#mea.jason

Batfam:

Koala Cookies (Batsis!Reader) Fluff/Crack: Sacred cookies have gone missing and now the whole family is in some turmoil over it.

Dick Grayson:

Mud and Bubble (Best Friend!Reader) Fluff: You finally get a day off but Dick has messy plans that will keep you from indulging in your much-needed vacation.

Marbles (Dick Grayson x Reader) Fluff: Of all things you could collect, they had to be plain marbles from soda bottles...

Jason Todd:

Voodoo Doll // Bonus  (Soulmate!AU) Fluff: Soulmate AU where your soulmate came in the form of a voodoo doll. Things go awry when Jason dies.

Baby Shoes (Jason ft. Daughter) Fluff: Was Jason ready to become a father? Some would think so!

Candids // Bonus (Photojournalist!Reader) Fluff: Make a job out of photographing vigilantes, it'll be fun and super safe—said no one ever.

Hogwarts, Bitchcraft & Misery  (prompt) Fluff/Crack: Living with a cranky vigilante will definitely not be amusing.

“Why do you only kiss me when I’m sleeping?”  (prompt) Fluff/Comfort

“I can’t lose you, I can’t.”  (prompt) Fluff/Crack

“Realization” // Bonus (ft. Batfam) Fluff(?): Dinner with the Wayne family was supposed to be as calm as it could get but things take a turn when comments are made and feelings are hurt.

You Watched Me Suffocate / Pt. 2 // Bonus (Hanahaki Disease AU) Angst/No Comfort

Sleepy Mumbles  (prompt) Fluff/Crack: Jason finds the things you say in your sleep rather amusing, though sometimes terrifying.

Cold Afternoons Fluff: Request for the reader to spend time with Jason and the batfam.

These Days  (song blurb) Angst: Missing everything about you, but maybe it's better off this way.

Can’t Be Saved  (song blurb) One shot: Jason finds himself becoming a funeral crasher.

Shut Up and Dance [AO3 Exclusive] (song blurb) Fluff: Dancing with Jason while on an undercover mission.

Working for Intel / Pt. 2 / Pt. 3 (Librarian!Reader) Fluff: Jason picks up a part-time job at the Gotham Library as part of his missing to catch a serial hacker. The only problem is you and your stand-offish personality.

Unconventional Existence (Clairvoyant!Reader) Fluff: It was easy to differentiate the living from the dead until a mishap leads to an interesting conversation with the tenant living one floor above you.

Always Hungry (blurb) Fluff: Mousy submission for a hungry S.O.

Spa days at home w/ Jason (H/Cs thread—OP @demontrap)

Tim Drake:

“Sharing is Caring” [AO3 Exclusive] (prompt) Fluff: Diner runs with Tim

Roy Harper:

Mother Duck (Babysitter!Reader ft. Lian) (request) Fluff: Lian sees you as a mother figure, but what does Roy see you as?

Damian Wayne:

“I used to be passive aggressive-”  (prompt) One shot: Damian vs. a Child

➤ 〖Dick Grayson〗

Everyone's crowd favourite; arguably the golden child for most. Dick Grayson is often characterized as the most reliable person on the team as the leader and to the rest of his family as the eldest son. With that said, nobody from Bruce Wayne's family exists without trauma... Another prominent choice to bring home to meet your parents ;) Currently three (3) stories available to read!

➤ 〖Jason Todd〗

The most prominent member of the Undead Robin Club, Jason is a little rough around the edges but he has plenty of stories to share though they may not be all that fun and lighthearted. He may seem more brawn than brain, but Jason's actually the local literature nerd and the one with the highest GPA in the family. His less-than-ideal date? Anywhere near a carnival or a place with clowns. Currently twenty-two (22) stories available to read!

➤ 〖Tim Drake〗

Tim Drake is brilliant, a real innovator, but what he needs is to innovate a better sleeping schedule. Those eyebags are Gucci and that coffee? Probably his fifth cup. He's passionate about the things he sets his heart and his mind on, so if you happen to find yourself weighing on both, just know that Tim would do absolutely everything for you. Currently one (1) story available to read!

➤ 〖Roy Harper〗

Error 404: Love Interest, Roy Harper, may be quite different depending on which version you load. Roy is a bit of a package deal. You either get him with the trauma, him and his best friend, Jason Todd, or him and his child. If you're lucky, it's a 3-in-1! His excellent marksmanship may just land a Cupid's arrow in your heart. Currently one (1) story available to read!

➤ 〖Mark Grayson〗

Your eyes squinted in happiness as you carefully chewed your food, and Jason chuckled, “Do you think we’ll still be eating chili dogs under the stars when we’re old?”

You stopped chewing and turned your attention to him, eyes wide at his question. Jason was never really one to think about the future, or at least out loud, but nonetheless, the question made you smirk. 

“Quite possibly, but I don’t know, we might be stuck in a care home eating mash potatoes,” you shrugged and Jason let out a snort. 

With a sigh, Jason snuffed out his cigarette before returning inside. The thought slightly irritated Jason, how he thought there would be a future with you. He always thought you would have his last name, but then again, he was legally dead, but he would have done anything to make that happen. 

It was a little after midnight in Dubai, but the timezone difference from Gotham kept Jason awake. He pulled out his phone as he threw himself on the couch, and started scrolling on Instagram. 

“We should take a photo together, Jay!”

Jason made a skeptical face before giving in to your puppy face, “Okay fine…”

You let out an excited squeal before pulling out your phone and pulled Jason close for a picture, “Let’s do a goofy one.”

Jason contorted his face as did you before the click went off. 

He located the photo in his tagged, a content smile flashed across his features before he saw your recent post. 

It was another picture of the view from your small flat in Austin, a bright orange sunset looming over the city. He refrained from double tapping the photo and pulled up your name on his phone instead. 

His fingers flew over the keys as he typed out a message he was rather familiar with,

“Hey, (Y/N). I know it’s been a while and you’re probably busy with life and all, but I was hoping we could talk sometime? I miss you.”

It was the same text every time he opened your contact, but he could never pull himself to hit send. A hand brushed down Jason face, pulling his lips down as he groaned and backspaced on the message. Anger was evident, but what for? Not having the guts to send you a message? Letting you go in the first place?

We would never know for sure. 

Send in a song or part of one and I’ll write a blurb for it!

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They told you everything from what soulmates were and the process of finding yours. The dolls were almost like putting your fallen baby tooth under your pillow at night and the tooth fairy would visit you while you slept. The story for the dolls went; when you were deemed fit or the timing was almost right, a little fairy will bring you a small doll that resembled a bit of what your soulmate would look when you would meet. Your parents pulled their dolls out from their wedding box and although years had gone by since they first met, you could still see the resemblance. The dolls were small, about the size of a juice box. They were made of yarn but adorned enough details to seem as close of a match to their humans as they could.

So from the night onwards, you would pray to the stars that in the following morning to come, you would wake to find your soulmate’s voodoo doll under your bed. 

Of course, that didn’t work out for you and in the morning, you always woke up with glee and excitement only to be met with an empty spot under your pillow which slightly dampened our day. On the best of days, you would remind yourself that no one is truly alone in the world so your day would come. 

Throughout your years at school, your friends and peers would wake up to find their dolls and gush about it for the rest of the week. It hurt to know everyone around you were a step closer to their happy endings but you still kept your smile on for them. Once in a while, you would ask a random adult about their voodoo doll story. You usually stumbled upon the happy ones. There was one man who found his doll the morning of his big presentation only to meet his significant other at said presentation or grandma who found hers under her pillow in the middle of the afternoon when she was changing her bed sheets. A lady who worked at the library told you she didn’t find her doll until she was twenty-four so that kept you going. Of course, there was also the sad ones like your neighbor across the street whose relationship had ended and she spent most of her angry mornings stabbing at her doll with a pin on her front porch. Your parents told you that whatever you did to the doll, would affect the person so you could only imagine what your neighbor’s ex-fiance could be going through. 

On the morning of your fifteenth birthday, you let out a shrill scream when you had felt a lump under your pillow. By the time your parents had reached your room, you were already covered in tears of happiness, cradling the small doll to your chest. Your parents frantically asked you what’s wrong and instead of even trying to formulate words, you peeled your hands away to show them the doll in your palm. They were ecstatic. They knew how much this meant to you from day one and through the many years of sad mornings, they knew this was the best birthday gift anyone could ever give you. When the three of you had calmed down, you all examined it closely. Your doll was a little bit smaller than the one of your dad. You significant other had a black hair and the doll wore a red hoodie and grey pants.

For the first month, you would purposely go out whenever given the chance to, to see if you would come across your love. You even turned down the chance to go to Gotham to visit your second aunt because you wanted to stay and scour your city to find your soulmate. When you met new people, if the topic of soulmates came up you were quick to talk a little bit about your doll to see if anyone knew of him, yet nothing turned out. You found yourself casually running your finger over the dolls hairs and often wondering what it felt like to your significant other. Was he okay? Where did he live? Would you two meet soon?

Over the course of the next few months, your doll seemed to get lighter in color. You carried the thing everywhere you went as a reminder to stay vigilant for the black hair and red hoodie. You just assumed it was just getting worn from being handled so often. Except, a week or so later you came across another lump under your pillow before you fell asleep. Lifting it up, you were met with another doll. This one was a tad bigger than your first and it had a white streak in his hair. He wore a grey shirt with a red spot on the chest that was too small to make out, under a brown jacket. 

Confused, you went to show your parents and they could only share sad glances between each other before sitting you down and explaining that your first love had probably passed away. No one knew when this happened but they knew this wasn’t the first time in the history of voodoo dolls did something like this happen. You were bawling your eyes out by the time your parents finished telling you. Sure it had only just been a couple months, but you had grown emotionally attached to your stupid doll, your stupid lover. Your mother had tried to reassure you everything would work out and that the angels had blessed you with someone else. 

With a salty taste on your lips, you chuckled darkly, “Yeah, let’s hope this one doesn’t die either.” And with that, you left to go to your room to silently mourn the loss of the stranger you once loved. 

Years had passed and before you knew it, you were moving out to Gotham City to attend Gotham University. Your parents were torn between getting you to stay in the comfort of their home, scared for your safety because it was Gotham after all and supporting you in your decision to move forth in life. You had multiple acceptances from other universities but you chose to leave. The first year after you got your new voodoo doll, you looked at it with resentment. You downright hated that thing. You hated that you now had a replacement for the first love that you never even got to meet. You hated how they both seemed slightly alike in color scheme. You often dragged a needle across the slits between the yarn or squished his head hoping your new lover suffered drastic headaches. You wanted to stab the needle into his heart repeatedly, but you knew that he was probably clueless to the whole ordeal and perhaps giving a heart attack to your new lover wasn’t how you wanted to get another replacement if they even had another one for you… 

Gotham wasn’t great, but it wasn’t as gross as everyone said. You lived in an alright area with working streetlights and friendly-ish neighbors. Most were married couples or seniors living alone. University was what you had expected; heavy course load, mediocre professors and small classes. You heard about Gotham’s “vigilantes” and corrupted… everything, but you still tried to make the most out of the situation you put yourself in. You always had your pepper spray and pocket knife with you wherever you went. Even with everything from unpacking, work and school, you still found yourself wondering about your new lover. The hatred had stopped after a while but you still kept both your dolls hidden in your keepsake box. 

Is he anything like my first love? Would you even know?

Will he be a gentleman? Stop it, if he’s meant for you, he would have to be nice. You didn’t like rude people and it would just be a plain curse if you got an asshole of a man for a lover.

Is he even looking for me? I mean, you’re not. What if he was back in your hometown? You would never see each other. Maybe moving to Gotham was a bad idea…

It was past midnight and you were craving cookies and milk so you had walked down to the small corner shop to pick some up. You had just stepped foot out of the store when you heard a cry for help coming from down the street. You could make out two figures tugging at a woman so you decided to run up. You weren’t even thinking straight. A woman your size in pink kitty pajama pants and a dirty grey sweater you had found lying on top of your dirty laundry pile holding a bag of milk and cookies running up to stop two men from harassing another woman? You just didn’t want to be a bystander so you puffed up your chest and shouted at the men as you neared them, hoping it would scare them off.

“HEY! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?” 

The men turned to you with annoyance and a dirty grimace etched on their features. You gave them a once over to provide police with details later when one of them came up to you. “Why don’t you mind your own business?”

“You’re in my neighborhood, this is my business.” You responded boldly. The woman was in tears and you tried not to let your demeanor down, trying hard to recall some self-defense moves your father had taught you. 

“Four’s a party,” the man holding the woman shrugs and just as the man was about to grab you as well, the sound of a gun cocking froze everyone. The three in front of you had their attention on someone behind you. You were too afraid to turn around, unsure of who the gun was pointing at, you didn’t want to risk getting your brain blown out. “It’s the Red Hood…” someone muttered quietly.

“I believe five makes it a party,” the man’s muffled voice spoke as he walked up beside you. You were still afraid to look, but in your peripheral vision, you could tell the masked man wasn’t aiming for you. “Do we have a problem?” He asked as they all took a step back. You recognized the name now. People always talked about a vigilante who took down mobsters and drug dealers named Red Hood except you’ve never seen a picture of him before. Realizing who’s side he was on, you had taken the opportunity of distraction to swing your grocery bag at the man in front of you before grabbing his arm and twisting it behind his back while kicking out his knee. Adrenaline coursed through you as you pulled your knife out on the second guy who quickly let go of the girl and backed away even further. 

“If you’re smart, you’d turn yourself into GPD or I’ll give them your description myself.” I threatened and he nodded before running off, leaving his friend to fend for himself. Putting your knife away, you asked the woman if she was alright. She frantically nodded and you advised her to report the incident to the police before she ran away. 

Turning around you stood to face the masked vigilante who was still there at the scene. Your mouth fell agape as you stared at the man before you. 

“That was… really well done.”The compliment seemed hesitant but you were too distracted by what he was wearing. Sure, anyone else in Gotham might be used to it, the red helmet that covered his face, but that wasn’t the thing that had your attention, to begin with. 

His outfit. 

The brown leather jacket. The grey undershirt and the symbol. The symbol of a red bat splayed across his chest. Was this him? Was that the symbol you couldn’t make out on your doll? The doll with the black hair and white streak. 

Your second lover. 

The outfit was for certain but without his hair, you couldn’t confirm your theory. 

You knew this crossed boundaries of privacy but you really had to know. Walking up to him, you could see his body visibly tense, but he was too stunned to shy away. 

Was this him? Did he recognize you?

Reaching up, you located the small hatch for his helmet and you pulled it. A small hissing sound came from the mask as it loosened. Slowly, you pulled the red hood off and you were met with a well-structured face with tousled black hair and surely, the white tuff above his forehead. With the helmet in one hand, your other one came up to pull your hood off your head revealing your (Y/HC) hair tied in a messy bun. 

A gasp escaped his lips as he brought his hand up to peel off his domino mask. 

“You’re…” He mumbled, stopping himself to give you a once over. “You’re her.” You looked down to see he had pulled out a small voodoo doll that resembled your current state of pink pajamas, a grey hoodie, and a messy bun. It was small compared to his hand and although it would have been a perfect moment for you to show your doll, it was still stashed somewhere in your studio among the dozen of boxes you moved with. 

Gently picking up the doll, you looked at it. 

“I guess it is.” You smiled as you returned the doll back to him. Blue eyes twinkled as he smiled down at you. “I’m (Y/N).” 

Pocketing the small figure, his hands came out asking for a handshake. “And I’m Jason.”

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