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jasntodds · 4 months

Text

Scars [J.T.]

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Summary: Jason lets you trace over his y scar

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, scars, mentions of death, bruises, cuts, general minor injuries, hurt/comfort

Words: 1,765

A/n: I just wanted something a little soft for once. If you wanna be tagged in my fics, you can click the link below, send me an ask/comment, or follow my library blog @jasntoddslibrary and turn on notifications if you prefer that!!

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Jason carries the weight of every horrible, traumatic, and agonizing event that’s ever happened to him across his body, etched in pale and raised lines across him like a used roadmap. He wears them as cruel reminders that this life is unfair and unjust, even when he tries his hardest to make it so. There are some he pays no mind to, and doesn’t even really notice most days because they are there. That’s that. But, there are others…there are others he looks at as a punishment for everything he’s ever done and everything he never was and could never be. They’re reminders, laughing back at him every day, a sinister echo of his mistakes.

Most days, he tries to pay them no mind, either.

You’re sitting on your knees right beside Jason, his side pressed against the bare skin of your calf. Your eyes are trained on his exposed abdomen, showcasing the scars and cuts and bruises he’s collected over the last few years.

It wasn’t that seeing his body covered in new and old injuries was jarring. That was mostly fine. After the first few weeks of being friends, it stopped being jarring because that's just how it is with Jason. He gets hurt sometimes. It comes with the job and you accept that part of him. The bruises and cuts were very rarely ever jarring. The other scars were never really jarring because of course he has them. That always made sense to you. It's the autopsy scar that is jarring.

With the others, he'd told you it comes with the job and then he'd watch your face contort into a scrunch of worry and paranoia over his well-being, something he doesn't think he deserves most days. When the comment didn't ease your worry, he'd kiss you and give his signature cocky grin, a silent promise that he's fine and the conversation would end. The autopsy scar conversation is never so simple.

You knew he died because he told you not long before you made things official. You knew the story about the Joker and his mom. He told you of the horrid night and bits of pieces of the after. But this is your first time seeing the physical damage of the night that still wakes him up in the middle of the night. Your chest aches for him and it's jarring because he did die and he has to carry that kind of weight forever, something you'll swear until the day you die he doesn't deserve.

With delicate fingers, you trace over the long line of the autopsy scar, Jason’s eyes glancing from your hand to your face. His stomach tenses with the movement and you can’t tell if it’s because your hands are cold, it tickles, or he’s uncomfortable. If you know Jason, you’re kind of figuring it’s the third option. So, you glance back to him, chewing the inside of your cheek.

“This okay?” You ask softly.

“It’s fine.” Jason answers, his thumb lightly brushing over your thigh furthest away from him. “Bother you?”

Jason has been cautious not to show you because he knows how he feels about it. He knows that you worry. Seeing some sort of proof of death seems like it might send you spiraling into some sort of tornado of worry until you spin too far away from him. He's been cautious because he adores you and he doesn't want to lose you and he doesn't want it scare you.

You look back to the scar, tracing over it again. “No.” You answer quietly. It hurts your chest because it happened to him. It happened to him and nothing in this world could ever justify the torture and pain he's been through. It doesn't bother you because it is a part of him and you adore him with every beat your heart drums. “Bothers you though.”

Jason’s brows pull together. “How’d you figure?” There’s the slightest bit of a bite in his words like a scared puppy, a default reaction to being seen.

“Why wouldn’t it?” The question leaves your lips freely with unfiltered candor.

Seeing it for the first time, yeah it bothered him. It bothered him because what was the point? It wasn’t some mystery how he died. Maybe it was just legal reasons bullshit that Jason doesn’t care about. Though, he does fully understand that maybe if he hadn’t come back, he wouldn’t care. Or if it had healed, he wouldn’t care. So, that’s something he can’t really blame Bruce for. Instead, it’s that it’s there. Looking back at him in the mirror. Staring up at him when he looks down. It’s always there. It’s as if he was cut open and the weight of death and punishment and regret scattered over his organs and bones, making sure he understands the weight of his own consequences. He just can’t quite shake it and the scar is the reminder.

"I guess." Jason lets out this shaky breath as his stomach tenses below your fingertips.

"It's okay if it bothers you, Jay." You assure him. "I'd bother me if I were you but..." You pause for just a second, pressing an open palm over some of the raised edges of the scar as your eyes are locked on his. "I hope it doesn't bother you too much because you got to live and I don't care what the other bats thought about it at first because I'm glad you got to come back. And you deserve to let the weight off your shoulders for once." Your eyes go back to the scar and trace up the line from the center of his stomach up to the right side of his chest.

Jason's thumb is rubbing lightly against your skin and he wonders why you make it seem so simple. No part of him thinks you believe it's simple but there's something in the way that you say it that almost gives Jason some sort of faith in the idea of it. That maybe there is a day where it won't feel like he's carrying the weight of the world. Maybe there is a day someday where he won't feel the aching and longing of his bones. You offer him tenderness and kindness when the majority of his life has been nothing but skinned knees and broken hearts.

That feels terrifying, too but...maybe he's tired of running away from things because they're good for him. And good to him.

Seeing the autopsy scar for the first time bothered him. Seeing it yesterday bothered him. But, at this exact point in time with your fingers running along the tattered edges, it doesn’t bother him so much.

“Thank you.” Jason holds his words steady with a sort of caution at the edges. "It's not bothering me now." His voice is quiet as his eyes glance to you and then back to your fingers on his skin.

He is entirely exposed to you now. There’s no going back even if that is absolutely terrifying. Jason keeps himself guarded to protect himself and protect everyone else around him. But, you make letting the guard down a little bit easier. You’re tender and delicate with him, two things no one ever is. At no point have you ever thought less of him for the things he’s done and things he’s seen, or the things that rip his body to shreds. You take him as he is and offer him understanding and kindness, two things Jason has been desperate to get from anyone. And he is so thankful for you.

“Good.” Your voice is quiet before your stare goes back to the scar. “I hope it never bothers you again.”

Jason sits up, closing some of the distance between you while you rest your hands in your lap. His eyes run over your face slowly while the corner of his mouth is pinched barely upwards. He looks content. He looks comfortable. His heart is beating a mile a minute as it’s about to run through his ribs. There’s something fluttering against it, something that feels warm and welcoming in the beating of his heart. There’s something that makes his breathing unsteady without ever sucking the air from his lungs. There is something that feels comfortable and like a home he didn’t think he’d ever find.

Jason leans forward, resting his forehead against yours and your entire body relaxes in that instant. He pulls away, pressing a kiss to your nose and then to your cheek before he rests his head in the crook of your neck. You turn your head and press a kiss to his temple before your hands come to his cheeks to pick his head up.

His eyes lock on your eyes and you adore him. You adore him for all that he is today. The scars never really bothered you because they hold him together. All of them have a story that has led Jason Todd to who he is today. They are proof that he is alive. They are proof that even when he was hurt, even when he was murdered, he is alive. The air can be pulled into his lungs and oxygen will circulate through his cells again. He is alive. The autopsy scar is just further proof to you because he shouldn’t have been brought back but he was. And that was for a reason. That scar is just another piece of proof he is meant to be here. It is another mark of how he got here today and you, for one, are eternally thankful that he is here today.

Your thumbs are running over his cheeks and Jason swears he has never felt so wanted by anyone. And he doesn’t feel so damn alone in the world anymore. He feels important and he only hopes he makes you feel the same way. He can only hope you understand how much you mean to him and that he is just as important to you.

Your lips come to his and he melts into your touch as he kisses you back. His hand comes up to the back of your head to pull you in closer. And he thinks he might do everything in his power to have more moments like these with you. You can trace his scars and he can tell you about them and you can exist in the bubble where it is only the two of you. You can trace his scars and he can run his fingers along your thigh and you both can feel wanted and important. And loved.

Tag List: @jasontoddsmentaldisorders // @purplerose291 // @lovelessamai // @makaelaseresin // @lenidaslenchen // @mayfieldss // @ghostkingblake // @dgraysonss // @im-done-with-this-im-out // @velvetskies // @vivian-555 // @kebonita // @deyja-the-duck // @jasontoddslover // @captainmarvels-blog // @totallynotkaibiased // @scarlovesyou // @whydoyoucare866 // @littlemeowmeow1000 // @septixtrash // @kplatzman // @killxz // @achromaticerebus // @lovefks // @kolpvii

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #red hood x reader #red hood x you #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #dc fanfic #dc fanfiction

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sanguineterrain · 27 days

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This is not on the prompt list(s), but I’ve been inspired by the phrase “This is for your own good.” and could we have a debut Red Hood Jason saying this to Vigilante!Reader, who was also his pre-death lover, as he’s keeping her prisoner in one of his bases so that she won’t be caught in the crossfire?

OOH. interesting prompt. I haven't really written a darker jason 😏 thanks anon! hope you like.

jason todd x gn!reader. DARK THEMES. drugging, toxic relationship, codependency, chain restraints, knife threats (not from jason). what would happen if jason's best traits (protecting the people he loves, prioritizing safety) manifested in the worst way?

****

"This is for your own good, baby."

You pull at your chains, making them clink against the floor. You snarl as he steps back.

"This is crazy, Jason! Let me go!"

Jason looks at you in sympathy. It pains him to see you like this; Jason never wants to do anything that'll frighten or upset you. Your comfort and happiness always precede his. He'd put a gun into his mouth without hesitation if it would save you.

But he means it: this really is for your own good.

"I thought you were better than this," you say savagely. "I thought you of all people would understand how wrong this is."

"I know it's wrong," Jason says quietly. "I know I'm a bastard and fucked in the head. I know I don't deserve ya. But this is the only way. You won't stop going out there. You're too sweet for this city. It'll tear you apart, and I won't let that happen."

"That isn't your decision to make, Jason!" you say, squirming in your restraints.

You take a deep breath. The Bats only respond to logic when they're this deep in paranoia. You have to appeal to that.

"Jason, listen to me. I know you're scared of me getting hurt, but I know what I'm doing. I've done this for a long time, just like you—"

"And that's exactly where the danger lies. Things go wrong all the time, no matter how long you've been out there. I'm expendable. You're not."

Jason tugs once, twice, three times on your ankles and wrists. Satisfied, he moves on to the chain around your waist that's connected to the wall. It gives you a walking range of about five feet before you're yanked back. Jason had fussed about bedsores, and what keeping you in a bed would do to your range of motion. This was his compromise.

I'm not a monster, he'd insisted. I don't want to hurt you.

"Jason, please," you say. He starts to walk away and you chase him. The wall chain pulls and you land on your knees. Jason stops, looking down at you. You start to cry.

"Jason, please, please! Please don't leave me like this," you say, reaching with bound hands to grab his pant leg. "Please. This isn't right. I'm not a doll for your keeping!"

"I don't think of you as a doll," Jason says, kneeling in front of you. He holds your cheek and wipes a tear with a gloved thumb. "Oh, sweetheart, don't cry. Please don't cry. Hate to see it. I won't keep you like this forever. 'S just until I finish up in Gotham. Then we can go away from all this. Live normal lives."

"This is the life I want to live!" you shout, pawing at his clothes. "Let me go, Jason, let me go!"

"Baby. Hey, hey. You're gonna work yourself into a frenzy. Y'want something to calm you down? Make y'feel nice and sleepy."

Your blood turns to ice. No. No drugs. If Jason drugs you now, there's no telling when or if he'll stop. This is a man who was trained by Batman. You're sure he knows about every drug there's to know about.

You shake your head, your crying becoming quiet blubbering. "No. N-no drugs. Please."

He pets your forehead. "'Kay. No drugs, baby. 'S okay, see? I'll be back in a few hours and then we can eat and I'll draw you a bubble bath. Those are your favorite, remember?"

Jason kisses your salty cheek and stands, putting on his helmet. Like this, looming over you, in full Hood gear, Jason is terrifying. The reminder strikes you again, how capable and deadly your lover is.

Jason leans in and pets your cheek. "So pretty. Love you so much. Won't let anything happen to you, baby."

You watch, defeated, as Jason leaves, locking the door behind him. You listen for the sound of the lock clicking.

Then you get to work on finding an escape.

****

You keep your breathing silent as you wait. Your limbs ache from how long you've been crouched in hiding, but it doesn't matter. Nothing matters except escaping.

The door opens and shuts. Jason quietly removes his boots and helmet, surveying the apartment like always. He sets a plastic bag on the coffee table. The smell of Thai food fills the apartment.

"Baby? Hey, I'm home. Brought your favorite takeout."

You wait until he walks by your spot behind the TV. Then you strike.

You take Jason down to the floor with a move that only works due to your element of surprise. Then you hold a dagger to his neck, the cold metal pressed flat.

Jason regards you calmly, hands at his sides. You pant furiously, pressing the blade warningly.

"Let me go," you order. "I won't be chained up like that."

"I see," he says, and the way he says it is scarily reminiscent of Batman. You keep that to yourself.

"I mean it, Jason. You can't do that. I'll—I'll call someone on you. Bruce, Clark, Dick. Somebody."

"Alright." Jason holds up his hands slowly. You watch the movement, nerves raw. "Alright. 'S okay. Just breathe. You're upset, I get that."

"I don't—I don't wanna hurt you," you say, squeezing the dagger harder. Your hand cramps in protest. "But if you make me..."

Jason nods. "Yeah, baby. I know. 'S okay. We can fix it. 'M not mad."

"Don't talk to me like that," you snap. "I'm not stupid, Jay. Not stupid."

"I know, sweetheart. I know you're not stupid. I don't think you are. Y'wanna cut me? Feel like hurtin'?" He leans into the blade, breathing steady as a river. "Go on, honey. I heal quick. You need to do it, take it out on me."

The thought of hurting Jason makes you sick. For all of his misguided protection, he hasn't hurt you. Hasn't laid a hand on you or shouted at you. Every form of restraint is as gentle as possible.

"No," you say, voice wobbly. "I-I don't wanna hurt you. Please don't make me."

Jason strokes your arm with his thumb. "No, I won't. You'll never have to hurt anybody. And I'll never let you get hurt either. 'S okay. You're safe with me. 'S me, just Jay."

Jason's hand wraps around the wrist with the knife. You stiffen, and the blade slips. A thin line of blood beads on his neck. He loosens his grip.

"Okay," he says. "Alright. You're safe."

"I don't wanna be chained," you say, tears in your eyes. "I can't be chained. I'll go fucking crazy, Jason."

"I know. I'm sorry. We don't have to do chains."

Your heart hammers in your chest. But Jason is nothing but calm. Blood sluggishly drips down his neck. Your eyes widen.

"I'm sorry," you say, reaching for his neck. "I'm sorry, Jaybird, I didn't mean—"

"I know." He catches your hand. "Shh, shh. That's okay. 'S just a scratch. It was an accident, baby, that's all."

Tears fall down your cheeks. "I don't wanna hurt you."

"I know." Jason slips the knife out of your hand. He slides it away. You collapse into his embrace.

"I can do it," you say, sobbing. "I can go out there, Jay. Please just believe me. Please trust me. You trusted me before."

Jason cradles the back of your head. He slots you between his legs and rocks back and forth. You put your arms around him. His heart is an even thump against your ear.

Finally, you've gotten through to him. Jason isn't completely gone after all.

"Don't worry," he says. "Don't worry, 's okay. It'll all be fine. I know my mistake. I'll be better. It'll be better for us."

Something pricks your neck.

Hope sinks like a rock in your stomach. You squirm, but Jason holds fast, legs trapping yours. You whale on his shoulders with your fists. He holds your biceps, expression sorrowful.

"Baby—"

"No, you promised. You promised!" you scream. "You promised me!"

"It's just to soothe your nerves, honey. Please don't—"

You lunge for the knife, ready to do some serious damage. Jason tackles you before you can. He traps you on the floor, holding you down in a full lock. He holds your arms to your sides, and your legs are pinned to the floor. It's perhaps the gentlest restraint you've ever experienced. You scream and thrash, but it's no use.

"You monster! You're no better than any of them!"

"Sorry, 'm sorry," Jason says. No matter how much you fight, his grip won't budge. You've never been a match for Jason's strength or ability.

"I hate you! You don't love me!"

"I do, I do love you." Jason rests his forehead against your spine. "Christ, your life means more than mine. I won't lose you. You're the only one who matters."

His words are muffled. Your world is going fuzzy. The drug is kicking in.

"You promised," you say weakly, wiggling in one last attempt.

Jason tucks his face into your neck as you fall unconscious.

"I'll keep you safe," he says, lips on your neck. "No matter what."

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #red hood x reader #red hood x you #dark jason todd x reader #dark red hood #jason todd x yn #soft dark fic #red hood fanfiction #jason todd fanfiction #inbox #blurb #dc fanfiction #batman fanfiction #jason todd imagine

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solar-wing · 5 months

Text

⚣ Submission 🗣️

⚣🗣️ A/N → Something I couldn't get out of my head after I saw this TikTok. You can't tell me this wouldn't be Jason in this situation. WARNINGS: none

⚣🗣️ Summary → Imagine being in a relationship with Jason Todd where you know Jason could easily beat you in a fight but it never stops you from talking shit as if you’ll fuck him up, and he just lets you…

⚣🗣️ Words → 851

REBLOGS & replies are greatly appreciated, please! 💛

⚣ ENJOY 🗣️

It’s not something Jason admits he finds amusing and adorable about you, but the fact that he lets you do it without any real pushback is telling enough. Because imagine, this towering and colossal-sized man, definitely over 6 feet and huge mass with the muscles to show and is a trained fighter (no matter how informal), getting beaten in a fight between him and his shorter and/or smaller boyfriend.

And it’s not to say you could never beat him in a fight, oh no! Your Jaybirdie would never want you to believe he doubts your capability and skills like that. Actually, he’d very much like and would encourage you to be able to learn how to take him down. It would help with his anxiety and fear of you being out in the world without him there to protect you, feeling more at ease knowing you could defend yourself if need be.

He’s definitely planning to make that a reality, because if you two are going to continue to be in a relationship, Jason needs to know that you can protect yourself without him there. It’s something you both talked about and he made it clear when you first got into a serious relationship about him and his family’s side careers.

But, until then, Jason will happily and silently enjoy the trash-talking and play fights with you. It just gives him more of an excuse to have your body rubbing against his, the perv…

It always starts small and silly.

Whether you’re just feeling playful or want attention, it doesn’t matter. You and Jason will be cuddling on the couch or the bed and engaging in your usual harmless domestic banter. Or he’ll be minding his own business cooking, reading, or going over cases and reports, and you’ll just come up and start messing with him.

Messing up his hair, poking him in his face, slapping his butt, and shoving against his body. Despite popular belief, Jason has a somewhat good level of patience and will endure it, but then you start talking shit.

“Oh, was that important? Looks like you’ll need to start over,” You’ll say after purposely jerking his hand while he was writing notes down on a mission report.

“Oops, looks like you dropped something. You’re so freaking clumsy,” said with a jeering tone after knocking the book Jason was reading out of his hands.

“Aww, is the little baby getting upset? Don’t cry baby, it’ll be okay,” You’ll respond in the most insulting baby voice knowing how much Jason despises it and usually ends up being his last straw.

The vigilante will give a soft shove and a warning look to you and that’s all you need. You’ll start taunting him even more and pushing yourself against him, grabbing at his wrists and arms as he holds you back.

“You feeling tough all of sudden? Am I going to have to mess you up like last time?”

Ding. Ding. Ding.

The next moment, Jason’s patience has officially run out and now, the two of you are rolling around on the bed, couch, and floor trying to pin the other. Well, you’re trying to pin him.

Jason’s just holding you off with ease and letting you slip out of his grabs now and then, letting you think you’ve got a chance. Of course, that leads to more shit-talking.

“Man, what kind of criminals are you fighting? You’re no match for me.”

Of course, as things will go when it comes to wrestling between two males, it eventually gets a little out of hand. You’ll shove Jason too hard, accidentally land a hit on his face or nether region, or you’ll even purposefully try to cheat to which your boyfriend responds by immediately putting you in a submission.

Never anything too rough or painful, just enough to immobilize you until you calm down and stop fighting back. But, even the non-painful ones are a bit much for you since you’re not used to fighting like Jason is, so you’ll typically give in within a few seconds, especially when he puts a little pressure on you and jerks you a bit as payback for all the trash talk.

It doesn’t stop you though, since as soon as you’re both done and back to whatever you were doing, you’ll continue to talk shit at your boyfriend like you had him in submission.

“Hopefully you learned your lesson.”

“We can clearly see who the big guy is in this relationship now. Don’t worry little man, maybe you’ll win again next time.”

“Light work. Maybe we should get you some classes small fry.”

And so much more trash-talking and playful jabs until the next round. But, Jason doesn’t mind. As long as he’s the one getting to put you in a submission at the end, he’ll let you trash-talk him all day, every day.

☀️ | Jason Todd/Red Hood | ☀️

☀️ | Masterlists | ☀️

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indulgentdaydream · 1 month

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i LIVE for the nurse!reader work!!! i was wondering if you could do more nurse!reader where jason gets badly injured during patrol and she has to like stitch him up

one where shes training as a family doctor and jason walks in on her comforting a little kid while she gives him an injection/shot?

either one is fine!

btw...YOUR WRITING IS SO COMFORTING

omg thank you!! I'm so happy my writing brings comfort to people. I usually use writing as a way to bring comfort to myself 😂

This can be read as both a stand alone and a sequel to Meet Cutes, my original Nurse!Reader work! It's not necessary to read Meet Cutes to read this

Comfort

Jason Todd x Nurse!Reader || Fluff Word Count: 2,014 Warnings: Blood, stitches, concussion, brief nod to Jason’s death by the mentioned date (April 27th)

2/6 fic of the line up! there was no way in hell i was getting them all out by his birthday I have no idea what I was on when I said that (pain killers. it was pain killers) (prescribed pain killers)

It was an unbearably hot night in Gotham. One that had Jason shucking his thick leather jacket off and fisting it in his hand as he stumbled through the alleyways.

Stupid Killer Croc. Stupid sewers. Stupid heat for making the sewers smell even worse. Stupid him for letting that oversized lizard get the jump on him.

Jason enters the clinic through the back door, as per usual. He didn’t need you getting caught up in vigilante problems just because people had seen him coming and going from this place.

The bright lights of the clinic have him flinching, his head pounding inside his helmet casing. He closes the door behind him by leaning against it. He hisses, pressing the fabric of his jacket to the bloody gash on his left shoulder blade. His armour had cracked off in a jagged line, leaving the flesh exposed. Killer Croc had used it as a nice place to sink one of his claws in when he picked Jason up off the disgusting sewer floor. It wasn’t bad. Fairly deep, but, as he usually told you, he’s had worse.

Usually, with injuries as simple as this, Jason would go to his nearest safe house and tend to it all himself. But, with this particular wound, he couldn’t reach around without his shoulder screaming in pain, nor without potentially giving himself the shittiest stitches known to man.

Best he could do for now is clamp his jacket to it with his right hand. Second best thing he could do was trip and stumble his way through Gotham, making wrong turns and headed in five different directions before he had picked the right one.

His head was stuffed with cotton. Maybe sewage. He wanted his helmet off, too suffocating for him in the moment, but he didn’t have his domino mask on.

Jason knew you were always the last one working. You would come in a few hours later than your other coworkers, just so you could keep the clinic open just that much longer for the unwilling victims of Gotham's nightly activities.

He wasn’t a part of those victims. Jason was one of the willing ones.

All in all, he admired you for your effort. A small star in a smog filled night sky. Brighter than what people realized.

Jason stepped towards your office door. It was open giving him a solid directory. His steel toes felt heavy on his feet. That’s what he’s blaming for the fact that he tripped over his own feet, his head swimming.

Jason fell against the door frame. His left shoulder hit the edge, pulling a deep groan of pain from him. He bumped into the door, sending it flying into the wall. He finally regained his balance, still leaning his head on the frame.

He faintly registered your gasp of surprise.

“Hood!" you cried, jumping up from your office chair, stepping closer, "What happened? What's wrong?"

Jason hated the way he gravitated towards you. He leaned into your touch when you grabbed a hold of his arm to steady him, to move him closer into the room.

This is weakness. He thought briefly through the thick fog surrounding him. Relying on some nurse. He should've never let himself get close to you. You don't even know his name. Or what his face looks like. But having you run to his aid with such a worried expression on your face is far too close to have you.

"Lay down. On your stomach."

Jason blinked. Your voice brought him back to the present, his head still spinning. He was sitting on the cot, pushed up against the wall. His jacket was hanging off the back of your office chair, bloody. The shoulder of his shirt cut off by your scissors, revealing part of his chest and back, too.

He doesn't remember any of that. Maybe he is in worse shape than he thought.

"Hood. Lay your ass down."

Jason followed your orders, "You have such graceful bedside manner, Nurse."

You scoff, already slipping your gloves on and dissinfecting yourself, ready to work.

You applied the stinging disinfectant to Jason's skin, making him suck in a sharp breath. The noise sounded odd, yet still recognizable through his voice modulator, "More like Nurse Ratched."

You pout, confused, "Who?"

Jason sighs, feeling his cheeks burn a little, "Nevermind..."

Your silent for a while, continuously threading the needle through Jason's skin as you pull it together.

"So..." you drawl out. "You gonna tell me how this happened?"

Jason was silent for another moment, "Mmmm... would if I could focus right now, sweetheart."

You paused on the last stitch, "Hm?"

He shifted his head lightly, peering at you through the corner of his vision, "What?"

You let out a breathy laugh, "I'm guessing you hit your head, too?"

Jason let out another robotic hum, "Got thrown into a wall."

"Did you now?" You step back from him, finished your work.

Jason nodded, "Lizard."

Stifling another laugh you started to clean up your tools, "You got thrown into the wall by... by a lizard?"

Jason didn't move, his speech a little slurred, "Fuckin' overgrown murder lizard..."

“Murder Lizard?”

He briefly waved a hand in dismissal, “Whatever his name is.”

“…Killer Croc?”

“…yeah. Him.”

You tapped his gloved hand, "Can you sit up and answer some more questions for me, Hood?"

Jason groaned as he pushed himself back up, moving slow. Once he was up, his head began to pound all over again. He reached up, pressed the release button under his jaw. A small hissing sound of the releasing pressure sounded.

He saw you stiffen, your eyes a little wide in shock, "What are you doing?"

“'s fine. I trust ya," He lifted the red helmet off until you were able to see his whole face. He remembered that not even a domino mask was hiding his eyes in the moment "'sides. It's too tight f'r me right now."

Jason believed he was a sight to see. All scars, disheveled hair, the yellowing bruise along the right side of hjs jaw from a few weeks ago, his crooked teeth and his crooked nose. Your eyes were wide, taking him in. He couldn't tell if it was in fear, shock, or awe. He was so much better at reading people, usually.

“I know,” a small smirk tugged at his lips, the right side of it staying lower due to the pain of his bruise, “Much more of an ugly mug then you were expecting, eh sweetheart?"

He saw you narrow your eyes. You didn’t like that comment. He could tell. What did he say? Nothing but his own truth.

…did I just fucking call you ‘sweetheart’?

A beam of light entered his vision.

He cringed back, "Ugh!"

You held up your small flashlight, switching it between Jason's eyes, "When were you born?"

Jason blinked rapidly, rubbing at his eyes now that you had pulled away the light. “April 27th,” he paused, pinching the bridge of his nose. “No. Fuck. That’s not it.”

You opened your drawer again and put the flashlight away, “You have a concussion.”

"No shit," His head was pounding to the point he could hear it in his ears.

"I'll let you go on two conditions."

Jason kept his eyes on you. He enjoyed the sight of your face much better than that agonizing light.

“First. Promise to rest up,” you gave him a pointed look.

Jason shrugged. He’d try.

“Promise.”

He groaned, “Fine. I promise.”

You looked pleased with yourself. He tried to push away the want to put that look on your face all the time.

“Second. Call somebody you know and trust to drive you home.”

He looked away from you. There was no one he trusted with that info. His safe house or this clinic. Or you.

“Fine,” you rolled away in your chair and pulled out a pen and paper. “Go get changed into some civilian clothes and I’ll call you a taxi.”

“You’re not payin’ for that,” Jason said quickly. His head hung low as his head pounded to the beat of his heart.

“That’s fine,” you pulled a roll of gauze from your drawer and stepped closer to him. “Do you have any Alieve or Tylenol at home?”

He barked out a laugh that ricocheted through his skull, “With how much I’m in here? Who do you think I am?”

You gave him a deadpan look. You began wrapping his shoulder and his stitches.

He gave a small smirk. He liked looking at your face. A nice sight for his sore eyes.

He blinked again. You were very close to him. His heart picked up in time with the throbbing of his skull.

He looked away, scowling.

Weakness.

“If I give you anything, I have to write down who I’m giving it to. It’s policy, I’ll need a name. Do you have alieve or tylenol at home Red?”

Jason let out a hum. He leaned forward pinched his nose bridge in thought again. Everything was fuzzy, “Maybe?”

“What name am I writing then?”

He didn’t even think to hesitate. He registered how that was a bad thing, but his concussion was stopping him from thinking properly. “Jason Todd.”

You let out a laugh right next to his ear.

He flinched, wincing at the sound, “What?”

“That’s the fakest name I’ve ever heard.”

It took him a second to register what you meant. That was his name. You were one of the few he had actually introduced himself to as himself in a while, and you didn’t believe it was his name.

You finished wrapping his bandages and stepped away. He found himself missing the warmth. “Mhmm. What address are you gonna give me now? 1234 Main Street?”

He scowled a little more than he already was. He felt his ears burn, “567 Main Street North.” It was one of his safe houses he was getting rid of soon. A place no one would find him by the end of the week.

You laughed again. It grated on his ears, but he was sure it’d be music without this concussion.

The rest of his visit was a bit of a blur. You told him to go change into civilian clothes. He remembers telling you it was fine, that he didn’t mind having the Red Hood be seen taking a taxi. You reminded him his shirt was half torn off. He put his armour back on and zipped up his jacket over top. You were calling a taxi by the time he had gotten his helmet back on.

The entire time he was trying to guess what your laugh sounded like normally. Surely he’s heard it before? Why couldn’t he remember?

Right. The concussion.

Red Hood was stepping out the door of your office when you called after him.

“Stay safe.”

He let out a small laugh, looking back over his shoulder at you, “Never do, sweetheart.”

You laughed too and he felt his ears burn again. He needed to shut up and stop letting that slip.

“That’s the third time you’ve called me that.” You crossed your arms, leaning back in your chair. “You must really be out of it.”

Jason frowned behind his helmet. He doesn’t remember three times.

…okay maybe two. But not three.

You gave a knowing smile, ignoring it, “You just have to make sure I always have my work cut out for me, don’t you?”

Jason smiled behind the helmet, “I like seeing you.”

He wanted to bash his head against that brick wall again. Especially when your grin got a little wider and his face got a little hotter.

“‘Kay, bye.” He walked out before you could respond.

Jason never did wait for the taxi. He left through the back door like always and made his trek back to the closest safe house. He clutched the box of tylenol he had stuffed in his pocket, feeling the tug of his stitches when he found his bike and revved the engine before peeling away into the night.

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #dc #red hood #jason todd fic #red hood x reader #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x you #red hood x you #jason todd x gn!reader #jason todd x male!reader #jason todd x nurse!reader #missy writes

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kimberly-spirits13 · 6 months

Text

Rescuer

Pairing: Jason Todd x (hero) reader

Word Count: 2610

Warnings: Mentions of blood, needles, death, stitches, a bit angsty but then fluff, not really proof read

Summary: After getting hurt on patrol, Jason comes to rescue you from your captors, leaving a trail of destruction in his wake.

Maybe you had been captured and moved to a new location. Maybe you were bleeding out in some rat-infested warehouse. Maybe you were- Jason wouldn’t think that. He couldn’t think that. The mere image of your body gone cold sent chills down his spine and sent him into overdrive.

Rain pelted against his helmet as he sped through the streets of Gotham. He knew that splitting up was a bad idea. Bruce had wanted to split the patrol teams up to ensure that Ivy’s shipments were being handled. You were supposed to be fine, the shipment you were going after was meant to be a dud. Bruce had valiantly offered to put himself in danger by going after the suspected live shipment. Apparently, the information had been bad, and now Jason was rushing to your distress call, flying past cars crowding his way and cursing Bruce for making Jason leave you. Jason knew that you could handle yourself, it was why he was okay leaving you alone. You were a match for every member of the family and rouges gallery, he was sure that if you had called a distress signal, something terrible had happened.

Jason felt like he was the only one coming for you. He had left his brothers in the dust when he heard the blaring alarm coming from your comm. The others were coming, but it wasn’t fast enough for him. As he flew through the city streets, he came to a group of warehouses on the West Side where he knew you were located. The signal became stronger and stronger as he reached the roof of the specific warehouse. Looking down, he saw a group of guards standing around you. You were lying on the floor, blood pooling under your body. The site made a harsh wave of fury swell up in his chest. Jason felt his arms go numb and his breathing quicken.

“Those bastards” he thought. They must have been under the control of Ivy’s venom. This was the only way he could justify your current position.

“ETA 5 minutes, do not engage.” Bruce’s voice rang out.

“Bullshit,” Jason spat, “I’m going after her. She’s surrounded.”

“No, stay low and report.” The voice of Bruce rang into his ear, “Don’t leave post, that’s an order”

Jason observed the scene below him and saw one of the men walking towards you, his foot grazing the side of your arm and applying a pressure that made you wince in pain. Dark circles were forming under your eyes, indicating the presence of Ivy’s venom. At this, nothing could have stopped Jason.

The sound of glass shattering echoed through the building as the man who had his foot on you fell to the ground following a piercing boom. The clank of his gun falling on the floor next to your head sent a heavier pounding sensation through your already aching skull. You groaned and tried to roll over away from the noise, only to realize that it was everywhere.

“Jason must be here.” You thought.

Jason saw you try to move, and his heart ached. He knew that you were in pain, incapacitated from whatever happened earlier. The gaggle of men aimed their weapons towards him and opened fire as he ran through the shadows, avoiding the bullet spray as he was trained to. Grabbing for his holster, he drew his pistol and aimed for the would-be leader of the gang. The man dropped to the floor, the familiar sounds of metal clashing against the floor ringing out once more. A call to action rolled through the room as Jason emerged from the shadows, bullets from his pistol now raining on the perpetrators. Two men attempted to tackle him at once, ending in Jason wrapping them together with a line and executing them with little scrutiny of their situation. Another shot at him, nearly grazing the side of his armor before he too dropped to the ground from a shot Jason had sent to him. As the fight went on, Jason steadily dismantled the group, turning his attention to the last man he saw standing who had dropped his weapon, knowing that he was out of ammunition.

The man screamed as Jason leapt onto him, fists flying high and hard, the sounds of cracking under his knuckles filling your ears. Blood spurted from the man’s mouth, signaling not only broken teeth, but internal bleeding. After a minute, the man stopped struggling, Jason continuing his blind rage driven beating. You turned to him, trying to move closer to your only safety when you saw one of the seemingly incapacitated men reaching for a dropped gun from a fallen comrade and reach it around Jason’s head.

“You’ll end up just that like bitch, Hood.” He spat, holding the gun closer to Jason’s head, “Don’t move or I’ll-“

The sound of a shot rang through the room and then the clashing of a body on the floor. You had mustered the last of your strength, grabbing the rifle the man who Jason had killed first had dropped next to your head. Squinting to avoid seeing double, you braced against the floor and pulled the trigger once you were certain your aim would withstand against the drug working through your system. With a groan, you fell back once more, dropping the weapon and sprawling against the concreate floor.

Jason flew towards you, sliding on his knees on the floor once he came within a foot or so of you. You winced when he picked you up into his arms, still on the ground to assess the damage.

“Come on baby, you’re okay. Where’s the wound Y/N/N?” He asked, panic lacing his voice.

“Jason” Was all you could say groaning into the pain you felt.

“It’s okay Y/N/N, I’m here. Where are you hurt?” He started stripping your outer gear, searching for a stab, a shot, something that would indicate what was wrong.

His hands roaming your side were what found a deep stab wound. Ripping open the clothes in the impacted area, he saw that the skin was already bruising, a green liquid staining the outside of your skin.

“They got her with a venom laced knife.” Jason said into the comm.

“Use the antidote, it should treat it immediately.” Dick answered, finally running into the room where you were, “Inject it by the site of the wound, about a centimeter from the center.”

Dick looked around at the carnage and then saw his brother cradling you in the center. The sight made his skin crawl. Blood was everywhere, a mixture of everyone’s who was unlucky enough the stand in the wake of Jason’s rage. If Bruce didn’t show up, Dick wouldn’t say anything to him. You were almost limp in Jason’s arms, eyes fluttering open and shut every minute or so. Dick heard Jason talking to you gently and his heart sank at your condition.

“This is gonna pinch baby. You can do it, I’ve got you.” Jason said, injecting the antidote as quickly as possible.

You groaned, not appreciating the stinging rushing into your side once more.

“ETA 5 minutes.” Tim’s voice rang into the comms, “Batmobile is ready for transport.”

“Forget it,” Jason said into it, “I’ve got the antidote, get the med bay ready in the cave.”

“You can’t take her on your bike Jason.” Dick interjected, “She’s not in condition for it.”

“You got any better ideas Dick?” Jason said, a tone of frustration coming through his voice, “We’re both on bikes and she doesn’t have five extra minutes in her.”

Jason bound a bandage tight around your side, stopping the bleeding as best he could. You had a vice grip around his arm as the stinging and sheer pain of the antidote flooding through and eradicating the venom swept through your body.

“Fine, you take her to the cave, I’ll handle Gordon and venom recovery.” Dick said, the sound of sirens starting to blare in the distance.

Jason gave a nod of thanks to Dick before turning his complete attention to you.

“Y/N/N can you hear me, baby?” Jason asked, running a hand over your forehead and into your hair.

You groaned in response, not able to muster a “yes”. The lights in the warehouse and the bright red from his helmet that he hadn’t had time to take off yet were blinding you and you shut your eyes once more.

“Stay with me babe, I’m going to pick you up now and get you on the bike. Can you handle that?” Jason asked.

“Mhmm.” You mustered up.

Strong arms wrapped around you and hoisted you into the air. You instinctively curled into his chest, an arm wrapped around his neck and onto his shoulder. Your head lulled back, all strength to hold yourself up leaving you.

“Good job doll. I’ve got you now.” He said, breaking into a run towards the bike.

It was still raining when Jason reached where he parked his bike, sliding you onto the seat and placing himself behind you to support you.

“This is the hardest part baby; you can do it.” You heard the clink of the kickstand go up and the load roar of the engine coming to life.

In a sudden motion, you knew you were speeding out of the complex and onto the main road, Jason weaving the bike throughout traffic. Every few seconds he’d glance down to check that you were still breathing. You tried your best to keep yourself up, not wanting to lean against Jason too much as to not throw him off. He seemed to notice this struggle quickly.

“You’re okay Y/N. Relax, I’ve got you.”

It seemed like an eternity yet only a few seconds before Jason rolled into the Batcave. Feelings arms around you once more, you were picked up and ran to the med bay.

“You’re okay Y/N, we’re here now, you’re going to be fine.” It seemed like Jason was saying these things, more so to convince himself that you were alright.

“She’s got the antidote going through her system.” You heard him say, “She needs stitches.”

“Lay her here.” Alfred’s voice chimed in.

You could have smiled upon hearing Alfred. Knowing you were in good hands, you went totally limp on the table, not having a care in the world. Jason’s fingers brushed against your face as an oxygen mask was strapped over your head.

“Indeed, this is a nasty wound Miss. Y/N.” He quipped, not truly confident that you were listening, but merely trying to cut the tension in the room and relax Jason, “No matter, it’s nothing I cannot handle.”

The clear plastic of the mask you were wearing fogged and cleared, giving perfect indication that you were still breathing. Jason was working on removing your gear as carefully as possible to not get in Alfred’s way. Minutes had passed and the stinging sensation of Alfred stitching up and disinfecting your wounds had subsided. A pain killer must have been administered to you as you were out of consciousness. You heard Jason and Bruce talking loudly but not arguing, something that made you feel better about the entire situation. Loud steps came closer to you, the familiar sound of Jason’s boots making thud noises against the stone floor of the med bay.

“She’ll be fine Master Jason.” Alfred assured him, “I say the best course of action is having her cleaned up and in bed, not this blasted table.”

“Will do.” You heard Jason say, “Thank you Alfred.”

“It is my honor, Master Jason.” “I am only glad that you arrived when you did.”

“You and me both.” Jason mumbled, picking you up once more.

“Let’s get you cleaned up doll.” He said gently, walking towards the elevator that led into the rest of the house, “Does that sound good to you?” “yea, sounds great.” You answered softly, strength slowly returning to you as the antidote was steadily working against the venom.

You closed your eyes again and the next thing you knew was the cold sensation of marble against your skin. Looking around, you saw that you were in Jason’s bathroom, and he was standing over the bathtub faucet, adjusting the temperature as to not be too hot or cold.

“You alright baby?” He asked, walking back over to where you were and kissing your temple, “You scared me back there.”

“Sorry Jaybird.” You replied weakly, “Got ambushed.”

“It’s okay doll, you’re okay now.” “Just rest, I’ll get you cleaned up and in bed.” He said, “Is that still okay with you?”

“Yea,” you answered, “thanks Jay.”

He nodded, dipping a soft washcloth into the warm water, and lathering soap onto it. The bubbly water tingled against your skin as he dragged the cotton rag against your skin as gently as possible. You felt safe with Jason, no matter how close to demise you had come earlier.

“It was stupid.” You thought to yourself, “How could I be so careless?”

You sighed in disappointment, alerting Jason of your thoughts.

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

“Just- stupid of me.” You groaned, “Jumped by a bunch of Ivy’s minions.” “That’s not supposed to happen.”

“Don’t beat yourself up over it. We all have bad nights Y/N/N.” Jason softly kissed your lips, earning another, more satisfied sigh from you.

“I guess.” You weren’t going to argue with him after that.

“Besides, we got the venom shipment covered now.” He tried to assure you, “Don’t worry about anything.”

“I don’t think I have the energy to worry.”

Jason chuckled, grabbing a new towel to dry your air as carefully as possible.

“I’ve got to go to the bathroom now.” You said, sitting up.

Jason nodded, lifting you out of the tub again and into the little room with the toilet. Closing the door after handing you a pair of his sweatpants, he started cleaning up. You walked back out, hair still dripping on the floor.

“Come here love.” He said, pulling you into a tight, yet soft embrace and kissing the top of your head.

Wrapping his arms around you again, he sat you onto the counter and opened the bottle of toner that you kept on your side of the sink. He helped you pull one of his old t shirts over your head and smoothed it out once you had it on.

“You don’t have to do that Jay.” You said, hands softly gripping against his free wrist.

“It’s okay doll, I want to.” “Just let me take care of you.”

A soft cotton pad glided against your face as he swept the toner over your skin. After that, he slathered your other skincare products across your face, following the routine he knew you used. Your heart swelled knowing that he had memorized something so seemingly unimportant. It meant a lot that he cared so much to understand you.

“Let’s get you to bed.” Once again, he wrapped his arms around you to pick you up.

“I can walk there.” You said, grabbing onto his arms for support.

“I know you can baby but let me do it for you.”

Jason carried you to the bed and set you under the covers, pulling them over your shoulders and sliding in behind you. Arms settled around you as you pushed yourself into his chest, taking in the warmth and comfort that he provided.

“I’m glad you’re okay Y/N.” He said, “Wake me up if you need anything. I love you Y/N/N.”

You mumbled a response under your breath, the feeling of safety and comfort flushing out any troubles or worries you carried with you from the mission.

#dc x reader #dc comics #dc characters #batfam x reader #batboys x reader #jason todd x reader #jason todd x reader fluff #jason todd x you #jason todd fluff #jason todd imagine #red hood x you #red hood x reader #red hood x y/n #red hood fluff #red hood imagine

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kitkats-and-kittens · 2 months

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I know Dc has always proclaimed Tim Drake as the best detective and the smartest Robin and he is. By conventional measurements he is the best detective and he’s very smart but I wish they would acknowledge that each Robin is incredibly smart in their own way.

Dick Grayson is a master manipulator. He’s a genius when it comes to reading people and honestly whenever I need to write young him in fanfiction I literally just do Missy for Sheldon.

He’s smart. Book smart, but also people smart and people need to acknowledge this more it pains me to see DC forget this in exchange for a far more fannon. Far less complex version of him. He’s smart! Let him be smart.

Jason Todd is also book smart, though less mathematics and science and more classical literature. That man knows his way around the collections of Fyodor Dostoyevsky and that’s not even mentioning his street smarts.

He may not be the best conventional detective but he knows how to distinguish different gangs and their territories. He knows where dealers like to run their shops and he knows when a crime is too messy to have been caused by any of the rogues in the area.

Stephanie of course is a mix of the two. She’s good with people and she’s good on the streets but she’s also for very obvious reasons amazing at puzzles. Any tricky, seemingly impossible sort of quiz she’s got it, which is especially useful when the criminals of Gotham enjoy sending their hero’s on a wild goose chase.

She’s incredibly good at seeing through riddles and word vomit and she’s an amazing detective in her own right which should be used more.

Cass has been proven to be a great detective on so many occasions and of course do we even have to mention how adept she is at reading body language?

Her knowledge of combat is obviously unmatched and I’d love to see comics take this and apply it to her detective skills. How cool would it be for her to analyse a corpse and tell the fighting style of the assailant just by noting where on the body the strikes landed?

Realistic? No, but this is comics. Let me have my fun.

Damian was obviously trained in a dozen forms of martial arts, but he’s obviously knowledgeable about other things. The LoA are eco terrorists. You’re telling me that kid doesn’t know plants?

And that’s not even mentioning his knowledge of weapons and how he knows the ins and outs of organised crimes after living surrounded by it for a decade.

Plus his undercover skills.

Duke is new to me so I don’t know as much about him, but like Jason and Steph he grew up in the narrows and was part of gang, plus he apparently survived the riddler at like age 7 (pls don’t quote me on this I know practically nothing about zero year). So I can assume he’s incredibly intelligent. Street smarts! Also his powers let him look into the past which as evidenced in WFA can be used to help solve crimes.

Like I don’t want them to be conventional detectives. Let Tim be the Sherlock Holmes of the family. He’s already shown to be very observant.

I want to see more of the batfam using their own unique skill sets to solve crimes. They’re all good detectives they just have different ways of solving crimes.

Pls Dc, they would look so cool. If WFA can do it so can you! 😭😭

#batfam #dc #dc comics #batman #dick grayson #jason todd #stephanie brown #cassandra cain #damian wayne #duke thomas #they’re all so smart #but DC barely acknowledges that #if you have any evidence of them doing so however please send it to me #I’m actually begging you I’m so starved for content of my favs getting to show of their big brains #Robin #look they’re all autistic let them blab about their special interest

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heavysighing-dreamyeyes · 2 months

Note

hihihi!!!! i loveee the way u write angst!!!! could i please request a reader taking a fatal blow for jason? like some self sacrifice where reader protects jay? ahhh i just imagine the desperation and him running himself ragged to save reader before it ends with comfort!! thanks soso much! i hope u have a great week🩷

Set In Place

Hi, nonnie! Thank you, hope you enjoy! ~1.7k words

Slight miscommunication, but it's in the way they don't know how to talk to each other about feelings.

You weren't always a vigilante. You never planned on it, never wanted it. But when Jason Todd died you couldn't sit still, couldn't do nothing while the monsters that caused you to lose your best friend, your boyfriend, your first love, ran rampant.

You trained and trained until you were a shell of yourself. Until you and Bruce were both on a warpath that would only end with two more graves.

That was, until Tim came into your lives. Things got better, not much, but better. You learned to smile again, learned to soften your edges when you talked to the growing number of vigilantes patrolling Gotham's streets.

It scared you, sometimes, seeing kids no older than him fly around in the colors he died in. So you worked harder, got better, swore with everything you were and wouldn't be again that there will never be another dead Robin.

And then he came back. Jason– Red Hood, he called himself. It sends your world into a tailspin. You watch him become Gotham's most feared crime lord, you watch him leave all of that behind to become a hero. You watch as he slowly finds his place alongside his family.

You're just not exactly sure of what his place with you is. You patrol with him, you work with him. It's an awkward, unpracticed partnership, and you're sure he feels the same. You've told Bruce you don't want to work with Jason time and time again.

It's not that you don't miss him, don't feel envy at how easily he seemed to fall back into a routine with everyone else, it's just hard.

Hard when you catch him staring.

You know you must be unrecognizable to him, no longer the younger, civilian version of you. Hardened by the horrors of Gotham, scarred and calloused hands where skin used to be soft.

Bruce apparently didn't care about your complaints, because you find yourself on patrol with Red Hood more often than not. It's the same tonight, the two of you paired up to stake out some warehouse expecting a gun shipment for Falcone.

You can't help but watch him from the corner of your eye, he's different too, now. Bigger, sturdier, and willing to kill. A part of you wishes you had the courage to tell him that it doesn't make you hate him. That you miss him, and that nothing can change that part of your heart that's always been his.

You're tugged from your own thoughts when you see the familiar glint of a sniper rifle across the street. Your heart skips a beat and you're moving before you've even really connected that there's a gun.

You slam into Jason, a shot is fired. Pain blooms in your side as you both hit the ground.

Everything was different when Jason came back. It took a long time to settle, to try to find himself, to try to find his place in a family he doesn't know, a Gotham that's not quite what he remembers.

But he adapted, he carved out a place for himself that's undeniably his. He's really only left with one uncertainty, one place he doesn't know how to fit into.

You. His best friend, his childhood sweetheart, his first love. You're different now, but he is too, and he wants that to be okay.

Jason just doesn't know how to get to okay. He catches you watching him, he wonders what you see now. If you recognize the boy he used to be in what he is now. He can't help but watch you too. You're strong, brave, selfless and so, so beautiful. He's amazed about how much you've accomplished, how many lives you saved.

It's why he keeps telling Bruce to put him on patrol with you. It's worth the looks he gets if it means a chance to talk to you. He's currently trying to figure out the best way to get your attention during this boring stakeout. Should he ask what you've been up to? No, too general. If you're liking the weather? Ha, no. It's Gotham, that's stupid. The weather is bad.

If you have a partner? Oh, he definitely doesn't want to know that answer right now. He'd very much just like to be able to talk to you first.

Did you miss him as much as he missed you? Do you still love him like he still loves you?

He opens his mouth to speak, not having a plan but anything is better than silence, when you slam into him, crashing you both to the ground. The air leaves his lungs when he makes contact with the concrete, instinctively wrapping an arm around your waist and cradling your head to cushion the fall.

"Hey, what–" He starts, voice failing when wetness starts to seep into his gloves. You're bleeding. You're bleeding. You're shot. You're hurt because you saved him.

He's only able to react on the years of skill and training ingrained into his bones. Get you off of him and on the ground. Remove armor. Pressure on the wound. Where's the shooter? His eyes dart, he doesn't see anyone. Doesn't see who did this to you.

"Oracle," he chokes out "They're hurt, gun shot. It's bad. I need- we need an evac." He's tugging off his jacket, more material to slow the blood flow, something to keep you warm.

"Hey," You're reaching up to touch his arm with shaky hands, you sound relieved, "You're okay."

He tears up behind his helmet. It's not fair, not right that you're trying to comfort him when you're bleeding out on some forsaken Gotham rooftop. He vaguely hears the voices coming through the comlink, that help is coming, that he needs to tell them what's going on.

But, he can't respond to them, too focused on you, the way you seem to be getting weaker with each passing second. He's panicking, his breathing is shallow and fast as he tries to keep you alive.

"Why did you do that? Why did you do that?" He asks, trying to keep it together, but it's impossible when all he wants to do is scream and cry and hunt down whoever shot you.

You just offer a frail smile. "Glad you're safe, Jason," You murmur, words getting more slurred and quiet with each passing moment. He checks your pulse. It's getting too slow.

"Stay awake, stay with me," He begs, words fraying as he sobs your name, "please."

Something touches his shoulder, he has his gun pulled and pointed before he bothers to see who it is, face curled into a snarl behind his helmet.

"Woah there, Jason." Nightwing. His hands are raised, "we're going to help them, okay?"

Batman sweeps past him, crouching down at your side to pick you up. Jason launches forward, panicked and unable to think straight as he barks, "Don't touch them!"

Nightwing hauls him back as Batman carries them, his person, to the plane. "No, no, no, please. I need to be there. I need to. It's my fault!"

"I know, I know, it's not your fault, we're going too. C'mon." Nightwing soothes, letting go of him. Jason's on Batman's heels immediately, gaze locked on you, how your eyes keep sliding shut.

"The shooter–" He starts, anger building behind the guilt and panic.

"Spoiler and Robin have it handled." Batman tells him. Jason nods weakly and when Batman carefully sets you down in the plane, he takes your hand. Nightwing starts working over your wound, you barely make a sound in reaction to the pain.

"Stay awake. Don't go." He murmurs, begging, as he squeezes your fingers. He nearly sobs again when you offer him a feeble one in return.

Everything hurts. Which makes sense, you did get shot. It doesn't really bother you, at least not right now, not when Jason's holding your hand, his fingers resting over the steady beat of your pulse on your wrist.

You're not exactly sure how long you were passed out, but it was long enough that they got you into the medbay in the Batcave, stitched you up, and got you into a bed. Long enough that Jason's fallen asleep in the chair next to your bed, his head resting on top of the sheets by your hip.

You only hesitate for a second before reaching over to brush his hair back with your free hand. He's pretty when he's sleeping, but then again he's always pretty.

His eyes snap open and you draw your hand back. "Sorry, didn't mean to wake you up, Jason."

He sits up quickly, eyes darting over you, "Don't be. Are you okay? How are you feeling? Does anything hurt?" He hasn't let go of your hand.

"I'm okay." You promise, because you are. He didn't get hurt. He's here, and that makes everything okay.

He exhales shakily, studying you, "You shouldn't have done that."

You shrug, "Maybe, but you would have done the same thing." You know it's the truth, even if what's between you isn't the same, he's good. Always so good.

He frowns and runs his thumb over your knuckles, lost in thought, he can’t find the words to refute you, to make you understand what you did was wrong. "Do you– can I get you anything?"

You smile at him, teasing, trying to lighten the look on his face, "What? You gonna be my personal maid till I can get outta bed?"

You're surprised at how earnestly he nods, "Yeah, of course. Whatever you need, just let me know."

You blink at him and take a risk, "Maybe you could keep me company for a while? Not much to do in medbay," You ask tentatively, unable to ignore a real chance at being something– anything– with him.

Warmth blooms in your chest at the way he smiles at your question. It surprises you again, how thrilled your question seems to make him.

If you only knew what he was thinking now, how much he's been trying to find this moment that brings you two back into each other's lives, and the guilt he feels that it took you getting hurt to find it. "I'd like that," he tells you.

You squeeze his hand, and he looks down, as if he forgot he was even holding it. It feels right, familiar, something that used to be found again.

"I'd like that too." You say softly. It makes the two of you grin like two idiots in love.

You'll both figure out you are, eventually, but in this tender moment, it's a sweet solace to have found a place next to each other again.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd #x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #red hood x reader

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zyafics · 13 days

Text

BEFORE DAWN | Jason Todd

MASTERLIST (oneshot) | x Ex!Female Reader .ᐟ

Summary — Jason suffers from a failed mission and needs you. Word Count — 3.0k.

Content — angst, hurt/no comfort.

Zya's Notes — this is my first time writing Jason, bear with me.

Loss is a frequent echo in Jason's life.

Weighted to the depth of his soul, anchored by his part. Since his birth, nothing but the blanket of death envelops his life—from his mother, to his time with the Joker, to the Lazarus pit that brought his resurrection. Because even if it did bring him back to life, the innocence behind his eyes was gone.

You've always known this. From the very first day you met him, Jason warned you he was damaged. At first, you assumed it to be a precaution he gave all his lovers because he didn't see himself as something worth loving. Some of that remains accurate. However, over time, you learned more about his secrets and tales and discovered his statement wasn't an exaggeration.

Because it's easy to love Jason Todd.

But it's just as easy to hate him.

Kicking off his boots, Jason steps inside his apartment and disengages his helmet from his head. He sets the red mask on his shelf, maneuvering to his cabinets in search for the hardest liquors in stock.

Tonight had been a rough mission. Despite the countless lives he saved, he still couldn't rescue a child from the massacre. All he remembers is the piercing screams, the little girl's pleas for help, his hushed reassurances that he's almost there.

But he wasn't. All there was left was silence.

Jason uncaps the glass and swallows a large gulp, moving to his bedroom. He lands on his bed with a thump, a groan slipping through gritted teeth from the pain.

There had been phone calls and pings from the Batcave, where he was sure the rest of the family had found surveillance of his gruesome mission, but he didn't have the energy to answer. Louder than the rest, he hears the moronic ringtone Dick set for his number playing on a loop, like an irritating itch that refuses to die down. Ignoring them all, Jason drinks from his bottle until there's nothing but droplets left.

That's when he hears a shy creak from the front door.

His body hums with heightened nerves, not easily seduced by the copious quantities of bitter alcohol Jason tried to force down his throat. He highlights every sound echoing through his empty apartment—the leisure clicks of heels against hardwood, calculating the distance it travels—and by the time his bedroom door cracks open, you peek through.

At first, he thought he'd imagined you. That happens. A side effect of the Lazarus pit, Jason managed to control it after years of training—to distinguish between what's real and not. But it comes back on occasion. However, nothing was worse than the episode months after you broke up with Jason.

"Hi, Jay."

Jason blinks. His hallucinations never spoke. They always observed and trailed after him as a figment of his imagination, a shadow from the corner of his peripheral. But they always remained silent. Taunting, even.

That's how he knows this is real. You're really here.

He should feel a cool sense of relief wash over him. It's been months of anguish and grief from missing you and wanting you back. It didn't matter that the breakup shattered him, he knew that if he saw you again, he would welcome you back with open arms.

But none of that arrives. All that came is hurt.

"What are you doing here?" He rasps, and despite his attempt at keeping his hostility at bay, they seep out like spits of venom.

You flinch, gripping the doorknob tighter as you resist the urge to run. "Dick called me."

He huffs, "Dick's always in my business."

"Maybe it's because he cares about you."

"If he cared about me, he would've been here."

Jason's words weren't aimed at his older brother. It's a direct shot to your chest, but Jason doesn't have a speck of remorse. His eyes are bloodshot, making his irises glow, and his expression hardens into sharp lines. You'd told Dick this was a bad idea, that Jason would want nothing to do with you, but the eldest refuted that you're the only one he would be willing to listen to.

Perhaps, once upon a time. But not now.

It's easy for you to leave, turn your heel, and exit the apartment complex without another exchange. But you don't. It's only been a few months since you last saw Jason, but you can't pretend that you don't miss him. Don't long for him every night. Don't check the news and headlines for any articles regarding Red Hood and his nefarious activities after dark.

Pushing the door wider, you step into the familiar bedroom and approach Jason, each step feels heavier than the last. He eyes you carefully as if you're prey entering a trap, and you grab the bottle clung to his chest before looking at the empty content.

His hooded gaze raises, "Didn't know I was supposed to share."

You scoff, but your shoulders loosen slightly. You set the bottle down on his nightstand, grabbing his muscular arm and hauling him up from the mattress, with difficulty because of the weight of his gear. Like a practiced choreography, you unlatch his belt, to the straps around his pecs, and unload them to the closet where it's stashed for the next day.

Jason says nothing as you return to the space before him, making a conscious choice to not meet his stare. You're surprised by his lack of resistance, especially as you drag him to the nearby bathroom, flicking the light on, and setting him in front of the sink counter.

When you pull out the aid kit from under the cabinets, Jason finally breaks the unbearable silence. "You remembered."

Your breathing lulls and you sink in the memories of the past. Long nights of patching Jason up, after his encounters with criminals and felons—the whips of clashing blades and the graze of bullets on skin. You even took a medical course at Gotham College to better equip yourself on how to take care of your boyfriend.

Well, ex.

"How could I forget?" Your voice is quiet, almost indistinguishable, but Jason clings to every little word. "I was the one restocking it."

"Do you remember your training?"

"Of course I do," you say. "They don't give out As for anybody."

A faint smile breaks out across Jason's face, even if he didn't want it to, and you lift your head to discover the easygoing expression. You return with your own grin, and a moment, suspended in time, there's a place where you forget the broken status of your relationship.

Despite the rough exterior Jason tries to exert, attempting to hold you at arm's length, his eyes soften upon meeting yours, tracing your features as a way to drink you in after months of agony and separation. They linger on your lips for a moment longer than necessary, wondering if they still taste the same as before.

But as quickly as it came, it left. Jason turns away, curling his hands into fists, his jaw sharpening by the grind of his teeth. Remnants of his anger remain, pulsing, eruptive, and targeted at you. It dulls with every passing moment in your presence, but it isn't fair. You can't return exactly as you were as if you didn't add to his misery.

"Jason?"

"Just finish up," he snaps, stonewalling his emotions to keep himself safe. "I don't have all night."

You sigh. Unraveling the roll of gauze, you examine the cuts and bruises on his shoulders and forearms. It isn't too bad. Jason has always been good at protecting himself—and you—so you believed the blood soaking his shirt was mostly his opponents rather than his.

When you grab the isopropyl alcohol, the can is light. "It's empty," you murmur, setting the gauze back in the kit. Jason glances at the bottle in your hands.

"It's—"

"I know," you mumble with a nod, slipping out of the suffocating bathroom before clinically moving through your old apartment, and finding another bottle behind one of his doors. When you're about to return, you catch a whiff of lavender in the air and freeze, searching the room to find a lit candle sitting on the island in his kitchen.

Your expression softens, admiring the glass filled with wax before you make your way back to the bathroom. Jason's attention is set on your phone sitting on the counter's edge.

"Someone texted you," Jason informs, his arms crossed against his chest as his gaze drifts to your face.

"Oh," you set the bottle down as you pick up your phone, reading the message.

Jason studies your expression, wondering who it could be. He didn't check out of respect for your privacy, and he's holding his tongue from asking, but a curious thought pounds at the edge of his mind. Did you move on? He couldn't resist by then. "Who is it?"

"Tim," you answer, setting the screen face-down on the countertop. "Also, Damian. He says to 'get some rest, Todd,' and that you still owe him a match tomorrow morning."

You punctuate your sentence with a soft smile, hoping to simulate the feelings from before, but Jason doesn't return the gesture. His Adam's apple bobs in his throat, and a sting surges through his veins. "Didn't know you still kept in contact with my brothers."

"Didn't know you still kept the candle."

If Jason was surprised by your response, he doesn't reveal it. He leans against the edge of the sink, the porcelain digging into his spine as his arms remain crossed over his chest. "You were right. The aroma covers the smell of blood."

Your lips curve with surprise, your eyes brightening from his admission. "I was right?"

"Don't let it get into your head."

"I wanna hear it again."

He says your name as a scold, but you merely beam from his words. There were some suggestions you gave Jason when you lived with him—making his place less James Bond and more homey. Before you came, he tracked grim and mud into the living area, wafted a tingeing scent of copper, and covered the entire apartment in weaponry and computers. You adjusted some things, but they were accepted with reluctance, and you hadn't expect Jason to keep any when you left.

Jason mirrors a gentle smile on his face as he watches the excitement radiate from you, reminding him of an easier time. That's how the start of your relationship felt—giddily, charming, and loveable.

"Your turn," Jason declares, uncrossing his arms and returning them to his side.

"There's not much to say." You admit somberly. "I keep in touch to make sure everything's okay."

"With everyone?"

"Dick, Tim, Damian..." You trail off, contemplating adding the last member. "And Bruce."

You study Jason's face as he absorbs the information, but nothing helps you identify his emotions. That's one of the difficult things about being with Jason. He never reveals his true emotions to you, always making you guess his thoughts. He doesn't tell you when he's hurt, or angry, or happy, because he keeps it all to himself.

At first, it didn't bother you, because you knew he didn't trust easily. But, sometimes, it feels like he didn't trust you at all.

You can't bring yourself to ask, to beg him to talk, so you go back to helping him with his wounds. In the silence, you clean the cuts, layering a thin layer of ointment cream over the scars, and bandage him up. By the time you're done, Jason remains as quiet as he was before.

That's truly all Dick asked you to do. He couldn't get into contact with Jason, and knowing an unannounced visit from Nightwing would do nothing but provoke an argument, he thought to ask you to check-in. To make sure he isn't beating himself up over the loss in his mission.

You didn't have to clean him up. Take off his gears. Make sure he isn't hurt. But you did.

As you make your way out of the bathroom, you glance at the exit. Jason can return to his bed on his own two feet, and as you're about to bid a polite farewell, Jason cuts you off.

"Why didn't you ever check up on me?"

The question startles you. Turning to see him exit from the bathroom, Jason stops a couple feet away from the bed, keeping a safe distance from you. His gaze never wavers.

"Jason..." You swallow a bile forming in your throat. You didn't want to give him some pseudo-bullshit to comfort him. He has always appreciated the truth. "We were broken up."

He huffs, "Which was something I didn't want."

"I know."

"It destroyed me,"

"I know,"

"I needed you," he confesses with such rawness, you can't help but falter from the sound. Your hands clench into fists by your side, nails digging into your palms to ease the ache in your chest.

"I..." You stammer. "It was hard for me. Being your girlfriend."

The good has always been good; euphoric and phenomenal. But the bad had been bad; miserable and troublesome. You couldn't handle the whiplash of emotions, of being pulled to absolute highs one night to being dragged to complete lows. It was too much for your little heart.

"I love you, and I'll always will, but I just... It was hard."

Jason stares at you, and behind his strong demeanor, something cracks behind the armor. He swallows thickly, his mind running a hundred miles an hour trying to rationalize your confession. "Did you... did you move on?"

"Jay..."

"No, I don't want that," he asserts, despite knowing a positive answer would wreck him, "I want to hear it. Was it easy to forget about me?"

"Jason, please," you beg, throbbing pain eliciting from your clenched palms as tears crowd your vision. "It took everything of me to step inside your apartment. To see you. When Dick called me, I truly didn't want to go, but he said you needed me."

His breathing slows. Pieces forming together. "And you came."

You nod once. "And I came."

He says nothing, his chest rising and falling with unsteady beats, and you can't help but take this as an opportunity to bid a formal farewell. You can't take it. But just before you can take two steps towards the bedroom door, Jason calls out with a rough voice. "Stay."

It takes everything of him to say that. Vulnerability seeps into the very crevices of his words, to his dark eyes, waiting for your answer—waiting for you to deny him. "I'm... I'm not asking for anything else. I don't expect anything. But I need you tonight."

Your eyes soften. You know how hard is for Jason to talk about his emotions, about his needs. You know it isn't good for you, every rational bone in your body telling you to leave, but you resist against them. Extending your hand, Jason doesn't hesitate to take it into his palm, pulling you into the bed.

It's so easy. You slip under the covers, crawling over to Jason's side as you lay your head on his chest, laminating the irregular beats of his heart. His arm settles around your waist, brushing against your thin tee, in an act so endearing, so natural, it's almost forgotten that this is the first intimate touch in months.

It hurts to be around Jason. To remember the good times. To recount the worst. His breathing remains unsteady—not because there's any damage to his lungs, but because that too is a side effect of the Lazarus pit. When you first dated him, you thought every night's rest was his last.

It causes you to tighten your grip around his torso, needing to keep him real. Alive. Your breathing becomes steady when you feel his hand glide over your skin in soothing strokes.

"I thought you hated me," Jason admits after a long stretch of silence.

"I could never hate you," you whisper. "That's not possible."

"You left me."

You don't answer that. Abandonment can be constituted as hate in Jason's world and there's nothing you can say to make him believe differently. Lifting your head from his chest, your eyes wash over his relaxed features. The fluff of white hair in the mass of dark roots, the gentle slope of his cheekbones, jaw, and the crooked outline of his nose. It's as if you're trying to commit to memory all the changes that have happened since you've been gone.

"I'm here now."

Jason nods and you return back to your previous position. It's always been difficult for him to find his slumber, but he manages to find it easy with your presence.

But as he falls asleep, you can't seem to follow him. For a moment, you wonder why everything was such a problem. Why couldn't you have stayed in this relationship if the both of you brought to each other a sense of peace no one else can encapsulate? But, then you remember.

It's the mornings. The morning after every bad mission, every disaster under the domain of Red Hood. Jason would return to the streets, becoming more reckless, vicious, and death-prone than ever before to make up for the loss he had the previous night.

And it killed you. Sitting in this apartment, obsessively checking for any articles about how Red Hood finally struck his last time. Even though Jason may have been raised from the dead, given the opportunity of a second chance, he lives his life as if it's his first.

Jason goes out into the world believing he's invincible. And maybe he is. Maybe he can beat death once again. And again. And again. But you can't sit around and watch. Because every night, every day spent wondering if he is hurt, if whether he's going to walk through the front door, kills you.

So, by morning, when the sun filters through his blinds and a warm ray lands on Jason's scarred and healing skin, his muscles throbs with pain, and his head pounding with a mild case of hangover, he slowly opens his eyes one by one.

And he remembers. He remembers everything the night before. How you came. How you stayed. And when his hand drifts to the place on his chest, to find any remnant of you, he discovers nothing but the wisps of air.

Because before dawn, you're gone.

#jason todd #red hood #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood x y/n #jason todd angst #red hood angst #jason todd x female reader #red hood x female reader #dc comics x reader #dc comics x you #dc comics #dc fanfic #dc comics fanfiction

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blu3n · 1 month

Text

By: @blu3n

Anon : blue hi 👋, could you make a short story where Jason and the reader argue?, at the birthday party, I want some angst and fluff at the end, I hope you understand kisses.

YES YES YES YES, THANK YOU!!! 🪼

edited.

Bad luck ๋ ࣭ ⭑ Jason todd x female reader

Synopsis: angst, cute at the end, this one is sad ๋ ࣭ ⭑ you and jason argue, I've never actually done one of those

— edit: @blu3n.

The rain fell heavily on Gotham, as if the city was mourning the return of a lost son. Jason Todd, now known as the Red Hood, walked through the dark streets, the echoes of his old life still echoing in his mind. He had been through so much; betrayal, pain, and a violent rebirth at the hands of the Joker.

The last few months have been tough, Penguin giving him trouble, malice, Cat Woman and the Batfamily on his tail all the time. Bandits and missions stressing him out.

His weapons failing in the middle of combat, it seemed like bad luck was with him in those last few days. To make the headache worse, his 4-year anniversary was coming up.

He was never one to celebrate or care about stupid holidays, birthdays or important dates, but if it was important to you, he celebrated. But fuck. Today you were annoying.

Exactly the day he barely managed to capture the Riddler. It felt like they had thrown years of bad luck at him, he didn't believe that shit, but now he was starting to think so.

He was working out, lifting arm weights (sorry, I don't know what it's called) while training his biceps, his mind was racing with the events of the day, Dick pissing him off for being harsh with one of the evil henchmen, leaving the guy almost paraplegic.

focused in his mind, he didn't hear your footsteps, when you approached him, you could tell he was focused, but you didn't seem to notice how angry he looked.

"What do you think? Pink or red?" Her cheerful voice made him feel bad for being grumpy for the party he had tonight. Looking at you and your dresses, he sighs, barely holding back a groan of annoyance when he sees you flaunting the dresses once again, "whatever, fuck" coming out harsher than he intended. He knew it wasn't his fault that everything was going wrong, but he couldn't help but feel angry.

"Oh yeah..." His voice sounded so broken and so short, but you respected him. You knew he did that sometimes, but not on purpose. "I'm gonna...go get changed." All he heard was a low growl before he walked out of the training bag leaving you alone.

It wasn't because he wanted to, sometimes Jason knew he could be an asshole but everything seemed to be going wrong, he didn't want to take it out on you but you didn't seem to see the clear signs that he didn't want to be around.

everything gets worse at the party, the attention was focused on you two all jason wanted least was for the attention to be on him that night just when he wanted to simply disappear and stay at home, but he stayed, he stayed for you, it was important to you so that means he should be there, right?

He was trying, God he swears he was but that, those people were suffocating him. He needed to go out for a smoke.

Once outside, it was cold, the cigarette smoke swayed and disappeared in the wind... everything seemed calmer and more peaceful on this side.

"Jason?" Your voice echoes behind him, making him turn and look at you, "Ah... aren't you coming back?" All you wanted was for him to stay with you that night, to stay just a little while to celebrate your important day. in his mind it was being an incredible night

"If I want to go, I will, stop bothering my ass," he says in a thick, firm voice, already close to exploding if you push him any further.

"Excuse me? Look at the way you talk to me, Jason, I just want to celebrate our night together as a couple-"

"CAN'T YOU REALIZE I DON'T WANT TO CELEBRATE THIS SHIT!?" Jason was never one to yell at you even if he had reason to do so he would never do so, but today he yelled which scared you just a little bit , he didn't mean to do that.. His anger bubbled, his chest heaved, he wished he hadn't done that.

"ah..." even though you try to say something your voice betrays you leaving only silence bad to fall into this situation.

Jason, when he finally regained his senses, was silent, he took out his anger on the one person he wished he hadn't done it to. "....Y/n" came out as broken as he wanted it to in desperation he said "Y/N, please wait, I- I didn't mean to

Jason in turn was in panic, would you leave him? were you mad? god, did he lose you? no after 4 years would you leave him for this? no god please don't do this to him.

Jason, you in the distance, almost felt his chest stop beating, he didn't want to do this, "I'm sorry", he covered his face with his hand to keep from letting out angry tears, everything was going wrong. Jason saw her reaction and almost felt his chest stop beating, he didn't want to do this, "I'm sorry" he covers his face with his hand to keep from letting out angry tears, everything was going wrong. "Don't walk away from me" he says with a broken voice, even knowing that you weren't there, he would give you some time, but not so much, for you to see how bad he was (in your mind). his mind).

You, in turn, were sitting at one of the tables in the distance, watching everyone laughing and smiling, even though it was your day... maybe you really were annoying to the point of pressuring Jason... maybe you weren't good for him? What were you thinking? He loves you... doesn't he?.

"Y/n-" the tone of his voice made you look where it came from, seeing Jason standing in front of you, his eyes red and his brow furrowed. "babe?"

"Shhh, "It's okay" you say looking at him wiping your eyes from the tear stains as you hear him say that he didn't mean to say what he said, and you had already forgiven him after all it wasn't his fault.

"...i love you, i love you, i love you" he says softly just for you to hear, directing your face into the curve of his neck.

That brought a genuine smile out of you, you quickly pull him up, hugging him fully before whispering in his ear, "I love you too, congratulations to us"

both of their chests pressed against each other as their heartbeats beat together.

—

THANKS FOR ASKING!!!

🪼 - I love writing about him

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slut4thebroken · 1 year

Text

sex pollen

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Jason Todd × vigilante!reader

Summary | You tried to help Jason when something went wrong on patrol, but it didn’t go the way you thought it would.

Warnings | Sexual content, 18+, unprotected sex, breeding, non consensual sex technically, cause he doesn’t know she likes it, multiple orgasms, ruined orgasms, public sex, rough sex, sex pollen, I want him to rail me like this tbh, angst, fluff.

Words | 3.6k

Notes | Finally posting the fic from this post hehe. If anyone mentions how the quality gets worse after the smut ends, I’ll cry. That’s a threat. (Also imagine that gif is him pinning you against a wall lmao)

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

“Jason?” You gasped as he used his body to press you against the dirty alley wall. Even through the suit his bulge was obvious. His helmet had been previously discarded and you shivered at the feeling of his breath against your lips.

“Jason, what the hell are you doing?” You all but whimpered, making him growl and place a hand on your neck.

“Stop fucking saying my name like that.” He hissed, pushing his hips harder into yours. Your breath hitched at the wild look in his eyes, the color almost completely gone. He squeezed his eyes shut and tightened his grip on your neck. The groan he released sounded pained and you wished you knew what was happening so you could help him. Suddenly ripping himself away from you, his hands went to his hair, pulling on the ends as he let out another pained moan.

“Tell me what’s wrong. Tell me how to help.” You said softly, pushing yourself off the wall to grab his hands and remove them from his hair. He flinched away from your grip and took a step back.

“Go.” He muttered, not looking at you.

“What?”

“Go! I can’t- You…” His chest heaved as he tugged on his hair again. “You have to leave.” He gritted.

“I’m not leaving you like this.”

“I can’t control it! Please-” He cried.

“Control what?” You took another step toward him and placed your hand on his cheek. His eyes snapped open and he roughly grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand off of his face. You stared at him in shock, not used to this behavior, and he squeezed his eyes shut as his grip tightened around your wrist, making you wince. When he opened them again, they were significantly darker.

All of a sudden, he was doing a move he’s done to you a couple times during training, and you were flat on the floor in seconds. He turned you onto your stomach, then straddled your thighs, not being able to control the way his hips bucked forward, pushing his crotch against your ass.

“Jason, what-“ As you tried to push yourself up, a strong hand pressed between your shoulder blades, forcing you back down with a grunt. He was rutting against your ass intentionally now, growling at the friction and pushing down on your back harder to make sure you couldn’t wriggle free. You could feel arousal pooling in your stomach from his behavior, not used to this side of him yet.

You’ve been dating for a while now and while you are sexually active, so far you both have kept it pretty vanilla. You were scared he’d think you were disgusting or weird so you never talked about it. You only mentioned the more tame things like light bondage or choking, choosing to limit the hard kinks to your fantasies for when you’re alone.

He quickly grew impatient and removed his hand as he shuffled down your legs just enough to have access to your ass. He took the skin tight fabric of your suit in both hands and ripped it apart, opening the entire crotch area. You let out a choked gasp that turned into a moan when he did the same thing with your underwear, ripping them in half so he had complete access.

“Jason, what are you-“ A hand was on the back of your neck now, squeezing the sides and forcing your cheek into the dirty pavement. But you understood that it was a warning, so you stayed quiet, listening to fabric rustling behind you until you felt the blunt head of his cock against your folds. He didn’t bother teasing you like he normally would before breaching your hole with a low groan. You cried out, scrambling for purchase on the floor beneath you, struggling to adjust to his size without the usual amount of prep, despite how wet you were. But he paid no mind to it as he started rutting against you in shallow thrusts.

“Fuck- I’m sorry,” He said through a moan. “I’m sorry, baby, I can’t help it- I just need this- need you.” He whined, desperately bucking his hips into you as he held you down.

You tried to relax your body and not tense up around him, but the stretch burned almost painfully and you couldn’t help it. You just had to wait until you became aroused enough to loosen up a little. It didn’t seem like that would take long though- he’s always managed to hit the perfect spot inside you with little effort. Your clit throbbed desperately for stimulation but you couldn’t fit a hand between your body and the ground with him pinning you down.

His thrusts became more frenzied and erratic as he neared his orgasm, far sooner than normal, and part of you didn’t want it to be over yet but another part was glad your burning hole would get relief from the stretch soon.

His thrusts slowed and he fucked you uncomfortably deep, pushing up against your cervix as hot come filled you up. You let out a low whine, listening to his moans and whimpers.

“Jay?” You asked quietly, when he didn’t move or speak for a moment. You felt his cock twitch inside of you and he took a deep breath before dragging out and tentatively pushing back in. He cursed under his breath and picked up the pace, resuming the speed of his thrusts. You let out a choked sound in surprise and he moaned quietly, speeding up even more.

“Fuck- I know. I’m sorry.” He replied to your strained whimpers. “It's not enough… It- it still hurts, baby, I’m sorry. Just a little more.” He whined.

As he grew even needier, he started a brutal pace, slamming his hips against your ass with each thrust. His come made an obscene squelching sound as his cock forced it out of you, some falling down to your clit and some spattering onto the ground between your legs.

You could feel yourself nearing an orgasm and you tried to force a hand under your body, but let out a whimper when you were unsuccessful.

“Jay,” You sobbed, making him let out a choked moan.

“Oh fuck- fuck your cunt is squeezing me so tight. You close, baby?” He moaned breathlessly and you nodded.

“Jay, please.” You cried out. Despite his acknowledgment of your current state, he made no move to do anything else to get you there. He just moaned in response and fucked you harder, slamming into you almost painfully as he chased his second orgasm. His thrusts barely slowed as he came again, painting your fluttering walls with his seed. When he picked up the pace again, you let out a long needy whine, cunt aching for release.

He seemed to grow only a little fatigued as he released your neck and completely laid over you, rutting into you desperately and moaning against your ear.

“God- you feel so fucking good.” He moaned, rolling his hips and grinding against you. “Fuck.” He choked out, leaning up just enough to put you on your elbows so he could pull the zipper of your suit down to your stomach, freeing your breasts. He squeezed them roughly, making your breath hitch, but it was nothing compared to the treatment your nipples received. Desperate fingers worked them over- twisting and pinching them painfully, making sure to use his nails. When you cried out in pain, walls spasming around his length, he came again, lazily rutting into you to get the most out of his orgasm.

“One more,” He gasped out. “Just need one more, baby, I promise.” He huffed, breath fanning your neck, making you shiver. He released your breasts then, more gently this time, pushed you down by your back, using it as leverage to fuck you faster and harder. The ground was rough against your sensitive nipples, making you hiss in pain but still clench around him.

You were dangling over the edge with how close you were- your walls pulsing around him and your clit throbbing, in desperate need of attention. But he gave you no relief as he held you down- even your skin tight suit couldn’t give you any friction because of how far he ripped it. Where you could usually feel his balls slapping against you, you just felt air and come. You don’t know what happened to make him like this but his balls being this tight was maybe the only negative.

The sound of his come being forced out was more obscene than before, and your cheeks burned from the humiliation, bringing you even closer to relief.

“Oh- Jay, I’m-” You gasped out, feeling so fucking close to your orgasm. When he slammed into you with a loud moan, you fell over the edge, body twitching and walls spasming, but you let out an anguished cry when he didn’t continue the rough thrusts. He stopped and was only occasionally bucking into you as he came, making you try to move your hips under him to get more friction, but he was holding you completely still as his come filled you up for the fourth time. You let out a choked sob, your ruined orgasm bringing tears to your eyes, but he paid no mind to it as he relished in his own pleasure.

“Fuck.” He groaned, drawing the word out. “So fucking tight.” He started panting as he came down from his orgasm, your quiet sobs falling on deaf ears. When his cock finally stopped twitching inside you, he dragged it out, hissing at the sensitivity.

Placing his hands on your ass, he spread your cheeks to get a closer look at the mess he made- your torn suit, your abused hole desperately fluttering around nothing, his come covering the floor between your legs and your cunt as it still flowed out of you.

“Fuck- baby, let me see your tits.” He groaned and you turned your sore body over, cringing at the feeling of laying in his come. He settled on the floor next to your stomach, gaze never leaving your exposed chest. When he lightly brushed his fingers over your red nipples, you hissed in pain. Looking down, you were startled by the sight- your breasts were covered in tiny scratches and crescent indents, but your nipples were completely bright red.

“Aren’t you a fuckin sight.” He groaned under his breath. When his gaze moved up to your face though, he faltered. He eyed your tear stained cheeks that were red from the rough pavement and his face fell as he recoiled away from you. He quickly tucked himself back in his pants, not able to look at you and you leaned up on your elbows a little, staring at him with furrowed brows.

“What’s wrong?” You asked quietly. Did he figure out that you liked it? “Jay?”

“N-nothing, I’m sorry. I- I should…” He stammered out, keeping his gaze anywhere but on you. You leaned up fully and zipped up your suit, wincing as the fabric pressed tight against your sore nipples. “I’ll take you home.” He muttered, standing up to retrieve his helmet. You stood on shaky legs, trying not to show any physical indication that the feeling of his come trickling out of you was turning you on. You limped over to his bike, now fully feeling how sore you were from his rough treatment, but stopped as you stared at the seat. You don’t want to get it all messy… but what else are you supposed to do? He seemed to pick up on your internal debate and he took off his jacket, telling you to wrap it around your hips. You hesitated, but did it anyway, mentally reminding yourself to wash it as soon as you can.

He stiffened as you wrapped your arms around his torso, making your stomach drop. Does he think I’m disgusting now? You thought, trying not to cry. The realization was enough to distract you from the vibrating seat as the engine roared to life before he drove off, speeding to your apartment. When he arrived, he didn’t even turn off the engine, just stopped and waited. So you climbed off of the bike on shaky legs and waited for him to say something.

“I- I’m sorry. I’ll call you.” You wished you could see his face. Before you had a chance to respond, he was speeding off, making your stomach drop. You tried not to cry as you limped upstairs into your place, grimacing at the feeling of his come dripping down your thighs inside your suit.

Maybe it was just a misunderstanding? No… His attitude only changed after he saw your face, desperate for a proper orgasm. It couldn’t have been anything else.

A few days later you were still waiting for his call. You didn’t go on patrol for multiple reasons. The main one being that you couldn’t get rid of the nausea in your stomach from what happened. But also because he usually picks you up to go with him, and he hasn’t done that yet so he obviously doesn’t want to see you. You sat by your phone for three straight days, waiting for his name to pop up on your screen, and with every day that went by, you lost just a little more hope that he would call— that he wasn’t completely disgusted by you and wanting to break up.

Eventually you decided you’d had enough, so you called him. It only rang twice before you were sent to voicemail, making bile rise up your throat. Another two days later you decided to go to his house. If he’s ending things, you at least want to fucking know.

“Let me get this straight… She found you after Ivy dosed you, you couldn’t control yourself, fucked her, then acted like a complete ass, took her home, and haven’t talked to her since?” Roy asked and Jason nodded hesitantly. “How fucking stupid are you?”

“Excuse me?”

“Fucking listen to yourself, Jason. You fucked her, then barely said two words to her as you dropped her off—not even attempting any kind of after care after something so intense— then didn’t even send her a text. You’re fucking psychotic.” His face fell as Roy explained it to him.

“Oh… Oh.” Jason said through a breath, staring at the wall behind him with wide eyes. “Dude, I fucked up-”

“No shit, asshole.”

“Oh my god what did I do?” He muttered, frozen.

You paced outside his door, trying to psych yourself up to knock. “You can do this.” You muttered, shaking your head to try and clear any doubts. “It’s just Jason. You’ve taken on way worse than him- this is a piece of cake.” Despite your sure tone, your stomach was twisting with anxiety. “Okay just do it. Just do it.” You said, raising your first but immediately lowering it. You raised it again and waited, taking a deep breath as you moved your hand toward the wood. Before you could knock, it was being opened and you stared in shock when you were met with Roy.

“Uh…” You glanced between his face and your fist, then quickly lowered it.

“Sorry… I was on my way out. He’s in there though.” He said, using his thumb to point over his shoulder.

“Okay- okay. Cool.” He left the door open and slowly walked past you but you were frozen, staring inside.

“You good?” He asked, raising his brows.

“Me?” You scoffed, giving an unconvincing smile. “Totally. I’m so good- perfect actually.”

“Okay… Are you gonna go in then?” He looked between you and the open door.

“Yep. I- I’m going…” You took a single, tentative step toward the door, then froze again.

“Stop being a pussy and go curse him out already.” He said, making you turn to him with wide eyes. “Go.”

“I am. Give me a fucking second.” You hissed.

“Roy? Why didn’t you close the-” Jason was on the other side of the doorway now, staring at you in shock. Neither of you noticed as Roy left. “…Do you want to come in?” He asked and you nodded, hesitantly stepping inside.

“You didn’t call.” You said, trying to keep all of the emotion out of your voice. You crossed your arms as he closed the door and turned to you, shifting his weight between his feet.

“I’m sorry, I was… busy?” You stared at eyes that wouldn’t meet your own, quickly growing angry from his response.

“Fuck you, Todd.” You scoffed walking toward the door, but he lightly grabbed your arm to stop you.

“I’m sorry… Are you okay?” When he let go of your arm, you turned to face him.

“If you want to break up just say that.” You muttered, trying to keep your voice steady. You looked away from him as you waited for his response.

“What? I don’t- I don’t want to break up. Do you want to break up?” He asked, making you look at him again, this time with a glare.

“I’m not the one who promised to call and then didn’t. I’m not the one who- who left after… that.” He stayed silent so you sighed, then continued. “Look, if you think I’m weird now or don’t want anything to do with me then fine. But you could at least fucking tell me.” You snapped, feeling your eyes start to burn with unwanted tears.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” He asked, brows furrowed.

“Jason, I'm not in the mood for whatever you’re trying to do.” You sighed.

“No- what the fuck are you talking about? Why the hell would I think that?” You stared at him, waiting for him to laugh and tell you he was kidding and that you’re right, but he stayed silent.

“Because I- I… liked it- when that probably shouldn’t have been something I was meant to enjoy.” You muttered, gaze moving to your feet.

“No you didn’t.” He said simply, making you look back up at him with furrowed brows.

“Jason, what-“

“You were crying and I hurt you. I- I… raped you... I figured you wouldn’t want anything to do with me.” He said quietly, crossing his arms over his chest and averting his gaze.

Oh. Okay that makes a little more sense.

“That’s why you got all cold and left? Cause you thought you did that?” You asked softly, comfortingly.

“I don’t think I did that,” You cut him off before he could say the rest.

“Jason, I get that you were a little out of it and frankly I’m still not even completely sure I understand what happened, but did you seriously not notice that I liked it? I literally came from just that and no other stimulation.” You tried not to let yourself get embarrassed by the confession.

“But- you were crying…” He stared at you with furrowed brows, trying to find the hidden truth behind your words.

“Because when I came, so did you and you pretty much stopped moving so it was a ruined orgasm. I wasn’t crying before that.” He was silent for a moment and you tried not to squirm as you anxiously awaited his response.

“Oh.” He said under his breath, bringing a hand up to anxiously rub the back of his neck. “I’m sorry for ruining it.” He said sheepishly.

“It was still hot.” You shrugged and his eyes widened just the slightest amount. “All of it was really…” You muttered, cheeks heating up.

“All of it?” You nodded. “All of it?”

“Oh my god- Yes, Jason. All of it.” You said, getting even more embarrassed.

“But you were on the ground in an alley…” The way he said it made it sound like a question.

“Yeah and I took a very thorough shower after. Especially because of how much you came, it was literally everywhere.” This time, he was the one to blush at your crude words. “You wanna tell me what that was about now?”

“Ivy.” He shrugged, but there was hesitation in his voice.

“You confronted Ivy alone?” Just by his expression, it was obvious that he knew he was in trouble.

“I was just looking into something and she ambushed me. I didn’t think I’d actually see her.” He defended. “I would’ve brought you if I thought something was gonna go down.” The confirmation that he wouldn’t voluntarily be that stupid eased your nerves a bit. He suddenly took a step forward and lightly cupped your cheek as his gaze trailed all over your face.

“I’m sorry I left you alone, that was wrong. I wasn't thinking straight and I know that’s not an excuse but,” You cut him off with a kiss, pressing your body to his and bringing your arms up to wrap over his shoulders as you stood on your toes to reach his height. When you pulled back, both of you were panting quietly, eyes still closed and foreheads pressed together.

“You don’t have to apologize, but I forgive you.” You whispered through a breath.

“Good.” He pulled back a little, so you opened your eyes, finding a mischievous expression on his face. “If that’s done, I think we need to have a lengthy conversation about all of the kinks you’ve been hiding.” He teased, making your face heat up. “Starting with whatever it was that made you come from penetration alone because I will be doing a lot more of that from now on.”

“Oh my god.” You muttered, leaning forward to bury your face in the crook of his neck with a small smile.

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