athenagc94

[athenagc94]

[athenagc94]

Thanks for tagging Luna!

Tagging anyone who wants to take part!

Tag game: make yourself as a little guy

Tagged by: @thanatos-zagreus-shagreus

Tagging: @thiamsxbitch @rhyslahey @myinnerguineapig and whoever else is up for doing it 💙

[athenagc94]

dad bod jason heheh

[athenagc94]

This is a day late but it’s Wednesday somewhere, I’m sure (it is not). Anyway, happy WIP Wednesday. Here’s Tim being a little shit.

[athenagc94]

Show Me How You Like It

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader — 18+ MDNI

TW: Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Finger Sucking, Light Dom/Sub, Sub Jason Todd, First Time, Hand Jobs, Praise Kink, Porn with Feelings Word Count: 2,254

Jason was less certain about this part. 

While you weren’t his first partner, sex never enticed him the way it enticed others. Don’t get him wrong. He wasn’t completely opposed to the idea of physical intimacy, but it took time for him to warm up to the idea. The moment had to feel right. With the right person. Jason didn’t do casual... well, anything. It had to mean something. You understood that and never pushed him to do anything that made him uncomfortable. 

He was finally ready to take that next step with you. 

It wasn’t intuitive. That daunted him. He’d never pretended to be the type of guy who slept around. You would have seen through the flimsy charade in an instant, but he couldn’t help but feel a little self-conscious by his lack of experience. 

Jason knelt on the ground in front of you, calloused hands sliding up your bare thighs with intent. Clad only in your bra and panties, the sight of you sprawled out on the bed before him was familiar. You two had made it this far in the past. Stripped down to your underwear, muscles taut with anticipation as you traded gentle kisses and soft caresses.  

You wanted more with him. He sensed it every time your fingers teased the band of his underwear or nipped a little too hard at his lower lip. Even if you refused to admit it out loud. He knew. Tonight, he planned to reward you for your unending patience. 

“Is this alright, love?” he asked as he inched closer to your hips. 

“You know I love it when you touch me,” you purred as you trailed your fingers through his hair. Your nails dragged across his scalp, a pleasant sensation trickling down his spine like rainwater that pooled in his lower belly. 

He buried your face in your lap and groaned. “I’m ready.” 

Your fingers stilled in his hair. “Are you sure?” 

“Never been surer of anything in my life. I want to make you feel good.” 

You considered him, the slow trail of your fingers resuming once more. He suppressed a violent shudder that curled his toes. “As usual, I’ll go at your pace.” 

“No.” 

Again, you stopped. “No?” 

“I—” 

Jason swallowed thickly before peering up at you once more. You stared back, a soft curiosity furrowing your brow as you waited for him to find the right words. Patient, as always. His thumbs dipped at your hips, slipping beneath the band of your underwear. You had enough self-restraint to maintain eye contact despite the hitch in your breath. 

“I’m very new to this aspect of a relationship, but I want to do this for you,” he started slowly, “If you’re willing to show me, that is.” 

Your tongue darted out to wet your lips. “Show you?” 

“Show me how you like it,” he clarified timidly, “A demonstration, maybe?” 

He might have missed the way your thighs squeezed together if he wasn’t holding onto them like they were his only lifeline. Panic tightened his chest. Asking you to pleasure yourself in front of him might have been a step too far. He hadn’t meant to make things weird.  

He just wanted to— 

“Anything for you, babe.” You settled back on your elbows and spread your legs for him, revealing the damp spot on your panties. His throat dried as he stared at it, then quickly looked away, almost losing his nerve. You curled your finger under his chin and lifted his gaze to meet yours. Sensing his hesitation, you asked, “Are you sure?” 

“Show me,” he breathed, “Please.” 

You traced his lower lip with the pad of your thumb. “Open.” 

Jason obliged. 

Two fingers flattened his tongue until he gagged. Tears gathered in his eyes as he exhaled sharply, willing his throat to relax as your head lolled to one side. Your smile broadened. “You’re such a good listener.” 

Oh. 

That was… 

Oh. 

He liked that more than he thought he would. For a man desperate to please, hearing your praise stirred something in his chest. 

...And his pants.  

He sat a little straighter, eagerly awaiting your next directive. For you, he was very good at following directions. You twisted your fingers gently and continued, “Get these nice and wet for me. I want them to be dripping as much as I am.” 

Jason choked out a garbled moan. His tongue swirled around your fingers, shameless with how eager he took them. All the while, he never looked away from you. Some small part of him hoped you would praise him again.  

Your lids turned heavy as drool dripped from the corners of his mouth and down his chin. Finally, you withdrew your fingers, the digits glistening in the dim light. 

“Very good.” 

His teeth sank into his lower lip to muffle his whimper. Shit, the way your voice grated on your throat really did something for him. It was never too late to learn something new about himself, he supposed. 

You tugged your underwear aside to reveal your glistening folds. You allowed him a second or two to admire the sight before your fingers disappeared inside. Jason clenched his fists, unsure where to look. The slow pump of your fingers, the way your hips twitched with the motion, or how your toes curled in the sheets. 

In the end, he focused on your face and the noises you made. Your brow pinched as you worked yourself open. Every soft gasp and sigh that fell from your lips left him tingly and hot. “What do you think about?” 

“You.” Automatic, firm. You left little room for self-doubt.  

He pressed his cheek to your inner knee, hiding his giddy smile in your skin. “I love you.” 

You didn’t respond, too lost in the sensations of pleasure to even hear the proof of his devotion. He didn’t mind. The sight of you coming undone was enough to keep him sated. For a time. The longer the show went on, the more impatient he became. It wasn’t fair, making you do all the work when he had two perfectly good hands. 

“Can I?” The question spilled from his lips before he could stop it. 

You bit off your moan and turned a lust-filled gaze toward him. He swore he stopped breathing. The sight of you flushed and panting was more enticing than he realized. You removed your fingers and wiped them on the sheets. He frowned, almost disappointed that you hadn’t offered him a taste. 

“Come here,” you said with a curl of your finger. He crept closer, breathing shallow as you took one of his hands. Your lips grazed the bridge of his knuckles, the palm of his hand, then a kiss on each of his fingers. When you reached his pointer finger, you took it in your mouth, coating it with your spit. 

His hips bucked the air, finding no relief, but that thought fled as soon as the second his finger brushed the back of your throat. You held his gaze, unfazed. When you released his fingers with a wet pop, he slanted his lips over yours. A sigh tumbled from your mouth as you kissed him back. 

His slick finger drifted between your legs, probing and curious as he traced your folds. They fluttered faintly around him as he pushed inside. His fingers were larger than yours, and from the sharp cry that wrenched from your throat, you felt the difference. 

“Y-Yes, good. So good,” you panted against his lips, “Use your thumb on my clit.” 

He brushed his thumb over the small bud as he curled his finger inside you, earning another mewl of approval. Between the heated kisses and the thrust of his fingers, you unraveled with a heady moan that made his head spin. Your orgasm was quick. He would have missed it, if not for the way your legs tightened around him. Heavy breaths fanned across his face, your thighs trembling in the aftermath of your orgasm. 

Jason withdrew his fingers to study the slick that covered them. He gave them a tentative lick, then another, more overt, suck when he discovered he didn’t mind the taste. God, he could get used to the taste of you.  

“Was that good?” he asked between licks. 

You buried your face in your hands. “Yes, dumbass.” 

Jason snorted. “What happened to babe?” 

“That’s reserved for when you don’t ask stupid questions.” You uncovered your face to grab his instead. “I love you. That was wonderful. Do you want to keep going?” 

“I said I was ready. That meant everything.” 

You kissed the tip of his nose. A soft feeling welled in his chest that told him he’d made the right choice. You made it easy for him to be vulnerable. He knew that to be the case, but this moment confirmed it all over again. “We have the rest of our lives for everything. What do you want tonight?” 

“You,” he said firmly, “All of you.” 

“You already have me.” Your hand trailed down his chest, over the soft layer of fat that cushioned the hard planes of his stomach. He used to feel self-conscious about his softer belly, but the look you gave him any time he tugged off his shirt banished any doubts he had. You stopped just shy of the band of his underwear.  

His cock strained against the fabric, already half-hard. You gave him a thoughtful look, seeking his permission. He nodded.  

Your hand slipped beneath the elastic band to stroke him. He’d touched himself before, but your firm grip left stars bursting at the edge of his vision. Embarrassingly, he almost came then and there. Jason buried his face in your neck to muffle his groan as he thrust into your hand, seeking more despite how dangerously close he was. 

“Someone’s eager.” 

“Shut up.”  

He pressed a chaste kiss to your shoulder, then another, more overt one to the hollow of your throat. You craned your neck to give him better access. It was the perfect distraction as you worked him closer to the edge. He felt it—a white-hot coil within his lower belly that threatened to snap. His eyes fluttered shut.  

So close, just a few more— 

You stopped. 

Jason cried out in protest, nearly collapsing. 

“Soon,” you cooed as you removed your hand, “You said you wanted everything. If you come now, our fun’ll be over.” 

Damn your logic. 

He willed himself to stand, knees shaking as he wandered over to your nightstand. Pulling open the drawer, he grabbed a condom. You were prepared in case he ever changed his mind, and now he was glad you were. After rolling it on, he turned back to face you. You’d already discarded your bra and panties and laid sprawled on the bed. His mouth hung open, struck dumb by the sight of you. 

“How do you want me?” you asked. 

“On my lap.” 

You smirked. “Shocking.” 

Jason loved to grab your ass. Sue him. He didn’t deign to respond as you rolled aside to let him sit. Once he’d settled on the end of the bed, you crawled onto his lap. Heat radiated from your center, hovering just over his flushed tip. You held his gaze once more and asked in earnest, “Are you sure about this?” 

If he said no, you would stop—no judgment, no questions. While your concern for his comfort flattered him, Jason knew what he wanted. He placed his hands on your hips and eased you gently onto his cock. You inhaled sharply as you stretched around him, nearly wringing that orgasm from him once more. He stopped, for both your sake and his, and waited for the fire in his veins to subside.  

In the silence, the opening lines of The Odyssey painted the backs of his eyelids in his desperation to prolong this moment. 

Jason pressed his forehead to yours. “Ready?” 

You breathed out a laugh. “Are you?” 

“Yes.” 

You eased down the rest of the way until he was fully sheathed inside you. He kissed you, slow and lingering, as you lifted your hips, then sank back down. He hissed against your lips, that coil in his belly tightening with the strain of his muscles. You found a rhythm, something steady, something agonizing. His fingers curled around the swell of your ass as he tried to quicken your pace, but you maintained the same steady rhythm that left him whimpering. 

“Breathe,” you mumbled against your lips. 

He breathed. 

“Good. You feel so good. I’m—” You choked on a moan, and he echoed it. “I’m gonna—” 

Your walls tightened with your second orgasm. You lost all sense of rhythm as you rode out the waves of your pleasure, finally giving him the speed he so desperately craved. The coil snapped and his release surprised him, painting his vision white as he emptied inside her. Your name tumbled from his lips like a prayer. 

He fell back on the bed, dragging you with him. Sweat coated your skin, glistening like stardust. 

“That was—” Jason ran his fingers through his damp curls, willing his heart to stop racing. “That was wow.” 

You nuzzled his bare chest. “Your eloquence astounds me.” 

He had no witty remark for that. His mind had shattered and he’d yet to muster the strength to piece it back together. You felt so warm, your skin pressed flush to his. He kissed the top of your head. 

It was you. 

Always you. 

Only you. 

------------------------

A/N: Surprise.

Usually, I have to write a plot to justify writing smut, but one could argue I wrote 100K worth of plot in Dear Daddy Long Legs to give y'all this. If it wasn't clear in DDLL, Jason Todd is absolutely the sub in this relationship.

[athenagc94]

hey!! (please dont see this as pressure, its not intended that way)

do you have any thoughts on if/when beetle and bowstring will be completed? those final 2 chapters call to me from the void. I spend every day with my head in your story.

i say this knowing my own WIP has about 5 chapters left to write and I also last updated it in January. its hard. I get it. you got this tho!! especially as I see you have another WIP going right now.

uhh anyways idk how to round this off so here's an official review of beetle and bowstring: [screaming into a pillow with feet kicking wildly]

Hey! No worries.

I’m glad Beetle and Bowstring has resonated with you as much as it has. I do hope/plan to finish it at some point (I literally have the last two chapters mapped out. I know what happens, just gotta write it which is the curse of every writer I’m sure). The issue I’m running into is that I haven’t played Palia in a hot minute and I kinda fell out of the fandom.

Don’t worry, I’ll get back to it at some point and get the inspiration to finish it, but I don’t know when that’ll be. My interests come and go like the tides and I literally have no control over them. I don’t want to give y’all a haphazard product just to say I finished it, so be patient as I wait for the will/inspiration to hit me once again.

Again, thank you for reading and I’m so glad you liked it!

[athenagc94]

Another WIP Wednesday!

Alas some people like meet cutes, but the reader and Tim shall have a meet ugly. It’s the only way.

Also, 90’s aesthetic Tim all the way.

[athenagc94]

miss athena, ddll has been an absolute dream! thank you so much for all of your hard work! the last few lines...

Because there was still so much life left to live. And Jason couldn’t wait to finally live.

absolutely wrecked me! jason deserves the world 🥹

(also, on my knees begging for a cameo/throw away line about jason and ddll!reader in some future chapter of smoke and mirrors, please 🛐. i need him and reader together in uni so they can both achieve their dreams. i don't care what strings you have to pull for a supposedly dead man to get his uni degree! [this is a joke, of course. absolutely no pressure!])

to celebrate, please accept this absolutely emotional and beautiful comic i've been holding onto for the longest time

https://www.instagram.com/p/DEbgbJqsLXY/?igsh=MXFwbGVwamx4bzB5cw==

(please open in the instagram app if possible because the bgm is essentially 😌👌)

yours truly, 🥞

Aw 🥞 thank you so much for your kind words. I love the comic you shared. It’s such a good one and I want Jason to be happy too.

As for your request, needn’t you worry, Jason will appear in the next fic. It’s already planned 😊 reader may or may not be mentioned as well hehe

[athenagc94]

The last chapter was so good im actually mourning the fact Dear Daddy Long Legs is over. And I thank you for the upcoming Tim fic because there is a CRAZY lack of Tim fics on A03. Specifically good ones. And I’m confident that yours will be good since the Jason one was amazing.

Thank you so much. Writing the fic was an absolute pleasure and I’m so happy that I was able to finish the project. Ending a story is always the hardest part for me because I don’t ever want the story to end 🥲

The Tim fic should be interesting. Probably another slow-ish burn and pretty plot heavy but I like plots lol. Hoping to get some good writing done here in June so I can look at posting in July or August but I have a benchmark of what I’d like to have written before posting the fic.

(hint: it’s around 10 chapters written and I’m on chapter 5/6)

Again! Thank you so much for reading. The outpouring of support has been amazing and I’m so, so appreciative.

[athenagc94]

Dear Daddy Long Legs - Chapter 30 (Final Chapter)

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

First | Prev

Chapter 30

Stressed didn’t even begin to describe how Jason felt.

He passed his letter off a week ago. Steph made no promises, but he hoped she was more merciful than the serious turn of her mouth suggested, but he’d heard nothing since then. Did she give it to you? Had you already read it? If so, why hadn’t you reached out?

Silence was, of course, an answer, but silence was more painful than outright rejection.

In the days that followed, he overanalyzed what he wrote. Was it too much? Not enough? Were the gritty details necessary to make his point, or could he have softened the narrative with more flowery prose? No, that would have been a disservice to you. The truth wasn’t flowery, it wasn’t romantic. He had to accept that.

But the what ifs were killing him.

He couldn’t sleep, so the next best thing was to eat his feelings at Bat Burger. Not the healthiest coping mechanism, but neither was beating the shit out of Black Mask’s goons. He could only tun laps around Park Row so many times before he ended up outside your apartment. Choking on a greasy burger sounded far less painful.

As he pushed through the doors that led out of the fast-food joint, a bag of burgers and fries tucked in the crook of his arm, the odd sense of being watched struck him. He learned to trust that instinct early on but continued down the sidewalk as if he hadn’t noticed.

When he rounded the corner three blocks later, he could still feel those eyes on him. It was unlikely that they were following him to knab one of his burgers. He slipped a hand under his jacket to grip the gun that hung off his belt.

“I know you’re watching me. You have for the last three blocks.”

“Boo. You’re no fun. This is what I get for going sans costume.”

Steph appeared suddenly behind him, her wild curls fastened by a purple bandana. Jason immediately relaxed as he pulled a few fries from his back. She stole one before he offered, not that he planned to because she pulled shit like this.

“What are you doing here?”

“I, the swift and agile Dionysus, come bearing the message of the fair Juliet to her Rhett Butler.”

Jason swore he was having a brain aneurysm. Where did one even begin with all the wrong in that singular statement, but he tried anyway. “You mean Hermes?”

“I do not.”

“Juliet is Shakespeare and Rhett Butler is Margaret Mitchell.”

“So?”

He couldn’t help himself. “They’re not even from the same era.”

“It’s all the same to me.”

She easily dodged the burger he lobbed at her head. It bounced a few times before stopping further down the sidewalk. She gasped, feigning a look of shock. “That was a perfectly good burger. How dare you?”

Jason reached for the second burger, prepared to waste another.

Steph threw up her hands. “Geeze, someone’s in a mood today. Did you completely miss the part where I said I have a message from your sweet lovebug. Still think that’s adorable, by the way.”

His hand fell from the paper bag, stunned. “What?”

She pulled a letter from her purse and waved it teasingly over her head. “A letter from Juliet to her fair Romeo.”

Why did people always use Romeo and Juliet as the pinnacle of romance? He had a long list of better literary couples. Lizzie and Darcy, Odysseus and Penelope. Hell, if she wanted to keep in the vein of Shakespeare, he would have suggested Benedict and Beatrice. Their love story was far more realistic.

“Dude, did I fry your brain or something?”

Jason dislodged himself from his internal monologue before it became an external monologue. After wiping the salt and grease off on his jeans, he reached for the letter.

She drew back before he could.

He scowled. “Seriously?”

“I really like her.”

His chest ached. “I really like her too.”

Like didn’t even begin to cover it, but his way his heart bled for you was no one’s business but his own. And maybe yours. Definitely yours.

“Oh, good. I’m glad we bot agree. Then you won’t take it personally when I tell you not to fuck this up. I’d have to pick her side in the divorce, and you’d never see me again.” She placed the letter in his outstretched hand. “And that would be a travesty.”

He chose not to reward that with a response.

Steph smirked. “Want to hear your horoscope for the day?”

“I’m sure it’s something about me being a dumbass for letting my pride get the best of me.”

“Something like that.” She punched him lightly on the arm. “Don’t wait too long to see her, alright? You two were made for each other.” Swiping another fry from his bag, she stuck out her tongue and bounded around the corner.

Jason waited a beat before he ripped into the letter, not wanting to appear too eager. Your letter wasn’t nearly as long as his. Just a single page written in green ink. He took that as a good sign. Knowing its contents terrified him, not knowing was worse.

Dear Daddy Long Legs,

Dear Bruce Wayne,

Dear Mr. Darcy,

Dear Red Hood,

Dear Jacob,

Dear Jason Todd,

A man with a million names.

As I list them out now, I realize you’ve succeeded in touching every aspect of my life, even the parts I wasn’t aware of. That was never more glaringly obvious now that you’re no longer in it. When I accepted the Jason Todd Memorial Scholarship (along with all the strings attached), I promised myself that I’d never fall in love with my mysterious benefactor like Miss Abbott had, but here I stand.

I have fallen irrevocably in love with you.

Every mask, every name. Red Hood, Jacob, Jason. Whatever name you choose is inconsequential because it’s the man behind the name who’s stolen my heart. That was always the case.

I accepted that in loving you, I would have to exist in shades of gray. Admittedly, learning you were also the man behind my scholarship made gray a little muddier than I would have liked. I had no idea how to respond to the revelation at the time. I panicked, but I now see it came from a place of good intentions.

Your intentions have always been good.

You are good.

I know you don’t believe me, but seeing as you’re human, you’re allowed to make mistakes. I’ve seen your heart, the fire in your eyes, and all the scars that come with doing good.

I love you more for it.

You don’t have to do anything with this letter, but I thought you should know how I really feel, and this seemed like the most appropriate way to tell you.

I’ve been patient.

I can continue to be patient.

There are chapters of your life that you’d rather not talk about, and I respect that. Just know that it’s the man you are today that I fell in love with, not the man you were.

My heart is yours, should you choose to accept it.

You know where to find me when you’re ready.

Reading your letter had always given him this warm, cotton-soft feeling in his chest, and this time was much of the same until he read ‘I have fallen irrevocably in love with you’.

That’s when he started to burn.

You loved him.

He’d almost written similar sentiments, but writing those exact words made it real. There would be no turning back because Jason loved with his entire being. But seeing those words, he realized it was already too late. He was so hopelessly in love with you. All the signs were there, but the idea that Jason could love and have that same love reciprocated was a foreign concept.

You chose him.

You continued to choose him. Even when he felt he didn’t deserve it. Being wanted despite all his flaws was new territory for him. There was always this unspoken expectation that he had to do more, be more, but you weren’t asking for anything but his love.

He needed to see you.

Now.

It couldn’t wait another second.

You’d waited for him to make the first move long enough. This time, it was Jason’s turn to bridge the gap.

***

Jason arrived outside your apartment twenty minutes later, dressed in his street clothes. No Red Hood, no shitty disguises, he wanted to face you as himself.

As Jason Todd.

The last time he tried this, it didn’t end well, but he was determined to do everything right this time. His stomach lurched with anticipation as he approached the call box. A month wasn’t very long in the grand scheme of things, but it felt like an eternity when he’d gotten used to seeing you daily.

He buzzed your apartment and waited.

Silence.

He tried again.

Still nothing.

He wandered around the back to check your window that emptied out onto the fire escape. The blinds were closed, your apartment dark. He flexed his fingers irritably.

Ah, fuck.

Alright, new plan.

He’d find the highest building in Gotham and jump off it, because he should have realized you’d be working around this time. Grand romantic gestures only worked if you were home.

He left the way he came, heading toward the subway terminal a few blocks down. A full moon brightened the sky, lighting his way as he walked. Disappointment simmered in his chest. And here he thought nothing would go wrong. A bitter laugh burbled from his throat as he shoved his hands in his pockets.

It was a stupid idea anyway.

He should have sent you a text to ensure you were—

“Jason?”

He stopped dead, blood coating his veins like ice. His gaze lifted to you, standing a few feet away. No uniform, but you wore your yellow hoodie. It was such a welcome sight that yellow might just be his new favorite color. You gripped a canvas bag filled with groceries with a trembling fist as you stared at him in disbelief.

“Jason?”

You stepped toward him.

He matched your step with one of his own, holding out his arms timidly as he presented himself. “That’s my name.”

Another step. He could almost touch you, and shit, he wanted to more than anything. One more step. He brushed your cheek softly with the ridge of his knuckles featherlight in case you were a vision, and his touch was the thing that would bring reality crashing down again.

And if that was the case, seeing you was a beautiful dream that he never wanted to wake up from.

You closed your eyes and leaned into his touch, confirming that you were real. That this was real. Emboldened, his fingers curled around the base of your neck, drawing you in. “Jason, Jacob, Jensen, Jerimiah. I’ll call you whatever you want if it means you’ll stick around long enough to hear me call you it.”

He cracked a small smile. “Jason is fine.”

“So, Jason.”

God, he loved the way you said his name. To think, he’d deprived himself of the pleasure of hearing it spill from your lips.

“I assume you got my letter?”

“I did,” he confirmed, “And you got mine?”

“More of a light novel if you ask me,” you teased as you smoothed the front of his jacket. His heart hammered beneath the slow drag of your palm. “But I don’t mind. You know how to tell a captivating story.”

“And you still want to give me your heart?” He pressed his forehead to yours. “After reading it?”

“I really do.”

“I would offer mine as well.”

His free hand settled on the small of your back. It felt like coming home. You felt like home. It might be the sappiest thing to ever cross his mind, but he didn’t care. It was the truth, and the truth felt as nice as the warmth of your body pressed to his.

“But I think you already have it,” he continued as he traced the length of your nose with the tip of his. You nudged it, nearly bridging the gap between your lips. “You stole it the moment I met you.”

“My apologies.”

His lips grazed yours. “Don’t apologize. You were always meant to have it. I want you to have it.”

“Do you really mean that?”

“I don’t want to lie to you anymore. I love you with every fiber of my being, and being apart from you feels like dying all over again.” He cupped your jaw loosely. Tears gathered in your eyes, and he wiped them away with his thumbs. “If you’re willing to give me another chance, give us another chance, I’ll spend the rest of my life showing you how much you mean to me.”

You twined your fingers through his, your chest now flush with his. It still wasn’t enough. He needed to get you closer. Temptation burned like an open flame, threatening to turn him to ash. “Will you let me?”

“I forgave you the moment you left.”

His breath caught in his throat. “We really are idiots, aren’t we?”

“No. I’m stubborn and rightfully cynical of the world, and you were afraid of losing me. Your fears were founded given the way I reacted, but I’m not going anywhere. I now see the appeal of shades of gray, and I don’t think anything is scaring me away now.”

“So, you’ll let me love you?”

In lieu of an answer, you kissed him.

Jason melted. His lips worked fervently against yours until his lungs ached, but even then, he didn’t stop until you broke away first. You kissed the tip of his nose. “I love you, Jason Todd.”

Jason Todd.

Not Jacob.

Not Red Hood.

But Jason fucking Todd.

At the back of his mind, several questions surfaced. What about the scholarship? What about your education? Was he ready to come back from the dead? To move on, and pursue the dream he’d put on hold for the sake of revenge and anger?

He shoved those nagging questions away and pulled you in for another kiss. He poured everything into it. His love, his devotion, and all the dreams he’d put on hold because he thought it was too late for him.

It wasn’t too late.

Admitting that to himself, he felt like he was shucking a weight he’d carried for far too long. Neither of you needed to have the answers to those questions right now. Life was all about figuring things out. Being human was about figuring it out. You and Jason would navigate that path together, deciding which chapters mattered and which were best left in the past.

Because there was still so much life left to live.

And Jason couldn’t wait to finally live.

--------------------

A/N: And that's a wrap. I want to thank everyone who's followed along with this story. Your support really gave me the motivation to keep going and your support meant the world. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

If you weren't aware, I am working on a Tim Drake x Reader fic that takes place in the same universe as Dear Daddy Long Legs, so keep an eye out for that if you're interested.

I'll likely make a post as it gets closer to being ready to post, but if you'd like to be tagged in future updates for that fic, let me know :)

Again, thank you all so much. This fic was so much fun to write.

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[athenagc94]

Dear Daddy Long Legs - Chapter 29

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

TW: Mentions of Death

First | Prev | Next

Chapter 29

College was nice while it lasted.

Yes, that might be a tad melodramatic given you never got a letter in the mail that said your scholarship was null and void. Nor did anyone at Wayne Foundation reach out demanding restitution for the money you’d used thus far. But, come on, it had to be coming. And even if those letters never came, you refused to accept the money. There were other means to pay your tuition.

Certainly, ones with a lot less strings attached.

You would probably have to take a gap year to pad out your savings and look for new opportunities. It wasn’t ideal, but you’d waited this long. Pushing your education off another year wasn’t the end of the world.

But it might be the end of your world.

When the writing club had its last meeting this week, Chloe was kind enough to ask what classes you had slotted for the fall. Instead of making up something on the spot, you made up an excuse about work or a paper or a paper you needed to finish for work. Honestly, the details were kind of fuzzy.

Now, you were folded over a tray of hors d’oeuvres like your life wasn’t falling to pieces.

Screw Jacob.

Or Jason.

Or whatever his name was.

Why did he have to come into your life like a whirlwind and make a mess of things? A beautiful mess, but a mess, all the same.

“Hey!”

You looked up from your platter as Evan slipped into the catering kitchen at the Gotham banquet hall. One day, you’d never have to touch another serving platter, but that day wasn’t today. Nor was it any day soon. At this rate, you might as well sleep in the back of the catering truck to cut costs.

Evan hid his hands behind his back and smiled, revealing his missing incisor. When you looked at him, you saw a young Jason smiling back at you. It curdled your stomach.

“I have good news.”

You forced a smile. “And what would that be?”

He revealed the sheet of paper hidden behind his back. You took it and flipped it open, revealing a report card. It was mostly B’s, though he finished the quarter with an A in math. He was quick with numbers when he took the time to sit down and use them. You noted the C in English, but you expected that. It was one of his weaker subjects. The fact that he eked out with a passing grade at all was a marked improvement.

Your smile turned more genuine. “Holy shit.”

“I know!” Evan bounced on the balls of his feet. “My advisor said I should start thinking about college. I’m not sure if I can afford it without a scholarship, but I might be able to get into a technical college or go part-time so I can keep working with you...”

He rambled, but you didn’t care. Hearing him talk about going into higher education was the best news you had all month. Your throat clenched around nothing as you studied the grades once more.

“My advisor said I should have a few letters of recommendation at the ready. My GPA is on the lower side, but depending on my SAT scores and those letters, I might have a shot. I was wondering if you would write one for me?”

“You want me to write you a letter?”

Again, you couldn’t help but think of Jason.

He fiddled with the buttons on his sleeves. “Only if you want to, but I look up to you, I guess.”

If you weren’t crying before, you were now. With tears in your eyes, you flung your arms around his shoulders and pulled him into a hug. “Of course, I’ll write you a letter. I’m so proud of you.”

He gave you a quick squeeze, and you almost sobbed. He had no idea how badly you needed this hug. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll get into GU too, and we could be students together.”

Evan meant well, but his words were like plunging headfirst into icy water. Nice as that sounded, that seemed unlikely for a lot of reasons.

When you broke away from him, you quickly wiped your tears and ruffled his hair. “I’ll do what I can to make that happen, kiddo. Now, let’s get to work. This bruschetta isn’t going to plate itself.”

The party came and went, uneventful for the most part. Mark no longer worked for your company. Your boss didn’t tell you why, but you assumed the drugs had something to do with it. Whatever. You weren’t sad to see him go. The world still turned, but you felt stuck.

By the time you finished cleaning up with Evan, exhaustion had settled deep in your bones, but a twenty-minute train ride stood between you and your bed.

You found a seat in the far corner of the mostly empty subway car. Resting your bag in your lap, you shuffled through its contents until you found the book tucked away at the bottom. The Odyssey translated by Emily Wilson. It was a comfort read, despite the vaguely bittersweet pang in your chest any time you cracked it open.

No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. The good, the bad, and everything in between. You weren’t aware of how much you thought of him until he stopped coming around. You hadn’t seen him, not even as a blur of red on the night sky.

He did exactly as you asked and gave you space.

That irked you.

The fact that it irked you, irked you more.

Just as the doors were about to close, another person dashed onto the car. Tall with dark hair mostly hidden beneath a blue ball cap. Your heart skipped a beat as you looked up.

Jas—

No.

He looked similar to him, save for his brown eyes and the scarless face. You missed his steely blue eyes. They painted the backs of your eyelids whenever you closed yours, but it wasn’t the same. You scolded yourself and tried to focus on your book, but that too had soured now that you’d gotten your hopes up over nothing.

The ghost of Jason Todd, ironic as that was, haunted your life, but you wanted more than his ghost. Life wasn’t nearly as vibrant without him in it, but you’d been the one to push him away. You should have had him stay. You should have sat down and talked through things like the adults you supposedly were. No more running, no more building walls to protect yourself from being vulnerable.

But should haves didn’t make things right now.

You needed action.

As the car pulled away from the platform, you devised a plan to make things right. Writing had gotten you into this mess. It was going to be the thing to get you out of it too. One more letter. One last shot to do things right. The only question was how to get it to him. The PO box was probably gone, not that you’d ever send it there.

This letter wasn’t for Bruce Wayne.

It was for Jason Todd.

Most people would call you crazy for writing to a dead man. They would tell you that you’d have better luck reaching him through a Ouija board, but there had to be people out there who knew the truth.

People who were close to him.

Family.

Friends.

Your book closed with a snap as the realization struck you. That was it. You knew exactly where to start your search.

***

Steph sat at your usual table in the student center with a purple smoothie and a half-eaten bag of sour gummy worms. The red end of one poked out between her lips as you settled in the chair across from her, jaw set in a determined line.

“What’s with the face?”

“I need to get something to Jason.”

The faintest pinch in her nose confirmed what you suspected. Steph knew his real name all along. You couldn’t blame her for keeping his secret. It wasn’t hers to tell, but she could make up for it now.

She ripped the gummy worm in half and chewed. “I don’t think I know any Jasons. Wild, I know.”

You stared at her, unimpressed.

She shrugged and popped the other half of the gummy worm in her mouth. “Worth a short. How much do you know?”

“How much do you know?”

“I asked you first.”

You glanced over your shoulder. Several students sat around them, but the closest ones wore large headphones to block out the bustle of the student center. They were unlikely to hear this next part, but you lowered your voice anyway. “I don’t know. You tell me, Spoiler.”

She gasped. “You bitch. How long have you known?”

“A blonde vigilante dressed in purple appeared outside my place in the middle of the night and blamed Mercury being in retrograde for Jason getting dosed with fear toxin.”

“Weird shit happens when Mercury is in retrograde.”

She really wasn’t helping her case. It was a wonder how any of them kept their identities under wraps. “Come on, Steph. I might not have guessed Jason was using a fake name but give me some credit here. I know you’re not Batman.”

“Psh, Batman wishes he was me.”

“How many of your friends are actually vigilantes?”

“Not that many. Like one or two. Twelve tops. They’re mostly Ti—shit, forget you heard that.” She stuffed another gummy in her mouth to avoid talking, but it didn’t work. “Ya know, some of my friends, like you, are just normal people.”

“And what is Jason?”

“Jason is...” She chewed thoughtfully. “He’s complicated.”

“That’s an understatement.”

Steph shrugged as if she hadn’t just been outed as a vigilante over a bag of gummy worms and a smoothie. “It comes with the territory. Well-adjusted people don’t wear masks and fight crime, not even me. Shocker, I know, my life seems so put together.”

“So, say I wanted to give him something,” you began as you pulled the letter from your bag, “How would I go about finding him?”

“I wasn’t lying when I said he doesn’t come around often. He and the Bat don’t really agree on how to combat crime, so it’s easier for Red Hood to work as a solo act. He claims to prefer it that way, but I don’t know. His whole vibe screams child sidekick if you ask me.”

“Do you know what happened between us?”

“Seeing as you’re using his real name, I can hazard a guess, but no, he didn’t tell me anything. Not when—” She closed her mouth so fast, her teeth snapped.

Your eyes narrowed. “You’ve been in contact with him.”

“Once. A week ago. We crossed paths while out on patrol. Well, that implies it was a happy accident, but he sought me out. The lovesick fool wanted me to give you this.” She pulled a manila envelope from her bag. It was heftier than yours by a concerning degree.

Your pulse quickened.

“I didn’t know if you wanted it or not, so I held off on giving it to you until you brought it up on your own, but God, you two were made for each other. How did you both settle on writing each other letters like a pair of star-crossed lovers? It’s nauseating.”

“Says the girl who’s been taking ASL classes with Cass.”

Steph flushed scarlet. “Do you want me to give him your letter or not.”

“Please. I’m afraid I’ll go crazy if I hold off any longer,” you said as you slid the envelope across the table. She did the same with his. When you picked it up, you turned it over in your hands, trying to imagine what he could have written.

“Let’s raincheck for later this week,” Steph said as she shoved the letter and her bag of gummies in her bag, “Something tells me you’ll want to be alone for this next part.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“You said it yourself. I think you’ve waited long enough.” Her voice was firm, but not unkind as she slung her bag over her shoulder. “Your horoscope for today said you needed to face the things you keep putting off.”

“Why do I feel like you made that one up to make your point?”

She winked. “Guess you’ll never know.”

With that, she headed off, leaving you alone with whatever awaited you in this envelope. It was weird being on the receiving end of a letter for a change. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you ripped it open.

Hi.

I’m not really sure what to write.

Well, that’s not entirely true. There are plenty of things I want to write, but I have a feeling this is already going to be pretty long as it is, and I don’t want to bore you. Most pressingly, I want to apologize. I shouldn’t have lied to you. Jacob was a stupid name, and I shouldn’t have let it go on as long as it did.

And the letters to Bruce Wayne… I’m sorry for deceiving you.

I was a coward.

You had every right to turn me away, but now that I’ve had time to sit with my poor decisions, I realize I still owe you the truth. All of it, even if it makes you hate me more. So, here it is.

Fair warning, it’s not a happy story, but it’s mine.

Make of it what you will.

And he did. Pages upon pages of it. Jason told the story of a boy who came from nothing. With loving parents who were far from perfect, until one day, they were gone too. He was alone in the world.

I preferred it that way. I knew how to take care of myself. I’d been doing so long before my mom died of her overdose. It wasn’t anything new. I had an affinity for lifting tires off cars. Shocker, I know. One day, I got bold and targeted the wrong person.

Or the right person.

It’s all perspective, I guess.

A man of great influence, Bruce Wayne, plucked him off the street and gave him a life he only ever dreamed of. He wasn’t alone anymore, but with it came the weight of expectation. He was out of his depth, but he tried to make things work.

Bruce opened the door to a world of opportunity. Much like I wanted to do for you, but I’m getting ahead of myself. Back to the story. I wanted to use my new life for good. I could make the world a better place, not with charity galas or schmoozing with rich folk who didn’t give a damn about me, but under the cover of night.

I found magic in an unlikely place.

I became Robin. Not the first. That was some other guy who did it a lot better than I did (which is a secret I want you to carry to your grave. If he learns I even hinted that he was better than me, I’ll never hear the end of it.)

You reread that passage, ensuring you hadn’t misunderstood. Red Hood had been a Robin? Did that mean Bruce Wayne was Batman? Is that what he was telling you? Most people suspected there had been more than one kid acting as Robin. Nearly twenty years had passed since the first one appeared, after all, but you never expected…

You shook your head as you cast your judgments aside until you had finished reading. You still had several pages to go.

For the first time in years, I felt like I had the means to be the change I wanted to see in the world. I wanted to do right by it and help the people who needed it most. It was a thrilling time.

Until suddenly it wasn’t.

Jason was killed by the Joker’s hand when he was fifteen. There was no terrorist attack abroad, not really. He’d gone after his birth mom who’d sold him out to the Joker. Despite that, broken and bleeding, he’d tried to save her until his dying breath.

A lump formed in your throat as you recalled the scar on his cheek. J—not for Jacob or Jason, but for the Joker. You clasped your hand over your mouth to keep from whimpering.

The story should have ended there, but it didn’t. I woke up, clawed my way out of the grave and… what happened after was a little fuzzy. I wish I could tell you more. I was taken abroad by the League of Assassins (long story—again, the details are a little fuzzy), but I eventually found my way back to Gotham.

I was angry.

Vindictive.

Starved for revenge.

In all the time I’d been gone, nothing had changed. Rogues still ran rampant through the city. And worst of all, the man who’d orchestrated my death was still alive. Clearly, my death meant nothing.

He did things he wasn’t proud of, but you already knew that part of the narrative. The guns, the crime, his tenuous relationship with Batman. It all made sense now that you had the context behind it.

You weren’t sure where else this story could go, but as you flipped to the next page, that lump in your throat threatened to burst.

One day, not so long ago, I met a woman on the subway. She wore a yellow hoodie as she read Wuthering Heights. We talked about books and for the first time in years, I felt a little less like a monster. When we parted ways that night, I never expected to see her again.

But fate has a sense of humor, I guess.

He recounted the night he saved you from being mugged. That felt like ages ago. Another lifetime, in fact.

This woman was smart and brave and rightfully cynical of the world. She had a dream. It was a lot like a dream I had once upon a time, though I’d long since abandoned it. A half-dead kid would never go to college, but it wasn’t too late for her.

Oh.

Oh no.

I wanted to help, so I did something stupid. I pulled some strings. Used the influence I’d turned my back on and got her a scholarship for a foundation in my name.

The letters were meant to be clever. An ode to her favorite novel and nothing more. We were never meant to see each other again, but I couldn’t stay away.

The more I got to know her.

The more I got to know you…

The web of lies grew, and I was stuck. I didn’t know how to break free, and I was afraid of what would happen once I did. I couldn’t imagine a life where you’re not part of it, love.

Your teeth chattered as you fought back a new wave of tears. This was a complicated emotion. Neither good, nor bad, but raw and so, so real. Words couldn’t do this feeling justice, but it was visceral.

The money is yours. No more letters. I don’t expect anything from you. That’s the way it should have been from the start, and I refuse to let you drop out of college because I’m an idiot who lets my lies get away from me. You’ve always been capable of more than you give yourself credit for.

I, Jason Peter Todd, chose you for a reason. Not Bruce Wayne, not his foundation, but me. I would do it again. And again, and again, if it meant I had a moment of your time.

Because it was a beautiful moment.

Please, love. Don’t give up on your dreams.

Dreams are the real magic.

That’s where his letter ended. You wiped your tears, only slightly embarrassed to be caught crying in the middle of the student center. You probably should have taken the letter home to read it there, but it was already done.

His story answered some questions, but like the head of a hydra, they multiplied, leaving infinitely more in their place. You understood why he made these choices. How could you not after he poured his heart and soul into every page. You wanted to gather him in your arms and kiss each of his scars until he knew, in his heart of heart’s that nothing he shared changed your perception of him.

But that would have to wait.

You would have to wait.

What happened next was entirely up to him. You just hoped your letter inspired him to make the right choice.

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A/N: In case you were wondering, this was the chapter that made me tear up while writing it. One chapter left!

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@bungunz @emu-lumberjack @goldendistrict @qardasngan @rues-lovely-memoir @sawendel @banana-lol @anuttellaa @k-tblog @wujiscarrot @umiexe @4rachn3 @rheaphobic @flowery-fa @theendofthematerialgworl @overthebriarpatch @moonsunlights

[athenagc94]

I really like the whole “other members of the Batfam can mimic the Robin, report! to a degree where they actually respond as if it’s Batman,” but I raise you:

What if other Gothamites learned to do the same thing?

The first time it happens, Jim is panicking. He’s got an injured bird on his hands and no idea where Batman is. The kid isn’t responding no matter who asks questions, and suddenly the GCPD is treated to Commissioner Gordon doing a scarily good Batman impression, to the point Robin immediately responds

Word doesn’t necessarily get out right away. It happened in the precinct building, so the only witnesses were cops. But the rumors start in bars with drunk men telling anecdotes, with officers coming home with stories, and it spreads from there.

Eventually, people know that if you channel Batman and go “Robin, report!” the bird will go from gasping desperately in pain to a robotic list of injuries. EMTs learn to do this as part of their training. The Bats don’t go to hospitals, but they will let someone do emergency first aid on them.

Interestingly, it doesn’t just work on Robin. Gotham knows, regardless of what the rest of the world thinks, that their little birds grow up to become other Bats. It’s why their rivalry with Blüdhaven over Nightwing is so vicious. That’s their little bird the city is claiming. Blüdhaven did not raise him, Gotham did.

Of course, not all of the Bats were Robin. Signal flipped someone off for trying the trick, and Black Bat pulled out a sharpie and drew a sad face on a civilian’s hand when they were trying to see how injured she was after falling several stories due to a snapped grapple line. So, the trick isn’t universal.

The most surprising one was when someone found Red Hood, half-buried in rubble with a slash across his neck, and barked out the order in a panic and he immediately complied.

It wasn’t Batman who told the city he was their dead little bird. It was the panic of a passerby just trying to do the right thing.

After all, Gotham may not acknowledge it, but all of them love their birds. They are protectors, and not just from the rogues. They help with the murders, yes, but they also do small stuff. Stop muggings. Talk people down. Slip résumés into the right hands, guide people to the right clinics.

And just how the Bats protect and help the people of Gotham, Her citizens help and protect them.

[athenagc94]

Happy WIP Wednesday.

Here’s another snippet from the Tim Drake x Reader fic. It was a slow week, but this part made me laugh.

[athenagc94]

miss athena, i've started reading jane austen's persuasion recently, and i couldn't help but think of a jason!persuasion au. picture this: gotham elite!reader and jay being childhood friends through circumstances and grow into smth more... only for reader's parents to persuade her otherwise bc he's just some crime alley runt. years later, jason comes back as bruce wayne's adopted son??? he's got the class, status, and wealth that her parents would approve of now, but he comes back bitter and angry that reader had broken off their relationship all those years ago. thoughts? -🥞 anon

Oh, 🥞, my heart.

I think this would be a really good premise for an AU, certainly. The drama, the tension, the courtship. I love the regency era and it gives the vibes for a second chance romance.

Also lots of angst.

[athenagc94]

Dear Daddy Long Legs - Chapter 28

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

TW: Blood (not overtly described) and smoking

First | Prev | Next

Chapter 28

The letters stopped immediately. 

Jason expected that would happen, but it didn’t stop him from religiously checking the PO box for the next week. When it was clear he wouldn’t be hearing from you, he reached out to Tim to amend the scholarship. No more letters, no more contact. You would still get your money if you chose to accept it, but he had the sinking feeling that now that you knew where it was coming from, you’d decline the scholarship altogether. He would hate to see you put your dreams on hold to prove a point, but you were stubborn like that. 

Crime Alley had snuffed another dream. 

Who was he kidding? He couldn’t blame this on Crime Alley. It was his fault, and his alone. 

Steph was right all along. He inserted himself where he ought not to be, and now he had to face the consequences of doing so. He had a bad habit of ruining good things, so why not taint what he had with you? His intentions were good, but good intentions had a way of coming back to bite him in the ass. It was easier to do dubious things and hope he stumbled into good along the way. 

You asked for time, and he respected that. The execution of his confession was far from perfect. It wasn’t a confession at all. You found the truth yourself while he stood there like a gaping fish. Even when the opportunity to tell the truth presented itself on silver platter, he had to go and spit in it. 

Jason had to trust that you’d reach out when you were ready. Or maybe that was the last time he’d ever hear from you. 

He tried not to think about it. 

He couldn’t. 

Not unless he wanted to go to a very dark place. 

So, instead of crashing out like every instinct told him to do, he settled on something more (barely) productive. He passed the Black Mask case to Tim, including full reign of his territory and all the evidence he gathered over the last few months. Tim might have had something snarky to say, but Jason wasn’t around to hear it. 

He skipped town shortly after, leaving his phone behind so no one could bother him. The temptation to check his phone every five seconds for a message from you was too strong. There wouldn’t be one, so it was easier to leave it behind. 

Artemis and Bizarro waited for him with a long list of clients seeking their expertise. It promised a hefty paycheck and a perfect distraction, so Jason jumped at the opportunity to drown himself in mercenary work. 

It worked for the first week. 

But as time wore on, the darkness found him. Work could only do so much. It couldn’t protect him from the quiet nights when he was left alone with his thoughts, with his regrets. He couldn’t escape, no matter how hard he tried to distance himself from the mistakes he left behind in Gotham. 

Running wasn’t working. 

Again. 

So, crash out it was. 

That was how he found himself here, pinned to the ground by a harpy. At least, that’s what he was calling it. Artemis vehemently denied his claim. But he saw the body of a bird and the head of a beautiful woman. If not a harpy, then why harpy-shaped? He’d read the myth of Jason and the Argonauts, and yes, he did see the fucking irony now. 

Their most recent venture led them to Crete, yet another check mark in the totally a harpy box, by the way, to find a relic for their client. He was a collector of rare pieces of Mediterranean origin, though he was painfully vague on the details save for a few amphoras that depicted a hidden temple of Zeus. A lot of people would cry myth, but ya know, Jason had dug himself out of the grave and he was currently wrestling with a harpy, so anything was possible. 

Hooked feet pierced the leather of his jacket and dug into the meat of his shoulders as it dragged him across the remnants of a cobbled street. Where was it taking him? He wasn’t too keen to find out. 

Jason twisted in its grasp, ignoring the way its talons shredded his skin as he wrenched himself free. Reaching for his gun, he only allowed himself a second to compose himself before he shot. His bullet clipped its wing, passing harmlessly through its feathers. 

Damn it. 

He tried again. 

It dodged at the last second, impossibly fast as if it were made of the gales it rode on. Feathers flitted around him like petals in springtime. This is what he got for rushing headfirst into the ruins without the others. He, honestly, didn’t remember doing so. One second, he was with the others, doing some light surveillance of the area, and now he was here. 

As the harpy doubled back to come at him again, he closed his eyes and braced himself for impact. 

He deserved this. 

If Jason hadn’t lied. If he told you the truth from the start. None of this would have— 

Artemis lunged at the harpy, her sword arcing in a clean sweep that severed its wing at the joint. Brackish ichor sprayed from the wound, coating her blade like an oil slick. It fell heavily on its side, its dulcet birdsong shifting to a haunting wail. With a hard look on her face, Artemis drove her blade down on its throat, silencing it for good. 

When it stopped twitching, she turned her glare on him. “Your masculine audacity astounds me sometimes.” 

“Yeah, same. Where’s Biz?” 

“Finishing off the others. Sirens travel in packs.” 

Jason pressed his hand over the gash on his shoulder to staunch the flow of blood. “Sirens? No way.” 

“Modern mythos has warped their image to resemble that of a fish woman, but that was undoubtedly a siren. She lured you with her voice, not that you seemed to notice until she had you pinned. You are fortunate this one liked to play with her food.” She flicked the blood from her blade. “You would have known the dangers if you waited like we discussed. You are a mess, Todd.” 

He smiled through the pain as Artemis yanked him to his feet. The strength behind it nearly pulled his arm clear from its socket. “Tell me something I don’t already know.” 

She crossed her arms, unimpressed. “I am sending you home.” 

Home. God, he hated that word. “You can’t bench me.” 

“And yet, I just did,” she said with a knowing slant of her brow, “I refuse to sit back and watch you get killed because you have decided to lose all sense of self-preservation. Whatever happened in Gotham is no concern of mine until it effects business. I—” 

“She no care for you.” 

Her eye twitched as Bizarro touched down next to her. A siren had slashed through his shirt to reveal the unblemished pectorals beneath. Must be nice to have skin tougher than steel. 

“It is unfortunate that I am put into a position to tell you that this is not the way to work through your feelings. As they say, it is the pot calling the kettle black. However, that would insinuate that pots and kettles are equal, and they are not. You are a flimsy kettle.” 

If Jason wasn’t actively bleeding, he might have had a leg to stand on, but now wasn’t the time to argue with her. “Gee, thanks.” 

“She says it to be mean,” Bizarro said sympathetically, “You are doing great. You no need to go back.” 

He shook his head. “I can’t go back to Gotham.” 

“Once, I would have loved to hear you say those words to me. I had wanted it more than you realized, but that is why I know you must. As much as I hate to admit it, you cannot quit that city. Nor can you quit its people.” Her gaze sharpened. “None of them.” 

Not even you. 

“So, what? You want me to fly back without a fight?” 

“Unless you would rather swim home? I hear the Mediterranean is balmy this time of year.” 

Jason grimaced. “I hate you.” 

“The feeling is mutual.” Her tone suggested the opposite. “I do hope that you can return to us in peak form eventually, but it is clear to me that you are simply running.” She placed a hand tentatively on his arm. One would almost say comforting, but Artemis would never admit that. “And I would like to meet the one that has so thoroughly fucked with your head. It seems she does not put up with your shit. An admirable quality.” 

Bizarro peeled back the strips of leather and Kevlar to study his wounds. “We no want to meet her. So, you fuck this up.” 

Jason laughed despite himself. If only they knew the half of it. He hadn’t been the most forthcoming of what went down between you and him, but it seemed they’d filled in the blanks themselves. 

“Yeah, we’ll see.” 

*** 

Jason recalled the night he met you. 

Your yellow hoodie, the strings chewed to pieces. 

Your worn copy of Wuthering Heights. 

The wariness in your gaze he’d grown fond of. 

Your conversation made his return to Gotham feel a little warmer, but that wasn’t the case this time. He arrived outside his main safehouse without preamble. It looked the same as the day he left it, untouched and uninspired. It was moments like this that he missed the organized chaos of your studio. 

He shrugged off his jacket and trudged across his living room, pointedly ignoring the phone he’d left on its charger in the kitchen—right next to Viola, the plastic succulent.  

A warm front pushed in while he was gone, leaving the air thick. He shoved open the window that led out onto the fire escape. Time had long-since corroded the lower landing, but his remained sturdy despite the creak of the grate under his boots. 

Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out a carton of cigarettes he purchased from the bodega around the corner. A year had passed since he last smoked. It was a bad habit Jason returned to when life felt particularly bleak. It hung loose between his lips as he brought the lighter to the end. 

The familiar burn of nicotine filled his lungs. It didn’t help, per se, but it felt productive. Thin strips of smoke seeped through his teeth as he flicked some ash over the railing.  

Per Artemis’ demands, he came back. 

Now, what? 

Jason ran his fingers through his hair. He should have considered his next steps on the plane, but what he did next depended entirely on you. If you didn’t reach out, he wasn’t about to bully his way back into your life. 

“That’s a nasty habit, ya know?” 

He sputtered, choking on his next inhale. 

That voice. 

Babs said he was out of the country. 

Dick hoisted himself over the edge of the railing, dressed in his street clothes. He made it look effortless as he twisted into a handstand that pulled the fabric of his shirt taut across the lean muscles on his back. Show off. With a soft grunt, he shoved off and stuck the landing beside him. The grate groaned under their combined weight, and Jason felt less certain about its structural integrity than before. 

“So, I’ve been told.” He offered him the carton. 

Dick pulled one out and pressed it between his lips. Jason lit the end and watched as he took a long drag with the grace of someone who’d done it before. Only Jason knew the truth. Dick had been the one to teach him how to blow smoke rings, not that any of the others would believe that little Dickie would ever smoke. It was a memory he held onto like precious gold. 

“When did you get back?” 

“About three weeks ago,” he said with a half-smile, “Tim told me you skipped town.” 

And yet, he’d miraculously appeared the very night he got back. Jason could smell the bullshit from a mile away. “Who sent you to check in on me? Artemis?” 

“Please, we both know she’d have sent Roy.” 

“She still might.” 

“Then it’s a good thing I got here first.” Dick knocked shoulders with him. “Between you and me, Roy gives shit advice.” 

“Is that why you’re here? You give shit advice too.” 

“Rude.” Dick leaned against the railing. Despite his grumbling, Jason shifted over to make room for him. “Here I am, trying to be a good big brother, and this is the welcome I get.” 

Their relationship was complicated. Familiar, but complicated all the same. Case in point, this was the first time he’d seen Dick in almost a year because he couldn’t sit still for more than five minutes.  

Jason couldn’t shake the hooks that Gotham used to drag him back, but Dick, he was desperate to spread his wings and fly. 

He’d always been that way, even back before he died. He rarely came home, too busy being a hero and making a name for himself that was separate from Batman. Having him for a brother was like that sibling that was always away at school. 

Some things didn’t change, but that had. 

Dick tried to be more present for Tim, for Damian. With every new member that joined the Bat family, Dick went out of his way to make them feel welcome. Jason knew things had changed. His death may or may not have had something to do with it, but Dick never confirmed that it had, and he never asked. 

“Alright, fine, if Artemis didn’t send you, who did?” 

“Would you believe it if I said Bruce?” 

Jason blotted out his cigarette. It wasn’t scratching the itch like he hoped it would. “No.” 

“Yeah, I didn’t think so.”  

His laugh skittered across his bones as he took another drag. It had always been vaguely unsettling, but he’d toned it down around others. Not with him. When it was just the two of them, he dropped the pretense. Dick was far from the golden boy everyone claimed he was, and he allowed himself to relax around Jason who had seen the wrinkles in his facade long before he smoothed them out. 

“Alfred asked me to check in.” 

“Now, that’s more believable, but barely.” 

Dick puffed his cheeks. “Alright, fine, he didn’t actively say those words either, but it was heavily implied. I’ve learned to read between the lines.” 

And that was more believable still. Jason flicked and unflicked the lighter, watching as the flame danced on it wick. “Why doesn't anyone in this fucking family knows how to communicate?” 

Dick shrugged. “No idea. Probably why you’re in this mess now, yeah?” 

He shot him a narrow look. “What do you know?” 

“Enough. You’ve taken a page from the Tim Drake school of using fake names with the girl you like. Bold move. Not what I would have done, but we can’t all be perf—” He couldn’t even finish that statement without bursting into another peel of laughter. 

Jason flipped his lighter off. “Are you here to give advice or do you just want the credit for saying you did?” 

His expression turned more serious. “I was waiting for you to ask for it. Something tells me that’s as close as I’ll get, so here it is. You made a bad call, but that doesn’t mean all is lost. She already knows you have a vigilante identity and that’s, honestly, half the battle in our line of work.” 

“She seemed to like Red Hood a lot better than she liked the man under the mask.” That wasn’t true. Not even a little bit, but if he said it out loud, maybe he could convince himself it was. Your silence might hurt less if he believed Red Hood was the true object of your affection. 

“It’s because you never gave her a chance to know Jason Todd.” 

If anyone else in their family saw fit to appear suddenly outside his apartment, spouting the same bland ass advice, Jason would have started shooting, but Dick said it in earnest. He sat with his suggestion for a few moments as Dick finished off the rest of his cigarette.  

There were no expectations beyond his thoughtful reflection.  

He knew Jason well enough to know he couldn’t be forced to draw a conclusion before he was ready. 

And he was right, of course. 

You knew him, but not really. There were aspects of his past that fundamentally shaped who he is as a person, and you deserved to know about them. He never gave Jason Todd a chance. 

When Jason finally nodded, Dick flicked his cigarette butt over the railing. “So, when do I get to meet her?” 

“Never, if I can help it.” 

“Prick.” 

“Dick.” 

They shared a conspiratorial smile. “I missed ya, man.” 

“I’m right here.” For better or for worse, Jason was here. Gotham was his home, whether he liked it or not. But if it meant spending the rest of his life with you, maybe this city wasn’t all bad.  

“I’m not going anywhere.” 

*** 

In the serene quiet that followed Dick’s departure, Jason settled at his kitchen table, daunted by the blank sheet of paper laid out in front of him. Dick made it sound simple, but nothing about his life was simple.  

You deserved to meet Jason Todd. Not just the bad parts, not just the parts that were vaguely bittersweet parts, but the good parts as well.  

And there were good parts of his life. 

He decided a letter was the best way to tell his story. It was more romantic, and Jason was nothing if not a bleeding poet at heart. 

As he brought pen to paper, one thing became clear. 

He was going to need a lot more paper. 

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A/N: I overcame my fear of writing Dick Grayson. Anyway, we're on the homestretch, friends. Two chapters left.

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[athenagc94]

Le gasp! I am loving the new look of your Tumblr navi! And is that a sneak peak for title of Tim's fic 🤭 (Also DDLL has been emotionally wrecking me. I love it.) -🥞

I was wondering if someone would notice the update I made this afternoon lol. Thank you!

I never anticipated to emotionally wreck people in this way, but I’m glad I could evoke such strong emotions with this story. We haven’t even reached the chapter that made me tear up.

Granted, I’ve had this emotional devastation planned for over a month now, and had been eagerly awaiting to unleash it.

[athenagc94]

The thing about Stephanie Brown is once you love her character, you fucking love her, there's no going back.