#dc angst

plot! joker kidnaps you, jason's girlfriend, and take his revenge on jason and the bats. he wants to see jason suffer and after all he's gone through, his only weak spot now is you. 7,2k words

warnings: contains violence, torture, kidnapping, mention of blood and injuries. real angst with happy ending. hurt/comfort. don't read if uncomfortable!

a/n: thanks for the request sweetie i love angst and my poor boy's been through so much. hope y'all enjoy!

part two

The Joker had been watching Jason Todd for weeks.

Not in the obvious way, no flashing teeth in the alleys, no maniacal laughter echoing across rooftops. No, Joker was smarter than that when it came to the Bats.

He knew how to get under the skin of the family. And Jason Todd, oh, Jason… the boy with too much fire in him, the one who came back from death with scars so deep they bled through every word he spoke.

Joker didn’t need to kill him again.

No, no, no. He needed to make him remember.

And when Joker learned about you, Jason’s girlfriend, the one he hadn’t exactly paraded around but hadn’t exactly hidden either, it was like a gift wrapped in bloodstained ribbon. You weren’t famous, not a cape, not a cop, not someone with the city at your back. Just someone Jason had let too close. Joker knew the type: quiet, grounded, the kind of person who looked at Jason and didn’t see Robin or a mistake, but a man worth loving.

The perfect target.

It started on an ordinary night. You left Jason’s apartment after a rare evening in: Chinese takeout containers stacked on the coffee table, his jacket tossed over the arm of the couch. He’d kissed you hard at the door, that mix of reckless affection and unspoken apology for every bruise he carried.

You didn’t see the white van until it was too late.

The alley shortcut, the one Jason always told you not to take, had been baited.

A flicker of movement—then the strike.

A rag reeking of chemicals pressed over your mouth. Struggling, scratching, the burn of chloroform in your lungs.

The last thing you saw before the dark took you was a painted smile glowing in the shadows.

When you woke, it wasn’t in a cell. It was worse.

An abandoned amusement park, long condemned, half-eaten by rust. The Joker’s stage. You were tied to a chair bolted to the cracked concrete floor of an old funhouse. The air smelled of mold, iron, and greasepaint. The lights flickered, casting warped reflections in shattered mirrors.

And then you heard him.

“Rise and shine, sweetheart!” Joker’s voice sang from the darkness. He clapped his hands, the sound echoing sharp and hollow. “Oh, don’t look so gloomy. You’re the guest of honor! Well—second guest. The real star of the show will be along soon enough.”

You tried to speak, but the gag cut into your mouth. Blood tickled your tongue where it rubbed raw against your teeth.

Joker leaned in close, his breath sour with chemicals. His painted smile stretched unnaturally wide.

“Now, now. Don’t waste your strength. You’ll need it when your lover boy arrives. See, I thought about just sending him a card, maybe a gift basket. But our Jason doesn’t deserve a Hallmark moment. No, no. He deserves a memory. One that sticks. One that hurts. And trust me, this is going to hurt"

And it began with the crowbar. Of course it did.

i took your 'or smth' to heart:') and i changed this request a biiiit

for my peace of mind there's no established relationships, only fwb situations, and so i might've made them extra toxic bc of that (and automatically a bit ooc)

*✩‧₊˚ THEY'RE FRUSTRATED AND TAKE IT OUT ON YOU/CALL YOU CLINGY

YOU CAN FIND PART TWO HERE

TEXTS starring Dick, Jason, Roy, Wally, Bruce, Hal

cw: gn!reader, FWB situationships, they're extra mean/toxic in this one, a bit ooc, swearing, angst

── ★ ˙🛋️ ‧₊˚ a day in the life with . . .⠀╱⠀dick grayson ᵎᵎ

a sprinkle of 🐇 ⋆˚꩜｡ they're basically married, living together and still somehow pining.. stupidly in love and annoyingly cute about it. romcom energy!!! mutual obsession, love as competition (they're both winning), domestic fluff, he fell first but she fell sideways and hit her head LMAO anddd soft!dick grayson + clingy!dick grayson basically

a love letter⠀❤︎⠀all of these r in order like a lil ditl convo with dick !!! timestamps included for realism and bc im a professional (lie) making these are lowkey so corny but whateva we move onnnnn 😭😭

✿﹕ ︵︵ ✧₊ ︵︵ ꕤ₊˚ ࿐ ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝ ♡ ﹕ɞ

.ᐟ All that remains of BRUCE WAYNE’S daughter is everything she left behind: her belongings, her room, and a diary no one knew existed. And inside of it, she's still there, alive—in ink, in pages, and in quiet entries.

.ᐟ CONTENT: OOC (?), angst, implied character death, neglected batsis!reader, sunshine!reader, kinda damian centered, grief, post-death wc: 2.3k

.ᐟ a/n: ty all sm for 1k+ followers! <3 :D srry if i didn't include every1 in the batfam, it was easier for me dis way. and i didnt want to mischaracterize them.

The ride home from the funeral was painfully silent save for the soft tapping of rain on the fogged up window and some light jazz playing on the radio, just loud enough so the silence doesn't drive anyone crazy or swallow everyone whole.

No one spoke. No one dared to.

Never used to death || Bruce wayne x reader (+ platonic!batfam)

— Bruce Wayne had lost a lot of people in his life, but nothing compares to you, in any way. or your ex-husband and children don't know how to react to your death.

!!: HEAVY ANGST no comfort. major character death. gn!reader. batparent!reader. no use of y/n. English is not my first language. 906 words.

[dc masterlist]

You weren’t going to come back.

But Bruce couldn’t accept that reality.

He had lost too much during his life. He had lost his parents right before his eyes. He had lost Jason by The Joker. He had lost Alfred. And now, he had lost you too.

This was not like previous times, back when you both decided that getting a divorce was better than having to deal with each other’s grief after losing your second son.

Back when you came back for the first time, because you didn’t want to let down Tim, and still left some years after because things between Bruce and you weren’t the same anymore and your relationship wasn’t working.

You came back for a second time. This time was the final one. You were going to stay. Because you loved your children, and because Bruce had changed for good and he was still the man you loved with every fiber of your heart, and he loved you with the same intensity. You couldn’t give up on him.

But now it was all gone and you weren’t going to come back. 

This was not like the last two times, because during those breaks he saw you. He heard the news about you. He saw your face in the cover of magazines almost daily; and it broke him every time, seeing you looking like a literal angel, but without ‘Wayne’ on your name. 

Because you were once his, and now you weren’t even yours. 

Dick had been the one who found him first. In the middle of Robinson Park. Holding your broken and cold body against his chest, warm and alive. Your blood engulfing his arms, impregnating his suit like a memory, a statement. You will always be with him, the permanent stain that would never go away, the ghost that would haunt him until the end of his days, like Bruce Wayne didn’t have enough ghosts. 

You hadn’t left him by choice that night; you had left by chance. You had died—brutally tortured and murdered by the Joker—and reporters had been forced to televise it.

Bruce’s mind kept repeating—like a broken mantra—how this was his fault. Not Dick’s, because he never got to arrive on time. Not Jason’s, who unfollowed every rule just to get to you, but Poison Ivy got him first. Not Tim’s, nor Damian’s. Or Cass, or Steph, or Duke. Not even Barbara, who was crying of frustration, while trying, without success, to end your death’s livestream. 

It was all Bruce’s fault. 

He hated himself. He could save a million people, but never the ones he loved. Never his parents. Never his son. Never the man who had stayed with him since the very beginning of his life. Never the love of his life.

Dick didn’t hug Bruce that night. He froze on his spot the moment his feet touched the ground. The sight in front of him felt unreal, and it shattered every nerve of his body. Overwhelmed by anger and sadness he just stood there, with a blank expression.

Tim commanded the others to return to the cave, while he watched the interaction from a distance. 

Everything had stopped that night. Your heartbeat. Bruce’s life. Gotham streets were silent for once—traumaticed by the event. 

It wasn’t until Jason arrived that the clock started ticking again. 

“I will kill that bastard.” He said. And for once, Bruce didn’t scold him, he chose silence. He chose to stay those very last moments he had with your body in silence.

Not because he needed time, but because your two sons needed you and didn’t know how to show except through their mere presence. 

Dick didn’t move an inch. He didn’t talk, or breathe properly. He was just taking in the sight. This was definitely not the first time he’d lost a parent, but it was the most crude one. 

On the other hand, Jason. Oh, your sweet Jason. The one who swore he didn't cry, at least not in front of people, let the first tear fall from his eyes. He cried in silence, the loudest silence anyone had ever witnessed. 

And from above, Tim made his appearance, falling right next to Bruce, next to you. 

Your three boys, all there for you, for your death. And Bruce—the man who would have moved heaven and earth just for you, to see you happy, to try again, to have you back—was holding your lifeless body like delicate flowers—because he knew you could shatter this time if he held you tighter. 

The four men mourning your loss. 

And in the batcave Barbara cried, Cass cried while Steph, trying to hold her tears, hugged her. Duke waited, he waited for Bruce to come back with you, just so he could thank you and say goodbye to you one last time. 

And Damian. He had left the batcave. In between bouts of weeping, he had made his way up to the manor, to his father’s room—your room. He got under the covers and just waited. He waited for you to come back.

Damian Wayne Al Ghul. The son of an assassin, the boy who had been trained to kill, the one who understood death better than anyone. He stayed under the covers, waiting patiently for you to arrive home—radiant and alive—and kiss him goodnight. Your strange habit he swore he hated was now his deepest desire. 

So he waited. But you never came.

© llovelygood

A/N: everybody say thank you to my toxic ex for giving me all this sadness. Hope you guys liked this. As always reblogs and comments are appreciated 🫶🏻

✎⠀⠀pairing ⦂ damian wayne x reader l 2.1k words.

࿐ synposis ⦂ when damian wayne quietly dismantles himself trying to be the person he thinks you want. you find yourself drifting from a stranger wearing his face until the real him finally returns for answers.

꒰꒰ involving contents ⦂ reader x platonic!jason todd, wayne manor setting, established relationship, emotional miscommunication and withdrawal, mild angst, fear of abandonment, soft solution at the end.

masterlist . . . . . ↷

the very thing about damian wayne was that he never tried to be anything other than exactly what he was. that was one out of a million, in regards to what you had loved most about him... though, past tense felt wrong. you weren't sure when you had started thinking in past tense.

back then, it was a small notice, that you almost missed it three weeks ago.

you had been sitting across from him in the manor's sitting room, venting. the little details didn't matter now... but, it was something about a friend group falling out, the usual social wreck of being a teen, just like him. damian had been listening with his arms crossed and his jaw crushed, tight, like it was the only way for your words to come through.

...and then you said something... something you hadn't even meant in the slightest as an offhand throwaway, in the moment... 'bout how sometimes you wished he'd just agree with you instead of immediately trying to argue a counterargument.

you soon moved on, changed the talking subject and forgot about it by the time alfred came in, with tea.

well, damian hadn't forgotten.

the first sign came unannounced. thrown at you as something for you to rationalise... quite in between, damian stopped pushing back.

you spoke your casual comments at dinner, in the manor. his whole family was there, a different kind of chaos in itself. you trailed on to share with the table, about a documentary you both watched, together. you had gotten a detail wrong, knowing you had even as you said it... your mouth spilling out before your brain could catch up.

you waited for that favoured voice. for damian to correct you before you could even finish your sentence. just a simple, that's factually inaccurate, the study you're likely referencing shows the exact opposite, in his insufferable delivery. after months of dating, you got used to it; his way of soundlessly saying, I'm paying attention to everything you say.

now, you couldn't even bring yourself to react, when all he did was nod, once, like you were... right?! you stared him down shockingly, and he kept his gaze to his plate.

dick, seated two chairs down, had glanced between the two of you like he knew something... you left it at that, by choosing to not say anything, but carry on with dinner.

again, it happened, four days later.

you and damian were in the manor library, focused on completing homework, in either conversation or the comfortable silence you'd built together over the better part of a year. his knee was pressed to yours. his annotated copies were open on the table in front of him but he was yet to turn a page.

you brought something up. a plan for the weekend... something small, like a farmer's market in the city you'd been wanting to drag him to. in order for that to happen, damian needed to tolerate crowds and enthusiasm, neither of which were his strong suits.

"that sounds fine," he said. you lowered your pencil.

fine. damian wayne didn't say fine. damian wayne would have said, that's a forty minute drive for something we could visit locally or I fail to see the appeal or... on his better days, if you want to go, we'll go, tenderly choosing you over his judgement.

fine was a nothing word, one he used when he didn't care enough to have an opinion.

"alright," you dragged the word out, suspicious.

"Is there a problem?"

"no." you snatched your pencil back up. "... no problem at all."

after that, you had no clue what changed and why it felt so wrong to be around him in that instant, you simply found yourself reading the same paragraph over and over without absorbing any of it.

by the end of the second week, you knew something was definitely wrong. he was agreeable to every little thing you said or did, leaving his challenging nature behind.

he was doing everything for you, like you weren't capable; which the real damian would have never treated you anything lesser. he was asking your opinion on every little thing, like he wasn't capable of thinking on his own... laughing at things that weren't quite funny enough to earn it, and so on.

he looked like himself from a distance, but felt, up close, like a two dimensional photograph.

... and the worst part was that you had no idea what you meant. when you tried to pin down the feeling, it melted, 'cause with example, he was being a good boyfriend. so attentive, and doing everything you told him to do, without questioning, like a mindless minion.

and yet you found yourself, without really deciding to, spending less time in the rooms he was in.

you spoke to yourself, saying it wasn't intentional. you had homework. you had a call with your mother. you were tired. each reason was true enough to go by.

jason todd noticed before anyone said anything.

he caught you in the kitchen on a wednesday, pouring out a drink you didn't particularly need.

"you and damian have a fight, no?" he asked.

"no." you amended.

"huh." he looked unconvinced. "he's been weird."

"damian's always weird, there's no one like him."

"different weird." jason took a sip of his freshly made drink. "like... trying weird. you know better than anyone, how he gets when he's trying to prove something?"

you always knew, really well, matter of fact. you'd seen it in his training, in his interactions with bruce, in his determination to come out ahead. your relentless, grinding, pride-driven boy was just so...

"I don't know what he'd be trying to prove to me," you said.

"sure," jason gave you a long, hard look. "I want you to know I'm not getting involved,"

"great," you said. "I so believe you right now..."

"but just to let you know... whatever he's doing, he's doing it because he's scared. which is a new experience for him, so he's handling it with all the grace you'd expect."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"you sure you didn't say anything, a few weeks ago. I wasn't there, but I'm trying to piece it together with what dick told me. but damian took it seriously and now he's..." jason paused, choosing his words. "... overcorrecting."

"I didn't ask him to change."

"I know that. my brother doesn't." he ended with, pushing off the counter to leave alone with your thoughts. "I'm not involved..."

the drift was now impossible to ignore by day sixteen.

you ate dinner in the kitchen instead of with his family twice. you shut down his offer, when damian appeared at the library's door. you answered his texts, one-worded.

...and, well the newly, sanded down damian had accepted each of your draw backs with patience... so unlike him it made your chest hurt.

the real damian would have said something by now; would have shown up at whatever room you were in and planted himself in front of you, demanding to know what was happening between you. he would have been so annoying about it, that he couldn't even go on with his day, without knowing if what you had was okay... oh, the real him would have been too much.

you really missed his version of too much.

damian seeked you out on a sunday, finally.

you were in your room... gradually a gifted room at the manor somewhere around the six-month mark of your relationship... and you were sat cross-legged on the bed with your headphones on, flipping through the sketch book he left behind.

all that historically meaning I am unavailable in every language spoken in the wayne manor. he knocked away…

you pulled one side of the headphones off. "yeah?"

opening the door, he stood in the frame. in civilian clothes, his hair was slightly disheveled for you to notice he had been in the training room. but most of all, he was glaring at you with an expression you hadn't seen in two weeks… very, very tired and frustrated.

"I need you to tell me what I've done," he said.

the real version of him with its demand was back… the refusal to approach anything sideways.

you set the sketchbook aside. "you haven't done anything."

"you’ve really proved that to be false, these past days." he stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. "you've been avoiding me for over two weeks. I've attempted every approach I can think of and each one..." he stopped, brows frowning. "you keep retreating. and I can't..." another stop, too much emotion within for him. "I need to understand what I've done wrong."

"I said you haven't done anything wrong."

"then why does it feel like I'm losing you?"

the question landed hard in its vulnerability. then somewhere inside you finally found words. "because I don't know who I'm losing," you said. "that's the problem. I don't recognize you right now."

he went very rigid. "... explain."

"you've been ..." you struggled for it. "you've been agreeable, dami. you nodded when I said something wrong at dinner. you called my farmer's market plan fine. you've been laughing at things that aren't funny and you keep... you keep asking my opinion on things you'd normally just decide and then do, 'cause that's who you are, and I don't..." your voice cracked slightly on the last word, but you pressed forward through it. "I don't want that. I never asked for that."

his face moved. "you said you wanted me to agree with you more. several weeks ago. you said..."

"I said it once when I was frustrated and I didn't mean it as a permanent character flaw," your words came faster now. "I was venting. I say things when I vent, damian, and I didn't need you to go away and restructure yourself based on one thing i said in the heat of the moment. I need you to be… I need you to be you. the actual you. who argues with me and corrects me when I'm wrong and has opinions that can’t be changed and sometimes makes me want to throw something because you're so frustratingly certain about everything…"

"so you’re telling me," he began, "that you've been pulling away from me because I was attempting to accommodate you."

"well, the person I was trying to accommodate looked wrong, so maybe," you said. "I didn't know why it felt wrong, I just knew it did, and then jason said…"

"jason," damian repeated, his expression shifted and that's when you knew a promised a future conversation with his brother was about to happen.

"don't. he helped." you tucked your knees up. "dami. I don't want you to be less of what you are. I want… " you struggled. "I started dating you because you're the most infuriating and genuinely yourself person I've ever met. you've never performed anything. you don't know how to perform anything. that's…" your voice went soft. "that's rare. do you understand how rare that is?"

"I only…" damian started. "I was concerned that I was…" his lips twisted, thinking. "you’re the only person outside of this family whose opinion of me I have been consistently unable to stay indifferent to. I thought…"

"you thought I wanted you softer."

"I thought I was too much," he said, making your chest ache.

"you're never too much," you replied. "you're just, exactly the right amount of too much."

"that doesn't even make sense."

"there you are…"

damian padded across the room and sat on the edge of the bed, close enough that your knee kissed against his hip.

"I shouldn’t have assumed based on incomplete information. It was… " a brief, visible struggle for the right word. "… foolish."

"It was really unlike you," you agreed.

"I was… scared," was clearly not a word that came naturally from him. "I didn't want to lose you."

"I know." you reached over and took his hand. he allowed it, these small casual claims. "but if I were to ever leave, I'll tell you directly. I'm not a drift-away person."

"you were drifting."

"I was confused. there's a difference." you leaned sideways until your shoulder found his. "and now I'm not."

silence… and then, "the farmer's market plan was objectively never going to work out."

"I know."

"forty three minutes of driving for something that…"

"damian."

"… that could be found in an area, near the manor..."

"damian." you tilted your head to look at him. he was looking back, admiring what he had. "thank you."

he didn't ask what for, he just understood. "don't mention it," his thumb traced once across your knuckles, absentminded.

"next time," he whispered, "tell me sooner."

"next time," you corrected, "don't try to be someone you're not."

"agreed," damian answered to you, and it sounded nothing like fine, but like himself.

mentions: soulmates au (red string), tension, forced proximity ish?, confession, blood, tension, vulnerability from jason obvi, soft makeout sesh at the end, angst with happy ending (i think??) (i think this took me five-six hours to write i lost track help 😭 i just remembered the sun bright when i started this and when i finished it was sunset LMAOAOA but it was worth it)

—————————————————————————

when jason todd was resurrected, the universe didn’t just give him a second chance at life. they also gave him a chance in love. that was why when jason woke up from the waters of the lazarus pit, a red thread was tied on his finger— a thread only he could see

he didn’t need to research the mysterious string on his finger; he’s read too many novels about it. the red string of fate for lovers to find each other, binding them for all of eternity. 

and jason hated that

not because he didn’t want love. but because to him, there was no room for love— not when there was nothing but vengeance and retribution coursing through his veins. and to him, someone like himself wasn’t worth loving

he tried breaking the string with every single possibility he could think of— cutting it, burning it, even shooting it. but unsurprisingly, it didn’t work

jason just told himself not to follow the thread, to think of it as another burden to carry not on his shoulder, but rather wrapped around his finger. he ignored the little tugs and always went the opposite direction as to where the string was leading him, all as his efforts to not meet who was truly behind the end of the string

but no one can escape fate, not even red hood himself

which was why he was now standing in front of you after hearing your cry of help. the two goons that were bothering you were now unconscious and lying on the floor, but both of you weren't focused on them and instead, on the red string on each other’s fingers that was now glowing

“jesus fucking christ” he murmured to himself, already regretting the entire night. this man was exhausted, patrols becoming more tiresome night after night. and finding you— the end of the string— wasn’t on tonight’s bingo card

but the way you were looking at him with pure confusion instead of fear, with that slight hope in your eyes. that was the worst part

jason took a step back automatically, the string stretching with him and highlighting the distance between you two. a frown went on your lips, fingers curling into a small fist. “wait-” “don’t” “don’t what?” don’t look at him like that

jason was silent, clenching his jaw hard enough to ache. you glanced from the red thread back to him. “you know what this means, right?” you said

“yeah, means that the universe has a sick sense of humor” his voice flattened, sounding slightly muffled from the helmet. through the silence, the wind shifted through the alley, carrying the distant sounds of gotham traffic. months of avoiding— years maybe, he’d stop counting— and somehow, fate had the last laugh

“you hurt?” he broke the silence, making your eyebrow slightly lift in surprise by the question. “no” jason nodded silently, glancing at the string one last time before turning back around, shooting his grapple to a rooftop. your eyes immediately widened, already running to him. “wait—“

but it was too late. once the grapple line pulled taut, jason was gone within seconds. only the red thread remained, stretching impossibly far upward into the dark clouds and glowing faintly against the night sky before eventually vanishing somewhere beyond your sight

the red hood— out of everyone in the universe— was your soulmate. and he wanted nothing to do with you

ever since your encounter with him, you couldn’t stop thinking about him— and neither could the string, as it kept pulling you to jason so many times that it became impossible to ignore. 

a tug while walking home from work that led you three streets off your usual route, only to catch a glimpse of a red helmet disappearing across a rooftop. another time was when you felt a pull during a late-night grocery run, your head snapping up just in time to see red hood perched silently on a water tower several buildings away

and every single time the moment jason realized you’d spotted him, he vanished immediately. it was to the fact that he even started changing patrol routes to avoid you, only to see that you somehow ended up near those too

which was why when he met up with you again, jason decided enough was enough

you had been walking home through gotham’s quieter streets when the thread suddenly pulled hard to the left. and then, a gloved hand shot out from the shadows and yanked you into an alley

you gasped, only to freeze when familiar white helmet lenses glared down at you

“okay” jason said, every word dripping from both exhaustion and irritation. “we need to establish some boundaries.” that made you blink up at him in both confusion and shock “did you just... kidnap me to set boundaries?” “i’m serious” “so am i” you felt his eyes staring at you even underneath the helmet, before looking away immediately and clenching his jaw beneath the helmet. “you need to stop showing up everywhere” that made you scoff and cross your arms. “please, its not like im doing it on purpose” you clarified. thanks to the alley being dimly lit from a weak flicker of a street lamp, it caught on the glowing red thread connection you and jason, making it impossible to ignore

“yeah? well the universe seems real commited to ruining my life lately” jason muttered. god, did he hate that damn string— how it always tightened when you got too far away, how it glowed brighter whenever you looked at him too long. but worst of all, he hated how aware of you it made him

you let out a quiet sigh. “you act like i asked for this” you pointed out softly. “i didn’t say you did” “but you keep looking at me like its my fault” jason immediately went silent because you were right— it wasn’t your fault and he knew that. but every time he looked at you, something ugly twisted in his chest. something that felt like fear, frustration, and something dangerously close to longing— and jason todd didn’t know what to do with longing anymore

“you should stay away from me” he voiced with the kind of tone that didn’t invite argument. you hesitated, but still spoke anyway. “and if i dont?”

jason’s head snapped slightly toward you, helmet lenses catching the dim alley light before slowly walking up to you, making you walk back until your back hit concrete. you could basically feel the air thinning from how close he was, the red lenses of his helmet tilting down slightly “don’t test me” he whispered, even and dangerous in a way that wasn’t loud at all. you didn’t respond, you couldnt— not when you could smell the grim off his leather from how close he was

jason took your silence as a yes, now backing off and walking away— just like your first encounter with him

you wanted to stop him, to ask him why he was running away from fate, why he was running away from you. but all you did was just stand there as red hood vanished, staring at where you last spotted him

his words went through your head and that’s when you started to resist the string— not because he threatened you, but because what was the point in being tied with someone who doesn’t want to be tied with you? you resisted the pulls, clenching your hand into a tight fist and turning away from the red thread. you avoided the places where you always interacted with him, ignoring how tightly sharp it felt when you would walk near certain streets

at first, it fought you— hard. 

sharp tugs that made. your wrist ache, the pressure around your finger so tight you were convinced it was going to fall off. but you kept your hand closed around it anyway— not resisting it with force, just refusing to follow

jason noticed your absence in places you should have been, places where he expected a glimpse of you being pulled too close again. but nothing— no sight of you, no nothing

he should be glad, right? you listened to him and for some reason, the string was listening too. so why was guilt forming in his chest?

maybe that guilt was exactly the reason why for the first time since his resurrection, he was now following the string. under his broken helmet, his pants were deep and heavy as one hand held firmly on his side to stop the blood that was gushing out of his wound— what a way to end the night

the only reason why jason was even following the string were two reasons: his safehouse was too far and despite his efforts to drive you away, he wanted to see your face one last time if it meant this was really the end for him— again

he imagined seeing you again more times than he wanted to admit over the past few weeks— you angry at him, or you ignoring him, or you slamming a door in his face after all the shit he said, you get the gist

he landed on your balcony with a thud, a groan of pain leaving his lips. jason’s now visible eye went on your window, open and as if welcoming him in. 

“amazing survival skills” he murmured to himself but nevertheless, entered through the window. the second his boots hit your floor, jason nearly collapsed, catching himself against the wall with a sharp inhale.

his gloved hand pressed harder against the wound at his side, blood seeping between his fingers and dripping steadily onto your hardwood as he glanced down at the mess. at this rate, your security deposit would have already been gone if it were someone else breaking into your apartment

for one second, jason wondered if you weren’t home, taking in how quiet the apartment was— too quiet

until he heard movement, enough for his entire body to automatically tense and his other hand instinctively twitching toward the pistol strapped to his thigh

it wasn’t until you appeared from the hallway and immediately froze in horror from the sight of jason covered in blood and barely able to stand in the middle of your living room. 

“holy shit” you murmured to yourself, eyes going down to the blood pooled beneath his boots. and when you finally snapped out of it, you immediately ran to a nearby cabinet as jason watched you scramble through it with shaky hands, tossing aside random supplies until you finally found a first aid kit shoved near the back

the sight did something uncomfortable to his chest because of how terrified you looked— not of him, for him

“wonder who the fuck would have their window open at night in gotham” he rasped, trying and failing to sound unaffected. 

“shut up” you shot back immediately, voice tight with panic as you rushed back toward him with the med kit in your hands. “why are you even talking right now?” “pretty sure talking is a good sign” “you’re dripping blood on my floor” “yeah, noticed that”

your glare snapped up to him, meeting his visible eye. if you weren’t in such a hurry, you would think as to how pretty and green his eyes were. “this isn’t funny” jason opened his mouth, ready to reply with another sarcastic respond until he saw your expression properly, how your hands were trembling and your eyes— despite the glare— were panicked

the realization hit harder than expected, making his visible eye slowly drop away from yours. “sorry” he muttered. the word sounded foreign coming out of him, making you blink in shock then, you crouched quickly in front of him as you opened the first aid kit with trembling fingers. “sit down before you pass out” “i’m fine” “just sit the fuck down” jason let out a weak breath that almost sounded like a laugh before finally pushing himself off the wall, the movement immediately making pain rip through his side hard enough to blur his vision for a second. “fuck—" you grabbed his arm instantly to steady him and slowly bring him down. the red thread around your fingers flared bright at the contact— both of you noticed it, yet neither of you acknowledged it

once jason was lowered onto the edge of your couch, he slowly took his hand off from his wound and the damage looked worse up close— much worse. blood soaked through the torn fabric near his ribs, dark and heavy. but thankfully, it wasn’t that deep for you to work with-- though you had to make sure your eyes didn’t trail anywhere else because of how jacked he was

and there you were, cleaning up the blood and stitching up the wounds of the man who your fate was tied to— the same man who told you to stay away from him and was now in your apartment

jason’s visible eye was on your hands, watching you stitch up his wound efficiently despite them shaking not too long ago. “you’re good at this” he murmured, ignoring how your touch felt right on his skin “i’d be crazy not to” you responded, eyes fixed on his wound as you didn’t pause.  “this is gotham” “but your crazy to have your window op-" a hiss left jason’s lips when he felt you purposely tighten the stitches to shut him up, making him glare at you while you were looking down at his wound, holding back your laugh

for some reason, that sight was enough for his expression to immediately and the guilt to increase. he was nothing but bad to you, and here you were— stitching him up. “what happened to ‘staying away’?” you broke the silence with a question that lingered quietly in your apartment— too quietly. jason’s eye stayed fixed on your hands for a minute longer before dragging his gaze up to your face— where he could see the exhaustion beneath your own eyes due to fighting the string for weeks

it did nothing but twist the guilt deeper

he was silent, but you didn’t expect an answer from him. you tied off the stitch carefully before reaching for gauze as jason watched you the entire time, an unreadable expression underneath the broken helmet sitting crooked on his head before breaking the silence

“i didn’t have anywhere else to go” your hands on the gauze paused for a second and of course, jason noticed. “safehouse was too far” he continued roughly, like forcing the words out physically hurt him. “and i lost too much blood to make it across the city” “but you still came here” you murmured, slowly looking up at him. jason’s jaw tightened immediately like a silent nod to your words. and as if hearing the entire conversation, the thread around his finger glowed faintly at the question

you both looked at it, then away. once you finished bandaging his wounds, you looked up to take a proper look at his helmet— broken with his right eye and cheekbones visible. 

your hands slowly reached, but they stilled midway the moment you saw him flinch, his eye sharpening on instinct with caution-- like he was waiting for you to pull away the second you saw too much of him your hands turned into a slight fist before slowly lowering them down. “sorry” you murmured in instinct. “i just thought it looked uncomfortable”

silence filled the apartment again and jason stared at you for a long second. you didn’t push or insist, you didn’t ask what was underneath or try to peek past the broken pieces of his helmet. even after weeks of him avoiding you, threatening you, and pushing you away, you were still careful with him 

“… its fine”

“what?” jason hesitated, but slowly— almost painfully slow— he reached up and tapped the cracked edge of his helmet with two fingers. “you can take it off” he said quietly, almost as if he was unsure himself your breath caught slightly. vigilantes protected their identities with their lives, especially red hood— the man with walls so high around himself that even fate itself struggled to climb over them. yet here he was, wounded and exhausted on your couch, giving you permission to see him— really see him

“are you sure?” you asked softly to double check, like he didn’t give you permission. “just—" jason swallowed thickly before looking away from you entirely. “before i change my mind” you reached toward him again but carefully, like he might bolt if you moved too fast. and this time, he didn’t flinch. 

your fingers brushed against the cold material of the helmet. and despite the bruises covering his body, despite the blood loss and exhaustion, the gentlest touch from you still made his entire body tense up

slowly, you lifted the broken helmet from his head. the second it came off completely, jason exhaled sharply as if he had been holding his breath the entire time. and god, you understood immediately why he hid himself so well— not because he was ugly, but because he was the most gorgeous man you've ever laid eyes on

dark hair messy from sweat and rain, a white streak in his hair, bruises painted across sharp cheekbones, slight scars around his face with a J marked on his cheek, a split lip and exhaustion carved deep beneath both green eyes that almost looked unreal this close

jason todd was unfairly beautiful in the most devastating way. but it was the vulnerability of it all that hit the hardest because without the helmet, he looked younger somehow— less like the red hood and more like a man who was simply tired

his gaze flickered nervously across your face, searching for something— anything like disappointment that he was the person you were bound to your whole life, regret even

but all you did was stare at him softly, a look he wasn’t used to getting from anyone you placed the helmet down, eyes tracing over every bruise and scar without flinching once. he looked away, not wanting to see disgust form in your eyes— but it didnt, it never did. instead, your expression softened when you saw jason avoid your eyes

then, he felt your hand against his jaw— gently, carefully— and slowly tilting his face back toward you, his breath caught from how close you were “you know” you whispered softly, eyes flickering between his eyes and lips. “for someone who spent weeks trying to scare me away….” your thumb brushed lightly over the split in his lips before looking up at him. “… you’re really bad at it”

a weak huff of breath almost escaped him, sounding between a laugh and a scoff. “yeah?” he murmured, making you nod with a small smile. “yeah” jason could feel the red thread glowing brighter around his finger, feeling it’s pulse all the way up to his wrist. but for once, it didn’t feel suffocating— it just felt like you his gaze dropped briefly to your lips before immediately darting back to your eyes after catching him. but you noticed it anyway, of course you did “jason” he murmured quietly. “my name is jason.” his voice sounded clearer now that his helmet was off but the roughness was still there to you, red hood’s name, jason, fit him just right. “jason” you murmured back, as if testing it on your tongue and god did that make his heart beat faster you murmured your name back and so did jason, repeating it to you to test it as both of you slowly leaned closer to each other without realizing it. you gave him more than enough time to pull away, but the way he was leaning closer with his eyes on your lips again without realizing gave you all the permission you needed

carefully, you softly press your lips aginst his, and you could feel jason completely freezing

his entire body locked up from your touch like he didn’t know what to do with something so gentle. your lips were warm against his split ones, patient even. you made sure to give him room to pull away if he wanted too

and maybe that was exactly the reason why he slowly kissed you back

a shaky breath escaped through jason’s nose before his hand suddenly came up to your jaw, feeling his rough calloused fingers holding you with a care that felt almost contradictory to everything about him

he leaned into you slowly at first, like he was learning how to do this without expecting it to be taken away. his lips moved against yours carefully despite the sheer intensity behind it and every bit of restraint cracking apart little by little

you let out a soft sound against his mouth and fuck, that sent a shiver down his body, nearly ruining him. he couldn’t focus on the red string that was flaring brighter by each touch, all he could focus on was you

jason’s other hand slid instinctively to your waist, pulling you closer. but the movement made him hiss quietly, remembering the stitches you placed on his sides. despite that, he still didn’t let go— he didn’t want to, anyway. because for the first time since crawling out of the lazarus pit, jason felt warm. alive

both of you slowly— almost reluctantly— pull back just enough to breath, your foreheads resting together as both of you let out small pants. jason’s green eyes stayed half lidded on yours, dazed in a way he would absolutely deny later “.. shit” he whispered weakly, making you blink once out of your trance. “that bad?” a breathless laugh left him, but a real one, quiet and disbelieving as his thumb brushed against your check. “no, and that’s the problem.” before you could comment on that, you caught his gaze dropping briefly from your eyes to your lips and back to your eyes “do that again” he murmured, already leaning in for another taste of your lips, a taste you would gladly give him again

maybe, maybe the red string wasn’t another burden for jason to carry like he thought it was. maybe it was his second chance at life, and his first chance with you

—————————————————————————

masterlist! ⤷ 2k event !

(a/n: eid mubarak!! <333)

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Tim Drake x Fem!reader

⋆𐙚 ̊. Tim thinks you’re cheating on him, but you’re actually planning his birthday.

cw: mentions of cheating, angst to fluff, hurt/comfort, tim is a sensitive boy and lowkey a crybaby, lmk if i missed something!

a/n: i‘m not sure if i like this, word count is about 2.3k words, i wrote this on wattpad and copied it into tumblr and i wanted to know where most of you write? i used to write directly on tumblr (mobile app/browser) but i wanted a word count. this is not proofread and will probably be edited in the future. let me know what you think and please don’t be afraid to like, reblog and comment! 💌

Tim knew that you would never actually cheat on him. He knew that. You were his best friend long before you became his girlfriend, the two of you had, and have always been honest with each other. So he doesn't understand why your actions have told him otherwise.

The first time Tim took notice to your unusual behavior was on a calm friday night. He skipped out on patrol due to him still recovering from his last mission. You were cuddled up on his bed, him laying on your chest while you both watched a movie together. At first it was the same as always, both of you making stupid comments and discussing the characters while you played with a strand of his hair. But then you went on your phone, which didn't usually happen while you two were watching something, but he'd decided to ignore it. Until your hand reached a second time, then a third, until he lost count and he noticed you being glued to your phone.

As he lifted his head, repositioning his body to lay beside yours, you didn't even glance up at him as he stared at you. Only when you felt his gaze trying to catch a peek at your phone screen, you quickly turned to him while burying your phone into your chest, quickly pressing the power button. “What are you doing?” you question, trying to laugh off the situation.

Tim continues to hold your gaze while his eyes flicker from the phone in your hand back to your face. "What are you doing?"

You laugh again. “Texting.”

“Texting who?” he questioned, his gaze unwavering.

“Just Steph.” you shrugged, desperately hoping he would let this go. But you knew Tim, and you knew he could tell you were hiding something.

“Oh. What were you texting about?” You swallow at his question, coming up with a quick answer. “Just some memes.” you squeezed out the lie. You didn't want him to know that you were actually discussing the plan for his upcoming birthday in a group chat without him.

Tim is silent for a moment as he studies your face. With a sigh, he decides to let it go. “Okay.”

You breathe out a quiet sigh of relief as he lays back down on yours chest, your phone now abandoned on the bedside table.

Tim continues watching the movie, though his brain can't shut off this time. You weren't lying to him, right? You were still your own person, even if he was your boyfriend, your best friend, you still had the right to not tell him everything. Tim could handle you not telling him everything, right?

Wrong. Later that night, you were laying in his arms, passed out while his brain couldn't stop overthinking every single one of your actions throughout the last weeks.

The second time he thinks something is really wrong he catches you sneaking out of bed in the middle of the night.

Tim was staying over at your apartment, enjoying your bed with countless fluffy pillows and your warm body snuggled up next to his. He was awoken by the sound of the sheets rustling, thinking nothing of it, just you tossing and turning until you found the right position. But then he squeezed one eye open, watching as you tried to quietly pull the covers off yourself, grabbing your phone off your nightstand before walking out of your bedroom and into the hallway, softly closing the door behind you.

It was quiet, and for a moment Tim thought you might be just going to the bathroom. That was until he heard your soft voice through the door. “Hey, babe.”

And right at this moment, Tim felt his heart stop. There was no way you could actually be cheating on him. You always told him he was your person, wasn't that true anymore?

Deciding he needed more proof for a final conclusion, he squeezed his eyes shut as he quietly got up, stepping closer your bedroom door. Now leaning his ear against it, he could make out your voice more clearly coming from down the hallway. “No, of course I didn't tell him.”He could hear you laugh softly. “He's not going to find out!”

Tim's ear began ringing as his throat suddenly felt dry, an overwhelming mix of emotions hitting him all at once. His eyes burned suddenly, and he squeezed them shut once more, trying to drown out the thoughts scrambling inside his head. This was it. You were really cheating on him. Wasn't he good enough? You always told him he was. Did you lie to him every time you told him you loved him? Was it his looks? Did he work too much? Was it Red Robin? All those thoughts circulated in his head while he tried to reason with himself. His thoughts are cut short when he catches the last of your conversation. “Okay, I gotta go before Tim wakes up. Love you.”

Hearing your footsteps become louder as they near the bedroom, he quickly wipes at his face before crawling back into bed, turning so his back is facing you when you walk back in.

You let out a tired yawn as you quietly push the door open, tracing your steps back until you're laying in bed again, facing Tim's back. You watch him for a second, a smile crossing your face as you think about the joy on his face when he'll open the gift you got him for his birthday. That was the reason you had been so sneaky around Tim for the past weeks, planning a small party at the manor, trying to get every one of his siblings to agree to come at the same time.

But your smile quickly washed away from your face as you noticed Tim's uneven breathing and the quiet shaking of his shoulders. Your hand reached out, finding its place between the blades of his shoulders. “Tim?” you call out softly, your voice filled with worry.

He debated pretending to be asleep, but he quickly realized you would just see through him and he didn't want you to know that he knew. So he turned around, now facing you, and when you spotted his red eyes and small frown, he could see the concern in your eyes. “What's wrong, baby?” you question, your voice soft as you carefully brush his hair away from his face. He could melt into your touch right now, but then he remembered wha he just heard, and suddenly this felt like the last time you'd touch him so tenderly.

“Did you have a nightmare?” is the next question that left your mouth. Tim decided to go along with it, feeling his throat closing up with the threat of unshed tears, he just nodded.

“Oh, Timmy.” You sighed out empathetic, wrapping your arms around him as you pulled him into you, pressing a kiss against his forehead in an act of silent comfort. “You're safe here.” you mumbled against his skin. Tim squinted his eyes shut, not believing that you could cheat on him in one moment and love him like this in the next.

Now, as he walks back through the front door and into the manor, his thoughts are still running wildly around his brain. They have been the past week , not stopping since that you comforted him because of his “nightmare”. He hadn’t talked much to you after that night, always coming up with reasons to cut conversations short, responding with short answers to your texts, ignoring calls and giving a lazy excuse afterwards. And today was his birthday, to which you only sent him a quick text, leaving no signs that you would want to see him today. From Tim’s perspective, you didn’t seem too concerned. What he didn’t know was that you spent every spare second you had to plan his birthday so it would be perfect, leading to you being pretty busy.

Letting out a heavy sigh, Tim walks into the sitting room in search of Alfred. He had sent him on a mission to go and get a special ingredient Alfred was missing for something he was baking, whatever it was.

He frowned as his gaze scans the room, noticing the curtains drawn and the furniture arranged. Before he could notice the decorations hanging of the wall, the curtains were pulled open and a chorus of “Happy Birthday”s sounded across the room. Now standing in front of him were all of his siblings, Bruce, Alfred, and you. His gaze focused on you, your grin wide as you stepped closer to him, his favorite cake in held securely in front of you, decorated with his favorite lego figures and lit candles. “Happy birthday, baby. Make a wish!” you smile at him, giving him an encouraging nod.

Tim can only stare, and before you know it, he’s already turning around and quickly making an exit. He’s gone before you can call out and a frown comes across your face. Behind you, you hear Jason whisper a quiet “What the fuck?” and Cass asking quietly “What’s wrong with him?”

You still stand there, baffled at Tim’s reaction, when you feel someone come up behind you. Your turn your head to come face to face with Steph, and she gives you a comforting look as she takes the cake out of your hands and quietly tells you to go after him.

You do immediately. Your pace is fast as you trace his steps to where you know he must be. Seeing that he left the door to the terrace open, you quickly slip outside, spotting Tim leaning against the railing, his body hunched as his face is clenched in agony. Your worry increases instantly and you call out his name, watching as he startled and looks up at you with hurt in his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, stepping closer to him. “Is it the party? Is it too much?” You want to reach out, hold his hands in yours and give him all the comfort you can. You both stare at one another before Tim breaks the silence.

“Why are you doing this?” he chokes out through his tears, and your heart cracks at seeing him so hurt. “What do you mean?” you shake your head in confusion.

“Why won’t you just break up with me if you don’t want to be with me anymore?” he snaps, his face morphing into regret in an instant at the way he talked to you. He hated being mean to you, even if you were the one that was hurting him right now.

“What are you talking about?” you shake your head in confusion. “I- I don’t want to break up with you! I want you, Tim!”

“Then why are you cheating on me?” he finally lets out, and your face drops at hearing his words.

Your brain stops working for a second as you try to process his words. You, cheating, on him? “Tim, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Please.”

Tim scoffs, shaking his head as he wipes at his eyes. “You don’t have to lie anymore. I heard you that night, last week.”

Your eyes widen, questioning every interaction you’ve had over the last week, trying to remember any conversations or phone calls. Phone calls… that’s when it hits you. The night you stepped out to call Steph as she found the perfect gift you had wanted for Tim on patrol that night. The night you came back to bed to find him crying from a “nightmare”.

Your gaze softens as you watch Tim completely unravel before you, believing the fact that you would cheat on him.

“Oh, Tim.” your voice wavers. You take a step forward, this time not hesitating to grab his hands and pull him into you. You wrap your arms around him, feeling his do the same. You could cry at the fact that he was still hugging you, even if he was supposed to be mad. You pull back, placing your hands on either side of his face, tilting it to meet your gaze. “I would never cheat on you. Never. I love you so so much, Tim. You’re my everything.” you explain desperately. “That night, I was talking to Steph about one of your presents for today. And the basically the last two weeks I’ve been busy planning every minor detail because I wanted today to be perfect for you. But I promise you, Timothy, that I will not and have not ever cheated on you. You can look through my phone or search my drawers or whatever-”

You’re cut off by Tim pressing his lips to yours. You let out a sound of surprise before leaning into the kiss, pressing your lips to his with the same eagerness.

He’s the one to pull back, letting his hands rest on your waist. “I believe you.”

Eyes widening, a relived expression washed over your face. “I love you, Tim. And I‘m sorry I made you feel that way.”

He shakes his head. “No, I‘m sorry. For believing that you would cheat on me. I was just… I was so scared of losing you.”

Your face softens more, if even possible, as your thumb swipes under his eye, wiping away the last of his tears. “You’re not going to lose me, baby. Not if I can help it.” you smile at him.

He’s pulls you closer again, burying his face in your neck as the two of you stay like that for awhile.

Tim knew that after all, you were his best friend, his soulmate, and he was wrong to doubt the bond between the two of you.