I'm a 28-year-old French girl obsessed with Batman and his people (especially Jason and the girls) and his villains (don't tell me Poison Ivy isn't wife material).
When are we getting married? (Jason Todd x gn!reader + Dick Grayson)
Skincare routine (Jason Todd x afab!reader + Dick Grayson x Koriand'r)
A hobby (Bruce Wayne x gn!reader + Alfred Pennyworth)
Adopting Duke (Bruce Wayne x gn!reader + Duke Thomas)
Crushes are oblivious (Stephanie Brown x gn!reader)
Brothers being brothers (Jason Todd / Tim Drake)
Kidnapper (Bruce Wayne / Kidnapper + Dick Grayson)
Do your bed, Damian (Damian Wayne / Alfred Pennyworth / Bruce Wayne)
Yeah I saved you (Jason Todd / Tim Drake)
Men like him (Carmine Falcone / Selina Kyle / Bruce Wayne)
Jerk / Bitch (Stephanie Brown / Jason Todd)
Smart kids (Stephanie Brown / Duke Thomas)
Imagines / Oneshots
The nightmare (Jason Todd x gn!reader)
It's happening again (Jason Todd x gn!reader)
Just in love (Jason Todd x f!reader)
You're always making things better, Jay (Jason Todd x GN!reader)
You're going to be okay, Jay (Jason Todd x GN!reader)
A new flower to take care of (Poison Ivy x GN!reader)
I'll do better for you (Poison Ivy x GN!reader)
Let's free the world from humanity (Poison Ivy x GN!reader)
Friends are the best painkillers (Platonic!batfamily x chronically ill gn!reader)
Headcanons
Demon Head!Bruce Wayne (x f!reader)
The nightclub (Jason Todd x f!reader)
Series
You are my heaven // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 (Bruce Wayne x f!reader)
Being in a relationship with Bruce Wayne: a journey: afab!reader's origin story // Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6 // Part 7 // Part 8 // Part 9 // Part 10
Persephone // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 (Bruce Wayne x f!reader)
Death can't keep up apart // Part 2 (Bruce Wayne x f!reader)
Behind the masks // Part 2 (Bruce Wayne x gn mayor!reader)
A predatory bird // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 (Bruce Wayne x gn Talon!reader)
Don't touch Red Hood, Batman! // I like to flirt with you, Red Hood! // You're my guardian angel, Red Hood! // I love you, my crime lord! (Jason Todd x f!reader)
Love me like in a dark fairytale // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6 // Part 7 // Part 8 // Part 9 (knight!Jason Todd x princess!reader)
Thinking of Bruce downing like a sizable amount of pain meds due to tolerance and abnormal levels of pain so he can still function and because he's normally so quiet and now he's buzzed quiet there's no outwardly apparent difference unless you're Alfred or one of his kids or Clark. And while Bruce's favourite thing to do in this state is attend WE board meetings, he occasionally has to head to the Watchtower.
Emergencies sober him up fast, but the second a need for coherency ends he lapses back to mellow. Nobody notices that he's been nodding continuously because Clark keeps subtly coughing or lightly kicking his chair.
Works perfectly until Clark kicks it out and Bruce goes down like a stringless puppet.
"sweetheart, are you sure you don't want to wear a different coat?" bruce asked. he had been trailing behind you as you tore both closets apart in pursuit of warmth.
you had decided on his navy coat. the one with italian-imported cashmere, hand stitched hemming, and too many visits to the tailor for alterations. you'd sworn up and down it was "so extra" when he first commissioned it.
"no, i do not, honey." you replied, a tad bitterly.
stubbornness. that was great.
bruce tried to keep the edge out of his voice, "what about that jacket you bought in–"
"none of mine fit me." you snapped, slipping the coat on. "maybe you should have put more thought into that before getting me pregnant, bruce."
"that's..." bruce let out a long sigh as he rubbed his temple. he gave a moment's consideration to his words before he spoke again, "y/n. i love when you wear my clothes, you know this. it's just..maybe we should look for a different coat? that color doesn't really go with your outfit anyways. fault of the coat of course."
"i don't care if the coat matches my outfit or not! i'm about to have a baby in like three weeks. so long as something fits and is warm, fashion is the least of my worries."
bruce's jaw worked for a moment before he let out a small disbelieving laugh, "baby, you cared yesterday.."
"yes, well, that was yesterday." you muttered as you shoved your hands into each respective pocket of the coat.
bruce visibly winced, which you raised your eyebrows at.
"if you're hiding your burner phone in here, you should have found a better–" the words died on your tongue as your fingers closed around something small in one of the pockets. you glanced at bruce.
he stared back with a small grimace on his face, his lips pursed into a thin line.
you pulled the little object out before staring at it.
a square...box.
oh.
oh.
a ring box. in your favorite color.
you let out a gasp as you hurriedly looked back at bruce. he stared at the box for a moment more, an "oh well" expression blossoming across his features.
bruce met your eyes finally. "i was going to get a different box–"
you made haste shoving the box back into the jacket pocket before he could completely begin his tangent. "maybe we should look for another coat," you said, slipping it off and handing it off to him.
bruce smiled as he took the coat back from you, holding back a laugh, "you think?"
"yeah. this one doesn't go with my outfit."
note: bruce wayne who can't keep his soon-to-be-wife out of the loop for long, so he immediately starts spilling every thought he's had and every step he's taken during the proposing process to her the moment she finds out 🥹
• {content} dick only respond to you calling him baby
The apartment was quiet for a Sunday afternoon, save for the rhythmic humming of the washing machine and the faint scent of fresh linen.
You were currently knee-deep in folding the endless mountain of laundry on the bed. You grabbed the next item from the basket, held it up, and instantly stopped, staring at it in absolute disbelief.
It was a pair of Dick’s favorite boxers—or at least, what used to be boxers. At this point, the fabric was so worn down it was almost translucent, and there were two distinct, gaping holes near the seam. They were hanging on by a single thread and sheer willpower.
"Dick, are you serious?" you called out toward the living room, where your boyfriend was currently stretched across the rug doing his afternoon mobility routine. "Dick, come look at these!"
No answer. Not even a rustle of his sweatpants.
"Dick?" you said, a little louder, peeking your head around the bedroom door.
He was flowing smoothly from a deep hamstring stretch into a cobra pose, looking entirely serene and completely oblivious to your existence.
You blinked. You knew for a fact he wasn't deaf—the man had peak-human Bat-family hearing and could spot a footstep on a roof three blocks away. You opened your mouth to yell his name again, but then the realization hit you.
You had called him 'Dick.'
In the three years you’d been together, you almost never called him by his actual name. He was "babe," "baby," "honey," or, on particularly chaotic mornings, "sweetheart." Calling him Dick was practically a foreign language to his subconscious.
A mischievous grin spread across your face. You leaned against the doorframe, crossing your arms.
"Richard?"
Silence. He shifted into a shoulder bridge.
"Grayson?"
He sighed softly, deepening the stretch, completely locked into his own world.
"Officer Grayson?"
Nothing.
You took a slow breath, held up the shredded boxers like evidence in a court trial, and dropped your voice to its usual fond, affectionate tone.
"Hey, baby?"
Dick’s head snapped up instantly. His bright blue eyes locked onto yours, a warm, easy smile instantly spreading across his face.
"Yeah, sweetcheeks? What's up?" he asked, popping off the floor with effortless agility and strolling toward the bedroom. He leaned into your space, instantly tilting his chin down for a kiss.
You held up the holy pair of boxers right between your faces like a shield, staring at him with an amused, disbelieving look. "Are you serious right now?"
Dick paused mid-lean, blinking at the ruined fabric, then up at you like a confused puppy. "What?"
"First of all, these are going in the trash. Second of all, I just called your name four times."
"No, you didn't," he said smoothly, sliding his arms around your waist anyway. "I would've heard you."
"I said Dick."
He flinched subtly, screwing up his nose as if the word tasted weird. "See? Hearing it now, it doesn't even sound like a real word. Who is he? Sounds like a stranger. I don't know him."
"It is literally your legal name!" You laughed, reaching up to tap his cheek.
Dick gently caught your wrist, tugging you a little closer until your chest was resting against his.
"My name," he corrected softly, his voice dropping into that low, warm register he saved just for you, "is baby. Or babe. I also accept 'hey handsome' if you're feeling fancy."
"You're ridiculous," you murmured, though you couldn't stop the smile tugging at your lips.
"I'm a man conditioned by love," he declared heroically, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of your nose. "If you start calling me Dick, I'm going to assume I'm in trouble, or that Bruce is standing right behind me. Neither of those options are good for my heart."
"So if I need to save you from a falling building, I just have to yell 'Look out, babe!'?"
"Precisely," Dick grinned, kissing your cheek before eyeing the ruined boxers in your hand. "And for the record, those are vintage. They're aerated. It's tactical."
"They're going in the trash, baby."
"Fair enough," he sighed dramatically, wrapping his arms around you tighter.
Jason Todd, who cannot stand to have you mad at him. You give him the silent treatment? Oh, it is over for that man. He wouldn’t last two minutes of you ignoring him and avoiding his eyes before he is dropped to his knees before you. He will beg and plead for you to forgive him without an ounce of shame or embarrassment. He would take multiple bullet wounds to the chest before allowing an argument to fester between the two of you. Still on his knees before you, his hands would be shaking at his side, fingers twitching as he had to physically restrain himself from reaching out to touch you before you were ready. But, when you caved- because you always did whenever you looked into those wide, pleading eyes- he would all but fall forwards. His head would rest on your stomach and his arms would latch around your waist in a firm, protective hold. Jason would continue to mumble muffled apologies into your shirt while you ran your fingers through his hair and it would take everything in him to hold back a shutter as he leaned further into your touch. If there is one thing Jason hates more than anything, it is making you upset, so he would go through any means necessary to keep you from being angry at him for long. Seven minutes is his personal record before groveling to you.
no more nonchalant, mean, daddy dom jason propaganda.
its time for canonically accurate, loverboy, yearner final boss, will give you a flower or rock because he saw it and thought of you on his walk home jason
the night is filled with distant glances and longing sighs as bruce wayne mingles with people he would much rather ignore for his beautiful wife.
he finds your eyes from across the room, silently pleading like he wanted to leave his own event even while he held conversation with some ceo. you’d return a pitiful glance, halfhearted pouts that he’d accept with a slow blink. though while he listened to a new proposal, one that didn’t make any sense to him, bruce struggled to look in their eyes when he knew you were so near yet out of reach.
everyone knows about bruce wayne’s wife. the party is aware of how he melts around you and shows teeth rather than a scornful look when he’s annoyed. his poker face is a lot better too. but when he truly feels like he’s suffocating, as though someone was restricting his ability to be unapologetically himself, bruce can’t hide it. at least not from you.
your husband is overworked and most definitely overpaid. though there isn’t a man in the world more deserving of such freedoms you’re sure. humanity his compass and the broken system of justice which dictates his own. faith driven by pure blind vengeance that has softened in the years you’d come to love him so deeply. compassion and outward appearances of affection you’d cherished. his shoulders relaxing around you.
tonight, he sent the driver home early. he’d let him take one of the cars in his garage and paid him anyway with a tired smile he always gave you when he’d get home late. loosening his tie with one hand, he watches as you play with the stereo. he’d usually just drive in silence, now he’d become accustomed to your taste.
but you knew he still needed the silence sometimes.
the drive home tonight is epically quiet. his voice a sound you wished you could hear but know you won’t because he needs a moment. peers using him as means to their own ends, seeing dollar signs where human emotion should be considered. bruce internalizes it. he pushes it all down until he snaps and it all falls on himself or his sons. you remind him of the fact when he scratches his chin too hard and the red mark remains. when you see the bags begin to form or the line between his brows. he lets you smooth it out with a gentle smile that melts your heart like ice.
now his hands find their way to you anyway, sitting warm as he grips your thigh. fingers idle on the bare skin, still as if in waiting. he catches your eye at the red light, watching as it illuminates your skin amid the dark gotham night. like a sterling path of light through his dark thoughts. you pretend not to notice him staring at the side of your face when you stare at the side mirror.
bruce doesn’t like to be disturbed when he’s deep in thought. he doesn’t enjoy company that is uninvited. but with his wife, his beautiful loving wife, bruce has immense patience.
no one else can gauge his moods in the way you can. no one else sees how anger is truly concern or how his indifference is really acceptance.
he’s a man who has put all his faith into a broken system that has beat down his loved ones time and time again. bruce has to believe that it’s all for something. that he did this for a reason behind superficial tangibility. he admits to you in the quiet moments that it’s for you. for his family. for the child he hopes you’ll let him give you. admits that you ground him and keep him sane from the thoughts that whirl him into the dark.
for now, he keeps his palm on your knee, sliding up and down to your thigh like he’s soothing. though you know it’s more for him than for you. then he’s bringing your hand on your thigh up to his lips. he reminds you that even without words that he loves you bad, until it makes him devoid of anything else. delicate presses of his supple skin to the back of your hand before he nuzzles his nose against it. watching him completely turned now, you smile to yourself and graze his cheek with your freehand before he turns to kiss the palm of that one too.
existence was simply sufficient for him. your presence all he needed even when words failed to find him. though you’d also learned to love the silence and how his embrace was enough to warm your soul.
bruce wayne with a girlfriend who wants to film a grwm for social media but he walks past the camera shirtless (and hot) and it turns into a playboy, billionaire bruce wayne thirst trap used in 1838373 edits because his fans are unhinged
dick grayson with a girlfriend who tosses off her high heels mid walk because it hurts to walk in them, making him speed up his pace to fetch her heels before it gets into her way
barbara gordon with a girlfriend who melts in barbara’s arms while getting back scratches and then she proceeds to brag to her followers that no one will have such an intelligent and amazing and hot and kind and sexy and loving and ethereal girlfriend like she does
jason todd with a girlfriend who snaps a quick ootd and says “twirl” and he actually listens to show his outfit
cassandra cain with a girlfriend who always shows her newest haul, in real life or per video chat doesn’t really matter, and wants cass to clap or compliment her
stephanie brown with a girlfriend who demands to get carried yet steph proceeds to throw her over her shoulder instead
tim drake with a girlfriend who calls him good boy whenever he does a quick favour for her and they both cringe but tim secretly doesn’t mind
duke thomas with a girlfriend who bakes with him and she intentionally smears whipped cream or flour or any sort of shit she can get into her hands onto his face (it doesn’t end well)
damian wayne with a girlfriend who forces him to participate in tiktok trends. he appears maybe once or twice per month (if you’re lucky)
Thinking about Jason Todd finding your 'dream boyfriend' list.
While you were at work, he decided to be a good boyfriend and clean up the apartment. As he was throwing away some garbage, a particular piece of paper, hastily folded and carefully hidden, caught his attention.
Jason should put it back where he found it, he reasoned, but the effort you had put into hiding it did nothing to dim his curiosity.
After looking behind him, as if he were afraid you had somehow magically appeared, he opened it, already regretting violating your privacy. But what he found made it worth it.
Oh, so worth it.
The page was titled 'dream boyfriend', written in a loopy handwriting, using glitter gel pens of different colors. Underneath it, a long list of attributes.
- taller than me
- well read (accompanied by many, many exclamation points)
- worships me
- loves me (optional)
- romantic
- polite
- yummy thighs
- doesn't have social media
A smile creeped on his face as he kept reading the list, all of his previous worries about it long forgotten.
He knows you love him — you've made that clear many times before — but seeing you basically describing him as your dream boyfriend even before the two of you even met, made a warm feeling spread through his chest.
The day goes by, and when you finally come back home, he's so happy to see you and spend the rest of the night reading a book while you do the same, with your legs on his lap for him to hold, that he forgets he never got around to putting the list back where he had found it.
The realization hits him when you go to your room to change and come back to the living room shortly after with an embarrassed look on your face.
"Umm, love?"
"Yes, angel?"
"That piece of paper, did you, umm- Did you read it?"
Now it's his turn to be embarrassed, as he scratches the back of his neck and his ears turn red.
"...Yes," he admits.
You groan loudly, covering your face with your hands, hoping the ground will swallow you whole.
Jason pulls you in for a hug, gently placing a kiss on the top of your head.
"Please kill me," you mumble, your face still buried in his chest.
"It's not that bad," he reasons.
Then, unable to restrain himself any longer, he adds, "Yummy thighs?"
A/N: Got asked to write a Jason version, and I'm not ashamed to admit that some of the items come straight from my own list.
{summary} He thinks he’s slipping. You think he’s hotter. Obviously, you’re right.
{content} bruce wayne x reader, established relationship, fluff, soft intimacy, domestic moment, body image insecurity
You weren’t even supposed to be in the bedroom yet.
You were looking for your phone.
Instead, you stop dead in the doorway.
Bruce is standing in front of the mirror, shirtless, hair still slightly damp like he just got out of the shower. One hand is braced on the dresser, the other… hovering over his stomach, pressing lightly, then pulling away like he doesn’t like what he feels.
His expression?
Critical. Focused. Annoyed.
“…Great,” he mutters.
You raise a brow, leaning against the frame. “Wow. Who pissed you off this time?”
He doesn’t turn around immediately.
“…Me,” he says flatly.
That gets your attention.
You step inside, slower now. “That sounds dramatic. Should I be concerned?”
Now he glances at you through the mirror.
“Probably not,” he says. “Unless you’ve developed strong opinions about poor discipline.”
You snort. “Oh, I have plenty of those. Just not about you.”
He gestures vaguely at himself, like the answer should be obvious.
“This,” he says.
You look.
And look a little longer than necessary, just to make a point.
“…Yeah,” you say.
His jaw tightens. “Yeah.”
You hum, walking closer, circling slightly so you’re not just another reflection behind him.
“Yeah,” you repeat, “you look good.”
He exhales sharply through his nose. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t do that thing where you pretend—”
You reach out and poke his side.
He stops mid-sentence.
“First of all,” you say, completely ignoring his complaint, “rude. Second—what ‘thing’?”
“That,” he gestures again, more annoyed now, “where you act like there’s no difference.”
You tilt your head, considering him.
“There is a difference.”
He nods once, like finally, finally—
“Yeah,” you continue, “you’re hotter.”
Silence.
He turns his head, actually looking at you now.
“…You’re unbelievable.”
“I’ve been told.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
You step right into his space now, no hesitation, your hand sliding lightly across his stomach—not critical, not analyzing, just there.
His breath catches, subtle but there.
“You feel nice,” you say casually.
“…Nice,” he repeats, like the word personally offended him.
“Mhm.” You nod. “Very. Ten out of ten. Would absolutely ignore responsibilities to touch again.”
He lets out a quiet, disbelieving huff. “That’s not helping.”
“It is,” you argue. “You just don’t like the method.”
He shakes his head, stepping back half a pace—until his back nearly hits the dresser.
“I’ve lost definition,” he says. “I’m slower. I should’ve noticed sooner.”
There it is.
You soften—but only a little.
Instead of arguing, you step closer again, closing that half-step distance like it never existed.
“Bruce.”
He doesn’t answer.
Your hand slides up his chest, steady, grounding.
“You know what I see?”
He gives you a look. “Apparently something fictional.”
You roll your eyes and—without warning—lean in and press a kiss to his collarbone.
He freezes.
Another one, just above it.
“I see someone who hasn’t slept properly in weeks,” you murmur.
A kiss to his shoulder.
“Someone who’s been carrying half the city on his back.”
Your fingers curl lightly against his side.
“And someone who still looks—unfairly—good doing it.”
He exhales, slower this time.
You pull back just enough to meet his eyes.
“You’re allowed to change,” you say. “You’re not a statue.”
“That’s not the point.”
“Then what is?”
He hesitates.
And that hesitation says everything.
You sigh softly, but there’s no frustration in it—just understanding.
“C’mere.”
You don’t wait for permission. You take his hand and guide it—gently—back to his own stomach where he was just criticizing himself.
He tenses at first.
“Feel that?” you ask.
“I know what it feels like.”
“Yeah,” you say, your hand covering his, pressing it there just a little more firmly, “but you’re feeling it like it’s a problem.”
You shift closer, your other arm sliding around his waist.
“I’m feeling it like it’s you.”
He goes quiet.
Your thumb brushes lightly over his knuckles.
“And I like you,” you add, softer now.
He watches you for a second—really watches you this time, like he’s trying to decide if he believes you.
“…You’re biased,” he says.
You grin. “Hopelessly.”
That finally cracks something.
A small smile. Barely there, but real.
You take advantage of it immediately, leaning up to press a quick kiss to his lips—light, teasing.
“Also,” you add, not moving far, “for the record?”
He hums faintly.
“You’re hot.”
He shakes his head, but there’s no heat in it anymore.
“…You’re ridiculous.”
“And yet,” you say, backing him lightly against the dresser now, hands still on him, “you’re smiling.”
He pauses.
Realizes.
And—yeah.
He is.
You soften again, just a little, your forehead brushing his.
“Stop picking fights with yourself,” you murmur. “You’re on my team.”
His hand comes up then, settling at your waist, grounding himself there.
“…Stay?” he asks quietly.
You huff a small laugh. “Wasn’t planning on leaving.”
i know that bruce being emotionally constipated is a comedy staple in a lot of batfam fics, but i have a headcanon that bruce does understand emotions fairly well but ONLY in the context of how his family handles/reacts to them. for example:
tim, holding his side and stumbling up to his bedroom: ow, ow, ow, ow ow-
bruce, hovering but not doing anything because his feral child will hiss and hide his injuries for months if he makes him feel cornered: do you want me to help directly or leave The Offerings?
tim, sullenly: offerings, please
bruce: *piles a bunch of medical supplies in tim's customized Injury Offerings bag (covered in Young Justice and weird animal stickers) and leaves it outside of his door like a sacrifice*
two days later
WE employee: *gets bad papercut* oh, jeez, this hurts
bruce, malfunctioning in the hallway because he literally watched three of his gremlins refuse to treat a broken rib like two hours ago: do you want The Offerings?
WE employee, used to their boss' eccentricities: no i'll just use the first aid kit, thank you Mr Wayne.
new intern, pale and shaking: oh god its a cult, i knew it, the health benefits were too good i'm gonna die-
like bruce can understand and interpret the meanings of other people's emotions, he just has horrible reference points. he stays completely straight faced and sometimes even looks wistful when cursed out by a random board member, but gets misty eyed when he finds random rocks stuffed in his suit jacket pockets (jason shows affection through volume and damian/tim/duke/steph put rocks in his clothes when they're grateful but don't wanna be mushy about it) i believe this wholeheartedly let bruce wayne be a good dad I SWEAR
i'd even go as far as saying there's only one side dick would ever take over bruce's and that is his own. to him, he's the only person sufficiently qualified to disagree with bruce. everyone else is a casual. and wrong
i’d be so pissed off if dick grayson were my brother imagine you’re having a laugh with him and you make some joke about bruce wayne that he’s decided in his beautiful mind went too far in ways that you actually don’t fully understand and he suddenly gets all serious and looks darkly to the side and goes “you don’t know him. not like i do. you haven’t bled for him and loved him the way that i have.” like oh my fucking god bro i was playinggg
I’ve seen lots of “Batman is Bruce Wayne’s secret lover” and “Bruce Wayne is Batman’s benefactor” but consider the following unexplored potential relationships:
Batman is Thomas Wayne’s illegitimate child (and therefore Bruce’s half brother)
Bruce is Batman’s LinkedIn Mentor
Batman is Bruce’s dominatrix
They killed someone in a boating accident back in 1997 and are sworn to keep that secret together until they die
Batman is an evil Bruce clone created by Lex Luthor who went rogue
they don’t know each other but Batman keeps saving Bruce because he thinks he knows him from somewhere, maybe
Batman is trying to collect on a ransom for Bruce but you have to rescue him ten times on the punch card
Batman is Jim Gordon and he only rescues Bruce so he can yell at him for letting his ward sleep with his daughter
Batman is a hired actor Bruce employs for PTSD exposure therapy
Etc etc
All I’m saying is, the Gotham tabloids should be getting way more creative and outlandish with their theories. “Oh, they’re sleeping together!” is so lame. Readers need intrigue.
(the batkids write this list and submit it to the local tabloids with little success)
summary: jason thought you didn’t know he was red hood. he preferred to keep it that way for now. you knew that jason was red hood. you just figured he didn’t like to talk about it all that much.
word count: 2k
warnings: none
Jason was being as quiet as he possibly could be, which wasn’t easy when geared up from head to toe in his heavy Red Hood suit.
From his steel toed boots- that he could not figure out how to tiptoe in to save his life. Which was pointed out by his brothers, who made fun of him relentlessly whenever he failed to sneak up on someone in the field. To even the way his trusty leather jacket creaks over his chest plate agonizingly loud in the otherwise silent apartment.
His one goal: to not wake you up from whatever peaceful slumber you had fallen into since he left you last.
You had been dating for a few months now and as much as he loved you- god, did Jason love you- he didn’t exactly know how to broach the whole… vilgilante topic.
It wasn’t that he didn’t trust you to keep it a secret, he did, his only fear was that you looked at him differently once you knew that he was the feared Red Hood of Crime Alley. He was worried beyond belief that you would view the relationship that you built together- the one he treasured more than anything in this world- as one built on lies.
And while that couldn’t be further from the truth, he still couldn’t stop the way his lungs seized and practically collapsed in on themselves whenever he even thought about letting you in his nightlife secret.
How would he even start that conversation? ‘Oh, hey, babe. You know that Red Hood guy? The one that everyone fears- the one that kills people? Yeah? Well, that’s me! Plus, and my dad is Batman! Anyway, what do you want for dinner?’
Yeah, fat chance.
Jason grumbled inaudibly under his breath as he attempted to shed himself of his gun holster, that appeared to pick that specific time to get slightly tangled and stuck, and therefore inconvenience the man who wanted nothing more than to slip into bed discreetly beside you.
Just as he went to pass the kitchen and make his way to the bathroom to rid himself of the rest of his ensemble, however, a soft clattering had him freezing directly in his steps.
The man swore his heart stopped beating all together in his chest as he slowly turned his head- still with his red helmet over it- to face you, standing innocently with your back towards him, clad in nothing but one of your boyfriends old sleep shirts as you filled up a glass of water at the sink.
Before the vigilante could even attempt to move out of your line of sight- his fight or flight instincts all of a sudden completely nonexistent, apparently- you shut off the tap and turned to him calmly, sipping gingerly on your drink.
“Hi, baby,” You greeted quietly, giving the man a small smile as you padded forwards against the hardwood floors.
It was pathetic, really, how every thought completely vanished from the man’s mind right then and there. As if the mere sight of you had stolen away any ounce of common sense he may have had clanging around in his head.
Jason was rendered completely useless, frozen with his mouth hanging open and pupils blown wide as he stared directly at you. You continued to approach him, undeterred by his whole getup.
You stood on your tiptoes, placing a quick, chaste kiss to the side of his helmet, “Come to bed soon, I missed you.” Is all you said before taking your glass of water and disappear back into your room as if you had just had the most normal exchange in the world.
As if this were just an average night for you.
“Uhh…” Jason stuttered out into the empty space, breaths coming out as nothing more than practically a wheeze at this point, “What?”
He had to have been hallucinating. He must’ve been, right? After all, there was no way you had just acted as if you knew the Red Hood, had just kissed him on the cheek as if he were Jason.
Which, to your knowledge, he wasn’t.
Sleepwalking. You had to have been sleepwalking. That was the only way possible he could even begin to explain what the hell had just taken place.
You had slept-walked into the kitchen to pour yourself a late night glass of water and in your hazed mind, had seen a man in your apartment that you could only assume to be your boyfriend, and then went on your merry way back to bed.
Todd quickly shook his head, ridding himself of all thoughts of anything other than the possibility of you having just been sleepwalking in front of him. True, you had never done so before, but there was a first time for everything, wasn’t there?
Quickly slipping out of the rest of his suit and into nothing but a pair of low hanging sweatpants, Jason timidly made his way to your bedroom, peering inside as if fully expecting a bomb to be chucked directly in his face if he stepped in too fast.
“Hey, Jay.” You greeted softly, causing the man’s green eyed gaze to snap directly to you, where you sat propped up against the headboard, smiling welcomingly at the man.
You, who was very much awake, and very much not sleepwalking.
The cup you had fetched now sat discarded on your bedside table, and you held your open arms out to your boyfriend, a silent invitation if Jason had ever seen one.
He shuffled into the room awkwardly, hand coming up to tug slightly at the back of his dark hair as he eyed you wearily, “Hi, sweetheart,” He mumbled back, almost as though he were testing the waters as he approached you, “Havin’ a good night?” He asked when he came to a stop in front of the mattress, gulping.
Humming in response, you reached over and gently but firmly tugged your boyfriend down onto the bed beside you, making yourself comfortable snuggled against his chest without further delay, “Very. It was nice and relaxing. How about you, baby?” You asked, tracing idle shapes against his bare chest while you allowed your eyes to flutter shut.
Jason swallowed harshly once more as his arm came to wrap itself around you unconsciously, unsure of how exactly to bring up what had just gone down in the kitchen. How you had seen him in his vigilante getup and hadn’t even batted an eye.
“So, about what you just saw-” He started, unsure of what else he could even say, but you swiftly cut him off as your head popped up and your serious gaze met his.
Whatever lingering sleepiness that had been clinging to your expression vanished in and instant, a sense of alertness coming over you.
“Oh, Jay, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” A small frown was pulling at your lips as you spoke.
He blinked down at you once. Twice. “I-what?” He tripped over his words, a jumble of syllables falling out in turn.
You sighed, dropping your chin against his pec so you could still gaze up at him with a soft pout now adorning your features, “I know you don’t like to talk about the whole Red Hood thing, so I’m sorry if I made you upset by talking to you while you were still- what? In costume? Suited up?” You shook your head softly, “Sorry, baby, I don’t know the correct term.”
The words rolled off your tongue so casually, as if you were merely discussing the weather. Not the possibility of your boyfriend of a few months being a vigilante.
Jason practically leapt to his feet, though he was careful to gently move you off of him before he did so, “I- you knew?” He spat out, complete and utter bewilderment overtaking his features.
He didn’t know what was happening. Everything was so confusing and he felt as though the walls of your bedroom were spinning around him suddenly, trying to knock him off kilter.
You rose to your knees on the mattress in front of your boyfriend, confusion mirroring his own spreading throughout your face, “Knew about what, Jay?” You asked as gently as you could manage at exactly 4:24 in the morning.
Pacing commenced before your very eyes as Jason ran his hands repeatedly through his hair, “Red Hood! You- you knew about Red Hood?” It sounded more as though he were speaking to himself, trying to wrap his mind around such possibilities that seemed so far fetched from him a mere twenty minutes prior.
“About… you being Red Hood?” You asked so slowly, eyebrows furrowing as what he was questioning you about finally processed in your head, “Of course I knew, I’ve known since the second week of us dating.” You said it slowly, gently, as if speaking to an unstable toddler.
Jason froze for what felt like the tenth time that night, “What?” He asked, completely horrified, “You- knew?”
You shook your head back and forth, “Of course I knew. I thought you… knew that I knew?” The more you talked, the less certain on the topic you seemed, “I mean, you’re not exactly slick about it.”
If it was even possible, his eyes had just been blown wider than they had been, “What- what’s that supposed to mean?” He sputtered out.
“I mean how you leave your vigilante suit in the closet.” You explained slowly.
“In a duffle bag!” He defended, mind reeling as he went over any single moment that he could’ve tripped up on the whole ‘secret identity’ thing in the last few months of you dating.
“That you often leave not only opened, but flipped upside down.” You continued, “I swear it spends more time across the closet floor than it actually does on you at night. And speaking of, you keep very odd hours, Jay. Even by Gotham standards. There’s only so much detective work that could possibly go into figuring something like that out.”
Jason dropped his head into his hands, “I thought I was careful.” He all but groaned, words becoming muffled through his fingers.
Gently, you reached out and took his hands into your own, pulling them away so he would look you in the eyes as you soothingly ran your thumbs across his wrists, “Not to mention the fact that I saw you changing into your suit on our second week of dating. I think you thought I was asleep so you were trying to be quiet, but you actually bumped into the dresser pretty loudly and started cursing like a sailor.” You giggled slightly under your breath at the thought, “It was kinda hard to miss.”
He swallowed thickly, eyes now taking in every inch of your face, scanning for those signs of fear and regret he had dreaded looking upon the moment you knew about his Red Hood life, “So… you knew all along?”
Nodding gently, you squeezed his hands once, “Well, I kind of assumed you knew that I knew and just didn’t like to talk about it.” You shrugged almost bashfully now, as if realizing that you very poorly misread the situation, “I always just thought you liked to keep that life and this life with the two of us separate. I thought I was respecting your wishes by never bringing it up.”
“And you’re not…” He searched for the right words, “Scared of me- of Red Hood?”
Your eyebrows shot up at the suggestion, as if it were the most unhinged and improbable thing he could’ve possibly asked you in that moment, “Scared of you? Of course not, Jay, you keep me- and so many other people safe- each and every night. I have nothing to be scared of from you.”
Jason had not realized until that moment just how much he had needed to hear those exact words fall from your lips. He all but deflated as what felt like the weight of a thousand burdens lifted from his shoulders and were obliterated before his very eyes.
“Oh, sweetheart,” He sighed, somewhat dreamily, sweeping a piece of hair away from your eyes, “All this time, I saw so worried about you knowing and… and looking at me differently. When, in reality, you knew all along.”
You leaned into the man’s touch without thinking twice, eyes fluttering shut as you planted a soft kiss to the inside of his hand that gingerly cupped your cheek now, “Nothing you could do could ever make me look at you differently, Jason.” You assured him, “Now, get in bed, it’s late and I’m tired.” You teased, tugging him down alongside you once more.
He allowed you to do as such to him and he stayed still for a moment, with you curled up at his side and letting out a content hum when he began moving his fingers through your hair.
“Sweetheart?” Jason asked after a few moments of silence, “…I can be subtle right?”
featuring: wally west, tim drake, dick grayson, jason todd
content: smau, established relationship, fem!reader, talks of pregnancy (non-serious), potentially sexual themes ??? this is just crack don't mind me
— wally west
— tim drake
— dick grayson
— jason todd
a/n: baby's first SMAU! this is a prompt that has floated around in my brain for a while and i'm honestly kind of shocked that i've never seen it done before (let me know if u have). all the pictures are from pinterest btw. let me know what u think!
likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated <3
