run from the sunlight, dracula!

Being stranded on the side of the highway in Gotham city in the middle of the night could be one of the worst scenarios anyone could possibly imagine, a million different things that could happen but you didn’t really have a choice. Your beloved car, one that restored from literally barebones, broke down on you, engine sputtering and dying on you, thankfully you were able to pull off to the side of the highway before it gave out completely.

You called someone you knew, a mechanic that helped you through the restoration but she wouldn’t be here for an half hour at least, and you couldn’t leave your baby here by herself, in this city? Goodness not! So here you were, waiting beside here patiently as the street lap above you flickered every few minutes, watching as cars pass by, hoping your friend will pop out of one of them.

Then a bike slowed down, enough to just pass by, pulling in right in front of your car. You almost think you’ve gone crazy, the way the leather jacket stretched over the man’s back, helmet a dark enough red that it looked black until he steps into the light, it too much like him.

“I have a gun.” You warn as he turns to face you. Black shirt under the jacket as he holds his hands up defensively, taking a few more steps to stand right under the light, slowly moving his hands to grab his helmet, there’s a click of a advance mechanism that you’re all too familiar with and then, the light graces his face.

Jason’s aged, not much but, of course, it’s been far too many years since you’d seen him. And if not for his unique white hair strip, the scars the dig deep into his cheek are far too recognisable, the ‘J’ accompanied by newer shallower ones he’d accumulated in his time away from you.

He watches you back as you profile him, your face, your posture, the way you carried yourself has changed. Life had obviously had taken its toll on you, you’d matured in the way your face was set, a blossom of pride in his chest as you follow what he’d thought you years ago, with the gun and it’s probably the same one he gave you.

“Just me, sweetheart.”

Jason’s voice goes down like a glass of whiskey, deep and smooth but burns all too close to your heart. He tilts his head to the side, gauging your reaction, mistaking your surprise for caution. You avert your eyes, looking back at your car, hand moving off the gun to smooth down a nonexistent wrinkle on your jacket.

You nod, one quick dip of your chin, allowing him to come closer to you, gentleman as always. You watch as he walks back a moment to drop his helmet back onto the bike as you survey your surroundings again, looking for watchful eyes or jittery bodies.

It’s been a long time, a little longer than half a decade, even in a city as small as Gotham, it was easy not running into him, especially when he avoided you religiously. Sometimes, when you felt a conspiracist, you could swear you saw a certain vigilante with a taste for the color red in your proximity, following you like a guardian angel in the night.

The time you had with Jason was phenomenal, the best of the best. No matter how broken he was, or you were, the two of you worked. Even when secrets came out, you were with him, a stubborn stick in the ground that didn’t budge in the toughest storm, you stayed with him. But his mind got to him, when the dangers got too apparent, when he realised the way his identity could hurt the one good thing in his life, he broke things off, no matter how you tried to make him understand.

After that, the city went back to being its same glum self. The streets were back to feeling grim and lifeless, bookstores lacked luster that he brought. He’ll always be the one that got away, the one you thought you’d spend the rest of your life with.

He avoided you with all his might, did everything not to associate himself with you. But he always lingered. Flowers that appeared out of thin air on days he knew were too tough for you. Gifts on every birthday that sit on the windowsill as a constant reminder, special edition of your favourite books being shipped from an ‘anonymous’ benefactor.

“Why are you standing here? It’s not safe.”

His voice snaps you out of your head, your eyes flying back to him who’s walking to you in slow steps, like he’s trying not to spook you. It’s not long before he’s standing in front of you, unintentionally imposing presence that made your chest tight with emotion.

“Not leaving my car by herself.” You whisper finally, Head craning up to look at him. The light was hitting him in a way that deepened his scars, but his eyes twinkled all that same, just the way they used to years ago “Stubborn as always.” He mutters under his breath as he shakes his head in disapproval. He looks down at your car, the one you’re standing guard for, jutting his chin in its direction. “What’s wrong?”

“The coolant system broke, it’s leaking.”

You cross your arms around your chest like it’ll shield you from the extended heartbreak you’re going to experience from this interaction. You watch as you walks past you, close enough that his jacket brushes yours, and to your car. He moves quickly, popping the hood of your car, leaning down to look into the contents of your engine.

You watch his shoulder move as he works, the jacket spreading across his back does nothing to hide the muscular frame underneath. He’d finally grown into his body, moving with more grace than you remember. It somehow felt like he was taller, or maybe your mind was exaggerating your vision, biceps and thighs definitely larger than you remember, consistent with what you’d expect for Red Hood.

You watch as Jason comes to the same conclusion, just nodding his head in agreement.

“Someone I know is coming to help me out.” You call out to break the silence, the sound of a vehicle crashing somewhere in the distance echos as he looks back at you. You watch as he, not so subtly, glances down at both your hands, obviously noting the lack of a wedding ring. Which is odd, since he probably already knows that you aren’t in a relationship, haven’t been in a solid once since him.

“Take my bike back home, I’ll wait here for him.”

You scoff, loudly and dramatically. If there was one thing about Jason, it’s that no one gets to touch that bike of his. It’s tuned to his exact specs, something he doesn’t think anyone else is capable of driving. But now, after all these years of avoiding you, breaking your heart, he’s offering for you to drive off in his bike?

“Her.” You correct. “And why aren’t you…” You pause for a moment to conjure the right word. The moon gleaming weakly through the dark clouds above is a sign that the vigilantes are going to come crawling out of their caves, literally. So why wasn’t Red Hood out terrorising bad guys. “Working?”

“I was riding down to Bludhaven to help Dick with something.” His reply is smooth, ever patient as he straightens up, closing the hood of your car but still lingering around it, mimicking your stance as he crosses his arms too, looking like a stand off to any bystander.“Convenient.” You comment.

There’s a deep sigh in your chest at the subsequent silence. What exactly are you two supposed to talk about? “Fuck it.” You mutter as you uncross your hands and dive into your jacket pocket, pulling out a cigarette packet and…shit. The only lighter you have is the one you got as a couples set when the two of you were still together, you thought it was an amazing gift, two lighters that match up when next to each other to depict both sides of wings engraved on them.

You make a split second decision to pull it out anyway, not missing the slight change in Jason’s posture, the way his eyes widen slightly, shoulders getting just a tab bit more rigid. Your finger runs over your name engraved on its bottom before you flip it open, bringing it to your mouth to light to cigarette nested between your lips.

Jason was a smoker, had been for a long time, and years ago, you weren’t. You had just thought that the lighters was a nice thing to have even though you didn’t smoke. But after the break up, you found one of Jason’s packs lying around your place and you had an itch, you lit one, maybe to feel closer to him somehow, but it soon became a proper habit, like for most people in Gotham.

“Those things will kill you.” Jason quips up, something you used to tease him with. you hold the cigarette between your pointer and middle finger, pulling it away to blow smoke into the night sky. Your eyebrows scrunch involuntarily, the words leaving your mouth before you can think twice about them. “So does flinging yourself at villains.”

“It did.” Jason jokes as the tip of his lips twitches, his eyes cast down to the pavement, expression as something you couldn’t quite decipher. He looks back up to watch utter horror pass on your features, a soft gasp when you realise what you said. “Shit—I didn’t meant to.” You say too quickly, genuinely apologetic.

“‘S alright.” Jason shakes his head softly, he knows you’d never make light of his previous death, something it too a long time for him to open up to you about. You open your mouth to apologise again, but he dismisses it with another shake of his head.

The same silence from before settles again, now you can’t even look him in the eyes. You’re smoking the same brand that he used to, the same one he had to change out of because it reminded him of you too much. His half of the lighter pair sits comfortably in the drawer next to his bed, something he doesn’t carry around for the risk of losing or damaging it, something he takes out to reminisce, give him a moment to relive how it was before he fucked it all up.

“How’s…Artemis?”

You utter out impulsively, regretting it immediately. Artemis was Jason’s ex, before the two of you dated, and there were always rumours that Red Hood had gotten with her again over the years. However ‘healed’ you were, you never could resist looking up the tabloids. And for fucks sake, why on earth are you asking him that?

The question catches him off guard too, you were never insecure in your relationship all those years ago and you knew Artemis was just a friend, a coworker, whatever label you want to slap on it, but just that. After you…he could never even consider someone else. It takes him a moment to get his gears, side of his lips now threatening to stretch into a smirk.

“Just be direct, c’mon. Ask me if I’m single.” Jason clocks his head to one side, a twinkle lit behind his eyes.

Just as you were about to roll your eyes, a familiar car approaching steals your attention as you wave to your friend. Jason watches as you walk past him as the car pulls up right behind yours, a smile stretching across your face in greeting that he didn’t get. Jason turns, slow steps back to his bike, just hoping you’d stop him…ask him to…stay?

“Who’s that?” Your friend asks as she gets out of her car, eyeing the man she’s never seen before as he walks back to his bike. You look back at him, watching his figure receding into the darkness, not looking back. You take another drag of the cigarette, blowing out the smoke and taking a moment to soak in the interaction before you answer.

“Someone I used to know.”

ᯓ★'s P.S. notice how the first half of this is better? yeah i wrote that aaaages ago, i did my dialogue thing and forgot about this and now filled in the rest so i apologise if the flow of it is missing and its not that great

don't forget to comment and reblog if you enjoyed!

← ゛masterlist ⸝⸝.ᐟ⋆

Being stranded on the side of the highway in Gotham city in the middle of the night could be one of the worst scenarios anyone could possibly imagine, a million different things that could happen but you didn’t really have a choice. Your beloved car, one that restored from literally barebones, broke down on you, engine sputtering and dying on you, thankfully you were able to pull off to the side of the highway before it gave out completely.

You called someone you knew, a mechanic that helped you through the restoration but she wouldn’t be here for an half hour at least, and you couldn’t leave your baby here by herself, in this city? Goodness not! So here you were, waiting beside here patiently as the street lap above you flickered every few minutes, watching as cars pass by, hoping your friend will pop out of one of them.

Then a bike slowed down, enough to just pass by, pulling in right in front of your car. You almost think you’ve gone crazy, the way the leather jacket stretched over the man’s back, helmet a dark enough red that it looked black until he steps into the light, it too much like him.

“I have a gun.” You warn as he turns to face you. Black shirt under the jacket as he holds his hands up defensively, taking a few more steps to stand right under the light, slowly moving his hands to grab his helmet, there’s a click of a advance mechanism that you’re all too familiar with and then, the light graces his face.

Jason’s aged, not much but, of course, it’s been far too many years since you’d seen him. And if not for his unique white hair strip, the scars the dig deep into his cheek are far too recognisable, the ‘J’ accompanied by newer shallower ones he’d accumulated in his time away from you.

He watches you back as you profile him, your face, your posture, the way you carried yourself has changed. Life had obviously had taken its toll on you, you’d matured in the way your face was set, a blossom of pride in his chest as you follow what he’d thought you years ago, with the gun and it’s probably the same one he gave you.

“Just me, sweetheart.”

Jason’s voice goes down like a glass of whiskey, deep and smooth but burns all too close to your heart. He tilts his head to the side, gauging your reaction, mistaking your surprise for caution. You avert your eyes, looking back at your car, hand moving off the gun to smooth down a nonexistent wrinkle on your jacket.

You nod, one quick dip of your chin, allowing him to come closer to you, gentleman as always. You watch as he walks back a moment to drop his helmet back onto the bike as you survey your surroundings again, looking for watchful eyes or jittery bodies.

It’s been a long time, a little longer than half a decade, even in a city as small as Gotham, it was easy not running into him, especially when he avoided you religiously. Sometimes, when you felt a conspiracist, you could swear you saw a certain vigilante with a taste for the color red in your proximity, following you like a guardian angel in the night.

The time you had with Jason was phenomenal, the best of the best. No matter how broken he was, or you were, the two of you worked. Even when secrets came out, you were with him, a stubborn stick in the ground that didn’t budge in the toughest storm, you stayed with him. But his mind got to him, when the dangers got too apparent, when he realised the way his identity could hurt the one good thing in his life, he broke things off, no matter how you tried to make him understand.

After that, the city went back to being its same glum self. The streets were back to feeling grim and lifeless, bookstores lacked luster that he brought. He’ll always be the one that got away, the one you thought you’d spend the rest of your life with.

He avoided you with all his might, did everything not to associate himself with you. But he always lingered. Flowers that appeared out of thin air on days he knew were too tough for you. Gifts on every birthday that sit on the windowsill as a constant reminder, special edition of your favourite books being shipped from an ‘anonymous’ benefactor.

“Why are you standing here? It’s not safe.”

His voice snaps you out of your head, your eyes flying back to him who’s walking to you in slow steps, like he’s trying not to spook you. It’s not long before he’s standing in front of you, unintentionally imposing presence that made your chest tight with emotion.

“Not leaving my car by herself.” You whisper finally, Head craning up to look at him. The light was hitting him in a way that deepened his scars, but his eyes twinkled all that same, just the way they used to years ago “Stubborn as always.” He mutters under his breath as he shakes his head in disapproval. He looks down at your car, the one you’re standing guard for, jutting his chin in its direction. “What’s wrong?”

“The coolant system broke, it’s leaking.”

You cross your arms around your chest like it’ll shield you from the extended heartbreak you’re going to experience from this interaction. You watch as you walks past you, close enough that his jacket brushes yours, and to your car. He moves quickly, popping the hood of your car, leaning down to look into the contents of your engine.

You watch his shoulder move as he works, the jacket spreading across his back does nothing to hide the muscular frame underneath. He’d finally grown into his body, moving with more grace than you remember. It somehow felt like he was taller, or maybe your mind was exaggerating your vision, biceps and thighs definitely larger than you remember, consistent with what you’d expect for Red Hood.

You watch as Jason comes to the same conclusion, just nodding his head in agreement.

“Someone I know is coming to help me out.” You call out to break the silence, the sound of a vehicle crashing somewhere in the distance echos as he looks back at you. You watch as he, not so subtly, glances down at both your hands, obviously noting the lack of a wedding ring. Which is odd, since he probably already knows that you aren’t in a relationship, haven’t been in a solid once since him.

“Take my bike back home, I’ll wait here for him.”

You scoff, loudly and dramatically. If there was one thing about Jason, it’s that no one gets to touch that bike of his. It’s tuned to his exact specs, something he doesn’t think anyone else is capable of driving. But now, after all these years of avoiding you, breaking your heart, he’s offering for you to drive off in his bike?

“Her.” You correct. “And why aren’t you…” You pause for a moment to conjure the right word. The moon gleaming weakly through the dark clouds above is a sign that the vigilantes are going to come crawling out of their caves, literally. So why wasn’t Red Hood out terrorising bad guys. “Working?”

“I was riding down to Bludhaven to help Dick with something.” His reply is smooth, ever patient as he straightens up, closing the hood of your car but still lingering around it, mimicking your stance as he crosses his arms too, looking like a stand off to any bystander.“Convenient.” You comment.

There’s a deep sigh in your chest at the subsequent silence. What exactly are you two supposed to talk about? “Fuck it.” You mutter as you uncross your hands and dive into your jacket pocket, pulling out a cigarette packet and…shit. The only lighter you have is the one you got as a couples set when the two of you were still together, you thought it was an amazing gift, two lighters that match up when next to each other to depict both sides of wings engraved on them.

You make a split second decision to pull it out anyway, not missing the slight change in Jason’s posture, the way his eyes widen slightly, shoulders getting just a tab bit more rigid. Your finger runs over your name engraved on its bottom before you flip it open, bringing it to your mouth to light to cigarette nested between your lips.

Jason was a smoker, had been for a long time, and years ago, you weren’t. You had just thought that the lighters was a nice thing to have even though you didn’t smoke. But after the break up, you found one of Jason’s packs lying around your place and you had an itch, you lit one, maybe to feel closer to him somehow, but it soon became a proper habit, like for most people in Gotham.

“Those things will kill you.” Jason quips up, something you used to tease him with. you hold the cigarette between your pointer and middle finger, pulling it away to blow smoke into the night sky. Your eyebrows scrunch involuntarily, the words leaving your mouth before you can think twice about them. “So does flinging yourself at villains.”

“It did.” Jason jokes as the tip of his lips twitches, his eyes cast down to the pavement, expression as something you couldn’t quite decipher. He looks back up to watch utter horror pass on your features, a soft gasp when you realise what you said. “Shit—I didn’t meant to.” You say too quickly, genuinely apologetic.

“‘S alright.” Jason shakes his head softly, he knows you’d never make light of his previous death, something it too a long time for him to open up to you about. You open your mouth to apologise again, but he dismisses it with another shake of his head.

The same silence from before settles again, now you can’t even look him in the eyes. You’re smoking the same brand that he used to, the same one he had to change out of because it reminded him of you too much. His half of the lighter pair sits comfortably in the drawer next to his bed, something he doesn’t carry around for the risk of losing or damaging it, something he takes out to reminisce, give him a moment to relive how it was before he fucked it all up.

“How’s…Artemis?”

You utter out impulsively, regretting it immediately. Artemis was Jason’s ex, before the two of you dated, and there were always rumours that Red Hood had gotten with her again over the years. However ‘healed’ you were, you never could resist looking up the tabloids. And for fucks sake, why on earth are you asking him that?

The question catches him off guard too, you were never insecure in your relationship all those years ago and you knew Artemis was just a friend, a coworker, whatever label you want to slap on it, but just that. After you…he could never even consider someone else. It takes him a moment to get his gears, side of his lips now threatening to stretch into a smirk.

“Just be direct, c’mon. Ask me if I’m single.” Jason clocks his head to one side, a twinkle lit behind his eyes.

Just as you were about to roll your eyes, a familiar car approaching steals your attention as you wave to your friend. Jason watches as you walk past him as the car pulls up right behind yours, a smile stretching across your face in greeting that he didn’t get. Jason turns, slow steps back to his bike, just hoping you’d stop him…ask him to…stay?

“Who’s that?” Your friend asks as she gets out of her car, eyeing the man she’s never seen before as he walks back to his bike. You look back at him, watching his figure receding into the darkness, not looking back. You take another drag of the cigarette, blowing out the smoke and taking a moment to soak in the interaction before you answer.

“Someone I used to know.”

ᯓ★'s P.S. notice how the first half of this is better? yeah i wrote that aaaages ago, i did my dialogue thing and forgot about this and now filled in the rest so i apologise if the flow of it is missing and its not that great

don't forget to comment and reblog if you enjoyed!

← ゛masterlist ⸝⸝.ᐟ⋆

Few moments pass before you finally land on one, pulling out the record, placing it in the player. Your movements were robotic now, having done this almost hundreds of times. You glance at the wall on the right of you. A cork board that’s covered completely, not a spare space. Stretching from one end to the other was a timeline.

The year starting from the one you had met him, to the year you lost him. Photos covered the places between the numbers, but mostly lists. Lists of tens—bordering hundreds of names of songs, from different times when you were together that you could remember. You were moving methodically now, from year to year. Hence, more crossed out lists towards the start of the timeline.

You plop into your single couch, leaning back, getting comfortable, taking one last sip of water before you tip your head back and close your eyes. Letting out a shaky breath, the music in your ears floats into your ears as you resist the urge to hum along to it. Soon the noise shifts from a clear sound to a static one. Your skin crawls as you almost feel whiplashed, the pull through time never sat well with your body.

A few moments later, the temperature in the room had dropped. Tearing your eyes open, you’re no longer in your living room, sitting in your couch but now in Jason’s childhood bedroom, your mind adjusts to the familiarity even though you hadn’t been in the physical space for a long time. Your own sleep clothes were now swapped out for one of Jason’s t-shirts, a red tshirt that’d faded after too many washes with the wonderwoman logo splayed across the front.

His back is to you as he hums to himself, swaying his hips to the music he just put on. “Jason.” Your voice is soft, preparing yourself. When he turns around, he’s the same boy you lost. Foolish grin on his face, long curls he was stubborn to cut that you loved running your fingers through. “C’mon. Let’s da-nce, sweetheart.” He smiles as he claps to the beat.

This was back when his voice had just started to crack, slowly shifting from a childish mist to a grown rumble. “I’m a horrible dancer, you know that.” Despite your words, you hop off his bed, joining him and swaying your own hips in rhythm with his. “I know. But I’m an amazing one.” Jason replies as his eyes twinkle.

”Ah, Jason Todd, ever so humble.” Your hands snake around his neck as his hands find your waist, moving both of you to the soft music. He chuckles as he leans in, forehead to forehead. You two were the same height then so looking eye to eye was easy. “I wish we could be like this forever.”

The words slip out of your mouth. It’s not what you said when it actually happened, you had made a silly joke about his night job and the man that took him in. Now you say whatever you wanted, doesn’t matter which memory, it altered very little.

“Aw, you love me that much?”

”I love you to the moon and beyond, pretty boy.”

“Don’t call me that.” Jason says but the smile of his face betrays him. His hands slip under your shirt, his cold hands in contrast to your warm skin, just how you like it. “Well, I love you to the moon and beyond too, my girl.”

My girl.

Gosh, you absolutely loved it when he called you that. You lean down, snuggling your face into the crook of his neck. You hold him tighter, closer as a tear slips out the corner of your eye. “Hey, hey, hey. What’s wrong?” The concern in his voice is evident. You shake your head as the music slowly descends into slower beats. Until inevitably, the music ends.

You wake up the same as always, in cold sweat, a smile and tears. It was your favourite memory, the one you reached for on the worst days. That day was nothing but ordinary, school and then seeking refuge at the Manor. It was one of those memories didn’t matter much before, since you had so many like it, you were supposed to have more.

You were supposed to have more time with him, more memories of silly dancing to random music. You were supposed to see his voice crack fully as he stumbled through puberty. You were supposed to have more, more, more. But he was gone. And that’s all it is now, a memory.

Glancing at the clock, it was past 12. Officially 2 years since Jason…You shake your head. Pulling out a random record from an ‘Untested’ crate and putting it on, back onto your couch and drifting off to sleep to the music, hoping and praying that one of the songs pulls you into another memory.

That was your routine now. Almost every day since your accident. It isn’t possible to remember every song you ever played in his presence, so you do your best to find them, speed-running through thousands of songs to find one where you connected to the universe and you fell head first into a memory.

You wake up to the buzz of your phone. A text message. The sun was up before you, the light streaming through your curtains. You really ought to pull your bed into the room and stop falling asleep on the couch. The odd positions were giving you cramps all day long.

Dickie

Please tell me you didn’t fall asleep to records again.

You

It’s like you want me to lie to you.

Dickie

🙄 Bruce wants you to come for dinner tonight. Correction: you don’t have a choice You have to xx

You grumble into the void. Right. Of course. Dinner. On Jason’s Death Anniversary. Just what you wanted to do today. But like Dick said, you don’t really have a choice. After Jason’s death, you grew a familial bond with his brother, Dick. He took you in as his sister, tried his hardest to be there for you, almost trying to compensate for the fact that he wasn’t able to be there for Jason.

“Alpine?” You whistle out for your dog, and she comes running to you, hopping into the couch and licking your face. Dick was the one that gifted you this ball of sunshine. You were in a horrible place after Jason, and following your accident, it became even worse. The depression, the depleted will to live. Alpine was the light that pulled you out. She gave you the push you needed to get better.

“Okay, okay. Time for breakfast.”

You drag yourself away from the couch, prioritising Alpine’s doggy bowl before you start your own morning routine, fatigue pulling at your limbs as you move with no grace.

The significance of the day doesn’t affect you like most. You mourn that boy everyday to the capacity of your heart, an ‘anniversary’ doesn’t make something that’s at its worst, even worse. His name, the mere existence of his lingers in your mind all the time.

So you operate through the day like it were any other. Wednesdays were reserved for chores and errands. So you do them. Vacuuming, laundry, piling up dishes, trash. Then bath day for Alpine as you fight her to get her clean then dry her off. You meal prep for the coming week. You go through the motions with minimal thought, thinking would lead to overthinking, then burn out and procrastination.

It’s about 4 pm when you finally get dressed, casual winter wear, when is it not cold in this city of yours? You refill the automatic dog feeder and set dinner time for your pet before you stop by the display wall beside your front door.

You stuff cotton balls into your ears before picking off one of the 5 headphones mounted on the wall. Is this the wisest thing in a place like Gotham? Absolutely not. But it’d be even more dangerous if you heard a song connected to a memory in public and pass out.

Opening drawers of a nearby cabinet, you retrieve and tuck away a plethora of weapons into different parts of your body, making sure it’s all invisible before you leave.

Wednesdays, the only day you have off in a week. You mostly work from home but on Mondays and Saturdays you take the early train to Metropolis. Music Producer. Your dream job. You wish you could say you worked hard for it, but the ease you got it with? Mr.Wayne obviously pulled strings.

But you do your best. It took time, given your circumstances with in-person work. But by luck, you caught the ear of a big name of the industry, recognising your talent and giving you a position. Now you work with an up-and-coming artist that you’ve managed to befriend.

But today, you treat yourself. You end up in the nicer part of town, one that you and Jason talked about all the time. As you look at the streets and the cafés, the couples laughing along on dates, the dates that you never got to go on with him. You shake off the melancholy as you get a coffee, visit your favourite book store, hit up a new vinyl store and picking up new records.

You lose track of time and before you know it, the sun begins to set. You start in the direction of the Manor, crisscrossing your way through the streets. The day had been…peaceful till now. It’s been kind to you. But of course, fate would have its way.

You decide to take a short cut, an alleyway, bad idea from the get go but you really weren’t in your senses today. You didn’t even hear it at first, until you see a bottle thrown and shatter beside you. Turning around, you’re faced with a classic, almost cliche, Gotham thug, gun in hand, pointed at you. He says something but you don’t quite hear, then he gestures for you to take off the headset.

So you do. Just one ear. “Take off the whole damn thing, bitch!” He yells, unmistakable thick Gotham accent. You sigh as do so, letting the set rest around your neck. “Everything in your purse! Empty it onto the ground. Now!” You move sluggishly, you could disarm this fool any minute but you were just playing along. You take incremental steps toward the thug under the pretence of zipping open your purse. Your mind captures details as your eyes glance at him. You’re about to reach out and disarm him when—

A song from balconies of the apartment above. “You bitch! Didn’t you hear me? Do it!” But it’s of no use. It’s futile as your hands cover your ears in an effort to atleast muffle the noise but you feel your world tilted off-axis, swaying as your vision begins blacks out and you try to resist the pull through. Last thing you feel is someone landing right next to you.

When you open your eyes next, you’re no longer in the alleyway but at a Gala. Specifically, the Wayne Gala a few months before Jason died. You blink as the ballroom comes to clarity and your mind adjusts to the sharp change. Your sharp intake of breath captures his attention. “You good?”

He’s leaning on the wall, next to you, one half of wired-earphones stick in your ear, running through to connect to the other half stuck in his, the same song your heard in the alleyway now plays through the shared earphones.

You two had naturally gotten bored, in a room full of rich people and their kids, retreated to a corner like edgy teenagers. He looked handsome that day. You had forced him to get his hair cut, a three piece suit that fit him well and extenuated his frame, all prim and proper for show, for the public.

He blinks down at you as you observe him, worry slowly creeping into his face. You offer him a quick nod and he give you a look that tell you that he wasn’t convinced and you two would talk about it later.

You two had just started dating but Jason couldn’t shut up about how you pretty you looked that day, it was the first event you had ever accompanied him to so you had made sure to look your utter best, all out on your dress, makeup and hair.

Your situation in the present comes back to you. Bad guy with gun. You should pull the earbud out and return. Pull it out, stop the music. You will yourself but your body doesn’t move. Deep down you know you need to go, but you don’t want to. It wouldn’t be awful, for Jason to be the last thing you see inside of the barrel of a gun.

Jason still has his piercing eyes on you, his hand snakes into yours, holding it and intertwining your fingers. You open your mouth to tell him, to tell him how much you loved him. Just as the words are about to leave your mouth, the world in front of you abruptly shifts.

You gasp as you come back to it. Back to the alleyway. The person playing the song must’ve skipped to the next, jerking you back to reality, the first thing you notice is a different song playing. Second thing you notice is that you’re not dead. Instead of laying on the ground with a gunshot, you were sitting up against something.

Your eyesight doesn’t come back to you immediately but you can hear fighting noises, you recognise the voice of the thug but not the other. As your vision starts to clear, you see flashes of red and two blurs moving. It’s not long until you make out one of the two blurry figures running away, cheap boots hitting the pavement.

You’re still on guard as the other one walks towards you. You’re able to slide your switchblade from your sleeve into the palm of your hand and the figure kneels down in front of you. As you blink your eyes, you don’t see a face but rather…a red…Red Hood?!

“Are you okay, miss?”

Instinctively, your hand guts out, the blade masterfully ends up right in the sliver of skin below the red helmet and the collar of his shirt. Even without practice, everything you were thought hasn’t been lost on you.

“Back.” You instruct, your voice cracking.

He puts his hands up defensively, like he isn’t going to hurt you, for some reason…you have a feeling that he won’t. He straighten up, hands still up making him look almost comical.

You don’t retract the blade as you reach for the gun in your boot, making a show of clicking off the safety and pointing it at him. “Is that how you say thank you?” The robotic voice coming out of his helmet doesn’t sit right with you. You scramble with your other hand, pulling your headphones back on and the relief floods your body as the sounds of the word muffle again.

“Why did you help me?” You croak out.

He clicks his head to the side, you imagine he’s offended under the mask, like how dare you assume that? But it’s Gotham after all. “Contrary to popular belief, I don’t go around killing innocent people. Are you alright?” The almost-faux boredom in his voice isn’t lost on you, even through the voice changing helmet.

”Yes, yes. I’m okay.” Despite your words, the gun stays pointed at him as you work on bringing your breathing back to a regular speed. He gets the hint, taking a few more steps back, hands still up. “Would you like me to walk you home?”

You blink at the chivalry. Not what you expect from a murderous anti-hero/maybe villain.

”I’ll be fine.” You gesture with your gun, down and out the alleyway. He hesitates for a moment, like he’s unsure to leave you by yourself. But seems like the determined look on your face changes his mind. He takes a few steps back before he turns and begins a brisk walk. ”Red Hood!” He startles, glances back at you. “Thank you.” With a curt nod, he disappears.

After collecting yourself and standing up from the filth of the street, you switch paths and start back to your place, yearning for a bath and a new set of clothes. You don’t put away the gun, not putting much effort to hide it but the clock of the night provides sufficient cover.

The sharp ring of your own phone has you flinch ever so slightly. “Miss?” Alfred’s voice echos in your ear. “Yeah, hi. Listen, Alfred, I’m going to be late—“

“Dinner tonight is cancelled. Mr. Wayne was called away on…business.” Business, Batman business. “He has requested your presence tomorrow, for lunch.” Your shoulders droop as you sigh, and Alfred excuses himself, probably to assist his boss.

When you’re back home, you pluck out a trusted record from the ‘Tested’ crate, just some regular music to relax to and shower. You go through your shower routine, scrubbing off the grim of the day as Alpine claws at the bathroom door like you’d abandoned the dog all together, dramatic.

You get out, lathering yourself in lotion as the final song in the vinyl starts to play. ‘Tested’ records are ones you’ve listen to before, and none of the songs were linked to any memories, a.k.a, none transported you through the wormholes of time. So why, why are you starting the get dizzy as music of the last song starts filling your apartment?

Alpine is at your feet immediately, barking and trying to get you to sit down, you oblige, much too tired as the sounds shifts to static before all you see is purple and blue streaks you’re much to familiar with.

You lay down flat on the ground as the barking of your beloved dog dissolves into the sounds of a scuffle as you blink the unfamiliar scenery in front of you into view.

“What the…” You mutter to yourself, your hands coming up to rub your eyes and you recognise the song that transported you playing somewhere in the distance. You hear footsteps running away as someone crouches down in front of you. You pull your hands away from your face to see…Red Hood?!

“Are you okay, miss?”

The déjà vu of the incident that happened just a few hours ago hits you like a freight train. “What the hell?!” You yell out now, louder. This had never happened before, every single memory you were transported into, you were with Jason. So how is it now that you’ve been transported to a memory that happened a few hours ago, two years after his death. Especially with someone like the Red Hood.

“No, no, no. This is not happening!” You fumble for your switchblade like you did at the actual altercation but your panic gets the better of you. You try to take a deep breath as your chest starts close up. “Woah, woah. Breathe, miss. You’re safe now.” He doesn’t make a move to touch you, but recites the calming words. “Contrary to popular belief, I don’t go around killing innocent people.”

The robotic distorted voice still unsettles you, you scramble yet again to put your headphones back on. “The music, it’s the—“ You interrupt yourself to take a deep breath. “Do you have a PTSD thing?” Red hood asks again. “Why is this happening? I don’t—I don’t understand.” You press the headphones into your ears, willing the music to cut off.

It doesn’t make any sense. You heard a song, you were transported to the Gala, you came back, a different song, the one that’s tripped you through time now, was playing.

“Please stop, please.” Tears are starting to flood your eyes and Red Hood flinches physically like you hit him, straightening up and takes a step back, holding up his hands defensively. “Make it stop.” You croak. “Stop the music?” Red Hood asks, causing you to nod vigorously.

You hear your name, a robotic voice, Red Hood says your name. He begins to say something else too but the barks of your dog starts to materialise itself and the scene in front of you and your ceiling comes back into view.

A sob tears out of your lungs. The shock by itself breaks you down, piece by piece. Everything about the day weighs on your chest. You lied. It affects you, that it’s his death anniversary. And now this. This power of yours should be reserved just for Jason. Why? Why? Why did it connect to someone else?

Your dog curls up on your chest, letting out a sad bark.

How did he know your name?

ᯓ★'s P.S. imma give this one an open ending in pt.2. now if you'll excuse me imma go rewtch the greatest hits and cry, thanks.

don't forget to comment to reblog if you enjoyed!

taglist꩜ .ᐟ series specific →. @iglb12, @jasontoddismygoat. comment if you would like to be added!!

゛masterlist ⸝⸝.ᐟ⋆ ★ taglist꩜ .ᐟ

Being stranded on the side of the highway in Gotham city in the middle of the night could be one of the worst scenarios anyone could possibly imagine, a million different things that could happen but you didn’t really have a choice. Your beloved car, one that restored from literally barebones, broke down on you, engine sputtering and dying on you, thankfully you were able to pull off to the side of the highway before it gave out completely.

You called someone you knew, a mechanic that helped you through the restoration but she wouldn’t be here for an half hour at least, and you couldn’t leave your baby here by herself, in this city? Goodness not! So here you were, waiting beside here patiently as the street lap above you flickered every few minutes, watching as cars pass by, hoping your friend will pop out of one of them.

Then a bike slowed down, enough to just pass by, pulling in right in front of your car. You almost think you’ve gone crazy, the way the leather jacket stretched over the man’s back, helmet a dark enough red that it looked black until he steps into the light, it too much like him.

“I have a gun.” You warn as he turns to face you. Black shirt under the jacket as he holds his hands up defensively, taking a few more steps to stand right under the light, slowly moving his hands to grab his helmet, there’s a click of a advance mechanism that you’re all too familiar with and then, the light graces his face.

Jason’s aged, not much but, of course, it’s been far too many years since you’d seen him. And if not for his unique white hair strip, the scars the dig deep into his cheek are far too recognisable, the ‘J’ accompanied by newer shallower ones he’d accumulated in his time away from you.

He watches you back as you profile him, your face, your posture, the way you carried yourself has changed. Life had obviously had taken its toll on you, you’d matured in the way your face was set, a blossom of pride in his chest as you follow what he’d thought you years ago, with the gun and it’s probably the same one he gave you.

“Just me, sweetheart.”

Jason’s voice goes down like a glass of whiskey, deep and smooth but burns all too close to your heart. He tilts his head to the side, gauging your reaction, mistaking your surprise for caution. You avert your eyes, looking back at your car, hand moving off the gun to smooth down a nonexistent wrinkle on your jacket.

You nod, one quick dip of your chin, allowing him to come closer to you, gentleman as always. You watch as he walks back a moment to drop his helmet back onto the bike as you survey your surroundings again, looking for watchful eyes or jittery bodies.

It’s been a long time, a little longer than half a decade, even in a city as small as Gotham, it was easy not running into him, especially when he avoided you religiously. Sometimes, when you felt a conspiracist, you could swear you saw a certain vigilante with a taste for the color red in your proximity, following you like a guardian angel in the night.

The time you had with Jason was phenomenal, the best of the best. No matter how broken he was, or you were, the two of you worked. Even when secrets came out, you were with him, a stubborn stick in the ground that didn’t budge in the toughest storm, you stayed with him. But his mind got to him, when the dangers got too apparent, when he realised the way his identity could hurt the one good thing in his life, he broke things off, no matter how you tried to make him understand.

After that, the city went back to being its same glum self. The streets were back to feeling grim and lifeless, bookstores lacked luster that he brought. He’ll always be the one that got away, the one you thought you’d spend the rest of your life with.

He avoided you with all his might, did everything not to associate himself with you. But he always lingered. Flowers that appeared out of thin air on days he knew were too tough for you. Gifts on every birthday that sit on the windowsill as a constant reminder, special edition of your favourite books being shipped from an ‘anonymous’ benefactor.

“Why are you standing here? It’s not safe.”

His voice snaps you out of your head, your eyes flying back to him who’s walking to you in slow steps, like he’s trying not to spook you. It’s not long before he’s standing in front of you, unintentionally imposing presence that made your chest tight with emotion.

“Not leaving my car by herself.” You whisper finally, Head craning up to look at him. The light was hitting him in a way that deepened his scars, but his eyes twinkled all that same, just the way they used to years ago “Stubborn as always.” He mutters under his breath as he shakes his head in disapproval. He looks down at your car, the one you’re standing guard for, jutting his chin in its direction. “What’s wrong?”

“The coolant system broke, it’s leaking.”

You cross your arms around your chest like it’ll shield you from the extended heartbreak you’re going to experience from this interaction. You watch as you walks past you, close enough that his jacket brushes yours, and to your car. He moves quickly, popping the hood of your car, leaning down to look into the contents of your engine.

You watch his shoulder move as he works, the jacket spreading across his back does nothing to hide the muscular frame underneath. He’d finally grown into his body, moving with more grace than you remember. It somehow felt like he was taller, or maybe your mind was exaggerating your vision, biceps and thighs definitely larger than you remember, consistent with what you’d expect for Red Hood.

You watch as Jason comes to the same conclusion, just nodding his head in agreement.

“Someone I know is coming to help me out.” You call out to break the silence, the sound of a vehicle crashing somewhere in the distance echos as he looks back at you. You watch as he, not so subtly, glances down at both your hands, obviously noting the lack of a wedding ring. Which is odd, since he probably already knows that you aren’t in a relationship, haven’t been in a solid once since him.

“Take my bike back home, I’ll wait here for him.”

You scoff, loudly and dramatically. If there was one thing about Jason, it’s that no one gets to touch that bike of his. It’s tuned to his exact specs, something he doesn’t think anyone else is capable of driving. But now, after all these years of avoiding you, breaking your heart, he’s offering for you to drive off in his bike?

“Her.” You correct. “And why aren’t you…” You pause for a moment to conjure the right word. The moon gleaming weakly through the dark clouds above is a sign that the vigilantes are going to come crawling out of their caves, literally. So why wasn’t Red Hood out terrorising bad guys. “Working?”

“I was riding down to Bludhaven to help Dick with something.” His reply is smooth, ever patient as he straightens up, closing the hood of your car but still lingering around it, mimicking your stance as he crosses his arms too, looking like a stand off to any bystander.“Convenient.” You comment.

There’s a deep sigh in your chest at the subsequent silence. What exactly are you two supposed to talk about? “Fuck it.” You mutter as you uncross your hands and dive into your jacket pocket, pulling out a cigarette packet and…shit. The only lighter you have is the one you got as a couples set when the two of you were still together, you thought it was an amazing gift, two lighters that match up when next to each other to depict both sides of wings engraved on them.

You make a split second decision to pull it out anyway, not missing the slight change in Jason’s posture, the way his eyes widen slightly, shoulders getting just a tab bit more rigid. Your finger runs over your name engraved on its bottom before you flip it open, bringing it to your mouth to light to cigarette nested between your lips.

Jason was a smoker, had been for a long time, and years ago, you weren’t. You had just thought that the lighters was a nice thing to have even though you didn’t smoke. But after the break up, you found one of Jason’s packs lying around your place and you had an itch, you lit one, maybe to feel closer to him somehow, but it soon became a proper habit, like for most people in Gotham.

“Those things will kill you.” Jason quips up, something you used to tease him with. you hold the cigarette between your pointer and middle finger, pulling it away to blow smoke into the night sky. Your eyebrows scrunch involuntarily, the words leaving your mouth before you can think twice about them. “So does flinging yourself at villains.”

“It did.” Jason jokes as the tip of his lips twitches, his eyes cast down to the pavement, expression as something you couldn’t quite decipher. He looks back up to watch utter horror pass on your features, a soft gasp when you realise what you said. “Shit—I didn’t meant to.” You say too quickly, genuinely apologetic.

“‘S alright.” Jason shakes his head softly, he knows you’d never make light of his previous death, something it too a long time for him to open up to you about. You open your mouth to apologise again, but he dismisses it with another shake of his head.

The same silence from before settles again, now you can’t even look him in the eyes. You’re smoking the same brand that he used to, the same one he had to change out of because it reminded him of you too much. His half of the lighter pair sits comfortably in the drawer next to his bed, something he doesn’t carry around for the risk of losing or damaging it, something he takes out to reminisce, give him a moment to relive how it was before he fucked it all up.

“How’s…Artemis?”

You utter out impulsively, regretting it immediately. Artemis was Jason’s ex, before the two of you dated, and there were always rumours that Red Hood had gotten with her again over the years. However ‘healed’ you were, you never could resist looking up the tabloids. And for fucks sake, why on earth are you asking him that?

The question catches him off guard too, you were never insecure in your relationship all those years ago and you knew Artemis was just a friend, a coworker, whatever label you want to slap on it, but just that. After you…he could never even consider someone else. It takes him a moment to get his gears, side of his lips now threatening to stretch into a smirk.

“Just be direct, c’mon. Ask me if I’m single.” Jason clocks his head to one side, a twinkle lit behind his eyes.

Just as you were about to roll your eyes, a familiar car approaching steals your attention as you wave to your friend. Jason watches as you walk past him as the car pulls up right behind yours, a smile stretching across your face in greeting that he didn’t get. Jason turns, slow steps back to his bike, just hoping you’d stop him…ask him to…stay?

“Who’s that?” Your friend asks as she gets out of her car, eyeing the man she’s never seen before as he walks back to his bike. You look back at him, watching his figure receding into the darkness, not looking back. You take another drag of the cigarette, blowing out the smoke and taking a moment to soak in the interaction before you answer.

“Someone I used to know.”

ᯓ★'s P.S. notice how the first half of this is better? yeah i wrote that aaaages ago, i did my dialogue thing and forgot about this and now filled in the rest so i apologise if the flow of it is missing and its not that great

don't forget to comment and reblog if you enjoyed!

← ゛masterlist ⸝⸝.ᐟ⋆

Being stranded on the side of the highway in Gotham city in the middle of the night could be one of the worst scenarios anyone could possibly imagine, a million different things that could happen but you didn’t really have a choice. Your beloved car, one that restored from literally barebones, broke down on you, engine sputtering and dying on you, thankfully you were able to pull off to the side of the highway before it gave out completely.

You called someone you knew, a mechanic that helped you through the restoration but she wouldn’t be here for an half hour at least, and you couldn’t leave your baby here by herself, in this city? Goodness not! So here you were, waiting beside here patiently as the street lap above you flickered every few minutes, watching as cars pass by, hoping your friend will pop out of one of them.

Then a bike slowed down, enough to just pass by, pulling in right in front of your car. You almost think you’ve gone crazy, the way the leather jacket stretched over the man’s back, helmet a dark enough red that it looked black until he steps into the light, it too much like him.

“I have a gun.” You warn as he turns to face you. Black shirt under the jacket as he holds his hands up defensively, taking a few more steps to stand right under the light, slowly moving his hands to grab his helmet, there’s a click of a advance mechanism that you’re all too familiar with and then, the light graces his face.

Jason’s aged, not much but, of course, it’s been far too many years since you’d seen him. And if not for his unique white hair strip, the scars the dig deep into his cheek are far too recognisable, the ‘J’ accompanied by newer shallower ones he’d accumulated in his time away from you.

He watches you back as you profile him, your face, your posture, the way you carried yourself has changed. Life had obviously had taken its toll on you, you’d matured in the way your face was set, a blossom of pride in his chest as you follow what he’d thought you years ago, with the gun and it’s probably the same one he gave you.

“Just me, sweetheart.”

Jason’s voice goes down like a glass of whiskey, deep and smooth but burns all too close to your heart. He tilts his head to the side, gauging your reaction, mistaking your surprise for caution. You avert your eyes, looking back at your car, hand moving off the gun to smooth down a nonexistent wrinkle on your jacket.

You nod, one quick dip of your chin, allowing him to come closer to you, gentleman as always. You watch as he walks back a moment to drop his helmet back onto the bike as you survey your surroundings again, looking for watchful eyes or jittery bodies.

It’s been a long time, a little longer than half a decade, even in a city as small as Gotham, it was easy not running into him, especially when he avoided you religiously. Sometimes, when you felt a conspiracist, you could swear you saw a certain vigilante with a taste for the color red in your proximity, following you like a guardian angel in the night.

The time you had with Jason was phenomenal, the best of the best. No matter how broken he was, or you were, the two of you worked. Even when secrets came out, you were with him, a stubborn stick in the ground that didn’t budge in the toughest storm, you stayed with him. But his mind got to him, when the dangers got too apparent, when he realised the way his identity could hurt the one good thing in his life, he broke things off, no matter how you tried to make him understand.

After that, the city went back to being its same glum self. The streets were back to feeling grim and lifeless, bookstores lacked luster that he brought. He’ll always be the one that got away, the one you thought you’d spend the rest of your life with.

He avoided you with all his might, did everything not to associate himself with you. But he always lingered. Flowers that appeared out of thin air on days he knew were too tough for you. Gifts on every birthday that sit on the windowsill as a constant reminder, special edition of your favourite books being shipped from an ‘anonymous’ benefactor.

“Why are you standing here? It’s not safe.”

His voice snaps you out of your head, your eyes flying back to him who’s walking to you in slow steps, like he’s trying not to spook you. It’s not long before he’s standing in front of you, unintentionally imposing presence that made your chest tight with emotion.

“Not leaving my car by herself.” You whisper finally, Head craning up to look at him. The light was hitting him in a way that deepened his scars, but his eyes twinkled all that same, just the way they used to years ago “Stubborn as always.” He mutters under his breath as he shakes his head in disapproval. He looks down at your car, the one you’re standing guard for, jutting his chin in its direction. “What’s wrong?”

“The coolant system broke, it’s leaking.”

You cross your arms around your chest like it’ll shield you from the extended heartbreak you’re going to experience from this interaction. You watch as you walks past you, close enough that his jacket brushes yours, and to your car. He moves quickly, popping the hood of your car, leaning down to look into the contents of your engine.

You watch his shoulder move as he works, the jacket spreading across his back does nothing to hide the muscular frame underneath. He’d finally grown into his body, moving with more grace than you remember. It somehow felt like he was taller, or maybe your mind was exaggerating your vision, biceps and thighs definitely larger than you remember, consistent with what you’d expect for Red Hood.

You watch as Jason comes to the same conclusion, just nodding his head in agreement.

“Someone I know is coming to help me out.” You call out to break the silence, the sound of a vehicle crashing somewhere in the distance echos as he looks back at you. You watch as he, not so subtly, glances down at both your hands, obviously noting the lack of a wedding ring. Which is odd, since he probably already knows that you aren’t in a relationship, haven’t been in a solid once since him.

“Take my bike back home, I’ll wait here for him.”

You scoff, loudly and dramatically. If there was one thing about Jason, it’s that no one gets to touch that bike of his. It’s tuned to his exact specs, something he doesn’t think anyone else is capable of driving. But now, after all these years of avoiding you, breaking your heart, he’s offering for you to drive off in his bike?

“Her.” You correct. “And why aren’t you…” You pause for a moment to conjure the right word. The moon gleaming weakly through the dark clouds above is a sign that the vigilantes are going to come crawling out of their caves, literally. So why wasn’t Red Hood out terrorising bad guys. “Working?”

“I was riding down to Bludhaven to help Dick with something.” His reply is smooth, ever patient as he straightens up, closing the hood of your car but still lingering around it, mimicking your stance as he crosses his arms too, looking like a stand off to any bystander.“Convenient.” You comment.

There’s a deep sigh in your chest at the subsequent silence. What exactly are you two supposed to talk about? “Fuck it.” You mutter as you uncross your hands and dive into your jacket pocket, pulling out a cigarette packet and…shit. The only lighter you have is the one you got as a couples set when the two of you were still together, you thought it was an amazing gift, two lighters that match up when next to each other to depict both sides of wings engraved on them.

You make a split second decision to pull it out anyway, not missing the slight change in Jason’s posture, the way his eyes widen slightly, shoulders getting just a tab bit more rigid. Your finger runs over your name engraved on its bottom before you flip it open, bringing it to your mouth to light to cigarette nested between your lips.

Jason was a smoker, had been for a long time, and years ago, you weren’t. You had just thought that the lighters was a nice thing to have even though you didn’t smoke. But after the break up, you found one of Jason’s packs lying around your place and you had an itch, you lit one, maybe to feel closer to him somehow, but it soon became a proper habit, like for most people in Gotham.

“Those things will kill you.” Jason quips up, something you used to tease him with. you hold the cigarette between your pointer and middle finger, pulling it away to blow smoke into the night sky. Your eyebrows scrunch involuntarily, the words leaving your mouth before you can think twice about them. “So does flinging yourself at villains.”

“It did.” Jason jokes as the tip of his lips twitches, his eyes cast down to the pavement, expression as something you couldn’t quite decipher. He looks back up to watch utter horror pass on your features, a soft gasp when you realise what you said. “Shit—I didn’t meant to.” You say too quickly, genuinely apologetic.

“‘S alright.” Jason shakes his head softly, he knows you’d never make light of his previous death, something it too a long time for him to open up to you about. You open your mouth to apologise again, but he dismisses it with another shake of his head.

The same silence from before settles again, now you can’t even look him in the eyes. You’re smoking the same brand that he used to, the same one he had to change out of because it reminded him of you too much. His half of the lighter pair sits comfortably in the drawer next to his bed, something he doesn’t carry around for the risk of losing or damaging it, something he takes out to reminisce, give him a moment to relive how it was before he fucked it all up.

“How’s…Artemis?”

You utter out impulsively, regretting it immediately. Artemis was Jason’s ex, before the two of you dated, and there were always rumours that Red Hood had gotten with her again over the years. However ‘healed’ you were, you never could resist looking up the tabloids. And for fucks sake, why on earth are you asking him that?

The question catches him off guard too, you were never insecure in your relationship all those years ago and you knew Artemis was just a friend, a coworker, whatever label you want to slap on it, but just that. After you…he could never even consider someone else. It takes him a moment to get his gears, side of his lips now threatening to stretch into a smirk.

“Just be direct, c’mon. Ask me if I’m single.” Jason clocks his head to one side, a twinkle lit behind his eyes.

Just as you were about to roll your eyes, a familiar car approaching steals your attention as you wave to your friend. Jason watches as you walk past him as the car pulls up right behind yours, a smile stretching across your face in greeting that he didn’t get. Jason turns, slow steps back to his bike, just hoping you’d stop him…ask him to…stay?

“Who’s that?” Your friend asks as she gets out of her car, eyeing the man she’s never seen before as he walks back to his bike. You look back at him, watching his figure receding into the darkness, not looking back. You take another drag of the cigarette, blowing out the smoke and taking a moment to soak in the interaction before you answer.

“Someone I used to know.”

ᯓ★'s P.S. notice how the first half of this is better? yeah i wrote that aaaages ago, i did my dialogue thing and forgot about this and now filled in the rest so i apologise if the flow of it is missing and its not that great

don't forget to comment and reblog if you enjoyed!

← ゛masterlist ⸝⸝.ᐟ⋆

Being stranded on the side of the highway in Gotham city in the middle of the night could be one of the worst scenarios anyone could possibly imagine, a million different things that could happen but you didn’t really have a choice. Your beloved car, one that restored from literally barebones, broke down on you, engine sputtering and dying on you, thankfully you were able to pull off to the side of the highway before it gave out completely.

You called someone you knew, a mechanic that helped you through the restoration but she wouldn’t be here for an half hour at least, and you couldn’t leave your baby here by herself, in this city? Goodness not! So here you were, waiting beside here patiently as the street lap above you flickered every few minutes, watching as cars pass by, hoping your friend will pop out of one of them.

Then a bike slowed down, enough to just pass by, pulling in right in front of your car. You almost think you’ve gone crazy, the way the leather jacket stretched over the man’s back, helmet a dark enough red that it looked black until he steps into the light, it too much like him.

“I have a gun.” You warn as he turns to face you. Black shirt under the jacket as he holds his hands up defensively, taking a few more steps to stand right under the light, slowly moving his hands to grab his helmet, there’s a click of a advance mechanism that you’re all too familiar with and then, the light graces his face.

Jason’s aged, not much but, of course, it’s been far too many years since you’d seen him. And if not for his unique white hair strip, the scars the dig deep into his cheek are far too recognisable, the ‘J’ accompanied by newer shallower ones he’d accumulated in his time away from you.

He watches you back as you profile him, your face, your posture, the way you carried yourself has changed. Life had obviously had taken its toll on you, you’d matured in the way your face was set, a blossom of pride in his chest as you follow what he’d thought you years ago, with the gun and it’s probably the same one he gave you.

“Just me, sweetheart.”

Jason’s voice goes down like a glass of whiskey, deep and smooth but burns all too close to your heart. He tilts his head to the side, gauging your reaction, mistaking your surprise for caution. You avert your eyes, looking back at your car, hand moving off the gun to smooth down a nonexistent wrinkle on your jacket.

You nod, one quick dip of your chin, allowing him to come closer to you, gentleman as always. You watch as he walks back a moment to drop his helmet back onto the bike as you survey your surroundings again, looking for watchful eyes or jittery bodies.

It’s been a long time, a little longer than half a decade, even in a city as small as Gotham, it was easy not running into him, especially when he avoided you religiously. Sometimes, when you felt a conspiracist, you could swear you saw a certain vigilante with a taste for the color red in your proximity, following you like a guardian angel in the night.

The time you had with Jason was phenomenal, the best of the best. No matter how broken he was, or you were, the two of you worked. Even when secrets came out, you were with him, a stubborn stick in the ground that didn’t budge in the toughest storm, you stayed with him. But his mind got to him, when the dangers got too apparent, when he realised the way his identity could hurt the one good thing in his life, he broke things off, no matter how you tried to make him understand.

After that, the city went back to being its same glum self. The streets were back to feeling grim and lifeless, bookstores lacked luster that he brought. He’ll always be the one that got away, the one you thought you’d spend the rest of your life with.

He avoided you with all his might, did everything not to associate himself with you. But he always lingered. Flowers that appeared out of thin air on days he knew were too tough for you. Gifts on every birthday that sit on the windowsill as a constant reminder, special edition of your favourite books being shipped from an ‘anonymous’ benefactor.

“Why are you standing here? It’s not safe.”

His voice snaps you out of your head, your eyes flying back to him who’s walking to you in slow steps, like he’s trying not to spook you. It’s not long before he’s standing in front of you, unintentionally imposing presence that made your chest tight with emotion.

“Not leaving my car by herself.” You whisper finally, Head craning up to look at him. The light was hitting him in a way that deepened his scars, but his eyes twinkled all that same, just the way they used to years ago “Stubborn as always.” He mutters under his breath as he shakes his head in disapproval. He looks down at your car, the one you’re standing guard for, jutting his chin in its direction. “What’s wrong?”

“The coolant system broke, it’s leaking.”

You cross your arms around your chest like it’ll shield you from the extended heartbreak you’re going to experience from this interaction. You watch as you walks past you, close enough that his jacket brushes yours, and to your car. He moves quickly, popping the hood of your car, leaning down to look into the contents of your engine.

You watch his shoulder move as he works, the jacket spreading across his back does nothing to hide the muscular frame underneath. He’d finally grown into his body, moving with more grace than you remember. It somehow felt like he was taller, or maybe your mind was exaggerating your vision, biceps and thighs definitely larger than you remember, consistent with what you’d expect for Red Hood.

You watch as Jason comes to the same conclusion, just nodding his head in agreement.

“Someone I know is coming to help me out.” You call out to break the silence, the sound of a vehicle crashing somewhere in the distance echos as he looks back at you. You watch as he, not so subtly, glances down at both your hands, obviously noting the lack of a wedding ring. Which is odd, since he probably already knows that you aren’t in a relationship, haven’t been in a solid once since him.

“Take my bike back home, I’ll wait here for him.”

You scoff, loudly and dramatically. If there was one thing about Jason, it’s that no one gets to touch that bike of his. It’s tuned to his exact specs, something he doesn’t think anyone else is capable of driving. But now, after all these years of avoiding you, breaking your heart, he’s offering for you to drive off in his bike?

“Her.” You correct. “And why aren’t you…” You pause for a moment to conjure the right word. The moon gleaming weakly through the dark clouds above is a sign that the vigilantes are going to come crawling out of their caves, literally. So why wasn’t Red Hood out terrorising bad guys. “Working?”

“I was riding down to Bludhaven to help Dick with something.” His reply is smooth, ever patient as he straightens up, closing the hood of your car but still lingering around it, mimicking your stance as he crosses his arms too, looking like a stand off to any bystander.“Convenient.” You comment.

There’s a deep sigh in your chest at the subsequent silence. What exactly are you two supposed to talk about? “Fuck it.” You mutter as you uncross your hands and dive into your jacket pocket, pulling out a cigarette packet and…shit. The only lighter you have is the one you got as a couples set when the two of you were still together, you thought it was an amazing gift, two lighters that match up when next to each other to depict both sides of wings engraved on them.

You make a split second decision to pull it out anyway, not missing the slight change in Jason’s posture, the way his eyes widen slightly, shoulders getting just a tab bit more rigid. Your finger runs over your name engraved on its bottom before you flip it open, bringing it to your mouth to light to cigarette nested between your lips.

Jason was a smoker, had been for a long time, and years ago, you weren’t. You had just thought that the lighters was a nice thing to have even though you didn’t smoke. But after the break up, you found one of Jason’s packs lying around your place and you had an itch, you lit one, maybe to feel closer to him somehow, but it soon became a proper habit, like for most people in Gotham.

“Those things will kill you.” Jason quips up, something you used to tease him with. you hold the cigarette between your pointer and middle finger, pulling it away to blow smoke into the night sky. Your eyebrows scrunch involuntarily, the words leaving your mouth before you can think twice about them. “So does flinging yourself at villains.”

“It did.” Jason jokes as the tip of his lips twitches, his eyes cast down to the pavement, expression as something you couldn’t quite decipher. He looks back up to watch utter horror pass on your features, a soft gasp when you realise what you said. “Shit—I didn’t meant to.” You say too quickly, genuinely apologetic.

“‘S alright.” Jason shakes his head softly, he knows you’d never make light of his previous death, something it too a long time for him to open up to you about. You open your mouth to apologise again, but he dismisses it with another shake of his head.

The same silence from before settles again, now you can’t even look him in the eyes. You’re smoking the same brand that he used to, the same one he had to change out of because it reminded him of you too much. His half of the lighter pair sits comfortably in the drawer next to his bed, something he doesn’t carry around for the risk of losing or damaging it, something he takes out to reminisce, give him a moment to relive how it was before he fucked it all up.

“How’s…Artemis?”

You utter out impulsively, regretting it immediately. Artemis was Jason’s ex, before the two of you dated, and there were always rumours that Red Hood had gotten with her again over the years. However ‘healed’ you were, you never could resist looking up the tabloids. And for fucks sake, why on earth are you asking him that?

The question catches him off guard too, you were never insecure in your relationship all those years ago and you knew Artemis was just a friend, a coworker, whatever label you want to slap on it, but just that. After you…he could never even consider someone else. It takes him a moment to get his gears, side of his lips now threatening to stretch into a smirk.

“Just be direct, c’mon. Ask me if I’m single.” Jason clocks his head to one side, a twinkle lit behind his eyes.

Just as you were about to roll your eyes, a familiar car approaching steals your attention as you wave to your friend. Jason watches as you walk past him as the car pulls up right behind yours, a smile stretching across your face in greeting that he didn’t get. Jason turns, slow steps back to his bike, just hoping you’d stop him…ask him to…stay?

“Who’s that?” Your friend asks as she gets out of her car, eyeing the man she’s never seen before as he walks back to his bike. You look back at him, watching his figure receding into the darkness, not looking back. You take another drag of the cigarette, blowing out the smoke and taking a moment to soak in the interaction before you answer.

“Someone I used to know.”

ᯓ★'s P.S. notice how the first half of this is better? yeah i wrote that aaaages ago, i did my dialogue thing and forgot about this and now filled in the rest so i apologise if the flow of it is missing and its not that great

don't forget to comment and reblog if you enjoyed!

← ゛masterlist ⸝⸝.ᐟ⋆

Being stranded on the side of the highway in Gotham city in the middle of the night could be one of the worst scenarios anyone could possibly imagine, a million different things that could happen but you didn’t really have a choice. Your beloved car, one that restored from literally barebones, broke down on you, engine sputtering and dying on you, thankfully you were able to pull off to the side of the highway before it gave out completely.

You called someone you knew, a mechanic that helped you through the restoration but she wouldn’t be here for an half hour at least, and you couldn’t leave your baby here by herself, in this city? Goodness not! So here you were, waiting beside here patiently as the street lap above you flickered every few minutes, watching as cars pass by, hoping your friend will pop out of one of them.

Then a bike slowed down, enough to just pass by, pulling in right in front of your car. You almost think you’ve gone crazy, the way the leather jacket stretched over the man’s back, helmet a dark enough red that it looked black until he steps into the light, it too much like him.

“I have a gun.” You warn as he turns to face you. Black shirt under the jacket as he holds his hands up defensively, taking a few more steps to stand right under the light, slowly moving his hands to grab his helmet, there’s a click of a advance mechanism that you’re all too familiar with and then, the light graces his face.

Jason’s aged, not much but, of course, it’s been far too many years since you’d seen him. And if not for his unique white hair strip, the scars the dig deep into his cheek are far too recognisable, the ‘J’ accompanied by newer shallower ones he’d accumulated in his time away from you.

He watches you back as you profile him, your face, your posture, the way you carried yourself has changed. Life had obviously had taken its toll on you, you’d matured in the way your face was set, a blossom of pride in his chest as you follow what he’d thought you years ago, with the gun and it’s probably the same one he gave you.

“Just me, sweetheart.”

Jason’s voice goes down like a glass of whiskey, deep and smooth but burns all too close to your heart. He tilts his head to the side, gauging your reaction, mistaking your surprise for caution. You avert your eyes, looking back at your car, hand moving off the gun to smooth down a nonexistent wrinkle on your jacket.

You nod, one quick dip of your chin, allowing him to come closer to you, gentleman as always. You watch as he walks back a moment to drop his helmet back onto the bike as you survey your surroundings again, looking for watchful eyes or jittery bodies.

It’s been a long time, a little longer than half a decade, even in a city as small as Gotham, it was easy not running into him, especially when he avoided you religiously. Sometimes, when you felt a conspiracist, you could swear you saw a certain vigilante with a taste for the color red in your proximity, following you like a guardian angel in the night.

The time you had with Jason was phenomenal, the best of the best. No matter how broken he was, or you were, the two of you worked. Even when secrets came out, you were with him, a stubborn stick in the ground that didn’t budge in the toughest storm, you stayed with him. But his mind got to him, when the dangers got too apparent, when he realised the way his identity could hurt the one good thing in his life, he broke things off, no matter how you tried to make him understand.

After that, the city went back to being its same glum self. The streets were back to feeling grim and lifeless, bookstores lacked luster that he brought. He’ll always be the one that got away, the one you thought you’d spend the rest of your life with.

He avoided you with all his might, did everything not to associate himself with you. But he always lingered. Flowers that appeared out of thin air on days he knew were too tough for you. Gifts on every birthday that sit on the windowsill as a constant reminder, special edition of your favourite books being shipped from an ‘anonymous’ benefactor.

“Why are you standing here? It’s not safe.”

His voice snaps you out of your head, your eyes flying back to him who’s walking to you in slow steps, like he’s trying not to spook you. It’s not long before he’s standing in front of you, unintentionally imposing presence that made your chest tight with emotion.

“Not leaving my car by herself.” You whisper finally, Head craning up to look at him. The light was hitting him in a way that deepened his scars, but his eyes twinkled all that same, just the way they used to years ago “Stubborn as always.” He mutters under his breath as he shakes his head in disapproval. He looks down at your car, the one you’re standing guard for, jutting his chin in its direction. “What’s wrong?”

“The coolant system broke, it’s leaking.”

You cross your arms around your chest like it’ll shield you from the extended heartbreak you’re going to experience from this interaction. You watch as you walks past you, close enough that his jacket brushes yours, and to your car. He moves quickly, popping the hood of your car, leaning down to look into the contents of your engine.

You watch his shoulder move as he works, the jacket spreading across his back does nothing to hide the muscular frame underneath. He’d finally grown into his body, moving with more grace than you remember. It somehow felt like he was taller, or maybe your mind was exaggerating your vision, biceps and thighs definitely larger than you remember, consistent with what you’d expect for Red Hood.

You watch as Jason comes to the same conclusion, just nodding his head in agreement.

“Someone I know is coming to help me out.” You call out to break the silence, the sound of a vehicle crashing somewhere in the distance echos as he looks back at you. You watch as he, not so subtly, glances down at both your hands, obviously noting the lack of a wedding ring. Which is odd, since he probably already knows that you aren’t in a relationship, haven’t been in a solid once since him.

“Take my bike back home, I’ll wait here for him.”

You scoff, loudly and dramatically. If there was one thing about Jason, it’s that no one gets to touch that bike of his. It’s tuned to his exact specs, something he doesn’t think anyone else is capable of driving. But now, after all these years of avoiding you, breaking your heart, he’s offering for you to drive off in his bike?

“Her.” You correct. “And why aren’t you…” You pause for a moment to conjure the right word. The moon gleaming weakly through the dark clouds above is a sign that the vigilantes are going to come crawling out of their caves, literally. So why wasn’t Red Hood out terrorising bad guys. “Working?”

“I was riding down to Bludhaven to help Dick with something.” His reply is smooth, ever patient as he straightens up, closing the hood of your car but still lingering around it, mimicking your stance as he crosses his arms too, looking like a stand off to any bystander.“Convenient.” You comment.

There’s a deep sigh in your chest at the subsequent silence. What exactly are you two supposed to talk about? “Fuck it.” You mutter as you uncross your hands and dive into your jacket pocket, pulling out a cigarette packet and…shit. The only lighter you have is the one you got as a couples set when the two of you were still together, you thought it was an amazing gift, two lighters that match up when next to each other to depict both sides of wings engraved on them.

You make a split second decision to pull it out anyway, not missing the slight change in Jason’s posture, the way his eyes widen slightly, shoulders getting just a tab bit more rigid. Your finger runs over your name engraved on its bottom before you flip it open, bringing it to your mouth to light to cigarette nested between your lips.

Jason was a smoker, had been for a long time, and years ago, you weren’t. You had just thought that the lighters was a nice thing to have even though you didn’t smoke. But after the break up, you found one of Jason’s packs lying around your place and you had an itch, you lit one, maybe to feel closer to him somehow, but it soon became a proper habit, like for most people in Gotham.

“Those things will kill you.” Jason quips up, something you used to tease him with. you hold the cigarette between your pointer and middle finger, pulling it away to blow smoke into the night sky. Your eyebrows scrunch involuntarily, the words leaving your mouth before you can think twice about them. “So does flinging yourself at villains.”

“It did.” Jason jokes as the tip of his lips twitches, his eyes cast down to the pavement, expression as something you couldn’t quite decipher. He looks back up to watch utter horror pass on your features, a soft gasp when you realise what you said. “Shit—I didn’t meant to.” You say too quickly, genuinely apologetic.

“‘S alright.” Jason shakes his head softly, he knows you’d never make light of his previous death, something it too a long time for him to open up to you about. You open your mouth to apologise again, but he dismisses it with another shake of his head.

The same silence from before settles again, now you can’t even look him in the eyes. You’re smoking the same brand that he used to, the same one he had to change out of because it reminded him of you too much. His half of the lighter pair sits comfortably in the drawer next to his bed, something he doesn’t carry around for the risk of losing or damaging it, something he takes out to reminisce, give him a moment to relive how it was before he fucked it all up.

“How’s…Artemis?”

You utter out impulsively, regretting it immediately. Artemis was Jason’s ex, before the two of you dated, and there were always rumours that Red Hood had gotten with her again over the years. However ‘healed’ you were, you never could resist looking up the tabloids. And for fucks sake, why on earth are you asking him that?

The question catches him off guard too, you were never insecure in your relationship all those years ago and you knew Artemis was just a friend, a coworker, whatever label you want to slap on it, but just that. After you…he could never even consider someone else. It takes him a moment to get his gears, side of his lips now threatening to stretch into a smirk.

“Just be direct, c’mon. Ask me if I’m single.” Jason clocks his head to one side, a twinkle lit behind his eyes.

Just as you were about to roll your eyes, a familiar car approaching steals your attention as you wave to your friend. Jason watches as you walk past him as the car pulls up right behind yours, a smile stretching across your face in greeting that he didn’t get. Jason turns, slow steps back to his bike, just hoping you’d stop him…ask him to…stay?

“Who’s that?” Your friend asks as she gets out of her car, eyeing the man she’s never seen before as he walks back to his bike. You look back at him, watching his figure receding into the darkness, not looking back. You take another drag of the cigarette, blowing out the smoke and taking a moment to soak in the interaction before you answer.

“Someone I used to know.”

ᯓ★'s P.S. notice how the first half of this is better? yeah i wrote that aaaages ago, i did my dialogue thing and forgot about this and now filled in the rest so i apologise if the flow of it is missing and its not that great

don't forget to comment and reblog if you enjoyed!

← ゛masterlist ⸝⸝.ᐟ⋆

Being stranded on the side of the highway in Gotham city in the middle of the night could be one of the worst scenarios anyone could possibly imagine, a million different things that could happen but you didn’t really have a choice. Your beloved car, one that restored from literally barebones, broke down on you, engine sputtering and dying on you, thankfully you were able to pull off to the side of the highway before it gave out completely.

You called someone you knew, a mechanic that helped you through the restoration but she wouldn’t be here for an half hour at least, and you couldn’t leave your baby here by herself, in this city? Goodness not! So here you were, waiting beside here patiently as the street lap above you flickered every few minutes, watching as cars pass by, hoping your friend will pop out of one of them.

Then a bike slowed down, enough to just pass by, pulling in right in front of your car. You almost think you’ve gone crazy, the way the leather jacket stretched over the man’s back, helmet a dark enough red that it looked black until he steps into the light, it too much like him.

“I have a gun.” You warn as he turns to face you. Black shirt under the jacket as he holds his hands up defensively, taking a few more steps to stand right under the light, slowly moving his hands to grab his helmet, there’s a click of a advance mechanism that you’re all too familiar with and then, the light graces his face.

Jason’s aged, not much but, of course, it’s been far too many years since you’d seen him. And if not for his unique white hair strip, the scars the dig deep into his cheek are far too recognisable, the ‘J’ accompanied by newer shallower ones he’d accumulated in his time away from you.

He watches you back as you profile him, your face, your posture, the way you carried yourself has changed. Life had obviously had taken its toll on you, you’d matured in the way your face was set, a blossom of pride in his chest as you follow what he’d thought you years ago, with the gun and it’s probably the same one he gave you.

“Just me, sweetheart.”

Jason’s voice goes down like a glass of whiskey, deep and smooth but burns all too close to your heart. He tilts his head to the side, gauging your reaction, mistaking your surprise for caution. You avert your eyes, looking back at your car, hand moving off the gun to smooth down a nonexistent wrinkle on your jacket.

You nod, one quick dip of your chin, allowing him to come closer to you, gentleman as always. You watch as he walks back a moment to drop his helmet back onto the bike as you survey your surroundings again, looking for watchful eyes or jittery bodies.

It’s been a long time, a little longer than half a decade, even in a city as small as Gotham, it was easy not running into him, especially when he avoided you religiously. Sometimes, when you felt a conspiracist, you could swear you saw a certain vigilante with a taste for the color red in your proximity, following you like a guardian angel in the night.

The time you had with Jason was phenomenal, the best of the best. No matter how broken he was, or you were, the two of you worked. Even when secrets came out, you were with him, a stubborn stick in the ground that didn’t budge in the toughest storm, you stayed with him. But his mind got to him, when the dangers got too apparent, when he realised the way his identity could hurt the one good thing in his life, he broke things off, no matter how you tried to make him understand.

After that, the city went back to being its same glum self. The streets were back to feeling grim and lifeless, bookstores lacked luster that he brought. He’ll always be the one that got away, the one you thought you’d spend the rest of your life with.

He avoided you with all his might, did everything not to associate himself with you. But he always lingered. Flowers that appeared out of thin air on days he knew were too tough for you. Gifts on every birthday that sit on the windowsill as a constant reminder, special edition of your favourite books being shipped from an ‘anonymous’ benefactor.

“Why are you standing here? It’s not safe.”

His voice snaps you out of your head, your eyes flying back to him who’s walking to you in slow steps, like he’s trying not to spook you. It’s not long before he’s standing in front of you, unintentionally imposing presence that made your chest tight with emotion.

“Not leaving my car by herself.” You whisper finally, Head craning up to look at him. The light was hitting him in a way that deepened his scars, but his eyes twinkled all that same, just the way they used to years ago “Stubborn as always.” He mutters under his breath as he shakes his head in disapproval. He looks down at your car, the one you’re standing guard for, jutting his chin in its direction. “What’s wrong?”

“The coolant system broke, it’s leaking.”

You cross your arms around your chest like it’ll shield you from the extended heartbreak you’re going to experience from this interaction. You watch as you walks past you, close enough that his jacket brushes yours, and to your car. He moves quickly, popping the hood of your car, leaning down to look into the contents of your engine.

You watch his shoulder move as he works, the jacket spreading across his back does nothing to hide the muscular frame underneath. He’d finally grown into his body, moving with more grace than you remember. It somehow felt like he was taller, or maybe your mind was exaggerating your vision, biceps and thighs definitely larger than you remember, consistent with what you’d expect for Red Hood.

You watch as Jason comes to the same conclusion, just nodding his head in agreement.

“Someone I know is coming to help me out.” You call out to break the silence, the sound of a vehicle crashing somewhere in the distance echos as he looks back at you. You watch as he, not so subtly, glances down at both your hands, obviously noting the lack of a wedding ring. Which is odd, since he probably already knows that you aren’t in a relationship, haven’t been in a solid once since him.

“Take my bike back home, I’ll wait here for him.”

You scoff, loudly and dramatically. If there was one thing about Jason, it’s that no one gets to touch that bike of his. It’s tuned to his exact specs, something he doesn’t think anyone else is capable of driving. But now, after all these years of avoiding you, breaking your heart, he’s offering for you to drive off in his bike?

“Her.” You correct. “And why aren’t you…” You pause for a moment to conjure the right word. The moon gleaming weakly through the dark clouds above is a sign that the vigilantes are going to come crawling out of their caves, literally. So why wasn’t Red Hood out terrorising bad guys. “Working?”

“I was riding down to Bludhaven to help Dick with something.” His reply is smooth, ever patient as he straightens up, closing the hood of your car but still lingering around it, mimicking your stance as he crosses his arms too, looking like a stand off to any bystander.“Convenient.” You comment.

There’s a deep sigh in your chest at the subsequent silence. What exactly are you two supposed to talk about? “Fuck it.” You mutter as you uncross your hands and dive into your jacket pocket, pulling out a cigarette packet and…shit. The only lighter you have is the one you got as a couples set when the two of you were still together, you thought it was an amazing gift, two lighters that match up when next to each other to depict both sides of wings engraved on them.

You make a split second decision to pull it out anyway, not missing the slight change in Jason’s posture, the way his eyes widen slightly, shoulders getting just a tab bit more rigid. Your finger runs over your name engraved on its bottom before you flip it open, bringing it to your mouth to light to cigarette nested between your lips.

Jason was a smoker, had been for a long time, and years ago, you weren’t. You had just thought that the lighters was a nice thing to have even though you didn’t smoke. But after the break up, you found one of Jason’s packs lying around your place and you had an itch, you lit one, maybe to feel closer to him somehow, but it soon became a proper habit, like for most people in Gotham.

“Those things will kill you.” Jason quips up, something you used to tease him with. you hold the cigarette between your pointer and middle finger, pulling it away to blow smoke into the night sky. Your eyebrows scrunch involuntarily, the words leaving your mouth before you can think twice about them. “So does flinging yourself at villains.”

“It did.” Jason jokes as the tip of his lips twitches, his eyes cast down to the pavement, expression as something you couldn’t quite decipher. He looks back up to watch utter horror pass on your features, a soft gasp when you realise what you said. “Shit—I didn’t meant to.” You say too quickly, genuinely apologetic.

“‘S alright.” Jason shakes his head softly, he knows you’d never make light of his previous death, something it too a long time for him to open up to you about. You open your mouth to apologise again, but he dismisses it with another shake of his head.

The same silence from before settles again, now you can’t even look him in the eyes. You’re smoking the same brand that he used to, the same one he had to change out of because it reminded him of you too much. His half of the lighter pair sits comfortably in the drawer next to his bed, something he doesn’t carry around for the risk of losing or damaging it, something he takes out to reminisce, give him a moment to relive how it was before he fucked it all up.

“How’s…Artemis?”

You utter out impulsively, regretting it immediately. Artemis was Jason’s ex, before the two of you dated, and there were always rumours that Red Hood had gotten with her again over the years. However ‘healed’ you were, you never could resist looking up the tabloids. And for fucks sake, why on earth are you asking him that?

The question catches him off guard too, you were never insecure in your relationship all those years ago and you knew Artemis was just a friend, a coworker, whatever label you want to slap on it, but just that. After you…he could never even consider someone else. It takes him a moment to get his gears, side of his lips now threatening to stretch into a smirk.

“Just be direct, c’mon. Ask me if I’m single.” Jason clocks his head to one side, a twinkle lit behind his eyes.

Just as you were about to roll your eyes, a familiar car approaching steals your attention as you wave to your friend. Jason watches as you walk past him as the car pulls up right behind yours, a smile stretching across your face in greeting that he didn’t get. Jason turns, slow steps back to his bike, just hoping you’d stop him…ask him to…stay?

“Who’s that?” Your friend asks as she gets out of her car, eyeing the man she’s never seen before as he walks back to his bike. You look back at him, watching his figure receding into the darkness, not looking back. You take another drag of the cigarette, blowing out the smoke and taking a moment to soak in the interaction before you answer.

“Someone I used to know.”

ᯓ★'s P.S. notice how the first half of this is better? yeah i wrote that aaaages ago, i did my dialogue thing and forgot about this and now filled in the rest so i apologise if the flow of it is missing and its not that great

don't forget to comment and reblog if you enjoyed!

← ゛masterlist ⸝⸝.ᐟ⋆

Being stranded on the side of the highway in Gotham city in the middle of the night could be one of the worst scenarios anyone could possibly imagine, a million different things that could happen but you didn’t really have a choice. Your beloved car, one that restored from literally barebones, broke down on you, engine sputtering and dying on you, thankfully you were able to pull off to the side of the highway before it gave out completely.

You called someone you knew, a mechanic that helped you through the restoration but she wouldn’t be here for an half hour at least, and you couldn’t leave your baby here by herself, in this city? Goodness not! So here you were, waiting beside here patiently as the street lap above you flickered every few minutes, watching as cars pass by, hoping your friend will pop out of one of them.

Then a bike slowed down, enough to just pass by, pulling in right in front of your car. You almost think you’ve gone crazy, the way the leather jacket stretched over the man’s back, helmet a dark enough red that it looked black until he steps into the light, it too much like him.

“I have a gun.” You warn as he turns to face you. Black shirt under the jacket as he holds his hands up defensively, taking a few more steps to stand right under the light, slowly moving his hands to grab his helmet, there’s a click of a advance mechanism that you’re all too familiar with and then, the light graces his face.

Jason’s aged, not much but, of course, it’s been far too many years since you’d seen him. And if not for his unique white hair strip, the scars the dig deep into his cheek are far too recognisable, the ‘J’ accompanied by newer shallower ones he’d accumulated in his time away from you.

He watches you back as you profile him, your face, your posture, the way you carried yourself has changed. Life had obviously had taken its toll on you, you’d matured in the way your face was set, a blossom of pride in his chest as you follow what he’d thought you years ago, with the gun and it’s probably the same one he gave you.

“Just me, sweetheart.”

Jason’s voice goes down like a glass of whiskey, deep and smooth but burns all too close to your heart. He tilts his head to the side, gauging your reaction, mistaking your surprise for caution. You avert your eyes, looking back at your car, hand moving off the gun to smooth down a nonexistent wrinkle on your jacket.

You nod, one quick dip of your chin, allowing him to come closer to you, gentleman as always. You watch as he walks back a moment to drop his helmet back onto the bike as you survey your surroundings again, looking for watchful eyes or jittery bodies.

It’s been a long time, a little longer than half a decade, even in a city as small as Gotham, it was easy not running into him, especially when he avoided you religiously. Sometimes, when you felt a conspiracist, you could swear you saw a certain vigilante with a taste for the color red in your proximity, following you like a guardian angel in the night.

The time you had with Jason was phenomenal, the best of the best. No matter how broken he was, or you were, the two of you worked. Even when secrets came out, you were with him, a stubborn stick in the ground that didn’t budge in the toughest storm, you stayed with him. But his mind got to him, when the dangers got too apparent, when he realised the way his identity could hurt the one good thing in his life, he broke things off, no matter how you tried to make him understand.

After that, the city went back to being its same glum self. The streets were back to feeling grim and lifeless, bookstores lacked luster that he brought. He’ll always be the one that got away, the one you thought you’d spend the rest of your life with.

He avoided you with all his might, did everything not to associate himself with you. But he always lingered. Flowers that appeared out of thin air on days he knew were too tough for you. Gifts on every birthday that sit on the windowsill as a constant reminder, special edition of your favourite books being shipped from an ‘anonymous’ benefactor.

“Why are you standing here? It’s not safe.”

His voice snaps you out of your head, your eyes flying back to him who’s walking to you in slow steps, like he’s trying not to spook you. It’s not long before he’s standing in front of you, unintentionally imposing presence that made your chest tight with emotion.

“Not leaving my car by herself.” You whisper finally, Head craning up to look at him. The light was hitting him in a way that deepened his scars, but his eyes twinkled all that same, just the way they used to years ago “Stubborn as always.” He mutters under his breath as he shakes his head in disapproval. He looks down at your car, the one you’re standing guard for, jutting his chin in its direction. “What’s wrong?”

“The coolant system broke, it’s leaking.”

You cross your arms around your chest like it’ll shield you from the extended heartbreak you’re going to experience from this interaction. You watch as you walks past you, close enough that his jacket brushes yours, and to your car. He moves quickly, popping the hood of your car, leaning down to look into the contents of your engine.

You watch his shoulder move as he works, the jacket spreading across his back does nothing to hide the muscular frame underneath. He’d finally grown into his body, moving with more grace than you remember. It somehow felt like he was taller, or maybe your mind was exaggerating your vision, biceps and thighs definitely larger than you remember, consistent with what you’d expect for Red Hood.

You watch as Jason comes to the same conclusion, just nodding his head in agreement.

“Someone I know is coming to help me out.” You call out to break the silence, the sound of a vehicle crashing somewhere in the distance echos as he looks back at you. You watch as he, not so subtly, glances down at both your hands, obviously noting the lack of a wedding ring. Which is odd, since he probably already knows that you aren’t in a relationship, haven’t been in a solid once since him.

“Take my bike back home, I’ll wait here for him.”

You scoff, loudly and dramatically. If there was one thing about Jason, it’s that no one gets to touch that bike of his. It’s tuned to his exact specs, something he doesn’t think anyone else is capable of driving. But now, after all these years of avoiding you, breaking your heart, he’s offering for you to drive off in his bike?

“Her.” You correct. “And why aren’t you…” You pause for a moment to conjure the right word. The moon gleaming weakly through the dark clouds above is a sign that the vigilantes are going to come crawling out of their caves, literally. So why wasn’t Red Hood out terrorising bad guys. “Working?”

“I was riding down to Bludhaven to help Dick with something.” His reply is smooth, ever patient as he straightens up, closing the hood of your car but still lingering around it, mimicking your stance as he crosses his arms too, looking like a stand off to any bystander.“Convenient.” You comment.

There’s a deep sigh in your chest at the subsequent silence. What exactly are you two supposed to talk about? “Fuck it.” You mutter as you uncross your hands and dive into your jacket pocket, pulling out a cigarette packet and…shit. The only lighter you have is the one you got as a couples set when the two of you were still together, you thought it was an amazing gift, two lighters that match up when next to each other to depict both sides of wings engraved on them.

You make a split second decision to pull it out anyway, not missing the slight change in Jason’s posture, the way his eyes widen slightly, shoulders getting just a tab bit more rigid. Your finger runs over your name engraved on its bottom before you flip it open, bringing it to your mouth to light to cigarette nested between your lips.

Jason was a smoker, had been for a long time, and years ago, you weren’t. You had just thought that the lighters was a nice thing to have even though you didn’t smoke. But after the break up, you found one of Jason’s packs lying around your place and you had an itch, you lit one, maybe to feel closer to him somehow, but it soon became a proper habit, like for most people in Gotham.

“Those things will kill you.” Jason quips up, something you used to tease him with. you hold the cigarette between your pointer and middle finger, pulling it away to blow smoke into the night sky. Your eyebrows scrunch involuntarily, the words leaving your mouth before you can think twice about them. “So does flinging yourself at villains.”

“It did.” Jason jokes as the tip of his lips twitches, his eyes cast down to the pavement, expression as something you couldn’t quite decipher. He looks back up to watch utter horror pass on your features, a soft gasp when you realise what you said. “Shit—I didn’t meant to.” You say too quickly, genuinely apologetic.

“‘S alright.” Jason shakes his head softly, he knows you’d never make light of his previous death, something it too a long time for him to open up to you about. You open your mouth to apologise again, but he dismisses it with another shake of his head.

The same silence from before settles again, now you can’t even look him in the eyes. You’re smoking the same brand that he used to, the same one he had to change out of because it reminded him of you too much. His half of the lighter pair sits comfortably in the drawer next to his bed, something he doesn’t carry around for the risk of losing or damaging it, something he takes out to reminisce, give him a moment to relive how it was before he fucked it all up.

“How’s…Artemis?”

You utter out impulsively, regretting it immediately. Artemis was Jason’s ex, before the two of you dated, and there were always rumours that Red Hood had gotten with her again over the years. However ‘healed’ you were, you never could resist looking up the tabloids. And for fucks sake, why on earth are you asking him that?

The question catches him off guard too, you were never insecure in your relationship all those years ago and you knew Artemis was just a friend, a coworker, whatever label you want to slap on it, but just that. After you…he could never even consider someone else. It takes him a moment to get his gears, side of his lips now threatening to stretch into a smirk.

“Just be direct, c’mon. Ask me if I’m single.” Jason clocks his head to one side, a twinkle lit behind his eyes.

Just as you were about to roll your eyes, a familiar car approaching steals your attention as you wave to your friend. Jason watches as you walk past him as the car pulls up right behind yours, a smile stretching across your face in greeting that he didn’t get. Jason turns, slow steps back to his bike, just hoping you’d stop him…ask him to…stay?

“Who’s that?” Your friend asks as she gets out of her car, eyeing the man she’s never seen before as he walks back to his bike. You look back at him, watching his figure receding into the darkness, not looking back. You take another drag of the cigarette, blowing out the smoke and taking a moment to soak in the interaction before you answer.

“Someone I used to know.”

ᯓ★'s P.S. notice how the first half of this is better? yeah i wrote that aaaages ago, i did my dialogue thing and forgot about this and now filled in the rest so i apologise if the flow of it is missing and its not that great

don't forget to comment and reblog if you enjoyed!

← ゛masterlist ⸝⸝.ᐟ⋆

Being stranded on the side of the highway in Gotham city in the middle of the night could be one of the worst scenarios anyone could possibly imagine, a million different things that could happen but you didn’t really have a choice. Your beloved car, one that restored from literally barebones, broke down on you, engine sputtering and dying on you, thankfully you were able to pull off to the side of the highway before it gave out completely.

You called someone you knew, a mechanic that helped you through the restoration but she wouldn’t be here for an half hour at least, and you couldn’t leave your baby here by herself, in this city? Goodness not! So here you were, waiting beside here patiently as the street lap above you flickered every few minutes, watching as cars pass by, hoping your friend will pop out of one of them.

Then a bike slowed down, enough to just pass by, pulling in right in front of your car. You almost think you’ve gone crazy, the way the leather jacket stretched over the man’s back, helmet a dark enough red that it looked black until he steps into the light, it too much like him.

“I have a gun.” You warn as he turns to face you. Black shirt under the jacket as he holds his hands up defensively, taking a few more steps to stand right under the light, slowly moving his hands to grab his helmet, there’s a click of a advance mechanism that you’re all too familiar with and then, the light graces his face.

Jason’s aged, not much but, of course, it’s been far too many years since you’d seen him. And if not for his unique white hair strip, the scars the dig deep into his cheek are far too recognisable, the ‘J’ accompanied by newer shallower ones he’d accumulated in his time away from you.

He watches you back as you profile him, your face, your posture, the way you carried yourself has changed. Life had obviously had taken its toll on you, you’d matured in the way your face was set, a blossom of pride in his chest as you follow what he’d thought you years ago, with the gun and it’s probably the same one he gave you.

“Just me, sweetheart.”

Jason’s voice goes down like a glass of whiskey, deep and smooth but burns all too close to your heart. He tilts his head to the side, gauging your reaction, mistaking your surprise for caution. You avert your eyes, looking back at your car, hand moving off the gun to smooth down a nonexistent wrinkle on your jacket.

You nod, one quick dip of your chin, allowing him to come closer to you, gentleman as always. You watch as he walks back a moment to drop his helmet back onto the bike as you survey your surroundings again, looking for watchful eyes or jittery bodies.

It’s been a long time, a little longer than half a decade, even in a city as small as Gotham, it was easy not running into him, especially when he avoided you religiously. Sometimes, when you felt a conspiracist, you could swear you saw a certain vigilante with a taste for the color red in your proximity, following you like a guardian angel in the night.

The time you had with Jason was phenomenal, the best of the best. No matter how broken he was, or you were, the two of you worked. Even when secrets came out, you were with him, a stubborn stick in the ground that didn’t budge in the toughest storm, you stayed with him. But his mind got to him, when the dangers got too apparent, when he realised the way his identity could hurt the one good thing in his life, he broke things off, no matter how you tried to make him understand.

After that, the city went back to being its same glum self. The streets were back to feeling grim and lifeless, bookstores lacked luster that he brought. He’ll always be the one that got away, the one you thought you’d spend the rest of your life with.

He avoided you with all his might, did everything not to associate himself with you. But he always lingered. Flowers that appeared out of thin air on days he knew were too tough for you. Gifts on every birthday that sit on the windowsill as a constant reminder, special edition of your favourite books being shipped from an ‘anonymous’ benefactor.

“Why are you standing here? It’s not safe.”

His voice snaps you out of your head, your eyes flying back to him who’s walking to you in slow steps, like he’s trying not to spook you. It’s not long before he’s standing in front of you, unintentionally imposing presence that made your chest tight with emotion.

“Not leaving my car by herself.” You whisper finally, Head craning up to look at him. The light was hitting him in a way that deepened his scars, but his eyes twinkled all that same, just the way they used to years ago “Stubborn as always.” He mutters under his breath as he shakes his head in disapproval. He looks down at your car, the one you’re standing guard for, jutting his chin in its direction. “What’s wrong?”

“The coolant system broke, it’s leaking.”

You cross your arms around your chest like it’ll shield you from the extended heartbreak you’re going to experience from this interaction. You watch as you walks past you, close enough that his jacket brushes yours, and to your car. He moves quickly, popping the hood of your car, leaning down to look into the contents of your engine.

You watch his shoulder move as he works, the jacket spreading across his back does nothing to hide the muscular frame underneath. He’d finally grown into his body, moving with more grace than you remember. It somehow felt like he was taller, or maybe your mind was exaggerating your vision, biceps and thighs definitely larger than you remember, consistent with what you’d expect for Red Hood.

You watch as Jason comes to the same conclusion, just nodding his head in agreement.

“Someone I know is coming to help me out.” You call out to break the silence, the sound of a vehicle crashing somewhere in the distance echos as he looks back at you. You watch as he, not so subtly, glances down at both your hands, obviously noting the lack of a wedding ring. Which is odd, since he probably already knows that you aren’t in a relationship, haven’t been in a solid once since him.

“Take my bike back home, I’ll wait here for him.”

You scoff, loudly and dramatically. If there was one thing about Jason, it’s that no one gets to touch that bike of his. It’s tuned to his exact specs, something he doesn’t think anyone else is capable of driving. But now, after all these years of avoiding you, breaking your heart, he’s offering for you to drive off in his bike?

“Her.” You correct. “And why aren’t you…” You pause for a moment to conjure the right word. The moon gleaming weakly through the dark clouds above is a sign that the vigilantes are going to come crawling out of their caves, literally. So why wasn’t Red Hood out terrorising bad guys. “Working?”

“I was riding down to Bludhaven to help Dick with something.” His reply is smooth, ever patient as he straightens up, closing the hood of your car but still lingering around it, mimicking your stance as he crosses his arms too, looking like a stand off to any bystander.“Convenient.” You comment.

There’s a deep sigh in your chest at the subsequent silence. What exactly are you two supposed to talk about? “Fuck it.” You mutter as you uncross your hands and dive into your jacket pocket, pulling out a cigarette packet and…shit. The only lighter you have is the one you got as a couples set when the two of you were still together, you thought it was an amazing gift, two lighters that match up when next to each other to depict both sides of wings engraved on them.

You make a split second decision to pull it out anyway, not missing the slight change in Jason’s posture, the way his eyes widen slightly, shoulders getting just a tab bit more rigid. Your finger runs over your name engraved on its bottom before you flip it open, bringing it to your mouth to light to cigarette nested between your lips.

Jason was a smoker, had been for a long time, and years ago, you weren’t. You had just thought that the lighters was a nice thing to have even though you didn’t smoke. But after the break up, you found one of Jason’s packs lying around your place and you had an itch, you lit one, maybe to feel closer to him somehow, but it soon became a proper habit, like for most people in Gotham.

“Those things will kill you.” Jason quips up, something you used to tease him with. you hold the cigarette between your pointer and middle finger, pulling it away to blow smoke into the night sky. Your eyebrows scrunch involuntarily, the words leaving your mouth before you can think twice about them. “So does flinging yourself at villains.”

“It did.” Jason jokes as the tip of his lips twitches, his eyes cast down to the pavement, expression as something you couldn’t quite decipher. He looks back up to watch utter horror pass on your features, a soft gasp when you realise what you said. “Shit—I didn’t meant to.” You say too quickly, genuinely apologetic.

“‘S alright.” Jason shakes his head softly, he knows you’d never make light of his previous death, something it too a long time for him to open up to you about. You open your mouth to apologise again, but he dismisses it with another shake of his head.

The same silence from before settles again, now you can’t even look him in the eyes. You’re smoking the same brand that he used to, the same one he had to change out of because it reminded him of you too much. His half of the lighter pair sits comfortably in the drawer next to his bed, something he doesn’t carry around for the risk of losing or damaging it, something he takes out to reminisce, give him a moment to relive how it was before he fucked it all up.

“How’s…Artemis?”

You utter out impulsively, regretting it immediately. Artemis was Jason’s ex, before the two of you dated, and there were always rumours that Red Hood had gotten with her again over the years. However ‘healed’ you were, you never could resist looking up the tabloids. And for fucks sake, why on earth are you asking him that?

The question catches him off guard too, you were never insecure in your relationship all those years ago and you knew Artemis was just a friend, a coworker, whatever label you want to slap on it, but just that. After you…he could never even consider someone else. It takes him a moment to get his gears, side of his lips now threatening to stretch into a smirk.

“Just be direct, c’mon. Ask me if I’m single.” Jason clocks his head to one side, a twinkle lit behind his eyes.

Just as you were about to roll your eyes, a familiar car approaching steals your attention as you wave to your friend. Jason watches as you walk past him as the car pulls up right behind yours, a smile stretching across your face in greeting that he didn’t get. Jason turns, slow steps back to his bike, just hoping you’d stop him…ask him to…stay?

“Who’s that?” Your friend asks as she gets out of her car, eyeing the man she’s never seen before as he walks back to his bike. You look back at him, watching his figure receding into the darkness, not looking back. You take another drag of the cigarette, blowing out the smoke and taking a moment to soak in the interaction before you answer.

“Someone I used to know.”

ᯓ★'s P.S. notice how the first half of this is better? yeah i wrote that aaaages ago, i did my dialogue thing and forgot about this and now filled in the rest so i apologise if the flow of it is missing and its not that great

don't forget to comment and reblog if you enjoyed!

← ゛masterlist ⸝⸝.ᐟ⋆