other exit and leaving the two of you with him.
“Make it quick, Crane.” The Knight spits, crossing his arms to impose a threatening stance. “We have places to be.”
The modulator hides it. But you can see the way he’s placed most of his weight on the front end of his boots. Ready for something to let him off of his leash.
That was exactly why you were here. Crane knows it, you know it. The Arkham Knight had turned into something beyond the leader of the militia, and it was slowly costing you your chance at winning the war you waged. Snapping and snarling at everyone and everything for a chance to kill the Batman, with no clear sense of control. It was almost as if your commander had been replaced with a rabid dog.
He’d changed, and not for the better.
“You destroyed my greatest creation, Knight.” Crane’s tone blankets over you, condescending and twisting over your throat like a lethal serpent. “And you didn’t stop him.”
Your heart drops at his sudden change of direction, watching as Crane takes a step away from you. The Knight immediately reaches for his gun holster, and you’re quick to follow. Your attempt is simply laughed at, followed by the sudden intrusion of pitch darkness everywhere you look.
A sharp hiss simultaneously breaks out at your side, dousing your arms in a lukewarm breeze. You slap a hand over your mouth, but the substance is already sinking into your skin, leaving a trail of warmth as it spreads. The Knight swears from beside you, and it’s apparent that it’s reached him too.
The low flash of his modulator disappears with a zip, and you follow the noise with your own grapnel. Stumbling over a few railings and a staircase, you hear him stop, and light returns to your vision soon after.
The Knight breaks out into a coughing fit, and your eyes screw shut in reaction. What was once warmth is now an uncomfortable settling of balm throughout it the topside of your body, rendering your limbs pulsing and stiff.
“Fuckin- gas.” The Knight’s modulator rings out, muffled, bubbling with the crisp tone of his real voice underneath. “I feel like I’m on fire.”
Fire was an understatement. The sensation is unbearable, scalding waves of naught branching through your system to layer over, filling you with utmost dread at what Crane could’ve possibly dosed you with.
It’s worsening by the second. Another string of coughs from the Knight and it increases by what feels like tenfold, traveling down to settle in the pits of your stomach. You almost cry out when you hear him groan, burying your head into your arms and crossing your legs to lessen the heat.
And then you understand.
Crane knew he wouldn’t be vulnerable to any regular fear toxin. He knew the Arkham Knight was gullible when it came to seeing his mission through, and learned to reap the benefits in his own way.
That being, the violent shaking of his hands, back slouched and slid up against the wall to keep him up.
And you? What better way to test out one of his newest toxins with his partner right beside him? He could’ve used a sample that would’ve had you tearing each other’s faces off, but no, that was too simple.
This was worse. So much worse.
Your right knee hits the wall with a light thump, overturning one of the vials Crane had left behind into your hand. If there was any doubt in your mind before you raised the label eye level, it was gone within moments.
“Aphrodisiacs.” You scoff, tossing the empty glass into the distance. “I’m sure you know what that is.”
This was the worst way he could’ve punished you. Introducing fear in the loss of self control, sadistic rather than violent.
The Knight lets out a noise similar to the one that you had, pushing himself up against the wall before turning away from you.
“Great.”
There’s a strain to his voice that slithers into your ears, invasive and loud. It pushes its way past your esophagus, flowing down through your ribcage to pool at the center of your uterus. The sudden burn causes you to stumble forward, and by the time you’ve reached him, you’re nearly panting.
“Jason..” The call comes out dry, barren with a need to be washed away. “I can’t.”
You stop mid sentence, mustering a light groan as his hands latch onto the base of your armor, holding you firmly in place.
“I know, I know I know I kn…” His breathing is uneven, slurred words weaving around you in a delightful vibrato. “Take the helmet off.”
In that moment, your self control is ripped away completely. Your mind feels like it isn’t yours anymore, and you can only think about him, the Arkham Knight, Jason Todd. An animalistic desire erupts within you, begging for contact, for all of him at once.
Your fingers curl around his neck, index stiffly pressing down on the release button. As soon as the glass layer of his visor opens, you tug it off, clumsily setting it down on the table behind him.
The sight of him almost makes you lose it right then and there, twisting a knot of friction between your legs. Jet black hair coats his forehead in unruly strands, slightly damp along with the thin layer of sweat coating his face. And his eyes, iced over almost entirely with lust and mimicking a fatigued droop.
You’re interrupted by the sharp prick of his teeth, scraping skin off of your lips as they sink in. The breath you let out is cut off by the sudden intrusion of his tongue, shoved flat against yours and edging deeper still. It’s the aphrodisiac, wanting nothing but to consume you whole.
You can’t say you’re any different, as the loss of breath makes your hands work even faster on his suit. Pieces of armor are rudely dragged off and left to fall on the ground as you strip him of his outer layer, heading straight for the zipper once you’re done. Once you begin to pull, the Knight releases his hold over your mouth, gasping lightly at the wave of cool air washing over his exposed skin. You take his initiative of tugging your own zipper down to grasp his chin between your fingers, lifting up to dip your teeth into the center of his neck.
“Fuck, that’s it.” He breathes, running a hand under the lower portion of your bodysuit. “Don’t stop.”
The intrusion of metal against your pussy makes you gasp, front teeth dragging a rigid line down the Knight’s jugular. Spit paints sores of red and pressured white, covering his neck almost entirely before you move. Feeling his index finger run over your folds, you clamp down on the ridge of his collarbone. Tanged iron floods your taste buds, eliciting a muffled moan from the depths of your throat as you swallow greedily.
Blood streaks down the unshadowed part of the Knight’s chest as you retract, bringing a hand down to tug his glove off. Your spare reaches the end of his zipper, hastily clicking his belt off before dipping a hand under his waist. The inside of his thigh is searing hot, prickling under your touch. You can feel the pulse on the underside of his dick, unwavering and spilling beads of precum onto your fingers.
The stroke of your hand conjoins with the jerk of his fingers, causing the both of you to cry out in synchrony. You couldn’t feel any more full in the moment, yet, you need endlessly more. Your spare hand clutches a fist full of his hair, forcefully jerking his chin up to for another kiss. The scrape of your teeth against his makes you feel pyretic, the ignition of need on your body almost oppressive.
Your senses are almost lost to you as the Knight pulls away from your lips, leaving a deafening drum in your ears and your vision blurry. The only clear feeling is the shove of his fingers deep in your walls, twisting in a pattern that makes your head hang back. You can feel his cock throb violently in your fist, and the stretch of his fingers brings you right there. Your hand smoothes over the tip as he coats your stomach, feeling yourself gush over his fingers moments later.
Your panting is cut short by the abrupt shove of the Knight’s fingers in your mouth, lathering you in your own seed. The brush of his cock over your clit makes you whimper, biting down on his fingers to ease the scorch. Yet, you crave it all the same, tugging his fingers out of your mouth to stuff his own.
“Come on.” You cough, fingers curling against his tongue. “Fill me up, Jason.”
A brash moan cuts through the release of your fingers as he sinks down into you.
“Shit.” His breathing is nothing short of labored gasps, sliding you closer to his chest. “Need to feel all of you, sweetheart.”
You’d expect no less sweet talk from him even under such a nefarious high, words smoothing over you like a fresh douse of water. The pair of soft murmurs of how good you feel and the stretch of his cock fills you with a warm haze, evaporating in layers with each drag of him against your walls. Desire swiftly replaces the serenity, and you suddenly feel like the pace is too much. Your fingers run under his suit’s collar, nails digging into the plain of his back.
“More.” You mewl, dragging a course line through his shoulder blades. “Ah- give me- more.”
The Knight quickly obeys, picking you up by the plush of your ass and setting you against the edge of a table. Sultry invades every part of you as he burrows even further, and you feel like he might reach your intestines at this rate. He has you curled up against his waist, relentlessly pistoning into your cervix.
It’s all too fast— too much and too little all at the same time. The slap of skin against skin grows sloppier as your juices spill over his cock, winding the coil in your abdomen further than you thought it could go. You cry out as he practically manhandles you, curling your back further so you can take more of him. You can feel his skin cake under your fingernails at the pressure, and you’re forced to lick the salty trail of fresh tears as they trail helplessly down your face.
He paints your insides with ecstasy for the third time, and all you can feel is how full you are. Remnants of his seed drip out of your pussy and down your leg, something you’d certainly never felt before now. Even you knew the Arkham Knight wasn’t capable of holding you over the edge for this long— at least, not when his mind was his.
Over an hour had passed by now. You could feel desire being sucked from your body with each coming orgasm, eyes shut tight to prevent the tears from blurring your vision. The Knight had slowed down tremendously, having set you further against the table as he stretched you slowest he had all night.
“One more.” His voice is reduced to a complete rasp, eyes bloodshot and lashes dripping with tears. “It’s.. almost out.”
You nod, teeth grinding together as the adrenaline wears off and reality sets back in. The Knight’s fingers no longer burn your skin on contact, and he holds you still as he rides out his last orgasm.
The pounding in your head resides, and you’re left with nothing but the light chorus of your mixed pants and the soft squelch of his dick slipping out of you. Every inch of your skin is dewed with sweat, and a sore sits deep within the pits of your stomach, throbbing painfully in between your legs.
“Shit.”
You slowly zip your suit up, only managing to slide yourself off of the table before you’re sent tumbling over. The Knight feebly pulls you into his side, allowing the both of you to slide against the wall and onto the ground.
A glance is shared between you, and a sudden heat breaches your cheeks.
“Shit.” He mirrors, running a hand through dampened locks of hair shadowing his eyes. “Crane knew what he was doing.”
You saw it, too. The exhausted crease of his eyelids, the absolute agony running through your entire system. He’d planned this perfectly.
This hadn’t fixed anything, but you were too tired to shatter the peace you felt now, even if it was momentary.
“Hope you learned your lesson.”
He attempts to harden, scrutinize you with every ounce of energy he has left. The exertion leaves his head flush against your shoulder, and you run a hand over the scar on his cheek before you’re spent as well. His breath stalls at your touch, and only for a moment, you can feel the skin on his face tug upward.
“Maybe.”
#arqhms#arqhmsthirst#jason todd#jason todd x reader#jason todd x fem!reader#arkham knight x reader#arkhamverse#arkham knight smut#jason todd smut#jason todd fanfiction#jason todd x you#jason todd reader insert#jason todd x y/n#batman arkham knight
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Pt. 1
Dick: so how's married life?
Y/N: it's good, but Jason got really drunk and tried to set our marriage certificate on fire.
Dick: WHAT?
Y/N: he said 'good luck trying to return me without a receipt!'
#jason todd x you#jason todd x reader fluff#jason todd x reader insert#jason todd x fem!reader#jason todd x reader#jason todd x brown!reader#jason todd x female!reader#jason todd x gender neutral reader#jason todd x poc!reader#jason todd x male reader#jason todd x y/n#dc comics#incorrect batfamily#dc incorrect quotes#jason todd reader insert#batfam incorrect quotes#incorrect batfam#batman incorrect quotes#dc reader insert
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meet cut(e) | jason todd
the worst thing about love (two) / (one)
you’re just trying to get through your surgical residency, but this masked vigilante keeps showing up half-dead on your fire escape and reminding you of your dead best friend. oh well, at least he's cute.
tw: allusions to character death, depictions of grief, mentions of blood and injuries, swearing, completely ooc Jason but he’s like my own lil character now and I’m protective, i learned my medical terminology from grey's anatomy don't hate me
only jerks steal other people's writing (just don't repost, mate)
You’re awake when he stumbles into your apartment two weeks later. You stare at him owlishly; knees tucked up against your plush, non-indented couch, glass of Merlot in your hand kept carefully away from the carpet you just scrubbed the bloodstains out of. You set it gingerly on your coffee table, half convinced he’s not real.
“I got… a cut.” It seems strange for this masked vigilante - you may or may not have been doing some tipsy research on the hooded hero - to look so sheepish. All six feet of him stooped in your cramped apartment, one hand clutched to his side, that emotionless mask staring straight through you. You get up from your couch wordlessly, walking down the hallway to rummage through your bathroom.
First aid kit and isopropyl in hand, you return to his awkward stance in the middle of your living room; his gaze intently focused on your overstuffed bookshelf. His attention snaps to you when your sock-clad footsteps meet the edge of the plush rug separating you. From this angle, you can see the stubborn, brown bloodstain that you tried to hide under the leg of your armchair - little marks… stains or rusting memories… You gesture to your couch, and he sits, taking off his jacket.
Yanking a stool over to sit in front of him, you pull up his shirt, brows furrowing at the slice in his side. He’s undressed the cut you stitched up for him before he should have, and you examine it while you clean his most recent knife wound. Your stitches are far from perfect - the scar bulging in some areas - but for such a high tension wound, it’s healed well.
Your eyes flicker up to his blood red mask for a moment, and it occurs to you - distantly - that you should probably be terrified. I mean, seriously. A part of you screams that this is how people get murdered. Another part of you thinks that this is the most vulnerable he ever gets; his shirt off, gritting his teeth through the pain of 91% isopropyl alcohol.
Another - buried - part of you thinks this seems familiar.
Your gaze darts back down to his chest, lingering unconsciously on the end of the scar that cuts out from underneath his shirt. Your eyes catch on the ugly bruises decorating the tan expanse of his torso, some angry and purple, others a sickly yellow. He clears his throat awkwardly and your cheeks heat, returning your attention to sterilising his wound. Real classy, birdie, ogling a guy whose face you’ve never seen. He breaks the thick silence first, low voice crackling through his modulator.
“How’s it look, doc? ‘m I gonna survive?” You hide a smile beneath your exasperated look, brows knitted. Still, you can’t fully conceal the amused edge in your dry tone.
“You’re not nearly as charming when you’ve been stabbed.” He cocks his mask; unreadable. For a long moment, you think you might have actually offended him, until he huffs out a staticky laugh.
“Slashed, actually.” You scrunch your nose. Pedantic asshole.
“Look, I’ve had a long day, which wasn’t exactly made better by having to patch up a freak in a super-suit, so just… save the witty ironicism for someone who didn’t have to clean up baby vomit all day.” You can hear the smile in his voice when he responds, mask’s gaze still fixed on your face.
“Ouch, doc, and here I thought you were happy to see me.” A little pause as you meet his gaze briefly, unable to shake the familiarity… the instinctive fondness that warms your chest. His next words seem more guarded. “So, why’re you helping me then?” Good question. Your focus never falters from the slow concentric circles you’re rubbing around his wound with an alcohol soaked hand towel.
“I took an oath.” He laughs again and you quash the little spark of pride that hearing it gives you. You swap the towel in your hand for a roll of bandages and a plaster, applying the latter first before starting to wrap his waist.
“My bad, doc, I thought you were helping me out of the goodness of your heart.”
You scrunch your nose, trying to suppress the smile that tugs insistently at your mouth. Reaching for a clip, you secure his bandages and help him pull his shirt down so it doesn’t catch. You get up from the stool, shuffling it out of the way for your future self to move back in front of your kitchen island. Yawning, you stretch your hands above your head, a little noise of relief leaving your mouth when the tension in your shoulders loosens. You pretend not to notice how his mask tilts, lingering on the sliver of skin exposed as your shirt lifts.
He settles backwards, leaning his shoulders over the arm of your couch so that his legs don’t dangle over the edge. You watch as he yanks your throw blanket haphazardly over his torso and crosses his arms over his chest. You’re sure he must be keeping you in his peripheral as you startle out of eyeing him warily, but he doesn’t acknowledge any of it. Maybe to save you some dignity. Padding back to the hallway, you make it halfway before pausing, words spilling from your mouth unbidden.
“You can have some coffee, you know.”
“What?” The question comes out slurred, a full night’s worth of adrenaline finally dwindling. It brings back a flash of a near empty coffee pot - last dregs dripping slowly into a blue mug held in lethargic hands. You blink.
“In the morning.” He tilts his mask, and you stumble to elaborate, “When you sneak out. You can have some coffee.” Cautious, you study his reaction, but your vigilante doesn’t move an inch - his mask’s white slits boring holes into you like he’s trying to figure you out. Or waiting for a catch. You think he might trust you more if you give him one.
“You have to wash the mug, though. And the coffee’s old.” If you focus hard enough, you can hear something percolating - the coffee in your makeshift warmer or… the tenuous thread of something like dependency. He shifts on the couch and you suppress a wince at the stress it will put on his injuries.
“I like old coffee,” he hums out blurrily, hushed static of his modulator nearly rendering the words unintelligible. You flinch, turning off the living room light instead of responding.
You’re seventeen, he’s sixteen. You give him shit for being two months younger than you. It’s so late at night you’ll start to call it morning soon, and the two of you sit on opposite sides of a diner counter.
You lean over the counter, arms outstretched, dropping your head into your clasped hands. He reaches over you, pouring out another cup of old, lukewarm coffee. He follows it up with an unholy amount of cream and sugar - just how you like it - nudging it over to you with that wry grin of his.
“Tired, birdie?” You are tired, but not as tired as he is. You think maybe Wayne Enterprises should be funding his college tuition, not this superhero shit. Superhero shit that he never talks about, except. He used to tell you everything. You used to tell him everything.
Because he’s smart. He’s really smart. Smart enough to not risk his life every night. You want to tell him that but you know he doesn’t see it that way. In that mask, he’s infallible. Instead, you hum in agreement, dragging the mug closer and taking a sip. You scowl at the bitterness.
He frowns petulantly, looking at you with tired, amused eyes. “You don’t like my coffee?” You set down your cup, wrinkling your nose at the unexpectedly loud ‘clink’ it makes against the counter.
“You’re so dramatic, blue, only you like day-old coffee.” He gives you a dry look, one that says he’s too tired to mock-argue with you. So instead, you turn on the sink behind the counter, rinsing cutlery to load the dishwasher. You both sit in near silence, broken only by his fingers tapping carefully on the counter and your absent-minded hums.
~
You spend days agonising over a present as his birthday rapidly approaches, though you know he hates the fuss. You settle on a gunmetal grey lighter, shakily hand engraved with a bluejay. Something to replace his shitty BIC one, with its smudged sharpie lettering that barely spells out ‘JT’.
Secretly, you look forward to the sardonic comment he'll make about how he thought you disapproved of his cancer sticks. The truth is, you don't think you could stop enabling him.
~
A month out from his birthday, he drops by after patrol with your copy of Wuthering Heights. You ask if he liked it and he says he didn’t. Something, something, overly maudlin. He’s lying. He always gets that little specific crease between his eyebrows when he lies to you.
It feels like all you see lately.
Are the nightmares getting worse?
Lie.
Stayin’ out of trouble?
Lie.
Are we always going to be like this? Am I always going to lose you when you put on that suit?
Lie.
Over and over until you snap, poking a finger straight into the crease and smoothing it out. You tell him you want the truth and he tells you he can’t give it to you. You yell at him for ten hour-long minutes, sweeping angry gestures with your arms. One of them knocks over his half-full mug - blue shards shattering in the slow spill of murky coffee. You wish you remembered what he said to you, but all you remember is watching him leave. The last time he ever did.
You wait two weeks for him to come back, recording apologetic voicemails that he dodges with clipped, sullen phone calls. Then, he stops picking up at all.
His death isn’t reported on the news.
Alfred visits you once after he dies, carrying Jason’s old leather jacket like a sleeping animal that might come alive at any second. You don’t talk - not even when he hands it to you - you don’t know what you would say. You don’t know each other, you have nothing in common, except that you loved the same person once.
Your life shrinks - going through the same mechanical motions for months on end, school, work, home. It feels blasphemous to do anything but stare at the jacket - to lift it from where it hangs on the back of your door, to make it yours instead of his - until, one day, you can’t bear to be distant from him anymore. You put it on, shove your hands in the pockets like he always did, digging around. You find an old hairtie of yours in the inside pocket and a stick of apple pie flavoured lip balm you lent him last winter.
His lighter is in the front pocket, blue as his pale, dark eyes. Carefully, you place it on your desk, next to the one you meant to gift him.
Two lighters and you don’t even fucking smoke.
oof okay, this one was a bit of a monster (don't know if it bodes well for this series for me to have struggled with this chapter so much lol) but i hope you guys like it. :) i might have to take a little break over the next month because of my final exams, but rest assured, doc and jay will be back again come november. tysm for reading!
with love, bugsy
#series: the worst thing about love#love-bugsy#jason todd x reader#jason todd fic#jason todd fanfiction#jason todd imagine#jason todd reader insert#x reader
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FAMOUS
Bodyguard!Jason Todd x Singer!Reader (Series)
Coming soon!!
Summary: Your agent decides you need a bodyguard after your surge in popularity. There is only one man for the job. Jason Todd.
Warnings – Fluff. Mild Violence. Angst. Fluff. Smut. NSFW. Several DC Character cameos.
Short snippet:
Roy’s eyebrows lifted upon seeing a photo of the new client, “Isn’t that the chick you had on your wall at uni?”.
“What? No!”, Jason bristled and shoved the photo of you back under the documents. He inwardly cursed. Fucking Roy.
“So, you're saying that if I look inside your office locker, I won't find a poster of her?”.
Jason heard the cocky smirk on Roy’s face and groaned in irritation running a hand over the front of his face, “Touch my locker and I’ll break your legs”.
Roy cackled loudly and sat on the edge of Jason’s desk, “Ok so you do still have it. Better not let her find it”.
“You’re a real jackass you know”.
“So I’ve heard...maybe she’ll sign it for you if you ask nicely”, Roy continued to mock Jason, making kissy faces at him.
“Why don’t you shut your mouth before I shut it for you”, Jason scowled and turned his chair around pretending to look for some files in the cabinet behind him. Hoping Roy would get the hint and leave him alone.
#jason todd x reader#jason todd imagine#red hood x reader#jason todd smut#red hood imagine#jason todd x reader insert#jason todd fanfiction#red hood smut#red hood x reader insert#red hood fanfiction#jason todd x you#bodyguard!jason todd x singer!reader#jason todd reader insert#jason todd reader smut
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Another Life
Father of Mine – Masterlist
disclaimer: i haven't written in like...a year. and i barely proof read this. so apologies if it's absolute shit.
warning: a lot of dark themes, death, familial drama, overall depressing stuff
“What the hell is going on?” Y/N asked Dick as Alfred helped her take off her coat.
Jason was close behind her.
When Dick called Y/N in the middle of the night, he knew something terrible had happened. And he wasn’t about to let her go to the manor by herself.
“I’m sorry,” Dick immediately blurted out. “I didn’t have time to explain over the phone.”
Y/N swallowed. “What happened to him?”
‘Him’ being Bruce.
“He was hallucinating or something,” Dick explained quickly. “And he won’t snap out of it. But he kept saying your name over and over again.”
“So what the fuck can she do about it?” Jason snapped at him.
But Y/N gripped his arm, silently telling her boyfriend to calm down.
Dick also glared at him. “He kept saying he was sorry. I thought maybe if he saw you – saw that you were OK – then maybe he’d calm down.”
“Take me to him?” Y/N asked Dick carefully.
He nodded. “Follow me.”
Together, the three of them swiftly walked to Bruce’s bedroom. And Y/N suddenly realized she’d never been in there before. It always felt off limits. Bruce was such a private person, she figured she shouldn’t invade such a personal and intimate space.
It was cozier than Y/N expected. But that was probably Alfred’s doing. The man stressed about his master getting enough sleep that he had no choice but to design a bedroom that constantly tempted Bruce with comfort and rest.
Now Y/N stared at the sickly man that laid in bed and it felt like different person than the Bruce Wayne she had become so close with.
His face was pale and sweaty. His eyes were bloodshot. His hair was matted down from perspiration that wouldn’t stop gathering on his face.
Y/N took a small step toward her father and whispered, “Bruce?”
The sound of her calling his name seemed to snap him out of whatever daze he had just been in.
Bruce slowly sat up and looked at Y/N as if he didn’t fully believe he was seeing clearly.
“Y/N?” His voice shook.
“You said he couldn’t snap out of it,” Jason muttered quietly to Dick.
“He-He wasn’t. This is the most lucid he’s been.”
Y/N slowly stepped closer to the bed. “Bruce, can you tell me what happened to you?”
Jason’s instincts were going haywire. He blinked himself awake and quickly walked forward, holding out his arm to stop Y/N from going any further.
When Y/N glared up at him, Jason just said, “I don’t trust him when he doesn’t seem like himself. Better safe than sorry. Don’t get any closer.”
She knew Jason had a point, but that didn’t mean she liked it.
So, she turned her attention back to her father. “Bruce,” she called to him softly. “What happened? What can we do to help?”
But Bruce zoned out, trying to dig into his mind to properly answer the question.
“Was it a curse?” Dick asked.
Bruce snapped out of it when he heard the word ‘curse,’ and locked eyes with Dick.
“It was a sorcerer. Not a curse. Something else.”
“It looks like you had some sort of fever dream – but dialed up to a thousand,” Jason observed aloud.
“Not a fever dream,” Bruce corrected. “A vision.”
“Vision?” Dick and Y/N said in unison.
Bruce nodded as he stared into Y/N’s gaze. “If you and I had met sooner.”
Y/N’s brow wrinkled. “How much sooner?”
“As a child,” Bruce confirmed.
———
Bruce was pacing around the foyer.
Alfred watched from the doorway with his hands folded properly in front of him. “This is not the first time you have taken in a child, Master Wayne.”
Bruce stopped long enough to say, “This is…different.”
“Because she is your child?” Alfred challenged.
“Because she is my daughter,” Bruce snapped back. “A daughter that was kept a secret from me for 10 years.”
“Yes,” Alfred hummed. “But I think we both understand that it was probably best.”
“Not anymore,” Bruce argued. “Not when she’s being sent to live with a father she’s never known. And after her mother and grandparents were killed in a car crash that she miraculously survived.”
Before Alfred could respond, Bruce saw the cop car pull up.
“They’re here,” he muttered and then going to the main entrance before they could ring the doorbell.
Bruce walked onto the gravel of the front drive as the car pulled to a stop.
Detective Gordon stepped out of driver’s seat. Such an errand was below his payroll, but it appeared the man was good with kids – especially ones who’d gone through trauma.
“Mr. Wayne,” he greeted.
“Gordon,” Bruce nodded back. He suspected the man knew who he was in his other life, but it seemed neither of them would ever acknowledge it.
“Where is she?” Bruce asked when he saw no one else in Gordon’s car.
“Right,” Gordon nodded as if he was expecting the question. “I wanted to speak with you about that. She…uhh…isn’t speaking with anyone.”
Bruce frowned. “What do you mean?”
“She’s on her way with the social worker,” Gordon clarified. “But she hasn’t spoken a word to anyone – not doctors, paramedics, cops, nurses. No one.”
Bruce nodded, somehow understanding. “Right.”
“Docs say it’s selective mutism. Very common in children who have been through traumatic experiences.”
Bruce nodded again. But then his eyes narrowed. “Why are you here, Gordon?”
“Just making sure you’re up for this.”
“I’m her father.”
Gordon huffed. “That you are. But when a mother keeps her daughter a secret from her own father for 10 years, you can’t help but be concerned about why.”
Now Bruce was irritated. “And what about the two boys I’ve fostered and adopted? Does that count for nothing?”
“You and I both know this situation is different, Mr. Wayne.”
“Is it?” Bruce was so offended, that he saw himself contradicting the conversation he’d had with Alfred just moments ago. He was allowed to question himself as a father, but no one else was allowed to – apparently.
Suddenly another car pulled up.
“That’ll be Y/N with the social worker,” Gordon sighed.
He didn’t know what he expected to come from challenging Bruce Wayne. The man clearly had a soft spot for kids. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have taken in two boys. But much of Gotham found it a little strange for a billionaire playboy in his 20s to adopt not one, but two young boys.
Bruce’s heart raced when he saw Y/N step out of the car, gently guided by the social worker.
As soon as she saw Bruce, her entire body tensed. She stopped walking forward as soon as she reached Gordon and stepped into his side for protection.
Bruce slowly kneeled, hoping that getting on her level would make him less intimidating and more welcoming. “Hello, Y/N. I am so sorry for what happened to you. But we are happy and relieved to have you here.”
Y/N eyed him cautiously. She knew better than to trust a stranger.
But she then looked up at Gordon, waiting for his OK to do so.
Gordon kneeled too, and gently gripped her shoulders. “You are going to be OK here.” Then his hand went into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a card. “If anything happens or you just don’t feel safe here, you call me. OK, kiddo?”
Y/N nodded and hugged the card to her chest like a lifeline.
Then she continued forward, but walked right past Bruce without even so much as looking at him.
Bruce sighed.
And turned to find Alfred greeting her politely. “Hello, little miss. How about I show you to your room and you can get settled?”
Bruce should’ve expected this. After all, Dick wasn’t all that different when he first arrived to Wayne Manor. Not to mention Bruce could probably understand what Y/N was going through more than anyone else.
“All her things are in the trunk,” the social worker told Bruce.
“That’s it?” Bruce questioned when there were only a few boxes and two suitcases.
The social worker nodded and shrugged. “It was a small apartment.”
–––––––
“Is she here?! Is she here!?” Jason was jumping up and down when he burst into the manor after school.
Bruce sighed and shushed the boy with, “Calm down, Jaylad.”
Jason had been ecstatic at the prospect of another kid his age being at the manor – especially one that wasn’t raised rich like him.
“Where is she?” Jason asked as his eyes raced around the room, like he expected the girl to be glued to Bruce’s side.
Bruce kneeled down. “Jason, I think we’re going to have to give her some time. She’s not really…speaking with anyone.”
Jason frowned at the idea.
But then the boy’s eyes brightened at an idea. “Well…maybe she’s just scared! Maybe if I show her around and make sure she knows she’s safe here. Then-Then she’ll like it here.” He looked at Alfred for confirmation that it was a good idea, who gave him a patient but warm grin. “I was scared when I first got here, too. Remember?”
Bruce’s heart warmed and he nodded.
Jason was such a sweet boy.
Bruce took in a deep breath. “She went through something very traumatic, Jason. She wants her mom and she can’t have her. This is all very overwhelming for her, during a time that’s already scary. We just need to be patient and careful. OK?”
Jason seemed deflated, but nodded at Bruce before hanging his head a bit.
Alfred cleared his throat, “Master Jason, I could use some help with dinner. Do you think you have the time in your very busy schedule?”
That man knew exactly how to get the boy out of a funk.
–––––
Jason did as he was told and left Y/N alone. The manor was big enough that he hadn’t even seen her yet. But Bruce made him promise he wouldn’t go hunting for the girl, which Jason begrudgingly agreed to.
But a few days after Y/N’s arrival, Jason was sneaking around in the pantry, getting a snack. And as he tried to make his escape before being detected, he saw that the doors to one of the ballrooms was open.
‘Huh. That’s funny. Alfred usually doesn’t need to clean in there,’ he thought.
When he tiptoed to the opening, he was surprised by what he found.
Instead of seeing Alfred or a short-term maid cleaning out the ballroom for an upcoming event, Jason saw a girl.
She was laying in the dead center of the room, not her back. She was wearing a hoodie, which made her look even more out of place with the extravagant wood and ostentatious of the room. She had headphones in and a discern on the ground below her.
Clearly, she was listening to music as she stared up at the tall ceiling. It was hand-painted, like the ballroom was the Sistine Chapel.
Jason just watched her for a few minutes.
She didn’t move, didn’t bounce her knee or foot, or hum to the music. She just listened to the music and stared at the ceiling.
“H-Hi,” Jason finally found the courage to say.
It was quiet and he hadn’t even expected for her to hear him.
But as soon as he broke the silence, she shot up to her feet and turned to face him, looking like a terrified and cornered animal.
Jason held up his hands out of reflex alone. “Hey, hey, hey. It’s ok!” He blurted out.
But her eyes just widened even more as she ripped the headphones off her hears so they were sitting on her shoulders.
“I’m not gonna hurt you,” Jason continued. “I just…wanted to say…ummm…hi, I guess.”
Y/N just stared at him.
She looked less scared now, but clearly uninterested in speaking with him.
“Still not talking, huh?” Jason sighed.
“Master Jason,” Alfred appeared around the corner. But he stopped whatever he was about to say when he saw the two children facing each other. Though Y/N was standing 15 yards away from them, in the middle of the ballroom.
“Why hello, little miss. Are you getting hungry?”
Y/N quickly shook her head.
“Are you sure?” Alfred asked, clearly worried about the child’s lack of appetite. “I just pulled some chocolate croissants out of the oven.”
Jason’s eyes lit up and looked back at her. “Oh, you have to try some. They’re amazing!”
But Y/N just looked at Jason weirdly before shaking her head at Alfred again.
Alfred sighed in disappointment. “Very well. You let me know when you are hungry, Ms. Y/N.” Then he turned his attention to Jason. “Come, Master Jason. Let us leave her alone.”
Once the both of them were out of sight, Y/N went back to her original position: laying in the middle of the ballroom, headphones on, and staring up at the ceiling.
“Why won’t she eat?” Jason asked quietly.
When he was on the streets, he was always hungry. Most of his energy was put into figuring out how to get his next meal. It was strange to see a kid deny food.
“I believe the manor is very overwhelming for her, Master Jason. And we are but strangers to her.” He patted Jason on the back. “But do not fret, I have been bringing trays up to her bedroom – and she’s been eating them thankfully. I do not think she feels comfortable eating with us quite yet.”
They arrived to find Bruce in the kitchen.
“I saw her!” Jason excitedly told him.
Bruce gave Alfred a worried look.
“She is in the ballroom, laying on the floor,” Alfred confirmed.
“Listening to music,” Jason added.
Bruce just nodded and looked at Alfred again. “I’ve been talking to Dr. Thompkins about making an appointment for her…”
“No!” Jason blurted out without meaning to.
“No?” Bruce questioned with a frown.
“I mean,” Jason looked at the two grownups nervously. “If you take her to a therapist, she’ll think we think there’s something wrong with her.”
Bruce sighed. “Well, there is something wrong. She’s grieving and she refuses to speak, Jason. We’re out of our depth here.”
“Just…wait a little bit. Please?” Jason looked up at Bruce with his big, innocent, blue eyes.
Bruce shared another look with Alfred.
“Alright, Jaylad. We’ll wait a bit longer,” Bruce sighed as he ruffled Jason’s hair.
————
Jason’s senses were good even before he became Robin. Living on the streets meant that he always had to be on high alert.
So when he was reading in the library at the manor, he felt someone watching him.
“You can come out, you know You don’t have to hide,” Jason quietly called out without taking his eyes off of his book.
A few seconds later, his gaze raised to see Y/N sneaking out from behind a shelf, hugging a book as if it was a lifeline.
Jason squinted as he tried to read the title. It was one of the Harry Potter books.
“Wanna read with me?” He asked gently.
Then he quickly added, “We don’t have to talk or anything! Just sit together and read our own books.”
Y/N watched him for a few minutes.
Jason went back to his reading, but all his senses were on her. He didn’t want to feel like he was pressuring her. So he went back to what he was doing and hoped he made it clear that he wasn’t forcing her to do anything.
Eventually, he heard the shy steps against the carpet as Y/N walked over and then grabbed the love seat that was across from him.
Just as promised, they didn’t speak. The two of them just read their books.
After a couple hours, Jason thought it was safe to talk.
“Just so you know…Bruce is a good guy. I know he can be kinda scary. But he would never do anything bad to you.”
Y/N’s body tensed as soon as Jason broke the silence.
“He doesn’t hurt kids.”
Her eyes finally snapped to Jason’s.
She couldn’t help but notice his unintentional emphasis on the word ‘kids’.
Jason sighed. “You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. But we can still play together, right?”
Y/N looked at him for a few seconds before she finally nodded.
Starting then, Bruce or Alfred would frequently find the two kids sitting in the library, silently reading their own books, but sitting shoulder to shoulder on the couch. Then it moved onto playing hide and seek on the great lawn. Or the two of them racing bikes just outside the gates of the manor.
Bruce and Alfred were happy to see Y/N having fun and being more comfortable with them. But Y/N still didn’t talk.
And she didn’t seem to like being alone in a room with Bruce. She ignored him most of the time. But she would avoid a room if only he was in it.
Bruce’s guess was that she didn’t trust a man that her mother tried so hard to keep a secret. Surely there was a reason, and Bruce could only assume that Y/N believed it to be bad.
————
Y/N still stayed silent. But it seemed she formed an unspoken language with Jason.
And therefore Jason sometimes felt the need to act as her translator.
“Alfred, Y/N’s not feeling well today. I don’t think she should go to school.”
“Y/N doesn’t like peas, Bruce. Don’t give her so many.”
“Y/N isn’t a fan of scary movies. We shouldn’t watch them for family movie night.”
Bruce was glad Jason had formed a bond with his daughter. Most days, Bruce was convinced that he would never have any sort of breakthrough with Y/N.
However, things seemed to have changed on one fateful day.
Y/N and Jason were sword fighting with sticks in the forest on the manor grounds when Jason tripped backwards. It wouldn’t have been a big deal if that was it. But the boy just so happened to fall on top of something that broke with his weight.
Y/N rushed forward to see that Jason had fallen into some sort of sink hole. It couldn’t have been less than six feet deep – far too much height for Jason to get out of on his own.
Not that he could, though.
When Y/N looked down, Jason was either unconscious or dead.
“JASON!” Y/N shrieked, but the boy didn’t move.
Next thing Y/N knew, she was sprinting as fast as she could back to the manor.
“Bruce! Bruce! Alfred!” Her screaming echoed.
Bruce came running from his office. His eyes were wide with distress at both hearing his daughter’s voice for the first time, and hearing the obvious fear and panic in it.
He found Y/N sobbing in the entryway.
“Y/N? What is it? What’s going on?”
“J-Jason f-fell,” she struggled to say through her crying. “But-But he won’t wake up!”
Bruce kneeled and gently gripped Y/N’s shoulders. “Y/N, I need you to show me exactly where he is. Alright?”
Y/N nodded.
Alfred suddenly joined them.
Bruce turned to him. “Alfred, call an ambulance.”
Y/N grabbed Bruce’s hand and dragged him out the door. “Hurry. We can’t leave him!”
Bruce let his daughter drag him through the woods on the property.
She stopped and held up a shaky finger as she pointed down at the hole that Bruce couldn’t see into yet.
He carefully stepped forward to see Jason lay at the bottom with his eyes closed.
“Please help him, Bruce.”
He nodded and rolled up his sleeves before climbed down. “Y/N, please go stand by that tree. Wait there.”
Y/N rushed to do what he said, thinking that it would get Bruce to Jason faster.
The hole was wide and deep enough to make it impossible for Jason to get out on his own, but not for a grown man – and definitely not for Batman.
It only took a few minutes for Bruce to emerge from the hole with Jason in his arms.
Y/N took half a step towards them, but then stopped.
“Is he…Is he…?” Her voice was trembling as she failed to ask her question.
“He just unconscious,” Bruce assured her. “I think he may have broken his collarbone. But he’ll be alright, Y/N.”
Y/N looked at Bruce as if she didn’t believe him.
Bruce stepped closer to his daughter. “Y/N, I promise he’s OK.”
She finally nodded.
After Jason got back from the hospital in a cast, Bruce found that Y/N had snuck into Jason’s bed with him that night.
———
Bruce was hopeful that the incident would completely break Y/N of her mutism. But it seemed she still had no desire to speak to most people. She would sometimes say a couple of words to them at a time. But it was far from an actual conversation.
However, Bruce still saw that as somewhat of a success.
For the first time since Y/N had arrived, there finally seemed to be some sort of an improvement.
He saw Y/N smile and laugh.
Jason was clearly her favorite, but she didn’t seem to mind Dick when he graced them with his presence.
Y/N had been living with them for over two years when Alfred finally broached the subject that Bruce knew was inevitable.
Alfred was patching him up after a rough night. They were in the pain, surrounded by bloody gauze. Meanwhile, Y/N was peacefully asleep a few floors above them. And Jason was in the kitchen, getting a snack after joining Bruce on patrol.
“When do you plan on telling her, Master Wayne?”
Bruce played dumb. “Tell who what?”
Alfred tugged a stitch too roughly – clearly doing it on purpose. But he didn’t clarify, knowing Bruce was fully aware of what he was asking about.
“I can’t,” Bruce finally sighed.
“And why is that? Master Jason and Richard are well aware.”
“You know it’s different with her.”
“I’m not sure it is, Master Bruce.”
He frowned. “She’s already scared of me. And I hate it. How do you think she’ll see her father if she finds out he’s Batman?”
“She will just simply need more time to adjust,” Alfred suggested as he snipped the thread, finishing his final round of stitches. “And perhaps it’s the wall you’ve put between you two that makes her so weary.”
Bruce hadn’t thought of it that way.
“I’ll think about it,” he finally answered.
And Alfred knew that was as good as he was going to get for tonight.
———
But any plans of Bruce considering telling Y/N the family secret were lost.
Because they were too busy handling the death of Jason.
And Bruce had to lie to Y/N about how it all happened.
“Why couldn’t I go on the vacation with you two?” Y/N had nearly snarled.
Bruce figured she was convinced that if she had been there, she could’ve saved Jason.
When Jason had gone racing after his mother, Bruce had to race after him, too. He and Alfred thought it was best to come up with a lie. They’d never had to deal with Jason going rouge like that before.
“I promised him it would just be the two of us,” Bruce lied.
“I hate you,” Y/N finally hissed. “I’ve always hated you.”
Bruce leaned back, not expecting such an outburst.
This was the most Y/N had ever said to him since knowing each other.
“Y/N,” he sighed, not knowing what else to say to comfort her in this moment.
“I HATE YOU!” Y/N screamed it now.
And she had never raised her voice. It was all the opposite now.
Y/N looked at the fine china Alfred at placed near them before the conversation started. A tea pot, milk, sugar, and two tea cups. None of it had been touched by either of them.
“I hate this house!” She picked up one of the tea cups and chucked it at the wall behind Bruce, watching the china shatter.
Next she took the rest of the tray and tipped it so the rest of it shattered to the hardwood floor. The teapot shattered, washing dark tea cross the ground.
“Did you hear me!?” She yelled at him. “I. Hate. You.”
Bruce just stood and watched the tantrum. He refused to reprimand her. How could he?
“I hate you!” Y/N yelled again, clearly waiting for him to show some sort of response.
The she tried to shove him, but her tiny body was nothing against Bruce’s tall and muscular frame.
But she tried again.
When he still didn’t budge, she started pounding her fists against his torso. Tears started falling down her face in rivers.
“I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!”
Bruce finally snapped out of it, suddenly scared she was going to hurt herself. So he held her wrists firmly, keeping them in place. Which just made Y/N start to struggle to get out of his grip.
“Don’t touch me!”
“I know,” Bruce finally whimpered. “I know you hate me. I know you’ve always hated me.”
Y/N finally stepped away and he let her go, seeing that she was done trying to beat him.
“I wish it was you,” she whispered. “I wish you had died in that car instead of mom. Then we never would’ve met. And I wish it was you that died. Not Jason.”
Bruce just blinked.
With that, Y/N turned and sprinted to her bedroom, slamming in the door loud enough that Bruce could hear it from the den.
————
After Jason’s tragic death, a part of Bruce’s heart died and he would never get it back. But with his shattered heart, grew a new panic that he couldn’t protect anyone.
And instead of telling Y/N the truth about his double life – the double life that got Jason killed – he promised himself that he would never let Y/N know.
But the only way to ensure that, was to send her far away.
“Boarding school?” Y/N growled. “In Switzerland?”
“It’s one of the top schools in the world.”
“I don’t give a fuck,” Y/N said.
She was only 13, but it didn’t stop her from using profanities at Bruce any time she had the chance.
Her gaze snapped to Alfred for a millisecond, seeing if he’d be the one to scold her for using such foul language. But the butler simply looked at her, knowing she was looking for a fight with anyone and everyone these days.
“Guess it’s a good thing,” Y/N mumbled, shocking both the men. “You couldn’t keep Jason alive. Might as well send me away to make sure I’m not next.”
“Ms. Y/N, that is enough,” Alfred finally spoke.
He didn’t snap, but the finality of the discussion was still there.
“Should probably go pack anyway,” she hissed in response.
The next morning, Y/N didn’t even look at Bruce as she walked out the door carrying a couple bags. She refused to let anyone other than Alfred drive her to the airport.
Y/N offered Bruce no goodbye or even one last parting look.
He didn’t exist to her.
———
For the next years, Y/N never called. Bruce wouldn’t even know if she was alive if he didn’t call the school once a week to get a report.
Y/N didn’t even return to Gotham for holidays. Instead, she went home with any friend from school, preferring to hang out with someone else’s family than her own. Alfred had to basically beg Y/N to come back for the annual three-month summer break. And when she did, she was out god knows where all night and slept all day.
Bruce had followed her a few times. Well, Batman followed her. She was out with friends drinking or at a BatBurger or at a house party or sneaking into clubs that she was far too young to be at. But Y/N was Gotham’s princess, the long-lost daughter of Bruce Wayne. She just had to smile and show her ID and clubs would get her a table.
But then there was one night that Bruce hadn’t been following his daughter…and he saw something he wasn’t meant to.
Bruce had been patrolling, following a lead.
He didn’t expect to see Y/N getting handed a small backpack in exchange for a bag of what he could assume was money.
Bruce recognized the man immediately. He worked for the Penitente Cartel. One of the lower-level thugs who mostly managed the dealers on the street.
Y/N could hate him all she wanted. She could ice him out, ignore him, pretend she wasn’t a Wayne. But Bruce drew the line at her dealing and getting herself into the shit that he was trying to end in Gotham.
It was 9 in the morning when Bruce burst into Y/N’s bedroom.
She was passed out in an oversized t-shirt and grey sweatpants.
Y/N was 17 now and looked more like a young woman than a teenager or child. And that made Bruce even more nervous about her activities.
She jumped in fear at the disruption, sitting up straight in her giant bed.
Bruce had never invaded her space before and she was clearly shocked by it.
“Get out,” Y/N hissed.
But Bruce ignored her and started searching through her bedroom to find the bag he saw her get handed last night.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing,” Y/N snapped as she jumped out of bed.
But as soon as she was off the bed, Bruce lifted the mattress as if it weighed nothing and spotted the black backpack.
Bruce turned to her, shoving the backpack in her face. “What is this?”
Y/N tried to grab it from him, but Bruce wasn’t having it.
“Give it back,” Y/N growled.
“So you’re dealing drugs now?” Bruce asked. “That’s your new angle for trying to get back at me.”
“Oh, please.” Y/N rolled her eyes. “As if I give enough of a fuck about you to even put an effort into pissing you off. I’m not dealing.”
“So you just planned on using $100,000 worth of drugs?” Bruce challenged.
Y/N actually laughed in his face. “It’s discounted. Sometimes using your stupid family name gets me a favor. I pay half of what it’s worth and charge those stupid brats at school twice as much.”
Bruce narrowed his eyes. “As if you need the money.”
“It’s my money,” Y/N growled. “That I earn myself. And you can’t track it.”
“Planning on running away?”
“It’s not running away if I’m 18,” she told him, matter of factly.
“You want to move out of here and never speak to me again when you’re 18? Fine. It’s not as if I’ve ever threatened to cut you off. But I will draw the line at you getting involved with cartels.”
Bruce couldn’t tell what made Y/N angrier: the fact that he knew exactly where she got her drugs or the fact that he wasn’t pushing back like he clearly wanted.
Then he saw Y/N’s eyes suddenly darken, as if something snapped within her.
Y/N stepped closer to Bruce slowly. It made him tighten his grip on the backpack.
“Did you see me during your little patrols in your stupid costume?”
Bruce’s eyes widened, a rare slip of showing a reaction. But he couldn’t stop it.
And he could tell he’d given Y/N exactly the reaction she wanted – shock, panic, fear – because she gave laughed darkly in his face.
“I always knew you thought I was stupid,” she continued. “But did you honestly think I could live in the same house as Batman and not figure it out.”
Bruce’s heart was racing. “How…How long have you known?”
Y/N scoffed. Of course that’s what he would zero in on. “A year or so after I moved here.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Why didn’t you say anything?” She snapped back.
Bruce was silent, processing every interaction he’d ever had with his daughter and seeing in through the new lens. She knew. She knew almost all along.
But Y/N wasn’t done hurting Bruce yet. “Jason didn’t die that night. Robin did.”
Suddenly, she seemed done with the conversation and started moving around the room.
“What are you doing?” Bruce asked.
“Leaving.”
“No, you are not. You are still a kid. My kid. And I–”
“Oh, yeah?” Y/N cut him off. “How am I your kid? Huh? Besides sharing you’re DNA, there is nothing between us. I hated you then and I hate you now even more.”
Bruce’s next words were even and slow, “You are not leaving this house, Y/N.”
Y/N stopped packing and walked to him again. “You are going to let me do whatever the fuck I want, whenever I want. And you know why? Because if you don’t, I’ll tell the world their beloved Bruce Wayne is Batman.”
Bruce just stared his daughter down.
And somehow he understood that it was not an empty threat. She would do it.
Y/N seemed pleased with silence and finished up her packing.
She approached Bruce one last time with a warning look before shifting her gaze to the bag of drugs he was holding. She snatched it from his hands, and he let her.
“Stop pretending like you’ll miss me,” she called over her shoulder. “You sent me away the first chance you got.”
“I sent you away because I was terrified that you would be next,” Bruce muttered just as she reached the door. “You already knew I was Batman. How long would it have taken for you to make your way down the same path?”
Y/N had frozen in place to listen, but refused to turn around.
After a few moments, she turned ever so slightly so he could hear her say, “The idea of me becoming one of you was so terrible, that you made me this way instead.”
With that, she left the manor.
———
Bruce didn’t see Y/N for months. He always knew where she was, tracking every relocation she did. But she never checked in again, never came back to the manor. Now, she wasn’t even answering Alfred’s calls. Dick tried to reason with her, but had only snarled at him to leave her alone.
It was another night in Gotham.
The signal had only been in the air for 5 minutes and Batman was on his way, screaming through the streets in his vehicle.
He found Gordon waiting outside a the Iceberg Lounge, surrounded by dozens of Gotham PD. It only took a few seconds for Bruce to see that the group was struggling to keep it together.
“What happened?” Bruce asked with his Batman voice.
Gordon seemed to be failing to find words. His head was bowed and he couldn’t find the courage to meet Batman’s waiting gaze.
Finally, he lifted his head and looked at his cops. “Tell everyone to clear the scene.”
A younger cop spoke up. “But we’re still–”
“That’s an order. Clear the area.”
Batman tensed. Out of all the years of working with Gordon, he’d never done something like this before. He had never feared the gaze of Batman, never shied away from explaining the disturbing crime scenes they were about to study together.
But when they walked into the lounge, Bruce understood.
The usual colorful strobe lights were off, replaced by the bright fluorescents that were only on after hours when the cleaning crew was working.
And they lit the bodies perfectly.
Dead bodies.
Everywhere.
Sprawled across each other. Blood from one person staining the clothes of another.
And then Bruce saw her.
And he finally understood Gordon’s strange behavior.
There Y/N laid, her lifeless eyes staring up at the ceiling of the club. There were three bullet holes in her chest.
Bruce had always suspected that Gordon knew the truth, knew who he was behind the mask. And those suspicions were finally confirmed.
Gordon was bringing Batman in here alone because he knew that Y/N was his daughter.
But Bruce was silent.
There was a ringing in his ear, making it hard for him to process the crime scene like he usually did so naturally.
“It was a fight between gangs,” Gordon explained. “The crossfire…it…” He couldn’t finish his sentence. He couldn’t find it in him to politely explain that Y/N Wayne was just collateral damage in a petty turf war.
Batman said nothing.
His gaze hadn’t moved from Y/N.
“I’ll give you a moment alone.”
Bruce was trembling the moment he was alone.
He heard someone drop to the ground behind him. He turned to find Dick in his Nightwing uniform, eyes already wide with horror as they stared at Y/N’s dead body.
“No,” Dick gasped. “No, no, no.”
Then Dick was rushing forward, crying over Y/N.
After a minutes of silent tears, Dick looked up at Bruce. “We can’t leave her here.”
But Bruce was shaking his head already. “We have to.”
“No, we don’t.”
“Every police officer has already seen her. What will they think if they put together that Batman took Y/N Wayne’s body from a crime scene?”
Dick knew he was right. But he hated it. Absolutely hated it.
Before he let Bruce drag him out of the club, Dick silently cried over Y/N’s body, clutching her hand as if it could bring him any comfort.
———-
“How did it end?” Y/N asked in a whisper.
As Bruce told the story – their alternate timeline, their lives in a parallel universe – Jason had moved closer and closer to Y/N. Her body got stiff and her skin lost some of it’s color.
Bruce didn’t answer Y/N’s question.
“Bruce,” she pushed, a tiny bit louder.
“Jason,” he finally stated.
Y/N looked at her boyfriend, but he was glaring at Bruce.
“Jason killed me,” Bruce clarified.
“Because of the Joker?” Jason asked.
Bruce shook his head. “Because of what happened to Y/N.”
Jason tensed at the realization.
Bruce continued with, “Instead of hating me for not seeking revenge with the Joker, Jason hated me for not protecting Y/N.”
She looked to Jason again, but he wouldn’t meet her gaze. Because Jason could completely see himself – another self – doing such a thing. If it was Y/N, even if they weren’t involved like they were in this life, Jason would despise Bruce more from that than for never killing the Joker.
“What they showed you,” Y/N began, “Is there any sort of permanent damage? Will you be OK?”
“I’ll be fine,” Bruce answered roughly and far too quickly.
“I called in a favor with Constantine. He should be here tomorrow afternoon,” Dick chimed in. “Better safe than sorry.”
“What Master Wayne needs is some rest,” Alfred appeared behind them.
Jason, Dick, and Y/N whipped around to see the butler’s disapproving look. But they all nodded, understanding that Alfred always knew best.
“I’m gonna go for a drive,” Jason suddenly muttered. And he bolted out of the room. “I’m takin’ one of the bikes,” he called over his shoulder.
“As long as it’s not mine,” Dick called after him.
Y/N was taken aback by Jason’s abrupt departure. But clearly he needed to think.
After Bruce finished his story, Jason clearly couldn’t look at her.
Leave it to Jason to be guilty about not protecting her – even when it was an alternate universe that he wasn’t a part of.
“Hungry?” Dick asked Y/N with a heavy sigh.
She just nodded, knowing she wasn’t hungry, but agreeing to go with Dick to the kitchen anyway because she wasn’t going to sleep anytime soon.
Y/N picked at the leftovers Dick heated up for her. He knew better than to try and actually cook for her. And both of them didn’t want Alfred to stress himself with making them food with everything going on.
“You OK?” Dick asked after he could no longer handle watching her push her food around.
“I don’t know. How is one supposed to feel after finding out about an alternate timeline of their life?”
She wasn’t being sarcastic or snapping. Her confusion was genuine.
Dick smirked. “Believe it or not, getting involved with alternate dimensions isn’t all that rare in our line of work.”
“How do you keep it from driving you insane?”
Dick sighed. “No matter what happened to me in other worlds – or I should say is happening – I guess I always end up at the same place: There’s versions of me that have it better, but there’s also versions of me that have it way worse. I can’t fix them or copy them. All I can do is appreciate what I have here – right here. And be grateful I’m not living in one of those worst versions.”
Y/N gave Dick a shy and sad smile, knowing Dick had figured it all out.
“The thing is,” she began, “I can see myself hating him so easily. Had things gone that way, there’s not a doubt in my mind that the two of us would’ve never solved our issues.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t say this,” Dick winced, “But it’s good you found this family when you did.”
“I think you’re right,” Y/N admitted with a slow nod.
Suddenly Alfred came out from the kitchen with two large mugs in his hands, then softly placing one in front of each of them.
Dick whistled lowly. “Alfred’s famous hot chocolate. How lucky are we.”
“Alfred, you shouldn’t be worrying yourself about us. You should be getting rest, just like Bruce.”
“Y/N, you should know by now that rest is hardly found in this manor,” Alfred answered. “But I will be retiring to my room. Be sure to wake me if anything changes.”
“Night, Alfred.” The two of them said in unison.
“I swear, this hot chocolate has some sort of magic.”
Y/N eyed it, noting the ridiculous amount of marshmallows in it and how the smell alone had her salivating. She could tell immediately this was no standard, powdered crap.
“I’m worried about Jason,” she finally confessed.
Dick squeezed Y/N’s shoulder. “You know how he is…just gotta give him some time to sort out what he’s actually feeling.”
Y/N nodded, knowing he was right.
“Jason is fiercely protective. And knowing the people he loves were hurt in another dimension? He still takes it as personal failure.”
“I’m gonna wait up for him in the den,” Y/N sighed.
“Want company?” Dick asked.
But she was expecting the offer and shook her head before he even got the two-word question out. “No. Thank you, but go to sleep, Dick.”
He softly rubbed her back as he stood up.
Y/N went to the den with the rest of her hot chocolate and put on some random movie to zone out to while she waited for her boyfriend.
It wasn’t until an hour later that she heard the motorcycle return.
Jason was walking steadily until he passed the doorway of the den, clearly not expecting to find his girlfriend awake and waiting for him.
“Hey,” Y/N greeted ever so softly.
“Hey,” Jason mimicked back as he walked into the room.
“Wanna talk about it?” Y/N asked.
“I shouldn’t have left like that.” He was gearing up for an apology.
Y/N shrugged. “You needed some space to think. I get it.”
“No, it was selfish. I should’ve stayed with you.”
“But I’m fine,” she tried to tell him.
“Are you?” He challenged her.
“Am I supposed to crawl into a ball and cry my eyes out because there’s a universe out there where my life turned into a dumpster fire?”
“You know that’s not what I meant, Y/N.” Then he was sitting next to her on the couch, pulling her onto his lap. “I’m just telling you that you’re allowed to be upset after hearing crazy shit like that…”
Y/N didn’t fight the movement, but tucked herself against his body, inhaling his scent and finding comfort in his abnormal body heat.
“Dick thinks you’re feeling guilty because you couldn’t stop it…”
She felt his body tense at the assumption.
“You know I’d rather die then admit that Dick was right about something…”
Y/N giggled at his response and lifted her head to look at him.
But then her face slowly dropped to serious. “You can’t save me in every universe, Jason.”
“I don’t need reminding,” Jason answered curtly before his teeth ground and his jaw clenched.
Y/N grabbed his face between her hands, tracing the bottom of his strong jawline. “Jason, saving me in one world is more than enough. Don’t torture yourself more than you already do.”
But she saw that he was still not convinced.
“You’re enough, Jason. And you don’t need to be my hero in every universe. This one’s just fine.”
His eyes glazed over with tears, but he forbid them to escape.
He slowly nods, finally.
“It hurts. Even with me holding you right now, it hurts to think that there’s a you somewhere that needed my help, but I wasn’t there.”
“I know,” Y/N coos.
“But Dick had a good point: we can’t go crazy thinking about the other versions of us doing better or worse.”
“When did he get so wise?” Jason mumbled, clearly annoyed that he couldn’t help but admit that Dick saw reason where he didn’t.
“I promise I won’t tell him you said that,” Y/N giggled lightly.
A silence settled between them as they continued to cuddle on the couch.
“You’re worried about Bruce, huh?” Jason finally asked after a few minutes.
He knew that’s why she wasn’t as freaked out about what she’d heard. If the people she loved were in danger or hurting, she pushed all her own needs and thoughts and feelings completely to the side.
“Yeah,” she admitted.
“He’ll be fine,” Jason assured her. “The bastards been through shit a hundred times worse than this. He was worried about you. But now that he saw you, he’ll pull himself together.”
“I know you’re right. But my worry is taking over my brain and it’s hard to be logical.”
Jason kissed the top of her head and managed to hold her even tighter.
Another few minutes passed.
“Hey, Jason?”
“Hmm?”
“I’m glad I get this version of you.”
“I’m the luckiest fuckin’ bastard to get any version of you.”
––––––––––––
Honestly, can't believe I just wrote something and published it. This has been saved on my computer, halfway done, for like months and months. I teased it a long time ago. So if anyone was ever actually waiting for it, hope it was worth the wait.
#father of mine#father of mine universe#jason todd x reader#dad!bruce wayne#batdad#bruce wayne x daughter!reader#batfam#batboys#father!bruce wayne#red hood x reader#dad!batman#batman#bruce wayne#batman reader insert#jason todd reader insert
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Hi! I love your blog so much
Can I request a Jason Todd x reader where the reader is pregnant and she tells Jason
☰ CONFESSING YOU’RE PREGNANT
⤐ jason todd x reader
- masterlist
- wc | 627
- warnings | mentions of pregnancy, fem implied reader (can def be seen as gn), very slight suggestive comment at the end
- summary | jason todd is many things, but a stable man is not one of them.
- author’s note | ayyy guess who’s back from the dead, thank you anon for the request! apologies if you wanted this to be pure fluff, i kinda hopped on the angst train and got a little silly
“Jason.”
Trembling hands worked along damp seams, patching polar bandages to dewy skin. Each finished thread through bruised nerves projected all but a quiet sigh from the man below you, free hand mushed into freshly washed locks.
You hadn’t expected a response from him, dripping with fading adrenaline and frayed patience. Post patrol for his vigilantism was akin to a hangover, forcing his eyes shut to block out dimmed lights as his foot tapped relentlessly against the bathroom floor. Your eyelashes netted sweat as you continued to work, lips pursed into a thin line at the refusal of your fingers to steady.
It was just short of 4 in the morning. Jason had arrived at the same time he would every typical patrol night, reeking of downtown Gotham and riddled with injuries. You had learned to suppress the worry that carried along with each return, holding on to each promise that he would be fine. You believed him. Jason was a strong man. Physically.
And as stable as he was learning to become, you dreaded what would happen if he took the faintest of glances to the small trash beside you.
His mood usually began to lift an hour after getting home. Ever so slightly, the movement of his leg began to slow from what you could only assume was growing fatigue.
“Sorry that your hair smells like cherry vanilla.” You leaned forward, swiping a flock of wet bangs to the side of his forehead. “Your favorite shampoo is on sale at Batmart, I’ll go buy some after work.”
His uncovered eye peaked out from your gesture, unchanging in demeanor despite your smile. A few moments of silence passed before he reached down, swiping a package of bandages from the area beside your foot.
He effortlessly stretched past you, dipping a hand into the trash despite your efforts to shield him.
“The shampoo can wait.”
Your next breath swept itself dry in the depths of your throat as his hand retreated to your vision, spinning a two-lined pregnancy test around before lowering it.
“Jason, I-“
“Is this yours?”
You could only spare a partially audible cough before nodding.
A soft clack rang out as the test hit the floor, followed by an undistinguished noise from your lover. His hands found themselves rubbing slack against his face, running over sensitive wounds and premature tears alike.
“Oh god, I’m so sorry.” His breath rolled out as a shudder, slightly muffled by the hand cupped over his mouth. “I should’ve been more careful, I.. I didn’t mean to…”
You slowly reached forward, thumbs swiping newly forming tears from his ducts as choked sobs escaped underneath. Weighted with uncertainty, you took the hand he held over his face, clasping trembling fingers over your own.
“I can’t… I can’t be a father.”
His mouth molded into a thin line, eyebrows knitting firmly together as you ran your free hand over his jaw. The trace stopped at the shell of his ear, fluttering back to run free amongst now partially dried strands of raven hair.
“You can, love.” Your voice was small, adding in a small nod as his gaze rose to contest yours. “You can, only if you want to.”
If a single brush of wind had passed outside, you would’ve failed to pick up the “okay” he let out. Shallow nods followed his a rising flush on his face, eyes averting the next moment, followed by silence and a squeeze to your hand.
“What are you thinking?”
“Nothing bad.” His gaze flicked back to you, earning a ghostly smile along the way at the sight of your relief. “I’m just wondering how, you know,”
You snorted, lightly slapping his arm before he could finish.
“Alright, you need to go to bed.”
#jvsons#jason todd#jason todd x reader#jason todd reader insert#jason todd fanfiction#jason todd x you#jason todd imagine#jason todd x y/n#red hood x reader#jason todd x fem!reader#jason todd dc#jason todd fic#jason todd fluff#jason todd angst#jason todd drabble#red hood imagine#red hood x you#red hood fanfiction
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Put It On My Tab: Chapter 10
Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!reader
Tag:
@vbecker10 @wordsfromthemoon @harlequin-hangout @harpy-space @tild3ath @gone-batty-fics @princessbl0ss0m @dakotali
Warning:
Banter, Fluff, Wit, Book-nerdiness, and more floof
Summary:
Everyone deserves time off, and the vigilantes of Gotham are no exception to the rule. The boys decide to take a weekend to let loose. Who knew a few drinks would lead to a stranger in bed?
Author Note:
A huge thank you and shout out to @harlequin-hangout for the amazing banners you made for me.
If you’re new to the story, please check the master list for the previous chapters!
Jason watched her turn her mug in circles, press a napkin to make it smooth, and shift her plate as if to find the perfect lighting to make her pastry most photogenic. One half of her lower lip was imprisoned by her teeth, the other half jutting out to the side. It was not hard for him to conclude that she was nervous, which made him curious. What does she have to say about what Cici said? How serious could it be? Maybe she’s embarrassed about the bill? Wait, if she brings it up I can insist on paying!
“So ,” Y/N finally spoke up after what felt like hours of silence. “I have been in a dicey situation because of the Joker and his gang of clowns. Wrong time, wrong place, sorta deal.” She paused again, but shorter this time. “I have been hit by his Joker Venom, but I was treated in time. It was a gas and it wasn’t one of the more lethal variants or long enough exposure to be permanently disabling. It’s…not something I talk about either. Cici wasn't trying to lie or cause trouble the day you came in. She was trying to help me out, because I recognized you.”
Great , she recognized me right away and I was just chasing 1’s and 0’s in a useless IP address! His lips scrunched to the side as he slouched in his seat, his pride was thoroughly bruised.
“Don't pout, I was having a bad day, well week, and she was just trying to help me jot deal with another thing, and ended up blurting that out. So no, I’m not some lunatic because of it and yes, I’m perfectly normal, because who isn’t a little traumatized when living in Gotham City, right?”
“I would say ‘or insanely rich’, but they tend to be the actual targets and commoners like myself end up in the crosshairs.” She hesitantly added, seeing no flare of anger or annoyance, she sat up and took a bite of her flaky pastry of choice.
“Are you sure ‘perfectly normal’ is the best term for you?” He grumbled. “You recognized me and did your damndest to be unrecognizable, why? You even got your friend in on it and made me think you're someone,” his voice steadily grew louder and his tone harsher as he sat up straight while she steadily shrank back into her seat, ducking her head to avoid looking at him. Shit , not what I wanted to do! “ Forget it , who am I to get pissed at a little white lie? I’m no stranger to bad days either.” Like being held hostage and left for dead by the Joker. He quickly deflated back in his seat. His foot lightly nudged against hers, making her jump and look up. “I also think anyone who isn't traumatized living here is either off their rocker or they've only just moved in.” His gaze softened as he smiled, coaxing her to relax with him again.
“Being rich comes with its own style of batshit crazy.” He rolled his eyes. Like throwing cash around for giant galas to make yourselves feel better about ‘charity’ which will obviously attract all the other criminals in Gotham. The only difference between them is that one group is considered legal.
“Speaking of rich, you’re a Wayne, right?” Jason’s eyebrows shot up quickly before crashing down and furrowing together. “Cici told me, I was helping her with the drinks that day and she told me to not call it.” She quickly explained. “But that aside, what do I call you? Little Lordling? Littler Wayne? Wayne Jr the second? Wayne 3.0? There are a bunch of you, right? You're the second one, I suppose you'd be Wayne 2, or are you 3 because Bruce Wayne would be 1?” She thought aloud, watching his left eye twitch with each nickname she came up with. It was still oh so satisfying to see.
“Yes, I am an adopted son of Bruce Wayne and no , you can’t call me any of those.” His voice shook as his smile became a little strained, a little bit of a grumble in the undertones.
“Aww, not even ‘Little Lordling’? I thought that one would’ve won.” She pouted. The way her lower lip puffed and pushed out was adorable, but Jason needed to be strong. There's no way he was going to let anyone call him that. It would be the end of him if any of the other Bats heard of this. “So what do I call you by, oh nameless capeless savior?”
“How about you just call me by my name? Which you could’ve just asked me for instead of doing all this.” He rolled his left hand in the air as he gestured to the oddity that was this conversation
“It is absotively posolutely rude to demand such information! To ask without offering something of equal value is simply barbaric!” She scoffed and he snorted while trying to stop himself from choking on his drink. “Also, where's the fun in that? Now you'll remember me the next time you see me, you won't be so thrown off.” The smug grin on her face was frustratingly adorable and pleasantly annoying, he was not sure if he wanted to wipe it off her face or give her something else to gloat about.
“And charging someone for asking questions is not memorable enough?” One of his eyebrows rose up in question. “I feel like we’re well past dinner and a movie first.”
“Who says that's my cup of tea? Maybe I'm a video games and books kind of gal?” She raised an eyebrow of her own in challenge to him.
Damn, games and books? “Well you’re in luck. I’m a bit of both myself.” He smirked.
Oh that is cheating! You can't go looking like this, be a Wayne, and be into those! I’m trying to ask you for 4k, not a wedding ring! Her eyes narrowed as she leaned in closer. “There is a stubbornness about me that never can bear to be frightened at the will of others. My courage always rises at every attempt to intimidate me.”
“‘Pride and Prejudice’ by Jane Austen, not bad.” Jason took a bite of his sandwich. Not bad, not bad. “There are some things you learn best in calm, and some in storm,” he calmly replied.
“‘The Song of the Lark’, huh, ‘a bit’ is what you said, right?” Y/N sat back. “Consider me impressed again, Wonder Boy.”
“Quit calling me that,” he grumbled as his eye twitched.
“I have nothing else to call you.”
“Then call me by name.”
“I don't have your name.”
“You could ask.”
“That’d be rude, of course. We haven’t properly met.” She smirked.
“And how do we properly meet?” He leaned forward, resting an elbow on the table.
“Dinner and a good book.”
“Are you asking or telling?”
“That depends, do you prefer me to ask or tell?” She leaned in closer as well.
“Doesn’t matter to me, so long as you say yes.”
“Yes?”
“Yes,” he grinned. “I guess it’s settled then. Now all I need is your number.”
“Wait, what? My number?” She sat back a little in surprise.
“Yes, your number, how else am I going to get in touch with you?” He extended a hand towards her and she, still confused at what just happened, robotically handed over said device, the screen unlocked. He quickly sent himself a text through her phone and saved his number in hers. “Thanks, sweetheart, I’ll be sending you the details later. On that note, I gotta run. See ya,” he winked and finished his drink before heading out, Y/N sitting there mouth agape and utterly confused. The bell chimed again before she could even process any of it as she quickly cleaned up and got behind the counter once more, the rev of a motorcycle fading into the distance.
#fanfic#fanfiction#jason todd#red hood#jason todd x reader#jason todd x y/n#jason todd x fem!reader#jason todd fic#y/n#red hood x reader#jason todd x female!reader#jason todd x you#jason todd x female reader#red hood x fem!reader#red hood x you#red hood x y/n#batman fanfiction#batman fanfic#batman fic#jason todd fanfic#jason todd fanfiction#red hood fanfic#red hood fanfiction#dc fanfic#dc fanfiction#reader insert#jason todd red hood#jason todd reader insert#red hood reader insert#jason peter todd
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Heartbreak - the batboys
Summary: How the boys (Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damian) react (platonic) when you're broken hearted.
A/N: If you're going through heartbreak over a breakup or rejection I'm so sorry that you're hurting right now. I wish I could take your pain away. Although we don’t know each other, I can say with 100% certainty that you have so much to offer, way too much to waste it on someone who can’t/won’t appreciate you.
If you’re suffering right now, please don't give up. You got through yesterday which means you can do it again today. People often say that every day will get easier, but I know that it doesn't always feel like it; there may be good days and bad days and that's okay. Use that as a reminder that feelings, even negative feelings, don't last forever. But on the bad days, please stay strong. You've worked so hard to heal, don't let it go in vain. Progress may be slow and imperceptible from day to day, but progress is progress and I am proud of you.
You deserve all the love and happiness in the world. You deserve someone who will treat you the way you want to be treated. You deserve better and there is much better out there. If you need to hear it from someone else, take it from our BatBoys. Without further ado, here is how the boys react when you’re going through heartbreak.
Dick
If you’re hurting, Dick is hurting. He’ll do anything to help you feel better. He’ll ask you what you need from him, whether that’s someone to talk to or someone to sit in silence with, someone to wallow and eat junk food with, or someone to hit the gym with.
If you want to talk, he’s a great listener. He's patient and lets you vent and circle around and around as many times as you need, but he never lets you put yourself down. He’ll gently challenge your self-deprecating thoughts.
“Why am I not good enough?”
“Y/N,” he says firmly as he turns your shoulders to face him and leans down to connect with your eyes. “You are more than good enough.”
“Then why don't they want me?” you ask as tears pool in your eyes.
Dick shakes his head. His brows knit together in sorrow. “I don't know and we'll never know. Maybe they're going through something difficult that has nothing to do with you. Maybe they're confused. Maybe they're hung up on their ex. Maybe they think you’re too good for them and they got scared. Maybe they're looking for something different at this point in their life. There are so many possibilities but none of them matter because whatever is going through their head doesn't change anything about who you are. You are still the same amazing person that you have always been.”
"If I was so amazing then they would want me."
Dick shakes his head again. "That's like expecting every person in the world to love the same book, movie, song, food, you name it. Who's that comic book character that you're obsessed with? You're always raving about your hot take on why they're the best and how everyone's sleeping on them. Most people don't see their appeal but that doesn't make you love them any less, does it?"
Dick has a point. It's only a select group of people who share your adoration for your favorite character and that has never bothered you. In fact, that makes the character even more special to you.
If you don't want to talk about it, that's fine, too. If you'd rather consume an unreasonable amount of junk food, then Dick will clear out the local convenience store and be at your place in five minutes. He won't let you make it a habit because he cares about your health, but sometimes you just need a day to drown your sorrows in sugar.
You’re both in your comfiest clothes sitting on the couch under a fluffy blanket, even if it's 100 degrees outside. You'll just turn on the AC so you can be cozy and snug. You lean against him with your head resting on his shoulder as you eat your favorite snack in dejection. If you want physical comfort, then he'll put an arm around you and hold you close until you've eaten yourself into a sugar coma and fall asleep on him.
Dick worries about you and can't bear the thought of you suffering alone. If you laugh together, you cry together. He will be by your side as much as possible unless you genuinely want/need alone time. Eventually you might start to feel like a burden for taking up his time and disrupting his life, but don't bother pretending to be fine just so he'll stop worrying about you.
You put on your best smile, though you feel it faltering. You hope Dick doesn't notice. "I think I'm good now," you tell him. "That was the last of the tears."
Dick doesn't say anything. He just eyes you, a mixture of concern and contemplation on his face as he evaluates the veracity of your statement.
You try to hold it together just a little longer, but you crack and break down in tears again. Dick pulls you in for another hug. "I'm sorry," you mumble against his chest.
"What for?"
"For being so annoying. You must feel like my babysitter."
"You are not annoying, Y/N. You know I love hanging out with you and I know you'd do the same for me, so please, don't be a hypocrite and just let me be here for you."
Jason
Jason is best at supporting you through the anger stage of your grief. In fact, he will perpetually be in the anger stage on your behalf. If you were cheated on, you best believe that Jason will pay said slimy cheater a special visit. He won’t ever tell you about it because you’re probably going to object, but when your friend tells you that your ex was randomly beaten up the day following your break up, you can make an educated guess as to what happened. Jason knows you don’t approve of violence or revenge but it helps him sleep at night. He hates seeing you cry and if you’re crying, he’s damn well going to make sure they’re crying too.
If you’re ready to talk shit about your ex, Jason is your boy. He has a slew of creative insults to call the person who broke your heart and this man does not hold back. “Y/N, you are way too good for that assmonkey bitchface douchebag. They were lucky you even gave them the fucking time of day. Seriously, you are so fucking far out of their league."
If that weasel has the audacity to beg you to take them back? Over Jason's dead body. You are not wasting a second more on that asshole and Jason will make sure of that. If they call or text, he will not hesitate to colorfully tell them off. If they are brave (read: stupid) enough to show up at your place and unlucky enough that Jason happens to be there, Jason is absolutely going to go berserk on them.
Even if your ex didn't cheat on you, Jason won't want you to take them back. He refuses to let you be someone's convenient option. Jason wants you to be with someone who values you so much that the thought of letting you go never crosses their mind.
If you start missing that person and wanting to contact them, Jason will give you some tough love. He will physically stop you by confiscating your phone or having Tim rig it so that it can't call/text or receive from that number.
“Fuck them, Y/N. They’re trash and you dodged a bullet. Don’t tempt fate now.”
You might be craving the feeling of being wanted and chased and you probably have all sorts of wild fantasies of you and your ex rekindling the relationship. It clouds your judgement and makes you forget about all their many negative qualities.
"But maybe they've changed. What if they really love me and I'm reading it all wrong? What if I'm throwing away something special?" you object.
"Have you lost your goddamned mind? First of all, they're a moron who took you for granted. Unfortunately being moronic is an incurable and terminal illness so it's all downhill from here. Second of all, there's a thousand more just like them. If you really want to waste your time on a jackass, at least pick a new one."
Your head says Jason's right but your heart says otherwise and it's written all over your face.
"Y/N," says Jason, a little softer now. He stands directly in front of you with a serious expression. "I know you're going through hell but I've been there and back. I promise everything will be okay. Walk away with your head held high. Let go of them." Jason offers his hand for you to take. "I've got you."
And with his encouragement, you decide to move on. To help you get through this tough time, his go-to tactic is to distract you with all sorts of activities. It’s 3am and you’re feeling sad? Jason’s over at your place in a heartbeat and you’re going for a drive to get your favorite comfort food in your pajamas. You want Jason to get all dressed up and take you to a gala? Under normal circumstances, he'd rather die again. However, Jason will gladly do that if it means you aren't talking to your ex.
Tim
When you're heartbroken, people invariably tell you don't be sad because everything happens for a reason, be glad that you didn’t waste even more time on them, forget about them and find someone who cares about you. Gee, what splendid ideas; why didn't you think of those before? You know they mean well, but feelings don't go away just because you think they should. As a result, you might act optimistic and upbeat around others to spare yourself the well intended lecture.
However, keeping up the facade gets exhausting. Being social or being around high energy people can become an emotional drain. Sometimes you might want to avoid the entire world, save for Tim. It’s easy to be vulnerable with him because he doesn’t tell you how you should feel. Of course, he doesn't want you to be upset, but he understands that you need to grieve and it's okay to feel sad. Similar to how some people can sit in comfortable silence, Tim can sit in comfortable sadness.
"Did you want to do something today?" asks Tim from the driver's seat.
You shake your head wordlessly. You barely had the energy to leave your home today. Anything else would be too difficult.
"That's fine. We can chill at the manor," he says without judgement. He doesn't make you feel bad for wanting to be a hermit and he doesn't try to force you to get back out there before you're ready.
You follow Tim up to his room and you plop down on his bed. If you want some comfy clothes, Tim will toss you something from his drawers or he’ll grab some of his brothers' or sisters' old clothes.
Tim pulls back the covers for you to crawl under. He tucks you in like a child and kisses your forehead affectionately. It makes you feel loved and for a fleeting moment, the pain is gone.
If you want company, Tim will jump in on the other side and you’ll both be idly scrolling on your phones for a while. However, if you're on your phone, there's a good chance that you'll see something that reminds you of the person who broke your heart. If you don't want to talk about it, Tim won't pry. He'll open his arms in case you want a warm safe place to rest. He might rub soft circles on your back if you don’t mind.
If you do want to talk about it, Tim offers a different perspective. Maybe you're plagued by a million "if only" and "what if" scenarios. Maybe you're stuck on things you did or didn't do.
"I screwed everything up. What if that was my once chance at happiness? I wish I could go back in time and do it differently."
Some people like to focus on the positives. "On the bright side, now you have more time for your hobby." Or, "at least you'll save money on expensive dates and gifts."
They might gravitate to the old cliches, "Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all," and "there are plenty of fish in the sea." Unfortunately, none of that makes the pain any more bearable.
Instead, Tim focuses on the negatives. He recognizes that you're always going to find something to dwell on but you can use that to your advantage.
“You are the king/queen/champion of pessimism, Y/N. Even if you did exactly what you think you wish you had done, I have full confidence in your pessimistic powers that you would still find something to regret.”
Maybe something about that resonates with you. Maybe you've always struggled with indecisiveness because you're afraid to make the wrong choice. Maybe you've always felt like you're damned if you do and damned if you don't, so picking one seemed impossible. Now you realize if you're damned either way, then there's nothing to worry about.
“You did exactly what you needed to do at the time,” he assures you. "You are exactly where you need to be right now."
Even though you're understandably still sad, something in your heart tells you he's right. Being here with Tim is exactly where you're supposed to be.
Damian
Damian isn't particularly adept at providing physical or emotional comfort. It's not that he doesn't care, it's just that it’s hard for him to empathize. He sincerely wants to be helpful and tries his best but he can be unintentionally blunt and may come across as insensitive sometimes.
“Why do you want to be with someone who does not want to be with you?” he asks. Ouch. That stings. Did he have to phrase it like that?
“I don’t,” you answer, almost defensively.
“Then for what reason are you sad?”
“Because they don’t want me.”
“But you do not want them either,” he points out, not understanding the issue.
“Yeah, I know. It just hurts, okay?” you bite, irritation creeping into your voice.
"I am sorry you are upset but I am not sorry they broke up with you, Y/N."
You're stunned into silence. How could be he so cruel? To kick you when you were already down?
Then he continues. "You are genuine, thoughtful, generous, strong, and brilliant. You are a once in a lifetime soul. And them? They were nothing but a lowly simpleton who lacked the capacity to offer you the rich and meaningful life you deserve. They were foolish to let you go - likely too foolish to ever comprehend what they have lost - but I am relieved that you will not be condemned to an unfulfilling life with such a halfwit. They were merely an albatross around your neck, preventing you from achieving and experiencing far superior things in life."
That might have been the kindest thing he’s ever expressed to you or anyone else. Given how much pain you are going through, it’s probably hard to believe him right now, but you have to admit that he made you feel at least fractionally better.
“Come now, Y/N,” Damian says, tugging on your hand. “Let’s go play with Titus.”
The two of you are sitting on the couch with Titus in between. Titus is keen and quickly picks up on your emotions. He cuddles and nuzzles into your side as you gently stroke his fur. The warmth of his body grounds you and brings you some peace.
If you need a change of scenery, you and Damian take Titus for a walk. During your walk, you might come across something that reminds you of your ex. Maybe you see a cafe that you used to go to with that person. Your eyes linger on the storefront longingly and your whole body deflates at the reminder.
Damian notices your shift in body language. “What is the matter, Y/N?” Damian asks.
You sigh. “Nothing, I just - Never mind, it’s stupid.”
“I will be the judge of that,” he says, a little teasingly. “Tell me,” he demands.
You take a deep breath. “That was my favorite cafe. I introduced them to it and now it's their favorite place, too. I can't go there without thinking of them or worrying that I'll run into them."
"For once you are right. That is stupid."
"Thanks, Damian," you mutter sarcastically.
"Shall we?" He cocks his head at the cafe.
"Shall we what?" you ask in confusion.
"Go in."
You stare blankly at him. Did he not hear what you just said?
Damian explains, "you can introduce me to this cafe and then you can think of me whenever you come across it. Look, they even have a Puppuccino for Titus."
You give him a hesitant expression.
"Come," Damian encourages. He doesn't want your ex to have any bearing on your life anymore. He wants you to reclaim the things you enjoy. "Even Titus is excited to try it." Titus takes his cue and barks enthusiastically.
You take a deep breath and bravely follow them inside. You look around nervously as Damian peruses the menu hanging above the coffee bar. If Damian can sense that you are uneasy, he doesn't acknowledge it. He casually asks you what you recommend as if this coffee run was as mundane as any other coffee run. His calm demeanor eases your nerves and you start to feel more comfortable. You realize that it wasn't nearly as tough as your brain anticipated. Day by day you make new happy memories with Damian and Titus. Little by little the happy memories outshine the sad memories.
#Dick Grayson#Dick Grayson imagine#Dick Grayson headcanon#Dick Grayson x reader#Dick Grayson reader insert#Dick Grayson x y/n#Jason Todd#Jason Todd imagine#Jason Todd headcanon#Jason Todd x reader#Jason Todd reader insert#Jason Todd x y/n#Tim Drake#Tim Drake imagine#Tim Drake headcanon#Tim Drake x reader#Tim Drake reader insert#Tim Drake x y/n#Damian Wayne#damian wayne imagine#Damian Wayne headcanon#Damian Wayne x reader#Damian Wayne reader insert#Damian Wayne x y/n#batboys#batboys imagine#batboys headcanon#batboys x reader#batboys x y/n#Robinchicklets
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hihi!! idk if ur reqs are still open but :,) thinking about jason coming back from a really bad patrol, like he's all bloody and bruised and shit. cleaning him up even when he insists he's fine and kissing his bruises, just like a lot of comfort. sorry if this makes no sense LMAOO i've never requested something before!! tysm for reading have a nice day <33
thank u for the request my love !!!!!! reqs for jason r always open<333
this is roommate!verse because hngghhhhhh okay anyways !
“Oh honey, I’m home,” a sarcastic modulated voice rings out from the balcony. You don’t even have to look up from your spot on the couch to know it’s Jason.
“Don’t ask me where the redheads are,”he continues, “Thing one and two are off doing… fuck if I know.”
His voice is tight with irritation and poorly disguised pain as he all but limps into the living room.
Your eyes widen at his state before your mind settles into work mode.
“Shirt. Off now,” you say, jogging to the bathroom for the med kit stashed under the sink.
“No warm welcome, huh,” Jason teases as he tosses his helmet to the ground. He hisses as he tugs off his shirt, exposing the bruise-littered expanse of his musculature.
“I’m fine,” he rumbles, “No life threatening cuts or nothin’. Just…” he trails off with a sigh as you apply the cold antiseptic to his wounds.
He shuts himself up, despite the quiet whines of discomfort clawing at his throat. He watches you work as he fights the urge to snake a hand around your waist and keep you there, pressed snugly into him.
“Just one more,” you mutter, tapping at the gash near his jaw, “Wonder Woman bandaid?” You ask, looking up at him with those big doe eyes.
He grunts in confirmation, eyes flitting from your form to something off in the distance.
“Let me kiss it better,” You coo as you press the bandaid to his jaw.
Jason frowns as he looks around the apartment’s living room. It’s dark and empty, save for the two of you.
“Thought we couldn’t do the whole PDA thing in shared spaces,” he rumbles, a smirk playing on his lips, “You’re breaking the rules.”
“Fuck rules,” You hum, “No one gives a shit about rules.”
You press a kiss to Jason’s jaw, right next to the bandaid.
“Fuck rules,” Jason parrots, slinging his strong arms across your hips.
You kiss the J shaped scar on his face before standing on your tip toes to let your lips ghost the yellowing bruise under his eye.
He exhales, watching you intently as you press feathery kisses down his bruised neck and collarbones.
His eyes stay glued to your lips as you kiss the now-scarring wound on his shoulder.
“Yeah,” Jason airily murmurs to no one in particular, “No one gives a shit about rules.”
#my writing !🏛️🧁#batboys x you#jason todd x reader#jason todd#batboys x reader#batboys x y/n#jason todd x y/n#jason todd x you#jason todd x black!reader#jason todd fluff#jason todd reader insert
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rose's scorn
nav. | m.list
word count: 1.9k
pairings: jason todd x f!reader
warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUT, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. p in v, oral (fem!receiving) sex. minor spoilers for titans s2. is badly written a warning? unedited.
a/n: titans as a show is so shit. the plot is all over the place, the characters and relationships are cringe and form too quickly and everything is just so unrealistic, i hate it so fucking much. that being said, it did give us shirtless curran walters. i imagine this takes place around s2 e11. enjoy??
“We only have two rooms available, unfortunately.”
You groaned inwardly, sparing a glance over your shoulder at Jason and Rose, the latter of which was batting her eyelashes, her hand provocatively dancing over Jason’s bicep. You suppressed an eye roll at the sight and turned to face the apologetic receptionist, answering her with a “Fine. We’ll take them.”
You turned to face the “couple” behind you again, “You two can share?”
“What?” Jason said, his eyes running over your face, at the same time that Rose squealed, “Yes.” You took that as your answer.
The three of you had found yourself in a pretty luxurious hotel after leaving Titans tower. Dick had finally come clean with the team, unveiling the true events leading up to Jericho’s death, and you couldn’t stand being in that space any longer. You had been a part of the Titans before Jason had, so you and Jericho had come to be good friends. In fact, you were one of the first to tell Dick you were leaving, Jason immediately piping up behind you, “I’m going with her.”
The warm feeling that enveloped your chest was soon dissipated when Rose asked to join you. Without so much as a glance back at Jason, you assented, figuring that’s what he’d want. After all, Rose hadn’t really kept quiet about their kiss. She kept asking Rachel for advice on what to do while you were literally right there- not wanting to hear any of it.
Because the thing was, unlike what Rose believed, she wasn’t the only one to have kissed Jason.
The two of you had known each other for a while now, and you hadn’t been able to pinpoint exactly when your friendship had grown into…something more. One heated kiss during training, another when Jason had injured himself, leading to you standing in between his legs, his chest trembling as your fingers applied a balm to his bare skin- and before you knew it, his hand was cupping your cheek and his lips were on yours, devouring you like a man starved.
That was it, though. The two of you hadn’t spoken about either incident, wanting to stick with your comfortable, safe relationship of friends. Sure, maybe you had thought that the two of you would eventually wake up and realise what you had been missing out all along, just like in the movies. Maybe you had believed the two of you would eventually end up together, just like you belonged.
Now, it seemed unlikely, what with a certain thorny Rose in the way.
The knocks on your door come in threes, in rapid succession.
You open it to reveal Jason Todd, standing in your doorway in a grey T-shirt and shorts, presumably his nightclothes.
“Yes?” you ask, crossing your arms over your chest, cheeks heating up when Jason’s eyes flash downwards for a split second.
“Can I- Can we share the room instead?”
You blink at him, taken aback by the question. Wouldn’t he like to share with Rose? Now that they were practically together, this just didn’t make sense. Plus, would she even be okay with him coming here?
“What about Rose?” you voice your last concerns out loud, darting a glance out into the hallway, in the direction of her room, “I thought she wanted to share with you?”
“She did,” Jason allows, “It was me who didn’t want to.”
“Why not?” you ask, staying rooted to the spot as Jason moves closer to you.
He husks a half-laugh, an incredulous look in his eye as if he can’t believe what you’re asking of him, before he lowers his face so his lips are inches apart from yours.
“She isn’t you, idiot.”
Your eyes must be comically wide by now, you’re sure, but all you can say is, “Oh.”
The glint in Jason’s eye vanishes and his lip curls up in a slight frown, evidently disappointed by your lack of reciprocation, and his feet shift like he’s about to step away from you. You don’t give him the chance, though, your hands shooting out to fist into his shirt, pulling him down to meet your lips.
He responds in a frenzy, his mouth moving much faster than yours as he walks you backwards into the room, leaving you no choice but to increase your pace until you match his desperation. One of his hands wraps around your waist, the other curls at the back of your head before he pushes you up against the door to shut it, kissing you viciously, his hands taking the brunt of the force so you don’t get hurt.
It’s a small gesture, one you can barely focus on because God, he knows how to kiss, but it warms your heart just the same.
Jason’s hips rut into yours harshly, and you bite down on your lip to stop an embarrassing sound from escaping. He notices, unhooking it with his thumb before snatching it up in another kiss, his teeth scraping along your lower lip.
“You drive me crazy,” he gasps, pulling you away from the door and twirling the two of you around, walking you backwards to the bed. You’re pushed down into the mattress, given no opportunity to protest before he’s stalking up your body, meeting your lips again as he uses his weight to keep you pressed down.
“Take this off,” he says, tugging at the hem of your shirt, and you immediately go to comply before stopping in your tracks.
“Wait,” you say, and Jason stills on top of you, concern overtaking his original expression of desire. When he speaks, his words are unsteady, “Shit, are you okay? Are we going too fast?”
“No,” you say immediately, your hand reaching up to trace reassuring circles along his cheekbone, “No, this is fine. Can you- can you just turn off the lights?”
Jason frowns down at you, “But then I won’t be able to see you.”
“Exactly,” you say, “That’s the entire point. Can you please get them?”
“Y/N,” Jason says slowly, “I want to see you.”
You sigh, your eyes travelling beyond Jason’s face to stare at the ceiling behind him as you quietly admit, “I’m not much to look at.”
“Babe?” Jason gets your attention back, your chest warming at the nickname, “That’s utter bullshit.”
You open your mouth to argue, but Jason silences you with a kiss, his hips dipping to meet yours in soft grinds, so all the words that come out of your mouth after are unintelligible. He seems entirely too cocky about that, ridding himself of his shirt swiftly. Yours is thrown off shortly after, tossed in the same direction that his clothes went.
Jason audibly sputters as he realises you aren’t wearing a bra, his hands coming up to smoothe over your ribs to your breasts almost reverently. You arch your back as you let out a choked moan, only to gasp as Jason lowers his mouth to kiss around your right mound, before sucking at your nipple, his teeth coming into play moments after to scrape at the same area.
He alternates his attention between the two, the one without his mouth earning his hand instead, and you are utterly convinced that you are going to die in this bed.
“No bra,” he says into your skin as his mouth marks you, “It’s almost like you planned for this to happen.”
“No,” you weakly protest as Jason kisses down your stomach, his hands pulling off your pants and underwear in one smooth motion before pushing your thighs apart. You shut your eyes as you feel his mouth at the inside of your right thigh, needing to get the words out, you gasp, “I’m not the one who showed up with a condom in my pockets.”
Jason laughs, sending vibrations through your cunt and you jolt, earning his hand draping over your waist to hold you in place.
“Nothing gets past you, huh?” he says affectionately, licking a harsh stripe up your cunt before you can respond. It’s not like you’d be able to anyways, his mouth and fingers work in tandem to keep you speechless. He kisses your cunt sloppily, fingers slipping in and out in lazy thrusts as he works harder with his tongue. At one point, he pulls away completely, leaving you to whine at the empty feeling. He just laughs before slapping your pussy, making you cry out and tense every muscle in your fucking body, before his mouth is back to work, soothing the sting he left. You cum not long after, hard, and he works you through it meticulously, kissing your thighs as you come down from your high.
When he crawls up your body again, you’re ready, wanting to repay him for what might as well have been the best orgasm of your life. Your hands find his shoulders and you whip the two of you around, leaving you on top. You straddle him, revelling in the gasp he lets out, before you lean forward to make out with him again. You shift your hips just so, and he ruts his up into yours, your eyes widening at just how large he is. Slipping your hand down, you palm him through his shorts, his head falling back against the headboard with a thud, as if all his strength just seeped out of him. It returns just when you sneak a hand into his boxers, cupping around his cock, before his eyes fly open. “No, no,” he says, flipping the two of you back around, “Absolutely not.”
He whips his remaining clothes off with little flourish, only at the last second remembering the condom in his pocket. He rips it open with his teeth, the action turning you on more than it probably should have, before he slides it on and enters you.
“Oh fuck,” you moan, muscles tensing as he slides in, staying in place for a few moments to gauge your reaction. When you nod at him, he starts moving ever so gently, his hands pushing your thighs further apart. His thrusts are languid and torturous, you can feel every vein of his cock, every twitch it makes as you shift underneath him.
Boldly, you twine your legs around his waist and lock them, forcing him even deeper into you and he groans. It takes a few more slow, rolling thrusts before you break, your cunt tightening around him, the sensation bringing him to his own high.
“Oh God,” you say, clapping a hand over your mouth. It’s an hour later, you and Jason are back in your bed again. You had headed to the shower together to “get cleaned up” which, in reality, resulted in round two. After that, you actually cleaned up, before sneaking under the covers again, truly exhausted and in dire need for rest after your…activities.
“What?” Jason asks you, looking bemused as he pulls your hand off your mouth. He kisses it, and you feel a strange giddiness, but you push it away to answer him.
“Rose,” you tell him, “She’s right down the hall. Shit, do you think she heard us?”
“I hope she did,” Jason says, “Maybe she’ll get the hint. And if she doesn't, we can always try again tomorrow.”
“I’m going to hold you to that, Todd.”
“Wouldn’t want it any other way, L/N.”
#i'm so sorry i skimmed through this again and it is so bad i'm going to crawl into a hole and die#jason todd x reader#jason todd#jason todd smut#jason todd fanfiction#jason todd x you#jason todd imagine#red hood x reader#jason todd fluff#jason todd x fem!reader#jason todd x reader smut#jason todd reader insert#jason todd x f!reader#red hood x you#red hood imagine#red hood smut#red hood x f!reader#red hood x fem!reader#jason todd oneshot#jason todd ff#jason todd fanfic#red hood oneshot#red hood fanfiction#red hood ff#red hood fanfic#dc#titans#batfamily#titans imagine
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IRIS EYES JASON TODD
↳ you surprise jason with flowers
You come home with a bouquet of irises tucked into the crook of your elbow and the smile you reserve only for him. Jason pauses at the door, confused, even as he lowers his head for you to kiss him hello.
“Hi, handsome,” you say sweetly, lips brushing against his cheek. You turn your cheek expectantly, and Jason returns the gesture, hands brushing against your waist. “How was your day?”
“Better now,” he says, distracted. The purple is a splash of colour against your black shirt, violet and yellow, bright and pretty. “Those are pretty.”
Your smile widens as you toe off your shoes. “You think so?”
He can’t help but grin down at you, taking your bag from your other shoulder. “Yeah, baby. Who got you those?”
He can’t help it, the small flame burning low in his gut. He’s a little jealous at the thought, but buries it under the feel of you close. It’s him you’ve returned to, after all, your hand in his as he leads you to the couch.
You let out a little laugh when he sits, standing between his legs still. “Nobody got them for me. I saw them when I was walking to the subway, thought they looked pretty. Do you like them?”
First comes selfish relief, and a silent promise to fill the vase in your bedroom. And then, Jason’s forehead creases when he registers the latter half of your statement. He leans forward, still clutching your hand.
“I do, but hold on. You walked?” he asks, frowning. “Why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve picked you up, pretty.”
“It’s only a few minutes, don’t be silly,” you murmur and his lips turn down at the corners but you pay his pout no mind. “Anyway, I wanted to surprise you.”
You press the bouquet into his arms then, almost shyly, gauging his reaction with bated breath. He stills.
“The girl at the stall said they meant a bunch of things,” you say quietly, a finger reaching up to stroke one of the petals, darting up to look at him bashfully. “I liked the idea of trust, though. And hope. I mostly got them because they were pretty, and I thought of you…is that okay?”
His heart, battle-worn and slashed, beats lamely in his chest. Affection warms him overwhelmingly, and he smiles down at the flowers, blushing.
“You got these for me?” he tries to tease, but it comes out a little breathless, and you nod, biting your lip. He looks at them a little longer, pretty things nestled in his arms, before he sets them aside gently and replaces their weight with yours. “Come here, you.”
He doesn’t mention the clouds that had gathered today, or the hurt that had bled into his every movement in the morning. You don’t know that his heart had spent his waking hours squeezing painfully in his chest, or that he’d woken gasping for breath in air that had felt to him like murky water.
And yet, you come to him in the darkest hour, bearing flowers just because. He noses at your temple, kisses you sweet and slow.
“Angel,” he mutters into your mouth, hands cradling you close. “Bringing me flowers, asking if it’s okay.”
You laugh when his fingers skim your sides, and he grins into the kiss. Your hands make a home on his neck, and shoulder, knees pressing into the couch as he hauls you into his lap.
“Love you,” you murmur and he swallows it, pressing them back into the roof of your mouth.
“Thank you,” he whispers. For the flowers, for coming home to me.
thank u for this request anon !!
#jay my heart#jasonsmirrorball#jason todd x reader#jason todd imagine#x reader#jason todd reader insert#jason todd x y/n#jason todd x you
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Ok this is my first time requesting but I was wondering if you could do a Jason todd x reader with cockwarming and fluff -✌️
A “BAD” PLACE
JASON TODD X READER
MASTERLIST
WORD COUNT / 1.3k
SUMMARY / there’s a certain way jason likes to wind down after patrol, and that’s with you on top of him.
WARNINGS / cockwarming (duh), petnames (doll, sweetheart, darling), basically just a bunch of light foreplay, jason being a soft shlut, a little bit of grinding, just a lil begging
AUTHOR’S NOTE / congrats on being my first request anon <33 honestly this isn’t super smutty bc it’s cockwarming but hey!! don’t mind my headers for now they’re kinda goofy. reader is also gn in this, hope you’re good with that!
THIS WORK IS MEANT TO BE WRITTEN IN AN ADULT READER’S POINT OF VIEW. READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.
“…yes. That’s the trend we’ve recently identified with this mysterious, cult may I say.”
“What do you presume the GCPD will do about this? Do you think they’ll just leave Batman to take care of it?”
You kicked your legs up on the coffee table in front of you, burying yourself further into the couch with the help of a blanket. With a small frown, you watched as the reporter continued to nail the GCPD officer with pointless questions about the newest threat in Gotham. By the time they were done, the amount of times “Batman” had come out of their mouth totaled to.. 28 times.
Did these people not understand that there were other people fighting crime besides Batman?
Your frustrations were immediately set aside at the sound of the window just to the left of you squeaking, inviting your gaze to watch as a gloved hand waved at you from outside. You practically jumped off of the couch, sliding the latches on the window to the side before sliding the window up, allowing your mass of a boyfriend to tumble in onto the window sill. A lopsided smile was thrown your way as he took his coat off, wordlessly handing it to your subconsciously outstretched hand.
“What the Hell happened to you?”
The question came off as more of a curious inquiry, delivered with raised eyebrows rather than narrowed ones. Jason only shrugged at you before running a hand through his windswept hair, tugging off his gloves before looking up to you once more.
“Just usual stuff, doll.” He leaned forward, coating your face in a dust of warm breath. “Maybe I was thinking about you a little more than I should have.”
You scoffed at his attempt to distract you, silently backing away to prevent the friction in your pants from growing any further.
“I’ll get the first aid kit, go sit down.”
A quiet sigh followed your order, and he backed up, allowing you to turn away and head for the bathroom. Before grabbing the kit, you took a detour and tossed his jacket in the washing machine, setting a small cup of laundry detergent to the side before heading for the sink. Just a few seconds later you were back in the living room, spotting Jason sitting a little too close to your blanket for comfort.
“Hey. There better not be any blood on that blanket.”
Jason raised his hands alarmingly as you moved to loom over him, taking the blanket in your hands for examination. After a quick once over, you saw no traces of red on it, leading you to set it on the coffee table alongside the med kit.
“Anything exciting happen tonight?”
Knitted eyebrows slowly formed at your question, following a slow drag of disinfectant on his cheek.
“Not much.” He answered, swiping a hand over his bangs so you could get his forehead. “Everyone just seemed a little angrier tonight, maybe.”
“You think it’s because of this whole ‘cult’ thing?” You asked, sticking a few bandages onto the open wounds on his neck. “I heard them talking about it on the news, seems like it could get serious.”
Jason hummed lowly as you reached for the zipper in the center of his bodysuit, dragging it down to slowly reveal his chest. You stopped just above his pelvis, gaze disappointingly dragging over the small bruises that littered his skin.
“Jason..” you mumbled, the drop in your tone snapping his attention your way. “You should’ve told me you were hurt this bad, I could’ve been faster.”
“Oh, no, no, sweetheart. Don’t worry about me.” He whispered, leaving a soft peck on your cheek. “I’m okay. You don’t need to go any faster.”
A low noise of acknowledgement settled in your throat as you continued to work, taking swift glances up ever so often. About halfway through, you noticed a definite strain in his features, accentuated by the small lump sitting in his throat. You shifted, eyes widening when he let out a soft hiss.
“Jason, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing, honey.” His response was strained, accompanied by the disappearance of his eyes as he tilted his head back. “You’re just, you know.. leaning.. on a bad place.”
You immediately looked down with wide eyes, spotting one of your knees wedging a wet cloth against his pants. Yet, as you went to move, one of Jason’s hands clamped against your thigh, keeping it in place.
“I didn’t mean bad like that, keep going.”
“How could you be this injured and horny?” You chuckled, setting the cloth aside to reach for his zipper.
“Pent up frustration, maybe?”
You smiled at his stupid allusion, lightly pressing your knee against his erection through the suit. A soft groan followed the assertion of pressure, leading you to tilt his chin downwards so you could see his face. Your spare hand moved past the zipper and into his pants, softly running a hand down his cock before sealing your lips over his, swallowing the noises of pleasure that came with each languid movement.
“Not much energy, doll.” He gasped, running a hand through his hair. “I’m afraid I might have to disappoint you tonight.”
You settled the tip of your index finger against his lips, breathing a shush over his cheek before pulling his dick free from his suit. Your clothed thighs rubbed against the length as you moved, smearing precum against the space between your legs as you discarded your pants, moving for your underwear next.
“What do you want me to do, love?” You asked, lightly rubbing his jittering forearms.
“Don’t know yet.” He sighed, teeth grit together at the feeling of your thighs against his cock. “Need to be inside of you, though.”
“Magic word?”
You clenched your thighs slightly, rousing an almost pained hiss from him.
“Please, darling. Please..”
A strangled moan fell from Jason’s lips as you finally sank down onto him, biting back the pleasure threatening to escape your own lips at the feeling. You trailed sloppy kisses down his neck as he weakly bottomed out, fully stretching you out with a drawn out sigh.
“You feel so good, darling.” He puffed out, dipping a hand under your clothes to run along your back. “So good.”
“Are you gonna cum just from this?” You teased, running a hand down his chest.
“Maybe. You just feel that good.”
You hummed in response, bending down to lightly nip at his lips. The soft drag of your teeth on his flesh sent a ripple of vibrations through your body, dragged on through sloppy kisses as his hips stuttered with pleasure. Your arms hooked lazily around his neck as he dragged his tongue throughout the expanse of your mouth, drinking in every little taste of you he could get.
Yet, you could tell he was tired enough as it is, partially because of the small line of spit running down your chin at his ministrations. You also didn’t want anything going wrong in case you both fell asleep, leading you to carefully unlatch yourself from his dick. A soft groan of protest followed while you wiped him clean, deciding that he could just wait until morning to shower.
After zipping his suit up, you headed for the bathroom, cleaning yourself up as well and refilling the med kit before setting it back under the sink. Upon your return to the living room, Jason had curled up to the side, your precious blanket draped over his chest. A quiet snort of amusement caught itself in your throat as you settled down beside him, earning the drape of his right arm over your side.
“Love you.”
The words fell in a mere whisper beside your ear, rousing a smile on your features as you pecked his cheek.
“Love you too, now go to sleep.”
#arqhms#arqhmsthirst#batman#jason todd#red hood#jason todd x you#jason todd x reader#jason todd smut#red hood smut#jason todd x gn!reader#jason todd x gender neutral reader#jason todd reader insert#jason todd x y/n#jason todd fanfiction#red hood x reader#red hood x you#red hood x y/n#red hood fanfiction
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“You, uhm–kinda touched my–yeah..” from the sexual tension prompts + best friend!jason who’s had a crush on you since you were kids ??? i would give you my firstborn child
A/N: not in need of a child but i appreciate the willingness 😌
C/W: nothing explicit, just some light dick fondling lol.
You’re dozing in Jason’s arms and it’s perfect. You’re perfect, laying there, mouth open cutely. Sometimes you mumble nonsense before you snuggle closer, prying his warmth from him.
He feels a little like a creep, but you’ve never mentioned an opposition to it; never told him off.
Therefore he indulges, just a bit, because he can’t have all of you. Can’t have more than this.
He loves you—in the way a best friend shouldn’t—so he cuts himself on the comfortable moments. His heart swells at sights like these, and it expands until the thorns are nestled deep, forever embedded; forever a part of him.
It’s worth it to know you, he thinks. To have your light in his life.
Jason’s startled from his thoughts as you rouse, rolling closer. Your nose tickles his throat. You let out a hushed garble as you’re slow to wake.
Your hand slips out from under him and trails across his abdomen. It’s a slow descent that doesn’t stop. Every muscle in his body freezes painfully as you brush his low stomach. His heart sets off at a sprint.
For a minute, your fingers linger, and then they keep going, and fuck, they’re on his pants.
Don’tyoudaredon’tyoudaredon’tyoudare— he mentally screams at his crotch.
“Good morning,” you rumble sleepily.
Jason tries for a snort, though it’s more of a rasp. “Nope. It’s, like, two AM.”
He feels you smile against his skin. He wonders whether your hand is moving mindlessly, or if you’re being plain evil on purpose.
“You, ah…” he mumbles, petering off. Most of his brain power is going towards suppressing a boner.
“What?” you hum. “Did I sleep-talk again?”
“No…” Jason says. “You’re…” He inhales deeply and a flush swallows his neck. “You’re touching my—uh, yeah.”
He feels your eyes on him, burning him. You’re amused, he’s sure of it.
“What?” you repeat casually, feigning confusion.
He huffs. “You’re squeezing my goddamn dick, you asshole.”
You laugh at his indignation and he’s not entirely sure how to feel because clearly you’re fucking with him.
But then your fingertips slip beneath the elastic of his sweatpants. He sucks in a breath. They slide lower still, brushing through his scruff. He shivers.
“What’re you…?” Jason stumbles over his words. He tries to say your name, but it’s vanquished from his mouth with your mouth. Your tongue traces his bottom lip, hot and sour.
And suddenly, your hand encloses his length, and his mouth parts in shock. He grabs your wrist.
“I can’t,” he says, voice raw. “I can’t. Not if it doesn’t… mean something.”
You lean back so you can look at him. “Jason,” you say quietly, eyes not leaving his, memorising the emotional gloss of his ocean gaze. “It’s always meant something. We’ve always meant something.”
Once more, you brush your lips over his teasingly. “I’m just finally doing something about it.”
#jason todd#jason todd x reader#jason todd x you#jason todd reader insert#dc imagine#fic*#jtfic*#jtdrabble*
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