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Hi!! my name is Milly, (19, she/her.) I’m an INFP, taurus, lover of 80's scifi horror and nerds.
thank you so much for supporting my work!!
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titsay
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
Claire Keane
DEAR READER
KIROKAZE

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
almost home
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
Not today Justin
Misplaced Lens Cap
Keni
$LAYYYTER
One Nice Bug Per Day
Cosimo Galluzzi
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸

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will byers stan first human second
dirt enthusiast

@theartofmadeline

Love Begins
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@therealflickerman
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Hi!! my name is Milly, (19, she/her.) I’m an INFP, taurus, lover of 80's scifi horror and nerds.
thank you so much for supporting my work!!
______________________________________________________________
- MASTERLIST
- REQUESTS
- TAGLIST
It's me again, sorry
I don't know if this is something you'd be interested in writing but I feel like I vaguely remember you having a fic with an autistic reader, and I was wondering if it would be okay for me to request something similar?
I don't have anything super specific in mind-maybe reader being diagnosed and how the boys react or reader dealing with sensory issues? Although I'm partial to Eddie, Steve, and Clark, it can be with any of the boys. I honestly love everything you write so you'll have no complaints from me.
thank you for taking the time to read this. I hope you have a wonderful week lovely girl
for you, my angel, you and steve cope with a ton of your sensory issues the best way you can. 1.7k, fem
Steve can’t pinpoint when it happens, it just happens. Slowly, over the course of the day, he can see your mood changing. One minute you’re there and the next minute you’ve gone into yourself, eyes glazed, your head downturned, sitting on the side of the bathtub as it fills with your hands clenched on your thighs.
He stops brushing his teeth.
Steve isn’t stupid. Not dumb, not half as unworldly as people assume. His dorks all think he’s the idiot of the group because he doesn’t know what a necromancer is, but Steve has actual real life experience, and he’s loved you for a little while now. He might not have understood the extra care you needed when you first met, but Steve’s your guy. He gets this.
He spits and rinses his mouth, dries his hands on the towel. Then he reaches around you to turn off the faucet, returning the room to some semblance of silence.
You make a hoarse humming sound, the meat of your palm digging into your thigh.
Steve kneels down in front of you. He’s smiling at you before you find his gaze. You don’t smile back.
“Too loud?”
You wet your lips. “It’s too everything,” you say.
You warned him once that overstimulation makes you unkind. You’ll get annoyed at the world and it’ll sound like you blame him. It did break his heart, the first time it happened, but it’s not about him. He realised that pretty quickly, that you’re just not built for the amount of things you’ve experienced in one day sometimes. Steve thinks of it like this: throughout the day, he experiences a sensation and he puts it back down, while you experience sensation and aren’t able to put it down, not without the time and space to register that it needs to be put down in the first place. You end up carrying everything with you, all day long. Steve would be tired too. He’d need quiet, too, if it felt like everything that happened to him was happening all day long.
You don’t sound mad, but you’re tight-voiced. Almost like the question annoyed you. It hasn’t, is the thing. Steve gives your knee a tiny stroke. When you don’t flinch, he rests his hand there.
“Maybe you don’t need to have a bath tonight,” he says. “It can wait until the morning if the noise is gonna be too much, or you could wear your plugs or your defenders–”
“Can’t get them wet,” you say.
“Right, of course not. Sorry. Do you know what you need to do to feel better?” he asks hopefully.
“I need to not be warm, and to not be loud, and I need you to squeeze me,” you say, rubbing your thigh harder. Your eyelashes flutter. “Would that be okay?” you add quietly.
Are you still mine?
✧.* Jason Todd x afab!Reader
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ summary: On a peaceful quiet night, curled up in bed and content listening to the sound of rain patter outside, the last thing you expect is to have your soul jump out of your skin when a bloody hand slaps against your window. What you expect less is your boyfriend, Jason, to be on the other side bruised and bloodied and..wearing Red Hoods mask?
W.C: 2.4k (I don't know what happened.)
Peace in Gotham city is about as common as Batman dressed in a pink dress. Rare.
Tonight with the calm pitter-patter of rain falling against your bedroom window and being comfortably curled up in your blankets with a book in your lap and your cat curled up beside you, you suspect that this might be one of those rare times where peace has found you.
You flip a page in your book, it's one Jason recommended you. The story of two lovers being put through trial after trial in a test of love and strength. You and Jason traded books every week, it was one of many of your favorite things about your relationship with Jason.
Your radio plays a song softly beside you on your nightstand and you tap your finger on the back of your book in tempo with the song, humming the lyrics quietly to yourself.
The only thing that would make this night perfect is your boyfriend being in bed with you. You and Jason had been together for the last 3 months and he'd started staying over a few days a week, he was supposed to be there tonight but you figured he might have gotten busy and forgot to text you.
Your cat, Martin, shifts quickly. You pause as Martin's head lifts from his pillow and he abruptly jumps up, causing you to furrow your eyebrows.
"What's the matter Martin?" You speak gently, petting behind your cat's ear but his full attention is on your window on your side of the bed. You turn to gaze out of it, pulling your blankets back and standing cautiously before slowly walking towards your window.
Gazing out of it curiously, you see nothing out of the ordinary. The same grimey alleyway that your room faces, the familiar flickering streetlight at the end of the alleyway and the occasional stranger walking past the entrance to the alley.
Turning back to Martin, your lips curl up into a smile. Feeling a little better after checking for yourself that nothing was amiss.
"It's alright Martin, it's just a little thunder-"
A loud bang interrupts you, causing your heart to stop and you turn back to the window. A hand rests against the surface, big and bleeding and you let out a scream as you back away from the window.
The hand taps relentlessly against your window and you freeze, breaths escaping in quick, panicked puffs as you grab the baseball bat you keep by your dresser. Living in Gotham, you weren't dumb enough not to have a weapon in every room.
Slowly, you walk back to the glass. Hands wrapped firmly around the base of the bat as you quietly step up to the window. Your heart stops a second time at the sight of Red Hood holding on to the fire escape ladder and rapping his fist against your window now.
You don't let go of your bat but the fear you'd felt only moments ago slowly drifted away and you reached up to unlock the sliding glass.
Sliding the window open, you peek your head out and furrow your eyebrows at Red Hood who, to your surprise doesn't lean away and instead places one hand on your window sill as if he wants to pull himself in.
"What are you doing?" You ask confused, hand wrapping tighter around your baseball bat as Red Hood tilts his head up to look at you. You can't see his eyes with the mask on but if you could you'd imagine he was squinting right now.
"M' coming in? I'm feeling a little lightheaded out here so would you mind moving to the left?" His voice is a little drawled, as if he's slurring his words and a part of you wants to let him in just because he looks rather pitiful soaked through with rain.
You gnaw on your lip, eyes narrowing slightly as you consider the pros and cons of letting a vigilante into your apartment. It's only then you notice him using one hand to clutch his side and you gasp as blood seeps through his fingers.
Maybe it's the way you can hear his breathing hitch with every breath, maybe it's the way the wind picks up outside and you watch him away on the fire escape as if he's moments from falling or maybe you're just a little bit foolish but you slide the window open further and step away from the window.
Red Hood easily heaves himself into your room and for a second you swear you feel deja vu watching him land on your fluffy carpet as if he's done so a thousand times before.
The vigilante sways on his feet as his hands reach up to his mask and you watch him with bated breaths, hands loosening around the baseball bat as he seems to struggle with removing the mask before a quiet click sounds in the otherwise silent room and the mask lands on your floor with a dull thud.
You freeze, vision narrowing on the man standing in your room. Hands going slack around the baseball bat and lips parting as your boyfriend stands in front of you holding his bleeding side.
~
Jason had planned on telling you he was Red Hood, maybe not that moment but he'd known if there was anyone he felt deserved to know, it was you.
You, sweet and always willing to listen to him and always so calm and patient with him. The woman he doesn't know what he did to earn the right of calling you his but always makes it known when you both are out shopping or at your local library, whether that be by keeping a possessive hand on your waist or simply holding your hand while you both read in silence.
He'd known he could trust you with all his secrets the moment you'd looked at his scars not with fear or pity but with reverence. You'd run your fingers over the raised skin and pressed a kiss to each scar as if they were only another part of him you wanted to worship, and to you they were.
Now standing in front of you with a stab wound leaking blood all over your carpet, he hadn't quite thought about the aftermath of removing his mask in favor of simply wanting to see you clearly. Looking at you now, your eyes wide and slack-jawed, maybe he'd have thought it through a little better and maybe he would look back on this moment and wonder why you bothered with him at all.
Right now, all he wanted was to hold you, and maybe kiss you a little bit.
He took a swaying step towards you, wincing slightly as the wound in his side stretched with the movement. It wasn't particularly deep and it'd missed any vital entry points but it hurt like hell.
You're frozen in place, hands around the bat he'd bought you slack and he swallows roughly. Maybe this was the limit for you, maybe the idea of dating a vigilante who has enough blood on his hands to last a lifetime is the line you won't cross.
The thought made him pause, of course he'd thought about it, he'd had nightmares of you turning him away with a look of disgust or no expression at all, swearing that being with him was the biggest mistake of your life.
Jason's hand tightens around his side, the pain grounding him to the present. His jaw clenches and his eyes fall to the carpet under his feet, letting you study him and absorb the fact you've been dating one of Gotham's most feared vigilante's.
He hears the bat hit the floor with a quiet thud and still he doesn't raise his gaze in fear of the look on your face he's pictured so many times.
The quiet sound of your footsteps drawing closer makes him tense and he feels the urge to leave, to escape back through your window and disappear. Cursing himself silently for coming here in the first place, he hadn't thought about it, he'd just wanted you.
The feeling of your hands tugging on his hand over his wound draws him from his head and he blinks the dark spots from his vision in favor of finally sparing a glance at your face.
You don't look disgusted, your eyes are a little glassy but bright staring at the still bleeding wound his hand can't hide and then you're looking up at him. Those beautiful eyes that he's been drawn to from the start are staring up at him with concern and maybe it's just the blood loss making him feel hopeful but there's love in your gaze too, eyes shining with the emotion.
"We can talk about it, I want to talk about this, but I need to see the wound first." You say quietly, eyes flicking to his hand and back to his face and he sucks in a quiet breath before nodding.
Jason lets you lead him out of your room, half expecting you to walk him to the door instead of into your small bathroom but as you help him out of his torn leather jacket and out of his shirt, he slowly lets his muscles relax. You're not pushing him away, yet.
~
You rummage around under your sink, chewing on your lip as you pull out your first aid kit, thankful that Jason had convinced you to buy one after you'd fallen and hit your leg and didn't have anything to clean and wrap the wound with.
Your head is still reeling on the fact that your boyfriend is Red Hood, things slowly falling into place. All the times Jason had a nasty bruise or cut that he'd brush off as a work accident, the times he'd be late to pick you up from work and then there were the times he'd sneak out of bed late at night thinking you were asleep.
It all related back to Jason being Red Hood.
You push the mind explosion to the back of your mind, forcing yourself to focus on the current dilemma. Your boyfriend bleeding out on the side of your bathtub.
You don't know how long he's been bleeding, the wound looks shallow but still any amount of blood loss isn't good and with it still bleeding, your main worry is him losing anymore blood. You grab the needle and sutures, you'd taken a handful of first aid classes in college and were fairly confident in your ability to stitch a wound.
Jason eyes the needle for a moment before he drops his gaze back to the tile and you feel a crack in your chest at the way he seems to be anticipating something. Is he expecting you to be angry? To shout and kick him out?
You swallow and open an alcohol wipe packet, wiping down the needle then opening another one before moving over to your boyfriend.
"I'm gonna clean the wound and then I'll do my best to stitch it up, okay?" You hum lowly, crouching in front of him and you watch his breath hitch slightly as he raises his gaze to yours and you see it. The vulnerability, the fear, the longing. Jason nods once and turns slightly so you have a clear view of the cut.
It looks like he was stabbed, and if you think about it, you imagine he was. Pushing the horrific image from your mind, you work at cleaning the wound. Jason barely flinches, remaining perfectly still and the only way you know it affects him is the way his jaw clenches and unclenches.
Discarding the bloodied wipes, you wash your hands and return to his side with the needle and sutures. He sucks in a breath after the second stitch and you grimace slightly, sending him an apologetic glance but his greenish-blue eyes are fully on you, soft and still full of vulnerability.
"M' sorry, for not telling you sooner. I didn't want you to find out this way." Jason mutters lowly, you pause briefly. Jason's voice is rough and a little slurred as he fists his hands and you breathe in a deep breath before continuing the task of closing his wound.
"I wish you could've trusted me sooner with this, but I get it. This isn't exactly the easiest thing to just come out and explain, right?" You say lightly, trying to find a little humor in your situation but Jason looks past your head, looking out into the hallway.
Silence reclaims its spot in the bathroom as you quietly finish up stitching his wound shut and Jason makes no sound, you'd think he wasn't breathing if not for the steady rise and fall of his chest.
You place the first aid kit back under the sink and wash your hands again before returning to your boyfriend, you cup his cheeks and gently tilt his head up, capturing his eyes. Smoothing your thumbs across his cheekbones, you study his face quietly, there's a bruise rapidly blooming under his eye and you lightly run a thumb over the purple mark.
Leaning down, you press a kiss to the bruise and feel Jason let out a small breath. You pull back just enough to run your nose against his and looking into his eyes, you feel your heart swell for this man. The way he seems to be holding his breath as if you'd push him away any second when all you want to do is hold him closer.
"I'm not going anywhere Jay, you being Red Hood doesn't change the man I fell for. I was shocked, unbelievably so, but this doesn't change the way I feel about you." You say softly, brushing another kiss to his brow this time and he breathes out a shaky breath, as if your words are a balm to his heart and maybe they are.
You feel his hands pressing against your hips, holding you as if maybe you'd change your mind if he let you go and you let him press his head to your chest, letting him feel the way your heart beats steadily, determinedly.
You don't know how long you both stay there, it could've been minutes or it could have been an hour but when Jason finally looks up at you, you know he believes you.
"'M keeping you, you're stuck with me for good." He breathes out, his cheeks and ears stained an adorable shade of pink and your heart squeezes at the declaration.
Lips curling up into a small smile, you press a kiss to his lips, his hands squeeze your hips slightly and you sigh softly against his mouth. Pulling back, you run a hand through his jet black and messy hair.
"You're mine, Jason Todd. Don't forget it."
~
A few weeks later, you're surprised a second time when you meet Jason's family for the first time just to learn that they're all vigilante as well. Not only that but you learn that Batman is the Bruce Wayne.
You suppose crime fighting runs in the family and you find that you don't mind that one bit.
⋆.˚ Hi guys!! I hope you all liked this self indulgent fic as much as I liked writing it, something about an emotionally vulnerable Jason gets me all in my feelings every time.
This was NOT proofread ᡣ𐭩
c. @.mrbusinessman, 2026. Do not steal my work!
Divider by @.enchanthings
WIP!!
happy now?
ALMOST PARADISE: PART FIVE - CHAPTER FOUR
pairing: steve harrington x henderson!reader
word count: 6.3k >:)
a/n: a true return to form.... an angsty as fuck long ass chapter. i am so sorry.
masterlist
—
The familiar landscape of Hawkins shifts between shades of blues and greys like a monotone kaleidoscope; with your head resting against the car window, the rolling hills are all you can see. It’s peaceful, almost serene, until a streak of red lightning splits the sky in two. You sigh, pinching your eyes shut as you remember — this isn’t your Hawkins.
Steve speeds through the twisted Indiana countryside, his foot rarely leaving the gas pedal as the group tracks a Demogorgon through the Upside Down. The signal on the telemetry tracker Dustin pilots has stayed strong for the last fifteen minutes, keeping the rest of you on the edge of your seats. You still don’t know how Dustin managed to convince Steve to attach that damn thing to his precious BMW — correction, you know he didn’t. You’ll never forget the look on Steve’s face as he watched your brother lug the antenna onto the roof of his car, hands fisted into his hair.
Wonder
# HIGH PRAISE
⤿ JASON TODD hated having to pick Damian up from school, until he ended up meeting the librarian.
!! fluff. total slowburn. school librarian!reader. fem!reader. meet cute sorta. no real warnings. idk if a librarian would actually do this shhh. kinda reminded me abt ms honey going to see matilda's parents. i have a diff spin of this idea for bruce stay tuned. damien cameos. ENJOY.
Thank you for the reblog!! 💕💕
YOU’RE SO WELCOME, i sit waiting for new chapters to drop!!
we're supposed to be a team
ALMOST PARADISE: PART FIVE - CHAPTER THREE
pairing: steve harrington x henderson!reader
word count: 3.4k
a/n: TWO CHAPTERS IN A WEEK WHO AM I??? this fic has somehow turned into enemies to friends to lovers and back to enemies. anyways these two really just need to find a closet somewhere and get their feelings out if you catch my drift. enjoy the angst >:)
masterlist
—
“How long is this supposed to take?”
“It should almost be recharged,” You respond, “Give it a couple more minutes.”
A deep sigh passes Steve’s lip as his head falls back against the side of the van, his impatience increasing exponentially with each second. The more time it takes to restart the van’s battery, the more likely it is that Hopper’s signal slips away. He is really not looking forward to being chewed out over this.
The Squawk's van is not a particularly reliable mode of transportation, which is ironic considering how integral it is to a crawl’s success. After a couple of instances with a dead battery and other faulty parts, you had the brilliant idea to keep a spare battery charger in the van at all times. Unlucky for you, tonight is the first time you’ve ever had to use it. The universe has impeccable timing, as per usual.
Your mind is having a difficult time processing the events that have transpired over the last hour. After months of searching, Vecna has finally made a move, choosing to target Holly Wheeler and the rest of their family. You don’t think you’ll ever forget hearing the panic in Nancy and Mike’s voices over the radio. They’ve been silent since arriving at the hospital — god, you hope they’re alright. What you can’t quite put your finger on is why the Wheelers? After all this time, why not go after El directly?
love you to the moon and to saturn - j. todd
dcu masterlist | main masterlist |
childhood friend gn!reader x jason todd
summary: jason todd, a child around your age, has moved in next door. through the walls, all you hear is yelling and crying. believing these cries to be his, you befriend him. your friendship stretches from childhood into adolesence, until one day, he vanishes.
warnings: heavy implications of domestic abuse, mentions of death, implied malnourishment of a child, implied child neglect
*ages are innacurate
HEAVILY UNEDITED! (like seriously guys i promise i'm literate i'm just lazy)
Okay I give up I am lowgenuinely not finishing this
series: If Only You Knew
Summary: Growing up in Gotham you and Jason were inseparable. At 17, your life is changed forever when Jason is killed by Joker. Now years later you’re faced with a new threat in Gotham and you might just have history with them.
Warnings: this is 18+ at some parts, each chapter will also have there own warnings. This is more towards fem!reader.
A/N: I’m hoping to update this frequently but also life gets in the way 😔. I’ll be changing a little here and there but I’ll try to stay as true to Arkham Knight as possible. Please stick around, I promise I’m not abandoning any pieces of work. I’m always open for feedback and would love for reblogs and interactions. Also this is my first series so the pacing and chapters might be a little off so please be patient. Thank you guys for reading!! :))
Prologue
Summary: the precursor to where the story begins. Showing how your relationship with Bruce became strained and how you’ve become who you are. (Warnings: small amount of cussing, and some angst)
The Calm Before The Storm
Summary: this is the beginning to a very long night. (Warnings: violence and language. Fem!Reader)
A Start to a Long Night
Summary: Milita takes over Gotham and you get your ass beat. (Warnings: violence and language.)
An Unfortunate Incident
Summary: Things get heated at the Clock Tower and we meet someone ‘new’. (Warnings: violence, weapons, angst and language.)
Old Friends and New Names
Summary: Dick comes to visit, a creature is discovered, and poor Barbra is just a pawn. (Warnings: major violence, adult language, and angst)
Bitter Words with a Ghost
Summary: You get kidnapped. You get rescued. And you get attacked by a ghost. (Warnings: major violence, adult language, mention of bile x3, angst.)
First Steps
Summary: Jason's still processing everything. You have yet to go back to your normal self. Dick and Tim try their best. (Warnings: violence, adult language, bile mentioned, anxiety, and angst.)
Why Are You Here?
Summary: You and Jason end up at the wrong place at the right time. Will there be a team-up or will there be bigger problems? (Warnings: major violence, adult language, angst.)
i always knew you
Summary: After what was supposed to be a normal Patrol you come back to the batcave with Red Hood’s identity. And in the early hours of the morning, you try to wrap your head around the fact that the boy you loved at 13, the boy you grieved, the boy that died, had cheated death. Then you sneak out of the batcave and confront him after four years.
Pairing: Jason Todd/ Fem!Reader,
Content Warning: No use of Y/N, Second Person, Bruce Wayne’s daughter, Vigilante reader, Angst, Hurt/comfort (if you squint), Gun violence, Minor character death, Cursing, Grief
Word Count: 8.6k
A/N: This may not be completely canon accurate (I’m new to the fandom and taking some creative liberty with Jason’s age when he became robin and died bc I can’t find a concrete answer lol)
࿐࿔ 𓅪 ˚ ✦ . ~ ⋆ 𓆩 ☆ 𓆪 ⋆ ~ . ✦ ˚ 𓅪 ࿐࿔
You can’t make up a comprehensive thought while staring at the suit incased in front of you.
Behind the painfully clear glass pane lays a suit that hasn’t been worn in years. The memory of a boy whose laugh lingers in the walls, haunting them almost as much as the laugh of the man who took it. The suit of a dead boy. The dead boy whose funeral you cried at four years ago. The dead boy whose autopsy report you read despite your father’s warnings. The dead boy who was your best friend.
Taking a couple of steps back, you feel the cold metal railing through your suit, and you shift your weight onto your heels while leaning on it. Crossing your arms, you throw your head back and look at the jagged rocks lining the roof of the cave.
The brown and gray spikes of the cavern were closing in on the broken family as they attempted to piece together this awful puzzle. The aftermath of what was supposed to be a simple patrol has turned into a Mary Shelley novel.
Jason Peter Todd was not dead.
The silence following the reveal was deafening.
࿐࿔ 𓅪 ˚ ✦ . ~ ⋆ 𓆩 ☆ 𓆪 ⋆ ~ . ✦ ˚ 𓅪 ࿐࿔
It was close to two in the morning when you wound up in Crime Alley while on your nightly patrol. Your father had told you to leave it alone, but there was something that drew you there. It was like your weight was pulled into the orbit of this forbidden part of town. It was never empty, never quiet, no matter what it seemed. Much like Gotham, there was always more than what met the eye. There was always a ghost behind the dumpster, in the shadows, or in this case, on a rooftop.
You had scaled a building two blocks from where the alley begun in Newtown. Passing over the top of a couple of buildings, you were listening for a scream, a rush of footsteps, a gunshot, anything. But for once, it was quiet, too quiet. For all the years you lived in Gotham, silence never lingered in the air too long. Something was bound to happen.
Then you see him. The vigilante who didn’t know what “too far” meant. The vigilante who’d stirred up controversy in the press for taking matters into his own hands. Who went against the words your father had practically branded with an iron on your brain, Vengeance is not Justice.
The Red Hood stood at the edge of a building in front of you. The skinny alley in between you was suddenly nonexistent. There was an unspoken rule for everyone of sticking to your own turf, but much to your father and Alfred’s dismay, you never were one for rules.
The mask betrayed no emotion, but the squared broadness of his shoulders did. He wasn’t particularly fond of the visitor the early morning brought. You stared at each other silently daring to see who would move first. One of your few virtues was that you always won staring contests and silent games. You gave your father credit for that. He was never one for showing his emotions, didn’t talk unless necessary, no grand displays of affection. He was very monotone and thanks to him, you rarely lost standoffs.
Red Hood was… more on the difficult end of the spectrum. He didn’t work with the bats, but he didn't work against them either. There was an expansive grey area that covered when they were allies or potential enemies; you all just never knew where you landed. This night was no different.
“What’re you doing?” You’d heard him ask straight to the point over the restless wind.
“The usual” You shrugged, “On patrol, you know how it is” you offered trying to keep your voice airy and neutral to see where you landed amongst the ambiguity tonight.
“Yeah well, I’ve got this covered.”
He left no room for invitation to continue the conversation, but you never gave up that easily.
“And what’s ‘covered’ code for tonight? Hm?” You tilt your head to the left, mocking him. “Shooting someone square in the head? Or beating them till they look like the pulp in my pomegranate juice?”
He didn't find it funny.
“Leave, or I’ll make you leave.”
That answers your question about how his mood tonight. The alleyway separating you both seemed like you were an ocean apart and right next to each other at the same time. You couldn’t ignore the familiarity of his voice; it rang in your ears and tugged at your brain to drag more words out of him. You knew him but you couldn’t figure out where you knew him from. It was your business to know the identities of the masked vigilantes in Gotham, considering most of them ran around with you and your father.
“I’m starting to think I might want you to make me.”
Maybe flirting wasn’t the best way to go about this, but hell it worked for Dick sometimes. Maybe it’ll work for you.
“You re-” he began before a scream echoed through the air.
The cry for help came from a few blocks behind Red Hood, and he turned around to try and spot where it came from. You looked past him to the streets of this cursed city, trying to find where they might be.
The scream had sliced through the tension that hung in the air, and Red Hood spared you a look over his shoulder before taking off into the night. You held his gaze through your masks for that brief moment and followed quickly behind him. Landing in the spots he had stepped in, following the trail he left behind.
Finally reaching the sketchy street, he jumped onto the cover of an old, battered dumpster while you took in the scene crouched on the rooftop. There was a woman, about thirty in a charcoal grey pantsuit with her arms in the air. Her purse hanging in the crook of her left elbow and a pistol to her temple. Three men with black ski masks had trapped her against the wall.
“Well, that’s not nice now, is it?” You hear the resident vigilante taunt.
The men turned around wide-eyed realizing who had come to this poor woman’s aide. Rumors of the man who killed with no remorse had been whispered through Gotham’s underground. Criminals prayed for Batman and his little gang of sidekicks over this. The Red Hood showing up, to most, was a fate worse than death.
Still perched on the edge of the building, you’d noticed that they had turned away from the woman and her arms were still in the air. Taking the grappling hook out of your utility belt, you aim at the woman’s left arm.
Shooting before the men can turn around and when it goes taut, you yank her the length of the building to your side. She yelps while being pulled up and you quickly remove her from the sight of the men below.
She regains her balance on the roof while taking a few steps back. Her eyes are shining with unshed tears of fear and gratitude. She looks like she can barely hold herself together, and empathy swamps you. Being a woman in Gotham wasn’t easy, you couldn’t go out at night by yourself, and you had to avoid like eighty percent of town if you did. Even in that twenty percent of town that was semi safe to walk through, you still had to keep your guard up. You’ve had your own scares, but you’d had the luxury of being trained by Bruce Wayne from a young age. You could hold off the men who held you at gun point trying to rob you. Not everyone was blessed to have that type of training.
“Th-Thank You” she manages to get out while shaking.
“Don’t mention it” You give her a smile that doesn’t quite meet your eyes.
“I- I know I should’ve probably gotten a cab but I di-didn't have enough cash and-” She’s stumbling over her words trying to explain herself and tears start to stream down her cheeks. The full moon lights her face and adds a cruel glimmer to the tears while they pour.
“Hey, it’s okay we’ve got you” You rub her arms trying to comfort her. “Everyone’s just trying their best to get by, I get that. You’re going to be just fine, don’t worry”
She nods while wiping her tears and attempts to hide them, but her shoulders betray her as the sobs arise from her throat. You’re about to comfort the woman some more until you hear punches being thrown below. You look behind you frantically while still rubbing the woman’s shoulder, weighing your options. You could stay on the roof and try to calm her mental state, but then you hear groaning from down below and sigh.
You turn back to the woman, “Stay here, okay? Give me a couple minutes, I’m going to deal with them down there and then get you home.’
She nods while she continues to wipe her eyes, and you can see the shock still pumping through her veins when you turn away from her.
Heading back to the edge of the roof, you see Red Hood fist fighting all of the men at once. He’s throwing them against the dumpster and the brick wall that lines the road to Hell. One of the men stands further from the other two and that’s when you pick your battle jumping off the building onto his shoulders.
While he’s disoriented at the sudden presence, you take out your nun chucks and hold the chain around his neck while locking his arms with your legs. He punches and claws at your calves when you feel his breath coming out in short breaths. You pull tighter while he gasps digging his hand so hard into your ankle, you're sure it’ll bruise. He stumbles backwards, slamming you both into the wall and your head ricochets almost knocking you out. The pounding in your head doesn’t stop you from one last pull against his neck and he finally goes slack dropping to the floor.
Stepping over the unconscious man and turning back to the fight, you watch as the unwanted ally of the night takes out the gun that was strapped to his thigh. He points it at the man to his left. It feels like you see this happening in slow motion and in a desperate horror you take out your grappling hook again before he can pull the trigger and shoot at the man’s leg. You pull your trigger in time to pull the man to the ground landing on his face. You hear him cry out in pain as he breaks his nose, but a broken nose is better than a dead one.
“Don’t.” you tell the vigilante donned in red and black with a voice as deadly as his when he told you to leave earlier. He may be willing to kill, but you’re not.
He doesn’t offer you any words at your distaste for his methods. With the split second of your interaction the last man had grabbed a lead pipe from the floor and smashed the Red Hood’s mask with it. Not entirely sure how he’s still standing after taking a solid metal pole to the face your mouth drops in shock when the hooded man barely flinches.
The mask cracks enough to see his left eye and the scars that paint stories of pain. You see emerald green eyes that are alive and angry. Emerald eyes you’ve seen before. You pause while looking at him, and that was your first honest mistake of the night.
In the seconds it took you to recover from the sudden recognition, Red Hood had moved the gun to his other hand and shot the man straight in the forehead.
Looks like “covered” did mean shooting someone square in the face for tonight.
He dropped like a marionette whose strings had all just been cut. The previously loud alleyway had gone mute. The men not even groaning anymore after the gunshot rang through everyone’s ears.
“You can’t do that” you exclaim at him, eyes wide. “You can’t just kill everyone who does something wrong.”
That doesn’t earn you much besides an unimpressed look from him.
“They wouldn’t have ever stopped” he says while holding your gaze and the identity of the man in front of you is on the tip of your tongue. You’ve heard this voice before, and the nostalgia claws up your throat when it recognizes that this isn’t the first time you’ve fought with him either.
“You don’t know that.” The exasperation at his ways evident in your motions as you point to the dead man at his feet. “And now we’ll never know either, will we?”
He looks almost cynical to you, obviously not agreeing with your hopeful opinion on how crime should be dealt with. “You have too much faith in people. In change.” He deadpans as if it was that simple.
“You don’t have enough faith.” You quip back at him.
Then, in that moment, he looks away and scoffs before telling you words that will render you speechless. The reveal that will cause you to relive this night for months.
“I can’t believe you still follow Bruce’s peace pact he seems to have with all of Gotham’s terrors. But I can’t say I’m all that surprised, you know what they say,” he pauses, and moves his heavy gaze back to meet your eyes, looking right through you. “Like father like daughter.”
That’s when the wave of nostalgia crashes over you like the grandest wave of a tsunami growing in the pacific. The green eyes and the voice that’s haunted your nightmares since the night your father came home without his faithful Robin. The scars you saw at the open casket. The revelation hits you like a geyser exploding in Yellowstone.
Jason Todd was the Red Hood.
He was standing in front of you.
Alive.
“No…” is all you can say and you’re not sure if he hears it. You’re almost convinced that the whistle of the wind carries it away, but a low, dry, and pessimistic laugh escapes him.
He doesn’t get the chance to say anything else when another masked vigilante dressed in black with a blue bird plastered on his chest drops on the fire escape to your right.
“Well, well, well, look what we have here” Dick Grayson’s voice shocks you like an alarm waking you up too early. He’s leaning on his arms against the railing with that infectious smile that seems to live on his mouth. He looked like he was about to laugh at the scene in front of him, not knowing that his adopted dead brother was standing right there. You were rooted to your spot on the broken cobblestone, frozen in place when Jason turns to Dick annoyed. He doesn’t say anything to him and pointedly ignores him when he climbs to the roof. You hear him distantly find the lady and go to escort her home safely.
You can’t do much but stare at the spot where he was previously standing, trying to wrap your head around the news. Trying to think of a logic explanation that would cause someone to come back from the dead.
Oblivious as ever, Dick jumps down and scoffs, “What was that about?”
When he finally looks at you, Dick realizes that this wasn’t a particularly enjoyable reunion. He looks at you and sees that you’re completely zoned out and all color has drained from your face. He grabs your shoulders, trying to ground you while saying somethings you don’t hear. When you don’t move or make eye contact with him, he starts to gently shake you.
“What happened?” A serious edge prominent in his voice when he realizes something is very wrong, and under the domino mask you can see his eyebrows pull together in worry.
You don’t answer for a moment, still trying to remember how to breathe.
He’s alive is all you can think to yourself.
He’s fucking alive.
“It’s Jason” you breathe out.
“What?” Dick’s eyebrows pull together in confusion now contrasting the worry that threaded them together seconds ago.
“Jason” you swallow. “Red hood is…” and you can’t quite get the words out, can’t admit it.
Dick just stares at you with a sudden understanding and you couldn’t be more grateful that he was here, because by some miracle he always held it together.
You truly don’t know how he does it. How he acts like this isn’t a bomb that just dropped and destroyed everything you once knew. How he merely swallowed and nodded with acknowledgement. You felt like a boulder that couldn’t move, heavy and tired. Then, he gives you a slight push with his hand on your shoulder that transforms you into a feather floating in the air.
“Let’s go back to the cave.” He suggests firmly. “We have to tell Bruce.”
“Okay” was all you could get out.
And with that, you somehow got the courage to move out of the alley that fundamentally changed your understanding of life.
࿐࿔ 𓅪 ˚ ✦ . ~ ⋆ 𓆩 ☆ 𓆪 ⋆ ~ . ✦ ˚ 𓅪 ࿐࿔
That’s how you got to where you are now. Staring at the roof of the cave that you grew up in. The cave that taught you love, the cave that taught you pain, and the cave that taught you the horrors of Gotham.
You move your head back down and glance back at the Robin suit that looks out of time.
You had given the glasses of your suit to Dick when you guys arrived back at the cave. He gave them to Tim so he would download the footage, and they could see the evidence themselves. Dick was the one who broke the news to them. They all spoke in hushed tones behind you at the bat computer while you stood in front of the different suits your father had worn and retired.
You haven’t spoken since the alley, not being able to process what you saw. You went over the facts that had been tattooed on your heart for years.
Jason Todd had died.
Jason Todd had died young and desperate.
Jason Todd had died after getting brutally torn apart by the Joker.
Jason Todd had a funeral.
And despite everything you knew, all the proof you had. Jason Todd was alive and fighting crime in Gotham. He was alive and killing.
The agony that arose in your chest while looking at the suit almost tore you in half.
He was eleven when you met and fourteen when he died. You were two months younger than him, and he never failed to remind you of it. Always teasing you since you were, barely, younger than him.
It was nice to have someone your age in the cave. Dick was fun to hang out with, but he was more of like an older brother than a friend to you. You two were close but didn’t get super close until Jason died., clinging onto each other to cope with the loss.
Jason, on the other hand, was your best friend. You two were inseparable. Your father enrolled you in school together, which didn’t help the fact that you were both attached at the hip. He was the one who helped you convince Bruce to let you join them on patrols. He wouldn’t let you go on the more serious missions despite your training out of protective nature, but he would let you tag along every now and then.
It was no shock to anyone that you had a crush on Jason when you were kids. The stolen glances, grinning ear to ear all the time, laughing at his unfunny jokes. It was obvious to everyone except both of you that you liked each other. You never admitted it, but you didn’t have to. Everyone knew.
The day your father came back almost killed you. You knew you’d never forget that night.
When he got out of the bat mobile with his suit shredded. The last sliver of hope you clung to dying when you didn’t see anything in the passenger seat. Not a body, not a boy, not a suit. It was empty and stained a deep maroon. You froze in place standing in the center of the walkway when he approached you and placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. He reeked of grief, drenched in blood not entirely sure who it belonged too. His shoulders slumped, and he could hardly look at you without sadness drowning his blue eyes.
You knew Jason had gone off to search for his mother, following a lead. You knew he got trapped and tricked by the Joker. The chaos that came from searching for him with your heart in your throat the whole night was nothing short of cruel. When his location was discovered, your father left without a word moving as fast as he physically could to save him. Time was running out. There was almost enough time. He was almost safe. He almost made it. But almost wasn’t enough.
Jason Todd was lost to the world.
Another death haunting this fucking family.
Bruce held you when you hit the floor of the cave and cried that night. He carried you to bed and asked Alfred to stay the night in your room. You’d never tell him, but you heard his carefully practiced stoicism break when he sniffled during the early hours of the morning when he thought you were asleep. Whether it was from the pain of losing Jason, witnessing the innocence you lost, history repeating itself, or maybe a combination of all three, you’ll never know.
“How’re you holding up?”
A voice evidently going through puberty takes you from your thoughts, and you look over at a different boy in a Robin suit.
Looking at Tim in his Robin suit breaks your heart clean in half. The bitter nostalgia and pity are a little too heavy for your chest to hold in one piece. You know he carries the weight of the world on his shoulders. Trying to live up to Dick Grayson and a dead Robin were the worst shoes to fill, you would know. You spent your whole life trying to prove to your father that you could be one of them.
Letting out a deep breath you offer him a broken smile, “How do you think I’m holding up?”
“That bad huh?” He asks you over the rim of his coffee mug.
“Yeah” you breathe out turning your head straight again.
You two slip into silence for a couple minutes. Dick, Alfred, and your dad are at the other side of the hall looking over the footage, trying to find the logic and the backstory while tripping over the computer. You should help, you were there, but what else could you do? You gave them everything you had. You don’t remember much from the interaction but the stark glimmer of his green eyes. Eyes, you never thought you’d meet again.
You feel tears trying to pry themselves free from the dungeon of your eyes, threatening to spill on your cheeks. You blink them back as fast as you can, trying to bury them deep within your body among the other secrets stacked in your bones.
How is someone expected to cope with this? How do you cope when the first boy you fell in love with died and then came back to life four years later?
Faintly breaking the silence, Tim asks so quietly you almost miss it.
“What was he like?”
You turn your head slightly to look at him with an eyebrow raised.
“Jason- I mean. I know Red Hood, but I never knew Jason.” He’s not meeting your eyes while steadily staring ahead at the preserved memory. “I never wanted to ask, ya know? How do you bring up the dead guy that came before you? I got snippets of him from stories sometimes, but that was it.”
You exhale at the innocence of his question. How do you answer that? There weren’t words that fit him. Jason was… everything. He was the brightness of the sun, the salt in the sea, and cold breeze on a July afternoon. He was the hope that there was good in the world. He was what inspired you to be a better person. A better friend. A better fighter.
“Jason was my best friend.” You answer hesitantly. “He was a good guy. He never made you feel stupid, he always made you laugh, and he was determined.” You laugh bitterly. That was the trait that got him killed. “Once he got it in his head that he was going to do something there was no changing it.”
Tim nods, accepting the information. He spares you a look from the corner of his eyes and sees the remains of a sour expression. He takes a sip of coffee from the red mug and after he swallows, he opens his mouth about to say something when an older voice cuts in.
“Master Tim, Master Bruce would like to speak if you have a moment.”
You turn around and the only grandfather figure you’ve ever known is standing next to you with perfect posture and a tray in his hands. Alfred Pennyworth is the best man you know and he’s proving that with the contents of the platter in his hand. There are chocolate chip cookies and a glass of water perfectly balanced and spread out.
Tim nods at Alfred and calls out a “Thanks” behind him after swiping a cookie and eating half of it with one bite. You pretend you don’t hear him choking on it while he goes down the stairs after the cookie went down faster than he intended it to.
You glance back at Alfred and behind his typical indifferent expression you can see the somber that hides in the lines of his mouth with his lips pressed too tightly together. In this family, that for some odd reason makes it its mission to bury their emotions, you eventually learned how to pick up on small changes that hide their true feelings.
Alfred then balances the tray on his left hand with the fingers spread out underneath it, with his right hand he grabs the glass of water and hands it to you. You take it from him and drink half the glass in one go, not realizing how thirsty you’d been. He doesn’t take his eyes off you while you chug, making sure you do get some form of sustenance.
“Thank you, Alfred” you try to smile.
“It is my pleasure, Miss” He assures you in his incredibly formal accent. “How are you feeling? Can I offer you a cookie?”
You snort at the last question, since you were a kid, anytime you were sad, no matter what had happened, he would bring you cookies. Whether it was your fault or someone else's, he always brought you the pastry.
You don’t want to be rude, so you take one and nibble on it even though you’re lacking an appetite at the moment. “Thank you and I’m doing alright, I guess. What about you? How’re you doing?”
Alfred sees right through your “alright” but thankfully, he doesn’t push it. “I will not do you the disservice of lying to you Miss Wayne, I am quite shocked. I was not expecting to hear of Master Jason again and I am… worried for him” He also stole a look at Jason’s old Robin costume, and the somber lines dig deeper into his face.
“Me too.” You sigh.
There’s a beat of silence before Alfred begins again. “Miss Wayne, I do not wish to overstep. However, I do believe it would be beneficial to attempt in getting some rest.” You turn to look at him and see worry migrate to his eyes and his voice softens. “You have experienced a more difficult evening than most.”
Out of everyone you held close, Alfred saw how you felt about Jason and your relationship the most. He was the one who supervised you both, cooked for you, sat with you, and helped you. He was there for all of it. He knew what losing Jason meant and did to you.
He was the one who saw that your feelings toward Jason were not unrequited, despite what both of you believed. He saw the sprinkle of innocence that remained in you that was young love. The tiny crushes you had on each other. Alfred witnessed the way your heart crumbled to the floor when Bruce came back with the news. He’s looking at you know with the same caution waiting for you to break.
“I don’t think I could sleep now if I tried.” You huff.
“You would be surprised how quickly a body can shut down when you rest your head.” He tries to convince you.
“Alfred-” You start to gently fight against the idea of going to bed when you hear your father's unmistakable voice cuts in.
“You’re going to bed, end of discussion.” He stands tall behind you. He’s dressed in his suit without the mask on, and you can’t decide what version of him is more intimidating. The version of him in a half a million-dollar tuxedo, or the version of him that delivered justice to the worst citizens of Gotham.
“No, I’m not.” You turn to look at him and hold his gaze defiantly. It was times like these that Bruce Wayne hated that his daughter was exactly like him. There was nothing scarier than a mini-Bruce trapped inside the body of a seventeen-year-old girl.
He stared at you with his eyes narrowing slightly but not enough to be threatening. You didn’t look away, and you swore you heard a water droplet echo through the cave while you both fought with unsaid words, but gazes that were firing.
“You need to get out of the cave.” His eyes soften with the slight growth of his pupils. Bruce wished he was a better father, that he could hold her and show her that it’s okay to break, but he can’t. He has to hold it together for them, because if he doesn’t, everything he’s done, everything he’s worked for will come crashing down. “You don’t have to go to bed, just go upstairs, step away for a moment. You’re too lost in your head right now.”
You don’t answer right away, debating if you should take the olive branch he offered you. Bruce Wayne never offered a compromise. His words were law; decisions were final.
“Fine” is all you said to him.
He didn’t need to know what you were secretly planning to do when you went upstairs, so you accept the offer. Right before you turn away, you're glued to the floor when your father lightly places a hand on your shoulder.
“I know this isn’t easy. I know what you’re feeling. We’re going to find him.” His voice is softer than you’ve ever heard. The warmth in his voice rivaling the feeling of covering yourself with your favorite blanket when it comes out of the dryer.
“I know.” You whisper back, not being able to talk any louder without risking your voice cracking.
You turn away after flashing a quick smile at Alfred that he mirrors back, and you head down the stairs. You feel Dick and Tim's eyes on the back of your head, but you walk with your head down avoiding eye contact. You’re scared that if anyone sees the look on your face, they’ll uncover your plan.
Your footsteps ring like church bells at noon while walking through the cave. When you reach the elevator, you look up one last time to see the four men staring back at you, all with different expressions but with the same emotion: guilt.
Like they were personally responsible for what happened, when you all knew they weren’t. But somehow, they had all managed to blame themselves for this.
࿐࿔ 𓅪 ˚ ✦ . ~ ⋆ 𓆩 ☆ 𓆪 ⋆ ~ . ✦ ˚ 𓅪 ࿐࿔
Here Lies Jason Todd, Ally & Friend
You’d been staring at the grave for the better part of an hour. You sit in front of it with your knees brought under your chin and for the first time that night, your mind quiets down. It was practically second nature to come here; you came at least twice a month. You used to come every week, but things got hectic and you couldn’t come as often.
You don’t really know what you’re doing here anymore because Jason isn’t six feet under you. He’s out there somewhere. You used to think if you came here and talked to the stone that he would be listening from wherever he was.
Now you’re sitting here talking to a stone that is nothing but a memorial of the worst years of your life. It took you a couple months to build the courage to come to the grave after the funeral, but once you did, you felt better. You always brought flowers and a story. Keeping him updated on what he was missing out on. Little fights you’d have with Dad, Dick being overprotective, or funny stories of Alfred putting the family in their place. It was a small comfort that you allowed yourself, a sliver of light that cracked through the darkness of the Gotham sky.
You snuck out the house from the half bathroom in the right wing on the first floor. Your dad and Alfred never figured out how you sneaked out despite having done so a good number of times. You never went to that bathroom during the day, so they wouldn’t suspect it. You had walked to the library and stayed there for a couple minutes, knowing that your father would be looking at the cameras to see where you went.
Then after you counted to a thousand you slipped to the area of the library that the cameras didn’t reach and stayed in the shadows. Silently thanking your earlier self who didn't change out of her suit, to make this easier. You waited another minute or two and when you didn’t hear anyone down the hall or at the door, you bolted. You knew how to make your way through the manor avoiding the cameras. Years of training that your father instilled in you, backfired on him big time. You reached the bathroom after slipping through the hallways.
Slowly unscrewing the loose windowpane, you pull it toward you and rest it on the lid of the toilet. You hop up sticking both your legs through and sitting on the windowsill you lean back to pick up the windowpane. You get your body through the crack in the wall and quietly prop the glass back up to make it look like it’s in its place.
Letting out a deep breath when your feet hit the grass that no one caught you, you turn around and disappear into the wind.
You already prepared the story that you were going to tell your dad when you got back to the manor, because no matter what, Bruce Wayne always found out. He may not have caught you in the moment, but he would realize eventually. He wouldn’t be too mad you tried to tell yourself. It’s not like you snuck out to go to a party or fight crime on your own. No, you snuck out to the cemetery to visit the grave of your best friend. He wouldn’t like it regardless because you lied to him and snuck out in the middle of the night going past the middle ground you agreed to stand in.
You haven’t said anything since arriving, just kind of disassociating at his grave. It was around four in the morning now and the birds started cawing in the distance.
When did everything get so complicated? It used to be so simple.
You didn’t bring flowers this time. The lilies you brought last Saturday sat propped up under his name, laughing at you. A weak breeze passes by you and moves your hair over your shoulder and knocks over the lilies. And that’s what does it.
That’s what breaks you.
A tear runs down your cheek, then another, and before you know it, a stream has drowned the apple of your cheeks and your convulsing at the Gotham City Cemetery. It’s empty and no one is here, so you let it all out. The sobs you swallowed for years, the cries that you wanted to let go, the anger you held toward the world for ripping your best friend from you. Snot runs down your nostrils, and you don’t stop crying. There’s no point in holding back anymore.
Alfred’s attempt at hydrating you in the cave earlier has gone to waste now since you’ve cried your body dry.
“I didn’t think anyone came to visit me.” You hear from behind you.
Muscle memory is what saves you from feeling embarrassed of being caught crying. You jump to your feet, nun chunks in hand, fist raised high, ready for a fight. Hearing rustling next to you, you’re getting ready to swing when your breath catches in your throat.
Standing in front of you was Jason Todd. He was in his Red Hood Uniform with his mask in his left hand and a gun pointed at you with his right hand. You saw the face you’d been dreaming of for years. He looked older than he really was. Scars littered on his face, and you were drawn to the faint “J” on his cheek that he’d been branded with. The slight patch of white in his hair contrasting the remaining coffee brown hair.
He looked like he’d been through Hell and back. Which almost pushed you to cry more. He used to be so happy and full of light, but that was all gone now. Behind the green eyes you once found comfort in, you only saw anger and abandonment now.
You both repeat the same actions form earlier, staring at each other silently. Never in a million years did you think that you’d be standing across Jason Todd again, and about to fight each other either.
“How long have you been standing there?” You’re suddenly grateful it’s dark out, so he can’t see the flush of obvious mortification on your face.
“Long enough”
He’s trying to act casual, and it’s starting to piss you off.
“What are you even doing here?”
“Couldn’t sleep” he shrugs, gun unwavering. “I haven’t ever really seen my grave and thought I'd come check it out.”
If you weren’t so drained, you might have laughed, but you can’t. Accusations start to slip from your lips, and you’re still prepared for a fight.
“Why didn’t you come back?”
“Why would I?” He doesn’t hesitate to respond.
“Jason-” You couldn’t even attempt to hide how dejected you sounded before he cuts you off.
“No- Jason, nothing. You guys made your choices and I’m making mine.” The anger in his voice cut right through you, holding yourself by sheer will you try to reach him.
“We did everything that we could. We searched everywhere for you, pulled all nighters-practically tore Gotham apart trying to find you-”
“You think this is about you not saving me? No, no, no, I forgive you for that.” Despite what he was claiming, there was no acceptance in his voice. “No, this is about him. Imagine my surprise when I wake up and see that that piece of death-worshipping shit is still terrorizing Gotham!”
He didn’t have to specify. You knew who he was talking about. How could you not?
“Jason-”
“No! If it was you, or Bruce, or Alfred, Hell even Dick? I would have destroyed Gotham until I ripped him limb from limb for taking any of you from me.” The words sound like they were being ripped from him and the pain in his voice is almost too much to bear. Tears start climbing to your eyes again. “This isn’t the Riddler, or Dent, or Penguin. No, it’s him.”
“He’s an Iranian diplomat.” You cringed at yourself with how desperate you sound. “We couldn’t do anything he has diplomatic immunity. If something happens to him and it's our fault, what do you think happens then? What happens when Batman kills?”
“There you go again with that moral code of yours.” He rolls his eyes and laughs like he can’t quite believe what you’re saying.
“He won’t kill and you know that. He made that vow to himself forever ago.” You raised your voice, not caring what time of day it was or where you were. “All he has are his morals. He is who he is.”
“I thought I meant more to him than that.”
“You meant more to him than you know.”
He laughs, not believing you. “Then why is the Joker still alive?”
“Because you don’t solve crime by stooping to their level.” The words come out robotic and rehearsed. You’d heard your father repeat this to you a million times when you wanted to take the easy way out. He’d tell you this weekly, either in the cave or on a mission.
He didn’t have anything to say to that. All the humor he’d previously found in the situation vanished. You drop your hands to your side still holding your nun chunks, but he doesn’t move his arm.
His chest is rising and falling quickly taking deep breaths while you try to control yours. With the gun unwavering you decide to test your luck. You walk up to him, and line up the center of your forehead with his pistol. You see him stutter with his breath and tears have started unapologetically falling down your face again.
As Bruce Wayne’s daughter and Batman’s sidekick, this wasn’t the first time you’d been held at gunpoint, and it wouldn’t be the last. So, you do what you do best, you stare danger in the eyes and pray it works out in your favor. Putting all your trust into the boy you once knew, hoping he’s still buried inside this angry body somewhere.
“He may not be dead, but it wasn’t from lack of trying.” Voice cracking, you take a shaky breath before continuing. “Do you really think Dick or Bruce were pulling their punches? Do you think they could hold it together? They couldn’t forgive themselves- they still haven’t. They buried themselves in their guilt. They almost died trying to bring justice to your name.”
“And what about you?”
The silence is heavy in the air of the cemetery. There’s a distant creaking of the entrance gate from the wind pushing it. Sirens constantly blaring a few blocks away adding to the Gotham charm.
“I stopped fighting for a bit.” You tell him honestly with tears lining your cheeks. “I couldn’t find a reason to get up anymore. There was nothing to look forward to anymore. We’d lost and evil won when they took you from us. You probably don’t believe any of this, but you meant more to me than you think.”
His green eyes cracked a little bit when he saw your attempt at a smile, and you swear you saw your best friend for the first time that night. He drops the gun to his side, and a million pounds have been lifted from your shoulders. There’s still a mountain of tension separating you, but you climbed over a bit of it.
“They dropped me in the Lazarus Pit a while back.” He looks away when he talks. “When I woke up, I didn’t know what was happening. The only thing I knew was anger.”
Your back straightens when he starts talking. Ra’s had beat death countless times from the Pit and you can’t mask the way your face falls knowing they’d dropped Jason in it. It doesn’t revive the same version of the person that died, it brings them back different. They suffer from rage and madness. It changes the brain chemistry of the person; it’s why Ra’s was worse every time you encountered him. You were never fighting the same person.
“I forgot a lot when they woke me up. It took me a while to recover my memories. I didn’t know anything except anger for a really long time, I was just this embodiment of resentment.” He pauses before continuing. “I didn’t know much, but I always knew you.”
You have to fight to not choke on your breath. He turns to look back at you with an unreadable look in his eyes that you can’t digest.
“Jason…”
“I know what you’re going to say, and no. I can’t. I can’t go back.” He takes a deep breath and looks away. “Not yet anyway.”
Still speechless at his declaration, you take a small step toward him and place a hand on his cheek. He flinches slightly not expecting the touch but then leans his cheek into your palm. You rub your thumb over the J shaped scar, and he closes his eyes when he realizes.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” Is all you can come up with, mentally kicking yourself that your brain is short-circuiting right now. He opens his eyes and holds your gaze.
He looks so scared under the rough demeanor he holds, and you soften your eyes silently comforting him. You want to hug him and take all his pain away, wash away all the sins he’s committed, heal the trauma that this world put him through. He didn’t deserve any of it, he was just a boy that wanted to be loved.
“I loved- love you.” He whispers, almost as if it’s forbidden for him to admit.
Heart slamming against your ribs, you look back at him and finally tell him what you’ve wanted to say to him for years. “I love you too.”
You share this bittersweet moment with him and there’s a slight upturn of his mouth. A tear falls from his eyes, and you wipe it quickly with your thumb.
“Do you think if I hadn’t left on that mission- if I played my cards right, that maybe we would’ve found our way to each other?” He lets down his guard and asks you so innocently that it robs you of your breath away. Tears continuing to escape your eyes now too and he drops the mask on the floor and wipes it with his red-stained hands. He leaves his hand cradling your cheek, holding you so gently like he’s scared he’ll hurt you. You move your free hand to hold his against your cheek, squeezing it, trying to remind yourself that this is real and he’s here. That this isn’t some sick figment of your imagination.
“I think that in every universe, against all odds, Jason Todd. I would’ve fallen in love with you.”
There’s a comfortable silence following your confession, seeing each other in a new light. Finally holding each other and stripping yourselves bare in order to truly see each other with no armor for the first time.
He looks mournful when he tells you that he can’t stay. You nod your head, understanding that he has to go. Neither of you move. Drinking each other in because you don’t know the next time you’ll see each other. The next time you’ll share another moment in the moonlight.
“I’ll come back to you one day.” He looks so pained that you can’t be mad at him for leaving. He isn’t in his right mind, and you know that. He needs to be alone for a while. “I promise.”
“You better, or I’ll tell Alfred on you.” You try to joke with him.
He laughs and takes you in one last time before dropping a kiss on your forehead. It lingers and in spite of the cold of the morning you feel that spot blazing with the warmth of the kiss. You close your eyes and hear him walk away not being able to watch him walk away again.
You know he will come back one day, and you’ll be waiting. You’ll always wait for Jason Todd.
Once you’re sure he’s gone and left you in the graveyard you drop to your knees. Letting yourself cry again. You bend over with your hair cascading around you, blocking your face. Sobbing into your hands at how unfair the world had to be. Bringing back the boy you loved and warping him into this being that is in a constant state of suffering. You don’t even care that you sneaked out anymore, don’t even care if your dad finds you out the house, you don’t rush anything anymore, you just sit and cry alone, again.
࿐࿔ 𓅪 ˚ ✦ . ~ ⋆ 𓆩 ☆ 𓆪 ⋆ ~ . ✦ ˚ 𓅪 ࿐࿔
Alfred Pennyworth has been standing in the distance waiting outside the cemetery for the daughter he never had. She doesn’t know he’s there and he makes sure to keep it that way, allowing her the privacy she needs. He will wait until she stands ready to leave and act like he has just arrived to pick her up.
He watches the boy he had a hand in raising, tell her he loved her. He sees the pain in their body language when they recognize that they can’t be together and feels the abandonment weighing on them when he leaves her.
Alfred approaches the man when he exits the cemetery and he jumps not hearing the approach.
“Master Jason,” he turns around wide-eyed. “Please do us the service of staying safe.”
He doesn’t say anything else. Hoping that he understands everything unsaid. Hoping he realizes that this family will not survive losing him again. Hoping he knows that they will be here for him no matter what.
He blinks, surprised that that’s all he has to say. Shocked that he’s not trying to convince him to come back to the manor with them. But then again, Alfred never wasted his breath and accepted everyone’s decisions. He knew everyone had to make their own mistakes, their own paths in life.
“I will Alfred.” He promises and turns around. He doesn’t even take two steps before he pauses and looks over his shoulder.
“Can you do something for me?”
“Anything, Sir.” He doesn’t hesitate.
“Take care of her for me.” He swallows the lump in his throat. “Try to keep her out of trouble and make her smile if you can, she’s been through enough.”
“So have you sir.” Alfred responds with an eyebrow raise and earns a huff from Jason. “But yes, I will do my best.”
“Thank you, Alfred.” Is the last thing he says before taking off into the night.
Alfred Pennyworth watches Jason Todd walk away into the night, but he doesn’t see the Red Hood that Gotham knows and fears. No, he sees the little boy that Bruce Wayne brought home. The boy who stole tires off the bat mobile. The boy who lived on the streets and had a heart of gold. The boy who left to find his mother and never came back.
Hopefully this time after he walks away, he’ll find his way back home. Where you all will be waiting for him with open arms.
A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed and lmk in the comments if you liked and want some more dc one shots :)
ᯓ➤ matching for christmas ⊹܀˙
← ʙᴀᴄᴋ. ⋮ ⌞ jason todd ✘ reader ⌝ .ᐟ .ᐟ
ৎׅ ׄ synopsis ⋮ You get kidnapped and branded by the joker on christmas. The bat-family sees Jason unravel. word cnt. 14.6k
cw ›››› torture, branding
sneak peak at the Christmas fic that's going to be posted later today !!
Because you—you—aren’t alone. You’re trapped with seven other people. Four of them children, Bruce had said, like that word didn’t rearrange Jason’s insides completely. His mind does something traitorous then, something he hates himself for even acknowledging: it calculates. It knows how these things go. It knows Joker’s sense of theater, his appetite for cruelty, his fondness for leaving one survivor behind as punctuation.
And the last one standing is never the strongest.
It’s the smallest.
Jason’s breath stutters, just once.
“Jason,” Bruce says from the Batcomputer, voice tight, forced into calm the way it always is when he’s terrified. The blue glow paints him hollow, all sharp angles and restraint. “Don’t make me stop you. The cops are on their way. Joker just wants cash.”
Bruce says it like he doesn't know damn well that monster would shoot the first thing it sees right after he gets it.
For the first time since the harbor, the noise in Jason’s head goes quiet.
Not peaceful—focused.
Everything in Jason's brain narrows down to Bruce. To the way his shoulders are squared like a barricade. To the way his hands hover, uncertain, like he’s trying to decide whether to reach out or brace for impact. Jason’s heart hammers so hard it hurts, louder than the waterfall, louder than any threat Batman could ever make.
“If you even try, Bruce,” Jason says.
He doesn’t look at him when he says it. He can’t. The name comes out wrong in his mouth—too raw, too intimate, scraped down to bone. Instead, he keeps his eyes on Tim, standing rigid in front of him, small in a way Jason suddenly can’t stop seeing. He hopes—distantly, uselessly—that he isn’t glaring at his little brother. Hopes Tim understands this isn’t anger.
It’s gravity.
“Ill fucking shoot myself. I’ll make sure you know it’s your fault,” Jason continues, voice low and shaking despite his effort to keep it steady. “I’ll use my gun. And if you tie me up today, I’ll wait until next week. If you lock me down for a week, I’ll wait a month. I’ll do it.”
He swallows.
Because that’s the only thing that’s ever worked.
The only language Bruce Wayne couldn't ignores.
Dick moves fast—too fast—grabbing Jason’s arm where it’s still braced near Tim, fingers digging in hard. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” he shouts, panic cracking straight through his anger.
Jason turns on him then, eyes blazing, voice breaking loose at last.
“Would you be this still?” Jason yells back. “If that was me with Joker again? If it was me instead of her—would you have left me there for the police to find? Again?”
The word hangs between them, heavy and damning.
Jason knows Dick well enough to see it land. To watch his brother’s grip falter, fingers loosening like they’ve forgotten what they were holding onto in the first place. Dick’s face goes pale, mouth parting uselessly, and Jason twists the knife—not because he wants to hurt him, but because he needs them to understand.
“This,” Jason snaps, shoving his helmet back onto his head with shaking hands, visor snapping into place. “This is why none of you fucking knew about her.”
He looks at all of them now—really looks. At Bruce, frozen behind the console like a man staring down a live bomb. At Dick, wrecked with guilt. At Tim who still stares at him like he's staring through him. At Damian and Stephanie who he'd laugh at later for the faces they are making. At Cassandra and Alfred who look at him the same way they always do. Like he's a solider who crawled from the dead. They think that's a good thing.
“If you can’t even see me beyond a mistake you made,” Jason says, voice hoarse, “there was no way you wouldn’t have seen her as that too. And I love her too much for that.”
this might make no sense now but it will later lmfao
PROTECTOR OF THE INHERITED CROWN
pairing: knight!jason todd/princess!reader
synopsis: whereas, a knight is assigned to guard the princess. However, things don’t go as planned when you find yourself falling for the knight, aware it’s a forbidden relationship that’s not allowed, you both still find solace to be with each other, even if you’re in an arranged marriage. Though, will this forbidden relationship end in flames with tears that tries to extinguish the fire, or will this relationship wreak havoc while you stand with each other in the end.
cw: reader is an arranged marriage, suicidal thought mentioned once, no smut just fluff, SLOWBURN, a tad-bit of angst, hurt/comfort, your dad is a shitty person, and I wish fictional men (jason todd) are real. yearning reader lwk and yearning jason lwk. jason is probably ooc, but it’s like… au… so he’s going to act different anyway…
wc: 16k part 2 coming soon!
Your eyes stayed fixed on the figure reflected in the gold-framed vanity mirror.
An opulent piece carved with sunbursts and curling vines, polished so thoroughly, not a sign of usage despite its purpose. You were still, holding your spine straight, shoulders set, your expression serene and deliberate.
Not a single flicker of discomfort crossed your face despite the coordinated flurry of hands working over your body, yet treating you as a precious jewel that shouldn’t be allowed to rust away among the other jewels, shining brilliantly to grasp others’ attention.
Your chambermaid braced a steady palm against your back as she pulled at the silk cords of your corset, drawing them tighter until your ribs felt caged in ivory.
Another guided gentle fingers through your hair, combing and coiling each strand into place, pinning it with jeweled slips that caught the morning light.
A third knelt before you with a delicate hand, brushing a soft flush onto your lips with a color you’ve familiarized, then rubbing an ointment of jasmine warmed with rose against your pulse points, a fragrance to linger amongst others.
You were a jewel to be admired, but never claimed.
However, that changed.
ᯓ➤ your mom will make you soup later yeah?
← ʙᴀᴄᴋ. ⋮ ⌞ jason todd ✘ reader + platonic! damian wayne ✘ reader ⌝ .ᐟ .ᐟ
ৎׅ ׄ synopsis ⋮ Damian is too scared to go home like this, so Jason calls you to them. His home that makes good soup, his home with soft hands, his home that Damian is about to steal the heart of. word cnt. 9.6k
aka ›››› "Father...?" "Yeah bud?" Jason replies so casually you want to strangle him.