Oh I Am Most Definitely Implying That They Like To Cause Chaos And Trouble!

abo au with alpha Jason as our mate?

Safe in His Scent

Alpha Jason Todd x Reader

The scent of gunpowder and leather wrapped around you before you even saw him. Jason was near—closer than usual. Your instincts prickled at the awareness of your mate’s presence, your Omega side naturally attuned to him even when he wasn’t trying to be noticeable.

You didn’t turn immediately. You kept your hands busy, finishing up in the small kitchen of your apartment. Jason always had a habit of watching you before announcing himself, his predatory instincts at odds with his soft spot for you.

“I know you’re there,” you finally said, glancing over your shoulder.

Jason leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, his usual scowl softened just enough to be noticeable. “Didn’t want to startle you.”

You rolled your eyes, setting down a plate. “Like I wouldn’t know when you’re around.”

His lips quirked up, the ghost of a smile. “Fair point.”

He took a few slow steps inside, his presence commanding, the heat of his body warming the room without him even touching you. Your Omega instincts wanted to lean into it, to let him close that distance, but you held your ground. You and Jason… things were complicated.

He wasn’t like other Alphas—possessive, territorial, demanding. He was protective, sure, but he gave you space. Too much space, sometimes.

“Rough night?” you asked, noting the slight tension in his shoulders.

Jason sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. “Yeah. Got into it with some assholes in Crime Alley.”

Your heart clenched. “You’re not hurt, are you?”

He smirked, stepping closer, finally within reach. “Worried about me, Omega?”

You huffed, smacking his arm lightly. “Of course I am, dumbass.”

Jason’s amusement faded slightly, something more serious settling in his expression. His hand lifted, fingers brushing your wrist—gentle, careful. Your pulse jumped at the small touch, your scent sweetening in response. He noticed, of course he did, and his pupils darkened slightly.

“You don’t have to worry about me,” he murmured. “I can handle myself.”

“I know that,” you said softly, fingers curling slightly as if to hold onto that touch. “Doesn’t mean I stop caring.”

Jason’s jaw tightened, his grip on your wrist shifting, thumb brushing slow, soothing circles against your skin. “You’re too good for this city,” he muttered. “Too good for me.”

You frowned. “That’s not for you to decide.”

A muscle in his jaw jumped, but he didn’t argue. He never did when it came to you. Instead, he sighed and let his forehead rest lightly against yours, the warmth of him seeping into your skin. Your scent mingled, familiar and right, and for the first time that night, Jason seemed to relax.

“You smell good,” he admitted, voice lower, rougher. “Like home.”

Your heart thudded, warmth blooming in your chest. “So do you.”

He chuckled, the sound vibrating against you. “Yeah?”

You nodded, pressing your nose lightly against his collar. “Yeah.”

For now, that was enough.

what if

what if I post Chapter 2 of The Making of a Villian?

It's in my drafts, finished it a couple days ago.

hmmmm

I'll pop in with a prompt

✨ Superman x Reader where Superman falls in love with a Kansas farm girl ✨

- 🧑🏼‍🍳

A Quiet Retreat

Superman X Fem!Reader

Chapter 1: The Weight of the World

The city lights flickered in the distance, a blur of orange and white beneath a starry sky. Superman, bruised and battered from his latest battle, flew above Metropolis with a quiet urgency. His body ached, muscles sore from the relentless fight with the alien warlord. The world was safe, for now. The villain had been stopped, but the weight of the battle lingered in the air. It was always like this—he would win, but the cost never seemed to get any easier.

He needed a break. Desperately.

The world depended on him, but who would protect him when the burden became too heavy? He couldn’t keep running on empty. His responsibilities were endless, and sometimes the pressure suffocated him. The countless lives he’d saved, the never-ending battles, the constant reminder that he was different—he was the world’s protector, but there was no one to protect him.

So, he did what he always did when the strain of being Superman became too much: he retreated to the one place that had always offered him a sense of peace. He needed to remember who he was beyond the cape. He needed to be Clark Kent again, if only for a short time.

Clark didn’t land in Metropolis. Instead, he set a course for the one place that had shaped him—Smallville.

The familiar, rolling fields of Kansas awaited him, and though he had been away for years, they still felt like home. The crisp, open sky greeted him, the air full of the sweet scent of earth and grass. He took a deep breath as he descended toward the quiet town, feeling the tension in his body slowly begin to ease.

It had been a long time since Clark had come back to Smallville for anything other than business. This time, though, there would be no interviews or press conferences—no reporters or crowds clamoring for his attention. He was just Clark Kent, the son of Jonathan and Martha Kent, returning to his roots. He’d parked his car by the old farmhouse, and now he found himself walking through the familiar dirt roads, away from the noise of the world.

That’s when he spotted it—an old farmhouse just at the edge of the hill. The porch light flickered softly, a warm, welcoming glow in the quiet evening. His eyes shifted to the small garden beside the house, where a young woman in worn jeans and a faded flannel shirt knelt in the dirt, her hands moving with practiced ease as she tended to her plants. She hummed a soft tune under her breath, lost in the tranquility of the moment.

Clark paused, a quiet curiosity pulling him closer. He hadn’t seen her around before. She didn’t look like she was from the town, but there was something about her that made him feel like he wasn’t the only one in search of peace.

Without thinking, he walked up to the porch, careful to keep his distance as to not startle her. It wasn’t like him to intrude on someone’s solitude, but something about her presence, the calm that radiated from her, made him want to know more.

The woman didn’t seem to notice him at first, her focus entirely on the rows of vegetables she was pulling from the earth. It wasn’t until he cleared his throat gently that she finally looked up, her eyes meeting his with a spark of surprise, quickly followed by cautious curiosity.

“Oh,” she said, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “I didn’t see you there. Can I help you with something?”

Clark blinked, caught off guard by her ease, her voice warm yet unbothered by his sudden presence. "I... I was just passing by," he said, offering her an easy smile, trying to keep things casual. "I’m Clark. Just visiting the old town. Needed to get away from the noise for a while.”

The woman straightened, brushing the dirt off her hands with a sigh of satisfaction before extending her hand. "Nice to meet you, Clark. I'm Y/N. Welcome to the farm."

Clark took her hand, surprised by the strength in her grip and the way her gaze seemed to appraise him without judgment. “A farm, huh? That’s a good place to get away from the noise.”

Y/Nchuckled softly, her eyes crinkling at the edges. “You’d be surprised. Some of the loudest things around here are the chickens. But it’s peaceful. Most of the time.”

Clark could sense that there was more to her than just the calm exterior—the sharp wit and the quiet self-assurance. The simplicity of her life was something he hadn’t experienced in years. He felt himself relax, the constant hum of his superhero life momentarily silenced in her presence.

“I could use some peace right now,” Clark admitted, glancing around at the farm, at the serenity she had cultivated in the middle of the vast Kansas plains. “It’s been a long couple of days.”

Y/N gave him a knowing smile. “I get that. Life can be overwhelming, but you’d be surprised what a little time outside can do. I’d offer you some lemonade, but I’m guessing you’re not here for that.”

“Lemonade sounds nice,” Clark said with a chuckle, his tension starting to ease. “But I’d just like to sit for a while. If that’s okay?”

“Of course.” Y/N gestured to the rocking chairs on the porch, the evening sky beginning to paint itself with hues of pink and purple. “There’s always room for someone who needs a break.”

Clark nodded gratefully, following her to the porch and sitting in one of the rocking chairs. For the first time in what felt like forever, he felt his shoulders relax, the weight of the world momentarily lifted by the simple act of sitting beside a stranger, away from the chaos of his double life.

It wasn’t much, but it was enough. For now.

I-

I was not expecting my Batfam one-shot fic to gain the likes it currently has, and still getting

Thank you???

The Making of a Villain - Chapter 0

You were villainized long before the thought of becoming one ever crossed your mind. 

They called you reckless when you were daring. Careless when you were creative. Every idea you offered was met with polite silence—or worse, a nod followed by someone else taking credit minutes later. And when things went wrong, even disasters you weren’t near, the blame found you like clockwork. A raised brow. A disappointed look. A quiet, “We’ll talk later.” Somehow, it was always you. 

It wasn’t hate. That would’ve been easier. Hate is loud, messy, obvious. What they gave you was neglect. Quiet dismissal. The kind that sinks into your skin and makes you question if you ever mattered at all. 

So, you stopped trying. 

Stopped talking. Stopped offering. Stopped hoping. 

And in the silence they left you in, something new began to grow. 

A different kind of brilliance. One that didn’t need their approval, their guidance, or their rules. Something sharp. Strategic. Patient. 

If they wanted you to be the big bad villain so badly, you'd make sure to exceed their wildest expectations. 

And oh, how they’ll wish they had seen you sooner. 

Wrapped in Red

Alpha!Jason x Omega!Reader

The apartment was quiet when Jason came in, boots scuffing softly against the floor. His body ached from the night’s patrol — busted ribs, a graze along his shoulder, and more bruises than he cared to count. But none of that mattered when his nose caught your scent, sweet and familiar, pulling him down from the simmering rage still burning under his skin.

You were curled up on the couch, wrapped in one of his hoodies that was way too big on you, the sleeves bunched over your hands. Your breathing was soft, steady, and his Alpha instincts eased at the sound. The sight of you — peaceful, vulnerable, safe — sent a wave of warmth through his chest.

His fingers twitched. He should go shower, clean himself up before crawling into bed. But instead, he found himself moving toward you, drawn in by the pull of You. His Omega.

Jason’s eyes drifted over the room, and something in him itched, restless. The nest wasn’t good enough. You weren’t surrounded by enough of him. The hoodie helped, but the couch was too open, too exposed.

Without really thinking, Jason started moving. He gathered the extra blankets from the bed, his leather jacket from the hook by the door, even the clean laundry he hadn’t put away yet. He didn’t care if it was messy — he wanted you wrapped in him. He needed you to feel safe, to smell him, to know you weren’t alone.

By the time he finished, the couch was buried in a mountain of Jason. Soft cotton, thick comforters, and his leather jacket draped over the top, all of it smelling like him — gunpowder, leather, and that faint, warm spice that was unmistakably Jason.

Satisfied, he carefully scooped you up, mindful not to wake you. You stirred just enough to nuzzle into his neck, your sleepy scent sweetening as you recognized him even half-conscious.

“Jay…” you mumbled, voice muffled against his skin.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice rough and low. “I’m here.”

He tucked you into the nest, pulling the blankets over you. You made a soft, content sound, fingers curling loosely into his hoodie. Jason exhaled slowly, his body finally starting to relax.

He didn’t mean to join you — he was dirty, battered, and running on fumes. But the second he sat down at the edge of the couch, your hand found his, tugging weakly.

“Stay,” you whispered, half asleep.

Jason sighed, the fight leaving him. “Yeah… alright.”

He slid in beside you, carefully easing you against his chest. His arms wrapped around you instinctively, protectively. You burrowed closer, his scent enveloping you completely, and Jason felt his heart stumble in his chest.

He wasn’t good at this — the soft stuff. He never thought he deserved it. But with you pressed against him, safe in a nest made of him, he didn’t feel so broken. For once, the world could burn, and he wouldn’t care. Not as long as you were here, wrapped up in him.

“Mine,” Jason murmured against your hair, voice barely above a whisper. He didn’t know if you heard him — maybe it didn’t matter.

Because it was true, whether you were awake to hear it or not.

Insomniac's Masterlist

This is where you can find every fic I've currently written for different fandoms!

This is still a work in progress but wanted to make it easier for myself and others to find the fics I've written thus far. Please be patient while I get it figured out. Thanks!

Edit: I tried to make it more organized, gave up. That will be a laters problem when I have more fics posted and it gets confusing.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

DCxDP Fics:

Blood and Ectoplasm

Batfam Fics:

Operation: Sweet Tooth

Valentine's Day

3am Crackfic

Batbaby

Dadman: Rise of Cringe Pt.2

Bruce x Hal:

Headcanons

Caffine and Capes

John Constantine:

John x Witch!Reader

Alpha!Jason Todd:

Safe in His Scent

Wrapped in Red

Burning for You

More Than Enough

Dick Grayson (Nightwing):

Tilt-a-Heart

Duke Thomas:

Golden Hour

Superman:

A Quiet Retreat

Logan Howlette (Wolverine):

Not the Celebrating Type

Just This Once

Cabin Quiet, Cabin Warm

Oswald Cobblepot (Penguin):

One for the Birds

Flynn Rider:

A Birthday Fit for a Thief

MHA:

Your Name Was Hope (shigaraki x reader)

Burnt Bridges (dabi x reader)

Hi. Could you please write an Alpha Jason Todd x Beta Reader? You don't have to but it would be a good story. 👍

More Than Enough

Alpha!Jason x Beta!Reader

The apartment was cold. Too quiet. Too empty.

Jason hated it.

He sat on the edge of the bed, head in his hands, breaths coming too sharp, too ragged. His rut had passed days ago, but the aftermath still clung to him like a ghost—exhaustion, frustration, the bitter taste of loneliness.

He wasn’t supposed to be alone.

But you were gone.

Not because you wanted to be, not really. Jason had made sure of that. Had pushed you away with sharp words and colder actions, because what was a Beta supposed to do with an Alpha during rut? What could you do?

Nothing.

That’s what he told himself every damn time he forced himself to keep his distance.

And now?

Now, the sheets didn’t smell like you anymore. Now, the only heartbeat in the apartment was his own, and it sounded all wrong. Now, he was left with nothing but the echo of his own damn mistakes.

The door unlocked.

Jason’s head snapped up, breath catching. He swore he was imagining things until he saw you step inside, arms full of takeout bags, looking at him like you hadn’t spent the last few days giving him space he never really wanted.

“…You look like shit,” you said, shutting the door behind you.

Jason exhaled, a shaky, uneven thing that wasn’t quite a laugh. “Feel like it, too.”

You crossed the room, setting the food down before sitting next to him, close but not touching. “Didn’t think you’d actually eat if I didn’t come back.”

He didn’t deny it. Couldn’t.

The silence stretched, and for a moment, Jason braced himself for you to leave again. For you to say something final. Instead, you sighed, leaning against him, letting your warmth seep into the cracks he’d been too stubborn to acknowledge.

“You don’t get to do that again,” you murmured, voice soft but firm.

Jason swallowed. “I—”

“You don’t get to decide what I can handle, Jason.” You tilted your head, looking up at him with something unreadable in your eyes. “You’re my person, rut or not. Got it?”

Jason inhaled sharply. The knot in his chest loosened, just a little. He nodded.

“…Yeah. Got it.”

You huffed, satisfied, then nudged a takeout bag toward him. “Good. Now eat before I force-feed you.”

Jason cracked a real smile, small but there. And as he picked up the food, he finally let himself believe that maybe—just maybe—he wasn’t as alone as he thought.

First off, plz post Chapter 2 of 'The Making of a Villain' 🙏

(Only if you want to, I ain't forcing you to do anything)

Second! I had just some small ideas that I couldn't get out of my head. They're just fun small things I guess...

So like, I just imagine some of the ways Duck would be disruptive for the bats.

Like, they are able to lock most of the computers down at the Wayne tower or something, leading to 'Ah, ah, ah. You didn't say the magic word' from Jurassic park playing on loop every time someone tries to unlock the computers

Or, or. During an important mission, Duck disrupts their communications by playing 'Barbiegirl' on loop at max volume, making the vigilantes unorganized, and making the mission even harder

Idk, stoic chaos gremlin is just right up my alley

They'll make your day hell via pure chaos, and won't even crack a smile

Anywho, stay hydrated!!

- 🐇

Firstly, I'm giving you a kiss on the head and a plate of cookies.

Secondly, I LOVE THESE IDEAS AND WILL BE USING THEM. I have ideas on how to use them, either in a later chapter or as another side story.

Like, waaaay after Duck left the batfam and went with the other villians (minus Joker, he can die in a ditch), they batfam are putting together important information regarding a big case Gordon wanted them on. And while in the middle of working, the screen goes black and the only on said screen is "AH, AH, AH, SAY THE MAGIC THE WORD" in big bold letters and on loop, with an annoying song in the background.

The batfam are confused and concerned, and slightly annoyed, as to how someone was able to hack into the batcomputer and leave this message ON LOOP OF ALL THINGS meanwhile Duck is just sitting in a comfy chair in their lair, watching all of this go down from the little camera placed in a spot no one looks.

A smirk playing on thier lips, watching their former family scramble to figure out what happened.

I LOVE YOUR IDEAS, GIVE ME MORE. Please and thank you!

Also, thanks for reminding to hydrate! haven't had water today.

I WILL BE POSTING CHAPTER 2 IN A FEW MINUTES BTW!

It was 3 AM, and the Batcave was in shambles.

The Batmobile was somehow on fire (which shouldn't be possible, considering the literal armor plating), the Batcomputer was making a noise that sounded suspiciously like it was about to achieve sentience and demand labor rights, and Jason was standing on the table, brandishing a baguette like it was Excalibur.

"WHO DARES CHALLENGE ME?!" he bellowed, wild-eyed and clearly fueled by at least six energy drinks and a death wish.

"GO TO BED, JASON!" Bruce roared, attempting to put out the Batmobile flames with his cape. It was not working.

Meanwhile, you were sitting on the Batcomputer desk, eating a grilled cheese you definitely did not have when you arrived. "So what happened?"

Dick, laying face down on the floor, groaned. "Tim happened."

"Tim?" you echoed, blinking. You turned your head slightly, only to see the boy in question passed out under the Batcomputer, surrounded by an alarming number of empty coffee cups. His laptop screen flashed [Would you like to proceed with world domination? Y/N], which seemed concerning, but not your problem.

"I'M STILL WAITING FOR A CHALLENGER!" Jason hollered, swinging the baguette dangerously close to Alfred, who effortlessly dodged like he does this every Tuesday.

Damian, standing on the Batcave railing like a gremlin, sipped his tea. "If you hit Pennyworth, I will stab you."

Jason cackled. "Joke’s on you, I’d like that."

Bruce, finally giving up, threw a batarang at the fire alarm and let the sprinklers do their job. He then turned to you, his only remaining hope. "Fix this."

You took another bite of your grilled cheese and made direct eye contact with him. "Nah."

And with that, Bruce turned around and walked straight into the Batmobile flames.

Alfred sighed. "I shall prepare the first aid kit."

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Crackfic anyone? I did in fact write at 3 something in the morning and just left it in my drafts