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margotwhites · 15 days
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Jason Todd the only fifteen year old to get victim blamed for literally DYING
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margotwhites · 16 days
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THE TRAGEDY OF BRUCE AND JASON'S RELATIONSHIP IS NOT THAT BRUCE DID NOT LOVE JASON ENOUGH ITS THAT BRUCE LOVED JASON SO MUCH THAT, NO MATTER HOW MUCH BRUCE WANTED TO KILL THE JOKER, EVEN IN THE DEPTHS OF HIS DESPAIR AND HATRED, HE KNEW THAT IF HE DID HE WOULD BE IN PART SPITTING IN THE FACE OF THE IDEALS THAT HIS SON DIED FOR AND HE COULD NOT LET HIMSELF TO DESTROY THE HEROIC LEGACY OF JASON TODD, BUT WHEN JASON RETURNED HE TOOK BRUCE'S UNDYING DEVOTION AND SWALLOWED RAGE FOR APATHY
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margotwhites · 17 days
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Extremely thrilled to finally post my big feast for @gwynrielweeksofficial 🖤 enjoy!!
Commissioned with Artcraawl (here)
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margotwhites · 1 month
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margotwhites · 1 month
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he will use every chance he gets to be a drama queen and if he doesnt have one he will create one
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margotwhites · 1 month
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personally i’m obsessed with troy baker’s performance as ak!jason, voice modulator or not he sounds sexy as fuck. def masculine, def raspy, and god is he a smart ass
Yessss Definitely. It's such a good performance, the feelings, the angst, everything goes right. Even so, that is a young, not completely formed Jason, and that just makes the angst portrayed even better.
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margotwhites · 1 month
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margotwhites · 1 month
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margotwhites · 1 month
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What do you think Jason's voice should be like? Personally, I don't imagine his voice as Jensen Ackles voice...
Well probably something deep. I can't see him having a boyish voice; but also not extremely deep. Just... masculine. I also don't see him as Jensen Ackles voice, as much as I LOVE Jensen.
I never really considered this, and I don't really have someone who I think would have his voice.
Either way, is probably a raspy, masculine voice lmao (that's so vague but yeah)
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margotwhites · 1 month
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Jason Todd x female reader
Summary: You pissed him off more than anyone else in the world. With your killing, with the dirty job you do. The truth is, you asked for what was coming for you. And he was more than happy to deliver.
Warnings: SHORT SMUT (it's not super long.) dirty talk, degradation, very mean Jason
Disclaimer: english is NOT my first language, so probably there are mistakes. Feel free to correct me.
Your heels collide against the floor of your apartment. It was a nice place — expensive, full of luxuries that you were able to provide yourself with. You were proud of yourself, really. Accomplishing so much in such a little age. You know how people see you. How your friends perceive you. A rich heir, a daddy’s girl. Little do they know you are your own daddy, or whatever the phrase is. It doesn’t matter.
Little do they know that you kill people for a living. You’re such a sweet girl. So polite and happy. You snicker, thinking about the idiots the surround you. None of them realize your little disfarce. They think you truly are the innocent, charming little girl that makes everyone love her. It’s almost irritating, how nobody ever sees the real you. They don’t seem to realize the person behind the smile, the killer behind the delicate body.
You grab a cigarette, lightning while sipping a Blue Label from an elegant glass of whiskey. Observing Gotham lights from your giant window, that extends from your feet towards the roof. Your office, inside your penthouse apartment. Today, today was a good day. Today you deserved a Blue Label. Nothing more; it wasn’t good enough for a Macallan Valerio 1926, even if you do have the bottle. But it was good enough for a Blue Label.
So you drink, and appreciate the view of Gotham. Gotham, that provides you with so much opportunities. It’s not a city for everyone. Hell, it isn’t the best city for almost anyone. But for you? Gotham was perfect just as it is. Dirty, rough and wicked.
Today is going to be a good night, you think. You couldn’t know how right you were.
Finally. He was finally able to track where that bitch lives. Jason is not one that usually delivers those kind of offensive words towards women. In reality, that’s his line. He is okay with murder, hell, he is one, but misogyny is the line for him. But you. You deserve every single bad word he can thinks of. He despises you.
Six months ago, a bunch of killings started to happen in the higher classes of Gotham. Entrepreneurs being killed at cold blood, for no clear reason. Then, his own targets started to come down too. The crime lords, the drug lords, the sex traffickers, all coming down, one by one. He thought it was a good thing. Someone else is also doing the job. He didn’t felt jealous his targets were being taken down by other hands. Hell, he was happy.
But those who remained, the criminals that remained, those weren’t being taken down. They were growing, expanding their business. And then he thought they would be over too, if not by his hands, by the hands of whoever that was ending everyone with such ability. But it wasn’t the case. He realized, maybe too late, that there were specific man who had protection.
With a quick research of his own, asking the right questions at the right contacts, he found out. It wasn’t a vigilante who was ending the criminals or the business man. It was a hired assassin.
And he knew he had to take you down when you started killing innocent people for money. When it wasn’t just the douchebags anymore. It was just rich people, being killed because your clients wanted to take over the money or the business. Does he have a huge amount of sympathy for rich snobs? No. But an innocent is an innocent. And he wasn’t letting that slide.
But you had a pattern, he realized. No women or children. Those were not killed. Mostly, your victims were rich, white man. It doesn’t make it any less worst for Jason. Well, maybe a little, but even so, he needs to take you down. But what really pissed him off is not the work you do. What pisses him off the most is how your always, always one step ahead of him.
But not anymore. He was finally able to track your home, after three months of search. Gotham is a huge city, and you hid your tracks so well he didn’t even know your name till now. He never saw your face. He just knows you’re a woman. And now, where you live. Well, he expects he is right about it, because if he isn’t, he’s going to invade an extremely wealthy apartment and that might cause problems.
So he just hopes his informants were right.
You were inside your bathtub, big enough for ten people, reading a deliciously smutty book and drinking red wine. You didn’t have much time for romance in your life, unfortunately. So you read books, that deliver you a tingling sensation in the pit of your stomach. Your hair was up in a bun, showing your elegant features.
Jason enters the apartment through the window of one of the living rooms. The sight of the luxurious apartment, bought with the blood of innocent people, disgusted him. He stepped carefully, observing the surroundings. The light was off. Maybe you were out working or attending to a ball. He knew you did that a lot. He gets into one of the corridors, and realizes there is no one in this floor. But there is stairs in the end of the corridor, and he goes up to the second floor.
The second floor is just as big as the first, and every light is off. He enters inside another living room. No — a library. Then at a second kitchen, a cinema room, and a lot of another stupid luxuries that he didn’t give a shit about. But there is a room he didn’t check already, and he opens the door. Big bed. A piano inside the room. More walls filled with books and paintings. Very elegant, cozy.
He notices then, a small light coming from under a door. He grabs his gun, and with no second thought, opens the door forcefully, making it slam on the wall. He points the gun at you, that is still inside the ridiculously big bathtub, full of bubbles. You close your book and stares at him, and then he stares at you, and for one second Jason truly believes he is in the wrong place, because there is no way a woman with that face could be a hired killer.
But then you smile. “Jason Todd. Came here to join me?”
A chill runs down his spine. How the fuck did you know about his identity? He tries not to demonstrate how shaken he is by your revelation.
“Get out of the tub. Hands up in the air where I can see.” He says, his voice cold. It sends a chill down your spine.
“That’s not a proper way to treat a lady, you know. I’d like some privacy.” You say, voice sweet like venom.
“Pity. Hands up.” He insists on the matter, gripping his gun tighter, his finger on the trigger. This woman is dangerous and he knows it. A single moment of inattention, she can end him like a snake.
You chuckle, and stands up, the bubbles and foam running down your exposed body. You step cautiously out of the tub, not really mind the fact that he could see your whole body in full display. Your mind is worried with a different thing: just how the hell you will get out of this situation.
You could kill him, yes. It would be harder than your usual target, but you both are inside of your home. He’s in your territory. Even if he’s the one holding the gun, you still have the upper hand; you just need to distract him enough to catch one of your daggers.
But the truth is, you don’t really wanna kill him. Yes, he’s been a pain in the ass the last six months. But he was a good man. You respected that, eve if you’re not good yourself.
"At least be a gentleman and handle me that towel." You say, pointing at the towel hanging close to where Jason stands. He thinks for a moment. Maybe it's a trick. But you are indeed naked, and he feels a little bad exposing a woman at an arrest while being completely naked.
So he turns around slightly to grab the towel, and that's all the time you need to burst running through the bathroom door. As soon as he realizes he curses loudly and goes after you, but you already caught a dagger that was in a counter.
He thinks about shooting you, that would make it all easier. But something inside his guts doesn't allow him to. So he keeps pointing at you, a dagger in your hand, and you're ready to strike.
The chill of the cold air makes shivers run down your naked body. you're still dripping wet, the bun now undone, your hair falling down till it's complete length.
Jason catches his breath. You were beautiful. He was working though, no time to get distracted by skin. Even if it is the most perfect thing he ever seen.
"Drop the weapon and get into your knees. Or I'll shoot." He says, coldly.
"I wouldn't shoot me if I were you. You'll create enemies I don't think you're interested in." You reply, and you're not bluffing.
You're crazy, he realizes. To burst towards him while he is holding a gun. He missed, yes, but he could have shot you accidentally is some vital place, and he doesn't want that either. You're nuts.
"On your knees. Now." He says, almost barking. Before he can say anything else, you strike forward. He shoots, but misses. In the meantime, you are able to draw a deep cut in his arm.
He hisses at the cut in his forearm, and you're about to deliver another one to his chest, but he grabs your wrist , shoving you against the wall. He is physically stronger than you, so you'll need to get out of the situation in another way.
"Be fucking quiet." He says, when you open your mouth to say something. You smirk, staring at him.
He can't help but feel attracted towards you, completely bare against that wall, his hand holding your wrists upon your hand. He looks at you and an urge to fuck you right there gets him.
Because he hate you, he really does. Even more now that you managed to play him for a fool. He hates you, and he hates that you're so hot, so tempting. He hates that he can't help but stare at your tits, or notice how small you look compared to him, and how tight you would be.
And he hates it even more because he knows he can't.
"You want me, don't you?" You say, noticing his silence. It's just a whisper. But you have a smile on your face. And then he knows, you want it too.
But you're still a damn assassin who needs a lesson. And he's glad to give it to you.
He grabs your hair, and with force shoves you into the ground, on your knees in front of him. You frown, looking up at his face. You try to stand up again, but he point the gun at you.
"Stay quiet." He says, his voice breathy. God, is he really going to do this? Yeah. Fuck it. He can see it in your eyes. You desire him too.
So with his other hand he starts to undo his belt, letting in fall on the floor. He opens his zipper, and without shame or regret he pulls his cock out, pumping slowly.
Your eyes widened. Okay. This wasn't what you were expecting, but it's way better than be arrested. So you go for it.
You open your lips, inviting him. He doesn't lose time, shoving his whole length down your throat, making you gag. He still points a gun to your head with one hand, the other moving your head, his balls hitting your chin every single time.
"Fuck- you should quit your job as an assassin, ya know? You're way better like this." He says, mockingly. You get irritated, and tries to push him away to do some snarky comment, but he pulls you into his hips again, making you close your eyes.
You relax your jaw and your throat, and lets him facefuck you. He grunts, you gag, and you don't know for how long the whole ordeal went, but suddenly he grabbed your hair again and pulled you up, his cock slipping out of your mouth with a pop.
"Turn around." He says, harshly.
"Fuck off-" you try to say, even when you feel your legs trembling at his hot, dominant tone.
He scoffs, the sound lightly different because of his mask, and with a pull on your arm makes you turn around. He grabs your ass and open it, kneeling behind you, observing your pussy.
"You're wet. Pathetic slut." He says, and stands up again. He doesn't waste time and shoves himself inside of you, making you moan softly. He was so big, and the stretch was so painfully delicious.
He starts to fuck you like you're a toy, not slowing down and not really giving a damn about your pleas. He grabs your throat, forcing your back against his chest, your breasts tightly pressed against the wall.
"Shut your mouth and take it like the good whore you are." He says in your ear, making irritation grow inside of you. You try to think about something clever to say back to him, anything really, but you can't.
All you can think about is how he hits all the sweet spots inside of you, making you squirm. He slaps your ass, grip tight in your throat.
"God- slow down-" You manage to say.
"Shh. I said for you to be quiet and take it." He says, slapping you again, harder this time.
He gets out of you, and throws you on the bed. You try to create some distance between you two, but he grabs your ankle and pulls you back into him. Not giving you time to think before he slaps your abused cunt.
You let out a little scream, trying to close your legs. No point in it. He forces them open, observing the wet mess that you are.
"Maybe I won't arrest you, after all. Maybe I should keep you to myself. As my personal slut. What do you think?" He whispers, and puts his dick back into you. You moan, unable to respond, too focused in getting fucked.
His hips slam against you, reaching a point so deep no one ever reached before.
"Jason- oh God-" You say, hands going to his shoulders, bringing him closer.
He chuckles, one hand going between your bodies to pinch your clit. You arch your back at the soft pain, moaning.
"You like that? You like being fucked like a whore?" He asks, giving you a little slap on the face. It's not hurtful, just a reminder of who is in charge.
And you find yourself nodding, too lost in the pleasure.
The pleasure is like a wave, with each thrust of his hips you find yourself moaning louder, almost shouting his name. He takes his mask off, and kisses you, his tongue invading your mouth and tasting your lips.
He moves positions again, putting you on all fours. It keeps going for a long time, your eyes rolling up your skull, one of his hands on your ass and the other one grabbing your hair, pulling your head backwards.
"Fuck- you're tight for a whore-" He says, chuckling.
"That's because I'm- oh- I'm not one!" You say, irritated.
"Oh, you don't like me calling you a whore? What about my little whore? Sounds better?"
You clench around him, because yes, it does sounds better. He notices and chuckles again, a little breathy, but still able to talk.
"That's what I thought."
After everything, he did actually arrest you. He gave you time to put your clothes on, the gun always pointed. But it doesn't matter. You'll be free in two days, and you both know that.
And Jason finds himself... excited about the thought of your freedom.
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the smut was a little shorter than what I planned, but I intend on doing more of this type of fics. with more smut. hehe.
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margotwhites · 1 month
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guys how da fuck i put an ask box on my tumblr bio like everyone has one and this shit doesn't appear for me tf
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margotwhites · 1 month
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He was such a happy kid. It saddens me deeply.
Awe look at him ❤❤❤ he just happy to be here.
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Detective Comics #571
Look at his Red.... Hat.
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margotwhites · 1 month
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writing part 3 for jason x singer reader and honestly u guys.... the angst my mind is pulling out LMAOO
should I go for it or make something more light? I'm not sure 😭
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margotwhites · 1 month
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Jason Todd x Singer reader (fem) Part 2
Author's note: First of all, thanks everyone for the amazing feedback of the first part! It made me a happier person.
summary: After the first repercussions of what you said in Kurt's interview, your agent decided it was time to do a show in Gotham. Nothing could go wrong... Right?
Here's part one: https://www.tumblr.com/margotwhites/742612810749591552/jason-todd-x-singer-reader-fem
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Jason doesn't know how he ended up in the line for your show. He was at Wayne's Manor, chilling, and Steph, Babs and Dick suddenly grabbed him, made him take a shower and put a nice outfit (that they choose), a perfume and get his hair done.
And now he is on the line for the VIP entrance of your show in Gotham. The interview you did happened just two weeks ago, and suddenly there was an announcement in your social media about a show in one of the Gotham's city biggest stadium.
He didn't like the idea. Everybody knows what happens in shows at Gotham City. There's always some lunatic ready to fuck up the whole thing, always people getting hurt. That's exactly why he didn't refuse going to the show: if any shit happens, he prefers to be there to be able to kick the ass of whatever idiot that causes the commotion.
He just didn't expected to end up in the VIP.
"How much did you pay for this?" Jason asks Dick, staring at the small concert VIP bracelet that was placed around his wrist.
"It doesn't matter." Dick says, dismissively. Babs and Steph share a look and both start to giggle. Jason arches an eyebrow, but doesn't insist on the matter. He sighs, putting his hands on the pockets of his dark jeans.
If he was being honest, he wasn't a huge fan. Yeah, some musics were good, and overall you had talent, but it was simply not his style of music.
The line finished and they entered the VIP room; where after to show they would have access to the backstage. And actually meet you. Jason is not dumb, he knows what his siblings are in for. They weren't exactly discreet. They want to set up Jason with you.
"You guys are aware she said she likes Red Hood, right? Not Jason Todd. She probably doesn't even know me."
"Of course she knows you. You're a Wayne. She certainly have seen your face in one of the Galas footage that are around the web." Babs said, tilting her head.
"This is stupid. I don't know what you people expect to happen." Jason sighs, rubbing his temple. He wasn't exactly going to complain though.
"Look! There's food!" Steph says, walking towards the huge table with a diversity of sweets and savory. Jason follows her, but instead he walks towards the bar. He orders an Old Fashioned. He needs a drink to get his head in the mindspace.
At least he's not in the middle of the crowd. The VIP is crowded, but it's a private space with couches and other fancy stuff. Dick must've paid a hell amount of money for them to be here. Or he had some contacts. He always does.
Jason sips his drink and sighs, observing the surroundings. Well dressed people. It looks almost like a Wayne Gala. Which pisses him off a little. He sits on one of the couches, besides Barbara, who is drinking a Cosmopolitan. Steph is still attacking the food table and Dick is talking with some guys. Probably the ones who gave him the tickets.
"Take that expression out of your face, Jason."
Babs said, a smirk on her face. Jason scoffs.
"I just don't understand what the heck we're doing here." Jason replies, sipping his drink again.
"To listen to music. To have fun. To go to the backstage later."
"I don't want to meet her, anyway. The hell are we going to talk about?" Jason says, untrusting his friends plans.
"Come on! It's gonna be fun. And it's not because she said she liked Red Hood or whatever. It's because I want to meet her. Not everything revolves around you, jaylad."
Steph says, a plate full of sweets on her hands. She sits on the other side of Barbara.
"Then there was no reason for you to drag me along." Jason says, a bit irritated.
"Yes there was. Shows in Gotham always end up bad. We should be here in case we're needed."
She says, whispering. But nobody was really paying attention to them, so she relaxes.
"So why ain't Tim here too? Or hell, even Bruce?" Jason asks, rolling his eyes.
"Tim is with Bernard and Bruce is taking care of a case he's not talking about it. You know how he is."
Yeah, he knows. Batman sometimes doesn't share the cases. Especially the ones he should share. The ones he needs help with. But Jason shoves that to the back of his mind, sipping the Old Fashioned again.
A song starts to play and everyone goes towards the balcony of the VIP area. Babs and Steph grab Jason's hands and drag him towards the parapet, so they can take a better view of you, appearing on the stage. Dick joins them two seconds later.
"Good night, Gotham!" You say in the microphone, your voice echoing. With a huge smile on your face, the wind blowing your hair. He had to admit, you were more than good looking. You were gorgeous.
People are dancing and singing along, the whole stadium thrilling in your energy. You sing and move around, touching people's hands and even letting some fans get the mic for some seconds to show their own talent.
Jason can feel the energy and the music, and hell, he can't deny it. You are good. He even finds himself beating his feet in the rhythm of the songs he knows, and murmuring the lyrics along while you sing.
And then, because this is Gotham, and because Gotham can't have a single moment of peace, some shit starts to happen in the stadium floor. He can't understand what's going on - it's far away from the VIP area, but there is a strange moviment of people in the middle of the lower crowd.
"Hey- something is happening." He says, grabbing Dick's arm and pointing at a group of guys that is... fuck. Holding guns? He can't see it properly, it's too far away.
Dick observes what Jason is pointing.
"Our costumes are in the car." He says, and soon they are all moving. Jason places his drink on the parapet while Dick tells Babs and Steph what is going on. People start to scream in the lower crowd, opening space for the armed man. There are five in total. No- five in one side of the stage, other five close to the exit.
They run towards the exit of the VIP area, rushing down the stairs. A hell of an ordeal of everyone changing into their costumes inside the fucking car, losing time when someone could be getting hurt goes on, and five minutes later they are invading the entrance of the stadium dance floor.
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You stopped singing as soon as you hear the screams. Something is not wrong and you should've known this would happen, because this is fucking Gotham.
Your security guards invaded the stage, escorting you out of there against your will. You don't understand what's going on, you just heard a gun noise and someone screaming, and then more loud noises and your ears start to do a high pitched sound, the world becoming a blurr in that moment. You go to the backstage, but then there are people armed there too.
A guy from the lighting team is on the floor, blood sprawling under him. Your security team raised their guns at the goons - or whatever the hell those people are - while the goons raise their guns and points each single one of them at you.
You try to stay calm. In fact, you are feeling strangely calm. There are five man pointing guns at your face, and the only strange, unsettling thought that crosses your mind is that you forgot your car keys on the bathroom counter this morning.
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Dick punches one of the goons on the nose while Jason shoot's at another's leg. People start to scream even more now, Babs trying to control the crowd so nobody falls and gets trampled while everyone rushes towards the exit. Steph is already close to the stage, taking care of the five other goons.
Jason knows she can handle five idiots on her own, but even so, he runs forward, people opening space for him, and he's almost there when he sees a woman falling on the ground and almost getting crushed by other people's feet.
He helps her stand up and hears a small 'thank you' before she starts to run again. He has no time to lose. Not that armed men is a big of a challange for him and the rest of them, but people were shot. And everything that happens in a crowded space causes more casualties.
He reaches Steph and soon enough all the goons are down, people still rushing towards the exit, where now Dick and Babs take care of those who are wounded.
"I think we took them all down." Steph says, stepping closer to Jason.
But then Jason looks at the empty stage in front of him.
"Let's check the backstage." He says. Steph nods.
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They started shooting at some point. You threw yourself at the ground, because you didn't know what else to do, and you felt a hand around your wrist, pulling up. You feel something cold in your back, and five masked man staring at you.
Your bodyguards are wounded or dead, and you're alone.
"Walk." The man behind you say, the gun pressed on your lower back. You take a deep breath and starts to walk, following them. You get out of the backstage through the back door, walking on the empty parking lot at the other side of the stadium, a simple white van waiting for you.
It was one of those kidnapping movies white van. That's what went through your head. You almost laughed at the thought. You would have if it wasn't so damn terrifying.
You started to think about all the possibilities of what could happen to you once you enter that van. What happens to the people in the movies? Torture? Rape? Death? Canibalism? Yeah, you saw something like that in the TV when you were younger.
Or maybe they just want your money. That, at this moment, is the best option. They'll ask for money and once they receive they're going to let you go. That's probably what's going on.
You try to calm down. The van seems so far away from you, the time is going so slowly, and so fast, because now you are being tied and blindfolded, thrown behind the van, and they are driving you somewhere.
You try to create the map of Gotham in your head: trying to perceive by the movements of the van where they could be leading you. That would be the smart thing to do, right? Maybe. But the truth is that you can't figure it out. You don't know Gotham. You have no idea where you are being taken.
You have no idea how many of your fans, the people who paid to see you, the people who adore you and who you adore back, were shot. If any of them died in your show.
It makes you try to stand up behind the van, desperate. That odd calmness you were feeling till now suddenly disappeared, and you started to do muffled sounds, trying to throw yourself against the van's back doors so maybe they would burst open and you'd be able to get out of here.
The van is at high velocity and maybe you'd break some bones, but that didn't matter. You just needed to get out of there.
Someone grabs you by the hair.
"Be quiet, slut!" A sharp slap on the left side of your face. It makes you flinch.
You were absolutely fucked.
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Jason recognizes the man on the floor as your security team right away.
And you're nowhere.
"They took her." Stephanie says, through the comms for Dick and Babs. Jason observes the scene, remembering everything Bruce ever thought him.
"They're not hiding. They took her somewhere." He says, walking towards the backstage exit, towards the completely empty parking lot.
"At this point, they can't be more far than 50 kilometers." Babs say through the comms.
Jason curses under his breath at the reality that his motorcycle wasn't here. He looks at Steph, who also seems quite lost in what to do.
"There are any security cameras on the stadium or the parking lot?" She asks.
"Probably. If I was at home, I could figure it out." Babs answer. She's the Oracle, of course she could figure it out. She always does.
"Go home, then." Jason says, clenching his fists. They were losing time, damn it.
Jason just wants to get you back. He doesn't even know you, you don't even know him. But he knows you support him as Red Hood, and that's not something a lot of people do. He can't help but care for you.
He'll get you back. As Red Hood, as Jason Todd, it doesn't matter. This man is getting you back.
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Author's note part 2: Oof! I was expecting this fic to be more light than this, but my mind took a different turn. I hope you guys enjoyed!
Tags: @duduvea @cynical-ghost
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margotwhites · 1 month
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Why the hell didn't I find you sooner?!
You are just amazing!!!
🥰🥰🥰🥰 thanks bae
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margotwhites · 1 month
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just imagining the singer reader as a combination of taylor swift + Lana del rey + Melanie Martinez
Yess! Add Ethel Cain (How? her music is completely different LMAO) to the bonus and that's exactly how I perceive singer reader.
Next chapter is going to be CRAZY
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margotwhites · 1 month
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Jason Todd x Singer reader (fem)
Author's note: I received such a surprisingly positive reply from this! I haven't posted in months, so this caught me off guard completely. (Yes 15 notes is good for me lmao 🥹) In this version, Jason knows who reader are since the beginning. I thought it'd be more fun.
So, basically this a longer version of the first part + a second part. I intend to write this in chapters. Enjoy and please give me your thoughts ❤️
Part two:
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Jason Todd knew one thing or two about twitter. Or X, whatever. The thing is: he's at least three times a month in the trending topics. Not him exactly, but Red Hood. Red Hood is always there.
It goes from people hating on him, to young girls (psycho's in his opinion) calling him babygirl or daddy. He doesn't understands and he doesn't want to. He's not much one from social media, so when he is on the trending topics, normally someone from the family teases him about it.
This time is no different. Dick Grayson and Tim Drake are laughing way too hard. Looking from Tim's phone directly towards Jason. He sighs, closing the book he is reading. Currently they are all comfortably sitting on the library, eating Alfred's cookies and tea.
"What is it?" Jason asks, already regretting the question.
"Open twitter." Tim says, a huge smile on his face. Jason feels a chill down his spine because he knows it's going to be bad. Not that he cares. He doesn't give a shit about public's opinion.
But sometimes the comments about him, the mean comments wishing him to die... Those get to him. So he's prepared for that. For people hating, or for his fangirls fighting deciding who'd be his next imaginary girlfriend.
But he never expected to be shipped with someone else. He knows who you are. Everybody knows who you are. A talented young singer, that ascended till the top in less than three years. Doing some works on modeling from time to time for McQueen or Vogue or Versace, because you're that beautiful.
He wouldn't call himself a fan, but he does think you are musically talented. Anyway, everyone is shipping him with you.
And he doesn't know why.
"Why am I being shipped with her?" He asks, out loud. Before Dick or Tim can answer, Steph bursts into the library's door laughing.
"Jason-"
"I know."
She laughs again. He starts to scroll down the comments, until he finds a video of a live interview you did on Kurt's show, that prick. The journalist is famous for doing weird questions.
"So, everybody knows you have a bit of thing for vigilantism. How did that start?" Kurt asks, crossing his arms and giving the public a charming smile.
"Oh, it started with Batman, of course. I was a little kid when I heard the stories about the man that haunted the nights in Gotham. I am a L.A girl, but either way I absolutely felt enchanted. It's just so cool that is there someone out there that takes justice in their own hands."
Yeah, right. She's a fan of the Batass. Jason scoffs while watching the video, but continues anyway.
"And who is your favorite vigilante?" Kurt asked, leaning closer to her. He was a charming man, young and successful, just like her.
"Oh, Red Hood, definitely." She says that without a hint of sarcasm in her voice. Just a plain, simple answer.
"Red Hood? Isn't he a bit... extreme?" Kurt said, tilting his head.
"I think he is doing good in his own ways, and that is so freaking cool, you know? And I think his motorcycle is super... uh, how can I say? Hot." She says, and gives the public a little giggle. She continues:
"Which doesn't mean I agree with everything he does. But I find his persona interesting and refreshing. He's different from the rest, different approaches and all. It makes me curious about who is the man behind the mask."
"If you could say anything to him, what would you say?" Kurt asks, smiling.
"Oh! I'd probably ask him to take me on a ride with his bike. And to get a girlfriend. I think he needs a feminine touch in his life." She answers, with an amused grin.
The video ends and Jason doesn't really know what to think. You just said he needed a girlfriend. A feminine touch.
The truth is, he can't really disagree. When was the last time he felt a woman's body close to his? More time than he wants to admit. Months. Maybe more than a year. In his defense, it's not that he doesn't have the game. He just don't have the energy to play it.
Steph laughs takes him out of his wandering thoughts. He looks up at his siblings, an irritated expression in his face.
"Read the tweets, the tweets are the best part!" She says, chuckling again. Jason goes straight to the shipping hashtag. People saying they want to be Jason, people saying they want to be you, people saying they want to be the bed where you both - forget it.
He sighs and throws his cellphone on the couch, sitting back and beginning to read his book.
"That's it? That's your reaction?" Dick asks, tilting his head like a curious dog.
"It's just a bunch of tweets. People will forget eventually. Nothing I should worry about." Jason replies, not taking his eyes off The Catcher in the Rye.
Little did he know.
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Okay. Maybe you shouldn't have said that. Maybe you were dumb and reckless. And now your agent and her team are almost killing you.
It's not your fault. You were always told to be honest, because your fun and outgoing (at least on stage) personality were one of your best traits.
"Are you crazy! This could have led to terrible repercussions. What if everyone focused on the fact that you support a murderer?!" Claya, your agent says, almost shouting.
"Well, they didn't. Now they are just shipping him with me." You say, trying to defend yourself. The truth is, behind the cameras and the stage and all the "popstar" persona you have to pull out, you are an introvert. You have two lifes.
"Yeah, and you should be grateful for it. This can even be a good sign. It seems people are interested in your love life. We can use that for our advantage." Claya says.
You adore her, really. And it's her job to figure it out how to make your career ascend. And she does it very well. But sometimes you just wish it wouldn't be about money or status. It would be just about how to do good music.
Anyway, you don't want to be ungrateful. You're living your childhood dream. So you take those thoughts out of your mind.
"Well, what do you have in mind?" You ask, blinking in confusion.
"We're going to Gotham. You're going to do a show there." Claya says, confidently and typing on her computer.
"Are you out of your mind? Shows in Gotham always go wrong. The Chase Atlantic show from last month was attacked by Pyg!" You say, trying to contain your agent's wicked ideas.
"Honey, don't worry. Maybe Red Hood appears in to save the whole ordeal. It couldn't be better." Claya says, standing up and closing her computer.
Claya and the team leave you alone to think. It's not like you have a lot of choice in the matter, anyway. If she says you're doing the show, you gotta do it.
But it's just a show, right? Nothing to worry about.
Little did you know.
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