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albatmobile · 1 year

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The Art of Rehabilitating Snowbirds Chapter 5

𓅪 After not hearing from Roy or Jason for five years, you suddenly find yourself taking in extra income as a babysitter for Roy and Jason's child.

𓅪 Rated: M | TW: attempted assault | 9k includes: Damian helping u apply sunscreen before the angst, dinner w babs and Steph where they give u the inside info on past batboy feelings for u, Red Hood saves u from thugs, u wear Roy’s clothes

fem!Reader x Jason Todd x Roy Harper [masterlist]

Chapter Five: Lost in Translation | ao3 - wattpad

Damian ends up whisking you and Jon away on a yachting adventure, insisting you need to get out more. At first, you're offended, that is until you realize holding your tongue means going out of state on a yacht. Suddenly all previous offense dissipates.

Damian reminds you for the second time that, even though it's out of state, it's only a fifteen-minute drive. Whatever. It just sounds fancier.

You’re only holding your tongue just this one time though, so Damian better not get used to it.

This is how you end up in Happy Harbor in the middle of the week, lounging on the top deck in the hot tub with Damian. Jon disappeared somewhere inside to get you guys drinks and check out the food, but he comes back soon after.

“Do you need sunblock?” You ask Damian, noticing his shoulders turning pink under the direct glare of the sun's 80-degree rays. He's about to open his mouth, probably to tell you to fuck off, but you know he'll thank you later, “You need sunblock. Come here.”

“No,” He spits out your name, dodging whichever way you move in the water all while avoiding your sunscreen-covered palms. “I don’t even burn,” He insists quickly when you get particularly close.

“Everyone burns, dumbass,” You leap forward to tackle him into submission, though you know he must’ve partially let you. With Damian subdued, you waste no time in spreading the cream across his burning, tanned shoulders.

He eventually relaxes into your touch, even going as far as hopping up onto the ledge to give you better access to the rest of his upper body. Though, this new position now means you're eye level with his crotch. He doesn’t bother with fussing; he just stays still enough for you to rub it along the ripples of his muscular chest and back, making you wish you’d never offered.

This ended up being a lot more than you bargained for.

It’s only as you reach the waistband of his trunks that he places a dark hand over yours. “This is where I draw the line,” He smirks and swiftly hops out of the hot tub to avoid you trying, keyword trying, to put sunscreen on his face. “I think you’ll need it more than I do.”

You look down to see that you do indeed appear rosier than usual, though you’re not entirely sure it’s just from the sun.

“Okay, so put some on me then,” You shrug nonchalantly. At least, you hope it looked nonchalant… You aren’t trying to let him know just how riled up you were after, essentially, feeling him up.

“Ew, gross,” Damian wrinkles his nose in disgust. “I don’t want to catch anything you’ve got.”

Your jaw drops, “But I just did it for you!”

“That’s because you wanted to.” He looks way too proud of himself. Way too proud.

From where you stand, you can tell he’s definitely flexing his abs right now on purpose.

You roll your eyes at his arrogant display and push the bottle of sunscreen into his hands. You hop out of the tub and make your way over to the lounge chairs together, but he just pushes it right back at you.

“Just put this shit on my back, dude,” You huff in annoyance. “You may not care about burning out here, but I do.”

Instead of helping (because when has Damian ever been consideed helpful?), he mocks you in a high-pitched voice, “Dude.”

Seriously?

Okay, well, two can play this game, Wayne.

“Aw, cute! That’s exactly how you sounded when I first met you,” You imitate freshman Damian saying your name but highly exaggerate the pitch just to piss him off.

“Did not.”

It worked.

“Did too.”

He aggressively snatches the bottle from your hand. “You know, for someone who doesn’t want to burn, it sure sounds like you want to burn,” He dangles the sunscreen like he’s going to drop it on top of your head, but you don’t give him the reaction he wants, so he eventually huffs and pops open the cap.

You grin, dangling your victory obxnosiously in his face as you roll over onto your stomach to give him better access to your back. There's really no reason to, considering the string bikini you're wearing grants him any access he'll need seeing as it doesn’t cover a whole lot of you in the first place.

“Damn, you’re so aggressive with it.” You whine as he digs in. Yes, digs into your skin to apply the cream. He seems to think that the sunscreen needs to be applied with a certain psi to be effective with the way his hands continue to push into your skin. “Please never become a masseuse.” You joke, but he significantly lightens his touch as he makes his way down to your lower back. You quietly exhale in relief.

“I hire masseuses. Why would I become one?” His voice sounds slightly restrained.

“To give me free massages?” You state the obvious with a smirk thrown over your shoulder at him, not that he's looking at your face, though you note a twinge of amusement.

“Seems like that's already a benefit of yours,” His fingertips lightly trail down to where your back meets the top string of your bottoms and stops abruptly. “I’m not touching your ass. Nice try, though.”

You laugh, grabbing the bottle from his hands to lather it on your backside while he watches. “Still looking at it, though.” You wink at him, reveling in how he bristles as he walks over to claim the lounge chair across from your own.

“Hard not to when it’s that fat,” He curls his face into disgust as he puts on his sunglasses. “Might even be bigger than Nightwing’s.”

“Enough with the compliments, Damian. You’re making me blush,” You tease him, kicking your legs up behind you like a girl writing in her diary. “Makin’ a girl feel all special ’n shit.” You flip over with a whine. “Also, you've never talked comics with me before. What’s up with that?”

“They’re for lame losers like you. Besides, I’ve never picked one up, but I do watch the news.” He reaches over and clicks a button on the side table. Almost immediately, two stewardesses bring out towels along with some sort of infused water for Damian and quickly leave without a word. You make a weird face. “What?”

“You didn’t tell me it was chartered.”

“What do I look like? Someone with an unchartered yacht. Please.” He rolls his eyes from the lounge chair across from yours and tilts his Bottega Veneta sunglasses further up on his face. “Why do you keep looking constipated like that?”

“Nothing. Sometimes I forget you’re super fucking rich.”

Not even in your wildest imagination could you have pictured yourself on a yacht with people to cater to your every, frivolous whim. If anything, the most you’d hoped for was a full fridge and a normal family, but Damian’s wild experiences will suffice for now.

It just seems too unrealistic for someone like you to be able to enjoy crazy indulgences like this, especially when these same experiences don’t seem to affect Damian in the slightest.

“I don’t think I ever ended up hearing about how your meeting with Roy and Jason went,” Jon says, walking towards you and Damian with a tray of fresh drinks from the inside bar. Jon and you both felt very weird about the whole service thing, so you understand why he’d just want to serve himself. “Damian mentioned that you seemed a bit nervous.”

You laugh. That's a complete understatement.

“It went alright. Kid’s cute,” Damian tch’s at that. “What? She is! And Roy, well, he’s missing a hand since the last time I saw him, so there’s that.”

You wonder if Damian will correct you. You wonder if he'll tell you that the prosthetic was also further up his arm, but he doesn’t and you're left to wonder just how much of his arm is actually gone.

“I told you he’s changed,” Damian’s face reads: ‘I told you so' clear as day.

“Yeah, no fucking kidding. I still don’t understand why you couldn’t’ve given me a heads up buuut,” You sit up straighter to visually demonstrate to them how his prosthetic hand looked. “It was all black and like, had this like shooty thing right here,” You point to the top of your hand. “Or, well, it kinda looked like it, but I doubt that. Right?” Jon nods as if he has any idea what you're talking about. You appreciate his enthusiasm, nonetheless. “But he seemed pretty much the same other than that. Still hot as ever, though, obviously.” You waggle your eyebrows at Jon, mainly because Damian seems content ignoring the two of you ever since the topic had been broached.

“Whatever,” Damian sips petulantly at his drink. It isn’t until Jon asks to see a picture that Damian sighs in annoyance. “Don’t let her pull into her smut, Jon. I’m more attractive than both of them combined, easily. Right?” He imitates your tone from earlier.

You and Jon gigle at the jealousy in his tone as you show him pictures of Jason, Roy and you from high school.

“You’ve always been really pretty.” He points at you in a picture taken while the three of you had been arguing at the library. “But, yeah, I’d be hot and bothered too,” He says, pretending to fan himself at the sight of Roy and Jason. “Jeesh!”

“Shut up,” Damian slams his drink down on the side table next to him, removing his sunglasses with sharp malice. “Enough about those two dimwits already.”

It’s silent after that.

The waves lapping up the sides of the ship and the seagulls chatter serve as reminders of the resulting awkwardness now in place of the lively conversations which had previously masked them.

“It’s not that serious-” You attempt to give him an out and get the jovial atmosphere back but it seems he doesn’t care. “Damian, are you being for real?” His face leaves no room for debate. “Okay, fine. We’ll stop,” You try calming him down before he can really go off, but it seems it’s already too late.

From the slight twitch of his eye and the telltale sign of his neck vein popping out, you have a very upset Damian Wayne on your hands. Well, you turn to Jon in alarm, the two of you have a very upset Damian Wayne on your hands.

You think he’ll remain quiet, content to glare at you for the rest of however long his pissy-fit lasts, but no. The combination of the hot sun coupled with too many drinks leaves Damian’s usual short temper even shorter.

“We get it,” Damian sits up, menacingly facing you from across the short distance of the deck as if you hadn’t even spoken. “You’re a desperate wannabe who clings onto unavailable people. Truly pathetic and completely high school, if you ask me.”

You don’t even know what to say.

Where was all of this coming from?

Jon seems to, for lack of better words, be in the same boat.

“Woah, Damian,” Jon searches Damian’s purposefully blank face as defends you from the uncalled-for outburst. “She’s your friend. Why are you acting like this?”

You’re still stuptefied by his abrupt hostility. You try to retrace your steps, seeing where the conversation had gone awry, but came up blank. All you’d talked about was Roy and Jason for not even a second… Wait.

Was he really telling you to shut up over talking about them?

You think back to high school, when he never seemed to upset when you talked about them aside from a few eye-rolls and such, but now it’s like a completely taboo topic for Damian.

“She used to be my best friend.” It comes out cold and uninterested, as if he’s completely over the conversation and you.

“Used to?” You finally spoke with a soft voice, barely audible above the overlapping waves against the boat.

You’d done nothing but be at his side endlessly. You thought you understood him when no one else had, just as he’d done for you. So, why was he saying this?

Ever since Jason and Roy came back into the picture, it was like you could see flashes of the old Damian. The one who was always fighting for your attention over his brothers. It had always been comical to you, considering Damian had always had your undivided attention whether he realized it or not.

“Like you haven’t noticed,” Damian motions to Jon, who doesn’t seem to know what to do with himself but, then again, neither do you. You’ve never been on the wrong side of Damian’s ire like you are right now.

“Damian, what did I do?” You can’t help the genuine hurt and confusion that drips from your every word, pleading with him to stop, “I’ve only been talking to them for a few days, so how could you already be replacing me?”

“Maybe I knew they’d be coming back and prepared myself,” He responds cryptically. If you weren’t already so upset, you'd probably roll your eyes at the blatant lie.

You look at Jon, but he still seems just as baffled, “He’s been like this ever since the day after we painted.”

It doesn’t take long to connect that what you thought was going on, was going on.

The day after the penthouse party is when you’d gone over to dump about your Jason and Roy problems. Now, today he’s blowing up after you showed Jon an old picture.

It's clear as day to everyone but Damian, it seems.

Why he's jealous of your complicated relationship with them, you have no idea.

“You’re so jealous, Damian. It’s really cute.” You attempt to cover up your hurt with nonchalance, giving him another chance to calm down.

He doesn’t take it.

“Jealous? Me? Please,” Damian scoffs and tilts his head in just a way that causes his sunglasses to reflect a ray of the sun directly into your eye. This leaves you to dodge out of its way by lying back down. “Let’s not forget that you’re on my yacht,” He curses your last name. “Would you like a one-way ticket off of it?”

“Would I be able to stay dry?” You ask tonelessly as you adjust your navy bikini top. You really hope whatever steam Damian’s letting off is almost out because you're running out of patience.

It doesn’t help you're all quite literally trapped in the middle of the ocean on a boat together, either.

“What do you think?” He snarls.

“Whatever, man,” You snort. If he gets a free pass at being a dick, “Whatever. Jon,” He looks like he’d rather not be dragged back into one of your tiffs. “How do you put up with him?” You place a delicate hand over your bikini-clad chest. “How did I ever put up with him?”

He glares at you as if daring you to make him explain exactly why he even confronted you in the first place: you were a loser. Though you remind yourself, to be fair, Damian was somewhat of a social outcast himself, so he's one to talk.

“Maybe those rumors they used to spread about you were true,” He falsely muses to get a rise out of you.

It works.

It’s simple but effective.

No one knows how to push your buttons quite like Damian does and today is a prime example of this. You shoot up from your seat with fury burning in your eyes, coming to an abrupt halt at the end of his chair, wrought with rage.

“You know they weren’t."

How dare he insinuate he wasn’t your first, well… everything.

You continue to stand over him, waiting on him to say anything, but he sits in silence with a small smile you so badly want to knock off his face.

Finally, he yawns and you anxiously await whatever dumb shit he’s about to spew, “Who really knows?”

"I've never even so much as had a boyfriend, Dami,” You respond through gritted teeth, reveling in how his face finally falls.

You definitely caught him off guard, but you’re not entirely sure.

He covers it up as soon as you take notice, stirring the pot to cover up the brief break in his rock-solid facade, "Then you really are a whore."

It’s as if you blackout because the next thing you know, you’re holding an empty glass.

You come to just in time to see Damian, in a now soaked swimsuit, lunging at you with a devilish glint in his dark eyes as Jon desperately smooshes himself in between the two of you as best he can in an attempt to separate you both, but to no avail.

“DAMIAN, GET OFF OF HER!” He shouts, drawing the attention of the deck crew, who move in to help Jon intervene.

You don’t bother touching him; it’d be too dumb of a move. He’d obviously know any moves you’d use, seeing as he was the one who’d taught you the self-defense moves you know, albeit foggily. Supposedly, he taught you everything he knows but, with his ever-present ninja-like reflexes, you’re pretty sure he’s held some moves back from you. You don’t want to give him a reason to hurt you any further in a way he can’t come back from, so you turn your head to the side, exposing your neck to signal to him you're done dealing with his shit. Well, your shit because you’d technically started it. Ugh.

He recognizes your white flag easily and swiftly gets up before anyone else can intervene, wiping meticulously at his swim trunks. “I think it’d be best if you left,” He says your first name coldly, but you don’t stick around to hear much else.

If Jon could, you think the glare he’s currently sending Damian would disintegrate him on impact. He mutters to himself, sounding disappointed as he helps you gather up your things and onto the tender. Damian's long gone, having retired to one of the inside cabins soon after the ordeal ended.

“I don’t know what came over him,” He confides to you, holding your hand steady as you step down into the tiny boat that's set to take you back to shore.

“Pretty sure it was a Mai Tai.” He gives you an admonishing glance in response that makes you wince, “Yeah.. Not my best moment.” It's as close as you’ll get to an apology after all the provoking Damian had done.

“You both need some time apart, I think.” He looks extremely uncomfortable in the position he’s found himself in as mediator.

This whole situation’s fucking pathetic.

“Like a fucking break up or something. Come on, Jon. You see how ridiculous he’s being!” You throw your arms up dramatically, causing the poor deckhand near the wheel to duck out of the way.

“I know. You’ll just have to let him figure it out.”

You sigh.

You’ve never fought with Damian like this over all the years and it's definitely left you shaken.

You look down at the floor of the tender. “Tell him I’m sorry about the drink, I guess.”

Jon nods, smiling lightly, “I was going to tell him that anyway,” He pats you on the back as he and retreats from the loading deck. “Take care of yourself,” He says your name gently as he makes his way back to the main decks, undoubtedly to look for your sulking friend.

You’re chartered back to land. As soon as your feet hit the dock, you make a desperate call.

•••

“Thanks again for picking me up on such short notice,” You shimmy into the passenger seat, smiling at Stephanie behind the wheel as you buckle in.

She shoots you a grin with thinly veiled worried leaking from it, “Of course! Sorry, I had to bring company,” She winks at the redhead in the back through the rearview mirror.

“Never apologize for bringing Babs.” You look back to Barbara in the back seat with a tiny smile. It's been a while since you’ve seen her anyway, so it's as good a chance as any to catch up with the redhead. You’re, admittedly, still getting used to seeing her with a wheelchair in tow.

“Yeah, Steph!” Barbara punches the back of Stephanie's seat playfully.

“Sorry, sorry!” She giggles.

“What were you guys up to?”

“Running errands.” They simultaneously glance over your attire and think back to your pissed-off, slightly frantic voicemail you’d left Stephanie half an hour earlier. Surely there has to be some reason for the call and your lack of clothes. “What were you up to?”

“Damian had a yacht thing.”

They glance at each other in the rearview again, sensing something's gone down.

“Sounds fancy,” Babs says.

“Mmm.”

Another shared look.

“Want to grab something to eat?” Babs changes the subject easily.

“But I’m practically naked,” You gesture down to your skimpy bikini and crocheted cover-up.

“Oh, trust me, babe. We both noticed,” Stephanie obnoxiously wiggles her eyebrows at your exposed body. “God, you make me wish I was gay sometimes.”

Barbara snorts, “What’s stopping you?”

“That handsome GPD officer I was telling you about.” She sighs dreamily. “I keep running into him and… I don’t know, I just get this feeling about him.”

“What’s his name?” You ask, quirking a brow when Barbara giggles.

“She doesn’t know.”

“Oh, come on, Steph.” You now join in on Babs giggles. “Does he at least know yours?”

She snorts, “They always do.” The three of you cackle until Stephanie pulls up to an old Mexican restaurant. It's right on the outskirts of Gotham and super close to Jason and Roy’s apartment. “I’m craving Mexican and I’m driving so… Ta da!” She gives you both jazz hands as soon as the car’s in park.

“Works for me,” You shrug. “But that still doesn’t solve this,” You gesture downward where your tits are barely concealed by the tiny triangles and your ass isn't much better off.

“I have a pair of stretchy shorts in the back that should fit!” She gets out to grab it while you get out to set up Barbara’s wheelchair. You help lift her into it and nearly drop her when you feel the tie on the left side of your bikini bottom come undone.

“Damn, Barbara,” She moves to re-tie it for you with a laugh. “If you wanted me naked, all you had to do was ask.”

She smacks at your hip to signal she’s done trying. “Time and date.”

You throw your head back and lose it.

“Careful Damian doesn’t hear us." Stephanie comes back around the car to where you and Babs are and hands you the black fabric. "He’s a real possessive one.”

You snort. “Yeah, figured that out today.”

“Just today?” They both look at you in disbelief.

“What?!” You put on the shorts Stephanie gave you and tie the crochet cover-up into a wonky tube top over your bikini before heading in with your friends in tow.

Once inside, you order and they immediately begin to dish on your friend.

“So, you’re telling us that you really didn’t know Damian liked you?” They still carry the same incredulous looks they’d worn in the parking lot. “He’s like the weirdest little demon child to ever be spawned and you actually got along with him for literal years. It’d take a fucking miracle for that to happen if he hadn’t somewhat liked you.”

You think back to the night of the Joker incident and how he’d comforted you in a way no one had before. Your stomach knots at the intimate memory of a man whom you don’t even recognize after today.

“Now you’re gonna tell me you didn’t know Tim liked you,” Barbara jokes lightly before clearing her throat awkwardly.

She’d been much older than you and Steph, so she hadn’t become as close with either of you as she is now until around senior year. This also means, however, that everything before senior year she’s not as familiar with, hence her not knowing the turmoil you and Stephanie went through when you’d first met. Was it true that all of that initial friction had been inadvertently caused by Tim?

You can see the hesitancy in Stephanie’s smile, but she eventually nods in agreement. “When Tim and I were dating, I was soo jealous of you.”

No way.

“I was 15!” You exclaim in shock.

Tim liked you?!

Of course, you’d looked at Tim that way. He was hot and didn’t think your obsession with heroes was cringy. Regardless, you’d always just assumed he saw you as his younger brother’s nerdy friend. Nothing more. Part of you still doubts he'd ever even looked at you that way, regardless of what Steph and Babs said.

As for Damian? Well, you knew Damian had liked you at some point with all the, uh, things you’d done, but he definitely didn’t now… right?

She shrugs. “You’re hot as fuck and you’ve always had big tits and a fat ass. How could I not be?”

“I’m starting to think maybe you liked me too,” You tease her, causing her to laugh easily.

“Oh, I for sure did. I just couldn’t recognize it over all the envy,” She shoots you a smirk.

Your food’s just arrived when Barbara looks down at the ringing phone in her hand. She shoots Stephanie with a look she easily reads and quickly gets up in response. “I’m glad we got to catch up, but there’s been a bit of an emergency. Do you have a ride?”

“Sorry to bail like this, but we really have to hurry,” Barbara sets down cash and begins wheeling to the exit, but Stephanie lingers to hear your answer to her question.

“Of course.” You lie easily. They’d driven all the way to the state over to save you from Damian’s “Can I at least keep the shorts?”

“All yours, babe!” She gives you a thumbs up and races to meet Barbara by the entrance. “Don’t even bother washing them before you return ‘em!”

You snort at her frat-like humor as they wave a final time and load back into the car.

You would’ve been heading to Jason and Roy’s in an hour anyway, but you shouldn't be showing up like this. You stare down at your barely covered chest, to your ass that's hanging out of Stephanies workout shorts and know it's a dumb idea to walk through the rough side of town like this. You inwardly groan, realizing it’s not like you have a choice in the matter with the way Damian had dropped you. You aren’t upset with Stephanie and Barbara needing to leave like they had when they’d just dropped everything to pick you up, but you can’t help but feel an overall feeling of sinking abandonment.

You sigh and have the waiter bring you boxes so, at the very least, you won’t have to worry about food for you and Lian. You pump yourself up as you begin your trek along the three blocks it takes to get to Jason and Roy’s place, but not before at least two cars pull over to ask how much you cost.

You don’t bother to slow down for either car. You try to maintain a steady pace, but the further away from the restaurant and the busy street it lay on, the more uneasiness you feel.

When the Wayne boys had trained you all those years ago, they always reminded you to keep your eyes and ears open in moments like these. They said there's probably a logical reason for you to get an uneasy gut feeling, but nothing seems particularly out of the ordinary. You wave off your worry and continue across the street.

Two more blocks.

You’re startled in the middle of the crosswalk by the loud, crackling sound of a motorcycle revving somewhere off in the near distance, but quickly pull it together like you hadn’t. You finish crossing the street, hoping you haven't drawn the wrong attention. You know you shouldn’t be jumping at dumb shit like that, especially when the only people you've seen on the streets have all been large groups of men. You think back to the last woman you’d passed, which had been an old lady right outside the corner bodega next to the restaurant two blocks back.

You take a deep breath and hold the food further in front of your cleavage to retain some semblance of modesty, but who are you kidding? It's bad. You look like you've drunkenly dressed yourself for a shift at the strip club and the fewer people that notice, the better.

You can see the corner building to Jason and Roy’s block and break into a light jog. You think you’re home free when you’re suddenly dragged into a dark ally.

You make to scream, but a grimy, clammy hand hastens itself over your mouth. You don’t give them a chance to get any further as your training kicks in. You drop down out of the hold. The man gasps in confusion, but you don’t give him any more time to react before you pop back up, turning to kick him directly in the balls with a satisfying smush.

“This one's a fighter, guys.” You’re panting slightly as you watch two more figures approaching from the corners of your vision. Regardless of how scared you are right now, you can't help but smirk at his deduction. "No way, freak's fuckin' into it."

His fear is all the encouragement you need to give the doubled-over man a psychotic grin he can’t even see from his hurt position. His friends, however, can and make small noises of unease.

“Oh," Your eyes go wild. "You have no idea.”

You set down the to-go bag gently and shake out your wrists just as the second goon begins a barrage of slow punches. You easily dodge them and parry them with quick, ferocious bursts of fists.

“Agh!” He exclaims as you drive a hearty punch into his fleshy stomach, sending him backward into the metal casing of a dumpster that lies further down the ally.

He’s still groaning on the ground, propped up by the dumpster, when the two other men gather their wits and team up to attack you simultaneously from both sides.

You try to remain calm as you prepare yourself for their inevitable attack.

You wait until they get right on you before lifting off the ground into a split kick that nails both men in the face. The momentum sends each man crashing into the brick ally wall on their respective sides.

The dude on the ground shuffles to get to his feet, quivering, nearly tripping over his buddies to get away from you in his haste.

“That’s right! Tell your creepy fucking friends,” You yell after his retreating form. You wait until he's out of sight before spinning into a proud little jump. “Oof!” Upon landing, you run into something extremely hard and extremely smelly.

You stumble backward, sneezing at the offending scent. When you look up, you startle, quickly distancing yourself from the man in the motorcycle helmet, who smells vaguely of gunpowder.

You squint your eyes up at him, almost immediately recognizing his getup from the news.

His name isn’t coming to you now, but you know what the costume stands for: Joker. You sure as fuck aren’t sticking around to find out if this guy is affiliated with that creep or not.

“I think everything’s all good over here,” You hesitantly tell the man who’s yet to talk but is also currently blocking your only way out.

“What are you doing out here?”

You startle at his robotic voice and subconsciously take a step back toward the unconscious thugs. “I’m just going home,” You answer in a higher-pitched voice than usual much to your chagrin.

Lowly goons you can deal with, but dual-wielding gunned, Joker-themed psychopaths?

Yeah, not so much.

You put up your hands in a lax surrender, slowly inching toward the bag of food that sits at the base of his ginormous combat boots. On second thought, cooking wouldn’t be too bad, right? You abort your mission, deciding big boy over here can have you stupid Mexican food if it means you don’t have to fight him.

“I won’t hurt you,” Comes his robotic reply.

Regardless of his words, you still feel like a deer in headlights. Your heart stops completely when he reaches near your frozen body to grab the bag. With your breath caught in your throat, you look up. His red helmet comes within centimeters of your face as he offers the bag of food in the direction of your cowering form.

You stand instantly, finally feeling like you can finally think again once you stand over his still crouching body. You watch as his monstrously thick thighs stretch the fabric of his cargo pants sinfully when he stands, once again gaining ground on you with his incredible height.

“Cool. Thanks,” You say with a forced smile as you attempt to get around his thick, built body. “I’ll be going now, then.” You give a tiny salute but startle, leaving the action suspended mid-air at the sound of one of the men you’d kicked coming to.

It’s also at this moment that the pounding sound of footsteps becomes clearer. In fact, the thunderous noise seems to be rounding the corner when you finally pick up on it.

“There she is! This way.”

You anxiously look up at the red helmet of the man standing next to you, hoping you can trust him.

“Follow me.” It’s all he says and, with your food in tow, you don’t hesitate to do exactly as he says. You trudge along behind his swift pace with your sandals slapping against the slush and muck of Gotham as he leads you deeper into the dark ally systems.

You follow him around an adjacent ally only to be roughly pushed up against the dirty brick wall.

“Hey!” You push off the wall and against his hard chest, but he easily pushes you back against the bricks. You squirm against his hold, attempting to protest as he covers your entire body with his and searches for whatever sound he’d apparently heard. “Listen, I don’t think it’s that deep.” He shushes you, but you roll your eyes and continue in a slightly lowered voice. “I mean, muggings in Gotham are basically a given. How is this any different?”

He turns his head back to you. “You want me to leave you like this, or what?” He threatens in his robotic voice as he eyes your revealing outfit up and down in the little space that remains between your bodies. “What are you supposed to be anyway? A hooker?”

You think back to the others who’d thought the same and wrinkle your nose in disgust.

“Hey, fuck you, man.” This time, he backs away when you push him off you. “You wish I was.” You pull down Stephanie’s shorts to regain some semblance of modesty, but it’s in vain. With your head slightly turned to see if the shorts were covering, well, anything you see shadows floating across where you’d just come from. You immediately feel your heartbeat start to tremble.

Just what the fuck is going on? Were these dudes really that ass-hurt about getting taken down by a girl?

The helmeted man sees the shadows at the same time you do and wastes no time in taking action.

It’s his turn to snort as he picks a different direction to walk in with a pace you can’t quite meet while walking, so you begin to jog next to him, “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

He does slow his pace a bit, though, much to your aching leg's delight and your ego's chagrin.

You ignore him and continue your best to keep up as you follow behind him. You’re definitely feeling more comfortable around the man after what seemed like genuine concern. “And I think I’d be okay, anyway. I mean, did you see the other guys? Yeah, plural. I totally had them.”

You walk ahead of him when you finally catch sight of the populated streets that you’d been nabbed from and hasten your pace.

“Yeah, but add ten more? You’re lucky I even saw you,” He's chastising you, you realize with an incredulous shake of your head, “I almost sped by you on my patrol route until I saw it was you- er an issue... happening.”

You know he’s right, but you try to play it off.

If you think about what could've happened for too long, you'll start to spiral back to your other close-call incidents. You shiver, quickly catching yourself, all while hoping he didn’t notice, but his unreadable helmet ultimately reveals nothing.

Quick to switch the subject, you boop the middle of his red helmet where his nose would be and motion him to take the lead again. “Well, thanks for seeing me and everything, I guess.”

He nods at you, coming to a stop at a parked red motorcycle before boarding it. It reminds you somewhat of Jason’s old one, but this one looks a helluva lot faster.

You make to get on, but he stops you, grabbing your finger. “No more boop’ing. Get on.” You hesitate with slight amusement at him saying the word ‘boop’.

“Two questions,” He motions for you to hurry the fuck up. “Do you have another helmet,” He nods and shuffles around under the seat before producing a black one for you. “Thanks. Okay, second question: are you good or bad?”

He scoffs at your juvenile question, “From your position what does it look like, ba-”

You don't have time to question him cutting himself off because you suddenly hear the approaching sound of footsteps that've been steadily gaining on you and your unlikely savior. You waste no time in dropping into the remaining space on the seat behind the dude’s massive form and quickly put on the helmet he gave you.

At least one of your questions had been answered.

You shove on your helmet and quickly climb on behind his hulking form.

One of the first and last times, you remember bitterly, that you’d been on a motorcycle had been when you skipped school for the first time with Jason and Roy. You don't let the memory linger too long, quickly shaking the embarrassing thought from your head and promising yourself that you will not orgasm on this masked man.

You blush at your thoughts, thankful he can’t see your flustered expression. “Well, your creepy voice doesn’t help any.”

“Listen, you got on my motorcycle. Might not be the best idea to piss off the driver.” The last part comes out somewhat rushed, like he's worried about something other than the thugs, but what exactly, you don’t understand. Nor do you fully trust yourself to be able to understand the stranger’s tone when it's all coming out robotic anyway. “I did save you, didn’t I?”

He speeds off, easily getting lost amongst the evening Gotham traffic. After a few turns, you begin to relax, breathing in the cool night air that whizzes by at the insane speed he's zipping around at.

When you exhale, you feel the weight of the situation release with it, not realizing how much tension you've actually been holding in.

“Save is a big word,” He just turns his head briefly at you before speeding up, leaving you to tighten your grip around his hard abdomen.

Do not orgasm, do not orgasm.

“Whatever you want to call it, but you are on my bike, so how bad could I be?” He screeches the bike suddenly, leaving you to slam uncomfortably into his back as he doubles back in the direction you’d just come from with a grating screech that reverberates throughout the streets.

You’re absolutely fucking terrified.

The lack of space between your bodies after his stunt isn't helping your other predicament either.

“Well,” You begin one of your nerd ramblings to get your mind off of the current situation, “you appear to be the vigilante Red Hood. When he first appeared in comics, Red Hood was the original alias of the man that would later become Joker, but your helmet’s all wrong.” You bravely unwrap one of your arms from around Red Hood’s waist to tap against his helmet. He sharply turns halfway as if to say “wtf I’m driving bro,” but you continue on anyway. “Joker’s helmet was originally made from two-way stained red glass, while this is more of a motorcycle fetish look.”

“Glad my outfit finally has a proper label, then,” His robotic voice tones, sarcasm somehow evident, as he makes a sharp turn, seemingly to get back at you. You cling onto him for dear life and peek open one eye over his shoulder to make sure you're still alive before burying your face into his back.

This is exactly where you stay for the remainder of his little joy ride.

Once he’s back to driving somewhat normally, you start up where you left off, peeling your cheek from the leather of his jacket to peer up at the side of his helmet. “So, basically I’m just confused if you’re similar to who you based your outfit off of or not. AKA good or bad?” You repeat your original question to him.

From what you can remember from things you’ve seen online, it seems like not even the news can pin down this dude’s motive, but then again, you can’t completely remember.

“My world isn’t so black and white,” You what he means, but he doesn’t answer again, instead focusing on slowing down to look around where he’s driven to, “Just tell me where I’m dropping you off, sweetheart.”

You squint your eyes at him, still not completely trusting his motives, “For sure.”

You’d basically been at their doorstep when you’d been attacked, so now, after his little speeding stunt, you're well on the other side of town. You start pointing in the direction of Jason and Roy’s apartment. Once you get to the general area, you tell him you’re there even though it's actually two blocks early and hop off.

“Thanks again for ‘saving me,’” You use air quotes as you walk up to the random apartment building. “Bye now,” You give a little wave, expecting him to drive off and are perturbed when he just sits there and watches. The blank look on his helmet does nothing to ease you further.

Even as you arrive at the keycard access door to an apartment, by the way, that's not your own and won’t allow access to the keycard you have, he continues to sit there. Waiting.

Who says chivalry is dead?

A quick glance down shows a seemingly amused(?) Red Hood, though you can't be too sure through the emotionless helmet. You wave to him again and turn around to face the door, pretending to fiddle around your beach bag, but he remains glued to the spot, looking at you with arms crossed.

What kind of babysitter would you be to bring this potentially dangerous man to the doorstep of their apartment?

At the same time, you reason, it would be somewhat worse to lead him back to your actual apartment where you lived alone. At least with Roy and Jason’s place, you’ll have two bulky dudes to back you up.

You sigh and turn around to get back on the bike.

“You ready to tell me where you actually live, babe?” You narrow your eyes at the familiar nickname, recognizing it to be what he’d cut himself off from saying earlier.

You roll your eyes and get back on the bike albeit hesitantly, where you gesture further down the street. This time you only take him a block away before you just start walking, hoping he'll just leave. Even as you prepare your backup plan, you know it's complete shit.

“One more down,” You mutter and wrap your arms back around him as he huffs robotically through the helmet.

“So, you won’t tell me where you live even after all I’ve done? I’m just trying to get you home safe and sound and you, for one, are making it extremely difficult.” He glances back at you incredulously.

Did he completely zone out your explanation of him wearing Joker’s first costume? Joker’s name alone is enough to send shivers down your spine. After your run-in with the killer, you wanted nothing to do with the psychopath. Considering Joker was this masked man’s whole persona, he doesn’t seem all that trustworthy to you.

Besides, you hadn’t even needed saving, anyway. You’d taken those three thugs down with ease after what Damian and his family had taught you.

“Try not to sound so hurt, random vigilante.” You guess that that would be the most accurate term for the man in front of you. His silence seems to indicate his acceptance, at the very least.

“It’s just Red Hood, by the way,” Nevermind, you’d guessed wrong, “not random vigilante.”

“Cool, whatever,” You say, hopping off his bike for the second time.

This time, as soon as you reach the door, you turn and shoo him with your hands.

If he could roll his eyes, you know he would’ve, but he does oblige you in driving off, leaving you with a vast sense of relief.

“Bye, Red Hood,” You yell after him, then tug your food bag closer to your chest.

You continue further down a block, hoping he isn’t still following you on his motorcycle, but the lack of revving makes you think the coast is clear, so you scurry home. Well, not home, you correct yourself, blushing at your slip-up. You mean to Jason and Roy's apartment. Duh...

Once inside, you're met with Roy and Lian hunched over the stove, making some sort of pasta concoction. You, once again, remind Roy that if he doesn’t want his child poisoned, he needs to let you or Jason do the cooking.

“The fuck is that?” You ask with a scrunched-up nose.

Roy smiles wide and lopsided, “Something like a pasta carbonara. Right, Lian?” The girl nods confidently beside him and continues to stir the haphazard goop around the pan.

“Guess I’ve got Spidey senses for your shi-oot cooking, or something because I grabbed this on my way over.” You set the cold bag of food down on the kitchen island before returning to Roy’s side to give both of them side hugs. “Also, don’t ask about the outfit unless you’re going to give me something to wear.” You warned Roy sternly, who already seemed to be doing his best not to stare at your oddly provocative outfit.

“Deal,” He winks as he begins to unload the containers. So much time had passed since you’d left the restaurant that you’d actually forgotten what everyone had ended up ordering “Wouldn’t wanna ruin the show.”

“Your child is right there, you perv.” You look around the empty apartment. “Where’s Jason, anyway?”

“Seems like you weren’t expecting him.” He points down to the three containers he’d set up. “Or expecting to come over here, at the very least.” He doesn’t try to hide the way his eyes are traveling up the expanse of your body. "Maybe you were, though," He winks easily. "That's hot."

“Ah, ah, ah!” You tsk at him. “Give me some clothes, Roy.”

“Ughhh,” He slumps off dramatically but returns moments later with one of his oversized slogan T-shirts and a pair of sweats. “Here, go change while I get her fed.” He goes over to where Lian’s attempting to put a fork into one of the styrofoam containers. “Lian, let me at least heat that up for you first!”

You chuckle and huddle into the bathroom that's already regained a bit of its original messiness to remove your damp suit. You forego Roy’s sweatpants and end up going commando in Stephanie’s shorts and braless in Roy’s ‘World’s Sluttiest Dad’ shirt.

Roy looks up from Lian as you approach and quickly uses his prosthetic hand to cover up his eyes at the sight of you. “Oh, man. Jason’s gonna kill me,” You raise a brow at him and grab the plate he held out for you with his other hand. “Absolutely, utterly kill me.”

“He’ll have to get in line after the night I’ve had.” You tell him about dinner with Barbara and Stephanie and how you figured you were close enough to walk, but then all the thugs. “And, Roy,” You look him dead in the eye, “I kicked ass, like serious ass.”

“Hey!” Comes Lian’s tiny voice. Roy banishes her over to the couch so you two can have a bit more privacy.

“Sorry!” You shoot Roy an apologetic glance across the kitchen island, but he’s still focused on your story. “But I totally knocked these three guys out and then this dude in a helmet- Red Hood,” You trail off at Roy’s sudden increase in interest.

He leans in, “Red Hood, you say?”

“Mhm,” You nodded. “He thought I was a hooker,” You laughed at the memory of what Red Hood had asked you.

Roy clasps his hands together, “Okay, so maybe Jason won’t kill me.” You tilt your head in confusion, not seeing the connection at all. “This is good. Anyway, continue,” Roy smiles brightly at you.

“So, remember when we skipped and took Jason’s motorcycle?”

Now, it’s Roy who’s confused. “You mean the time you came all over my arm? How could I forget.” He smirks at the exact same time your heart drops.

Oh, fuck no.

“ROY!” You short-circuit, ultimately forgetting how to function. “No, you did not know that this whole time.”

He grins slyly, “Oh, I didn’t?” He obnoxiously and extremely accurately, imitates how you’d bucked back into his crotch and spasmed on Jason’s back with your head thrown back on Roy’s shoulder. “‘Oh, Jason, you’re so angsty and hot with your motorcycle and leather jacket.’” He pitches his voice impressively high. “‘Take me now!’”

You bury your head in your hands with a pitiful whine, “Oh my god, I want to die. I really want to die.” You look up with begging eyes, “Please never ever mention this ever again. Like, EVER.” You beg desperately, looking into Roy’s mirthful green eyes, “I don’t think I can ever come back from this level of embarrassment, dude.”

He snickers. “Don’t worry. I’m pretty sure Jason’s forgotten about it by now.” He winks at you as you groan.

“Pretty sure?” You mumble pathetically. “A mercenary seems logical at this point, right?” You hide your face in your hands, wishing Roy would just leave for work already, but he's still picking at his plate.

“As long as it waits until we get back home from work, princess.” You quickly forget your shame at the sudden nickname. You still aren’t used to hearing him say your old nickname, but each time he does, you feel like a piece of you is complete. “Speechless? Yeah, I have that effect on the ladies,” You fake gag as he moves to stick his leftovers it in the fridge. “I gotta get heading out, though and you’re here early, so it works out perfectly. Jason’s gonna be mad he missed out on our date, though. That’s for sure.”

You deadpan, “Roy, I’m watching your child for money. It’s like the furthest thing from a date.”

“For money, you say?” He wiggles his brows obnoxiously referencing your earlier (lack of) outfit.

“Piss off. Don’t you have to put on your little business suit?” You try to tease his usual choice of stained clothes that always he leaves in, complete with those mysterious, heavy duffle bags, but he remains taking you in. It’s as if he’s peering deep into your soul with just a simple smile and you're embarrassed how quickly he makes you shut down. He’s never looked at you like this before. No, in the past, he never looked at you like he actually saw you, but it seems like he does now.

It can’t have been anything you’ve said, surely.

“I should probably get ready,” His voice trickles out deep and raspy, causing you to unwittingly gulp under the sudden shift.

Before you can bask in his attention, he quickly releases you from whatever spell he’d held you under as he walks past you and into the hallway. In his wake, you’re met with a whiff of his rugged scent.

“Don’t forget your briefcase!” You call to him in an even tone as he leaves the room to change, hoping it covers up just how much you’ve been thirsting over him.

You go to the couch to finish eating with Lian, then take your dishes to the kitchen to wash them in the sink as Roy passes behind you in his typical work attire and matching bags.

“Sooner or later, I’m going to start thinking you guys are serial killers or something with those heavy-ass bags you carry around,” You say as he unnecessarily passes behind you in the already tight space between the sink and the kitchen island.

“You’d probably be right,” Roy maniacally cackles and settles into a typical villain pose. “MWAHAHA!”

Lian squeals and runs over to Roy to grab at his cargo pant leg. “No, it’s more like this, dad.” She then proceeds to release her own, much cuter, evil laugh.

You can’t help but smile at the adorable yet slightly concerning sight in front of you. “Definitely serial killers,” You conclude, trying to ignore Roy’s heat from behind you.

“Be safe. Don’t do anything I would do!” Roy ruffles Lian’s hair and then yours.

He walks over to the door and opens it, but Lian refuses to let him leave. “Love you, dad!”

“Love you too. Be good.” He smooches her on the head and winks at you one final time. “Live up to my shirt, princess.”

Your face drops instantly, “Way to kill the moment, Roy.”

“Why kill it when we could… alive it?”

You snort, pushing him out the door, “Go before you lose the rest of your touch.”

“Ask, Jason- it never left, babe. I mean princess.” You tilt your head slightly at the correction but continue to shoo him off. After all, why would he care about using Jason’s old nickname for you?

One thing's for certain: you don’t understand anything concerning the two of them in the slightest.

A/N: is it getting hot in here??? hope u have a good day/ night!!

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#jason todd x reader #damian wayne x reader #reader x jason todd x roy harper #reader x roy harper #my fic: the art of rehabilitating snowbirds #my fic:ars #yes i was totally watching below deck while writing the first part lol #i always forget to add my personal tags here bc i mainly just add them on the ao3 chpater notes so check em out if you want!#jayroy #x reader #dc x reader

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