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onmyyan · 2 years

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Straight Venomous

Ch.7 · word count: 5,782 · A/N: omg so my phone broke sorry for the delay buuuut chapter seven is here!! we getting into now girls gays n theys, cursing canon typical violence tw gore, tw yandere shit, tw Jason's potty mouth feedback is always welcome hope you enjoy EDITED 1/11/2023

It was a rare sight to see all the Wayne men in one place, especially at the dinner table. Alfred couldn't have been happier, he'd been a fury in the kitchen all day. The first to arrive was the pair of Tim and Dick, they greeted to older man with warmth but the sense of seriousness wasn't unseen by the Butler, in fact, he was only more sure something was wrong when shortly after their arrival, Jason climbed in through the kitchen window, a sight that reminded Alfred of his younger days.

The second oldest offered the man a brief greeting before silently leaning on the counter, the furthest away from the rest, it all but confirmed his suspicions. Damian had entered the room with a scowl, said nothing, and sat rather harshly in the seat closest to the door. Before Alfred could begin to question the influx of batchildren in his company the patriarch himself made his way up from the cave, the bottom half of his suit still on. His expression unnerved him the most. It was the look he'd seen on his young master's face a handful of times, and it only meant trouble.

"Boys," he greeted each with a nod, his eyes lingering on Jason a second longer, "As lovely as this surprise is, I can't help but wonder why you called us here Tim."

The dark-haired male met his father's eyes as he spoke, "We've all been dancing around this for weeks now but there's something- rather someone, we need to talk about, I don't know how much longer she'll last where she's at." Each man in the room grew stiff as a board, one woman coming to each of their minds.

"What the Hell are you on about Drake? What woman?" Damian's voice carried over the sudden silence, his tone as disgruntled as ever. Tim watched each of their expressions eagerly, gauging their feelings would be impossible for anyone not trained by Bruce. All of them had tells and Damian's was the way in which he gripped the table, Bruce remained stoic as ever, but his eyes told it all. Jason had actually taken a seat at the table. Dick, despite being told first, is just as on edge as the rest.

"Our sweet little runaway D, (Y/n) seems to find trouble wherever she goes huh?" Tim had anticipated resistance from his truth bomb but Jason leaping across to slam him face-first into the mahogany table was a surprise.

"What the fuck are you doing saying her name like that huh Timmy? How do you know her?" Dick was quick to try and pull the older man off of Tim but only made Jason angrier, his grip tighter.

"I'm saying she's in trouble Jay- and if you cared, really really cared, you'd hear me out." At this Jason released him his face still twisted into a snarl. "Start talkin' right fuckin' now." His breath was ragged, panting like a beast above its prey. Tim rose from his position slowly, his grin twitching at the tension in the room.

Dick hovered behind Jason ready to subdue the panting man, Damian now stood, his knuckles pressing into the surface of the table. "Beastie? What do you know about that criminal?" This pulled Jason's attention to the youngest Wayne, his furious expression made Damian's hand twitch towards the weapon in his holster, instead, he kept his gaze on the older man. "Criminal? No, you got it wrong she ain't done anything worth getting on your radar shithead." The wall of muscle known as Jason Todd couldn't be more unhappy. He'd only come here to speak with Bruce about you, he sure as shit didn't expect Tim to pull whatever this was. "She damn near killed me outside that rat's nest you call an apartment." The youngest responded with a grunt and a roll of his eyes.

"What the fuck were you doing outside our place, you little stalker?" Jason's attention was fully on Damian now, he circled around the table like a shark. Only being stopped by Bruce's large arm. "He was there because I have a file on (Y/n), she's not a criminal, not yet anyway. But I know you're smart enough to know something is going on with her." Jason threw his arm off him, now pacing the room. "You know, just as much as I do if left unchecked she is a danger to herself and others."

Jason fixed his mouth to say something only to shut it, his head shaking in disbelief. "So- so you're telling me you spoke to her? You and this little shitstain over here musta' scared the shit outta her!" Jason rubbed the bridge of his nose his fist embedding itself in the wall nearest to him.

"Master Todd! You may no longer live under this roof but I will not stand for any disrespect of this home." Alfred spoke sternly from his position at the stove, turning to point a spatula in his direction. Jason apologized under his breath, his heart pounding in his chest. He sat at the nearest chair with a huff before continuing.

"She just got scared is all she hasn't hurt anyone. God, here I was thinking it was me who scared her off but of course, it was you B- I finally find something for myself, someone that makes it worth breathing and of course, you're the one who fucks it up."

Bruce stared down at his son, wanting nothing more than to hug away all that troubled him. Instead, he kneeled down, and his hand hesitated to touch him, knowing how rocky their relationship was, it fell limp at his side as he locked eyes with Jason.

"I know you have no reason to believe me, but I didn't know she was important to you Jason. I'm truly sorry to have done anything to make her run, it's the last thing I wanted." Jason's watery gaze flicked from his father to his successor, Tim had set a laptop in front of him, patiently waiting for their attention.

"You said she's in danger?" All eyes flicked to Tim as he finally opened the laptop. He flipped the screen around to show some footage of what appeared to be Arkham, specifically an inmate kicking another into a wall with the force of a semi barreling down the highway.

"Holy Hell, that's some kick she has there," Dick spoke first, his fingers nervously playing with the hem of his shirt, his eyes eagerly drinking in the grainy footage of his darling. Every time he saw her he fell a little deeper in his growing fixation. Jason said nothing his eyes furrowed as he watched the clip again and again. Damian scoffed at the sight, his pulse quickening at the thought of facing you again, really fighting this time, and Bruce wouldn't be there to interrupt. He'd make sure of it. The second he got the chance he was going to bring you into his training room and break you in all the best ways. He'd put you back together, of course, he always took care of his toys.

Bruce walked over to Tim's side, his hand firmly patting his shoulder. "I assume you have a plan." The younger man grinned from ear to ear, this little meeting of his going exactly as he'd intended. With Bruce officially on board he quickly opened a folder on his desk labeled with a simple heart. "If we want to keep her out of the wrong hands, keep her safe, She has to disappear." His fingers were like lightning on the keyboard as he pulled up a standard Arkham guard ID card, Warren Kint was the name on it, and Dick's face stared back at them from the screen.

"Why does Grayson get to retrieve her?" Damian asked, clearly displeased with not being chosen, he'd quickly figured out his predecessor's plot. Tim sighed through his nose before responding "Because Jason's legally dead, everyone knows your face, and Bruce Wayne can't exactly apply for a job there without someone noticing. Dick's been out of Gotham for years now, he's less likely to be recognized."

"That and I don't like that look in your eye when you talk about her."

"Who put you in charge scum?" Damian stood quickly taking the jab far too personally. Bruce was quick to pacify his most volatile Robin "Relax, Tim is taking point on this. Respect it, son."

Tim shot the taller male a smirk from behind Bruce before continuing. "I've got everything rigged for your big escape, this dose is strong enough to knock out Killer Crock so it should get the job done." He tossed the vile backward knowing Dick was hanging off his every word. "After she's out all you gotta do is cause a big enough distraction to slip away unseen got it?"

"What then hm? You gonna take her back to our place right?" Jason asked suddenly making his way over, his impeding form hovering over the still-sitting Tim.

"If you want the penguin to know where she's at in two seconds sure." Tim chose his words carefully, knowing Jason's urge to keep you safe made him a walking nuke.

"Think about it Jay- she's with us, all of us, nobody would be able to touch her. She'd be somewhere 1000% safe, away from all the slimy bastards in this city. You'd never lose her again." It was silent for a bit before he responded, "Okay. Yeah, that checks out, why the hell are you so interested in helping her?"

"Jason we're heroes, all we do is help people." Tim's smile was as real as they came, but something in his eyes unsettled Jason told him he wasn't being 100% in his response.

He shook his head, scoffing out a laugh, "Right- sure. What about the rest of you hm? You all just extra concerned about this one citizen?" Bruce sighed through his nose. "I'd simply feel more comfortable if she was close, the power she has could be lethal in the wrong hands." Damian nodded firmly, knowing his real reasons wouldn't go over too well with his unstable sibling. "It's my fault- all of this." Dick said, a hand over his mouth as he finally pulled his eyes away from the screen to meet Jason's, "I was late to a mission, god just five minutes late and," a shuddered breath left him as he held Jason's hard stare. "I'm the reason all this is happening to her. I gotta make it right J- I gotta." Jason exhaled through his nose as he stood, once more pacing the dining room. "Okay, so where's she gonna go? Do you think she'll just accept us uprooting her life? No fucking way she goes for that."

"I may have a solution," Bruce spoke kicking off his place on the wall. I'd anticipated her joining m- us here for quite some time." He began walking towards the elevator that lead to the cave. Damian's eyes widened, he'd finally get to see what his father had been keeping so secret in that blocked-off section of the cave, without a word he was shadowing his father, the other three soon fell in step, the walk bubbling with tensions.

They entered the cave, the air thick with possibilities. Bruce walked over to a door with a hand scanner, after a second it flashed green and with a hiss the thick steel door opened, sliding inward. Sitting like a beast in slumber was a clear plexiglass cage. There was a door with another hand scanner and a small window next to it. Inside sat a plush-looking bed that went from wall to wall, in front of that was a leather-bound lazy-boy, and besides that was a shelf lined with all the classics, off to the side was the only part of the cage not made of plexiglass, Bruce had enough decency to make the bathroom completely private. The bed was a soft pink, the lights in the room set to a dimmer, in his research he'd found a lot about his (Y/n), like how 'the big light' bothered her or how certain fabrics were better than others, every inch of the 'adjustment' room was carefully thought out with her interests in mind. In his heart of hearts, he hoped she'd only spend a few weeks in here, that she'd grow not only used to but fond of her time here.

Each member of the Batfamily took their time to inspect the room, Jason opened a drawer only to pause at the familiar clothes, forgetting where he was for a moment he brought the worn-down sweater to his face and took a deep shaky inhale, her scent had long since been replaced by his own as he'd taken to sleeping in her bed. The smell of her shot a warmth into his core like he'd been brought back from death once again.

Dick had quickly sat on the bed, taking extra time to not disturb the carefully placed pillows, he couldn't explain it but the image of her curled in the sheets had his pulse racing, he could see it now, wrapping around each other, telling her stories of the countless adventures he'd been on, getting to apologize for not saving her the first time, all the fun ways he'd make it up to her, he'd walk on his knees for the rest of his life if it brings a smile to that face- god he'd finally get to see her in person, no more screens. Tim walked around the interior, eagerly checking the corners of the room for any weak spots, he made a vow not to let himself relax until you were safe. Once you were, he was all but certain the others would push you too hard too fast, you'd hate them, and he'd be there as your one true confidante, the one person you could trust. Eventually, the isolation combined with his family's penchant for intensity would drive you where you'd belonged the whole time, securely in his arms.

Damian watched from the outside as his siblings wandered around the room with childish excitement. Unlike the others, he was excited about your arrival for a completely different reason, sure he didn't want you hurt or to fall down the wrong path, but that's just because he wants a true fight. Of course, he wasn't hit with whatever spell you'd cast on his family, he could scoff at the notion, and definitely didn't spend the last few weeks repeatedly drawing your face, both as the beast and the beauty. He certainly wasn't counting down the seconds until he could look you in the eye again.

Bruce overlooked it all from the doorway, he'd realized a few fundamental truths all at once.

1. He passed his more intense traits along to them, and any hope of this not ending in bloodshed meant sharing

2. He wasn't exactly excited to share but knew it bring them closer than ever before

3. He wanted your last name changed to Wayne as soon as he could, it just sounded so pretty in his mind.

Elsewhere

Arkham Asylum really only had two moods. Batshit insane and eerily silent, the second day into your stay you’d been manhandled into the common area by this prick named Dave. He made the typical sexist comment as he hauled you around. Venom took over last minute to kick his ankle in, his body crumpled with a yelp as he slammed against the dirty tile. Before he could process the moment you’d moved forward to place yourself in the iron cage they called the common room. The chittering people around you silenced briefly at your appearance before resuming their chatter.

Your eyes roamed the bustling room, wincing slightly at all the noise. Before you could pick a corner to haunt your allotted 30 minutes of ‘leisure’, the jumpy redhead from your first night slid beside you with a lip-splitting grin. Literally.

It had been days since you’d eaten enough, and a really big part of you was getting scared at the whole deal. See in your early days with V, he was still eating your organs from the inside out, he hadn’t said much besides the occasional word, a scary as shit thing to hear when you’re three bowls deep and alone.

‘Hungry’ was the first thing he’d said, and when you did in fact eat, trying desperately to ignore the deep voice in your head, he said ‘More’.

Thankfully it was one of those nights neither of your roommates was home because if they were, they’d get front-row tickets to the show of you on all fours, viciously ripping into any and everything in sight. The fridge door was now hanging on by one hinge, the other flew off with the force you opened it with. Day-old leftovers and the last of Jason’s famous chili soon joined the cornucopia of food now resting in your stomach, and in the back of your mind, you knew something was wrong because it Just. Wasn’t. Enough.

In a moment all of it had come right back up, mostly landing in the kitchen garbage. A heat like nothing you’d ever felt before flushed over your body, and your head began to pound in time with the voice.

“More. More. Not enough.” It felt like you’d been put in a blender and flash-frozen all at once. Clumsily you stumbled back into your room just barely making it to the bed before collapsing on top. Moments after, the blankets on your bare skin felt like hot glass, pushing you to crawl away from the feeling, now face down on the floor the voice had gone silent. Your body curled in on itself, and the heat coming off your flesh made condensation appear on the floor where you laid. Your eyes searched the room in a haze, the mirror hanging on the back of the door gave you a chill once you caught sight of your sickly form.

Dark veins had crawled to the surface of your skin, and a sheen of perspiration coated your twitching form. Just before you blacked out the darkness all converged into a horrifying mass, completely masking your face in its own. The whites of the eyes were the last thing you noticed before darkness took over.

You’d woken up god knows how long later arm deep in the chest of some unrecognizable heap, the remains of his tacky shirt let you in on his identity, one of the neighborhood's scummier dealers laid motionless, just outside your apartment. It looked like a bear had attacked him. One look at your gore-covered hands had you shoving them as deep in your pockets as you could, quickly backing away from the carcass, eyes blown wide with every emotion you had rushing at you all at once.

“What..fuck what did I do.”

‘I did what you couldn’t human. I fed us.’

”Fucking shit! Okay okay, breathe (Y/n). Just breathe.” A shaking breath left you as you wiped at your mouth, desperate to wake from this weird ass nightmare.

”Okay so- you got some bad pot, happens to the best of us. Someone probably laced it and this is just the worst trip ever.” A sigh of relief left you as logic calmed your raging mind. Thankfully it was late so people weren’t too keen to look down random alleyways, never before had you been so grateful to live in Gotham. It took nothing at all to scrape the remaining mush into a nearby sewer drain. You caught your reflection in a puddle near the crime scene, only to be met with a more fully realized monster from last night.

Your back hit the wall with a thud. Frozen in fear, you tried to speak to the hallucination.

“This- holy shit- what are you?” The question was more for yourself yet it was still answered.

‘Venom. And I am not a monster. Stupid girl.’ It sounded annoyed but more concerning, it had responded to a comment you’d made in your mind.

‘Of course, I did. I am in you, after all, I can see everything.’

“Uh- okay! Okay, not cool, not cool at all.” You shoved yourself off the wall and back towards the door to your apartment. The evidence of your midday snack was washed down the drain with a quickness, the heat from the shower made you nauseous so you quickly flicked it towards ice cold, at least it should have been, but the bitter cold felt good on your boiling flesh

It took a long somewhat awkward conversation but eventually, the two of you came to a fast conclusion. He wouldn’t take over as long as you kept him fed.

A feat that had been put on hold since your impromptu Arkham stay. You were still good. At least your definition of good. No one was in immediate danger of consumption. You hoped so at least.

”You sure do space out a lot of sugar.”

”Only when I have to think.” this earned a loud cackle from the redhead, his smile rather contagious. The loud laughter had managed to resplit his lip, the bright red blood beaded at the lip, without meaning to you'd reached out a soft (s/c) hand, and swiped it away with your thumb, your lips encased around it, paying no attention to how flushed your conversation partner had become at the action.

”How’s your face? I didn’t mean for that to happen.” He scoffed, his blush ever visible as he passed a finger over his bruised lip, “This is nothin’! A little knuckle sandwich for the price of getting to talk to you? Fair deal.” His smirk was dangerous, the kind that would have had pre-venom-you running for the hills. The bright red blood in his cut looked oddly fitting with his wild expression. The sweet tang of him was still thick in your mouth, his flirtation didn't help in the slightest, if anything it made your stomach grumble in a way that had you taking a half step back. “Right. Well glad we’re good.” Internally hoping your poor socialization skills would come in handy, you were disappointed when he closed the distance between you, eagerly dragging you to a nearby table.

His smile was more of a sneer, all but permanently accompanied by that devious expression. Wide green eyes drank you in eagerly. “So how’s a pretty lady like yourself end up in the loony bin with the rest of Gotham's finest?” He spoke so animatedly, gesturing to the rest of the room with a playful twirl of his fingers. “Me? I murdered the ol’ mom. You know how they can be just,” his fist slammed into the table, “Suuuch a pain.” He leaned forwards to lessen the space even more.

“She’s the only one under my belt but ooh do I got a helluva show planned!” He was pushing for a reaction, desperate to see who you were on the inside. You leaned on your elbows taking a second to process his tale. “You like to talk about yourself huh gingy.” His smile twitched a bit before he broke out into a cackle. “Well of course I do! Stars are always full of themselves Darlin’. Rule of the trade no?”

Had you not been so enthralled by your new friend and potential meal, you'd of noticed the stare of utter hatred the fresh-faced guard was shooting him. He held his electric baton with a white-knuckled grip, mentally debating ditching Tim's plan and just breaking it over the little shit's head, tossing you over his shoulder, and finally just bringing you home, it was then and only then he'd actually be able to breathe, he'd been updated on all your escapades since that night in Bludhaven, and just about fell over. Tim had to talk him down for an hour just so Dick would hear his plan out.

Dick knew he’d need a big distraction to get you out of there the right way. The cadaver with your uniform on was taking the role of your body while he’d be sneaking out the real one safe and sound. That fire in his belly burned hot at the memory. He knew all at once who’d be assisting in your little escape plan. Dick had the heart of a hero and he knew killing someone, even for you, would be frowned upon, so he did the next best thing. He dragged that Valeska prick out of his cell by his ankles and proceeded to beat him black and blue, he was still breathing, and Dick would never intentionally kill anyone. Sure he was choking those breaths through puddles of blood but hey, still breathing. He held the younger man up by his bloodied shirt, one hand dragged the limp body behind him while the other unlocked the door to cell block-A, Tim had scheduled a failure in the CCTV system, which had him moving at a leisurely pace. Dick whistled a nameless tune as he pushed the nearly unconscious man before him, he shoved so hard Jerome flipped over the railing and landed in the center of the room, three floors down. Dick stood at the top silently, “Sure hope you didn’t die from that Valeska. The next part doesn’t really work if you did.” The gurgled response from Jerome was enough for Dick to move forward with the plan. With the push of a button, every cell in the room slammed open with a crash. Like sharks in the ocean, they swarmed Jerome’s now still body, no sooner did they start screaming did the riot alarms go off.

Dick counted to ten in his mind, the chaos had spilled into the rest of Arkham, and a fire in (Y/n)‘s room had consumed all in its path, covering Dick’s escape route perfectly. He drove with you in the front, tucked safely into a blanket he’d thought to bring, drugged out of your little mind. Dick took an extra five minutes to just admire you in the flesh. He’d been going stir crazy not having access to you, ever since he’d learned of your existence he’d needed to see you safe and sound, and now, finally, he could breathe. You were alright. You were with him. Nothing could get to you again, he wouldn’t let it. His smile never left his face, he knew you were asleep but hoped you'd subconsciously hear him anyway. "I'm sorry our first official meeting had to be done with you dreaming sweetie, don't worry I have our real meeting all planned out, I got stuck with the second shift watching ya' but I swear I'll be worth the wait." He spent the rest of the car ride like that, whispering sweet nothings to your unconscious body.

The ‘room’ was pleasantly cold. Much colder than the murky heat that haunted the walls of Arkham, if you could call it a room. The plush bedding was cool to the touch, it was the first thing you noticed, how good it felt under your fingertips. It probably had to do with how stiff and scratchy the poor excuse of a blanket folded crisply in your cell. The bloodstained jumpsuit you’d grown used to had been replaced by a soft, dark grey pajama set. It felt new but smelled faintly of cologne as if a man had worn it moments before it found its way onto your sleeping body.

The second thing you noticed was the small ringing in the back of your head, it was low but consistent, a constant thrum carried throughout your skull, never going away, it was so annoying in fact it drew you from your dreamless slumber. Venom was unsettlingly quiet. The only sound was the buzz.

Once you realized something was wrong, you sprung up from your comfortable position, now sitting upright, your eyes adjusted to the warm light the salt lamp provided, taking in the alarming state of your surround. The room looked to be at least 10ft, big enough for the large bed you awoke on, and a fluffy-looking lazy boy parked in the corner, a few books stacked neatly on the shelves lining the glass container.

“What the hell.” A breathless laugh left you as you spun in a slow circle, hoping the explanation would reveal itself. “V are you seeing this?” You asked aloud, uncaring if whoever put you here found it odd. You were met with silence. The fear really started to roll in over you at the lack of response, “Come on V where are ya, big guy.” Sweat had begun to form on your brow, it only increased with the crackling of a speaker you hadn’t noticed before.

“Hi, sweetheart.” Jason’s voice came from a small box in the upper corner of the room. The once calming baritone now only further filled the sinking pit in your gut. “Jason? Is that you? What the fuck is this-Jason?” Your breath begins to pick up, the unease fully fogging your mind.

The panic began to hurdle at you in waves, not helped by the door a few feet from your new cell opening with a woosh. In no time Jason had made it to the other side of the plexiglass, his sweet gaze paired with the gentle hand pressing against the hard surface felt out of place with the current situation.

“Shh- breathe. Just breathe for me- it’s okay honey- it’s okay look I’m here. I’m right here.” You brought a shaking hand to your mouth, mind swirling with all the information his appearance had given you.

“I know you’re scared- I told the bastards you wouldn’t like waking up like that, all alone. I’m sorry about that. But I’m here now.”

”Why am I in a fucking cage, Jay? I went to bed in a cell last night. How the fuck am I here? Why am I here? Is it that shit with Penguin? God, I swear I don’t know anything please.” Your voice began to waive as you tried to handle everything. Why hasn’t Venom answered you? Why was that fucking buzzing still happening? Why were you in a fucking box?!

”I need you to hear me right now- really hear me.” His hand curled into a fist as he spoke, gently knocking on the glass to emphasize his words.

“You’re safe. Okay? You’re not in trouble or in jail or ever going to deal with that short bird-faced fuck ever again you here?” His voice grew in volume as he spoke, his hand closing into a tight fist on the glass. There was a beat of silence as you forced yourself to breathe properly.

”You didn’t need to run honey. I could’ve protected you from all of this.”

”You don’t understand Jason- what happened to me.”

”You bonded with an illegal alien parasite from space. Who cares?.”

”How the hell do you know that?”

”Bruce has a file on you, he knows everything. Even how to make it quiet up there.” his finger tapped twice against his temple

Teary-eyed, your head snapped up to look at the offender. “Who the hell- I don't know a Bruce- look whatever it is make it stop. Please I need V.”

”What are you talking about darlin’?"

“Do not play with me right now.” Your fist pounded against the wall before you, despite Venom being silent the doors of your cage rattled against the force you threw, so you knew he was still in there.

"I get why you're upset sweetheart- I really do but you gotta eat something okay?" His tone was light and sweet as he placed the hot meal in the small box, you quickly rushed him, hoping to grab him through the tiny door. "S'no good hun, only one door at a time." He had that god damned knee-weakening smile on his face while he spoke. You took the tray with a glare.

"Just cuz I'm eating doesn't mean I'm down for whatever Hannibal Lecter bullshit this is." He snorted through his nose, eyes never leaving you. "I didn't expect you to, look I know you have questions but we thought it is best to take it slow if nothing else I ask you to understand you're safe."

You scoffed under your breath, appetite leaving as the sting of his betrayal pulsed in your mind, of course, he'd turn on you, he was a hero. It was inevitable.

"So what you gonna lure me into a false sense of security then send me to some lab to be bleed me dry right?" His eyes widened, looking almost offended at the notion.

"You ain't hearing me, hun." He kneeled down to meet your gaze, you hadn't even realized you'd fallen to the floor. "You ain't going to some lab, or back to Arkham or anywhere I can't keep you safe." Exhausted with the entire ordeal your energy to fight all but sizzled away. "You don't need to do that Jay- I can take care of myself." Your voice shows the exhaustion you felt. He stared down at you with pity, so so close to walking in just to hold you, feel you with him. Instead, he sighed, "Caring about someone the way that I care about you, means you’re capable of anything. That’s the kinda love people don’t talk about. It’s real, it’s vicious, and it ain’t going anywhere." "You love me, Jay?" You sounded so soft and small when you asked as if you were genuinely surprised. His smile was the same one you'd grown used to seeing back in the apartment, warm and sweet like honey.

"You've had me in the palm of your hand since the day you moved in."

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ao3feed-brucewayne · 2 months

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It's a Reflex

by unamused_bruise To be fair, Danny wanted it to be known that he just wanted some time to indulge in his Space and Protection obsession. How could he have known that while on a class field trip to Gotham he’d gain a father, grandpa, and a clown van full of siblings via accidental forced adoption? Danny just wanted to talk with the people in the Aerospace Division at Wayne Enterprises, his friends are never going to let him live this down. “Oh dear, oh Gone With the Wind, we’ve lost Danny.” Lancer mutters under his breath as he nervously glances around his class. He can only hope that they are able to find Danny before Jazz finds out. “Class, as you can see Danny is not with the group anymore. Does everyone remember the Flyaway Fenton Protocol? Good.” It’s at this point the Guide realizes whats going and tried to take point. “There’s a kid missing?! This is terrible! Hopefully he’s still in the building, Gotham is dangerous for the unprepared, I’ll go ahead and ask the front desk to try and have security search the building.” Lancer stares blankly at the Guides back as he beelines out of the hotel and back to WE. “I fear more for Gotham, the people here are the ones unprepared for a lone Fenton.” Words: 4150, Chapters: 1/6, Language: English Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types, Danny Phantom Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: Gen Characters: Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Duke Thomas, Danny Fenton Relationships: Batfamily Members & Batfamily Members (DCU), Batfamily Members (DCU) & Danny Fenton, Danny Fenton & Duke Thomas Additional Tags: Based on a Tumblr Post, I took canon out back and shot it, Teen and up for Duke's potty mouth, Not Jason's though, He doesn't want to give a bad impression to the new kid, He also doesn't want another little sibling to hate him, Duke doesn't care though, Unless he's in public, Tim is truly the middle child, Poor Tim Drake, He knows that Bruce didn't adopt Danny, Because Tim still highkey stalks the Batfam, Doesn't mean he'll do anything about it though, 'hey free brother' -Tim probably, They think they get a 'normal' sibling, but they don't, take that however you will, Accidental Sibling Acquisition, The Batfam may be the best detectives, But they're in an echo chamber of bad socializing, Once they get a new member it's contagious, So they don't use normal social cues on each other, Danny 'being punt through a building is a hello' Fenton also can't socialize, Duke will throw hands with Dick for that fav big bro trophy, Good Older Sibling Dick Grayson, Dick Grayson Gets a Hug, Jason Todd Tries to Be a Good Older Sibling, Jason Todd Deserves Better, Good Sibling Duke Thomas, Duke Thomas Deserves the World, Tim Drake Being a Little Shit, Coffee Lover Tim Drake, Confused Danny Fenton, Danny Fenton-centric, Tired Parent Bruce Wayne, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Communicating, no beta we die like robins, and danny via https://ift.tt/Iw6UjkT

#IFTTT #bruce wayne #batman #the dark knight #the caped crusader #gotham #dcu #dc #ao3 #ao3feed

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c-m-li-s-fanfic-corner · 9 months

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(and all the kids cried out) please stop you’re scaring me

(AO3 LINK)

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: Batman - All Media Types

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Relationships: Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson, Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Jason Todd, Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne

Characters: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne, Bruce Wayne, Barbara Gordon

Additional Tags: Dick Grayson is a Talon, Court of Owls, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Barbara Gordon is Oracle, Assassination Attempt(s), Brainwashing, Temporary Amnesia, Flashbacks, Aftermath of Torture, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Dick Grayson, BAMF Jason Todd, BAMF Tim Drake, BAMF Damian Wayne, Good Sibling Jason Todd, Good Sibling Dick Grayson, rated teen for violence and jason's potty mouth, i make one of the brothers cry but you'll have to read to find out which one, Romani Dick Grayson, Police Officer Dick Grayson, Nightmares, BAMF Barbara Gordon

Summary:

The Court of Owls has had their Gray Son in their clutches for almost a year and everything was going according to their plans.

But then they sent their Talon after the Batman and his associates and that -

Well -

The Gray Son had been trained by the best, after all.

See below for my casting choices:

Title inspired by Control by Halsey.

#bat fam #dick grayson #jason todd #court of owls #fanfic #tim drake #damian wayne #bruce wayne #barbara gordon #talon!dick

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therealjambery · 10 months

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Writing practice, minimal editing, etc. I don't know where this came from. I know nothing about Batman comics. I love Jason Todd specifically because of some crossover Marvel fics (thanks so much for that, he now lives in my head rent free). I don't know where this is going, either. Enjoy!

Prompts from this post.

Prompt: "Batman won't like this" Fandom: Batman/MCU mash up Pairing: none Rating: Mature for Jason's potty mouth Words: 818

"Batman won't like this," Dick said.

Jason hefted the unconscious guy over his shoulder in a fireman's carry, staggering a little under his weight. Fuck, this guy weighed a ton. Did he have rocks in his pockets or what? "Batman doesn't like anything," he said, shifting the guy a little to the left. He definitely had knives in his belt, along with the maybe-rocks in his pockets. "What he doesn't know won't hurt him," he added, eyeing Dick meaningfully.

"Yeah, okay," Dick said. "But you know he's going to find out somehow."

"Not if little birdies can keep their goddamn mouths shut," Jason said. He turned his back on Dick and started jogging out of the warehouse. "Better get going," he called over his shoulder. "I rigged this whole place to blow in," he mimed checking his watch, "thirty seconds, give or take."

"Dammit, Jason!"

But Dick heeded his warning, and was gone by the time Jason reached the door and turned to look. He shouldered the door open, silently apologizing to the heaviest assassin in the world as his head knocked into the door frame. Seriously, so many rocks.

He managed to make it across the street to where his car was parked before the building went up in flames. He dumped the guy in the backseat and hopped into the driver's seat, peeling out before the secondary explosions started.

Five minutes later, the guy was awake and holding a knife to his throat in one swift move. Their eyes met in the rear view mirror. Above the mask, his eyes were cold, blue like deep sea ice.

"Yeah, no," Jason said, stomping on the brakes. He turned and punched the guy in the head, using his forward momentum against him. The guy's eyes widened before rolling back in his head as he slumped into the backseat again.

They narrowly escaped getting rear ended by a garbage truck. It swerved around them, horn blaring, and Jason stuck his middle finger out the window as he accelerated again. Clearly he didn't have time to take the long way home.

Home wasn't his real destination anyway, What, like he was going to bring Mr. Stab-First-Ask-Questions-Later to his apartment? Hell no, the dingy squat he kept for sketchy business meetings and late night strategy sessions would do just fine. There was a cot in the corner and even a bathroom with a working shower. Practically luxurious.

He parked in the back, dragging the guy out of the backseat and back over his shoulders. The elevator was out, of course - he wasn't sure it had ever worked, to be honest - so he was sweating and cursing by the time he hit the fifth floor.

The studio was small and gray, with one high narrow window running the length of the wall with the tiny kitchenette. It was just a sink and a mini fridge with beer. Tucked away in the cabinet were basic medical supplies and emergency whiskey. Dumping the guy on the floor, he stretched out his back and got himself a glass of water. He drank it leaning against the desk. Besides the cot and three chairs, it was the only other piece of furniture in the room.

"Okay." He set down the empty glass and squatted next to his mystery guest. "Let's see what you've got."

What he had was nothing. Nothing useful, anyway. Nothing in his pockets, not even rocks. Couple of guns, a truly beautiful collection of knives, various other fun assassin tools. But no ID, nothing that could identify him at all. Jason unclipped the mask and studied the guy's face. Cheekbones to die for, two-day old stubble, and - blue eyes. Oh shit.

Casually, Jason stood and stepped back, out of reach. "Hi," he said. He was kind of wishing he'd thought to take all the knives, given the scowl on the guy's face.

Wincing, the guy sat up and touched his temple, where Jason had punched him. He stood, slowly, arms held loose at his sides. He was wearing all black - boots, pants, and some kind of strappy leather nightmare around his torso over a long-sleeved black shirt. Black leather gloves, even. His hair was long, and he shook it out of his face as he glared at Jason.

"Where the hell are we?"

Jason could tell the guy was casing the place out of his peripheral vision, but was wisely keeping his attention mostly on Jason. Well, he was the most dangerous bastard in the room.

Then he took off his gloves, casually, and Jason saw the shining metal of his left hand.

Make that second dangerous. "Oh hell," Jason said. "You're the Winter Soldier."

The Winter Soldier crossed his arms. "Not any more," he said darkly. Then, in an accusing tone, he said, "You're Red Hood."

"Yeah, no shit, congrats." Jason gave him a lazy two fingered salute. "You figured it out."

#my fic #mcu #batman #jason todd

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haleelah · 1 year

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So this morning I am entertaining the thoughts of ratatouille x princess and the frog mashup jaydick au

One where for some unfathomable reason Dick would choose to become a chef involuntary, and he is struggling, that is until he encounters Jason the potty mouthed yet kind hearted rat with a great passion for cooking.

They help each other. Dick gets to learn how to be an actual chef from someone who is willing to teach him kindly, while Jason finally gets to practice this craft. To finally get the chance to cook as he needs.

I don't know. Maybe Jason is turned by some witch/wizard for some reason, the transformation also results with him losing memories of his human self. Jason was a renowned genius in the his field of work, despite his young age, and his sudden disappearance made quite the uproar. Dick of course can not manage to link chef Jason Todd to Rat Jason ( it's already to much that a rat sits hidden in his hat whispering the secrets of cooking gods to him)

They grow closer to each other over the time (and their hearts do so ♡). The story climax at Jason being at the risk of death, and he loses consciousness. Dick in his grief bestow a kiss upon his mouth, then violent swirls of light and sparks take place only for Dick now to be holding none other than Chef Jason Peter Todd breathing softly in his arms.

#jaydick #i am dying of laughter writing this #anyways #the thing about Jason is while is is stern and has no bullshit policy in the kitchen #he is utterly kind to those who really want to learn #unlike the many asshole chefs he was taught by #following the example of one master he values greatly in his heart #and that's chef pennyworth #plus there's something about Dick that makes him want to be utterly soft with him #maybe it's his beautiful oh so beautiful face and thise lovely hands with those deftly fingers #not to mention his soft black mane that he gets to settle in everyday #the glow in his beautiful brown skin illuminated softly by the soft lamp light when jason is teaching him of some techniques late at night #how hard he works and how eager he is to please jason #his laughs and smiles #jason is younger that dick here

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sharpestasp · 10 months

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Digging Back In (304 words) Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: DCU (Batfam) Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Warnings: Jason's potty mouth, mention of child harm Characters: Jason Todd Additional Tags: Character Study of Others Summary:

Jason has to know, to connect

#dcu #dc comics #batfam #jason todd #filly formed

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ao3feed-birdflash · 1 year

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Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/xrUJ0HC

by Taxi_Cab_To_Slowtown

While Jason is visiting Titans tower, someone crashes through the wall in a Red Helmet claiming to be him from the future. Jason is skeptical until the man removes his mask.

Words: 3746, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 27 of DCU One-shots

Fandoms: DCU, DCU (Comics), Teen Titans - All Media Types, Batman - All Media Types, Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M, Multi

Characters: Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Roy Harper, Wally West, Koriand'r (DCU), Garth (DCU), Garfield Logan, Minor Characters

Relationships: Roy Harper/Koriand'r/Jason Todd, Roy Harper/Jason Todd, Koriand'r/Jason Todd, Dick Grayson/Wally West, Dick Grayson/Koriand'r

Additional Tags: Time Travel, Past Dick Grayson/Koriand'r, As in; in the past (which is sort of the present) they are together, Dick and Kori do not remain together, Jason Todd is Robin, Jason Todd is the Red Hood, Two Jason Todds, Time Traveling Jason Todd, Jason Todd's Potty Mouth, Pre-Jason Todd's Death, Jason Todd-centric, Bisexual Jason Todd, Pansexual Dick Grayson, Gay Wally West, Lazarus Pit (DCU), It's called the glowing green Jacuzzi, Jason Todd Being a Little Shit, no beta we die like jason todd

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/xrUJ0HC

#dick grayson #robin #nightwing #wally west #kid flash #flash #birdflash #dickwally

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eulphy · 5 years

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Writers/Fans/Authors: Jason is the potty mouth of the Bats. He always says fuck and shit in every sentence. He's crass cuz he comes from the street. He smokes and drinks. Uwu.

Me, trying to remember canon panels from before retcons of writers-we-don't-speak-about that prove these facts:

#jason todd #red hood #dc comics #robin #robin ii #Batman #Dick is the potty mouth #I'm pissed at parts of Titans and also Jason Todd fanfics #Ugh

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smittywing · 7 months

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WIP Wednesday - Marriage 101

This incredibly flimsy premise was brought to you by a post on this site that I can no longer find. It basically said you get more FAFSA money if you're married, so I picked the two characters least likely to ever use FAFSA and married them. I have no regrets.

The aroma of pizza rolls and popcorn notwithstanding, for a minute Tim had forgotten whose safehouse he was actually in.

Damian’s safehouses tended to have the video games. Tim’s were full of prototype gadgets, and Dick’s usually had fuzzy blankets and squishy pillows. Jason’s had the food.

Jason’s apparently also had a FAFSA application.

“Hey,” he said, picking it up. “Are you going back to school?”

Three things happened at once. (1) Jason vaulted off the sofa, overturning a bowl of popcorn onto Dick’s lap, (2) Damian grabbed Jason’s abandoned controller, and murdered Dick’s player, and (3) Dick grabbed Damian and mashed his face into the cushions.

“What’s this?” Dick asked as Tim turned away from Jason’s flailing hands to read the notes Jason had made in the margins. “Is my Little Wing going to be a college man?”

“No, fuckit, Timmers - no.” Jason was bigger and had a longer reach but Tim was extremely adept at dodging and weaving. He’d had a lot of practice. “Just a class or two. Dammit, Tim!”

It wasn’t a class or two. It was a full semester under the name Jason Peterson.

“Let me see,” Dick said, blocking Jason’s swipe and taking the papers from Tim. “You need money?” he asked, scanning the pages.

Jason made a sound somewhere between a groan and a growl. “Tuition’s fucking expensive, okay?” he said. “Now fuck off and give me that. That’s personal information.”

“Personal information for someone who isn’t you,” Dick commented, stepping just out of reach.

“Father would gladly pay for your tuition,” Damian piped up unwelcomely from the couch. “Why do you waste your time with tedious paperwork?”

“I am *not* taking money from Bruce.” Jason’s voice resonated with certainty.

“Didn’t you have like, some...passive income?” Tim asked, not sure if bringing up Jason’s time as a drug lord was a faux pas these days. Jason had a hair trigger temper and Tim really didn’t feel like being on the pointy side of his knife. Again.

“If you’re talking about the blood money, I donated it to some of the rehab places,” Jason mumbled. “Clearly I hadn’t come up with this brilliant plan at the time.”

“Why not take Father’s money?” Damian asked. “He enjoys spending it on philanthropic pursuits and you are clearly destitute.”

“No more pizza rolls for you,” Jason said, picking Damian up by his collar as he was peeking over Dick’s arm at Jason Peterson’s income. Damian kicked but Jason’s forearm was steady, as he levered Damian away from the paperwork. Tim quietly watched the tensed muscles running from the edge of Jason’s sleeve to his wrist.

“We’re going to have a little talk later about independence,” Dick told Damian.

“Independence is a worthy outcome,” Damian argued. “But many scholars and artists subsist under the patronage of a sponsor without shame.”

“I mean, he’s not wrong,” Dick conceded, glancing at Jason. “But look, we’ll talk about it later, okay Dami?” He turned back to Jason. “I think it’s great,” he continued, squeezing Jason’s bicep. Tim waited for violence, but the fight seemed to leak out of Jason as Dick handed him back the paperwork. “And I understand why you want to do this on your own. But if I can help, in any way, let me know, okay? Contrary to popular belief, you don’t have to do everything on your own.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” Jason muttered, color high on his cheeks. “Get Cosimo de Medici out of here, will you?”

Dick grinned. “It’s past his bedtime anyway.”

Tim lingered after Dick and Damian left. “Sorry I didn’t think before I said something,” he offered. “I didn’t mean for it to turn into such a big deal.”

“Yeah, I know,” Jason said, running a hand through his hair. “It’s fine, whatever.” He opened the fridge and considered the shelves for a minute before pulling out two beers. Tim would have preferred coffee but he knew Jason was offering an olive branch so he took the bottle.

“Are you thinking about Gotham U?” Tim ventured, twisting off the cap and taking a sip of his beer.

“If I can get in,” Jason said, playing with his bottle cap. “If not, then Gotham State. I took the GED just to see if I could pass.”

“Of course you could,” Tim said automatically. “You were always better at school than Dick.”

Jason looked at him oddly. “Yeah but I quit at 15.”

Tim didn’t correct him. Quitting actually did sound better than getting murdered by the Joker.

“What do you want to study?” he asked instead.

It might have been a cliche, but Jason’s face literally lit from within at the question.

“I want to minor in English lit,” he said, which was a weird place to start, but Tim was too fascinated by the change in his demeanor to comment on it. “For a major, criminal justice would be the obvious choice but the background checks for law enforcement would be too comprehensive to make a career of it. I wouldn’t want to be a cop anyway. I was thinking maybe education but I don’t know for sure. It might make more sense to study something I can use in day-to-day life, you know? This is the most solid cover I have but it could use some backstopping if I’m going to use it in the real world, you know?”

“I could, um,” Tim said, transfixed by the animation in Jason’s voice and face. He had *never* seen Jason this happy or excited, *ever* and the truth was that he would do anything, *anything* to keep seeing it. “I could build out some - you’re really, you’re really excited about this, aren’t you?”

That hadn’t been what he’d meant to say at all, but Jason’s rueful grin tugged at his chest.

“Yeah,” he said. “I mean, if I can swing it. It takes more than a few Pell grants to keep me in helmets. Obviously this wouldn’t be a full time thing.”

“Yeah,” Tim found himself saying. “I know. I mean, I’m enrolled in a few classes next semester and I don’t know how I’m going to juggle those and regular patrol and the Titans.”

“You’ll do it,” Jason said immediately. “Isn’t your IQ like a million? It’ll be cakewalk.”

“Yeah,” Tim echoed, conviction solidifying. He and Jason would be starting at Gotham U in the fall, together. “Cakewalk.”

The concept of Jason happily studying English Lit (English Lit? Really? Jason?) at Gotham University started building itself into a happy fantasy by 4am. Tim Googled “how to pay for college” on his phone when he probably should have been trying to catch a few hours of sleep and 36 hours later, he was crawling in Jason’s window.

“Ugh, you too?” Jason greeted him.

“Hey Tim,” Dick said, looking up from his bowl of cereal.

“Hi, yeah,” Tim said, replying to both of them at once. “I uh, I had some ideas.”

Jason picked up the coffee pot and upended it into a mug. The toasty-burnt aroma hit Tim’s nostrils like a big cuddly freight train and reminded him of just how long he’d been awake. “Thanks,” he said.

Jason raised his eyebrows and lifted the mug to his own mouth. Tim felt its loss acutely. “All right,” Jason said with a sigh. “What’s your idea?”

“Ideas,” Tim clarified. “Plural.” He pulled his convertible laptop out of his backpack and rotated it into tablet mode.

“You didn’t,” Jason groaned.

“Of course he did,” Dick said. “PowerPoint was baby bird’s first computer game.”

“Scholarships,” Tim announced, drowning out the negativity.

“On my stellar GED score?” Jason asked sardonically.

“There are scholarships for non-traditional students,” Tim said, bringing up a selection of postings he had found when anticipating this exact argument.

Jason made a face. “Home-schooled?”

“Which you basically were,” Dick pointed out.

“Don’t help,” Jason told him.

“Granted, you’re probably not looking at full-tuition level scholarships,” Tim said, “but a few thousand dollars to pay for your books will help out a lot.”

Jason nodded grudgingly.

“Work-share!” Tim announced, flipping to the next slide.

“You would make a great lunch lady,” Dick suggested.

Jason glared sideways at him. “No.”

“I was thinking the library myself,” Tim offered, because who liked the library better than an English Lit major? Or minor. Or whatever. “Plus you’d have time to do your homework.”

Jason groaned, but it sounded acquiescing. “Okay,” he said. “What else ya got?”

“Income Share Agreements,” Tim went on. “GC has a program or you can apply through a private matching program for someone to front you the money and commit to paying back a percentage of your income once you graduate.”

“No,” Jason said.

“It’s like a loan,” Tim told him. “Just zero interest. And a zero balance. It doesn’t matter how much you make.”

“I’m doing this because I want to do it,” Jason said. “Not to be a nine-to-five, tax-paying drone, or to be stiffing some jerk on his investment. Next?”

“So, you’re probably not going to be a fan of this one,” Tim cautioned. “But you could get a job. And a company with tuition assistance.”

“Oh, really,” Jason drawled, narrowing his eyes and Tim knew Jason was on to him. “And would this job just happen to be at Wayne Enterprises?”

“I mean, I have an in,” Tim offered weakly.

“Or you could just get married,” Dick said.

“What?” Tim asked.

“What?” Jason asked.

“I mean, if pissing off Bruce is a prerequisite,” Dick said, in the same maddeningly casual tone, “you could just get married.” He held up the FAFSA information booklet. “You’d get double the housing money and some other stuff.”

“I’m in,” Jason said immediately.

“Wait,” Tim said, hating that he was going to be the one to throw a wrench in this extraordinarily *amazing* plan of *marrying Jason*. “Wouldn’t getting married to me fuck up his expected family contribution?”

“Um,” Dick said.

“No.” Jason had clearly been all over this paperwork. “When you file as married, you file as independent so your family isn’t expected to contribute. So our combined income would be the four thou Jason Peterson made at Bat-Burger last year and whatever your summer internship at WE paid.”

“Okay, let me see that worksheet,” Tim said, grabbing it out of Dick’s hand. He did some quick math in his head. “Yeah,” he said, the blood rush of a plan coming together hitting him full force. “I’m using the Nest as a permanent address anyway. You could do the same. I’ll work up a lease between us and Drake Industries. I don’t have legal access to my trust until I turn twenty-one, though Bruce has pretty much signed off on whatever, remind me to check and make sure there’s no marriage clause.”

“Um,” Dick said.

“Gotham has a 48-hour waiting period and blood test required for marriage licenses,” Jason said, scrolling rapidly through his phone. “But after that, we can go down to the courthouse and have the Justice of the Peace do the deed.”

“Figures,” Tim said. “Two days gives the press time to jump on this. Let’s apply on a Friday afternoon. Hopefully, whatever intern they have looking will miss it.”

“I didn’t mean you had to marry *each other*,” Dick said.

The room went silent.

“Who else are we gonna marry?” Jason sneered, clear in his opinion of Dick’s idiocy, and then turned back to the matter at hand. “Your marital status is as of the FAFSA submission date,” he said. “So we need to hook up before I submit.”

Tim shrugged. “Deal.”

#jaytim #batbrats #jason todd #tim drake #red hood #jason todd/tim drake #red hood/red robin #fic #red robin #jason todd's potty mouth

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thesquidgame · 5 years

Conversation

A Normal, Happy Conversation With 3/4 of the Batboys

Jason Todd: Will you please tell me what he's saying! Will anyone tell me what he's saying!!!

Damian Wayne: Tupids Oddtay. Tsiay igpay atinlay oddtay mbecileiay.

Jason Todd: What is he saying what the f*** is he saying!!!

Damian Wayne: Asonjay Eterpay Oddtay, ouyay, tupidsay, tupidsay, dioticiay astardbay Oddtay.

Jason Todd: Tim!!! Tim!!! You're smart!!! Tell me what the f*** he's saying you d***-brained Mother-f***cker!!!

Tim Drake: ...

Damian: Miay ustjay peakingsay niay igpay atilay otay Oddtay, tsiay ctually uiteqay ilarioushay fiay ouyay hinktay boutaay tiay.

Tim Drake: Haaay! hatstay aay unnyfay neoay. Nceoay Iay nlyoay alkedtay otay imhay niay igpay atinlay, orfay aay onthmay. Tiay asway ricelesspay!

Jason Todd: What are you saying!!! What the f*** are you saying!!!

I'm sorry if you don't speak pig latin, this is a translation website if you can't speak it- https://lingojam.com/PigLatinTranslator

#pig latin #tim drake #jason todd #damian wayne #batfam #batboys #red hood #red robin #robin #jason todd has a potty mouth

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psychovigilantewrites · 3 years

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Stay Away

Pairing: Reader/Jason Todd

Genre: Smut

TW: AGE GAP!! PSEUDO-INCEST! PLEASE READ SUMMARY, IVE RECEIVED LOTS OF CRITICISMS FOR THIS FIC SOOOO

Summary: THIS IS A REPOST SINCE TUMBLR TOOK IT DOWN DUE TO POSSIBLE REPORTS LOLOL

This fic is about a young Robin!Reader with a much older Jason. Mentions of past sexual abuse. This started out as a drabble lol, I got carried away. Anyway, Hope you enjoy! I love reading comments, so don't be shy!

Edit: Due to this fic being my only controversial one, I’d like to update the warnings by giving a brief description of what happens. Reader is adopted by Bruce at 14, she has a small innocent crush on Jason that isn’t explored until she is older (Jason has ZERO feelings for her at this stage because SHE IS JUST A KID HERE). At 16, she becomes more aggressive in flirting with Jason. At 17 (Gotham’s legal age of consent- I based this on New York’s age of consent), she has oral sex with Jason. At 18, they have sex (Jason is 27).

I wrote this a while back, and now that I’ve learned a few things along the way, I realise that a sexual relationship between a 27 year old and an 18 year old is still highly problematic- even though legal. I do not condone these actions in real life, and I doubt Jason would as well. This is purely fictional, an outlet for my fantasies when I was younger. I still do not believe in creative censorship and I want people to enjoy this fic even if it has no place in the real world. We are all allowed to escape into fiction and our own fantasy and enjoy them privately without guilt.

“And this is Jason,” Bruce introduced you to him.

Another one?, Jason thought, though he felt slightly guilty for thinking it. He had many problems with Bruce, but deep down he knew that Bruce adopted all of them out of kindness and good intentions.

“Hey,” he grunted, holding out his hand.

You just looked at him with big, frightful eyes, still sticking close to Bruce’s side. You looked young. You couldn’t have been older than fourteen. Your hair was cropped messily short, and it made you look almost like a young boy.

Jason raised an eyebrow and dropped his hand when you didn’t take it.

“Who’s he?” you whispered to Bruce with a soft voice that the average person wouldn’t have been able to hear.

“He, well,” Bruce hesitated, “He’s Red Hood.”

Jason’s eyebrows shot up.

“I decided to tell her everything,” Bruce explained to Jason, “So she can make an informed choice since young.”

“When you’re that young,” Jason glanced at you then back to Bruce, “Anything would sound cool. Even something dangerous that will rob you of your childhood. It’s not an informed choice, you’re basically dangling a cookie in front of her.”

“I’m not young,” you squeaked, “You’re just old.”

Jason scoffed at that.

Though you had voiced out your comeback, you were still shaking in nervousness, refusing to meet his eye.

Jason couldn’t blame you for that. He knew how his eyes looked.

“All of you were younger than her when you chose this life,” Bruce said softly.

“Did we really choose, Bruce?” he argued back.

“I’m not encouraging her,” he defended, “In fact, I’m doing the exact opposite. This time, I’m telling her the truth and nothing but the truth. The good, and the ugly.”

Jason saw how you didn’t like the way the conversation was going, talking about you as if you weren’t there. You had a deep frown on your face that made you look older than you were, but also, paradoxically, a cute pout that brought out the child in you.

“Whatever,” he finally shrugged, “Your kid. As if any of us had a say in anything anyway. If this was the only reason why you asked me to come here, I’ll be leaving.”

He turned to leave the manor, to go back to his safe house.

“Good riddance, old man!” you called out after him in a shaky voice.

Jason looked back and raised an eyebrow. You immediately blushed and avoided his eyes. In the back of his head, he thought about how he could recognize your accent anywhere.

***

The next time Jason visited the manor, which was about two months after the initial introduction, he found Bruce training you basic self-defense in the Cave.

Your hair had grown slightly, and you probably fixed the cut to suit your features better.

“What happened to being discouraging?” he said out loud.

You jumped at his voice, but Bruce looked at Jason knowingly.

“It’s just self-defense,” Bruce explained, “Useful regardless of Robin or not. She’s a fast learner.”

Jason saw how your face lit up at his praise.

Great, he thought. You weren’t even Robin yet and you already got that Robin complex every one of them seemed to have had.

The constant need for praise and emotional connection from Bruce, as well as a sense of delusional idolization of the man who adopted all of you.

“Where’s Grayson?” he huffed.

“Right here, Jay,” Dick’s warm and bright voice came from behind. Jason resisted the urge to jump just like you did.

Dick was already in his Nightwing costume, and walked towards you.

“Hey little sis!” he greeted, arms open. You flung yourself at him for a hug.

Jason rolled his eyes.

“Don’t the two of you live here?” he scoffed.

“Just because you’re emotionally constipated doesn’t mean the rest of us are,” you shot at him.

Jason smirked. You were feisty, yet still wary of him.

He found that adorable.

“She’s right,” Dick chuckled, “You wanted to see me, Jay?”

“Later,” he mumbled, and changed into his alter ego.

Once Jason and Dick were alone on patrol, he brought it up.

“Don’t you disagree with this?”

“With what?”

“Her,” he said, “Or more specifically, him bringing her into all of this.”

“I did at first,” Dick frowned, “But you’ve only met her once, Jay. You don’t live with her. She’s been through a lot, and her being Robin, well, I think it’d be good for her.”

Jason felt his chest tightening. Bruce had always used the excuse that he made all of them into Robin to help channel their emotions into doing good, to prevent them from falling into darkness.

Yet, Jason still did. And he fell right into an abyssal void that he was still trying to get out of.

“Maybe,” Dick continued, “You should get to know her. You’ll see what I’m talking about, and what Bruce sees in her. Tim disagreed at first as well, but after a while, even he warmed up to the idea.”

He frowned at Dick, and then looked away, sighing.

“Whatever.”

***

A month later, Jason had agreed to meet Dick and Tim at a diner.

The food wasn’t that good, and the service average, but it held many memories for him. Dick used to take him there after patrol when he was still Robin. When he went rogue, Dick had brought Tim there. Post-rogue, all three of them would meet up.

He was early, because he was closer. He waited about ten minutes before he saw Tim walking through the door, with Dick behind him. Following Dick, he saw you.

He frowned.

He supposed that he had to get used to you being around, since you were already in the picture.

He didn’t know why he felt like distancing himself from you. With Tim, he had a good reason. A personal reason that he had moved on from.

But you? He had no reason to push you away. Though, Jason had the tendency to push everyone away.

Dick took a seat next to Jason at the booth, and across from him were Tim and you. You were dressed simply in an oversized hoodie he recognized belonged to Dick. It made you seem smaller and younger than you really were. Your hair was in a short bob now. So you were growing it out after all.

Fine. He decided to give you a chance. He had been unfair to you, after all.

“Isn’t a bit too late for you to be out, kid?” he poked at you, “Don’t you have school tomorrow?”

“Fuck you, you colossal freak of nature,” you cussed at him.

Jason was taken aback.

And then he started laughing out loud.

You weren’t so bad after all. The shyness and wariness that you displayed the earlier times almost all gone, and then there was that familiar accent that he somehow felt at ease listening to.

Dick let out a loud groan.

“You owe me twenty,” Tim suddenly said to Dick.

“Come on,” Dick addressed you, “I had faith in you! What happened?”

“It’s just in my nature, okay?” you pouted, “I can’t help it.”

Dick fished out a twenty and threw it at Tim.

“What is happening?” Jason asked, confused.

“I bet ten that the first thing she says to you would be an insult, twenty if she threw in the word ‘fuck’,” Tim grinned.

“And I,” Dick enunciated dramatically, “Thought that she would at least hold it in until after we finished eating.”

“What, you a potty mouth or something?” Jason smirked at you.

“Unless Alfred or Bruce is around,” you grinned.

It was the first time you smiled at him.

“Coward,” he shook his head, “I used to say all sorts of shit even in front of Bruce and Alfred. You gotta step up your game, kid.”

“And Alfred got you bankrupt, didn’t he?” Dick reminded, “You had to put so much of your allowance in the swear jar.”

“I believe in freedom of expression, alright?” Jason huffed, “I had to stand by my principles.”

“Principles?” Tim scoffed, “You?”

“Yes, me, Timbers,” Jason reiterated, “I’m a man of my word. If I’m gonna swear, I’m gonna go all the way.”

“You’re an old man of your word,” Jason heard you mumble.

“I’m only twenty-three, sweetheart,” he responded, “Dick’s the old man here.”

“Am not!” Dick protested.

“Yeah, Dick’s not,” you agreed.

“How does that make any sense?” Jason challenged.

“Because Dick doesn’t treat me like I’m a kid,” you shrugged, “He brings me up to his level, so I don’t see him as an old man. You on the other hand…”

“But you are a kid!” Jason argued back, “What are you, twelve?”

“You know for a fact that I’m fourteen!” you growled.

Jason grinned at you, and expected you to continue defending yourself. But for some reason, you just remained silent, and he saw a blush of red settling on your cheeks.

“Whatever you say, kid.”

***

The time that passed between that night and the next time he came back was shorter. He watched you train with Dick, and saw that you had already improved a lot.

He went back, and came back again, three weeks later. Your moves were faster, cleaner, more efficient.

He went back, and came back again, a week later. You landed a blow on Tim.

Soon, he realised that he was looking forward to his visits, because he wanted to see how much you progressed during the short time he was gone- and you never disappointed.

“She must be training nonstop,” he casually said to Tim one night on patrol. Bruce still didn’t allow you out with them yet, because you were still too new.

“Dude, she wakes up at four every morning to train for two hours before going to school,” Tim told him, “After she gets back, she does her homework and studies for a bit, and then trains again for another three hours before going to bed. She’s borderline crazy.”

Jason frowned to himself.

He knew that pattern. Training relentlessly to lose himself in the physical exertion, to feel like he had some sort of power every time he landed a punch, to regain some sort of control.

You were either running away from something, or towards something.

“I never asked,” he started, “But how did he end up adopting her?”

“Uh,” Tim rubbed the back of his head in hesitation, “I don’t know if I should be the one to tell you. You should ask her yourself.”

“Oh, come on,” he groaned, “You mean to tell me that you asked her yourself? Dick or Bruce didn’t tell you?”

“Of course!” Tim grumbled, “We’re friends, Jason. We hang out. We talk. You’re the only one missing from the circle.”

“Fucking whatever.”

***

He really wanted to ask, he really did.

If not out of care, then out of curiosity.

But honestly, a heart to heart talk with another human being? That wasn’t him.

Yet, he really wanted to know.

He had tried to sit down next to you when you were just watching TV alone in the living room, he had tried to knock on your door while you were blasting shitty music out loud. He had even tried to call you up and see if you wanted to meet him for dinner somewhere.

But he never got to it.

In the end, a year had passed since he first met you, and it was your big night. It was your first debut as Robin.

“Stick to at least one of us,” Jason overheard Bruce instruct you in the Cave, “Don’t go off on your own, don’t act first, and always listen to orders.”

“Yes, sir,” you rolled your eyes, then put on your domino mask.

Jason smirked at your attitude. You had come out of your shell and he learned that you were really a feisty, sassy, annoying little brat.

He thought the Robin uniform suited you. It was more modern than his was- the colors more muted- and he saw that you probably had demanded Bruce to include designs of your own. Like how your black cape sort of shimmered in the light, and how there was fucking lace at the lateral sides of your legs.

Your hair was long now.

All of you split up during patrol, and Jason had found himself panting on a roof after taking down a dozen guys who thought it was a good idea to seek revenge for the time he pissed on them from the edge of a building while they were doing a drug exchange.

It had been pretty funny, the way they were so furiously humiliated.

Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw a movement. He turned to look at the building from across the street, and saw that you were sitting there on the edge, legs dangling, overlooking the alley below.

He grappled to where you were and silently approached you from behind.

“I thought he told you to stick to someone,” he said.

“Jesus, fuck,” you jumped, “Stop doing that, you asshole.”

“Think of it as training for your ears,” he chuckled, and sat down next to you.

“I was with Bruce, then Dick, then Tim, then I ran away from Tim to find you,” you explained, “Looks like you found me first, though.”

“Why did you want to find me?”

“Dunno,” you shrugged, “It’s my first night. Just wanted to see everyone in action.”

“Well, you missed one big fight,” he said, “Took out a dozen guys in under five minutes.”

“Not bad,” you smirked, “Wish I could have seen it.”

“You will eventually,” he hummed, “It’s not a big deal.”

“Yes, because you obviously have done worse,” you poked.

“Is that why you were so afraid of me in the beginning?” Jason wondered, “Because you knew I killed people?”

“I was never afraid of you,” you frowned, “What gave you that idea?”

“You couldn’t stop shaking the first time I met you,” he reminded.

“Fine,” you conceded, “You looked pretty big and scary. And when Bruce said that you were Red Hood, that shook me up a bit. But it wasn’t because you killed people.”

“That’s a first,” he scoffed.

“But now I know that you’re just a massive prick who pretends to be badass to cover up the fact that you’re just a sad, fragile being- well, it’s hard to be scared.”

“Oh, we’re throwing shade now are we?” he snickered, “What about you and your obsession with training just to compensate for the fact that you feel small and weak inside with no control over your life?”

He had expected you to retort, but you just frowned and looked down towards the alley.

Shit.

Jason always had that problem where he didn’t know when to shut up, or what not say to people. Granted, most of the time he didn’t care if the other party got offended or not.

But he didn’t want to hurt you.

He was just going to open his mouth to apologize until-

“I’ve been here before,” you started, “This alley. A long time ago. My big brother- he dragged me here away from my dad so he could beat me up.”

Jason remained silent in shock.

“Not that my dad was any better,” you added, “I guess my brother was like that to me because my dad was like that to him.”

He didn’t know how to respond to that. Was he supposed to comfort you? Or tell you something funny to distract you from the sadness?

Instead, he asked, “What about your mom?”

Jason’s mom had been there, yet not fully there. But when she was, he was grateful at least, to know the warmth of a hug in a run down apartment with no heater during the winter.

“Died giving birth to me,” you explained, “Dad always blamed me for it. He’d tell me that he wished I was never born- that he wished he wore a condom when he fucked mom, that at least if she was alive, he didn’t need to fuck whores.”

“And fuck whores, he did,” you continued bitterly, “But they weren’t enough, I guess. He- he even- I-”

You never finished your sentence, but you didn’t need to. Jason was smart enough to put two and two together.

He felt his blood boil, his rage seeping in. It was like he was that Red Hood again. And for the first time since he came back to Bruce, he didn’t try to push that memory away.

He could go rogue again. Just one more time.

“Where is he- they- where are they now?” Jason managed to grit, tasting blood in his mouth.

“Dead,” you snorted, “Thanks to you.”

“What?”

That took him out of his burning anger.

“Turns out dad was working with Black Mask,” you elaborated, “He dragged my brother with him as well. It’s how he managed to afford all those prostitutes and heroin, I guess. I think they were at one of those shipments you crashed or something back then. You left twenty dead.”

Fuck, he remembered.

Black Mask was at the docks, waiting for a shipment of weapons, drugs, and girls. He remembered feeling frustrated that Black Mask slipped away before he got to him, so he took out his anger on everyone else working with Black Mask.

“Lived in the streets after that,” you continued, “Fend for myself. Cut my hair short so people would think I was a boy. I had to stay tough, you know? When Bruce found me, I was doing an odd job for one of the local gangs. Small one. Was supposed to recruit people my age. Start them young, he said. I guess Bruce had been following me for a bit. He approached me and that scared the shit out of me.”

You paused to smile sadly at the memory.

“But he just asked me for my name, and age,” you stared into space, “And he told me that I could do better than that. That I had potential. He asked me if I wanted to help people rather than drag them into dangerous stuff. And how could I say no? Especially after wishing for so long that someone would come and help me when I was with my dad and brother living in a run down apartment with a leaking roof near Crime Alley.”

You finally looked at him.

Jason was glad that he was wearing a helmet, because he wanted to hide from the stabbing guilt he felt. He didn’t want you to see him that way.

“So you’re right,” your blank white lenses pierced his own, “I train because I want to feel strong, because I’ve felt weak my whole life. I train to feel as if I have control over my own body, my own movements. Hell, even the fact that I grew my hair long gave me a sense of control.”

“I’m sorry,” Jason finally managed to croak, “I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s fine,” you dismissed, “Plus, you did me a favour before. I kind of owe you one.”

“Favour?”

“You got rid of my dad for me,” you stood up, “Thanks.”

And for the first time, looking up at you as you were looking down, smiling at him, he didn’t see you as a kid.

“Sure thing, kid.”

***

Jason started dropping by once every two weeks. Sometimes he would even come around twice in a week.

He had warmed up to you after you told him your story, though he was kind of frustrated that Dick, Tim, and Bruce were all right, and he was the wrong one all along because he didn’t know you.

But then, you also started warming up to him.

And that became the major issue.

Since you donned the Robin uniform, your ego had spiked up. Your confidence and arrogance came with every progress you made. A year into Robin, Jason couldn’t see a semblance of that frightened little girl with the short hair, voice shaking as she tried to insult him.

No, now you were just so fucking annoying.

And for some reason, you started to be more aware of your sexuality as your confidence grew.

At the age of 16, you had started coming onto Jason strong.

“Jason,” you pouted at him, “Why don’t you come stay at the Manor anymore?”

“Because you’re there, kid,” he joked, staring at Gotham’s skyline from the rooftop where you, him, and Batman would occasionally stop to catch a breath.

“Jasooon,” you whined, high pitched and long, “I miss spending time with you.”

Jason raised an eyebrow, because you were touching his arm, squeezing his biceps. Not that you could see his face, given the helmet he wore. He kind of missed how you were back then. All you had were insults and swear words for him, and you definitely didn’t whine.

“Don’t you have Tim to annoy?”

“He’s always busy,” you huffed, “And when he’s not busy, he’s sleepy. Tim’s boring. You’re more fun, in an assholey cocknose dickweed kind of way.”

Ah, there it was, your colorful language. He had to admit, your creativity impressed him.

“Well, I can’t argue with that,” he chuckled.

“So why don’t you come over some time and we can have some fun?” you purred seductively.

Jason was taken aback.

He wasn’t sure whether you meant it innocently, or whether you had hidden motives. He glanced at Bruce who was minding his own business, ignoring the two of you.

He didn’t think you would flirt with him in front of Bruce, so he dismissed it and blamed himself for thinking lewd things.

“My idea of fun involves a bottle of whiskey and B-Grade horror movies, kid,” he patted you on the head, “And you’re too young to drink.”

“Hmph,” you slapped his hand away, “That’s not what I was talking about, but whatever.”

You strutted away.

It wasn’t that he didn’t find you attractive, it was that he shouldn’t find you attractive. What was a 16 year old doing flirting with someone his age? Weren’t you supposed to have crushes on the quarterbacks in your school?

Hell, even if you wanted someone who knew of your nighttime activities, there always were the Teen Titans, whom you regularly joined. That Aqualad wasn't a bad kid, but for some reason he didn't like the thought of you dating just yet.

But still, you had no business with someone like Jason. Age wise, or personality wise.

*** Two weeks later, he dropped by again for movie night.

When he walked into the living room, the only person who quirked up when they saw him was you, probably because the rest had already heard him coming.

“Jay!” you squealed, and ran to him, flinging your arms around his neck in a hug.

“Hey- oomph,” he slightly stumbled. It was the first time you hugged him.

And now that you were so close, he was hyper aware of you. You were wearing shorts and a tank top- with no bra. He could smell your vanilla lotion and your chocolate spice shampoo.

He could feel your strong arms, your heavy weight, your burning heat against him.

And for the first time, he actually got turned on by you.

Fuck, he thought. He shouldn’t be thinking of you like that. As if the age difference wasn’t vast already, you were still underaged.

He awkwardly patted you on the back, in an attempt to respond to the hug. He could make out Tim and Dick snickering at him at his obvious discomfort.

“You’ve gained weight,” he gruffed, trying to break the hug because he was dangerously close to popping a boner.

As expected, you let go of him.

“Yeah, I did!” you grinned happily, “I’ve gained about five pounds of muscle mass!”

You started flexing your toned biceps comically.

“Maybe you can gain five pounds of brain mass next time, kid,” he smirked and ruffled your hair.

“I’m pretty sure that’s a medical condition, you twatwaffle arsebadger,” you shot back at him.

“Jar,” a chorus of lazy mumbles from everyone else rose.

You grumbled and walked towards a coffee table, where a clear mason jar almost filled to the brim with folded notes sat. You shoved in five dollars.

Jason took off his jacket and sat next to Dick on the long sofa. You then hopped towards him and started snuggling next to him.

Jason looked at Dick in question.

Dick merely shrugged.

Jason had a hard time concentrating on the movie that night, because you leaning your head on his chest, and playing with the denim of his jeans absentmindedly.

He wasn’t used to it.

Human contact.

And he knew how you were. You were probably the same with Dick and Tim. You just chose him that night to snuggle up to.

But then you made a comment about how hot the guy in the movie was. Jason didn’t think much of it until you leaned up to press your mouth on his ear and whispered, “Not as hot as you, though.”

That made him jump out of his seat in panic.

Everyone else looked at him suspiciously, but you were just looking at him with a knowing smirk.

“Toilet,” he mumbled, and left.

“What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck,” he paced in small circles in a washroom down the hall.

He looked at his reflection only to see how red he was at his ears. He gripped the edges of the sink and took deep breaths, trying to play it cool.

Now, it was obvious that you were flirting with him. There was no denying it.

But why on God’s planet were you?

Jason groaned quietly to himself.

Whatever. He thought that you’d probably just drop it eventually.

***

Half a year later, and it didn’t.

And it got bad. Real bad.

Jason still kept visiting regularly, and every single time he did, he would get almost sexually harassed by you.

He was just sitting down in an armchair in the living room, reading a book, when you came along, and with the most arrogant, most entitled smirk, sat on his lap.

“Get off,” he grit, eyes never leaving his book. He was scared of what you were wearing this time.

“But you’re so warm,” you hummed, swinging up your legs across his lap, so that you were being cradled by him and the armchair.

“The fire’s right there,” he pointed to the fireplace, “If you need help, I can throw you in it.”

“I’d rather you throw me in bed,” you purred.

He snapped his book shut and squeezed the bridge of his nose.

“Just. Get. Off,” he growled.

It was dangerous. Your smell was intoxicating, and you were shifting and shuffling against his front. His mind started to wander, and he hadn’t even looked at you yet.

“But Jasooon,” you whined, “You’re nice and soft.”

He glared at you.

And regretted it.

You were wearing an almost see-through white loose t-shirt that exposed your shoulders. The thin fabric clung onto the curves of your breasts which were- thankfully- covered by a pink bra. You had a pair of satin booty shorts on which hardly covered your ass, which was sitting on top of his crotch.

“Actually, no let me take that back,” you pretended to wonder, “You’re pretty hard.”

And you gave him a wicked grin.

His eyes widen in panic and he stood up suddenly, causing you to fall flat on the floor.

“Fuck!” you cursed, “What's the big deal, jizzcock?”

He left the room and rushed to the toilet. He looked down, and found his penis was normal, flaccid, non-erect, unfilled.

That bitch fucking tricked me, he thought.

And he fell for it.

He went to look for Bruce who was in the cave, in front of the computers.

He took a wheeled chair and sat behind him.

“Bruce,” he started, “I need to talk to you.”

“What is it?” Bruce asked without sparing a glance at him.

That ticked him off a bit.

“It’s about your daughter.”

Jason saw Bruce pause, and then turned around to finally face him. “What about her?”

“She’s been flirting with me,” he grumbled.

Bruce raised an amused eyebrow.

“She’s sixteen, and she’s flirting with a twenty-five year old man!” he complained, “If she’s doing this to me, God knows who else she’s been doing this to!”

“And?” Bruce questioned.

“And? And?” Jason repeated, “And aren’t you worried?”

“She can take care of herself,” Bruce stated, “She’s mature. She won’t let herself be taken advantage of.

“Look, Bruce,” Jason squeezed his temples, “It’s great that you trust her and all that, but don’t you think it’s kind of fucked up? Christ, she’s sixteen!”

“And she’s well aware of that,” he said, “What would you have me do? Do you want me to talk to her?”

“Forget it,” he gave in, and left for his safehouse without saying goodbye to you.

Because that night he laid on his bed in the dark, guiltily thinking about your ass on his dick earlier. But thankfully unlike earlier, he had allowed his cock to fill up.

He knew he shouldn’t, but he thought of that time when you and him went jogging around the manor. You wore just a sports bra that showed off your cleavage, and sports shorts that rode up your ass. He couldn’t resist looking at the way your tits bounce with every step, and when you ran in front of him, his eyes darted down to check out your ass before he realised what he was doing and excused himself.

Excuse himself because he needed to stop looking, to stop thinking.

But now, he let his thoughts free.

He thought about how that one drop of sweat trickled down between the valleys of your breasts, how your muscular back glistened in the sun, how flushed your cheeks were.

He glanced down at his cock, which was already hard and leaking precum onto his stomach, twitching in need of attention.

“Don’t touch it, don’t touch it,” he muttered.

He couldn’t stop his mind from wandering, but he could try to resist from touching himself.

He owed you that at the very least.

He gulped loudly.

It really wasn’t fair. You didn’t look sixteen, or act sixteen. You were far mature even at a younger age.

But you were still sixteen.

And it wasn’t fair how you could tease him and get away with it.

“Fuck,” he groaned in frustration.

The way you swore sort of turned him on as well, oddly. He loved your use of language, and how dirty your mouth was.

How even dirtier your mouth would be if he shoved his cock in-

“No,” he whined, and he touched his cock.

He stroked it once, twice, three times, and then he came hard, long ribbons splashing onto his chest.

“I am a jizzcock,” he whispered to himself in shame, and then cleaned himself up.

***

Three months later, Jason had just come back from a mission in Mexico. Throughout his trip, he’d been bombarded with texts from you.

The topics spanned from the usual banter about training, Dick, and how you’ve been annoying Alfred with “ok, boomer” memes, to you sending him mirror selfies of yourself in fitting rooms trying out clothes that made Jason almost drool and you attempting to flirt with him.

Jason responded normally to the former, but sent short uninterested texts to the latter.

But when he came back to his safe house, he found his spare handgun on his bed- which was not where he last put it. On it, was a sticky note with a written message:

Try not to lick. R.

“What the fuck?” he muttered. R must have stood for Robin, and then suddenly Jason gulped, wondering what the fuck you had done to his gun.

He opened his phone to check his conversation with you, only to find that you had sent him a ten-minute length video.

His thumbs were shaking when he clicked play.

The video started with a closeup of your face in an awkward position, setting what Jason presumed to be your phone, on a surface with an angle you had in mind. Jason looked behind him and saw that his chair had been placed right in front of his bed, where you must have put the phone on.

“Fuck,” Jason realised. He did not like where this was going.

Or did he?

In the video, you then strolled to his bed, fingers touching his sheets. You were wearing nothing but a white flowy sundress that Jason thought made your skin look absolutely radiant. But instead of sitting on his bed, you had gone out of the frame, and then came back with the gun.

He swallowed hard.

You sat on the edge of the bed with a naughty glint in your eye. And then, you started to caress yourself sensually, squeezing your breasts as you made your way down to between your legs.

Jason realised he had started sweating and panting, getting aroused as his cock slowly started to fill out.

You spread your legs and dipped your hand beneath your dress, but Jason still couldn’t see anything because you had taken the fabric and hid what was going on under. He saw your mouth fall open and you let out a long, loud moan.

“Jason.”

Jason’s breath stuttered. His cock was aching in his jeans, begging to be touched.

Your hands were working underneath the fabric, teasing Jason with only an idea of what you were doing.

“I’m so wet, Jay,” you purred at the camera.

And then, your other hand went to take the gun.

You brought it up to your lips and flattened your tongue against the gun and licked all the way to the muzzle. Even in the low quality, he could see your saliva wetting his gun. Then, you gave him a wink and brought the gun to where your other hand was, between your legs.

Jason stopped the video then and squeezed his eyes shut, breathing hard through his nose at an attempt to calm himself down. Once he did have a semblance of control, which took almost five minutes of just trying to steady his breathing, he opened his eyes and dialled your number.

“Hey, Jay,” you picked up.

“What the fuck?!” he roared, “How the fuck did you get into my safehouse? Hell, how did you even know where it was?!”

“Oh, Jason, please,” he could hear you roll yours eyes, “You’re overreacting.”

“Over-?” he growled, “Overreacting?! You came into my house and then started to- started to-”

“Fuck myself with your gun?” you giggled.

His dick twitched.

“You need to stop this, kid,” he tried to bring his rage in, “Stop it, before you regret it.”

“Or what?” you teased, “What would you do to me, Jason? Spank me?”

He couldn’t. Jason just couldn’t with you. So he ended the call and threw his phone across the room.

He sat down at the edge of the bed and buried his face in his palms. His cock was still aching, and he was dying to touch it.

He glanced at the gun next to him.

“Fuck,” he groaned, and then unbuttoned his jeans, letting out a hiss of relief when he could finally take it out.

He started to furiously stroke his cock, just staring at the gun laying there. He wanted to smell it. He wanted to lick it. He wanted to see if he could still taste you on the metal.

“God fucking dammit,” he cursed, and then he came in pulses.

*** “What’s up, fucktrumpet?” you poked.

Jason let out a long and heavy breath from his nose, the sound becoming static as it went through the voice scrambler of his helmet.

It was a week later, and Jason had joined patrol with you, Bruce and Tim.

“Fuck off, kid,” he walked away from you, pretending to be looking out for something from the ledge of the roof.

“Oh, come on,” you whined, coming closer to him anyway. “You enjoyed it.”

“Tim,” Jason turned away to approach the younger man, “How’s things?”

“Don’t ignore me!” you ran after him.

“Leave me out of whatever this is,” Tim sighed. “I’m not in the mood.”

“Pfft, you’re always in the mood for me, Timbers,” Jason nudged his side with his elbow.

“No, she’s always in the mood for you,” he pointed to you, “For some reason.”

“Well, I’m not in the mood for her,” he grit.

“Meanie,” you pouted, “All I’ve ever been is nice to you, Jay. And what do you do? Act like an absolute thundercunt.”

He wanted to laugh at that, but he couldn’t. He had to keep up his appearances.

“Listen here, you brat,” Jason finally turned to you and poked your shoulder hard with his finger, making you wince. “You stay the fuck away from me.”

“Hey, Jay,” Tim suddenly interrupted, “You don’t need to do that, man.”

“This little bitch broke into my house and started defiling my things, Tim,” he growled, “Yes, I need to do that.”

“Defiling your things?” Tim repeated.

You let out a soft giggle.

“Forget it,” Jason threw his hands up in the air. “I’ll patrol alone.”

Jason saw the slight disappointment in your eyes when he left which made him feel a little guilty, but he ignored it.

Whatever, you were basically just asking for it.

***

Another half a year went by, and Jason found himself at the Manor for Dick’s barbecue and pool party. He was already dreading it, because he knew you would be up to no fucking good, especially when you had the excuse to wear a bikini in front of him.

He had contemplated about not going, but Roy was going to be there, and Roy was making him go.

The first person Jason looked out for was you, because he had to be on his guard. He was standing at the glass sliding door of the manor that opened to the pool to survey the crowd. He spotted you in the pool, laughing at who he assumed was Aqualad- Jason didn't bother to learn his name- wearing a dark red bikini top that fixated behind your neck.

“Jaybird! You made it!” Roy’s voice boomed all the way from the other side of the pool and came running to where Jason was standing awkwardly.

He knew many of Dick's friends, but he was never particularly close to any of them besides Roy and Kori. Now that Kori was gone, Roy was all he had left.

“Don't call me that,” he grumbled back.

“Aw, come on,” Roy groaned, “You came to a pool party in a t-shirt and jeans? Seriously?”

“I wasn't planning on swimming,” he shrugged.

Roy was sporting a horrible bright yellow swimming shorts with green palm leaves.

“Well, I was, so I’ll catch up with you later, okay?”

“Yeah,” Jason nodded and decided to head to the pool chairs and put on his sunglasses. He even brought a book to bury his nose into to avoid social interaction.

He heard a splash of water and from the corner of his eye, saw you coming towards him.

“Don’t even,” he snapped at you before you could get a word out.

“I wasn't even going to do anything, fucking dipshit,” you shot back.

Jason forced his eyes back to his book to avoid getting caught looking at how the water trickled down your glistening skin that looked oh so soft-

“What do you want then?” he huffed, turning a page.

“Well,” you began, taking a seat on the pool chair where Jason's feet were, “I was going to ask you about Roy.”

Jason glared at you, peeking from the top of his book.

“What about Roy?”

“You guys are close, right?” you hummed.

“I guess so.”

“Like, best friends?”

“What are we, twelve?” he scoffed, “Why are you asking me so many questions?”

“Well, since you're close to Roy,” you started, “I was wondering if you knew his type.”

“His type?”

“Yeah, like what kind of girls does he like?” you grinned.

“Ones who aren't underaged,” Jason growled.

“Jason I'm already seventeen,” you reminded, “Which is the legal age of consent in Gotham.”

“It doesn't matter,” he grumbled, “He's older than me, which makes him way too old for you. Forget it.”

You pouted, and then stood up. He had to redirect his gaze back to his book.

“It’s like you don't even know me, Jaybird,” you snickered, and with a flip of your wet hair which splashed droplets of water onto him, you strutted away.

He was gritting his jaw so hard he could feel his teeth ache.

Fuck, why can't you just stop?

“I need a fucking drink,” he muttered to himself and left for the kitchen where he rummaged through the refrigerator to find a stout.

He popped open the bottle cap on the marble edge of the kitchen island.

“Alfred would kill you if he saw you do that,” a voice laughed.

Jason rolled his eyes at Dick, who was sipping on a can of beer behind him. “I’ve gotten in trouble for worse.”

“God, I forget how similar you guys are,” he leaned against the counter.

“Who?”

“You know who. Her,” he pointed out.

“We’re not the same,” he denied, heading back outside.

“No, she deals with her issues better than you did,” Dick followed him, “As a matter of fact, you're still dealing.”

“Get to the point, Grayson,” he snapped.

“The point is, she’s not a kid, Jason,” Dick told him, “Why don't you give her a chance?”

Jason stopped in his tracks, standing still before exiting through the glass door. It was quieter inside the manor.

“A chance for what?” he grit.

“To prove herself to you,” Dick explained, “I've noticed how you treat her, Jay. Tim as well. It's like you're trying to push her away. Why? You don't think she's good enough?”

“Holy shit,” Jason started laughing humourlessly, “You think this is about me simply not liking her? You guys think I'm just being angsty?”

“Isn't it?” Dick cocked his head to the side.

“She's been fucking flirting with me, Grayson,” Jason said.

“Okay, I get that, but she sort of flirts with everyone,” he shrugged.

“She comes and sit on my lap, whispers stupid shit in my ear, sends me pictures of herself trying on revealing clothes, makes vulgar motions with her hands, fucking tries to seduce me,” he listed down, “Don't tell me she does that with everyone.”

“Okay, maybe not,” the older man frowned.

“Let me tell you, then,” Jason walked closer to Dick, “She broke into my fucking house, sat on my fucking bed, and started recording herself on her phone, and then sent the video to me.”

“Wait, what?” Dick sputtered, “Recording herself doing what?”

“You fucking know what,” he stated.

“Oh, Jesus,” Dick ran a finger through his hair, “Wow, she's ballsy.”

“That's your reaction?” Jason scoffed, “She's ballsy?”

“I mean-”

“She's sexually harassing me, Grayson!” he argued.

“But,” Dick began, “What did you really think about it? I mean, really?”

“What do you mean?” he hissed.

“Did you watch it?” Dick persisted. “The video?”

“What- I- no, I just-” Jason spluttered, caught off guard.

“You can't lie to me, Jason,” Dick gave him a mischievous smile, “You like her, too. That's why you're pushing her away. Because you don't think you're good enough for her.”

Fuck Dick and his fucking superior detective skills.

“She's too young for me,” Jason simply stated.

“Well, apparently not too young for Roy,” Dick smirked.

“What-” Jason turned around and looked outside.

You were in the pool, standing in the corner. You had a hand on Roy’s chest, looking up at him and laughing. He had a hand on your waist, and was whispering something into your ear.

Jason went into a fit of rage when he saw Roy touching you.

“Mother fucker,” Jason swore, and without thinking, went straight to where you were. He stood there at the edge of the pool, arms crossed, and looking down at the two of you who were both unaware of his presence.

“Roy,” Jason growled.

Roy jumped and looked at Jason in panic, and as if you electrocuted him, immediately jumped away from your touch.

“H-hey, Jaybird,” he awkwardly laughed, “I was just- I was- uh- I was telling her about what a great friend you were.”

“Oh, really?” he raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah!” he nodded vigorously, “Jason here is super good with his aim as well. Could even rival mine.”

Jason ignored Roy, and glared at you, who was looking up at him with obviously fake innocent eyes.

“Out,” he commanded.

“What?”

“I said out,” he repeated. “Out of the pool. I need to talk to you.”

“Oh, come on, Jason,” you started to whine, but then stopped when you saw his expression.

You climbed out of the pool, and again, Jason had to avert his eyes. Without sparing a glance at you, he gripped you by the arm and pulled you to go inside.

“Ow! Jason, let go, fucking cocksucker!” you cried.

He snatched a towel from Tim’s grip as he walked, ignoring Tim’s protests and stares from others, and then threw it on top of your head.

“Ugh- Jason!” you complained. He continued to lead you inside the manor, up the stairs, and to his old room.

He slammed the door shut behind him.

“What's the big deal, you shitpouch?! Who do you fucking think you are? Fucking cumwipe, pisswizard, cuntpuddle...”

That wasn't the end of your swearing. You went on for another good minute of words that could make Batman blush, before stopping.

You were fuming. Your face red, your expression twisted into a scowl, water dripping all over the wooden floors, the fluffy towel around your neck that you hadn't used.

God, you were so hot when you were angry.

“You done?” he deadpanned. He sensed that you were going to go into another stream of name calling, so he cut you off.

“I told you to forget Roy,” he grit.

“And since when have I ever done what you told me to do?” you shot at him

You had a point.

“Look, kid-”

“I'm not a fucking kid, Jason!” you yelled at him for the first time, “I haven't been a kid since my dad- since I was twelve!”

Jason suddenly felt pain in his chest.

“I know you've been through shit,” Jason acknowledged, “What happened with your dad and your brother- I’m fucking glad I killed them. And even if I hadn’t back then, I would have broken every single rule and hunt them down and make them suffer before ending their lives after finding out what they did to you. Hell, before you told me that they were dead, I was already ready to turn every single rock to find them.”

Your expression softened at that.

“And I know you had to grow up fast,” he continued, “All of us who lived there did. But you're out of that now. You don't have to fucking try so hard to act older than you are anymore.”

Your eyes shone with anger once more.

“That's the thing you never got, Jason,” you spat, “I'm not trying. I never did. This is who I am.”

You were looking at him with such fierce intensity that Jason almost forgot how to breathe.

Because you were right. He had gone through the same process where he was made to grow up fast, where he couldn’t afford to act like a kid.

He looked at you, trying not to show much emotion on his face.

Somehow in the heat of the argument and you yelling cusses at him, the two of you had gotten closer to each other, and Jason could even see the tears brimming in your eyes that were threatening to spill.

He immediately felt like a piece of shit, like every word you called him. He never wanted to hurt you.

“Whatever,” Jason huffed, looking away to avoid your glare, “Just stay away from Roy.”

“Why, you two dating or something?” you smirked.

He simply glared at you. You obviously had recovered from your anger and was now back to your usual snarky self.

“Or,” you began, “You were jealous.”

“Don't be ridiculous,” Jason objected, “Why would I be jealous?”

“Because,” you drawled, walking closer to him, “You like me.”

Jason had backed up each time you walked to him, and before he knew it his back was hitting the door.

Fuck, he hated how much you affected him. You had him backed up against the fucking door, for fuck’s sake.

To get a semblance of power back, he stared at you straight in the eye, unblinking, and leaned closer to you.

“You wish,” he said coldly.

He noticed that your breath stuttered, and a blush creeped up your cheeks.

Then, he leaned back and smirked.

“Oh, no you don't,” you shook your head, “You think you can win this game, Todd?”

“Unlike you, I'm not playing a game.”

“But yes you are, Jay,” you placed your palms flat on his chest, “You’ve been playing hard to get with me.”

“Playing hard to get is only used when the other person actually wants you,” he scoffed.

He didn't know why, but he was sweating. His respiratory rate had gone up, and shit.

Shit.

He could feel his dick getting filled up.

Maybe it was how close you were to him, maybe it was the fact that you were half naked in front of him with all the privacy he could have asked for.

Maybe it was the fact that it was you who had him in a corner instead of the other way round.

“I'm not a fucking idiot, Jay. Batman trained me, too. I've seen how you look at me and I’ve seen how you tried not to.”

Fuck.

“Your pupils dilate, your breathing gets faster, you start to sweat,” you went on, “And then suddenly you excuse yourself. You run away.”

Your hands went up to his shoulders, and your body was now against his, getting his clothes wet. He could smell the chlorine on you when you leaned into his ear and whispered.

“You fucking coward,” you breathed.

Jason's breath hitched and he had to squeeze his eyes shut. He pressed his palms against the door behind him to restrain himself from touching you, grabbing you, squeezing you, slapping you.

Jason knew he was fully hard now, because it was getting painful.

Suddenly, the pressure and heat of your body against his own disappeared. He opened his eyes.

But sucked in a breath when he saw that you were on your knees in front of him, eye level to his crotch, the tent in his pants mere inches away from your lips.

“What the fuck are you- mmpf,” he threw his head back, hitting the door.

You had gripped his shaft hard, sending a pulse of pleasure through his body.

No. Jason had to stop this. He couldn't go through with this. He shouldn't.

“You want me to suck your cock, Jay?” You purred.

Jason swallowed hard, just trying his best to restrain himself.

He remained silent for a beat. And then-

“Do whatever you want,” he managed to choke out.

You showed him a winning grin, and then unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants, pulling down his jeans.

You started to mouth his length through the fabric of his boxers, getting it translucent with your spit. He had never been so horny in his entire life.

As much as Jason’s head was screaming at him, telling him to stop you, telling him how inappropriate it was, he didn’t have the strength to voice it out.

He wanted to tell you to stop teasing him, to hurry up and put your mouth around his cock already, but again, it was like he had lost his voice.

He was utterly conflicted, so he opt to just stay silent.

You hooked your fingers in the waistband of his briefs and then pulled it down, revealing his cock to you. He hissed slightly at the relief.

Jason wanted to remember your expression the minute you saw his cock forever, he wanted to burn it in his brain and immortalize it. Your eyes had gone rounder, your mouth popped open with a gasp, and your excitement grew.

“It’s everything that I’ve dreamed about and more,” you fluttered your eyes dramatically before gripping his shaft and licking one long, steady stripe from the base to his tip.

Jason bit his lip to muffle his groan.

You licked him again, and again, and then started to swirl your tongue around the head of his cock, tracing your tongue around the sulcus underneath his head.

Fuck, you were so fucking good at teasing him, and making him squirm.

He looked down at you, and you were looking up through your long lashes, eyes almost innocent. And then, you took him in his mouth, going all the way down.

“Fuck,” Jason gasped.

You immediately built a rhythm, the most perfect rhythm that he liked. It was suspicious how you knew his preference, and at the back of his head he made a mental reminder to check his room for hidden cameras.

You provided him with the right amount of tongue, the right amount of suction, the right amount of teeth gently grazing him from time to time that he swore could have drove him insane.

Your mouth was soft, and warm, and wet, and before he knew it, he was ready to fucking explode.

As if you were familiar with his expressions, you picked up the pace and started sucking even harder each time you bobbed your head. Jason felt his balls tighten, the heat spreading to his toes and making them tingle.

“Fuck- I’m gonna- I’m gonna-” he rasped.

And then he released with sudden explosion into your mouth, going through a sensory overdrive because as he was releasing, he could still feel you sucking him dry and swallowing.

When he was done, you released his cock with a pop and a grin.

Jason had to catch his breath for a while, because it was the best head he had ever received in his entire life, and he had managed to keep his hands off you the entire time.

“You made me jealous on purpose,” he panted.

“Duh,” you stood up after politely zipping him back up, putting your hands on your waist so fucking proudly, like a power stance.

“Where the hell did you learn how to suck cock that good?” he interrogated.

“You’ve lived in Titans Tower before,” you winked, “You should know.”

He didn’t like that. He didn’t like that statement and implication one bit.

“This can’t,” he started, “We can’t-”

“This can’t happen again?” you finished for him, rolling your eyes. “Typical. Just get over yourself already, Jason. It gets tiring.”

“I’m no good for you,” he avoided your eyes.

“You say that right after coming into my mouth,” you scoffed, “Sure.”

He clenched his jaw. You were right. He was trash for doing that to you, defiling you like that.

Jason must have let his emotions leak, because you suddenly added, “What I meant was, we’ve already crossed that line. We don’t have to go back to how it was before. I like you, Jason. And I know you like me, too.”

“That doesn’t matter,” he muttered, “This was a mistake. We can’t do this again. I’m sorry. Just stay away from me.”

He left.

***

He had avoided you for a long time after that.

Months went by, and he ignored your texts and your calls. Even the knockings outside his door. He had made sure to upgrade his security, with both Tim and Roy’s help so you couldn’t break in again.

When he went on patrols with everyone else, he made sure you couldn’t catch him alone, so he arrived at the very latest, and left at the very soonest, never exchanging more than a few words with you.

And every time, it killed him. He saw the hurt flash in your eyes every time he left quickly, he noticed that you had texted him less and less as the months went on, and eventually came to a complete stop.

You had even stopped calling him those weird, creative swear names that he loved so much.

Jason finally won. He had managed to get you to give up on him.

But hell did it make him feel like absolute shit.

Eight months had passed by, and he was getting ready for the event he had absolutely been dreading. It was your 18th birthday party that Bruce had used as an excuse to host a charity gala at the manor.

Jason thought it was a dick move for him to take advantage of your birthday for the sake of his own gain, but apparently you had been more than supportive over it, understanding Bruce’s position as one of Gotham’s elite.

He didn’t want to go. He couldn’t bear to face you again where you could pull him somewhere private to talk to him. But Dick and Tim had convinced him.

It was your birthday after all.

When he arrived, everyone was staring at him.

Well, he was wearing just a leather jacket over a black shirt and a pair of dark denim jeans after all.

“You couldn’t have dressed for the occasion, Jason?” he heard Tim approach him from behind.

Tim was sporting a suit, just like everyone else.

“Couldn’t be bothered,” he shrugged, “What’s the agenda?”

“Mingling, dinner, speeches, more mingling,” Tim listed down, “Typical charity ball. The others are at the tents. We should get going.”

“I’m the dead son, remember?” he pointed out, “I don’t need to sit with you guys.”

“We’ll introduce you as Dick’s boyfriend or something, come on,” Tim gestured.

“Oh, the media would love that,” Jason muttered under his breath and went along.

The banquet area was set outside in the backyard of the Manor, where tents with clear plastic canopies were propped up, decorated with fairy lights. Since it was spring, the weather was cool enough for suits and warm enough for strapless dresses.

The main tent had a stage where a band was playing classical music- typical tunes you would hear at any other fucking gala.

Each table seated ten, and Tim had brought Jason to a table closest to the stage where he saw Dick, Bruce, and you were already seated with four others. He recognized the Mayor, the Commissioner, Lucius Fox, and a middle aged woman with greying hair he didn’t recognize with who Jason presumed was her husband.

Jason avoided looking at you, but he knew that you were staring right at him. Tim took a seat, and Jason cursed softly when he realised that the only other seat available was in between you and Dick.

Looking straight ahead, he calmly sat down. From the corner of his eye and from a portion of what he could make out, he saw that you were wearing a midnight blue dress, and a silver bracelet around your wrist which you rested on the table.

Bruce had started to converse with the guests, and Dick and Tim were having a banter amongst themselves.

“Hey,” he heard your voice.

“Happy birthday,” he mumbled.

“Thanks,” you replied.

And that was that. The two of you remained silent, with Jason occasionally checking his phone and still avoiding looking at you.

“It’s time for our speech,” Jason heard Bruce whisper to you.

He heard you get up and shuffled to the stage. He was hardly paying attention during Bruce’s welcome speech.

“...and then, the woman of the hour, my lovely daughter,” Bruce introduced you. The audience broke out in applause. Jason still hadn’t turned your way.

“Hello, everyone,” he heard your uncharacteristically nervous and shy voice over the sound system. He took a sip of wine. “T-thank coming for you all- uh- I mean-”

The audience laughed, but not in mockery. Jason couldn’t help but look at you now.

He accidentally inhaled his wine, and ended up trying to cover his coughing fits.

Up on stage, where the spotlight was on you, he had noticed your midnight blue dress had small sparkling stars on them, making you seem like you were wearing the clear night sky. Your hair was done in a simple graceful updo, which exposed your neck that he noticed was flushed, a blush creeping up to your cheeks at your own embarrassment.

Your eyes were wide in panic, and you kept on playing with your thumbs subconsciously.

His breath stuttered, because he thought you were the most beautiful creature he had ever laid his eyes on.

You were usually so snarky, so full of confidence, and wit with a mouth that could make a sailor blush- but there you were spluttering all over the microphone, a blushing mess. And hell, did that make Jason’s chest tighten in yearning for you.

“I’m sorry, I’m not used to crowds like my father is,” you tried to laugh it off, “Here, let’s try again.”

Despite your fumbles, you had a certain charm on stage that made everyone just like you.

“Thank you all for coming to my eighteenth birthday party,” you started, “I must admit, at first I wanted my party to be small and intimate. But I realised that this celebration could be used for something good instead.”

Another round of claps.

“I come from a very… humbling area in Gotham. I’m sure we’re all familiar with Crime Alley,” you stated, confidence growing as you got used to being on stage, “It was hard, living as a child in the streets. But I got lucky. Bruce Wayne found me.”

“Being the daughter of Bruce Wayne has taught me a lot about understanding and acknowledging my own privilege and using it to help others. Growing up there, myself and many other children were faced with the harsh reality of poverty and abandonment. Therefore, I would like to announce that I have started a foundation called Wayne’s Foundation for Children of Hope, where all proceeds will go to the development of Crime Alley.”

You paused and smiled at the flashing cameras of the media and waited for the applause to die down.

“Our first initiative is to build a home for lost children aged eighteen and under, to provide shelter, basic healthcare, food, and education. The primary goal of these shelters is to help kids find a place where they belong, and to help set them back on the right track. These kids also have the option to maintain anonymity for cases that involve abusive environments.”

Jason was looking at you in awe. You were standing proudly at the podium, graceful in your posture, a fierce intensity in your eyes- all previous nervousness completely gone.

Next to him, Dick leaned in and whispered, “It was all her idea, you know. Every single plan for this foundation, even the future plans she hadn’t mentioned. All hers.”

Jason remained silent and watched as you continued your speech.

“But the truth is,” you smiled sadly, “It’s still not enough. The situation in a lot of areas in Gotham is painfully swept under the rug. But hopefully with this, people like us can make things a little better for them. If you’d like to donate to the foundation, it would mean a lot to me, and to the other kids who had to grow up too fast.”

You made eye contact with Jason at that last statement, causing his heart to suddenly drum faster.

The crowd broke in a loud applause and you thanked them graciously, waving as you stepped down from the podium to take your seat.

This time, Jason didn’t take his eyes off you.

“That was great!” Tim gave you a thumbs up, “You did great!”

“Well done,” Dick grinned.

Jason took your hand and gave it a little squeeze, just smiling at you in silence. You looked at him with obvious shock, and then grinned back.

“Beautiful, Ms. Wayne,” the Mayor sitting across from you beamed, “You’ve taken after your father’s charms.”

“Thank you, Mr. Mayor,” you nodded, “But I’d like to think that my charms are my own.”

Jason had to bite back a laugh when he saw the man turn red.

He was somehow more relaxed now, even sparing occasional glances at you as you conversed with others. The dance floor was now open, and the guests had left their seats to mingle with others. The MC also announced that the bar was open.

“That’s my cue,” Jason winked at you, and then went straight to the bar to get himself something strong. From there, he just leaned back and watched how the disgustingly rich people made themselves feel better about themselves by donating the occasional couple of million dollars. Soon enough, he got sick of the pearls and diamond earrings, the solid gold watches.

He checked his own battered and scratched Swiss Army watch he had lifted from a drug lord many years ago. He should be going back soon. It wasn’t like he was needed there anyway. He had already wished you and made peace.

“What do you think?” he heard your voice approach him.

He turned and saw you come up next to him.

“Too fancy for my taste,” he started, “Looks like it took you a whole hour just to get into the damn thing. And those shoes? Looks like the crowbar was less painful than walking around in that.”

It took you a couple of seconds before realising that he was talking about your outfit.

“I meant the foundation, you fucknugget,” you hissed.

“Be careful there, sweetheart,” he raised an eyebrow, “Don’t want these people hearing you speak like that. You’ll lose your charm.”

“I don’t know how Bruce does it,” you shook your head, “It’s so exhausting.”

Jason hummed back at you as a comfortable silence fell. The two of you leaning back against the bar and just watching the crowd.

“I think it’s a great idea,” he finally said.

“Thanks,” you pursed your lips, “I kept on thinking of you, you know? When we were coming up with the plans. Was wondering what you would think of it.”

“You’re making it sound like I’m the only one from there.”

“Well, you’re the only one who would understand,” you explained, “The others, of course they empathized. But they wouldn’t understand. Not like how you and I do.”

And Jason realised that it was that factor that probably drew you close to him when you first came to them, the fact that Jason understood at more than just a superficial level how shit your life was before coming to the manor. It was a painful past that only the two of you shared, and only the two of you could talk about.

Silence fell again.

“I’m sorry,” you suddenly brought up.

“For what?” he frowned.

“For making you uncomfortable for so long,” you whispered, “I don’t know why I did it. I guess I liked your reactions. And I guess I just wanted your attention. And during that pool party- I- I thought-”

Jason waited for you to finish your sentence.

“Nevermind,” you looked away, “Forget it. I just wanted to say sorry. I crossed the line. After you stopped talking to me, I just. I don’t want that. So I’ll stop, okay? You don’t have to avoid me anymore.”

He turned around to face you.

“I stopped talking to you not because I was mad at you,” he told you, “I stopped talking to you because I was mad at myself.”

You faced him with curious eyes.

“I thought- well- fuck,” it was Jason’s turn to splutter. He took a deep breath and started again. “I thought that it was a real shit move for me to do what I did to you.”

“Wait, what?” you questioned, “What you did to me?”

“Yeah,” he grumbled, “You know. That.”

“Jason, I was the one who practically jumped you,” you scoffed, “I basically forced it on you. Why are you blaming yourself?”

“Force me? Pfftsh, you couldn’t force me to do anything.”

“Jason.”

“I liked it, okay?” he threw his arms up, “I didn’t stop you because I liked it, and I shouldn’t have liked it. I was taking advantage of you. It was wrong of me to do so.”

“God, you’re so fucking stupid,” you laughed, “I’ve been pining over you since Bruce told me you were… You know who.”

You lowered your voice.

“Want to talk inside?” he offered.

“Good idea,” you agreed.

The two of you made your way past the garden and into the manor.

“Is it okay for the birthday girl to disappear from her own party?” he smirked when he closed the door to Bruce’s study, which was the nearest room that offered privacy.

“Oh, please,” you waved your hand and sat on Bruce’s desk, “The whole party was never about me. I’m just another excuse for those cuntflaps to show off their new diamonds.”

He chuckled. “Anyway, you were saying? Something about Bruce telling me I was Red Hood?”

“Yeah,” you bit your lip in nervousness, “I’ve had a crush on you since then.”

“Really?”

Jason knew that you obviously had a crush on him, especially because of the neverending teasing and seductions, but he didn’t know it stemmed from that long ago.

“Yeah,” you nodded, “I remember thinking to myself, like wow. This is the guy who killed them. And you know what? You looked exactly like how I thought you would.”

“What? How so?”

“Huge,” you started, “Scars everywhere. Grouchy as hell.”

“I’m not as grouchy as Bruce,” he defended himself.

“Still,” you chuckled, “You looked exactly like how I imagined my hero to look.”

“Super hot, sexy, and good looking?” he joked.

He had expected you to roll your eyes and throw an insult at him, but you just tightened your lips and looked away.

“Look, k- sweetheart,” he stopped himself from calling you a kid. From what he saw on the stage earlier, you were already so much better than he was. “I’m going to be honest, alright? And you better damn well appreciate it, because I’m never honest.”

You giggled softly. He walked to stand in front of you at the desk.

“I think you’re great,” he stated, “And I think you’re beautiful, and sexy. And…”

He hesitated, thinking of whether or not to continue.

Fuck it. He might as well.

“And I like you,” he forced out, “More than you know. Fuck, I like you. I like you so much it fucking hurts sometimes.”

You looked up at him with hopeful, glistening eyes.

“But I’m no good for you,” he repeated what he said all those months ago, “I can never do what you just did. Start a fucking charity on your birthday and announce it to the world as if it was nothing. Fuck, I don’t think I should even be seen walking around next to you when you look like that. I’m a fucking mess, sweetie. You don’t want that.”

He saw as you digest what he had just said. Then, you looked up at him and asked, “What do you think I want?”

“What do I think?” he repeated.

You nodded.

“I think you should be with someone who’s closer to your age, for one,” he rolled his eyes, “And someone who doesn’t have scars all over their face. Someone who isn’t grouchy. Someone charming who can stand next to you on stage wearing a proper suit and tie.”

“You’re right,” you nodded, “I should be with someone like that.”

Jason felt a pang in his chest at your agreement.

“But I don’t want to be with someone like that,” you continued, “I want to be with someone who was ready to hunt down and hurt the people who terrorized me for years. I want to be with someone whose face is littered with scars as proof that they went through just as much shit as I did and survived.”

You hopped from the desk and stood up straight, stretching your hand up to cup Jason’s face. He leaned into the warmth of your caress, his breath hitching at the close contact. His hands automatically went to rest on your waist, still respectfully high.

“I want you, Jason,” you whispered, pulling him down to your lips, “I want someone who can handle my bites.”

To demonstrate, you sucked in his lower lip, eliciting a low moan from him.

And then you bit down hard.

He gasped at the stinging pain, and then sighed when you massaged his lip with yours. Heat suddenly spread throughout his body, particularly at his member which was growing hard fast. He could smell the wine on your breath that you must have snuck a few sips from, the vanilla lotion you always wore, and a new particularly enticing perfume that you must have gotten for the occasion.

“I want someone who can call me a little bitch straight to my face,” Jason felt you grin against his lips.

The two of you were kissing now, harsh and forceful, as if deprived of touch. Fuck, he loved how you were nipping at his lips and his tongue, tugging his hair lightly.

Both of you gasped for air, and just stood there foreheads against each other, his erection pressed against your stomach, your hands around his neck.

“I want someone who is resourceful enough to enhance his home security to make sure I don’t break in and fuck myself with his weapons again,” you chuckled.

“Was it…” he started, “Was it loaded?”

“You bet it was,” you smiled.

“Fuck,” he swore and then crashed his lips against yours again. He lifted you up to sit on the desk, and then stood in between your open thighs. At the slightly elevated level, he could properly grind his erection against your pussy, still covered by your dress.

“You liked that?” you giggled, “I thought you weren’t into that. I got a bit worried.”

“Hell yeah, I liked that,” he rasped, “What kind of sane man wouldn’t?”

He started to nibble on the skin on your neck, sucking and biting and licking

“I’m pretty sure not everyone is into the thought of fucking a loaded gun into a pussy,” you laughed, “Which proves my point. You and me? We’re perfect, Jay- fuck, don’t leave any marks, dumbass.”

“Point taken, baby.”

“Mmm, call me that again,” you moaned.

He stopped nibbling on your neck, brought his eyes to yours, and with a defiant smirk, he said, “No.”

It was like Jason saw the switch in you flick on, because you suddenly pushed him away aggressively. He stumbled, not expecting it.

“Oh, you think you’re in control, Todd?” you purred, twisting your fists in his leather jacket. You were shorter than him, and your frame much smaller. But Jason just loved the authority that radiated from you.

“You think you’re the one who has power over me?” you drawled, pulling him to the side where Bruce had set up a leather sofa and a coffee table.

“When all this while, I’m the one who had you wrapped around my finger?” you snarled, and then pushed him down on the sofa.

Before Jason could even register what was happening, you were already on top of him, straddling him. He looked up at you, the pressure of your weight on his crotch making him pant with want.

“So are you going to call me baby again?” you asked sweetly, tugging at his jacket to remove it.

“Maybe in due time,” he gasped when you bit the flesh that connected his neck and shoulder hard.

Fuck, he was throbbing in his pants.

You took off his shirt and ran your hand down his body. Jason smirked when he saw you bite your lip as you took in his figure.

He still had a bit of fight left in him, and he wasn’t going to beg.

Yet.

“Why must you be so stubborn, Todd?” you breathed, teeth catching at his earlobe and biting. You were rocking your hips against his erection, and he swore that if you didn’t take it out, he was going to rip a hole in his pants with it.

“H-hey, you’ve always been the pushy one,” he stuttered.

“That’s because I like to get what I want,” you pinched his nipples hard.

“Fuck!” he yelped at the sudden pain, and then glared at you as you just grinned cheekily. “I don’t know why I never took you for a sadist before this.”

“Because you’re an idiot, Jay,” you teased, “All I did was torture you.”

“Yes, you did,” he rested his hands on your hips, motioning for you to grind on him harder, “You made me so fucking hard on purpose, and then I had to go back and jerk off to you, which made it worse because I felt so fucking guilty after.”

“That was your own fault,” you frowned. You were finally, finally unbuckling his belt. “You saw me as a kid when I wasn’t.”

“You were still underaged, you brat,” he laughed, “It didn’t matter if you were wise beyond your years- ah, fuck yeah.”

You had finally unzipped him, releasing him from the constraints of his denim.

“Take everything off for me, Jay,” you demanded, sitting up on your knees to give him room to do so.

He listened to you happily, glad to be rid of his clothes. His cock slapped against his lower abdomen, already leaking so much precum.

“Why am I the only one naked?” he voiced out his displeasure.

“Because it took me twenty minutes to get into this dress, and I’m not undressing for anyone before the night is over,” you announced.

“But, baby,” he pouted, rejoicing at how he made your breath hitch, and rested his chin between your breasts, “I want to see your tits.”

You frowned and bit your lip as you looked down at him, considering his plea. He made a mental reminder that you must like dirty talk.

“Then make sure you don’t go home so early tonight,” you managed to choke out.

Jason thought that you also must have liked to be the submissive one, as well.

You leaned into him and kissed him again, this time less rough. He moaned into your mouth, slipping his tongue in as he grabbed your hips and tried to rub his cock against your pussy, underneath your dress. He gasped when he felt that you were already bare, and leaking.

“What happened to your- your panties?” he rasped.

“Long gone,” you winked.

“Fuck, you fucking nymph,” he chuckled, and then groaned when you started to slide the head of his cock between your wet lips.

“Jason, I’ve wanted your cock so bad,” you muttered into his ear as you rubbed your slick all over his length, “You’ve no idea how many times I’ve fucked myself with- with whatever I could find, pretending it was you.”

“Fuck, baby,” he whined, throwing his head back against the couch. Your dirty mouth was doing so many things to him, he was worried that he was going to come right there and then.

“After that time I sucked you off?” you continued, “All I wanted was to choke on it, Jay. I just want your dick in my throat.”

You lifted your hips and sank down onto him. Both of you groaned lowly in pleasure. Fuck, you were so tight, and warm, and wet, and oh so soft.

“Ah! Jason!” you cried out when he bottomed out, “Fuck, I’m going to feel you for fucking days.”

“Shit, baby,” he choked, “Baby, please. Please, move.”

“You want me to move?” you teased.

“Yes,” he whispered.

“How would you like me to move, Jay?” you smiled.

“Any- I don’t care-”

“Nice, and slow like this?” you lifted your hips up, and Jason could feel the torturously slow drag of your walls against his shaft, even as you sanked back down you were slow.

“Hnng- fuck-” Jason mewled, lost for words. “Please.”

It was all he could say.

“Or hard and fast like this?” you slammed your hips down, and started bouncing on his cock at a brutal pace that knocked his breath out.

“Fuck!” he yelled, “Fuck, baby, fuck!”

You weren’t being any softer as well. Through tear-filled hazy eyes, Jason saw your eyes fluttered close in pleasure, your mouth falling open as you cried out wanton moans, and gasped, and groaned for him.

“Jason! Fuck, Jay, fuck!”

He couldn’t take it anymore.

He gripped your hips hard, and then started to fuck himself up into you, matching your pace, making you fucking scream.

He could feel your walls tighten around his cock, the same time you started whining, “Jason, Jason, I’m gonna- I’m gonna-”

“Me too, sweetheart, me too,” he gasped.

“Come inside me, Jason, please!” you sobbed.

“But-”

“Just- just- please, please, please,” you squeezed your eyes shut and threw your head back.

Jason felt your pussy clench tight onto him, triggering his own orgasm. He released inside you while still fucking you hard, trying to prolong both of your highs.

Soon, he was oversensitive, the feeling of your walls almost painful. You calmed down, still panting above him, and he just couldn’t help but stare at you in amazement.

“Holy shit,” you giggled above him, “Holy shit, that was the best sex I’ve ever had.”

“Uh- I,” he panicked, “I came inside of you, fuck!”

“I’m on the pill, don’t worry,” you smiled, “Fuck, I just. I just wanted to walk around after this with my panties soaked in your cum.”

“How the fuck are you eighteen and already so fucking kinky,” he groaned.

You only laughed and slowly lifted yourself off of him. He hissed at the movement, feeling hypersensitive at every touch.

You went to look for your panties, which Jason noticed were a lacy black, and then put them on under your dress.

He was still sprawled out on the sofa naked, sweaty, and well spent.

“I also didn’t want any of your spunk to get on my dress,” you told him.

“S’pretty dress,” he mumbled back to you.

“You should get dressed, Jay,” you walked towards him, hands on your hips.

“Do I need to get back out there?” he complained, “Can’t I just wait in your room?”

“If you get dressed and attend the party, I’ll let you fuck me with one of your guns,” you promised.

“Really?” his eyes widen, and then he jumped back up to put on his clothes.

“I gotta tell you something, though,” you started.

“What is it?” he hummed, tucking his black shirt into his jeans.

“The safety was on,” you said, “On the gun, I mean. It was loaded, but the safety was on.”

“Oh, baby,” he looked at you seriously, “If you told me the safety was off, I would have shot you myself for being so stupid.”

You giggled.

He gave you his arm. “Shall we?”

“Yes, we shall,” you took it. “By the way.”

“What?”

“Are you going to switch back to a more lax security?”

“And have you breaking in again? You wish, kid.”

352 notes · View notes

whltlock · 2 years

Text

CHAPTER SIXTEEN / MASTERLIST / Subscribe on AO3

Pairing: Jason Todd/Non-binary!Reader

Summary: You make a pact with Jason.

Word Count: 8,361.

You placed a hand where his cheek should be, wishing you could feel the texture of his skin instead. “I need one more thing.”

He groaned into your leg. “You’re gonna bleed me dry.”

You let out a huff. “Just answer me, alright? Did you miss me?”

He snorted as he remembered his rooftop dramatics. “Ask Roy.”

You would later—whatever that meant—but, “No. You have to say it.”

“Missed you as much as you missed me,” he offered.

“Zilch?”

His nose twitched. “A fraction more than that, yeah.”

You harrumphed. He absentmindedly drew circles where his palm sat atop your ankle. The glove felt rough against your skin.

His chin jutted in your direction, brazenness abound. “Why else would I come crawling back?”

Your heart leapt against your rib cage like you had just completed a ten-K run. You simply stared at him as you tried to ward off a stroke amidst all these confusing feelings.

He couldn’t stay away.

He couldn’t stay away from you.

Morning came too fast. Pitiful hostility funnelled in as soon as streaky sunlight bombarded your vision. There was no escape from the situation since you didn’t have work. You threw your head against the pillows with a pissed off growl. So what if you were having a child-like tantrum?

With another strangled noise, you pulled yourself from your bed, deciding the next best thing to do would be to lock yourself in the bathroom. You picked out some random clothes, but paused as you spotted Jason’s hoodie. In silent protest, you tossed it onto the floor.

The shower burned hotter than your hatred, draining you of it briefly. You felt more Zen as you stared at your reflection. You’d scorched some colour into your cheeks. Your eyes dropped, down your neck, to your chest. The scalding water had irritated the scarcely-healed wound there. You prodded at it but flinched as it stung to the touch. You shook your head, telling yourself to stop it. You slapped some moisturiser on top and pulled on a very not-red jumper.

Your sour mood returned as soon as your feet left the cool tile. Roy was swift to navigate into your path. His arms slung across the door frame to create an impenetrable barricade. You let out a loud huff.

“Good morning, sunshine.” His voice sounded so light and unconcerned. You looked up at him through narrowed eyes, scrutinising how best to push past. He let his body lean in the same direction you glanced.

“Can you rot elsewhere?” you seethed, although it was barely posed as a question.

Roy’s head tilted as he hummed, amused. “I forgot how much of a morning person you are.” You clucked your tongue. He then uttered a phrase that filled you with dread: “I need to tell you something.”

Your eyes darted to him. “What?”

“Jason’s still here.”

Panic was quickly replaced with your prior sentiment. “Of course he is,” you groaned.

Roy sighed. “Look, you don’t have to talk to him, okay? But he’s my friend, so can you play nice, please?”

You crossed your arms. Had Roy blacked out about what you’d told him last night?

“He must have magic hands,” you said patently.

“What?” He blinked, and the second he understood, his arm wrung your neck for the gross comment. “You’ve got a potty mouth.”

You tried to shrug him off. “Why else would you defend him?” you argued.

“Na-uh,” he crowed, pulling you tighter to his chest with a burgeoning smile. “You’ve been the one in his bed.” Your face felt hot at once, and his grin only grew with your embarrassed silence. His next words were spoken against your temple, “So, maybe you should be telling me about them magic hands, huh?”

You scoffed weakly. “It wasn't like that.”

“What was it like, then?” Roy asked, and this time he sounded genuinely curious. He allowed you to break free of his grasp as he rested against the doorframe. He peered at you as he waited.

Heat rippled over your skin in blazoned waves. “We were... friends.” You swallowed, struggling to voice the word. “Until he decided otherwise.”

His tone was serious as he said, “He’ll make it right.”

“Maybe I’m all out of second chances.”

He wore a smile that said he knew that stupid fuck had wriggled under your skin. You looked away, unnerved.

“One more thing.”

Exasperated, you heaved, “What now?”

Roy shifted, posture straightening as he stared at you intently. “You can trust me, okay? No more hiding things. All my secrets are yours from now on.”

Your face creased. “I don’t need to know everything.”

“Nah,” he shook his head. “You’re gonna know it all.” He stuck his fist out and his smallest finger waggled.

You had to laugh, smacking his hand away. “Really? A pinky promise?”

He grabbed your hand. “Hell yeah, baby. Harper promise; ten-year warranty, guaranteed.”

You tried to keep your face neutral, really, but the sight of Jason in your kitchen made you scowl. Roy nudged you as he went past, slipping into a seat behind the counter. You tried to compose yourself as you joined him.

“Jaybird, you shouldn’t have,” Roy said cheerily, reaching over to pluck from the stack of toasted bread.

Jason snatched the plate from his reach. “Not for you.”

“Oh?” Roy mused, tipping backwards in the chair. Burly arms crossed over his chest as he sported a smug smile. “Who’s it for, then?”

There was a lacklustre silence as the two men stared each other down. You couldn’t tell, but Jason’s eyes dashed to you and back.

He deflated, tossing the bread at Roy with a surly, “Fine.”

You eyed Jason’s hands—still gloved—as he made more toast. It was odd to realise he’d been making you breakfast. Like the good old days, you wanted to scoff.

Formulaically, he slathered one piece in Nutella. It was when he reached for another jar that you intervened. “I don’t like Marmite anymore,” you said, maintaining your aloof façade.

His hands hovered over it, measuring your words. Slowly, the helmet lifted. “What do you want instead?”

To your annoyance, he didn’t sound bothered.

“Peanut butter.”

There was another beat before he said, “No.”

“Yes.”

“No. You don’t like peanut butter,” Jason asserted.

You frowned. Shit.

Roy rolled his eyes. He happily munched on his plain, buttered bread without your argumentative natures colliding. “It’s jam now,” he said out of spite.

You set your glare on Roy, nostrils flaring. He looked back in challenge.

“Boysenberry,” he supplied obnoxiously, crumbs falling from his mouth.

Jason checked your reaction to confirm it was true before he reached for the purple jar.

He slid the plate across the counter to you once he was done. You glanced down at the toast. After a moment, you picked it up and spun around on the chair so the two could watch your back while you ate in peace.

Roy let out an exhausted noise. “Two peas in a fuckin’ pod.”

The afternoon view from the apartment was in no competition to the one at night, but Jason had to admit it was decent all the same. In between all the sprawling buildings he’d catch glimpses of the Wayne Conservatory. People watching was easy from the window sill where he perched.

All you would find outside his safehouse’s window was disrepair and litter. Not a single soul lurked unless it was for nefarious purposes. No wonder you preferred it here.

Jason glanced at you for the millionth time that hour. Raven had gifted you a handmade card deck. Each card was adorned with a drawing of a villain or antihero that had plagued Gotham at one point or another. The gold details glinted in the light each time you moved them. He was impressed with her artistic efforts.

However, whenever you revealed the Arkham Knight, he flinched. Guilt stirred in the shallow depths of his stomach. He had to question why Raven had included it—as some kind of message? Still, she’d somehow made him look beautiful in all of his depravity.

He much preferred the other characters: the three Doctors—Harley, Pamela, and Abby, along with Swamp Thing, Riddler, Kid Flash, and Catwoman. There was one of Raven herself, which made him shake his head with an amused smile. She’d even added Arsenal, which had left Roy haughtily pleased.

You’d told Roy that she’d offered to draw a card of yourself if you ever wanted. You’d tried to hide your smile after that, not over-indulging in the vision of you as a powerful vigilante.

Afterwards, you’d glared at Jason when he offered to join you in a round of something.

You resorted to playing a memory game with yourself. You shuffled the cards and lined them up in rows, then overturned them to find pairs. He had watched you miss by a single card too many times when he blurted out, “It’s the next one.”

Your hand hovered over the card you wanted to flip. Your eyes drifted sideways to find him, narrowed in ire and suspicion. He shrugged off his anal-retentiveness and looked out the window. He heard your frustrated noise a few seconds later.

“How can you even see from there?”

He glanced back at you. Your eyebrows were pinched as you stared at the correctly matched pair.

“Believe it or not, I have eyes.”

The comment made you glower. You grumbled a mimicry of his words but continued to play nonetheless.

He caught your next mistake. He couldn’t help himself. “Wrong.”

Your eyes flashed dangerously. “You’re wrong,” you snapped.

His chin tilted in defiance. “Flip it over then.”

You did as he said. The pair didn’t match. Angrily, you turned the one beside it. His choice had been correct.

You didn’t want to ruin the striking cards, but a quiet rage flared inside of you. You pulled yourself away before you accidentally destroyed them. Your fists balled up as you tried to restrain yourself. “Why don’t you go back to whatever sewer you crawled out of?” The venomous words spilled from your throat, tasting like metallic shards on the way out.

He remembered the green, oozing pit; the water thick with whatever magical properties it had been infused with. It washed away the dirt and blood under his nails. It had stung when it penetrated every cut, as well as felt disgusting as it seeped into his marrow and bones, reminding him that his life force had been snatched once before. That maybe even resurrected, it wasn’t his to claim.

It had bestowed him with renewal, then gifted him with the shrieking madness of life.

Jason clicked his tongue, head lolling. “Tried that. No refunds or returns on damaged goods.”

You bit back a huff of deranged laughter at his self-deprecation. It was more sad than funny, but the redirection was necessary. You felt the curls and flurries of anger diminish. You channelled steadier breathing.

Your fingers traced the card you were most curious about. A green-caped humanoid rested beside the Knight. He appeared in a ghostly, cosmic veil. You’d never heard his name mentioned before. You swallowed your pride for the sake of answers. “Who’s the Spectre?”

Jason stared at you for a long minute, recalling the barebones information he had on that name. Characters like him were in Raven’s ballpark, not his, so he hadn’t deigned to know much more than the basics.

“Inter-dimensional being,” Jason said. “Thinks he’s a God. Better to run the other way if you cross paths.”

You snorted. “Good to know.”

You ignored Red—or were you supposed to call him Jason now?—as you carried your clothes basket to the laundry. He’d peeked out from the kitchen when your soft footfalls entered the hallway. You pretended you couldn’t feel his eyes or when he physically began to follow you.

It had been three days since he’d shown up, and he’d spent the entire time annoying the shit out of you. If this was his way of making it up to you—like Roy had said he would—it was a haphazard attempt.

In your periphery, you saw him lean one shoulder against the doorframe while eerily silent. His arms folded as his gaze remained on you. He must’ve been planning his next bout of nuisance. You acted nonchalant as you tossed your garments into the washing machine.

Unfortunately, his handler wasn’t available today. Roy had needed to go into work, leaving you two alone in the suddenly all-too-small apartment. The only distance you could put between you and him was your bedroom. You were starting to think he might try to annoy you in there, too, if he got bored and brave enough.

In the next moment, Jason snatched an item from the basket. You were ready to shred him apart but faltered when you heard his scrambled speech: “I’ve been looking for this.”

You stilled, a cold awareness filling your veins as you saw the dash of crimson. You tried to breathe through the humiliation that you knew was coming.

“It was on Roy’s floor,” you told him, barely sparing him a glance. You distracted your twitchy hands by continuing to empty the basket.

He snorted. “Yeah? Is that right?”

Icily, you simply answered with, “Yup.”

You placed the basket on the floor. Turning to Jason, you attempted to pluck the jumper from his grasp. However, as soon as you had your hands fisted in the material, he yanked it to his body, causing you to stumble into him. Your indignant words died on your tongue when you were met with his broad chest. You jerked your head back before it could slam into the chin of his helmet.

Jason beat you to airing his thoughts. “Pretty sure you were wearing it last. So, how’d it end up on Roy’s floor, sweetheart?” You thought he crooned the words.

One hand dropped from the jumper to rub at your eye and brow. You’d grown weary of the implication that you’d been tossed between two men. In a deflated breath, you told him, “Maybe someone would want to leave it on your floor if you were nicer.”

He let go of the jumper, allowing you to dump it into the machine. Jason shifted on his feet. “Uh, I didn’t mean to—sorry—” he cut himself off. “I know nothing’s happened.”

“And what if it had?” you looked at him, forehead furrowed petulantly.

“Well, I was here,” he pointed out. The tension bled from his shoulders as he heard the lack of usual bite from you. “Besides, Roy’s with Donna.”

You gave a noncommittal hum, moving to pour detergent into the washing machine. You closed the lid with a pop. The silent friction between you two was broken with the cute chime of a start cycle.

You grabbed the basket on your way out of the room, passing by him as you went. He still stared at you as if in anticipation.

You halted your steps when you practically felt Jason breath down your neck. You whirled around, brows raised expectantly. “What?”

“You don’t, right?”

You almost didn’t understand with how soft spoken it was. You also wanted to pull your hair out because of his penchant for vagueness. “Don’t what, Red?”

He didn’t answer for a beat, riling you up further. Then, he gave you a stiff, one-word reply: “Roy.”

Understanding dawned. You stared at him, expressionless, but couldn’t help the fiendish smile that gradually stretched across your face. His fists clenched as if he’d handed you something he really hadn’t meant to. It only made you smile bigger.

At its full width, you spun on your heel and continued to walk away.

“Wait, hey—” Jason stammered. He pronounced your name like it was a question, wanting a real answer. He limped after you to catch up. He called your name, louder this time.

When you faced him again, it was with that same damned smirk.

“You know,” you started, nose wrinkled as if you’d caught a whiff of something bad, “maybe you should consider doing some laundry. When was the last time you changed?”

You gave him one last smug look, brows tilted towards your forehead before you disappeared into your room. Jason stepped after you, but he caught the tail end of your hair and a door to the face.

He let his head drop against the wood with a thud. His curse escaped in a low hiss, hands pressed against his helmet, “Fuck me with a chainsaw.”

You strolled into the kitchen with more of a pep in your step than usual. You were determined to enjoy your day, especially after having taken some of the power back from Jason. The anxious burden you carried felt less weighty under your newly acquired knowledge.

You weren’t entirely sure if it was a case of jealousy or overzealous concern on his part, but you’d take what you were given. If he stepped out of line, you could tease him back into place.

But as your eyes swept the apartment, you found it lacking said person’s presence.

Roy looked up from his phone to greet you. “Hey, you.”

“Good morning.” You smiled at the mess that he didn’t bother to wipe from his mouth. “Where’s...” Your tongue tied over whether you should—or even could—use Jason’s name. You decided to play it safe. “Where’s our guest?”

“Dunno,” Roy met your smile with his own soft one. “Think he jumped out the window when I turned around earlier.”

You snorted. “Sounds about right.” You sighed, eying Roy’s breakfast spread pitifully. “I’m going to be late.”

In turn, he held out his arm with the piece of toast, offering you a bite. You leaned forward to chomp at it greedily. “Thanks, Roy.”

He gave a short chuckle as you dodged his attempt to ruffle your hair. You tsked at him.

“Are you going in today?” you asked, moving to fill your water bottle.

“Yeah, later on. I’m staying overnight,” he told you. “Ah...”

You waited for him to finish his sentence, but the end never came. You eyeballed him with a confused expression.

He winced, brows pulling towards his nose. “Jason might... come around.” He watched your face as he expected a negative reaction. However, you said nothing as you screwed the cap on your bottle.

“Is that okay? If not, you can come eat with us at the centre—”

You blew out air and joined him at the counter. “I’ll come visit after work since you need my free labour so bad. Maybe grab some donuts along the way.”

Roy rolled his eyes. “How benevolent.” He dusted his hands off. “And Jason...?” he asked, trying to reign in his hopefulness.

You sighed, rocking the bottle in your hands. “He better bring groceries and his best behaviour.”

Roy’s mouth twitched. “He always does.”

You huffed out a laugh at the despicable, only half-true comment.

“Another thing...” he trailed off. He grinned as you glared. He wanted to laugh because boy, you did not like surprises. “He left you something.” His chin jerked towards a bag on the end of the bench.

It caught you off guard and consequently, “What?” slipped out.

You moved so you could peek into it. The first thing you saw was a post-it note with ‘sorry’ written in his usual pretty font. You held it to the light. “Stellar apology,” you commented drily.

Roy tried not to snicker. “I told you, he’s trying.”

You hummed. As you parsed through the rest of the contents, your breath hitched.

He’d made you soup.

It was such a stupid thing to frazzle you, but you loved soup. It was in your top five foods, for sure. Jason had probably figured that out, too.

It wasn’t hard to guess, you countered.

Roy dumped his utensils in the sink, but he threw you a knowing smirk when you glanced his way. Your head ducked.

As you rummaged, you found a bakery bag at the bottom. Warmness fluttered in your chest at the familiar crinkling. Your stomach grumbled when the smell of fresh bread and a berry muffin hit your nose.

You looked up at Roy. You did your best to appear unconvinced, despite how Jason practically had you eating out of the palm of his Godforsaken hand. “I can't be bought with food.”

Roy laughed in dismissal. “You’ve proven that’s not true.”

With a huff, you snatched his gift off the counter before storming towards the door. To your dismay—and Roy’s boisterous delight—you had to stop to put on your shoes before you could actually leave.

Red’s footfalls fell into step with yours within a block of leaving the youth centre. The escort was unnecessary since you were plenty capable, but more importantly, the evening had only just skimmed into twilight. The overhead lamps flickered to life as they were switched on along the street. You watched the awful strobing dapple your skin as you walked beneath them.

You didn’t engage with Jason, intent on making it home to flop onto the couch as soon as possible. It had been a long day. You’d channelled all of your upbeat and sarcastic capabilities into entertaining the kids at the library—as well as Tia—and later on, with helping Roy. Now you just wanted to recharge, preferably with something greasy and/or over-the-top sweet. You knew Jason wouldn’t give into that request so easily, though.

Clumsily, you tripped over a crack in the path. The pavement tiles met like crushed tectonic plates, creating a noticeable—except to you—height difference. His glove was swift to wrap around your elbow and pull you upright. The small touch reminded you of the time you’d run after him, having the time of your life before he’d succumbed to a hallucination.

You cleared the thickness from your throat. It was neither a thank you nor an outright rejection. You took your arm back, but not unkindly. Instead, you kept your eyes forward, trying not to let the memory burn a hole in your brain.

“Complete silence is a new one.” He said it in an incredulous tone as his eyes passed over you. “How’s trying it on for size?”

You rounded the corner without acknowledging it. You didn’t have the energy to respond to his goading, even if he meant it playfully. He hadn’t even bought groceries, by the looks of it.

He changed tactics. “How’s Roy?”

Your brows squished together. They’d seen each other this morning. You did him the honour of showing him your befuddlement.

“Okay...” The mechanics in his helmet grinded on the dragged-out word. “Do you want to hear about my day?” he asked. He didn’t wait before continuing. “Great. Well, woke up early so I could arduously cook soup. After that, I dragged myself down to the bakery, and then...—”

The rant sounded so odd behind its guise, but you listened more attentively than you’d planned to. An involuntary smile twitched at your lips. “‘Arduously?’” you echoed, sparing him a look of disbelief. He seemed to misinterpret it as not understanding the English word.

“Oh, right. Sorry. Worked hard on it,” he explained.

“It’s soup.”

“So?” he said, offended. “I put effort into it.”

“It’s soup,” you repeated. “You cut things up and let it simmer.”

Jason scoffed at you. “You’re an ungrateful brat, you know that?”

You smothered your smile with the edge of your sleeve. “So?”

He let out a strangled squawk. “‘So?’ Here I am telling you about my day and you have the gall to write me off like that.” He couldn’t keep up with his betrayed cadence; it dissolved into a snicker he tried to brush off.

You circled back into his path, forcing him to freeze. He stopped just short of a hair’s breadth from you, the toes of your boots knocking against each other. Your eyes tracked a slow path from his chest to his face. With a thoughtful noise, you mused, “I think you like it.”

“Like hell,” he said. “You’ve ruined my day.”

“Mhm,” you murmured, not breaking eye contact. “Why’d you laugh, then?”

He faltered. “I’d never.”

You gave him a thin-lipped smile. “Whatever you say, Red.” You decided it was more comfortable to call him that, as opposed to his actual name. It didn’t feel like you’d been given the privilege, even if he used yours.

Realising his blunder, Jason stepped forward. His chest plate bumped into you; a move that would have knocked you back easily if he’d put more force into it. “I didn’t,” he insisted.

Your hand reached out, covering the short distance to his body. Somewhere near his abdomen, you tugged at the jumper that peeked from under his leather jacket. You played with the fabric, fingers twisted into it. It brought him closer.

You heard how his breath quickened at the action; his pecs moved up and down, noticeable in the lack of distance. His Adam’s apple bobbed from beneath the collar of his black shirt. You let yourself admire the view momentarily.

Your eyes flicked upwards to meet his. The seconds dragged on.

You broke the trance with, “How do you sleep at night, being such a liar and all?”

He grabbed your wrist with a snort. “Like a baby.”

You harrumphed and tried to break free, but he didn’t let go. Gracelessly, he stepped after you.

“We’re not doing this again,” you groaned, wriggling against him.

“But we had such fun last time.”

You glared at him. “You call me a brat.”

He lifted his shoulders in feigned nonchalance.

Your chin tilted upwards defiantly. “Either hold my hand or let go.”

Jason seemed to choke at that and his grip went loose despite not entirely disappearing. You took the opportunity to link your thumbs together as pay back. It wasn’t the most comfortable position, but it was what he deserved, you reasoned.

Jason regained his voice with a shake of his head. “Ultimatums are petty.”

Disinterested, you swung your hands between you. There was a long, somewhat awkward hush as you both stood there, neither willing to give in.

You glanced at him when it began to bother you. “Did you really not know about the stuff with Dick?”

He shifted on his feet. “No. I don’t keep tabs on him like that. Roy only mentioned he had problems with Donna.” He sighed as he looked at your connected hands. “Should’ve known Dick was a part of the mess. Sticks his mitts in everything.”

The way his fingers squeezed yours, unconsciously or not, made you swallow. “Is that the truth?”

“It is.”

You stared at the ground, contemplating the sincerity of his words.

Eventually, you asked, “Why didn’t you bring your bike?”

He shrugged, not having a good reason.

“I don’t want to walk. Give me a piggyback.”

For the first time since appearing by your side, he remembered that you were in public. His eyes swept over your surroundings nervously. “Someone could see,” he said, voice quiet.

Curiously, it wasn’t a straight-out no.

Your childish behaviour was only slightly annoying to him. The other half... it was a little endearing, if he was honest. It was cute to watch your tiredness transform into something clingier.

“Do it, or else,” you threatened.

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll put a spike up your ass.”

Jason had to laugh. “That’s a good one.”

You nodded in affirmation to yourself. “I know.”

His knuckles brushed past where his jaw would be, thinking it over. “Alright,” he said finally. He crouched low enough for you to climb on. You smiled widely when you realised he was serious.

You wrapped your arms around his neck as he lifted you up. His gloves pressed into your thighs, securing you in place. It was kind of crazy, you knew, but were too tired to be worried tonight. If he wronged you, you could always follow through with your warning.

You eyed his helmet. It would be so easy to pluck it from him. With a knock against the metal, you said, “It’d be less weird if you took this off, you know.”

The arms gathered around you stiffened, but as he stood tall, he said nothing. You sighed, letting your nose drop to the back of his neck. The helmet was colder than your own skin. You felt his muscles ripple beneath you as he readjusted his hold.

“You’re so thick,” you mumbled through a yawn. A light chuckle reverberated through his chest at that. Despite your smile, a heavy thought hung over you:

If Red—Jason—was going to stick around, to provoke you or flirt or whatever the hell this was, you were going to have to have an actual, heart-to-heart conversation.

You were pretty sure that having teeth pulled in a back-alley—with a fake dentist and no anaesthesia—would be more fun.

You two compromised when it came to meal time: if you ate something healthy for dinner, he would make you a stupidly sweet dessert.

Reluctantly, you’d agreed, mostly due to your intrigue of what else he had up his sleeve, baking-wise.

Somewhere between then and now you’d fallen into a light sleep. Head tilted back, your arms were slung wildly across the couch. Slow breaths filtered past your parted lips. You could feel yourself slipping into the dream realm. Only the pottering of someone nearby kept you connected to the Gotham scape.

You were glad you were jolted fully awake when Jason plopped down at your feet. Your eyes scrunched as it took a few moments to adjust to the lit-up apartment. You squinted as you checked on the scene in front of you.

A charcoal-coloured pan sat in Jason’s lap. Steam wafted off it. You straightened at the glorious sight of a hot dessert. You couldn’t help but salivate as the smell of freshly-baked cookies overwhelmed your senses.

He’d outdone himself, you had to admit. The pan was giant: far too indulgent a serve for one person, although you were willing to try. It was gooey in the centre, topped with a scoop of ice cream and drizzled in sauce. Jason had added sliced strawberries and crumbled Oreos. You weren’t sure where he scavenged them from.

“Huh.” Your voice was raspy from your nap. You crawled onto your knees so you could inspect the dish. Your looked up at him, then back to the mesmerising cookie.

You eagerly reached out to claim it as your own, however, a glove immediately smushed into your cheek, shooing you away. You made an indignant noise as you tried to get past.

“Excuse you,” Jason scoffed, holding the pan above your head. You aimlessly fought him, grabby hands outstretched.

The glove slipped from your face, affording you a sliver of freedom, but your next attempt was blocked with a light smack.

“Give it to me,” you grumped.

“Sit down,” Jason ordered.

Ever so petulant, you said, “Get out of my house.”

He huffed. “For fuck’s sake, d’you wanna get burned? Sit down and I’ll give it to you.”

You felt stupid, not having realised he’d brought the pan over with a tea towel propped underneath. His gloves must have protected him from the heat. With a long whine, you fell into the cushions.

Jason let out an exasperated noise when he realised you weren’t going to sit properly. Nonetheless, he pushed the dish onto your chest.

“Spoon,” you said, and on second thought, added, “Please.” You stuck out a hand.

“You’re gonna choke if you eat like that,” he said. Perhaps unbothered by the idea, he passed one over.

“You can resuscitate me,” you said, paying him no mind. You were more focused on the melting ice cream.

He snorted. That one might come down to a coin toss, really.

The sourness on your face dissipated as soon as you stuck a spoonful of that deliciousness in your gob. You let out a pleased hum.

“Good?” Jason asked with an amused lilt. You looked at him and begrudgingly nodded. “You gonna quit with the temper tantrum now?”

His words ignited your delinquent tendencies. Staring him straight in the eye, you used the spoon as a slingshot and catapulted a sloppy part of the cookie directly at his helmet. It hit its target with a plip. You watched it slide down the metal slowly—cinematically, even. A satisfied smirk blossomed.

He fixed you with a murderous glare, hidden eyes baring down on you like it would make you vanish. And then, unexpectedly, he yanked the loose end of your pants to use as a napkin. You slipped with the movement, slapping yourself in the face with the utensil.

Your mouth popped open. “Bi-tch,” you pronounced the insult in two syllables. Fingers scratched at the stickiness on your nose. Even though you couldn’t see him, you were sure he wore a proud look with the way his chin lifted.

“Play stupid games, win stupid prizes, sweetheart,” he crooned. Your breath hitched at the combination of the pet name and how his fingers tightened around your ankle.

You pressed your lips together and glanced elsewhere.

It was like he couldn’t live with the stain as he sighed to himself. “Sorry. I’ll clean it.”

He dropped your leg as he stood. You kept your eyes focused on the blank television screen. In its reflection, you saw his mirrored movements. Water dripped from the tap even after he screwed it tight.

Jason was gone thirty seconds, tops. You noticed his helmet was wiped clean when you looked at him again. You moved upright, placing the cookie dish on the coffee table.

When Jason sat down, he tugged your dirty pant leg in between his knees. He wordlessly scrubbed at the mess until it was gone. Every gentle touch was reminiscent of when he’d wiped your bloody wound.

A million speeding thoughts raced through your brain as you watched him work. Your veins singed, little fireflies tormenting you within. Gnawing on the inside of your cheek, you were reminded of how you needed to fulfill your self-promise.

Jason’s attention skirted upwards as he recognised the sudden change. “What?” He sounded as apprehensive as you felt.

You gave him a moment to finish up before you inhaled. You scooted closer, letting your socked toes press into the inside of his thigh. “We have to...” You tried to steady your words. “We need to talk. Seriously.”

‘Seriously?’ That was a convincing use of language, you reprimanded yourself.

He toyed with the bottom hem of your pants, head low. “Oh.” And as if he didn’t know, he asked, “Uh. What about?”

“Are you staying?”

“I can leave if you want,” he told you earnestly.

“That’s not...” You ground your forehead into your knee out of frustration. Was he being dense on purpose? “Are you doing this to be cruel?”

His head jerked. “Why would I do that?”

“You tell me!” Your voice rose. “You said you didn’t care about me and wanted me out of your life. But now you won’t leave.” It was like he derived pleasure from sticking around and annoying the shit out of you. In the meantime, you were left in limbo with scraps of a companionship.

You did your best to cool down.

His eyes levelled on you, the muscles in his throat working overtime. He was starting to feel claustrophobic with the way your legs trapped him in place. “I know I can’t undo what I did.”

“That’s not enough, Red. Why are you here?”

“I... I’m sorry,” he breathed out, shallow and lame. “I regret how I treated you, alright? But I don’t know what else to do.”

Confusion pinched at your features. “If you're making amends, then... you need to talk, I think.”

His hands fell from their perch. “Is that...” He swallowed, simultaneously avoiding your eyes while also trying to read your body language. “Is that what you want?”

“It’s a start?” you said unsurely.

There was a long pause before he spoke again.

“I don’t like that you care about me,” he spat, and false heat flared in his mechanical tone. “I hate it, because you seem to think I’m worth getting yourself killed over.”

You scoffed at the one-eighty turn he’d taken. “Well, you sure as hell need someone to care about you, since you won’t do it.”

Jason’s line of sight dropped to his fingers, curled like claws in his lap. Was it that obvious that he danced the tight rope between an unfathomable future and a death wish?

No reply divined Jason, oddly offput by your ability to un-mask a man without touching him.

“You made your choice, let me make mine.”

A harsh noise escaped the back of his throat. “No. I won’t let you make the wrong one.”

“Have you ever considered that it’s dangerous knowing me?”

He heard the frustration seep into your tone, cutting into him obtrusively.

Had he? No, not really—he hadn’t given the idea a second thought beyond you having the ability to lead someone to his location. Because they wanted him, not you. It would’ve made for a good argument if he wasn’t a stubborn jackass.

He was struck by his own self-absorption. “You never talk about it,” Jason tried to reason lowly.

“We’re going in circles.” You rubbed your hands along your clothes in a self-soothing manner. “The point is—”

“Why?” he croaked, voice breaking. “Why am I worth it to you?”

Well, if he was already being selfish, what was a little more? The pile hadn’t crumbled under its weight yet, and he was far from risk-averse.

“Because—get it through your thick fucking skull—we’re friends!”

Jason sagged into himself. “What does that mean?”

“It means—we have an understanding. It means I accept your brooding and laugh at your shitty puns.”

“They’re not shitty,” he mumbled.

You let your head lay against the couch’s headrest. You focused on the criss-cross sensation as you recollected your thoughts. “Why did you come back to me?” The question was came out meek; you were both curious and afraid to hear the answer.

His helmet turned towards you. “I... I can't help it. It’s... things are—they’re easier with you.” His voice dissolved into a bitter laugh. “You don’t know my past.”

“You’re not making this easy.” You chewed the inside of your cheek. He knew all the right words to make a show-stopping speech; he also knew how to twist it to his own disservice. “Make it easy for me, Red,” you finally implored.

He was reminded of Roy’s rant about love—that he needed to stop being so hard-headed to make any kind of progress in his life. Guess it could be applied here, he almost laughed in bemusement.

Jason let his head rest the same way you had. He stared at the ceiling, processing his feelings. Just maybe, he wanted it to apply here.

It was a stressful thought.

You two sat in silence for a few minutes. Eventually, your eyes drifted from his to the blank TV screen. Your fingers wrung your wrist as you replayed the last ten minutes. Surely you were destined to lose against this ego-maniac who refused to enjoy his own existence.

His palms lifted to the front of his helmet, shielding himself from you.

“Are you staying or not?” you exclaimed, set off by the movement, “because if you are, you can’t do that anymore. You don’t get to come and go as you please.” Your heaved words tapered off into upset, shallow breaths. “You have to stay for good.”

He couldn’t stand the tension. The way you pulled at his heartstrings. Another God damn ultimatum. But he deserved it, he knew that. No one wanted someone that was only present for half their fucking life. He was surprised Roy let him return, week after week.

His hands dropped from his face. “Alright.”

Your neck practically snapped. “What?”

“Okay. I’ll stay.”

You blinked.

“I won’t leave you, if you don’t leave me.”

Your lips formed around words that hadn’t yet been thought of. “That’s... that’s a big commitment,” you said, at a loss.

He grew more confident now, having stumped you. “You’re not up for it?”

You shook your head, not in disagreement. You chose your phrasing carefully. “It just shows our issues.”

Jason shrugged. “There’s plenty more where that came from.”

Your laugh was short.

The room fell silent.

He shifted. The nervousness in his voice was obvious as he asked, “That enough for you?”

You nodded slowly under the heavy implication. “For now.”

“That’s good,” he swallowed. His helmet dropped against your knee. “Always been happy with whatever you give me,” he muffled into cloth as flames rippled across his skin at the confession.

A coy smile pulled at your mouth once you comprehended what he’d said. He tried to hide from it, curling his bicep around your calves, wanting to sink into your skin.

You placed a hand where his cheek should be, wishing you could feel the texture of his skin instead. “I need one more thing.”

He groaned into your leg. “You’re gonna bleed me dry.”

You let out a huff. “Just answer me, alright?”

“These violent delights.”

You rolled your eyes. “Do you have to say that?”

“It’s who I am.” But still, he peeked at you, awaiting your next line of interrogation.

“Did you miss me?”

He snorted as he remembered his rooftop dramatics. “Ask Roy.”

You would later—whatever that meant—but, “No. You have to say it.”

“Missed you as much as you missed me,” he offered.

“Zilch?”

His nose twitched. “A fraction more than that, yeah.”

You harrumphed. He absentmindedly drew circles where his palm sat atop your ankle. The glove felt rough against your skin.

His chin jutted in your direction, brazenness abound. “Why else would I come crawling back?”

Your heart leapt against your rib cage like you had just completed a ten-K run. You simply stared at him as you tried to ward off a stroke amidst all these confusing feelings.

He couldn’t stay away. He couldn’t stay away from you.

Floundering, you chose to focus on a previous concern. “You looked half-dead when I last saw you.”

“Yeah. Definitely passed out,” he snorted, as if it was a funny memory instead of a tragic one. That made you frown. “I’m tip-top now. Stitching yourself up is a bitch though.”

You poked his helmet, unconvinced and holding onto residual guilt. “Are you sure?”

He let out a sombre chuckle. “Yeah. I heal quick.”

Through squinted eyes, you said suspiciously, “I thought you were human.”

“I am,” he insisted. “With a little extra on top.”

What kind of riddle was that? One that was meant to rile you up, clearly. Muttering to yourself, you decided to save it for later.

You crossed your arms, feigning disinterest. “I found a movie you’ll like. It has aliens.”

His head tilted. You heard the smile in his voice, “Oh, for me? You shouldn’t have, sweetheart.”

“Just give me the remote so I can find it, you sack of mush.”

Nonetheless, he obliged, passing it with an amused hum. You both settled into a mutual calm as you allowed A Quiet Place to play.

__________

When Roy came home early the next morning, he was only mildly surprised to find you two on the couch, squashed together. Jason’s helmet lolled on the head rest, while you’d aimed the other way, legs in his lap.

“Yo, bucket head. You up?” Roy called on his way past. He resisted the urge to rap a knuckle against the metal encasing.

He blew a raspberry when no reply came. “Well, alright-y then. Dorks.”

__________

That mild surprise turned into being flummoxed with a capital F within days, if not hours. It was not a word Roy would not have ever thought he would use in his life time, but there he was, standing in the kitchen entrance, baffled.

You and Jason were chatty rather than catty now. Still, Roy thought he recognised a shyness in your exchanges, although he didn’t have any real rapport to compare it to.

At the very least, his friends were beginning to get along. Hopefully they could repair what had broken between them. He eyed Jason’s helmet with some doubt. That thing would likely have to come off before things could be entirely fixed.

Roy did his best to hold his breathe on that front—pushing Jason into revealing his identity was a big step. If he was rushed, he’d just run away. All this anxious and brooding energy would be for naught. He already avoided eye contact with Roy whenever you were around. He guessed that Jason didn’t want the reminder of what a bizarre situation he was in.

Roy watched with keen eyes as his friend tried to instruct you on how to use a chef’s knife properly. He mimicked the action, attempting to take over as he did so. You promptly threatened to chop off his fingers, to which he produced his own knife, clanging it against yours.

It was such a silly fight, but it made his mouth curl upwards.

The blaze in your eyes barely left, even when you threatened to, “—Do it while you sleep.”

Jason scoffed. “Don’t bring a knife to a gun fight.”

Your eyes turned to slits at the warning. Roy wanted to smack Jason upside the head, knowing damn well the stupid kid slept with a gun under his pillow most nights. When he made it to bed, that was.

Jason seemed to realise their bickering had not gone unnoticed then. His eyes flicked to Roy as the knife in his grasp faltered. He looked away, tabling it and straightening the wooden chopping board and all of its components. The banal fidgeting made you look too.

“Hi, Roy,” you greeted in an unbothered tone. You slowly lowered the knife that had been poised with ill intent.

“Roy,” Jason said with a nod.

The redhead kept the easy smile on his face as he came closer. “What’s all this?” he asked as his way of finally acknowledging his lurking presence.

“Making a feast for later,” Jason told him, at the same time, you said, “Having the world’s worst cooking class.”

“Huh,” Roy said, “and here I was thinking you were about to kill each other.”

You rolled your eyes. “I would lay down some newspaper first, Roy. This kitchen’s nice.”

“Good to know,” he replied.

“Plastic’s better.”

Both of you looked at Jason upon hearing his outlandish comment. Your face screwed at the mental image, while Roy’s eyebrow raised perfectly. What had possessed him to say that? Roy wondered out of bemusement.

At the silence, Jason shrugged rigidly. “Jus’ saying.”

“Thanks for the tip, Hannibal Lector,” you said with a shake of your head. You went back to dicing carrots.

“You coming out tonight, Jay?” Roy queried, palms pressed into the counter. His body rocked forward with the motion.

He nodded with a muffled, “Yeah.”

“You got something for us? Or you flying solo?”

There was a pause between the three of them. Roy saw how the question put Jason on edge; his helmet tilted towards you in consideration. How much did he want to say around you?

You stared back at him, stiffness in the line of your shoulders. A debate hung in the space between you—a tug of war with power dynamics. Roy sighed at your combined stubbornness and dumbass-ery.

“I’ll—”

“Go with him,” you interrupted, a hardness to your voice. If he looked a little closer, he’d find it was actually concern.

“I’m fine,” Jason said under his breath. You scoffed in disbelief.

Roy shrugged. “Your sweets has spoken, Jaybird.”

You raised the knife in his direction. “Pardon?”

The blood drained from Jason’s face as he heard the jab. Obviously, he’d been foolish enough to use the nickname within Roy’s earshot. His chin dropped as he willed the bright redness to release him from his unending prison of humiliation.

His skin crawled uncomfortably. Jason, in warning, coughed out, “Roy.”

“Don’t point that thing at me. I’m doing you a solid!” Roy bickered. He frivolously batted the knife away from his body, but you remained steady enough.

Jason’s glove wound around your wrist, trying to force your hand. You steeled against him for a moment before allowing him to push it down.

“You’re proving his point,” you said in a low tone, not looking at either of them.

Jason rubbed at his helmet with a grumble to himself. He would argue, to his second death, that he had proven nothing of the sort.

He glanced at Roy. “Yeah, I got a case, alright? I’ll show you later. Just let me finish in here.”

“I can finish just fine,” you butted in obnoxiously.

Jason snorted. “No, you can’t. You don’t listen.”

You crossed your arms. “You’re a bad teacher.”

“What’s the next step then?” Jason baited. You tried to remember, but all you came up with was an irritated huff. He smirked, satisfied.

Roy laughed. “Careful, man. They might reconsider the plastic idea.”

You nodded seriously. “I’m mentally writing a shopping list as we speak.”

“Alright.” Jason let the tools in his hands clatter lightly upon the countertop. You tensed at the sudden action, but relaxed when he didn’t make another move. Jason jerked his head towards Roy; a signal that meant he’d meet him in his room with said grand plans. Roy nodded in return, taking the hint.

He watched Roy leave, moving to follow after him. However, on his way past, Jason’s thumb and forefinger latched onto your chin. He grazed the skin in a playfully firm manner. It shouldn’t have felt like much of anything at all, but in that moment, the small touch was like sunlight carried by the breeze on a warm spring day. It left you wide-eyed.

“At least wait to dispose of me until after dinner,” he breathed, a soft smile hidden beneath the mask. His thumb dragged along your jawline before he let it drop. It was quickly replaced with tingling on either side of your cheeks, right where bone met neck, as if you’d eaten a sour lolly. You swallowed dumbly.

Jason tried to continue onwards but you grabbed a hold of his wrist. “Ja—” You cut yourself off. “I don’t know how to finish it.”

He shrugged, posture ever impassive. “Wrote down the recipe.” Jason tossed his thumb towards a notepad by the stove. When had he done that?

It hurt when your heart pounded against your rib cage once more, eyes trained on his departing back. Only seconds ago, he’d been pestering you, albeit in jest, but then he’d gone and done that. A tender action caught between the rift of sensual and downright diabolical.

Roy would’ve seen if he’d turned around. Almost unwillingly, you drew the conclusion that it was another of the cocky stunts he liked to pull.

A/N: love that their relationship is 2 parts annoying the shit out of each other to 1 part flirting!!!

am i on the path to forgiveness? 😚

something long awaited happens next week. hehe.

_____

Tags: @crumpets-are-better-with-jam, @caswinchester2000, @missxfeels, @thequietchildren, @midnxghtblue, @plantedcats, @darkness-falls-xo

if i've seen you binging the series, you made my list lol

#jason todd #jason todd x you #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #red hood #tchogc*

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