What about a fic with younger!reader whos sheltered from vigilantism and never met olderbrother!Jason before he died.
But then red hood appears and lowkey becomes readers protector and “imaginary” friend
sorry for the wait my love! hope you enjoy!!!!
imaginary - j. todd
dcu masterlist | main masterlist
older brother!jason todd x gn!sibling!reader
summary: regretting everything that's happened to the others, bruce keeps you in the dark about most of his vigilante past as he tries to move you towards a life of normalcy. but some things in the past are harder to outrun.
warnings: sibling!reader, brief mentions of death
UNEDITED!
"keep your window closed at night, otherwise jack frost will nip your nose." dick pinches your nose for emphasis. scars pepper his chin, his fingers. you wonder how many litter the skin under his t-shirt, how many wounds he's secretly tended to while you were tucked away safely.
under plush sheets, you bury yourself. "i get hot at night," you whine.
he tugs at the blankets. "because you have, like, ten blankets on you all the time. c'mon, you'll catch a cold if you leave it open." he stalks over to the window and shuts it. the howling wind is sucked away, the whirring fan left to fill the silence.
your eyes flicker to the blinking alarm clock. only nine p.m, and already dick was sending you to bed. you couldn't lie, the nights often got lonely. and quiet. very quiet.
you were well aware of what your family did at night - their sneaking around. they were also aware of your awareness. it was no secret - their vigilantism.
but for some strange reason, you weren't allowed to join.
yes, it was dangerous. you weren't young enough to be ignorant to that. but damian was young when he started. maybe just a little older than you. so you expected to be allowed to start when you were in your early teens. only...five years to go?
but in your single-digit youth, all you'd ever heard were hard no's. hard never's. such definite words to determine an indefinite future.
so here you were, being tucked in by your oldest brother. a gentleness possessed his eyes, the kind that told you he was trying to give you the childhood he never had.
you've heard the horror stories. who they've lost.
and, yes, you suppose the job might be a little dangerous. but only one robin has ever died.
and you...
you've never met said robin.
jason was his name. and everyone knew him as rowdy, spunky, hot-tempered and a little irrational, with a sense of twisted justice. time had healed your family enough for them to finally admit that it was all those qualities that got him killed.
despite promising to never be like that - to listen to every order and stay level-headed - no one ever vouched for you to be on the team.
"i can tuck myself in, you know," you grumble.
dick gives you a soft smile. "trust me, kiddo. even at my age, if i could have my parents tuck me in one last time, i would."
they often roated tucking you in. a routine they cherished more than you did, and you suppose it was because you never knew what it was like to not have a family.
tomorrow would be tim, then (reluctantly) damian would pop in the next night, then your father bruce, and the cycle would start all over again.
the others came and went. you honestly preferred being tucked into bed by steph, cass, or babs. they were much better story tellers, save for dick, who liked to be theatrical for his own sake.
you knew they were just trying to give you the love, the family, they never had. how could you blame them for that?
still, every night you to go bed wondering if bruce will make a suit for you. every night, you wonder if tomorrow they'll admit you'll be allowed to join them on a mission when you're older. you'd wait until you were fifteen. seventeen. hell, twenty.
most nights, though, you dreams didn't come true, which left you just as lonely in the morning as you were after the sun set.
"good night, little wing." dick rubs your forehead.
"night night, big bird."
at first, jason is livid.
another child. another damned child taking up space in the manor. another robin used to simply blur his already fading memory.
he sees you in the window. kisses on your forehead, stories until your eyes flutter shut.
he's jealous - he can admit that to himself. just another replacement.
until he realizes that they're not training you. jason watches the manor every night. has been lately, since he noticed you were living in it.
bruce isn't training you, not preparing you for any missions to come. whatever you mean to him, he's trying to keep you out of the loop.
so you're not a replacement.
you're just...
you.
and jason watches how you stare out the window every night, hoping to catch a glimpse of your brothers and sisters skirting the rooftops of gotham city, and he feels a twang of jealousy.
your innocence is unparalleled.
and if bruce is keeping you out of the loop, do you even know who jason is?
has his memory been untainted by the one person who didn't know him, or have they filled your little mind with the recklessness of his youth?
jason is itching to find out. to know that maybe he's not a monster, not some animal revived to haunt the narrative of his family's lives.
as the nights grow colder and longer, jason gets closer. you spend your nights drawing, or reading, like he used to. the manor stays empty save for you and alfred most of the time, you seem...lonely.
he notes you have a habit of leaving your window open.
the last thing he wants to do is scare you, so he hovers. he's too big to look like a mere shadow, and smart little you notices this one night. you're at your desk, doodling something on a sketchpad when you catch sight of a flicker.
he tries to hide, but your tiny feet are faster. he doesn't know why his reflexes are so damn slow today, or why his heart is beating so fast.
maybe because this is a mistake. maybe because he's harboring a jealousy that's slowly choking him. it's not your fault. you just look so sweet. everyone dotes on you in a way he always wished for himself, though the thought feels childish now.
he's trembling, damn near terrified you, a child.
you pace towards your window and open it fully. he presses his body against the wall, flakes of snow melting on his leather jacket.
"hello?" you say. your voice is like a bird's. a chirp. a tweet amidst the wind. a delicate song.
you pause.
jason breathes quietly.
"it's okay," you say. "i saw you. you don't have to be scared."
jason wonders - would it be okay? would you tattle if he showed himself? even if you knew him as jason, as robin, you wouldn't know him now. his face or his persona. nobody knew him. just like your nights spent alone drawing and reading, jason too admitted to himself that he was also terribly...lonely.
his breath shudders and fogs up the eye glass of his mask.
"i won't tell anyone you're here." your little voice rings into the snowy city.
it's all too tempting. too tempting to tell you the truth, that he wasn't a monster. he wasn't entirely careless.
but then again...why is he so desperate to tell you a truth you wouldn't care to hear? you don't know him - not really.
so jason (recklessly) gives into his temptation and scoots into your vision. he feels like a hulking beast.
he also feels like he's looking at himself.
"hi," you say. "i knew you were out here." why aren't you scared?
he says nothing in return. just squats awkwardly on your window sill.
"are you scared?"
terribly, he wants to tell you. there's a strange vulnerability that comes with meeting your gaze. one that sends him back to his childhood. the good one, with bruce. where he was able to abandon the stinking streets of gotham. where he was bruce's whole world.
what if you do think he's a monster?
so he tells himself he's doing it so he doesn't scare you. if you see that he's a little shaken, surely you'd know he meant to harm.
jason nods his head.
"it's okay to be scared." you give him a smile - it displays your missing teeth. "i still get scared sometimes, too."
if only jason could tell you - tell anyone - that he was almost always scared.
"are you cold?" you peer up at the starless sky. "it's snowing. you must be cold." you turn around, as if someone might burst through your door. but, as usual, you're alone save for alfred, who wandered the lower floors, tidying someone's mess.
"my family isn't home right now. they're out, um...they have a dinner."
yes, a dinner at midnight. jason wouldn't question your lie.
he feels a little sick as he welcomes himself into your room. not the lurching kind of sick, where his stomach twists and a fever rises. homesick.
jason sees your bed, your little desk and all your little crayons. he memorizes the books lining your shelves, the toys and socks littering the floor. and the blankets, soft and plush, a sensation he hadn't felt since his death.
"just be quiet, because my dad's butler is still home." you point at his shoes. "shhh..."
absentmindedly, jason removes his clunky boots and scoots them into a corner, somewhere the mud and dirt will be hidden
you cock your head to the side. "i know that's a mask."
jason's hands tremble. he feels a weird connection with you. one that wrenches at his heart. jason feels like he has some obligation to protect you. you're not his replacement - because face it, he'd been replaced years ago, hadn't he? by tim, by damian, by everyone else who fit into this cluttered family.
bruce gradually filled that hole with you, finally. didn't he?
"do you want to take it off now? that's what my family does - the first thing they do when they get home. says it makes them feel better. less heavy." your stubby fingers reach around his helmet.
he flinches back.
"it's okay, don't be scared."
your fingers fiddle with the mechanics of the helmet, toying with the buttons lining the base of it until one clicks into place. a hiss fills the room and his mask comes undone.
his cheeks redden, feeling exposed in the one building that felt like home.
"woah, cool!" you exclaim, running a hand through the white streak in his hair.
he stops you and wiggles back on his knees. "aren't you scared? i'm a stranger."
"imaginary friend. just friend, actually." you smile. "and i knew it was a mask, i told you. why would i be scared of a mask?"
"because..." because aren't you afraid of the person beneath it?
"you're not scary. what's your name?"
"i..." his eyes flicker to the ground. what would you tell your family, should your truthful mouth ever say a thing? that you were talking to the ghost of jason todd?
he shrugs, and pretends to be nameless. pretends to have forgotten, or simply never been named in the first place.
"that's okay," you mumble. "i'm sure you'll remember. and if you don't, can i name you something?"
jason's lips quiver, and he nods.
there's some peace that comes with being nobody. it feels like a new identity. somehow, jason suddenly feels okay with his memory getting washed away - reduced to a nameless nothing stalking through the city. just for a moment, his past, his future, all meshes together and becomes nothing.
his sins melt away in the presence of your innocence.
"would you like to be friends?" you add.
"i..." the words threaten to strangle in his throat. "yes."
"but if you ever follow me around the manor, just do it quietly. i don't think anyone can see you, because you're imaginary. but they might hear you. i heard you loud and clear outside."
he chuckles at this. perhaps he's really become a ghost.
"do you like stories? i like to read before i go to bed. i'm not supposed to be up, so shh..."
he blinks as you scurry to the bookshelf and pluck a book from where it was wedged.
"you seem very scared tonight."
i am scared every night. and i'm alone every night.
"my family reads to me whenever i am scared. can i read to you?"
something inside him rips apart, paving the way for some unplaceable emotion he hadn't felt in years. faith? peace?
"yes," he mutters.
"this is one of my favorites."
your innocence renews his. you bring back a child that was long dead, a child yearning for love and recognition.
you cuddle up to him on the floor. he's not quiet sure if he should lean into your tiny body (he's scared to crush you) or if he should stay still, like a stone.
he chooses the latter.
you begin reading. he takes note of which words you can't pronounce, which pages you spend the longest on, what pictures you like the most. and right then and there, jason feels a peace he thought he'd lost.
he corrects your reading, teaches you how to assess when certain vowels make certain sounds.
and you seem to be getting sleepier than he is.
when you're passed out on him, jason realizes that this is a peace he isn't quite ready to let go of.
jason swears to himself that you'll never go to bed alone ever again.
