#red hood slow burn

[super-cerulean]

2. I Took a Chance on Saving Me, That's Not a Front

❄️Master Post: All Parts

❄️Pairings: Jason Todd x Gender Neutral Reader

❄️Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death, Language, Mentions of Mental Illness, Mentions of Depression and Dissociation, Angst, Slow burn

❄️Summary: Following the events of One and Only, Jason Todd's life is spiralling out of control. His best friend is dead, his family thinks he's on the verge of a meltdown, and the one person who might understand is locked up in Arkham and hates his guts. Knowing he's getting to a point where things are going to overwhelm him, he can either let himself react the way he reacts, or he can do something drastic to try and prevent the next Arkham Knight situation. Which one do you think he goes with?

❄️Links: Available on AO3

Predictably, things didn't go as smoothly as Jason tried to convince himself they would go. Something about the silence that permeated his bedroom that night made his thoughts run rampant. He tried to just push through it and busy himself with TV or digging up a case to investigate, because actually putting on the suit when he was like this was never a good idea, but at some point he couldn't focus on any of it. 

He was so fucking overwhelmed, and he had no idea how to deal with it. By then, he was getting desperate and he was starting to find his thoughts dragged back to you. Maybe he felt some kind of kinship with the way you handled your emotions, or maybe he was just grasping for anything he was fixated on that felt less volatile than Roy’s death. Whatever it was, Jason had followed it’s influence and spent much of the night reliving what had happened between the two of you. As he thought, he felt a compulsion beginning to form in the back of his mind. 

It was a terrible idea, that much Jason was sure of immediately. He knew it was idiotic as he'd been hacking into Arkham's network and searching for your files, yet a part of him was a little too hopeful too stop himself. He had to at least try to help you. His conscience was eating itself alive while you rotted in that sorry excuse for a mental health institution. He couldn't give up; not when he was living some semblance of a fulfilling life despite everything he'd done. If he got a second and third chance, you deserved one too. At least, that was the reasoning he was comfortable with for now. He didn't want to delve too deep into how alone he'd really felt and how much he craved understanding from someone else. 

The system was ridiculously easy to get into, and he was pretty confident you were the least of the asylum's problems. He found your record easily, and as expected you were the model inmate. They probably wouldn't even notice if he snatched you out of there, but he wanted to do things the right way...well as right as things can be when he'd be forging documents to arrange for your release. What he was really worried about was getting you to agree to come with him. He was fairly certain that the moment he walked into the same room as you, his plan would be over immediately. He needed a face you didn't know, and someone who he could trust not to get too involved. So, once the business side of things was arranged, he decided to head on over to Gotham academy to spend some time with his newest sibling.

 It didn't take much convincing from Alfred to take over driving Duke home from school. The older man had tried not to be obvious about it, but he was relieved to see Jason in the manor and offering to be more involved with the family. Jason was thankful for that, especially because it meant he got the town car without having to answer too many questions. Things were lining up perfectly so far. 

"Uh…Hi?" Duke furrowed his eyebrows when he noticed Jason was the one standing outside of the school waiting for him, suspicion slipping onto his expression. "You're driving me home?"

"Eventually, but we've got a quick stop to make first."

Duke paused, narrowing  his eyes a little and making a face that Jason knew meant he wasn't going anywhere until he got more information. Honestly, he'd have been a terrible superhero if he didn't question such a shady situation, so Jason didn't take it personally when he had to explain himself more. 

"I have this friend, and I need to talk to them but they're kinda pissed at the moment, so I can't be the first person they see."

"Meaning you want me to trick someone into meeting with you?" 

"Pretty much. I just need a chance to talk to them in private."

"...Where do we have to go?" 

Jason somehow managed to get Duke into the car without having to explain all the gritty details. It was very likely that he wouldn't have gotten in if he knew they were picking you up from Arkham. Predictably, he was a little upset when he found out. 

"Jason, what the Hell do you got me doing?"

"Nothing bad. Like I said, I have a friend I need to talk to."

"In Arkham Asylum?"

"Yeah, but look: I already handled everything, and they're not high profile. It's just walking in and out."

"And by 'handled' you mean you hacked into the system and forged their release, right? Yeah, go ahead and start the car back up."

"C'mon, please? I swear, this person's harmless, and I took care of everything you could get in trouble for. It's just a quick walk in, and walk out."

"Why do you need to see them so badly in the first place?"

"Because…" Jason hesitated. He was asking for a lot of trust from Duke, yet he found himself hesitant to cross that same bridge. Frowning, he tried to find the best way to word the truth to make himself seem less impulsive. "We've kinda got history, and I fucked them over the last time we talked. I owe them a second chance."

"And the reason you said they're mad at you is because of what you did. What was it?"

"…a lot, actually. Enough to want to be in Arkham rather than around me, so." 

Duke hesitated at that, looking apprehensive to become involved in the shit storm that was Jason's relationships. Maybe it wasn't fair of him to ask the younger man to get involved, but Jason needed to be able to do this without the others getting involved. They wouldn't understand and he wasn't confident he could explain it to them. He wasn't wasn't sure if he understood why he needed to see you again himself, but he did know that he was desperately looking for something to focus on besides Roy’s death.

"Look, I know I don't necessarily have the best track record, but I swear this isn't anything crazy. It's just...it's personal and something I need to do on my own."

"Yeah, I get that," Duke said, expression shifting to something closer to pity. “I got you this time, but next time be a little less shady about it.”

"I swear I’ll be more forthright next time. I seriously owe you, thanks."

"You sure do.." 

Jason tried not to show it, but the closer they got to the Asylum, the more anxious he was becoming. He hadn't seen you since the night you'd given him that ultimatum. When he'd shot you and begged you to spare Artemis and the city. He hadn't seen her in a while either, but she had her own problems to deal with. 

Finally, just as it began to snow again, Jason wound the car up the long road to the Asylum. It hadn't been paved nearly as much as the main roads, so he took care in driving slowly through the thick snow. The delayed ascent only made his nerves worse, so he tried to subtly wipe the sweat from his hands. Duke didn’t seem to notice, shuffling his bags out of the way and shrugging off his school blazer. 

"I’ve got an ear piece in case things go sideways, but I doubt you’ll run into trouble," Jason explained once they had parked. Duke nodded, tucking the small device into his ear and rolling his shoulders. He was pretty relaxed for someone who’s been thrown into Jason’s admittedly shitty plan without much preamble. 

Once he was settled, Jason went over the plan with him in more detail. He gave him your name, and instructed Duke to follow Arkham's release process and to bring you out to where he'd parked the car. As they spoke, he turned off the car and stepped outside, making sure Duke looked official enough when he did the same. 

"Anything else I should know before I commit a felony?"

"It’s not really a felony. At least not a serious one. And no, there’s nothing to worry about." Jason may not know everything you got into working for Oswald, but he knew you weren’t a killer. On a good day, at least.

"Thank God. Guess I'll see you on the other side then?"

"Yep. If you need any help at all, I put a panic button in the pocket if the jacket. It'll send an alert to my phone and I can come to your rescue."

"Roger that," Duke said, and with a quick salute he started off towards the Asylum. Jason waited until he was already inside to reach back into the car and fish out a cigarette to smoke while he waited. He needed something to do other than quietly panic. Was he making a huge mistake? He was pretty sure you'd never wanted to see him again after everything happened. You hated him, after all. But was rotting in Arkham any better? The least he could do was let you out. He couldn't force you to let him help, but he could at least give you your freedom back. 

Jason managed to smoke through about half of the cigarette before the doors to the Asylum opened again. He saw the top of Duke's head, and quickly moved to sit inside the car, letting the door hang open. He needed you to get closer before you realized what was happening. 

Duke walked around to where Jason was sitting, looking at him expectantly as you shuffled nearer to the car. Jason took one more long drag of smoke before he stamped it out and stood to face you. His heart was hammering so intensely that he was afraid you'd hear it, and he had to drag his gaze upwards to your face. He expected fireworks; anger, yelling and pleading on his end to convince you not to march right back into the Asylum. You'd always been good at surpassing his expectations though, and Jason wasn't sure what to do with the silence he was met with. 

The snow had lightened it's descent enough to give him a clear view of the parking lot and the shocked eyes staring his way. He wasn't sure what to make of your expression. It wasn't anything near a hateful glare, to which he was grateful for, but the subtle tug of your eyebrows bothered him and he wasn't sure why. Somehow you looked simultaneously exactly the same and totally different. You didn't say anything, but he could hear the echoes of your voice. The last thing you'd said to him and his last words going back and forth in his head like they were playing tennis, and he'd probably have spun himself dizzy if you hadn't finally found your voice in the extended silence. 

"I should have known you were behind this."

 Duke shifted back and forth a bit awkwardly on his heels, and Jason took a quick second to glance towards the car. He caught on quickly, seeming grateful to have his own escape from the situation as he hurried into the passengers side of the car. Jason returned his attention to you once he did, squaring his shoulders and taking a bold step forwards. Immediately you took your own step back, shoulders hiking up almost defensively. Jason stopped in his tracks. 

"Don't. Why are you here?"

"Because...you don't belong in Arkham."

"Yeah, I do," you scoffed, disbelieving. "You know I do, don't act like you don't."

"You made mistakes, sure, but that doesn't mean you should rot in that hell for the rest of your life. I've done shit too, you know that."

"It's not the same."

"Yeah, it is." Jason took another step forward, and this time you didn't move away. He scanned your face, coming close enough to feel like he wasn't yelling at you across the parking lot. He could see you shivering through your coat, and he was sure it wasn't from the cold. 

"I did the shit I did in the past because I was hurting and I know you were the same. I know you're not a bad person, and I know I didn't give you many options-"

"It wasn't your fault." Jason stopped in the middle of his sentence when you spoke up, his own brows coming together in confusion. You dropped your gaze to his feet momentarily, then shifted it up and away from him entirely as you continued. 

"There was nothing you could have done, Jason. It wasn't your fault I felt the way I did and did what I did. I just…I lost myself. I wanted you more than anyone or anything I'd ever wanted in my life, and I didn't know what to do. I still don't." You broke off, voice pitching and you swore quietly. Jason's heart lurched watching you swipe at your eyes impatiently, still trying not to look at him. 

"I don't know why it happened, but all this time I've been here I've just been so fucking ashamed of it all. Nothing I did was okay, and it wasn't okay to put you through it all. And the worst part is, no matter how awful I feel, I still don't regret doing any of it. Because it meant I got to spend that time with you that I had. It's so fucked up, Jesus christ. I hate the person I became to be near you and I hate that I'd probably do it again if I had the chance to feel like that again. So…just fucking leave me here, okay? This is where I'm supposed to be."

He was being selfish. The thought ripped through Jason's mind as quickly and as violently as a bullet, and he felt it ricochet from his head to his chest. His heart hurt watching you. He could only imagine how you felt watching him come back into your life when you felt the way you did. He knew, in every part of his mind that he should leave you alone. If not in Arkham, somewhere far away where you could hopefully heal and forget about him. Yet, he didn't want you to. He could say it was for heroic reasons all he wanted, but really he needed someone around who understood how he felt, and as far as he knew you were the only person who could.

"It doesn't have to be like this. I don't know how or if I can for sure, but I want to at least try to help you. Please, at least let me do that much." 

Your head tilted back, eyes closed as you breathed in and out slowly. Jason didn't move. He was afraid to even breath before you responded, worried about what your response would be. He could see you were tired, likely struggling with the emotional weight of seeing him and dredging up all of your feelings again. He was sorry you had to, and sorry he wasn't strong enough to find some other way to keep his thoughts away from Roy. 

Your eyes opened finally, looking as watery as they had before and like you were losing the fight against your tears. For a moment you just watched him, and Jason was glad he couldn't see his own expression in your eyes from where he was standing. He didn't want to even imagine what he looked like, begging someone to fight for something they'd already given up on for his sake. 

"It'll be okay," he whispered. It could have been to convince you, or to convince himself for all he knew, but it felt like he needed to say it. 

"Fuck," you said eventually. It wasn't an agreement, but it wasn't a denial either. He wasn't sure if you believed him, but you moved towards the car. You were willing to try. Jason hurriedly pulled open the door to the back seat, finally feeling like he could breathe when you climbed in. He shut your door once you were safely inside, settling into the front and buckling in before any of you could change your mind. 

Thankfully, when he glanced at Duke in the back, he was tugging out a pair of headphones from his ears and pushing them back into their case. Jason would have to make this up to him somehow. For being there to help and doing something he wasn't comfortable with for Jason's sake, and for respecting his privacy. For now, he caught the younger boy's eye, and gave an appreciative nod. Duke didn't say anything, but gave a small nod in return. He didn't look back at Arkham the entire time they drove away. In the turmoil of getting you the hell out of there, he'd forgotten how much he hated that place. Hopefully he wouldn't have to come back anytime soon. Not for you, at least, and not for a while. 

The car ride was tense for a long time, at least until Jason had made it back into the heart of the city. Traffic was hellish at that time of day, so it wasn't much of a surprise that the three of you ended up in the middle of a traffic jam, especially with the snow falling everywhere across the city. He wasn't sure what to say to break the awkward air, and Duke certainly didn't have any ideas with the way he was scrolling endlessly on his phone. Eventually, once the silence had seemed like it would stretch on forever, your voice was the one to break through.

"I guess you're not really my parole officer," you said, leaning a bit to get a better look at Duke. "You did look kinda young."

"Yeah...I don't know how any of them believed that," he said, laughing a little. "I'm Duke" 

 Jason didn't say anything as the two of you exchanged names. He hadn't known how to introduce the younger man outside of his name considering the reaction he'd gotten mentioning they were technically brothers or something before. Stephanie and the others had distracted him, but Jason remembered seeing something in Duke's reaction that looked upset at the label. It certainly wasn't his business to pry or push the idea, so he left it alone for the time being. Until he knew more, he'd settle for keeping their relationship general as Duke explained that Bruce Wayne was his guardian now. 

"This is our second time hanging out, actually," Jason offered after Duke had mentioned Jason kidnapping him after school. 

"Interesting second impression," you said, eyebrows raised a little. Jason fiddled with the heat a bit, cranking it up and down after deciding the temperature was probably fine. 

"Yeah. How long have you two been friends?"

"Friends?" You mimicked, and when Jason looked into the rear view again, you looked pretty amused at that. Your gaze cut up to catch Jason’s in the mirror, and he internally cursed himself out for looking away as soon as you did. 

"Is that what we are?"

“We were at one point.” 

“But not anymore?” Duke asked, peering curiously between you and Jason. He seemed caught between wanting to be suspicious and amused by the reaction he'd gotten, watching Jason carefully when he made to respond.

“It's a work in progress.” 

“Right,” you said, and  Jason had a hard time deciphering your tone. Deciding the conversation had taken a tense turn, he reached for the radio and bathed the car in Christmas carols for the rest of the drive. 

Duke was nodding off by the time Jason parked the car. He sat upright once the car was stationary, glancing around and reorienting himself. Finally, his eyes landed on the blue neon sign illuminating the snowy street he’d parked on the side of. 

“A laundromat?”

“Yeah. It’s a lot more clever when you see the inside,” Jason said, as he pushed a sly grin onto his face. You didn’t say anything, rolling your eyes as you climbed out of the car. He turned to Duke when you did, stopping him from unbuckling himself. “Wait here.” 

He left the keys in the ignition as Duke gave a disappointed affirmation, then slid out of the car himself and crossed the distance to the front door, pulling it open for you to slip inside first. 

“Thanks,” you mumbled. The laundromat was quiet, as it usually was, with muted ramblings playing on the small TV set up near the back. Jason had been hoping it’d be empty, but unfortunately Gothamites tended to treat the time as a loose guideline, making patterns and routines as they pleased. Naturally, one of the regulars Jason had been hoping not to see was inside. 

Taking up a washer and dryer close to the TV stood one of the nosiest old men he’d ever met. He’d immediately abandoned his enthrallment in the Gotham vs. Metropolis football game to watch the two of you walk into the room, and Jason knew by the raised eyebrow that questions were incoming. 

“Night, Mr. Leoni,” Jason grunted. If it were someone else, the short greeting might have dissuaded them from further investigation. Mr Leoni, however, was hard to shake. Jason was pretty sure he’d been in the Falcone mob at some point with the gritty confidence he always carried, but he'd never really looked into it to be sure. All he cared about now was that the man tended to ask too many questions when Jason came home through the dingy laundromat.

“Yeah, yeah. Pretty late for guests, ain’t it?”

“Don’t you have a game to watch?”

“We’re crushin’ em, anyway. 5-0,” he smirked. Jason watched his gaze shift away from himself, eyeing you instead. “Anthony Leoni; pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Jason scowled, ushering for you to continue walking as you introduced yourself. He ignored the teasing ‘have a nice night’ coming from the other room as he led you through the back room. There was a locked storage room and another door with higher security that led to his current home. The building had been a front for one of Maroni’s gangs back when money laundering was still a literal term. Jason had found it a while back and converted the massive basement into a sort of condo space. The first door required a set of generic keys, but the second was a combination of biometrics and a six-digit passcode. He’d probably need to add you to that eventually. 

“Ah, I get it now: money laundering,” you mused. Jason cracked a half smile as the second set of locks clicked, pushing the door open and moving out of your way. You wandered into the renovated space, seeming impressed with how it looked. Jason hung back by the door for a moment, trying to imagine what would be going through your mind.

“I don’t actually have a spare, so you can just take my room for now.” 

“You know I have my own place, right?”

“The one you tried to blow up?” Jason heard you scoff, despite being a lot further into the room than him. “I think the cops seized that one.” 

“That wasn't my only spot,” you replied, shooting him an unimpressed look. “I'd be pretty fucking stupid to show you my only base of operations and try to blow it up.”

“Valid. But we should probably wait to send you over there until we’re sure the release sticks. You never know when Arkham’s going to suddenly follow the rules and find some competency.”

“If you insist,” you hummed, fingers trailing along the couch Jason would be sleeping on. You stopped suddenly, a dark look crossing your expression. “I can’t tell if you’re being naive or insanely overconfident about all of this.”

“What do you mean?” 

“You seriously want me to live with you? To sleep in your bed, after everything I did and how I felt?”

“Even if you are still trying to kill me, you wouldn’t get the chance,” Jason replied, knowing he was dodging the root of your question. “So I guess I'm overconfident.”

He heard you let out a quiet laugh, and after a moment of consideration, you seemed to decide on following his tangent away from your words. 

“There you go underestimating me.”

“I won’t make that mistake again, trust me.” Jason cringed at the memory of how far into desperation you’d been able to drive him. He tried not to think about how he’d gone from shooting you to kissing you in such a short span of time, or how vividly he remembered doing both. 

“You good here for now? I gotta take your parole officer back home; it’s a school night.”

“I guess so.” Jason waited for further explanation, but by the way you settled onto his couch and flicked on his TV, it didn’t seem he would be getting one. He wasn’t sure what else to say, and he was content with the rocky sort of understanding the two of you had fallen into, so he decided to just head out without another word. 

Duke was still waiting in the car when Jason got back, talking quietly on the phone. By the time Jason actually got into the car, he’d already hung up and was tucking under his thigh. Jason focused on starting the car and running the past few hours over in his head again. It was going way too easy, especially for something so hastily put together and chaotic. He had to be missing something. 

“Alfred said dinner’s almost ready,” Duke explained after a while of sitting in silence. “He asked if you wanted to join us?”

“I probably shouldn’t.” If it wasn’t for the recently sprung arkham inmate wandering around his house, it’d be the scattered thoughts Jason was still trying to sort through. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow anyway, for the tree thing. If I stay too long, they may try to keep me overnight.”

“That does sound like something they'd do,” Duke chuckled. “Seems like you have your hands full anyway.”

“Understatement of the century.” 

“I don't really know what your plan is or who that was, but…if you need anything else, I don't mind helping you out.” 

“I'd have thought you'd run for the hills the next time I asked for a favor after today,” Jason replied, glancing over and catching the strange seriousness in Duke's eyes. 

"I probably should, but it was kinda nice being away from it all. Or at least, around someone who doesn't treat me like a new puppy or a charity case. Believe it or not, I do actually notice that you go out of your way to be chill."

"We all kind of had shitty pasts, but as the resident street-rat turned basket case I get it."

"Yeah, and honestly? Sometimes that's the best thing. Just…being around someone who gets it."

Jason nodded, feeling a light sort of validation settle into his chest. He may have been impulsive in his decision to break you out of Arkham, but at least there had been some sense of logic behind it. A companionship that even Duke seemed to understand as an outsider to the Wayne family dynamics. Maybe that meant Jason wasn't as unhinged as he'd thought he was.

[mostly-imagines]

The Alchemy vol. II

jason todd x fem!reader

aka the progression of your relationship with the red hood

part one

warnings: depictions of blood and injury, standard gotham violence, jason doesn't know how to have feelings, reader is angry, threats against readers life, implied concern of sexual assault

It might be a matter of deficiency in self-preservation skills, how the sound of your window sliding open does nothing to phase you. You don’t know if that’s your fault or his.

“How’s it goin’ down there?” You mumble, not sitting up from your position on the couch.

He pushes the window shut in his wake, huffing. “I am up here for a reason,” he says factually.

You crane your head back just in time to see him tug the red helmet off his head, setting it down on your side table. He has on his under-mask that covers the lower half of his face. You don’t like that one.

He glances around your apartment as he approaches with slow steps. “Why are all the lights off?”

“Forgot to turn ‘em on,” you tell him simply.

He frowns at you, confusion evident.

You pay him no mind though, taking an exaggerated breath and pushing yourself up off the couch before trotting over to the kitchen. You open the fridge and scrummage for a water bottle. Jason thinks it’s odd how long it takes you to find one in your own fridge. 

Once it's (eventually) in your hands, you chug down several gulps and toss the half empty bottle towards the counter where it lands with a sloppy thump and rolls.

When you return, he’s leant against the armrest of your chair, watching you. You stop in the middle of the room, a contemplating stare on the floor. He tilts his head at you, wondering what you could possibly be thinking so hard about.

You take a deep breath before plopping down to lay on the carpet all in one go. 

He peers down at you, barely trying to hide his amusement. “You’re drunk.”

You shake your head, “I’m not sober.”

“That’s—yeah.” He stands all the way, coming to lay down on the floor next to you, using significantly more coordination than you had.

He lays in between you and the couch, though it doesn’t seem you’d left him much room. If he minds, it doesn’t show. “What’d you do?”

“I jus’ went out with my friend,” you tell him, closing your eyes. “She moves pretty fast..”

It occurs to him that you might be laying on the ground because you got nauseous. He turns to look at you, scanning you over. “You good?”

“I feel great,” you keen. “I feel…swooshy.”

He gives you a bemused look. “Dizzy?”

You shake your head with a great deal of consideration on your face, “No, not even dizzy, just…swoosh.” You throw out a hand with a theatrical flick.

“Mhm.”

You pucker your lips to the side. “You come here a lot,” you comment, clearly working up to some greater observation.

“You’re in my neighborhood,” he shrugs. 

Your head tilts, “You live here?”

He pauses before correcting himself, “My territory.”

You hum, “Still. There has to be other people around here you know. ‘Specially if you’re passing out on balconies on the reg.”

He frowns, “I try not to make a habit out of it.”

You continue on, “Why do you always go to my apartment? There’s—”

“I don’t always come to your apartment—”

You deadpan, “You’re here like three nights a week. And I don’t even help you that much anymore, you’ve used up my whole first aid kit.”

You can literally feel the eyeroll like you have a sixth sense for it. “That thing wasn’t exactly impressive to start with..”

“Did enough for you, didn’t it? Anyways, my point is: I think you like me,” you say with a nod.

That has him going absolutely rigid, “What?”

“I’ve heard you’re an asshole.”

“What?”

You nod, “Like, people that run into you. They say you’re kind of a dick. You help ‘em ‘n everything, but also while being a dick. Sometimes.”

“Okay...”

“But you’re nice to me. Sort of,” you squint. “I think you like me.”

He hasn’t felt this straggled in a conversation in a while. “I—well I’m not here because you’re a world-class medic.”

You scoff, “There’s no world-class medics..” But then your tone switches up, into something lighter. “We’re friends aren’t we? I think we’re friends.” 

He shakes his head, staring up blankly. “Sure, we’re friends.”

“We’re friends and you like me,” you reiterate.

He really wishes you’d stop saying that. “Okay.”

“I like you too. Even though you’re kinda sketchy.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that.

You hum into the silence, looking up at the ceiling. “J…James, Jack, John…”

He smiles, gaze dancing across the egg-whitened popcorn texture of the ceiling. “I’m not going to tell you.”

You ignore him, “Jake, Jaden, Jason, Josh, Joe, Jesse…”

You’re about three shots too drunk to notice the way he briefly stiffens. 

“Juuhhh…” you lull your head to the side, the letter fading out slowly as you look into his eyes. If you focus, you think you can make out a few of those little specks of green again.

He seems to already be running his own study on your irises, his eyes now softer than you can remember seeing them before. 

His next words are whispered, the sounds barely escaping. “You’re pretty.”

What?

“What?”

“What?” He seems taken aback by his own words, like he also wasn’t expecting them to climb out of his mouth.

You can literally feel sobriety seeping back into your blood. “I’m…pretty?”

He blinks a few times, apparently trying hard to decide on what position he’s going to take here. “I—well…yeah.”

You blink once, relaxing. “I think…I think you’re pretty too.”

“What?”

“We can’t do this again.”

He breaks eye contact, looking almost dejected.

You turn your head down to where his hand thrums against the carpet. “I mean, I know I haven’t seen your whole face in one go, but I see the top half now and the bottom before, so I…maybe I shouldn’t be saying this.” You reset with a shallow breath, “I don’t know what your whole face looks like.”

“That was,” he blinks, eyebrows raised. “Fascinating.”

“Thanks,” you say flatly. You close your eyes again, though this time you remain facing him.

He feels a slight pang of guilt for the way he continues to ogle at you, eyes tracing over every detail of your face. But that ounce of guilt does nothing to outweigh the reward of gazing upon you. He didn’t mean to say it but he definitely meant it: you’re really fucking pretty.

Your eyelashes flutter for a moment before stilling, a display of peace washing over your features. It’s when your breathing steadies over and your face relaxes completely is when he starts to feel like a creep. It takes a lot of strength for him to force his eyes shut, depriving himself of the view.

And he doesn’t do it on purpose, but after a few moments his inhales and exhales take to the same rhythm of yours. The thin layer of the rug isn’t doing much to protect his back from the hardwood below and he’s pretty confident later he’ll curse himself for lying like this for so long. 

But as he lays, he doesn’t find himself focused on the dark red-gray of his eyelids like usual, so much as the warmth from the proximity of your bodies. He’s usually so concentrated on whatever the hell is going on in his head and it prevents him from really truly resting, but now, the only thing taking up his attention is physical sensations.

He feels this warmth in his heart that if he didn’t know any better, he’d call burning. His hands feel numb and he can distinctly feel the beat of his own heart in his chest, thrumming away.

He presses his lips to your forehead with a feather light touch, slow to pull away. He doesn’t make it all the way back to his original position before his movement lulls and his body relaxes again, joining you gladly in unconsciousness.

Gotham City has a particular gift for inconveniencing you at the worst possible moment and doing it multiple times a week.

Tonight's round of problems resulted in an entire city district getting shut down, the district which is regrettably right between your job and your apartment.

So on top of having to hole up into your work for two hours longer than you were supposed to, it took you an extra 45 minutes getting home while trying to maneuver around every other person in the same situation. And just to cement the quality of this night, the door to your apartment building slams nice and hard against your side and the light in the hallway is out.

You groan when you fail to get your key the lock the right way for the third time, lodging it in a final time and shoving the door open. You flick on the kitchen light and dump your bag onto the counter, kicking the door shut behind you.

You take a deep breath, eyes closed, as you lean your head back against the wall. The second you crack your eyes open again, a pile of red mass on the floor behind your couch catches your attention and startles some energy right back into your chest.

“Oh, shit,” you scurry over towards the window, crumbling down onto your knees in front of him. Your eyes dart across the red helmet, trying to makeout any signs of consciousness. “Hood?” 

There’s no response from him, no movement. You tug his helmet off, finding him eyes-closed with blood running down the side of his head. You push a hand down on his chest armor, shaking him. “J? J!”

His eyes flutter open slowly under his domino mask, adjusting to the light. With the disorientation on his face he looks younger, more his age. His hair is tousled up and you can make out some distinct curls in it when it's undone like this. 

He grimaces, gloved hand coming up to his head. He looks wearily at the blood on his fingers, before plopping his hand back down and blinking up at you. “Hey..”

You sit back on your heels with a sigh, “What the fuck?”

He makes a strained effort to sit up on his own so you try to heave him up by his forearm. As he comes up all the way you glance behind his back at a bag crumpled discarded on the floor. You can barely see some sort of fabric poking out the top. “What is that?”

“Huh?” He throws back a tired glance, “Oh. They're..curtains.”

“Explain.”

He looks at you blankly, “You don’t have any curtains.”

You blink. “Explain.”

“It’s dangerous for people to just be able to look in and see you. So. Curtains.” For a guy who reads Dostoevsky, he’s not much of a wordsmith. Though that could be the concussion. 

You reach around him and pull some of the fabric out of the bag, inspecting the linen. They match the theme of your living room.

You set it back down, blinking. “Thanks.”

He only gives a half-hearted shrug.

You look back at him, “How bad is the…?” You gesture to the side of your head.

He feels at the blood again, “It’s mostly just a cut. Shoulda stopped bleeding by now.”

You nod, “I’ll, uh—I’ll clean it up.”

He looks at you, shaking his head. “You don’t need to. Your kit’s almost empty anyways.”

“I restocked it,” you tell him, rising to stand. He lets you go retrieve your aid box without protest, listening blankly to the faucet run in the bathroom while you’re gone.

You return momentarily, damp rag in one hand, kit in the other. “Here, sit on the couch,” you tell him, nodding him up. 

He lugs himself up off the hardwood and onto the cushion with a groan. You position yourself on the cushion next to him, leaning over to inspect the cut. You brush through his hair as gently as you can, though you have to suspect he wouldn’t have minded either way—if only based on the pain threshold you know him to have.

As much as you are completely in his space, you’re having trouble getting all the access you need to fix him up right. You turn and adjust your angle this way and that but none of it works. 

You huff, sitting back. “I can’t..”

He nods his permission at you without delay, and you shift yourself over to sit fully on his lap, straddling him on the sofa. You put your focus into cleaning his wound, but you have to notice how deep he’s breathing and how he’s seemingly trying very hard to avoid eye contact. You’re sure your own breath is uneven and telling, and frankly you’re kind of hoping he has a concussion just so he might not notice it.

An unexpected sting has him flinching and grabbing your hips on instinct, a certain heaviness lingering in the air after contact. His hand tenses and he’s about to remove them from you completely when you manage to catch his gaze, and the few moments of silent eye contact are enough to convince him to stay. He forces his hands to relax against your waist, his fix on your face wavering before fizzling away completely.

You go back to dabbing at the blood and it’s clear that his thoughts get the better of him quickly. “You should move.”

“But then where would you go?”

He makes a rumbling noise from the back of his throat at that, saying nothing more.

You continue to wipe away at the blood until you can’t see it anymore, beyond the slice of the cut. You misjudge your own spatial awareness as you pull back from him, and the tips of your noses graze. Though the contact surprises you, you don’t move away from it. You become very acutely aware of his touch on your waist, how warm it feels atop your shirt. 

His head leans forward just barely before stopping. He retreats slightly and his body ultimately decides to come closer. He doesn’t stop until his lips, slightly parted, skim across yours.

Your breath catches as he looms nearer, lips touching against yours softly. He tests that pressure out for a moment, before moving to kissing you with more intent. You kiss him back, and though there’s an increasing resolve on both of your parts, the connection itself remains gentle, reposeful.

The last slight movement of his lips gradually slips away as he rests his forehead against yours.

A long beat passes before he’s tightening his grip on your waist and pulling you up to stand. You aren’t given the time to process the shift as he’s moving straight past you, head down. He pauses only when he gets to the window, back turned to you.

“Sorry—I’m…” his shoulders drop, “Sorry.” 

He climbs out and scales the fire escape in total silence until he’s gone completely.

You stand frozen in position, staring at the window with incredulity burning across your face.

What the fuck?

Two weeks pass of voided midnight visits. 

You’re not sure what to make of that. He kissed you, not the other way around. You couldn’t possibly have done something to upset him or throw him off since he’s the only one who did anything. All in all, it’s a little disappointing.

There had been tension there and it wasn’t shocking for you to learn that he wanted to kiss you. It was a bit of a surprise for him to actually do it, though not a bad one. But you were thrown for a grand fucking loop when he immediately bailed out.

Maybe you can’t read him as well as you think because you’d expected him to at least say something about it. It was a borderline given that he would come back and there would be a bonus surplus of tension but then there would be a resolution. Because he wouldn’t kiss you and then never come back. Nobody would do that, it doesn’t make sense.

It’s a little more than embarrassing to admit that you’ve been purposefully staying home in the hope that he’ll drop in. After fifteen nights of disappointment, you decided to put your focus elsewhere.

You’d asked a friend of yours to go out with you tonight, and never one to decline a night out, she agreed happily. 

The bell above the door jingles as you crack it open, peaking your head in. You find Chloe quickly, stood behind the bar with bottles in hand.

“Hey gorgeous,” she smiles at you, waving you in.

You step in, air conditioning hitting you hard. The sparkles on her cocktail dress catch your eye as she turns this way and that, trying to find the right spot for the whiskey. 

Chloe hums to herself as she searches, honestly taking a bit longer than she should. “You been cool?”

You nod, “Yeah, just—you know…” She doesn’t. Your affiliation with the Red Hood is something you’ve kept to yourself, though you don’t know why. It would be safer, more responsible to let someone else know about these drop-ins, but something about it feels personal. A strange feeling to tack onto it, you think. A regrettable one, at least. 

You take a deep breath, “You’ve been busy. Jessie call out again?”

She laughs dryly, “Oh yeah, of course. But it's fine, I love staying over an hour after close.” She sighs, “I’m almost done anyway.”

You circle around the bar, looking over the several yet-to-be-sorted bottles. “You need help?”

“No, there’s—” she cuts herself off as she looks over at the front door, face dropping. “Oh, shit. Duck.”

“Wha—” she yanks you down to the floor to crouch awkwardly behind the counter.

You hear the bell ring as the door swings open, followed by several pairs of footsteps and low voices.

“—Christ, if she forgets to lock the door one more fucking time I’m gonna kill her.”

You look at Chloe through furrowed eyebrows, her grip on you still tight. She shakes her head and puts a finger to her lips.

A second man mutters something you can’t make out.

The first voice continues, “Go around back and lug the crates in, we gotta start packing that shit.” 

Another voice, “The crates? They’re not here..”

There’s a heavy beat before the first voice speaks, “What the fuck do you mean they’re not here? She needs them now.”

“Well…the first shipments will be in later this week. The next batch’ll take until the end of the month, probably.”

A sigh, “Dumbass…”

The first voice huffs, “The end of the month? Are you fucking kidding me? I told you to get that shit ready weeks ago and you’ve got it coming in at the end of the month?” 

“I’ll…I’ll see what I can do to get it sooner.”

“Yeah, you do that,” he grumbles. “Motherfucker. I need a drink. Get a bottle of something.”

One of the men rounds the counter, tracks falling short at the sight of you and Chloe huddled against the counter.

“What the fuck?”

You and Chloe are wide-eyed and frozen as he sneers down at you. Still, he looks like he’s trying to be tougher than he is, compensating for size that he does not have, with an attitude that doesn’t match up with the way he sped around the counter to get the other man a drink.

Another guy comes around and you quickly recognize him as the man in charge. He frowns at Chloe, sighing, “You’re not supposed to be here still, Chloe.”

She shifts her weight, “I was just…finishing inventory…”

The bossman’s eyes move to you, laced with nothing but inconvenience. “Oh and you brought a friend. Great.” 

“Mr. Murray, we were just ab—”

He’s quick to cut her off with a hand, “Chloe. Stop talking.”

Her face falls flat and her words die off without hesitation.

“Get up.”

She’s pushing herself off the ground instantly while you’re still on the floor catching up with what the hell’s going on. As she moves out from behind the bar, you scurry to follow her. Your arm bumps against hers as you fiddle with the seams at the bottom of your outfit.

You dressed to go out with your friend on a Friday night, not to meet three mobsters in a closed bar with no witnesses. That’s to say, you’re feeling a little exposed.

You stand in the center of the bar, the three men looking various degrees of annoyed looks across their faces. Though the oldest looking of the bunch has something else in his eyes as he looks you up and down, in no rush to hide his engrossment in your bare legs.

“How old are you, honey?” Even without the blatant ogling, that’s never a good question to hear from a fifty year old man.

Your eyes avert to the floor, lips pursing. 

“Hey, don’t be rude. I asked you a question.” He nudges your chin up a bit rougher than necessary, forcing you to look him in the eyes. 

Somehow, you feel like there’s no answer here that would help you. 

The man at the bar serves as an unexpected saving grace of sorts, muttering, “We don’t have time for this.”

Your pursuer shakes his head, looking you over in a way that makes you feel very small. “I think we got plenty of time.”

“I disagree.”

All heads whip to the doorway where the Red Hood leans against the frame, checking his phone. A never invited but always welcome addition to the party. At least for you.

The man in front of you instantly steps back, putting some distance between the two of you. Hands across the room instinctively fly to holsters only to begrudgingly relax at their sides, probably figuring drawing on Red Hood isn’t in their best interest. Though your focus lies on the bell above his head that didn’t make a peep whenever he came in.

Hood shuts his phone off and puts it away with a quiet sigh before glancing up at the tension-filled room. He literally double takes when his helmet scans past you. You somehow feel more in trouble now than you did two minutes ago. 

“Hood..” the bossman says measuredly. “What are you doing here?”

He stares at you for a second longer before tearing his gaze away. “Just thought I’d check up on you, Murray. Make sure you’re not causing trouble in light of our agreement.” He makes a point of looking back at you and Chloe at that last part before looking to Murray expectantly.

He waves that off easily, “This is nothing. Just two late-shift employees.”

Hood takes a piqued breath. “You picked a bad time to lie to me,” he says flatly.

Murray shakes his head, “Look, we’re just cleaning up a mess. No harm.”

“Really?”

“This clean up benefits you too, they heard too much. The one girl—Chloe, get out. She’s fine, she’s not talking.”

Chloe wastes no time exiting hastily. Bye Chloe.

He continues, “We only need to kill one of them.” He says it like this is an ideal compromise. You’re feeling differently.

Hood huffs, pulling out a gun from his holster. “I’m thinking it’s implied that killing innocent people is a form of causing trouble. Which is in direct violation of our agreement.” He cocks the gun, pointing it at Murray’s head.

Murray steps back dramatically, throwing his hands up. “Hey, an alliance is an alliance!”

Hood wavers his head to the side, “Alliance is a strong word. Temporary tolerance maybe…”

The short man pipes up, “Okay, calm down, calm down. Nobody needs to get killed. We can cooperate.”

“That’s the spirit,” Hood quips, lowering his gun.

The older one shakes his head, “We don’t have anything on her, she’ll talk.”

The short man demurs, “We don’t know that—”

“She saw too much, we can’t have her walking around with that information,” Murray says, moving towards you. 

Hood puts his hands up like some kind of mediator, “Nobody’s killing anybody.”

Murray scoffs, “You were gonna kill me!”

Hood's hands drop as he stands in full, “And I still might!”

Boldly, Murray steps up to him.

But Hood looks down at him, easily a full head taller than him and at least twice his muscle mass. “Let's weigh out your odds here, Murray. Is that a fight you’re winning?”

The look on Murray’s face tells you it’s not and he struggles to maintain this chest to chest confrontation.

It only takes him a moment of wavering to decide to back off, though he sure as hell doesn’t look happy about it. 

Hood pushes past him, grabbing you by the arm and pulling you towards him. 

Murray splutters, watching you go. “You can’t—I-I know people.”

“I am people,” Hood grumbles, steering you towards the door.

Though you can be sure they have them, no one voices any objections aa he pulls you outside.

His stride doesn’t even falter as he marches you down the sidewalk in the direction of your apartment. Aside from the sound of the breeze wisping past your ears, it’s silent between you.

After two blocks you get the strong impression that this muted exchange of energy is just going to keep on, so you force yourself to find something to rattle off about. “That uh, that seems like something he’s gonna be mad about.”

He huffs, “Yeah, well he can get over it or die so I guess it’s a personal choice.”

You frown at his tone, “What’s your problem?”

That was, apparently, the wrong thing to say as his head snaps in your direction. “Why the hell are you out here?”

His sharp attitude has you stumbling a bit. “Why are you out here? You have a concussion.”

“I don’t have a concussion,” he grumbles. “And I just saved your life so maybe complaining about it isn’t your best move right now.”

You try to stop and face him but he doesn’t let you, keeping you moving along with him. “That’s what we’re doing? Really?” 

Are these about the social skills that you had expected from him based on your first meeting? Yeah. But that first meeting was months ago. He’s proven again and again that he has half a brain and the ability to read a room so you’re really not fucking sure what the hell his problem is. He won’t acknowledge that he kissed you and all but jumped out your living room window, but he will snap at you for asking about his concussion that there’s no way he doesn’t have. Especially if he’s acting like this. 

He ignores your comment, blatantly at that. “Did they say anything about a drug shipment?”

This is what we’re talking about? Sure. Fine. At least you’re talking. 

You open your mouth briefly before closing it again, eyes narrowed. “I don’t know.”

He tries again, “What about Nocturna? Did you hear that name?”

“I…I don’t know.” You weren’t exactly taking notes behind the bar counter. 

His head drops down heavily, “Okay, I think I’m seeing a trend for how this conversation’s gonna go...”

You gawk at him, astonished that he thinks it’s you who’s handling this discussion poorly. “You cannot be serious right now.”

He sighs, slowing as you approach the steps to your building, “Just—why’d they let Chloe go?”

You blink a few times, “I mean, she has a drug problem…” You guess that might be where she’s getting them from…

He nods solemnly, “Okay.”

You huff, turning to walk up the steps, shoulders heavy. You hope he’ll come up with you and maybe, just maybe, address the elephant in the room. 

“Are you—” you turn around to face him again, met with nothing but vacant air. 

A deep, tense, breath from you before calling out, “Really?”

One month. One month. And he decides to show up tonight like it’s no time lost. But there was some fucking time lost.

Count ‘em up, that’s one period, two paychecks, three grocery trips, four laundry days, and thirteen showers. And that stupid fucking vigilante ransacked your head during every single one.

You went through the five stages of grief for this bizarre, undefinable relationship and then discovered about six more while you were at it. 

So when you walk out from the bathroom, you’re a little pissed to see him sitting there on your living room floor, helping himself to a glass of water. 

Maybe it’s his domino mask that gives his expression the illusion of neutrality. Or maybe he really has no idea how insane it is that he would occupy your apartment like this after skipping out on you for an entire lunar cycle.

He leans against your armchair, inspecting a scratch on his lower arm. You enter silently, watching him the whole time as you make your way over to the far end of the couch.

He doesn’t look up at you though, not until after a minute or two of silence. 

“You got any bandages left?” he asks, throwing a glance over his shoulder. 

You stare at him incredulously. 

After ten seconds with no response from you, he turns around fully, frowning. “What?”

“Are you kidding me?”

“I—” he squints, eyes flickering across your face. “No?”

You continue to gawk at him, not trying for any words.

He stares back, eyes wide. “I don’t know what you want me to say...”

You tear your gaze from him, preferring to stare at the wall. “You know what, I think I know what your problem is.”

He gives a laugh with little life to it. “I only have one?”

You bite down on your lip, “You only have one I’m ready to kill you over.”

He sits with that for a minute. A long minute, before asking softly, “What is it?”

You shake your head, glaring at an unoccupied nail in the wall. “That you’re an idiot,” you mutter. You start to walk away  before turning around again after a few steps. “Where the hell have you been?”

He blinks, “Uh, there’s just been a lot of—”

“Bullshit.”

He’s about to argue his point, but quickly decides to concede, “Yeah.” He takes a deep breath, sitting back. “I…wasn’t prepared for this conversation,” he says carefully.

You scoff with a nod, “Yeah, neither was I, but it’s happening. I m—what did you think was going to happen here? I—you kissed me, you kissed me!”

“No I—” he huffs, “I shouldn’t have done that, okay?”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

He sighs, throwing his hands up at his sides. “What do you want me to say?”

You shrug without genuinity, “Anything that could possibly rationalize that sequence of decisions. You kiss me, run away, ghost me for a fucking month, and then show up again like nothing happened.”

He shuts his eyes, shaking his head. “I know, I know, I’m sorry!”

“I’m not asking you to be sorry, I’m asking you to pick a fucking lane and stick to it!”

He falls silent at that, eyes on the floor. It’s quiet for long enough that you start to think he’ll accept the silence as his cue to leave. You’re not sure if you want him to or not.

You take a deep breath, eyes closed. “I need you to start being straight with me. Now.”

He doesn’t look up, taking his time to find his words. “I am sorry,” he tells you. “I…I’m not good at this. I’m not good with words so I shouldn’t have fucking done it.”

Honestly you weren’t expecting him to actually come up with a reason, so you’re not prepared to weigh out whether or not it’s a good one.

“I like you...a lot. And I didn’t know—I don’t know—what to do about it so I kissed you and I didn’t think it through, and…I guess I panicked.”

That’s more than enough for you to warrant looking back over at him. It doesn’t take long for your gaze to start shifting around awkwardly while you scratch at your neck. “I would’ve taken you for more of a fight over flight kinda guy.”

He nods to himself. “Jus’ depends..” he says quietly.

And then it seems neither of you have anything else to say. You’ve run out of angry words to spit and he’s run out of apologies and excuses. But neither of you feel like you’re done.

The quiet lingers on for a painful amount of time. Your annoyance dissipates into something else, something more uncomfortable, but you couldn’t find a name for it. It’s got your thoughts going faster though and your chest feeling more hollow. Maybe not hollow…maybe just softer. 

He cuts through your thoughts before you can, “Are you mad that I kissed you?”

You shake your head, “No. I’m mad about what happened after.” You’re just mad about what happened after. Should’ve said just.

He thinks about that for a moment. 

“I can be honest with you,” he tells you. The way he says it, it’s somewhere between a peace offering and an assurance to himself.

You look at him again. He reads oddly vulnerable for a man his size with his reputation. You believe him. 

He goes on, “I trust you, you know? I want you to trust me too, if you can.”

You blink a few times, processing. “I…I don’t know anything about you.”

He nods, an anxious aura radiating around him. He leaves you hanging for longer than a few moments, getting you convinced that the conversation is just going to end there.

It doesn’t though, and after a few minutes, he sits up and reaches up to his mask.

It has you sitting up too, like he just pulled out a gun. Your hands fly up instinctually, as though this is completely uncalled for, as if he’s crazy for doing it.

He pauses his movements for a moment, making eye contact with you. His eyes reaffirm his words. He trusts you and he wants you to trust him.

You allow your hands to relax onto your lap and he continues on, taking his mask off.

You’re not revealed to much more of his face than you’d already seen before, but entirely in view like this, he’s a sight. You try not to stare but there’s little reward to removing him from your sight whereas the alternative…

All together like this you can see how his features balance his face out so nicely and make for a warm countenance, if not rough.

He takes a deep breath, setting his mask to the side. “My name is J…” he says with assurance. “Todd,” he tacks on.

You don’t mean to, really, but you’re sure the frown on your face is evident as puzzle pieces start forming and connecting in your mind. 

J…Todd…J…Jay…Todd…Jason…Todd…

Your mouth hangs open, “You’re Jason Todd. You’re de—” Well a couple things are starting to add up. “How are you…how are you not—”

He waves that away, tiredly. “It's a long story. Not particularly happy, either.”

Autopsy scar. Fuck. 

“I mean, I’ll…” he hesitates, “I’ll tell you if you want me to.”

He says it, but discomfort is painted across his face. You’re quick to shake your head, “It’s okay.”

He nods, likely relieved.

You stand up from your seat, crossing the room to sit down next to him. You’d half-expected him to tense up, but his body relaxes when you lean back against the chair.

You close your eyes before asking, “Who’s Nocturna?”

“She’s just this woman that’s been causing trouble for us.”

You don’t say anything and he continues on, shaking his head. “She’s more annoying than anything.”

You open your eyes, looking over. “Yeah?”

He shrugs, “Just trying to take over the underworld, the usual stuff. Nothing you need to worry about.”

You give a laugh that’s barely more than an exhale, relaxing your body completely..

There’s the slightest lull in activity before he sets his hand down on the floor, right on top of yours. The sounds of your breathing are the only thing that fill the room for a few minutes, save for the occasional car horn.

He glances at the clock on the wall, nearing midnight. “I have to go...” He says reluctantly.

You try not to let the disappointment show through your body language. “Go where?”

He pauses before telling you,  “A cemetery.”

You nod vacantly, “Oh. Just for fun, or…?”

He gives a dry laugh, “Just meeting an associate. They’re a bit dramatic, so.”

“Yeah, I’d say.”

“I’ll come back—I’m going to come back,” he mutters against your hairline.

You don’t respond, but you both know he’s good for his promise.

He looks around your apartment for a second before seemingly getting an idea. He pushes himself up off the ground and heads for your kitchen. You watch as he rips a sticky note off the deck on your fridge and scribbles something down on it. 

He returns to you, kneeling down and pushing the square of paper into your hand. “Here,” he says, looking you in the eye. “If you need anything. Anything.”

You engulf the note in your palm, nodding sincerely. His eyes flicker across your face, like he’s thinking about something. He hesitates for a moment, turning towards you, away from you, then towards you again. He holds the back of your head tenderly before pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead.

You look at each other up close for a second with nothing short of starry eyes before he turns away and ducks out the window.

You open up your palm and look down at the paper, at the ten digits scrawled across it.

Huh.

Must be official. 

🧨 reblog or die (this is a threat) 🧨

[to-the-stars8]

The Waynes' Nanny Chapters

Batfamily and Reader, Bruce Wayne x Reader

Ao3

Summary: One day, after getting fired from your job by your ex, you somehow ended up in Wayne Manor as the family's new nanny. Working with six kids is tough enough, but the handsome, rich, and emotionally confused father, billionaire Bruce Wayne, who is just too charming makes it a bit more difficult as your feelings for him confuse you. Nonetheless, you love the job and the kids, but soon enough you realize that maybe you're falling in love with the boss, too.

The Pilot Pt. 1 The Pilot Pt. 2 9 to 5 (Metaphorically) The Talk Plus One Take Your Nanny to Work Day The Night Time Routine Nanny In the Attic

[slasher-fucker-and-sucker]

Highway to Hell

The roar of the motorcycle's engine echoed through the empty streets as the night wrapped Gotham in its dark embrace. Jason Todd, clad in his leather jacket, the Red Hood helmet tucked under one arm, parked his bike outside the small diner you both loved. The neon sign buzzed faintly, casting an eerie glow over the cracked pavement.

He was late. Again. You sighed, checking your watch and trying to ignore the flicker of disappointment that ran through you. The truth was, you knew what you were getting into when you fell for Jason. The danger, the unpredictability, the thrill—it was all part of him, just like the motorcycle he rode like it was an extension of his soul.

But tonight, you just wanted a quiet moment, a brief respite from the chaos that seemed to follow him everywhere. As if sensing your thoughts, the bell above the diner door jingled, and Jason walked in, his eyes immediately locking onto yours.

"Sorry, babe," he muttered, sliding into the booth across from you. He ran a hand through his dark hair, which was slightly tousled from the ride. "Things got…complicated."

You nodded, not needing the details. His life was a series of complications, one after another. "It's okay," you replied, forcing a smile. "You're here now."

Jason reached across the table, his hand enveloping yours. His touch was rough, calloused from years of fighting, but it was a touch you’d grown to love. He was more than the violence, more than the rage that simmered just beneath the surface. With you, he tried to be softer, tried to be the man he didn’t always believe he could be.

"You don’t have to wait up for me, y’know," he said, a rare softness in his voice. "But I’m glad you do."

"Someone has to make sure you don’t do anything stupid," you teased, squeezing his hand gently.

He smirked, that familiar cocky grin spreading across his face. "Stupid? Me? Never."

You rolled your eyes, but your heart swelled with affection. This was how it always was with Jason—banter and bravado, but beneath it all, a deep connection that words often failed to capture.

The waitress brought over two cups of coffee, and Jason wasted no time taking a long sip. The warmth of the diner was a stark contrast to the chilly Gotham night outside, and for a moment, it felt like you two were the only ones in the world.

"I was thinking," Jason began, his tone more serious now, "about getting out of the city for a while. Just you and me. I know this place isn’t exactly a vacation spot."

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. Jason wasn’t the type to suggest something like that. He was tied to Gotham in a way that was almost impossible to break. "Where would we go?"

"Does it matter?" He leaned back in the booth, the idea of escape shining in his eyes. "Somewhere with open roads, no one else around. Just us. I could use a break from all this." He gestured vaguely, meaning Gotham, the life he led, the dangers that never ceased.

You smiled, the thought of escaping with him, even if just for a little while, was tempting. "Sounds like a plan, Jay."

"Good," he said, finishing his coffee and standing up. "Because I’m not giving you a choice."

He pulled you up, wrapping an arm around your waist as you exited the diner. The cool air hit you immediately, but Jason’s warmth by your side was enough to keep you from shivering. His bike was waiting, sleek and powerful, just like him.

"Hop on," he said, tossing you the helmet you always used when riding with him.

You didn’t hesitate. As you wrapped your arms around his waist, the engine roared to life, and the city blurred into a mass of lights and shadows as Jason sped off into the night. With him, there was always danger, always uncertainty, but there was also love—a love that burned fiercely, like the engine beneath you, carrying you both toward whatever fate had in store.

[batchilla]

Fata Morgana Chapter one: A Favor Given.

Content warning for some … outdated views on women. Don’t worry, you can fix him.

The tournament of Fata Morgana brought with it all the excitement of a tournament, but given it fell so close to the annual Festival of Cupid, it held more still. For as well as the honour of victory, a gold purse and acclaim, the winner was given a crown of roses, to give to any maiden he saw fit to choose, and to open the Ball of Cupid by sharing a dance with said maiden. Captain Jason Todd, the knight of Arkham, had won the past three years, and each year, the same maiden had been given the crown.

You.

You, the princess, and only daughter of the king of a small yet ambitious nation. You, who while understanding that your affection for the hero of the battle of Arkham, the captain of your personal guard, could never be fully realised or acted upon. You, who had the last three years watched him compete with baited breath hoping to dance with him once more. You, who after he had first presented you the crown three years hence, had given him a favour the next two years. You, who on the eve of his fourth tournament, are sneaking down to where the competitors have pitched their tents around the competition field, to do so once more.

The air is warm, crickets and the nickering of horses punctuated by the occasional voice. They are stoic, not rowdy or drunken, that will come tomorrow when the contest is over. Tonight, the sense of anticipation and solemn preparation lingers over the field. You find his tent with relative ease, it’s blood red fabric near black in the darkness, but his steed is tied outside and pays you little mind as you hesitate outside the tent flap. There had been no hesitation when you slipped past your guards. No hesitation in deciding to come here. Still, you hesitate now, when the only thing separating you from him is canvas, struck with nerves over what exactly you would say to him.

Your stalling is ended by the tent's flap opening to reveal the Knight of Arkham standing there, staring you down looking less than impressed. Your mouth goes dry as the desert.

He stands there in loose pants, and a white shirt with the top eyelets undone to just above the lowest point of his pectoral muscles. His hair is mused and out of order. You feel your breath catch, and it is only your lifelong etiquette lessons that prevent you from doing something completely humiliating and degenerate like bite your lip. Granted you saw him nearly every day, but there was something about seeing him out of plate, seeming so much himself rather than maintaining stoic professionalism.

“Your royal highness, you ought not be here so late - and where is your guard? God preserve me…” He runs a hand through his hair in frustration.

You try not to stare at the way the action causes his arms to move and flex, or how soft his hair seems. Instead, you force yourself to look him in the eyes, and reply.

“All is well, surely. These tents are filled with knights. Men of honour. I am perfectly safe.” You speak softly, so as not to draw attention to your presence, despite what you verbally claim, you know full well that being undiscovered will better serve you.

Captain Todd-Wayne opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again. Sighs. You suppress an urge to smile, practically able to see his mind working on how to respond to that without offending your feminine sensibilities.

“Your Highness while your father’s knights - myself included - would of course never consider harming you, the matter persists you are without escort.”

You bat your eyes, as if the thought hadn’t occurred to you. “You are the captain of my guard, and have acted as my escort a great many times.”

His jaw clenches, and he makes no attempt to rebut the statement. “Who was meant to be guarding your door this evening?” He asks tiredly.

“Sir West.” You supply.

“Well. Rest assured that by sundown tomorrow he shall be thoroughly reprimanded for allowing this to happen.” He says, anger brewing under his carefully stoic features.

You sigh, but do not argue. You came for a reason, and you will not be distracted by his ire in your goals accomplishment.

You reach into your pocket, and produce a thick, blood red ribbon of finest velvet.

You hold it out, and he takes it, carefully not touching your hand, but where the ribbon hangs from your fingers.

“Best of luck in the morrow.” You say softly. You hope he understands what you really mean. What you cannot say.

You hope he knows you love him.

You turn back into the night before he can respond, the soft look of awe on his face, though the same each year, too great a source of pain and longing for you to take.

___________________________________________

Later that night, Jason lays on the temporary bed in his tent, staring at the ceiling as he idly runs the ribbon through each digit, feeling its weight, its softness. He slides it through his fingers, pulling it through and winding between each with his opposite hand. He closes his eyes and his breath shakes as he recalls its owner. Imagines it in her hair, tying it up, exposing her neck and …No. No. No.

He clenches his hand into a fist, his eyes snapping open. He was a knight. Her Knight, Her protector.

He would not dishonour her with his perverse thoughts.

He refused to.

She had done him a great kindness, in extending her favour. Clearly she knew of his affections, given his actions at the three Tournaments of Fata Morgana past even a woman could deduce the truth of his pathetic circumstance.

It was a great kindness indeed that she allowed him to indulge, one night a year in an unreciprocated fantasy, even feeding into it with this, the most generous of gifts.

Fata Morgana. An illusion. How terribly fitting, his lone solace, the one mercy he allowed his starved soul. To dance with her, once a year. To lay the wreath of roses in her hair, and pretend he was more. That he was worthy.

That he was not the second, adopted, common son of his father. That he hadn’t been sent off to be a squire so young that the Wayne estate no longer felt like home. That he had risen to his honoured rank of his position because he deserved it.

They’d said he was. The king had called him a hero. The people called him a legend. It would not surprise anyone if his story outlived him three generations. Jason Todd, the hero of the battle of Arkham. He had rallied his men, and turned what should have been a massacre into an unparalleled victory, but when the screams fell silent and the dust settled, he had disappeared. He had been declared dead. Turned into a martyr. A fallen hero.

Until he had been found in the woods of the Al Ghul estate, with no memory of who he was or how he came to be there, six months later.

The greatest of healers had helped his mind return - but what happened to him in the lost six months escaped him still.

His Father had asked him to recover at the Wayne estate. He had refused. He said it was duty. It was. But not to his king. It was duty to her, and to his heart. He had not spoken to his father since.

He knew she surely saw only a knight. How could she see more, given how little he was? A knight pinning after her to be sure, but not one she would seriously consider as a marriage prospect. He was not heir, afterall. He was not respected, he was a novelty. A fearsome novelty.

Sleep finds him eventually, a merciful reprieve from his spiralling consciousness. Only to take him away to the same nightmare he has had each night since his return.

That flash of sky, of rocks ascending skyward, the smell of salt and of decay. Pain. Nothing.

[castrianamore]

Bitter, Had the Heart

DC X Danny Phantom Crossover

Chapter 1: to see or to mistake

TW: Graphic depictions of Corpses, Mutilation, vile smells

Tim Drake was a brilliant Detective. He was a shareholder of Wayne Enterprises. Middle child of the family really. He was working on his degree in business at Gotham U, as expected. He also excelled, as expected. Nothing could have prepared him for this, though. I’m all his years of detective work nothing was quite this gruesome, this brutal. This slow.

A horrified terror filled expression struck across two gang member’s faces. Their deceased bodies had entrails splayed over the alley and he held a rag over his nose and mouth at the smell. It wasn’t just the decay setting into the bones and souls. It smelled like rotten eggs, sulfur. Mixed with the metallic scent of iron and blood and disgust.

Nightwing landed next to him.

“Oo that’s not pretty,”the man whispered. “Damn that stinks.” Time handed over a rag to his elder brother who very gladly put it over his nose.

“You’re telling me. This is one of the more brutal and gruesome cases I’ve seen in a while…” Tim was trying to take in what he could from below. They had to have been tortured alive as they had their entrails removed, at least most of the other rogue’s in Gotham made their subject’s deaths quick, even if painful but these? This was a new breed of brutal and horrific.

Tim was frustrated. He was a fucking detective for gods sake.

“How many is this now?”Nightwing looked at his younger brother before back down at the bodies.

“8… I think we can classify this as a serial case right now,”he huffed. He pulled out a notepad writing things down.

Smell of sulfur.

Entrails spread out.

Claw marks on the walls.

Symbols written into the alleyway walls in the blood of the fallen.

Faces frozen in horror.

This was the 7th and 8th one and of course it was similar to the others. Smell of sulfur. Entrails spread out. Once they got the autopsy report back he high suspected the heart will have been removed and a bite being taken out of the kidney if there even was one.

“So Gotham has another mysterious serial killer whose signature is as gruesome and messy as the Joker’s entire existence.” Tim had been frustrated with this case since it started and he was beyond grateful for the help. A lot of the bats were in on the case at some point. Duke had been trying to do Daytime recon. Tim and Dick were keeping up with police investigation, namely Dick who claimed he was coming from Bludhaven to help with the case. Got them both the inside information.

Bruce and Damian were trying to track down anything and it had been all hands on deck to keep a watchful eye on the city. Cass and Steph were off-planet apparently dealing with something from the covert ops team of Young Justice. Barb was doing her best to play eyes as she kept an eye on the various cctv footage around the city, but Gotham was big and there was always crime to attend too.

Tim was stretched thin himself. He normally had shareholder meetings in the mornings at least once a week, sometimes twice, and after that it was to his college classes. Tim had college, patrols, the company. Fuck. Let alone the occasional charity galas and other events he had to go to not only as a wayne but as a head of the company as a whole.

Tim was running on fumes as this case was running him dry. That was another reason why Dick was in town to lessen the load on Tim. He liked college and he knew that he wan’t exactly the most social person let alone the most normal(look at his job?) but he did want to do things sometimes with his friends. Though, he was sure his ‘friends’ probably wouldn’t be around for super long. Having mundane friends outside of super hero life was hard, let alone a romantic relationship. He had tried with the other heroes. He had tried with civilians but the civilians just couldn’t understand the time necessary and the excuses he was going to have to make.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to pursue a romantic relationship but it just simply felt as if he had no choice but to not. Wow, he was tired if hid mind was going off on it’s own separate tangent in mind distracting him from the task at hand. Speaking of…

A small flash of one of the police’s camera’s caught him off guard. Unbeknownst to the group a man in black tech wear with white accents and a mask pulled over his nose was crouched by the body. Hands gloves and a hood up over barely visible black hair. He was taking a sample it seemed of, what was that? How did he not notice that?

There was a green viscous liquid and he just collected it, not just an incredibly small amount, but what was on the body at all. It reminded him far too much of Lazarus water for his liking, but if someone had poured gelatin in it.

“Wing,”Time stated wide-eyed at him.

“I see.”

“We have eyes on a potential suspect,”Tim called over coms.

“Do not engage, follow,”Batman’s words echoed back to him. Duh. They wanted information on the dude. The two backed into the darkness a little more as soon as the police-men turned around he was gone. Tim and Dick watched his foot catch on the ledging as he climbed onto the roof of the building pulling down his hood and looking around. Eyes covered by a pair of goggles that were a stunning and haunting green color. Then it seemed he spotted the bats even from their vantage point, and as soon as they noticed. The man took off running.

“Shit!” Tim exclaimed, moving to jump onto the roof to pursue .

“Red! No engaging!”

“I’ve been following this shit for months, I’ve never been then close to a lead Nighty!” He exclaimed moving to follow.

“Language! But, really?!?” Nightwing followed after time the two moving with ease.

“Stop!!!” He yelled at the black masked figure who merely cocked his head to the side running backwards for a moment before jumping across to the next roof doing a roll. Experienced in parkour at least as Tim and Dick followed suit. Fuck he was fast.

“We need to corner him,”Dick hissed.

“Don’t tell B…”

“Don’t tell B what?”Dick replied before Tim threw two batarangs at his target.

“Red!” Dick exclaimed as the man dropped sliding on his knees to avoid the first one but as he got up the second one hit his leg. Bullseye. The person tripped holding his leg for a moment. A small grunt of pain could be heard as he scooted away from the two of them. The way their face was covered left no idea what thoughts crossed their mind. Nightwing landed next to Red as they stared at the man backing up against the wall to the roof.

“Don’t make us hurt you anymore. Tell us what you were removing from that crime scene,”Red threatened, grabbing his bo staff off his belt and letting it unfurl. The person shook their head as they used the short wall to stand up limping heavily. They weren’t incredibly close to the ground at the moment. At minimum a solid 8 stories high.

Pretty far up Tim would say. Which made the next move shake him. The man looked at them and slowly shook his head and by the time they both realized what they were doing their hearts broke. They gave him a farewell salute with two fingers and fell backwards off the edge of the building and neither himself nor Hightwing could catch him in time. Both running desperately to the edge wide eyed with panic.

It wouldn’t have been the first time someone had committed suicide to escape them. Tim doubted it would be the last either. Fate had it out for them in that way. Fate had it out for them in a lot of ways as Tim would find out over the course of events.

Though they never heard a smack against concrete as they rushed to the side, nor a scream of terror. So when they looked into the alley way the man wasn’t there anymore. Dick and him quickly using grappling hooks to get down.

“What the…”

“Where did he—“

“Infrared?” Dick suggested they both moved to look around them. Just the coldness of the alleyways and setting mid January weather. It was freezing in this alleyway.

“Is that a bed?”Dick pointed out the small campaign at the very back of the alley. A few cardboard boxes set up as a table with a few remains set there. Messy soaked sheets sat on top a cardboard bed with a messy pillow half destroyed it seemed

“Of course it’s a bad.” voice drawing them both out from their mission. “I never thought this would be the way I finally run into Two bats. You’re in front of my sleeping spot.”

They looked up to see a young man(teenager?) he only stood about 5’3. He was bundled up with a hoodie and a black trench coat over it. A soft blue scarf wrapped around his neck, hands shoved into his pockets with piercing blue eyes and ruffled black hair being held down by the matching blue beanie. He looked cold and from the infrared sensors on him the man was abnormally cold compared to most normal humans. A metà Maybe?

He had deep tired circles under his eyes. Skin far too pale to be healthy and a guant looks to his cheeks. His clothing almost just draping off his thin frame. He looked like he was very very sick if Tim could guess.

“Sorry for intruding, then,”Dick spoke up walking in front of him. Giving him a nod that he saw it too. “Did you happen to see a man fall from what roof?”

The man shifted and looked concerned Tim’s eyes looking of his shoulders, eyes, lips. Trying to pick up any subtle mico expressions.

“I just got back from classes, man,”The man sighs rubbing his forehead. “I’m half asleep and running 3 red bulls and a pack of saltine crackers.”

“Can we ask where you’re coming from?”Dick gave a charming gentle smile.

“The library.”

“I see, well we’re looking for a man dressed in all black with goggles with bright green lenses and black hair. He was sporting tech wear. You can give the police a call if you see anything?” Tim pulled out one of Greyson’s cards after he spoke. “We’re working with Detective Greyson at the moment for any leads so you can call the precinct if you see anything.”

The man took the card tossing it over his shoulder.

“ACAB, so can I sleep now? Or are we going to be playing a fun little game of 20 questions with me being the epicenter of the bats hyperfixations.”

“Ah… no, not at all. Have good night,”Dick stated as Tim was trying not to laugh as the man grabbing him grappling them up onto the roof. It was silent as they got a few blocks away before Tim burst out laughing.

“He just…”another laugh,”YEET!” Mimicking the card being thrown over his shoulder.

“That kid is suspicious.” Dick huffed maybe a little salty his normal charms didn’t work on him.

“He’s sassy not suspicious.”

“But his body temperature was—“

“He’s probably a meta Nightwing. Don’t tell the bats that you’re a meta, remember? It’s kind of Batman’s whole reason for keeping the city the way that it is, to protect metas.”

“You’re right.”

“I know. The kid looked exhausted the only thing I picked up from him was that he was beyond annoyed that he had to wait a second longer to go to bed. It’s,”he paused to look at his wrist. “2am.” A pause. If we was a student the mostly likely place he would have been would be the library. Even if you were walking from Gotham U library or a cafe it wouldn’t have taken you two hours to get where they were.” The library and most cafes closed at 11 or midnight.

“What did you realize? You’re smile fell.”

“The university library closes at midnight.”

“Okay and?”

“And this part of town is only a 45 minute walk from the library.”

“Is he our culprit they both have black hair. Could be especially if he’s a Meta explain why he was able to get away from us so fast.”

“I doubt it, that kid looked… sickly to say the least, but he was definitively hiding something.”

“So what was he hiding that he didn’t want the bats to know?

By the time they made it back to the alleyway the mysterious kid was gone.

“Dammit!”Tim exclaimed. This case was frustrating. Everything was going wrong.

“Look we at least know one thing right?” Dick was trying to make light of the situation. “He goes to Gotham U.”

“Dick.. we’re going to find hundreds of people who fall under the broad category. Let’s search “Black hair blue eyes” into the student database and see how many we come up. Let alone the fact that black might not be his natural hair color.”

“Hood could find him…”

“No, Hood has enough on his plate with these murders finding a homeless kid is not part of the problem at hand. The dude didn’t hurt anyone.”

“But if we run into him again,”Dick stared at the quickly disassembled bed the few ratty sheets now gone. “Do you think we could get him to the hospital for some help? Meta or not his readings were… rough.”

“We can’t force people into getting help all the time. It’s one thing for rogue’s who are more than a little insane but a guy who’s sick in the alley way?” Tim shook his head with a sigh rubbing the back of his neck. “We’d be chasing after half of Gotham.”

Tim rubbed his forehead a little frustrated with the general turn of events going on right now. Why couldn’t he get a lead on this fucker. He doubted that googles person would be much help. They looked like an investigator themself but at this point it was a lead and Tim was desperate. Each murder was more gruesome than the last like they were pushing their victims and themselves every time they did it. It had to have been a beast right?

“We need to find the masked person…”

“Yeah no I agree. Whatever they pulled off the body they were looking for that. They knew it would be there.”

“Think he’s the murderer?”

“Probably not, but they seem to know more than us which is concerning in its own right.”

“Not wrong there little bird.” Dick sighed. “We should leave. Head back to the cave.”

“Best, I have too many classes in the morning.”

“You have coffee addiction, you’ll be fine.” Dick smirked as they started back towards the cave moving to write a report of what they encountered on their patrol.

“You trying to feed my coffee addiction?”

“Absolutely not, B might kill me with that one,”Dick snorted.

It wasn’t as if Tim could sleep even as they got back to the manor to crash for night after writing their reports. He remained long after Dick had gone to get some sleep. Eyes focused on the screen and then down at his drawing in front of him. A rough sketch of the new person of interest.

Those eerie glowing goggles were stained into his mind as he leaned back in his chair looking at the file they had created for him.

Name: Unknown

Age: Unknown

Height:5’3 ~

Weight: 115-130lbs~

Appearance: Black hair in black tech wear and a respirator over his mouth and glowing green lensed goggles. White motifs along the outfit with a white D symbol over the left side of the chest.

Status: Unknown

Alignment: Unknown

All these unknowns. How were they supposed to figure it out. He had to meet this person again. He had to find them. He didn’t have a choice. This person was a key in his case. He sent a text to Jason.

“Keep an eye out for a guy that roughly looks like this” He sent an attachment of the drawing he did of the rough outfit in greyscale and what he saw.

“Oh… I know that dude. The people called him Distortion.”

What?

Jason knew of him? How did?

“How?” Cue Tim’s annoyed thoughts at how Jason didn’t care to share this information with them. Any of them. “And you didn’t think a new body on the streets who has a name wasn’t something you wanted to share with the class?!?”

More little bubbles as he was typing.

“He belongs to me that’s all you need to know. He’s an associate. A valuable acquaintance.”

“Well your associate was found removing evidence from my crime scene and bolting.”

“Need to know basis, Tim.”

“Do you know his identity?”

“No.”

“Age?”

“Yes.”

“Can i have it?”

“Absolutely not. He doesn’t want to be involved with the Bats or on your radar. I’d advise deleting the file you’re creating on him. He doesn’t take well to being on record right now.”

“Why?”

“Don’t know Don’t care but he’s incredibly useful and I’d like to keep him on our side and he was very hesitant on even coming to me. He only came to me because he’s operating out of my territory.”

“At least the guy has some respect.”

“He has street smarts. Now back off Tim. You know I let you in on a lot and that’s why I’m telling you this, but him? Distortion? Let him do his thing. If he tells me anything I’ll let you know.”

“What do you get out of this?”

“An investigator.”

“You have us?”

“Not all crime is big enough to involve the bats. Not all crime I can do all the work for for myself. He helps me out locating information and in exchange I leave him the fuck alone.”

Tim stared at the texts.

More typing bubbles.

“You tell Dick, Damian, or especially Bruce about this and I will rat you out for the Yelen case.”

Tim would be silent after all…

He stared at his doodle, ripping it up. It looked like shit anyways. He rubbed his face frustrated really as he made no changes to the file. Dick didn’t have to know about what he knew. This felt wrong to him though. Not just the whole Jason apparently knowing of the guy. If Jason knew of the guy but he remained under the radar of the rest of the bats it was concerning, and even as close as he was to Jason he wouldn’t put it past that guy to keep his issues to himself.

He always thought of himself really. First and foremost. It had been that way since his return mostly. It wasn’t like he never tried. Birthdays and holidays he’d show up. Tim wasn’t going to like that he noticed the mans change in demeanor the past year had done for him. A decrease in murders Jason committed in Crime Alley.

It was subtle enough unless you were looking for it, it wouldn’t be noticed, but tim did. Tim did notice. It reminded him of that breakdown he had a while ago. The anger returning to his brother like it had been there all along slowly increasing. The pit madness returning with a full force nearly driving Jason away from everyone. Jason wouldn’t talk about why the pit madness hit him so hard again.

He wasn’t exactly a feelings guy. None of them were. Dick was the most open of the Bat siblings to openly talk about their emotions and hell Duke had the most normal of a life before it all. Even he was hesitant. They all saw the Black Canary at least once every 6 months and that was only after a begrudging agreement with Black Lightning and the rest of the justice league. Most of they, themselves, weren’t involved in the justice league.

It was also why Cass and Steph being asked to go seemed to set him off. It wasn’t his place.

“He belongs to me..” Tim whispered out the words with a slight possessive tome looking at their texts chewing on his lip a little. A small habit he picked up when he was lost in thought and alone. Usually only when he was relaxed and with family. He couldn’t let people read his microexpressions out in public.

“For a solitary man, that’s quite a possessive statement Jason,”he mumbled into the batcave before standing up and walking up the stairs to his room. Not that he got much sleep either.

[cablecar-s]

to love and self loathe

Note :

I also have an AO3 if you guys wanted to check it out 👉👈. It's just tlsl again (it's like two chapters ahead but I plan to post the rest of the chapters here too, just thought I would share it somewhere else :]).

Reblogs and likes help a lot as well! Enjoy reading!

part 1

And Make It Double

Jason wasn't fond of going to the Batcave often. Hell he didn't like going to Wayne Manor at all. It only meant that he had to see the others. Even though he was able to reconcile with everyone, it didn't mean that it wasn't still awkward to interact with them all. 

But whatever it was that he found in that alleyway couldn't be ignored. So, instead of heading to the batcave where he has to face everyone, he instead links his comms with Barbara.

"You there Oracle?" His voice, distorted from the voice modulator installed in his helmet called out.

"Oracle here, need something Red Hood?" Her voice called back. 

A hint of a smile appeared on his lips, a bit of nostalgia and reminiscence washing over him for a moment.

"I have a bit of a problem here." Jason looked over at the knocked out men, strung together with the mysterious webs.

"Do you need backup?" She questioned.

He shook his head, though she couldn't see it. "No, just a concern if anything. Found a few guys strung together what seemed to be.. Spider webs? I don't fuckin' know." 

It went quiet for a moment, Jason looking around, making sure no one was going to jump him. 

"Found something." She hummed, earning Jason's attention. "Couldn't find anything spider related in Gotham, but there's a vigilante in New York that goes by Spider-Woman, could be that."

The second Robin's brows furrowed. "The hell is she doing in Gotham?" 

"No clue, but reading through the latest news it says that she's been gone for a few months already, after defeating some guy named Green Goblin." Her eyes quickly skimmed through the article.

"Is she trouble?" He questions, his attention being pulled towards one of the men who were beginning to wake up.

"The Daily Bugle says she is.." She trailed. "Though from other sources people are calling her a hero. Lot of mixed opinions about her from New Yorkers. She's done nothing bad though." 

Jason only hummed, taking his gun out before hitting the waking criminal in the back of his head with the butt of his gun, knocking the guy out once more.

"No crimes or anything? What about suspicious movements before her disappearance?" He asked further.

Barbara let out a small hum. "Nope. She had been terrorizing a few criminals who all had similar characteristics for some time, but that was in the beginning of her first appearance. And after she defeated the Green Goblin she disappeared after that night."

"Revenge." Jason thought out loud to himself, that was the only conclusion he could come to. "Think she came to Gotham to see if she could find the guy here?" 

"Doubt it. It's been a few years already, I'm sure she's over it by now."

Jason also doubted that she was over it, he would know; he was dead set on revenge for seven years. A grimace appeared on his face, seeming to stare into nothingness, remembering how he was before he was barely able to reconcile with Bruce and the others.

"You still there Red Hood?" Barbara called out, breaking him out of his small trance.

"Uh, yeah, sorry, just thinking." He muttered. "Call GCPD over to pick these guys up. They're in one of the alleys on 41st street."

"On it." 

Taking out his grappling hook, Jason flew off into the night, still linked with Barbara. 

"What do you want to do with Spider-Woman?"

"Lets keep an eye out for her, we still don't know her motives for coming to Gotham." Jason swung from building to building, beginning to feel water droplets fall on his body, the rain of Gotham finally coming for the night.

"Alright, I'll notify the others about her now."

"Sounds good, thanks Oracle." He perched himself on one of the gargoyles that were built on one of the many buildings of Gotham, about to hang up til—

"Hey Jace." Barbara called out softly.

Oh god. Jason already knew what Barbara was going to ask him, it made his throat close up a bit, his heart rate beginning to pick up.

"Ye-ah?" 

Of course his voice had to fucking crack.

"Will you be coming to the mansion to celebrate Damian's birthday next week?"

Jason stayed silent for a moment. Of course he was going to go, he had already bought the demon brat's present a few days ago, it was just a matter of gaining the confidence to step foot in Wayne Manor.

"Still there Jason?" She called out. 

Crap he took too long. 

"Oh, yeah. Yeah I'll– I'll be coming." He cleared his throat, his eyes scanning into the streets of Crime Alley. 

"Okay, just double checking." He could hear the smile in her voice. "Everyone'll be excited to see you, don't sweat it." She assured him. "Need anything else before I go back to the others?" 

He swallowed hard, trying to retain whatever cool he had left. "No, I'm fine."

"Alright, Oracle out." 

Her voice crackled before leaving the line, which left Jason alone with his thoughts.

God he was so not ready for next week

---

The next night, Jason had kept a sharp eye out for this Spider-Woman Barbara had told him about. He'd done a bit of digging himself. He watched a few videos that a few civilians had taken of her. He studied her fighting style, what she looked like. 

Of course, he tried to find out who this Spider-Woman was in the first place, but it seemed no one had any clues as to who she was. 

It's fine though. It's not like Jason was actively searching as to who she was, he just needed to make sure she stayed out of his way, out of Gotham's business.

Swinging from building to building once more, Jason kept his eyes on the alleys and small streets before deciding to land on the roof of a building. His boots crunched under the gravel when landing, a more softer crunch sounding behind him.

"Todd." The young voice called out.

A voice he knew all too well.

"Demon bird." Jason greeted. 

"I am told that you will be making it to the gathering." Damian stood next to his older brother, looking down at the city with him.

"If you mean your birthday party then yeah." The second Robin couldn't help but roll his eyes a bit. "Just not the big one B will be holding. Y'know, still dead and stuff." 

The youngest Robin could only suck his teeth. "Not like you were needed there anyways." He muttered.

Jason glanced over at the pre-teen, a small smile on his lips as he brought his hand up to ruffle his hair. He could spot his tough guy act from miles away, he and Damian were two sides of the same coin after all. 

"Sorry, someone's gotta keep Gotham safe while all the bats and birds are out partying for the night." He chuckled.

Damian only swatted at Jason's hand, grumbling to himself. 

"I do not care if you come or not." He muttered.

Jason couldn't help but smile slightly at this, pulling his hand back.

"Whatever you say."

Damian opened his mouth, ready to make a retort, but he only sucked his teeth once more, his hand going up to his ear.

"Robin present."

There was a brief silence, the young Robin seeming to be listening to what was being said to him. "Understood." He muttered.

"I am needed at a warehouse." He looked up at his older brother who only nodded, seeming looking down at the streets.

"Alright. See you later." Jason's eyes were glued on a woman who seemed to be in a hurry, a few plastic bags hanging from her arms. From afar, he saw a few men stalking her a few feet away.

He began to make his way down to her, standing behind her in the shadows. She didn't seem to have noticed him just yet, seeming distracted with trying to take a picture of the Robin flying above her.

Though as she takes a step back and bumps into his chest, she slowly turned around, taking notice of the vigilante that towered over her.

Jason squinted his eyes behind his helmet as her phone let out a soft click and the flash had gone off.

His helmet scanned her body, a small box popping at the top right, showing him that her heart rate had slightly quickened, not surprising.

"You do know you make a pretty easy target with all those bags you're holding." He spoke, his voice distorted as usual.

"Good thing I was making my way home then." She chuckled nervously. 

She had stared at where his eyes were supposed to be, only to then look away, her heart rate rising even more.

"I'll go with you then, unless you want them to take you instead." He nodded his head behind her, making her turn her head and see the men.

Jason took a step into the dim street lighting and stared straight at them, making the men quickly scatter, not wanting to be involved with the infamous Red Hood.

"Oh uh, no that won't be necessary." She let out another nervous laugh. "My apartment isn't that far from here and uh..." She glanced up at the Red Hood before quickly looking away, intimidated by his large build and towering body.

It was quiet, Jason staring her down. He couldn't lie she was acting a bit suspicious, though then again it could be her being frightened since it was Red Hood who was standing in front of her.

"You're not serious are you?" He finally spoke out. "Gotham's filled with criminals, and no offense, I'm sure you're capable of defending yourself, but you're a woman. You're better off with me walking you home." He crossed his arms, shifting his weight onto one leg.

He was right. Although she could handle a few thugs, she didn't bring her web shooters with her this time. If any of them decided to pull a gun on her, it was most likely over.

The secret vigilante stayed quiet, biting the inside of her cheek, trying to think of something else to say, just so she didn't have to interact anymore with the more scarier of vigilantes she's looked up. 

"Uh well.." She cleared her throat, looking up at him, trying her best to calm her racing heart, her senses heightening from her anxiety. 

She thought hard, looking at the man who stared at her, waiting for a reply from her. Her brain did it's hardest to rack something up, until she remembered all the news she's read about him.

Bingo.

"Wouldn't it be more dangerous if you were to walk with me?" She questioned, giving him an innocent smile.

He tilted his head a bit at this. "Is that so?"

The spider quickly nodded, her smile ever growing a tiny bit more larger at her quick thinking. "If you think about it, if people on the street were to see you walking me to my apartment wouldn't that technically endanger me even more? Since, y'know, you are the big bad Red Hood. I'm sure you have plenty of enemies that want your head."

Her hands moved around a bit as she talked, Jason only watching and listening to her ramble in slight amusement.

"And if they were to see you walking me home then they can only think that I'm some sort of weakness for you, which, I'm really not but hey they don't know." She chuckled, looking up at him.

Her long pause made the air almost seem a bit awkward for her, making her shift a bit. Letting out another laugh, she cleared her throat once more, straightening her posture a bit.

"So.. Thank you, truly. But I think I'll be just fine going home without an escort." She smiled, trying not to squirm under his gaze.

"Alright." He hummed, setting his hands on his waist. 

She blinked, looking a bit baffled. "Really?" She sputtered, before quickly changing her expression, the tone of her voice changing as well. "I mean– Of course! It's only right that you—"

"I'll just watch you from the rooftops instead."

"I'm sorry?"

A distorted huff of amusement filled her ears as the two vigilantes stared at each other. 

"You're right that me walking you home would only but yourself in more danger, but leaving you to go home by yourself also puts you at risk still, so," Jason grabbed his grapple from his utility belt. 

"I'll escort you from afar." 

Jason's amusement only rose as he watched the woman open and close her mouth, trying to form words or another excuse as to why he shouldn't do that.

Seeing as how she wasn't able to come up with anything else, a low and short chuckle left his mouth.

"Well lets get going then. The faster you start walking the faster you'll be out of danger." He pointed his grapple at a building, his finger beginning to press the trigger.

"You really don't—" But he was already flying into the air and back into the shadows. 

She could only watch in disbelief, staring in the direction that he had flown off to. If she squinted hard enough, she could somewhat see his silhouette perched on a rooftop. 

She strained to see him wave a hand at her, most likely motioning her to get back to her apartment. Letting out a small huff of irritation, she began to walk into the direction of her apartment, muttering under her breath.

It was total silence while walking back to her apartment. Although she would spot a few thugs eyeing her from alleys, once they heard the sound of a grapple and a shadow passing over them, they quickly minded their business, as if she wasn't there.

The woman was thankful to say the least, especially since she was able to get herself out of a situation that may have ended up in her having a brawl with the vigilante. Just looking at him made her entire body ache. 

Even if that radioactive spider had increased all her senses and strength, she was sure that man could pummel her into the ground without having to do much.

Continuing to walk through the dimly lit streets, she soon made it to her apartment building, relief flooding in her body that she was finally home. Before entering the building, she looked over her shoulder, her eyes scanning the shadows, trying to see if she could spot the Red Hood.

Surprisingly, for a big guy who had a helmet that was completely red, he was good at hiding in the darkness. 

Giving up in her search in finding him, she made her way inside, the warm air from the heater engulfing her body once entering. 

Off in the distance, Jason watched as the woman made her way inside. With crossed arms, he watched all of the windows of the building, waiting patiently until he noticed one of them had lit up.

Letting out a short hum, he jumped off the roof, grappling to the next one and so forth, continuing his night patrol.

---

Jason quickly put his jacket on, not caring if his hair was still a bit wet. Grabbing his keys he had tossed onto the coffee table, he scooped his helmet into his arms before roughly shoving it onto his head. Slamming the door that led to the garage of his safe house, he pressed a simple button that made it creak and groan as it lifted itself off of the ground.

Getting on his bike, the two wheeler roared to life, the sounds echoing in the garage as he sped out, the doors slamming itself shut once Jason was out. Speeding through the streets, passing by cars at a speed too fast, Jason had hoped that he wouldn't be too late for the brat's formal birthday.

Jason wasn't fond of any of the parties that Bruce either attended or hosted. The room that it was being held in always reeked of tacky perfume and cologne, just like every person there trying to please Bruce.

A bunch of ass kissers that irritated Jason. He was sure Damian thought the same, so he thought making a small appearance would make it slightly better, even if it costed him drowning in old lady perfumes.

When he had made it to the Batcave and tried to sneak his way through the halls of the manor, he had a small run in with his favorite, and only, butler. After a small catch up, and a bit of coaxing from the butler, Jason ended up having to attend the party without his gun.

Taking a deep breath, Jason entered the ballroom having to squeeze his way through a few people in order to make himself comfortable in a corner.

With his back leaning against the wall, he crossed his arms and scanned the room before it landed on Damian; his cheeks were currently being pinched and pulled at by a few elderly ladies. 

Jason couldn't help but slightly snort at the scene, amused at how deadly a glare Damian was giving them when they looked away from him.

"Jaybird!"

Jason's smile instantly disappeared at the resounding voice of his older brother. A bright smile on his face, he waved at the second Robin, having grabbed to champagne glasses on his way over to him.

People glanced at Dick, whispering to one another about the eldest, their eyes soon dragging over to Jason who shifted uncomfortably.

Just fucking great.

"I see you were able to make it." Dick grinned, lending out the other glass of alcohol to him. Jason only snatched it from him, letting out a small grumble while taking a small sip.

"And I'm starting to regret it." He grimaced.

The first Robin only chuckled at this, taking his own sip from his glass. "You see Damian yet?" He questioned, eyes staring out into the crowd to find the youngest.

"I was, but then I saw that he was a bit busy so I decided to leave him be." He hummed.

Once finding Damian, Dick couldn't help but snicker a bit now knowing what Jason meant. "He is the star of the show." He mused. "Hey, you don't think—"

BOOM!

"No one make any sudden moves! Or the brat gets it!" 

part 1

next chapter ->

[lambsouvlaki]

For the Hell of It - Yearning (continued)

Characters: jason todd x fem!oc

Rating and warnings: G, no warnings

Summary: jason comes home from patrol and finds her sleeping on his couch. Squabbles over who gets to sleep on the bed ensues.

Masterlist

————

A little after three in the morning Jason finished his patrol.

He swung up to his apartment level and let himself in through the window. Wet and cold and aching all over, he disabled the security, then climbed in. The warmth enveloped him. Despite himself his shoulders relaxed.

The rain smudged lights of the city shone through the windows and gently played upon her face where she slept on the couch.

He had spent the entire patrol berating himself for enjoying the domesticity of having Andy as a house guest, the way she had seen him off, and would surely be there when he returned. With a queasy sort of dread it took him back to days of Alfred waiting back at the cave with a cup of hot cocoa with a stern smile to send him off to bed. Days he had missed once, but were now so far behind him that the image unsettled.

Seeing her safely asleep dissipated the confused sensation. She was wrapped up like a burrito in a green afghan Dick had successfully ambushed him with for his twenty second birthday, just her little pout peeking out at the top.

Jason had meant to tell her to take the bed, only he forgot. Damn.

He kept the lights off and walked silently through the house, taking off the leather jacket and top layer of armour as he went. He tended to the night's meager collection of injuries, then he opened his laptop at the dining table and typed out his report while everything was fresh in his mind. Last he did inventory and an assessment of the state of his gear, setting aside anything that needed maintenance for the morning.

Typically he would stay in his full armour for his post-patrol routine, but it felt wrong with Andy sleeping not six feet away, and since the heating was on he didn't mind working in his compression under-armour.

He hated being cold. A childhood with no reliable heating, followed by two winters on Gotham's streets had left their mark. But he hated wasting money even more, and the idea of leaving his heating on all night just for his own comfort when he came home was absurd. He just wore more layers instead. He could put up with it.

Andy shouldn't have to be cold though. That was unacceptable.

His fingers weren't as stiff in the warmth, and the low back pain he usually got around this time was nowhere to be found. He felt more limber all over.

He huffed and looked over at her. He could already hear the 'what if you didn't insist on having a bad time for no reason, idiot,' she would definitely say.

She looked achingly beautiful with only speckled golden light illuminating her against the velvety darkness of the night, like some kind of baroque painting. She shouldn't be on the couch. It wasn't comfortable. He considered how to rectify that, but felt weird about picking her up and moving her around while she was asleep.

With his work all wrapped up for the night, he had a shower and washed away Gotham's grime. He re-entered the living room in flannel pjs with a gust of steam.

Andy was sitting up. She looked around with sleepy, relaxed eyes. Her hair was a mess.

"Hey," he said

"Mm. Jason."

Oh yeah, she wasn't really awake awake. She was always adorably out of it when only just woken up. It took about twenty minutes for her usual cynicism or any filter to boot up. Before then she was a bastion of serenity, and happy to go along with just about anything. He'd slept on her couch a couple of times and been almost offended by the state of perfect zen she apparently woke up with just by default.

She was also extremely suggestible. Once he showed up at her place at four in the morning after a really bad patrol and asked if she wanted to go for a ride. Anyone else in his life would have started throwing blunt objects for waking them up. She yawned, slid on a coat, and hopped onto the back of his bike like it was all perfectly normal. What else should she be doing at the crack of dawn on a Sunday if not driving to the other side of the state, just to turn around and come straight back?

It made him defensive on her behalf. Her very sensible and risk-averse walls were so completely lowered like this that they may as well not exist. It made him want to double check the security system was working properly. Maybe go shoot her ex in the kneecaps, just to be safe.

"You can can take the bed. I'll sleep on the couch."

She blinked at him. She mustered up a pout, which was a novelty for her current state.

"You were on patrol. In the cold." She laid back down, disappearing from his view on the other side of the couch. "'M not takin' your bed."

Huh, apparently not that suggestible. He looked down over the back of the couch. She was snuggling back into her blanket, her eyes shut.

"Hey, no. Wake up. Off the couch."

An eye cracked open and looked up at him. "My couch." The eye drifted shut again.

"Really? This is where you draw the line? You let me talk you into giving me the only coffee in your house for no reason last time I stayed at your place."

"Your back hurts after patrols," she mumbled.

"I--how do you know that?"

"I don't know." She yawned, and pulled the blanket higher. "I'm very wise."

He rolled his eyes and circled the couch. "My back is fine. Can I prove it to you?

"Okay."

He leaned down, scooped her up, and lifted her into the air.

"Oh," she sighed, only briefly surprised. She curled up in his arms like a very large shrimp. "You're so strong."

"Yeah, sweetheart, I know," he drawled, carrying her to the bedroom.

"Makes me feel like a precious little thing when you pick me up."

He grinned down at her. Awake Andy was going to be very embarrassed later on.

"You are a precious little thing," he said. It was meant to be a sarcastic drawl. It didn't sound sarcastic at all. "Be less cute, you're ruining my rep."

She leaned against him and snuggled into his arms. Not for the first time he noticed how much she sank into his touch. He tried not to feel too interested in that.

"No i’m not," she said. "You're the big scary Red Hood and you don't make anyone feel safe, nu-uh."

His lips twisted to try and stop his smile. He stretched his arms out and dropped her onto his bed. She laughed, because of course she did, the menace, and promptly wriggled her way under the blankets. She was just about swallowed by his thick comforter, except for a rogue bare leg sticking out the side presumably for heat regulation.

Belatedly she frowned up at him. "Hey. Hang on."

"Too late now. May as well go back to sleep," he said, and bent down to whisper, "I win."

She gave him a dry look from under hooded eyes. Awake Andy was starting to resurface.

He grinned and kissed her temple.

She made a soft noise in her throat

Oh he shouldn't have done that.

"Goodnight, Jason," she said, looking at him lazily, in his bed. After he carried her into his bedroom.

"Uh, yeah. Goodnight," he said, and fled to the cold isolation of the couch.

Next>>

[jasonscaramel]

i guess only the stars would know the truth - masterlist

ao3 link

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[peachyloveswriting]

Into Eternity

Chapter 1

Summary: That encounter with Red Hood truely was unforgettable, but now it's like your seeing him everywhere. What a mystery.

tag list: @irishbelle34 @ceshacat

Content: Slight PTSD, choking (not sexual), pills (not content for full book!!!)

Words: 1.6k

Notes: I got a lot of love for the prologue, so I'm posting chapter 1, it's much shorter. Shout-out to my editor/beta reader!!!(@batshat ) follow them!!

Greeted with a slap on the back, you look up to see a familiar ginger head, your coworker and friend of two years; Wess.

"Hey, how's the day been?" He asks cheerfully, practically hanging off of you as you wash the dishes. Clingy, as he usually was, it was always good to see him being himself.

You give a dry laugh, "Same old, same old." You say.

He scoffs at you, his arm falling back to his side as he turns to grab his apron. "You've been acting weird lately," he says "I'm worried."

Giving the most real laugh you can muster, you turn to him. Your hands are still scrubbing away at the plate you're holding.

"You must be demented." You call out. He glances up at you and finishes tieing the apron around his waist. Challenge flashes through his eyes as he steps toward you.

"Who you calling demented, huh?" He jabs playfully.

Wess wraps his arm lightly around your neck, pulling you in a headlock.

You know it's only playful, but panic sets in. Your chest squeezes, simulating the feeling of choking. Dropping the plate you grasp at Wess's arm, clawing to get it away. A loud shatter erupts and the air falls silent.

The arm around you slips away, he calls out. "What the fuck dude?" Anger swimming in his voice. "I was just playing."

Your hands grasp at your neck, each breath coming in short quick succession. A panicked call of your name rang out, before you knew what was happening the world went sideways. This wasn't right, perhaps gravity flipped the other way?

The moment you came back too, fingers podded at your eyes forcing them open. A flashlight blinds you, and with a grimace, you reach up swatting the light.

"Honey, I need you to cooperate with me okay?" Fingers prod at your other eye and the light appears again. When the light has been removed the vision of a woman in uniform, with long blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail consoles you.

Her voice is soft and sweet, but her eyes are an icy blue. Quite a contrast.

"What's your name?" She asks.

Groaning at the pain in your head setting in, you raise a hand to feel it. The vague memory of what happened comes back to you. Unhappily, you grumbled your name.

Her hand rests on your shoulder, "Good, how old are you?"

Every answer that comes after is met with groggy responses. Eventually, you sit up. Realizing that you're no longer in your workplace’s kitchen, but instead inside of an ambulance.

The burning, the panic, and the breathing all come back to you. Confused, you turn to the lady who sits beside you.

"What happened?"

For a moment she glances up at you, then looks back down at the item in her hands.

"Coworkers say you passed out, but we think that was just the result of a panic attack. Have you been choked before?"

Annoyed, and ready to go home you huff. Your eyes are coming to rest on your ginger-headed friend. He stands with his arms crossed and lips jutted out in a pout, he's defensive. Secretly you pray he doesn't look over to see you awake, having him bug you with a bombardment of questions was the last thing you wanted.

The past month had been hell enough, with laying down and going back to dreamland being your ultimate fantasy.

With tired eyes, you look back at the lady beside you, who takes out a stethoscope from around her neck and presses the earpieces to her ears.

"Just take me home." Your tired grumble brings a frown to her face.

"We'll do that soon enough."

She was right, they did just that. It was surprising that they even took you home. You'd expect a call from your boss sooner or later. Something you didn't look forward to.

You were jostled the moment you stepped through the door, the rasp of your mother's voice scratching at your ears, she shakes you with a hand on each arm.

"What the fuck happened?! I was so worried. I got a call from the police and I thought you got hurt!" She exclaimed.

Her worried searching eyes realize seeing the tire in your own. A deep frown etched on her face she slides a hand onto your back, guiding you to bed.

Her silence speaks a thousand words but your bed speaks more. The sight of your dirty beige bed sheet and brown cover normally disgust you, but today they bring you great comfort and relief. Never again would you forsake the best thing in the world, sleep.

When you wake again it's dark, the night sky outside your window welcoming you. You stare blankly, the realization slowly coming to you. Hurriedly turning onto your stomach, hands spilling over the side of the bed and grasping your phone, you scan the phone screen.

No new messages, surprising considering how bitchy your boss was. Checking the time with a sigh and placing it face down on the bed you swing your feet over the side, sitting straight up.

You rub the palm of your hand against your eyes till colors swim in the darkness.

It takes a moment to collect these different thoughts before you get moving: Picking up the various clothes strewn across your floor and placing them in a basket. Creeping out of your room and through the small hallway, you make your way towards the door at the end of the hall.

Slowly, you peek in on your mother's sleeping form. Her rising and falling chest bring comfort to your swimming head.

Her face is sunken in, making it easy to see her skeletal outline. Has she always been that boney?

Closing the door and making your way to the small kitchen, you sneak through the dark living room.

You can just barely make out the outlines of trash everywhere. It was disgusting the fifth that littered this place, but no matter what you did you can never seem to find the motivation.

Flipping on the kitchen light, you make your way to the counter beside the fridge where a multitude of pill bottles sit scattered about.

Picking up the one closest to you and shaking it, you're disappointed to find only one pill left. It'd only been a week since you got it, you blame yourself for not checking how many were actually in the bottle when you received it.

Placing it aside with a grumble, you shuffle around. Picking up the nearest jacket in sight, you slip it on and make your way towards the fire escape.

As you reach towards the cold dark metal of the window, the loud sound of someone clearing their throat startles you.

Spinning around, you press yourself flat against the glass with a gasp.

In the living room on the other side of the couch stands Red Hood with his helmet tucked under his arm, he again wears the mask that shields his eyes.

"What are you doing in my apartment?" You hiss at your intruder. Your voice stays low so as to not disturb your mother.

A smug smirk curled at the Red Hood's lips, your surprise amusing for him to observe.

As he walks around the side of the couch towards you he speaks, his voice is low as if to copy you and dripping with amusement.

"I'm simply stopping by to say hi." He claims.

He's looking everywhere but you, as he walks closer, observing the area around him.

"Stop making excuses and leave." You slide the window open and step to the side, gesturing for him to get out.

His smile falls, and he raises his brows.

"Me?" He asks, feigning innocence, and pointing at himself, looking around.

You growl, gritting your teeth. Watching you walk behind him, he mocks confusion but the smile is still evident on his lips as he looks at you from over his shoulder.

Placing both hands on his back, you begin to shove as hard as you can against him. He moves forward, maybe too easily, he could have fought against you but you didn't argue.

"Get. Out."

"So hostile." He mused.

Stepping back, you slam your shoulder into him as a last resort. Surprised, he stumbles forward, his helmet falling to the floor as he climbs out onto the fire escape.

"Rude."

Walking over to the helmet, you pick it up. As you turn it right side up to throw out the window you're caught off guard by a small bottle falling from inside.

Pausing, you reach down to pick up the bottle. You're quick to realize what it is.

"You're welcome."

You look over to see Red Hood smiling at you, he stands before leaning down again. "Oh, and keep the helmet, I'll be coming back for it later." With that he disappeared from sight.

Your gaze lingered on the window, his words echoing in your head. You swallow hard, reaching over to pick the helmet back up. Tucking it under your arm and making your way to the window you attempt to shut it with these items in your hold but it just doesn't budge, aggravated, you drop the helmet and beat on the jutted out lip of the panel until it falls into place. Satisfied, you pick the helmet back up before making your way to the mess of pill bottles.

He seemed so insistent on helping you, very unlikely. He was a killer, a murderer, murderers don't care. What time would he have to waste on a person from the slums when he had bad guys to kill? So why you?

[nocturnalchaos]

any good long/slowburn jayrae fanfics ??

Absolutely! I will give you three recommendations. That way you can see which one calls to you. Both @jasonrae117 and @xaphrin have multiple JayRae titles on ao3 (and are on tumblr). So, see if any of their other works are more of what you are looking for. (Note: all of these recommendations contain mature content and/or smut.)

Just Business by JasonRae117 (ongoing - Last updated in 2022)

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24947905

Just Business (54736 words) by JasonRae117 Chapters: 17/? Fandom: DCU, DCU (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Teen Titans - All Media Types Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Raven/Jason Todd, Dick Grayson/Raven, Raven & Red X (DCU), Dick Grayson & Koriand'r & Garfield Logan & Raven & Victor Stone, Dick Grayson/Koriand'r, Barbara Gordon/Dick Grayson Characters: Raven (DCU), Robin (DCU), Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Red X (DCU), Red Hood, Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Slade Wilson, Joker (DCU), Dr. Light, Oswald Cobblepot, Koriand'r (DCU), Barbara Gordon Additional Tags: Past Relationship(s), Love Triangles, Dick Grayson is Robin, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Jason Todd is Red X, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Bruce Wayne is Batman, Wayne Manor, Possibly Unrequited Love, Sex, Breaking Up & Making Up, Flashbacks Summary: He shouldn't be here. SHE shouldn't be here. For him it was just business, then why was it so pleasurable? Told through some flashbacks on the coming together and falling apart of relationships. Present plot continues in later chapters. Lemons and a lot of drama. Robrae (Dick Grayson) and Jayrae pairings.

---

2. No Vacancy by xaphrin (Complete)

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20838299

No Vacancy (42363 words) by xaphrin Chapters: 20/20 Fandom: Teen Titans - All Media Types, Teen Titans (Animated Series) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Raven/Jason Todd, Raven/Red X (DCU), Raven & Red X (DCU) Characters: Raven (DCU), Jason Todd, Red X (DCU) Additional Tags: In which there is is some enemies to lovers, with a HEFTY DOSE OF PORN, because I am a shameless disaster Summary: They were the two jilted lovers that came up with a no-strings-attached agreement. It was only too bad that they started to fall for one another in the worst ways possible.

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3. love is the drug by midnightdrives (Ongoing/Abandoned(?)- Last Updated in 2021)

love is the drug (13064 words) by midnightdrives Chapters: 4/? Fandom: Teen Titans - All Media Types, Teen Titans (Animated Series) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Raven/Jason Todd, Raven & Jason Todd, Raven & Red X (DCU) Characters: Raven (DCU), Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Koriand'r (DCU), Garfield Logan, Victor Stone, Jinx (DCU), Karen Beecher, Tim Drake Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - 1970s, One Night Stands, cbgb inspired clubs, lots of punk and possibly some disco and soul, Smut Summary: It’s 1977 and punk is the new thing. When Raven goes to a local club to hear some music, she wasn’t planning on leaving with the bartender. What she also doesn’t know is that he’s actually Nightwing’s dead brother, Jason Todd. Another thing she doesn’t know is that he’s Red X.

[super-cerulean]

❄️Pairings: Jason Todd x Gender Neutral Reader

❄️Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death, Language, Mentions of Mental Illness, Mentions of Depression and Dissociation, Angst, Slow burn

❄️Summary: Following the events of One and Only, Jason Todd's life is spiralling out of control. His best friend is dead, his family thinks he's on the verge of a meltdown, and the one person who might understand is locked up in Arkham and hates his guts. Knowing he's getting to a point where things are going to overwhelm him, he can either let himself react the way he reacts, or he can do something drastic to try and prevent the next Arkham Knight situation. Which one do you think he goes with?

❄️Links: Available on AO3

Don't You Ever Wonder How We Survive?

I took a Chance on Saving Me, That's Not a Front

You Get Used to the Loneliness, It's Just a Matter of Time

If You Had My Love and I Gave You All My Trust, Would you Comfort Me?

❄️Songs used in Titles:

Monster - Paramore

Gucci Frames - Asiahn

Leave Me Alone - Alexis Munroe

Teenage Fever - Drake

[antic1stamine]

HI ANYONE AND EVERYONE! MY NAME IS ANTIC1STAMINE! I wanted to let anyone who follows these tags that I post on a scheduled basis when i can get to it so i usually schedule for 8pm EST! look forward to seeing my posts!!

[to-the-stars8]

The Waynes' Nanny

Batfamily and Reader/ Bruce Wayne x Reader Chapters Ao3

The Pilot Pt. 2

Walking into the dining room, your bunny slippers pink and prominent, you stretched and yawned out a ‘hello’. It was wonderful falling asleep in a mansion, and even more so when you spent some time in the lavish bathtub attached to your room. It almost made you not want to leave to go downstairs. Yet, you knew there was a job to be done. The children commented on your colorful robe and slippers, astounded that you showed up to breakfast in such attire. Mr. Wayne seemed amused and commented as such, playfully saying that he wished he owned the same bunny slippers you did. You offered to lend them to him, and he rejected the idea. 

Sitting at the table, you playfully scolded Alfred, “You should tell me these things. A simple dress for breakfast would have been fine.”

“Forgive me, Miss, I assumed you knew,” He said, slightly smiling, as he set a breakfast plate in front of you. 

You shook your head, smiling at the plate of food. “I’m from downtown Gotham, Alfred. You have to assume I know nothing.” You looked around the table, watching as they looked at you with surprise. “What? I got something on my face?”

“You’re sitting at the table,” Duke said shyly. 

You looked to Bruce, expecting him to say something, but he didn’t as he continued to eat his food. “Where else am I supposed to sit?”

“The kitchen,” Dick replied bluntly. 

You blew him off. “That’s so old-fashioned, and I’m too social for that. Now, what’re we doing today?” 

The kids told you they would need to leave the house since Mr. Wayne would be holding a charity dinner party that the children were not invited to. Not that you said it aloud, you were less than impressed by Bruce’s lack of involvement with the kids in things. So, you offered to take them to buy clothes and other things, and Mr. Wayne was happy enough to lend you his credit card. You marveled at the black American Express card, never thinking you’d see one in person—Let alone hold one. 

Suddenly, Alfred re-entered the dining room to tell Mr. Wayne that Lucius Fox was on the phone for him. You got up soon after, taking your plate full of food, and told the kids that you were leaving to get dressed, happy as a clam with your new position.

—

Dick was reserved, openly hostile toward you, and didn’t like the idea that now there was even more of a reason for Bruce not to be involved. You automatically made a note to force Bruce to be more active in his kids' lives and shake the eldest's rough exterior. 

So, when you arrived at the clothes shop, one your friend owned, of course, you spent more time picking out his clothes. Dick seemed like, well, a dick. He was as clever as he was spiteful and attempted to attack you at every angle. You persisted, though, while managing the other kids' wardrobes. 

Dick huffed and went to sit in one of the waiting chairs on the other end of the small boutique, seething in silence. You left him there for a bit, doting on the other children who were pretty well-behaved, albeit a bit odd. Tim had been looking under the mannequins’ skirts to see if they were anatomically correct—and, you knew instantly that would be a conversation with his father. 

As Duke and Jason were trying on ties, you finally looked over to the teenager brooding in the corner. You went over to him, holding up a red tie to his neck before taking the blue one from Damian’s small hands, who was on your hip, and doing the same. Dick was less than impressed. 

“Blue, it compliments your eyes,” You said. 

Dick huffed. “Why’re you doing this?” 

“Because I think you guys should go to that dinner tonight.” 

Before Dick could say that wouldn’t happen Cassandra stumbled over holding out a dress that she wanted to wear, but he wasn’t too dissuaded by that. He insisted that they wouldn’t be going to the dinner party.

Cassandra, even more clever than her older brother, nicely said, “I think the blue tie would suit you, Dickie. It brings out your eyes. It makes you super, super handsome.” 

He stared at her for a moment before saying, “You’re a bitch, you know that?”

Cass smiled, turning on her heel to walk off, leaving you to scold Dick as Damian slowly became more and more irritated with your arm. 

Dick only snapped at you again.

Usually, you could keep your cool, when it didn’t involve your boyfriend, but this was the last straw. “Listen here, I do not care how you feel about Bruce or anything of the sort, but I do know this; you are under my care, and you will be polite, respectful, and cut that language out when I am around.”

“Or what?”

You smiled smugly, stepping closer to Dick as you told him exactly what would happen if he did not behave.  

—

The children had come home happy, Dick noticeably more so than when he left that morning, and they all boasted about the fun they had with you. Bruce found himself excited at just how well they got on with you, and surprised when the seven of you seemed to be in cahoots. This suspicion rose when he asked you about what the kids bought, but you only brushed him off—heading upstairs in a hurry as you giggled along with the little ones. Fortunately for you, Bruce didn’t dwell much on the thought as his attentions were pulled toward making the evening perfect. 

And so had the party gone. It was starting perfectly. The guests were happy, dinner was being served on time, and, most importantly, the money was rolling in for the charities. Bruce stood in the doorway of the foyer and salon, where the guests were because Alfred had informed him that you needed something. Harvey, who had been in the middle of telling him something, followed him. 

To his surprise, you were standing on the last landing of the staircase in a classy red dress, and he would be lying to himself as well as you if he didn’t admit that you looked stunning. Proudly looking down at him, you grinned before turning to see the kids, all dressed up, behind you. 

“Who is that,” Harvey mumbled to Bruce, grinning from ear to ear. 

Bruce answered, “My nanny.” When you approached, he said in a hushed tone, “I told you the children couldn’t attend.”

You acted shocked, hand going to your cheek, and said sarcastically, “Oh, my! I must be blushing.”

“You’re a dirty player,” He commented before going to his children. Bruce admired how well they all cleaned up, doting on them like he always did, before telling them to be on their most perfect behavior. 

Harvey took this chance to introduce himself, and you seemed charmed. “Pleasure to meet you, Mr. DA. Say, I’ve got some parking tickets that I think are pretty bogus, you think you fix those for…”

You trailed off when Bruce came back up to you, motioning all of you toward the salon, and whispering in your ear, “We’re discussing this later.”

You rolled your eyes, you would rather have fun than stress what your boss would say. The children were a hit amongst the party-goers, all of them cooing and awing at the children. You, too, were an intrigue to the guests since you were the mysterious latercomer who also happened to be beautiful. Bruce was surprised by just how well, with your downtown Gotham charms, you ran in the circles of the rich. You enthralled them with little tales of the children, some he was sure you made up, as well as wise outlooks on life (according to yourself, but the people listening took it up like catnip). 

Bruce also found himself having the time of his life with his kids, joking with them, and sharing the bits of business to the best of his ability. Dick was happy that he was paying more attention to them rather than the party, even going as far as to call him ‘Dad’ rather than Bruce. And, when you had left to put Damian to bed, Dickie had told him to keep you around along with something about wanting to keep his social life intact another day. 

That certainly would be something else he would need to speak to you about. 

—

“Goodbye, Harvey! I’ll call you about those parking tickets,” You called out the front door as you put the small piece of paper with his number into your bra. When you turned around there was Bruce, standing there with his hands on his hips, and you thought for sure you were going to get sacked. 

Before you could explain, Bruce said, “Don’t pull a stunt like that again.”

You were shocked, but not undeterred from your original task. “All I want to do is show those kids that you care about them.”

“I do care about them, and don’t need you to show that.”

You stepped forward, snickering. “I seriously doubt that. I mean, look how happy they were tonight. Why would you want to exclude them like that, Mr. Wayne?”

Bruce thinned his lips, thinking for a moment before relenting. He wasn’t sure if it was the fact that you were right or that he found the courageous glint in your eyes fairly pretty that he gave up so easily. Reluctantly, he agreed that maybe you were right and mentioned how much the kids liked you, even going as far as to offhandedly mention what Dick said. 

“You can stay,” He said. 

You grinned, “Good. I think you’d have a hard time getting rid of me now. I think the masses in this house might revolt.”

Bruce looked at you again before smiling. No matter how he felt, Bruce couldn’t deny one thing; That you were the perfect addition to the household.

[fic-ive-read]

Link To The Fic

This story is good by itself. The sequel hasn't been updated in several years though, just a heads up.

[ravenclawshermione]

New Fic Posted!

Super excited to announce the first chapter for my new fic, You Know The Scars On My Soul - I'd Give You Every Fractured Future.

Phoebe Katsaros can see the multiverse, a so-called gift that's never led to anything good. Not until Jason.

Jason Todd isn't big on letting people in, especially not civilians. They just made it harder to do the job, to make the hard choices that needed to be made. But then he met Phoebe.

For as long as I could remember, I’d gotten flashes like this. Hints of the past, glimpses of the future, even flashes of the moment I was or should be in. I had learned the hard way that it wasn’t just my reality that I could see. As far as I could tell, I’d gotten flashes from at least a hundred different realities. And with most of them being so very close to what was real, it made the so-called gift essentially useless. It was nearly impossible to tell if the things I saw were from this reality. Which is why I usually tried my best to avoid them, or to ignore them when they came. 

I quickly scanned the books and the one poster I could see, comparing them to what I’d seen in the flash. There weren’t as many identifiers as I would have liked, but what there was all matched. As much as I usually ignored the flashes, the stakes here were just too high.

It would be pointless to try and tell people to evacuate, no one would listen. The dull red fire alarm caught my eye, the best option I had. I yanked it down, wincing as the air erupted into loud grating shrieks, then turned to make sure that people were actually reacting to it, only to see a wall.

A six-foot wall of muscle in a tight black shirt and brown leather jacket, gorgeous dark eyes glaring down at me, the strongest ‘fuck off’ vibes I’d ever encountered rolling off of him.

“Jesus, you couldn’t have picked a less obnoxious prank?”

akes place in the same reality as my Calla fics, but 100% you don't have to have read any of those to enjoy.