yandere jason todd x reader has me on a chokehold (mind the tags).
like, imagine you grew up in crime alley with him. he’s the person you trust the most in the world, the one person who knows what living in that place, where dead bodies appear in the morning, and lunch came from the trash can, is like. he is the one person who knows how rooted in the fear of adults—big, aggressive, unpredictable— was when you were little and how much it took to break that prejudice down.
when bruce wanted to adopt him, he grabbed you by the arm and declared that you two were a package deal; “it’s both of us or neither”, he said. to think he was willing to resign the opportunity of a lifetime just to stay with you stuck in your memory long after long after you learned to spar each other, how to dress stab wounds and bullet holes and you decided that you wanted every day to be like this: fighting by Jason’s side, together until you were old and wrinkly, living somewhere warm with the people who loved you.
then ethiopia came. and then it went. but it didn’t feel like that at all.
it was as though a part of your heart had been ripped apart from the rest, buried far away from your reach, and everyone told you to just get over it, to suck it up and keep going; it was infuriating as much as it was unbearable.
after jason died, you didn’t leave vigilantism, not outright, but you didn’t have half as much the will to fight. it wasn’t the same without him. the magic that robin exuded, which had once enthused you, was entirely absent without him there.
so, you told bruce that you were dropping out of a mission. just a single one, an easy one he could take over perfectly well on his own. and then, you dropped out of two missions. and then, three. and then, you felt so numb and the world was such a bother that you stopped counting, until you weren't a vigilante anymore.
tim appeared out of the blue. at first, it felt like betrayal. bruce wanted another robin? seriously? it felt like he was saying that jason wasn’t good enough, so someone better had to replace him. also, the kid managed to crack both his and dick's secret identities, so while he kind of had to stay, being a liability and all… did he? his presence was a constant reminder of the fact that jason was gone. how could bruce just move past that? where had all the grief and anger gone?
but as days passed and turned into weeks, you began to interact with tim and discovered that he actually had pretty interesting things to say. he was witty, creative, passionate about investigating, and he never judged you for missing jason like crazy. he didn't want to be him, he just wants to earn his spot in the family. and when you let him in at last, it felt like letting go, like acceptance and grief all wrapped up in one.
years go by and very, very slowly, reality starts to settle back down. there is always a dull ache in your chest that pierces your heart whenever the image of jason's smiling face comes back to your mind's forefront, but it's a happy thing now to remember him, not a reason to fall apart. it's hard, but you're getting to the point of acceptance.
then quietly, almost like he was sneaking around, red hood arrives to your life. you hear that he is wreaking havoc in the streets by killing criminals and messing with crime syndicates. since that is not your department anymore, you leave it all to bruce and tim, who are working hard to take him down. still, you notice that bruce is avoiding you, far more than usual. also, tim is unusually undescriptive about the cases as of late, when he used to share everything with you for insight.
they were fools, thinking they could hide it from you. after all, bruce trained you, too: you know how to be a detective, regardless of how long you've been off work. and so, you find out that your dead best friend and only love is back from the dead.
you don't think twice and put your suit back on the moment that knowledge comes to you. that is your best friend they are trying to catch— it'd only be fair if you were the one to do it. bruce firmly "suggests" that you don't, but you don't listen to him and simply go off on a solo investigation. you pursue the smallest trails and hints of his presence around the city, collected without their help, but some you do steal from bruce and tim. all those clues, which you study obsessively, finally lead you to him: the person you love, the person you've been grieving for years.
on his end, he was hoping you'd never see him again. how would you react if you did? he's sure you wouldn't recognize him, and he'd rather avoid you looking at him like he's someone you don't know, burying himself in his self-imposed duty as opposed to confronting the fact that there is someone out there who misses him.
jason misses you, too; how couldn't he? you're the best person he knows. you always understood him and his anger, and you weren't afraid to tell him when he was being an utter jerk either. your smile was his light at the end of the tunnel during the harsh, cold days of his childhood. you always knew when he was upset and you'd comfort him always, taking his small hands into your smaller ones as your voice soothed his nerves.
it was easier to forget about you if he didn't look for you. still, he did so unconsciously, whenever the bat and the replacement chased after him. he'd wonder if you were alright, if you were even alive. you couldn't have died, too. no way. you couldn't have ended up like him. but he quickly found out that bruce wayne's daughter was alive and well, but that, after his death, the media had stalked her for months.
this is how he found out that you had grieved him intensly. he knew that already, he imagined that you did, after all you two went through, but the pictures of you with hollow eyes, pale skin, and lips that couldn't manage to form into a smile confirmed it.
he wondered what else you'd gone through that nobody else knew; he immediately scolded himself for those thoughts.
he should leave you alone, now that he is a killer. you wouldn't want to associate with him, even though choosing not to look for you makes him sick.
everything he's ever done, it's been to protect you. even when he was robin, his first concern was your safety above his own, throwing himself into danger to take a hit, only for you to scold him after as you wrapped up his bleeding wounds. he'd felt proud of it every time, butterflies fluttering in his stomach as he feigned an easy-going demeanor, betrayed by his reddened cheeks.
things couldn't be the way they were before. but he wanted them to be. god, how he wished he could hold you and know that you are okay.
so imagine his shock when he saw you back on the streets. that suit, that face, he'd recognize them anywhere.
it almost infuriates him.
how could you put yourself in danger like this?! after he died! don't you know that being a hero is what got him killed? surely you do... and if you don't, that doesn't matter! you shouldn't be out there, taking on metahumans and people who should be receiving mental help instead of terrorizing the city!
he does notice, though, that you're acting separately from bruce and robin. huh. what are you planning? he tries to look into you, but you're too elusive, erasing your movements as soon as you make them. the more he tries to know, the more you elude him, and it frustrates him. if only he could meet you as red hood and give you a big scare so you'd consider backing off... maybe even hurt you so badly you'll end up in the hospital? he doesn't want that—the worst thing that could have happened to him before was seeing you cry— but if it's for your safety, then...
the reunion is unexpected. he should have seen it coming, but he didn't. he just didn't.
he's entering his safe house, exhausted from being up for more hours than he should have, planning and strategizing on how to swallow a drug cartel in the city into his own organization, when he sees you there, standing in the middle of the room, with your domino mask off as you wring it nervously in your hands.
"jason," you say breathlessly. you know he is red hood? shit. shit, this isn't how he wanted it to go.
(he didn't want it to in the first place, but if it was inevitable, then he would have wanted it to be different.)
he's tempted to throw you out. it's what he should do. why should he let you be associated with him? you'll just try to convince him to stop. you're too good, too moral, too kind— much too kind for our own good.
can't you see he doesn't deserve your kindness? you're better off in a world where you won't have to worry about the likes of him. he knows you're in college now, too. so go. leave him be. forget about him. why won't you forget about him?
he's selfish, too. so selfish, in fact, that he doesn't stop you from hugging him, or taking him to his couch, or making him tell you what happened to him, how he came back to life, and what the League of Assassins did to him.
to say you're horrified is an understatement.
"i'm so sorry," you whisper tearfully.
"what're you sorry for?" he asks, voice uncharacteristically soft for the person he's become. "none of that's your fault, you know that."
except, for some reason, you insist that you should have been there, that you should have been by his side before what happened, happened. you're set on that belief, and he absolutely hates it.
"listen," he tells you, taking you by the shoulders. "i'd rather you hadn't been there in the first place. you could have died with me, too, and..."
he trails off, the thought turning into a force pressing down on his chest.
what would have happened if you died, too?
the thought haunts him for days afterward. had you died, too, would you have had the same luck as him? would you have been brought back? if the joker had gotten his hands on you, too, would your last moments have been as painful, terrifying, and hopeless as his were?
you don't know what has him so grim, clueless about his growing dread. there shouldn't be anything to dread: you've reunited against all odds! you're together again, you can be by each other's side after all! so why is he so... depressed? contemplative?
little do you know jason's mind is spiraling. you want to be by his side, whether as a civilian or a vigilante, and whenever he sees you in spandex, bathed by the darkness of the night, ready to send people to jail while thoughtlessly risking your life... he can't take it. what would he do if you died like he did, or worse? why don't you seem to care? you look so happy, happier than he's seen you look in the tabloids of recent years. he knows that you're enjoying going back to the "good old times" with him, but he's being driven insane.
one day, he decides he's had enough: he takes and locks you in his safehouse, which he's adapted beforehand so the only one who can unlock the front door is him, effectively trapping you inside.
at first, you think someone else kidnapped you and he's here to save you, when you realize that this is his apartment. the truth dawns down on you like a hammer to the head.
"no..."
"i'm sorry," he genuienly says. "it's for the better, okay?"
the first days, you try to reason with him: what could happen to you out there? you know how to defend yourself, you've literally been trained by aliens and enhanced individuals, going on par with the likes of solomon grundy and clayface. he has nothing to fear, you'll be fine. also, what does he think bruce and tim will do? just stand around and do nothing? what about your friends? they'll start looking for you, too. and, look, you get why he did it: he's scared. of you course he's scared. nobody can blame him for it. so, you tell him, if he lets you go, everything will be okay. you can move past this and he can seek help.
but jason strikes back: he thought he could handle joker, and he couldn't. bruce and tim? let them have fun trying to find you. and your friends have no idea you're even affiliated with batman, so they won't have a clue as to why you've disappeared. besides, you don't need anything from the outside world: he can get you anything you want. and he does! your room, which he's decorated based on your previous one—he already calls it your old home—, is constantly being updated with new, top-tier, exclusive versions of your favorite things. whatever you want, it's yours. he's also giving you all the space you need to process this! albeit with a few requests here and there that you share your time with him. also, a hug wouldn't hurt... he really does want a hug. he's getting upset, seeing you so desperate to leave.
by the second week, you understand that reason won't work. so you start to ignore him: you take the meals he makes without so much as a glance his way, spend your time doing whatever you can to fill it, now that you have so much of it, pretending he isn't always watching you like a hawk, and avoid running into him whenever you can help it.
it drives jason crazy: he'd rather have you yelling and punching him because that'd show him that you still care. instead, you're more like a zombie now: going through the motions without changing your expression much.
"say something," he blurts out one afternoon all of a sudden. you simply continue to do what you're doing, and his patience snaps. he stomps towards you and grabs you by the wrist, hoisting you up so you can't ignore him. "hey! i'm talking to you!"
you flinch, because he's taller and bigger than you now. has he realized that he could hurt you, even unintentionally, and you'd have to put twice as much strain on your body to push back against him? he probably hasn't, if his own flinch is anything to go by.
"wait, shit. i didn't mean to-"
he lets go of you like your skin burns him.
"m' sorry. i just... i... i know you want to go, but i'm just trying to protect you. you can't be out there while gotham's infested with all those people. you know that, right?"
he hopes that you do. you don't think that it's reasonable to be out there, when anything could happen to you and he'd be none the wiser, do you?
but the way you look at him—tired and hurt in ways he's never seen before in the depth of your gaze— is a knife to the heart.
"whatever you say, jason," you reply, resigned, already, to the fact that his perspective is unshakeable.
he stiffens are your apathy.
has the fight really drained out of you?
"that's it?" he cannot help but utter, which creates a tingle of humor in your throat.
"yeah. that's it," you answer listlessly.
surely, it can't be it. you've got to have more to say about this.
but jason sees that you're also not up for a discussion right now. and he wouldn't mind taking care of you. so, he gently picks you up, carries you over to the couch, and holds you to himself; you don't fight him (you know now that when he gets like this, the best thing to do is let it run its course).
"i know this isn't ideal for you," he murmurs, "but i promise to keep you safe. always. even if you don't want me to."
jason places a kiss to your hair.
"you're the only thing that matters to me."
he'd made that same promise to you years ago, when he was just starting to get the ropes of beating up men twice his size in red, yellow, and green.
you can barely consider him the same person anymore.
Hiyah! I'd love to see comments on what you'd like to read on a part two or an imagine for this scenario because I love it and I kinda want to develop it, but I think you guys'll have very interesting ideas :) Thanks for reading!
