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sanguineterrain · 9 months

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Feel like I’m so basic but Jason Todd with a crush and him having zero social skills and just being super clumsy despite being highly competent when he’s in the field. Crush is like real sweet and kind maybe a service worker ✨

anon u are so true and real for this bc jason is definitely an unsocialized cat when he has a crush 💓

jason todd x gn!reader. shyish/anxious jason with a big fat crush. baker reader. annoying customer. the duality of jason todd. 1.6k words.

also i fully believe that silently leaving huge tips as a way to flirt is like. a wayne trait. 100% that family does that bc of bruce.

prompt lists are here! i reblog all fics to @sanguinelibrary

****

Business has been slow.

It's not like you expect your cafe to be packed to the rafters all day long, but you've had a grand total of four customers today. One of them only came in to ask where Starbucks was.

Frankly, you're not sure the cafe can afford to stay afloat for much longer. Gotham isn't known to preserve small businesses, and the conglomerates (cough, Wayne Enterprises) are taking over the world anyway.

So today is a reading day. You might even close early.

You're at a table in the back, so absorbed in Poirot's sleuthing that you don't hear the door open. It isn't until you turn the page and look up that you see your resident lurker waiting quietly at the display case. You flinch so hard that you spill iced tea on your jeans.

"Shit," you murmur, grabbing a wad of napkins and patting yourself dry.

Jason (as is written on his coffee cup) looks up from the pastries, teal eyes wide. You smile briefly at him. For such a big guy, his footsteps are astonishingly soft.

"Is everything okay?" he asks, voice rough like he doesn't speak much.

"Yeah, fine. You just startled me—I didn't hear you come in. Were you waiting long? Sorry about that."

"Oh. No, I wasn't. Sorry." He shifts weight between his feet. "You seemed pretty engrossed in your book. I didn't, uh, want to disturb you."

"Oh, hey, don't worry about that! It's literally my job to be here," you say, though you can't help but melt over how freaking sweet that is.

Jason visits you a minimum of twice a week. He's been coming for a couple of weeks. You know a whole three things about him: he's a university student, he pretty much only dresses in red or black, and he's unfairly cute.

At first, you were reasonably wary of him because it's Gotham, and he's so damn quiet. It's a little scary. You thought maybe he was an undercover spy casing the joint. Now you know he's just awkward.

"Slow day?" he asks.

"Slow year, more like. How are you? How was your exam?"

He blinks. "Exam?"

"Didn't you have an American lit exam last week?"

"Oh. Uh, yeah. Wow. Yes, I did. It was okay. Got an A."

"That's great! I knew you'd ace it."

His cheeks turn pink. Okay, you actually know four things about him: he blushes a lot.

You go to start the coffee machine. "Do you think you'll—"

"I-I have to go."

You watch, stunned, as he hurries out the door. That's when you notice the fifty dollar bill in your tip jar.

You don't know if you should bring up yesterday. Jason's back; that probably means everything's fine, right? You're not sure if you said something wrong, though. You've gone over the interaction a hundred times since and you can't figure out why he's so skittish around you.

"Hi. Hibiscus tea, please," he says, stoic as always.

You prepare his order, yesterday's interaction still fresh in your head. You should say something, shouldn't you? Or...

"Sorry about yesterday," Jason blurts, so fast you almost miss it. "Running out, I mean. I was, uh—I forgot something."

Well. Looks like he's going to bring it up for you.

"Oh, you don't have to apologize! If I said something wrong..."

Jason shakes his head fervently. "No, God no. You're perfect."

Your eyebrows shoot up. He turns red this time.

"I mean—not perf—well, you're amazing, don't get me wrong! Except, like, what is perfect, y'know? My brother has gotten into the habit of calling everything perfection like some kind of sitcom character. Alfred will make pie, and Dick'll go, "Alfie, that was perfection." And I feel like it's such an exaggeration—"

Jason's mouth snaps closed. He rubs his forehead.

"Um, I actually have chronic foot-in-mouth disease. It gets really, stupidly bad. Sorry."

You're trying hard not to giggle. You want to smother him in frosting and take a bite.

"You're really sweet, you know that?" you say.

"I'm really not," he says with a sigh.

"Not true. Can you do me a favor?"

"Anything."

You go into the kitchen and return with your latest experiment: matcha cream puffs.

"Do you mind trying these for me? You're not allergic to anything, are you?"

Jason's shoulders hunch. "Are you sure you want my opinion?"

"Of course I'm sure," you say happily. "I trust you."

"You trust me," he repeats quietly.

"Yup!"

Jason takes a puff and bites. He starts to nod.

"It's really good. You're really—all your creations are—yeah. It's good."

You squint. "No notes? Really?"

"They're perfection, as my brother would say."

Fuck, you like him so much.

"Have another one," you say, pushing the tray towards him.

"I shouldn't—"

"Wait! I'll pack you some!" you interrupt, flitting back to the kitchen to get a Tupperware.

Jason helplessly accepts the container of puffs you shove into his hands.

"Let me pay-" he tries to say, but you shake your head.

"Nope! I won't accept payment for these. Not from my favorite customer."

"Your favorite?"

"My favorite," you confirm, grinning.

"Oh." His ears turn pink as he walks to the door, cream puffs in hand. "Uh, right. Thanks. See you tomorrow."

"Jason? Don't you want your tea?"

"Shit. Yeah." He returns to the counter and takes his drink. This he insists on paying for, so you let him, because you do have rent to pay, after all.

"So nice to see you!" you add, because the stiffness in his gait is kind of throwing you off.

He just nods, slipping out the door as quietly as he came.

Today, Jason's in a red workout tank. You have to make the conscious effort to not ogle his arms.

"Hey, Jason!" you say cheerily.

"Hi," he says softly.

"The usual?" you ask, and he looks up in surprise.

"You know my order?"

You gently roll your eyes. "Of course I know your order, silly. Favorite customer, remember?"

"Oh." He looks away, brow furrowed. Then he turns to you and his expression smooths over. "Yes, please. Thanks."

"Sure. Give me one second? I just have to finish decorating some sugar cookies."

"Take your time," Jason says, then goes to skulk by the window.

The door is suddenly swung harder than necessary, thumping the glass.

"Hey!"

You look up from the cookies. A man in a suit is waving his phone impatiently.

"I ordered a dozen muffins. Where are they, huh?" he demands.

"Oh, right! Well, you called ten minutes ago, so they won't be ready till six, sir. Can I get you something while you wait?"

He scoffs and stomps to the counter. You almost back down, but you don't; that's exactly what these bullies want.

"This is exactly why no one eats at dinky cafes like yours. You can't even do this!" he fumes, shoving a finger in your face.

"Sir, like I said, the muffins are baking..."

"I know the city's health inspector personally," the man spits viciously. "One call, and I can—"

"Say one more word."

You blink as Jason is suddenly between you and the customer, stood at his full height. He's all muscle and broad shoulders, looming over the guy. You peek around him.

"What the fuck, man?" the angry customer squawks. "Move!"

"No, you move," Jason says, tone lethal. "Sit quietly at a table and wait for your muffins to bake. Then you can thank the nice baker for waiting on your sorry ass and you're not gonna come back. They have far more patience for entitled fucks than I do."

"Fuck you," the man spits.

Jason calmly closes the distance between them and whispers in his ear, hand like a vice around the jerk's shoulder. You watch as he turns pale, eyes growing wider.

"Sound good?" Jason asks pleasantly, all teeth. The man gapes at him.

Wow. Yeah. This is really doing something for you.

The oven dings. You go to retrieve the muffins, packing them as quickly as possible. You give him the box and the man nods.

"Thanks," he mumbles, then scurries out of the store.

Jason turns to you, and it's like looking at a completely different person.

"You okay?" he asks, posture stiff like he's still prepared for a fight.

You nod, a little dazed.

"Yeah. Wow. Jason, I... you didn't have to do that. I mean, thank you for doing it, but..."

"Hey, that guy was a jackass. And if you have trouble with him or anyone else, call me, okay?"

This side of him stuns you. If you didn't know better, you'd think he had this exchange regularly.

"Call you?" you ask, smiling. "How will I call you if I don't have your number?"

He freezes, eyes wide. "Oh. Uh. Um..."

You lean over, elbows on your counter. He watches you. You cup your hand around your mouth, pretending to divulge a secret.

"This is where you, the cute guy who frequents my struggling cafe, gives me your number."

"You think I'm cute?" he asks.

"Devastatingly so," you say, grinning.

He's quiet for a long moment. Your smile starts to dim.

"Did I read this wrong?" you ask. "If I came off too strong..."

"No!" he says a little too loud. Jason winces. "Sorry. No. I... you're... fuck, I'm not good at this. I don't even really drink tea or coffee, to be honest. I just come in to see you."

"You do?"

Jason sighs. "Yeah. Shit. That's creepy, isn't it?"

You laugh and he visibly softens.

"No, Jason," you say warmly. "It's sweet."

"So can I still ask you on a proper date? Not coffee."

You grin. "That would be perfection."

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood x y/n #batman fanfiction #red hood fanfiction #jason todd fanfiction #coffee shop au #bakery au #dc fanfiction #inbox #blurb

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jasonsmirrorball · 10 months

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HALLWAY CRUSH JASON TODD (college!au)

↳ he's your boyfriend, but you've still got a massive crush on him

Four long, boring hours loom ahead of you when you walk to campus on Monday morning. Lectures all packed closely within the same building, on the same floor, you dread the day. Winter leaves your hands numb as you walk towards the building you’ll be spending your time in today, and you curse yourself for forgetting your gloves, sticking stiff fingers into your pockets.

There is only one other person in the lecture theatre when you walk in, sitting off to the side. You offer them a polite nod when their eyes meet yours, and continue up the stairs to take a seat, thankful for the warmth in the room. The both of you are early, and it’s quiet in the room as you take out your things, the faint smell of something lingering in the air, not entirely unpleasant, but peculiar in the way of old lecture halls.

It’s this smell you have to endure for the next two hours. When the hour draws closer to 9 and the rest of the few students who actually bother to show up to lectures in person begin to trickle in, you’re already fighting off a yawn and wishing you’d gotten coffee from one of the vending machines in the lobby.

You switch your phone on and off, peering down at the lockscreen fondly. The black and white photobooth strip stares back, three rectangular photos stacked atop each other. The dark haired boy in the picture winks through the pixels at you, and you hide a grin. When your professor walks in and begins to set up, you tuck your phone away, finding a bit of comfort in the pretty smile of a lover.

It only lasts so long, however, and you’re soon back to staring grumpily at a set of slides and fighting back tears at the strength of your yawns–you’ve gone through so many in the last twenty minutes it’s getting rude. It isn’t his fault, your poor old professor, that he speaks so slowly, or that you’re not made for morning classes. After yet another yawn, you rub your eyes tiredly, trying to make sense of what he’s saying.

The text comes through in the middle of your lecture, an hour into the history of corporations, and you flick your gaze down to the bubble that appears over your lockscreen. Your boyfriend’s contact photo accompanies the message, and you bite back a grin, reading the two words.

>> look up

Confused, you glance up to the door of the lecture theatre that looks out into the hallway, propped ajar with an old textbook. In the background, your lecturer takes a question, and you really should be listening, but you’re wondering whether the message was actually meant for you and then–

Jason, stupidly handsome, and bright eyed, walks past the door, peering in and grinning when you make eye contact. You just about jolt in your seat, unable to contain your own smile when he glances at your professor and shoots you a cheeky wink. Idiot, you think fondly.

He’s gone before you can blink, leaving you to return to the class once more. Only, how can you, when you’ve got to settle your silly little lovesick heart, grinning like a fool?

>> you’re so pretty baby

And just when you think you’ve got a handle on your heart, the butterflies spring forth anew with his next text.

i had to sit in the same lecture theatre for FOUR hours today can you believe. anyway made eye contact with everyone walking outside because i was so tired and i just kept imagining this stupid (affectionate) boy walking past and timing his text so you'd see him when you look up. because this is fanfiction. and i can make him do that!

this is separate from the last college!au piece but you can imagine it to be set in the same au if you want! i just think boyfriend jason in a college au is something that can be so special

#jasonsmirrorball #jason todd imagine #jason todd x reader #jason todd reader insert #jason todd fic #x reader #jay my heart #jersey boy au #jason todd college!au

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lightwing-s · 2 months

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𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐏𝐒

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐯𝐢 ; 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐦

pairing: jason todd x fem! reader

summary: It was a normal night, till he had to look for you. And then, the storm began.

rating: 18+ (MDNI)

word count: 8k warnings: pregnancy, talks of abusive parents, mentions of abortion.

a/n: as Jesus is reborn, so am I! Happy Easter to everybody that waited so long for this chapter to come out. I'm sorry it took me so long, but I got so busy this past month that if I hear anyone say 'illicit trade' or 'online trafficking' I might kill somebody lol. I hope this chapter compensates for the time, though. It is mostly Jason's pov, with references to the reader as she/her rather than you because I thought it might sound better. Idk, lmk if it's weird lol.

a/n 2: also, I can't begin to thank everyone for the incredible support in this series. I've got so many messages that had me on the verge of tears with happiness and how sweet they were. I trully hope I'm capable of continuing to bring you guys joy through this series and other stories. I love you all, and thank you so much for allowing me to finally let my ideas become words, and my words to have meaning

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ! ♡

links: previous ; next ; series masterlist ; general masterlist

A cold shiver ran up Jason’s spine. The soft breeze coming off the opened fridge climbed up his shirtless torso, drying the sweat on his skin and leaving it cold and sticky. The nearly freezing water slid down his throat, giving him the refreshment he craved for after a long session of training, and an even longer day of work.

It was finally over. His session, his day, his week. Saturday couldn't have come sooner. Sighing in relief, he refilled the water bottle, shoved it back into it’s previous place and turned on his heel heading for a much needed shower. He was tired. Drained. And all he wanted to do was drop down in his bed and sleep for a whole entire night.

Picking out his phone from his joggers’ pocket, he took one last peek at the screen. Almost 10:00pm, and a weather report of an incoming rainstorm soon. Perfect, he thought. He loved to sleep to the sound of rain. So, he locked his phone, threw it on the sofa, and rushed to the bathroom, hoping to get a shower before it got too cold, leaving fast enough to get to bed before the raindrops started to fall.

He stripped down his pants in front of his mirror, a quick stop to admire his progress. Chest, arms, and back. All proof of his hardwork and commitment. And yet, a reddish mark by his neck was what really caught his attention. Roy had poked fun at it earlier, but his joke couldn’t be farther from the truth. A bug bite, as simple as that. An allergic reaction to a stupid bug. But that stupid reaction, that stupid mark, brought him back to the last time something like that was left on his skin.

Yn had left with countless marks after that brief session in a stranger’s office. Enough to last him a while. But not more than the first time he had you, right under the same roof he was at now. Marks on his neck, on his chest, arms, and back. If he thought too long of it, he could feel her lips warming his skin, making his mind go crazy, and his blood to boil.

Shaking his head, he tried to keep those thoughts away. It wasn’t time. It wasn’t appropriate. Yn was now the mother of his child. Nothing more than that. He couldn’t keep the thought lingering. So, sliding the glass door open, he entered the shower, hoping to wash away all the thoughts off his mind.

As the cold water hit his shoulders, relief spread to his entire body, even if the chilling weather of the start of fall was not the most adequate for such water temperature. Sinking his head under the cascade, he closed his eyes, mind emptying, and peace reaching him after a long and rough week.

It was silent in his head. But it wasn’t enough.

He couldn’t wash his mind off of Yn. It was first the night he had you over, and under him, moaning his name repeatedly in his ear. He remembered how soft her skin felt, how light was her touch, and yet he couldn’t forget the burning pain her nails had left on his back.

He drowned in the memory of her intoxicating smell, and how the skin under her ear tasted sweet. For a moment, even through the freezing water, he swore he could feel her blood catching fire running through her body, warming him along the way through their skins, glued to one another, tangled in each other, in a night he would never forget.

And then came the memories of the second time. How annoyed she was, and how easily she gave in to him. It was like her body responded to his, knowing it was only him that could give him the pleasure she craved. He missed the feral, animalistic, feelings of that afternoon, and how she fit perfectly around him.

Stop, he thought to himself, opening his eyes to the bright room. This isn’t okay. But again, it was already too late. His throbbing cock rested against his lower abdomen, hard and leaking. He smelled his arousal mixed between the smell of his soap, and his hand reached for his tip, light touches already driving him insane. Resting his hand on the cold porcelain tile, he allowed his eyes to close again.

And then, he remembered the picture. Sent to him just a few hours earlier. It wasn't dirty. On the contrary, it was as innocent as one could be. It was her, playing along with a baby toy, those usually overpriced, but that could distract even a grown adult. And thus she was, distractedly playing with the toy as a picture was snapped without her acknowledgment, and probably sent to him without her knowing either. Her barely visible smile caught his eyes immediately.

For the almost six months he had known her, it wasn’t a sight he got to see often, but that had been gracing his presence much more frequently now. It was beautiful. To him, it was art. Pure and soft. Bright and warm. He could watch it all day. He remembered the first time she smiled at him, in his kitchen, over snacks and laughter. Just before he had her pinned under him in the most intense lovemaking session he’d ever had.

He cursed himself. How could he turn an innocent picture into fire for his wet dreams? But how could he stop thinking of the soft skin of her neck, almost the focus of that picture, when it was exposed right there just for him to see? How could he stop his mind from wandering when it had been so long he had been with anyone? When he had been with her.

Only a few touches brought him his high, spilling all over his wall like a firetruck. Gosh, he hasn’t fucked anyone in so long it was almost pittyful. Feeling himself grow soft, he sunk himself in the water again, washing his face ferociously to wash the shame away. He wasn’t religious, but he prayed he could keep you out of his mind. He couldn’t keep doing it. Things had changed. It wasn’t appropriate. Fuck.

He walked to his bedroom with only a towel wrapped around his waist. Straight to his closet where, after a few minutes of searching, he found the new pair of sweatpants he had gotten. Gray like all others he owned. Putting it on, he returned to the kitchen, threw himself on the sofa, and prayed, while watching the darkened ceiling, that he could keep her out of his mind.

Soon closing his eyes, the darkness and the tiredness sank him into sleep. Letting go of lights and noises coming from the outside, he allowed the quietness to embrace him. However, his peace didn’t last long.

Underneath him, he felt the incessant vibrations of his phone, even if he couldn’t seem to find the device anywhere. It was just as the phone had stopped that he found it hidden between the pillows, and he unlocked the screen to a scary surprise.

Yn 6 Missed Calls

“What the fuck!” he screamed out loud, worry slowly creeping up his chest, weighing it down and making it hard to breathe.

She didn’t call him. Never. Not one single time. He was the one to always call and message to check if she was okay, or to start any conversation. Something must have happened, and going by the sheer number of times she had tried to contact him, it wasn’t good. Quickly unlocking his phone, he typed on the notification, calling Yn back straight away. She didn’t take long to pick up.

“Yn, what happened?” he questioned as soon as she picked up.

“Oh, thank god!” He heard from the other line, but the voice wasn’t hers. “Jason, It’s Vanessa here. Nessie. Yn’s friend.”

“H-hi, Vanessa,” he greeted through his wavering voice. “What happened? Where’s Yn?” he inquired. He wasn’t only met with silence from the other line, although Vanessa’s tense breathing indicated she was still on the call. With a demanding voice, he asked one more time, “Vanessa?”

“Jason…” She took a deep breath. “Yn is gone.”

It felt as if a heavy weight pulled his heart down, as it dropped lower than it ever had. Yet, his mind was empty, none of Vanessa’s words making sense to him. Yn was gone. Gone where? Why? Where was gone? He had so many questions, yet only once made it out of his lips.

“What?!” his voice faltered.

“She’s gone. I don’t know where to.” Vanessa’s voice too was shaky, and seemed to be holding back tears from falling down. “I heard everything through the walls but I was too afraid to go out and find him, because he scares the shit out of me. He’s really huge, you know, he could easily knock me down if I tried to help her,” Vanessa was rambling, and he could hear her incessant steps, as if she couldn’t keep herself still. “And they were fast too, by the time I got the courage to come out they were already gone, and…”

“Vanessa, calm down,” he requested, already fishing for a t-shirt and shoes from his bedroom. Whatever it was she was trying to tell him, it was worrying. Had someone taken her? Why?

“ ’m sorry. I-I just… I got her phone by accident. She accidentally left me with it when she handed me her shopping bags. So I’ve tried calling you ever since.”

“Are you at home?” he asked and got a hum in responde. “I’m coming over, okay? I’ll be there in a second. But who took her, Nessie, please. Who was it?”

“No one took her,” she started to explain, pausing for what sounded to be a glass of water. Jason too prepared a glass before he left. “Her dad kicked her out. He found out she was pregnant.”

“He did what?!” he nearly screamed on the line, blood beginning to boil. He hadn’t heard much about her parents, but taking by how shaken about the pregnancy at first, he had no doubts they were partially responsible for her nervousness.

“He found out she was pregnant and kicked her out of her apartment,” she repeated. “Well, technically it’s his apartment, he pays for ever- But it doesn’t matter now. She’s gone and we have to find her! She was crying, a lot, and she left with only a backpack and a small suitcase. She can’t have taken much…”

“And it’s going to rain,” Jason added, already sitting in his car after flying down his building’s stairs. It wasn’t just rain, but a storm. She can’t be out in a weather like that, I have to find her. “Wait for me downstairs. I’ll be in front of your apartment in just a minute. I promise we’ll find her.”

“Vanessa!” he screamed at the girl standing on the sidewalk, looking left and right before turning to face the voice that had just called her. Jason had parked by the entrance of the building, fancy enough to have its own doorman and a beautifully decorated lobby behind its glass front doors. “How are you? Have you got any news?”

“I’m fine. At least trying to. And no news of her yet. I tried looking up and down the street, but she’s not around here anymore.” She looked at him apologetic, eyes now evidently holding back a pool of tears.

“She can’t have gone far. She was walking, right?” he asked, looking around at the still fast moving traffic on that grim Saturday night. The sky was starless, and heavy clouds filled it instead.

“I’m so sorry, Jason,” Vanessa apologized, making him turn. Her chin trembled as her tears fell from her brown eyes. “I heard it all and couldn’t do anything. I’m so, so sorry.”

“Hey, Nessie,” he tried to soothe her, calling her by the familiar nickname he so often heard coming off Yn’s lips, and wrapping her in a friendly hug. “It’s not your fault. There wasn’t much you could do. But, please, tell me everything that happened. I’m still trying to understand it.”

Breaking off from his hug, Nessie ran her hands up and down her arms in search of warmth before looking up to meet Jason’s eyes. “Her dad is an asshole.” Oh really?, he thought. “We were coming back from the mall, you know. I sent you the picture while we were there.” He nodded. “When we arrived back her door was open, and it usually means that her parents are around. So she shoved me all of her bags before her mother could snoop in and claimed they were for my cousin’s baby shower. Before I knew it, there was screaming outside and when I went to look, her mother was weirdly pacing around and Yn and her dad were nowhere to be found.

“I thought of running down the stairs, but the elevator was already on the ground floor and I knew I couldn’t make it on time. So I just looked down the window and saw him pushing her into the streets. Her bags as well. I couldn’t understand what he said, but he was still screaming at her. Jason,” she called him, but his attention hadn’t gone anywhere. “She looked so scared, even from that far. I could see her crying, on the floor, and walking down the street. I heard movement, so I hid back in my apartment. I even heard a knock on my door, but I was too scared to open and just started calling you.”

Jason’s rage slowly grew as Vanessa continued her story. How could anyone treat family like that? He couldn’t picture treating his mother, father, or any of his siblings like that. And he specially could never imagine doing something similar to his own daughter. Whoever that man was, he wasn’t a father. He was a fucking monster he wanted to beat up so bad…

“Since she moved here for college he keeps trying to take her back to their hometown, because he says Gotham is a corrupt city and that it will “corrupt” his “baby” daughter,” Vanessa continued her story. “From what she told me, they frequent this church, and he’s seen as this “model citizen”. A joke, let me tell you. He was always controlling of her and her sisters, and they couldn’t ever walk out of line or it would ruin it for him, whatever he meant.

“I’m not sure if it’s up to me to tell you this, but it's not the first time he kicked a daughter out of home. He found out her sister kissed another girl at a party and threw her out. I guess having an unmarried pregnant daughter does the same to him and he kicked Yn too.

“I swear,” Jason ran a hand on his face. “I can kill this man.”

“Get in line. Although I do think you have more chances than me,” she tried to joke and Jason let out a dry laugh. He really could kill that man. With every single word from Vanessa, he only got worse.

A few drops of water hit his head, announcing the rain he eagerly waited for earlier was about to start. “We have to go before the rain gets heavier. She can’t be on the streets in a fucking storm.”

“I called a friend to help us look for her. He’s just by the corner. We can split up and find her quicker,” Nessie informed, waving her hand at a car that parked just before the two of them. She fixed her belt in the passenger seat while Jason rested his forearms on the window.

“You go down the street and look for her south. I’ll go north and look for her there. Nessie, please call me if you…” he instructed the guy when exalted voices caught his attention. Coming out of the glass doors of the modern apartment complex, a large man and his wife walked out of the building in a loud exchange, aiming for the taxi that had parked just behind Nessie’s friend black SUV. “Is that him?”

The sudden change in his tone frightened Vanessa, and she stood quiet for a while until she responded with quite uncertainty, “Y-yeah.”

In that moment, Jason’s knuckles turned white from how hard he gripped on the car’s window, and his face turned a bright shade of red. Letting go of the car, Vanessa’s scream wasn’t enough to stop him from stomping in the pair’s direction, not even her repeated attempts to hold at his wrist. He shook her hold easily, legs moving fast as he eyes were set on the man responsible for all of this.

Jason exhaled a trembling breath through his nose, and he could hear his own heart thumping in his chest. His arms hung as hard as stone to his sides, and his nails dug deep into the skin of his palms. There were a few blurry sports in his sight, and his eyes burned with anger. He was seeing red, both figuratively and literally, as the neon lights of a store close by shone brightly in shades of scarlet, painting the man’s frame in its bright colors.

The large frame of the man was closer. The bald spot in his head, now much more visible. He didn’t know the man’s name, nor how looked. They never shared a word, or even a glimpse at each other. But Jason knew, oh he knew, that he would never, ever again, let him step a foot close to his girl. He would never treat you like he did, and he would pay for it even if it came little by little.

That man would never get close to his child and its mother, and he would make sure he remembered his name. Or the feel of his punch.

“Hey!” Jason called him with a loud growl. The old man turned in his direction immediately, unaware of the fist flying into his face.

The man all but fell to the ground with a loud thud, as his wife screamed in despair. His rage not vanishing after he knocked the man down, Jason climbed on top of him, throwing punches left and right to the man’s face and stomach, until he felt his hands aching and he was pulled away from him by two pairs of strong arms.

“Stop! Jason, let go!” Vanessa screamed as he squirmed in the two men’s arms, wanting to go back to the man who failed to sit up while his wife cleared his bloody lips.

“Get over it, mate. Let’s find her,” said Vanessa’s friend, and just then he let it go.

His hand shook as he held the steering wheel. Knuckles bloodied and in throbbing pain. He still drowned in adrenaline from the well beat up he gave Yn’s excuse of a father. Vanessa’s friend, Dale, had followed him to the car to make sure he was alright to drive, but Jason assured him he was fine. The man got what he deserved, and Jason was glad he was the one to deliver it.

Alone in his car, however, he could finally allow his emotions to come out. As he drove up the opposite direction of Dale’s car, a loud scream left his lungs. Pure rage evaded his body, as his eyes burned with tears he hardly fought against.

Why is it that when it comes to us it is always so messy? Why can’t we catch a break?, he thought. From day one, everything with you was confusing, borderline stressful most of the time. He wanted better, quieter and more peaceful days. If he was having a hard time with all that is happening, he couldn't fathom how she’d be doing right now. And the baby. It certainly wasn’t healthy for the baby.

The lights became blurry as he tried to wipe the tears away, and he had to slow down his car to not cause any unwanted accidents. With the lower speed, he could more carefully watch the sidewalks, the remaining open stores, and street corners, all looking for any sign of her. At a traffic light, red made him stop, and his eyes roamed his surroundings.

However, the blinking lights of a ‘C’ were what trapped his attention. It was a clinic. An abortion clinic. He had to swallow dry as he tried to watch its inside through the glass door. The mere idea of Yn going by it making his heart drop. If that idea ever crossed her mind, he didn’t know, but he prayed it never did. He grew attached to it too quickly. To the baby, and to her. He’d been planning, purchasing, painting and drawing a future in his head, where the two of them would be a part of. He wasn’t sure he could let it go.

When the lights turned green, his foot pressed hard on the throttle, speeding out of there before he got even more nauseous. One street turned into another, and another, and another. Still not a sign that you were around. He was growing more and more desperate as the rain got heavier and heavier. If his hands weren’t hard glued to the steering wheel, they’d be trembling tremendously. It had been long since he’d felt like this. Alone, lost and desperate. A sense there wasn’t much else he could do, and that all he did didn’t seem to work. And as every single second passed without you there by his side, his anxiety multiplied by millions.

The rain now poured, as if the sky was about to fall down. People rushed around, their umbrellas doing nothing to shield them from the water, and coats and jackets getting drenched as they looked for shelter. He was driving desperately, looking for anything, any sign, any indication that you were safe. He checked his phone for messages from Vanessa, or a call from his brothers he had begged for help.

Dick had called his colleagues, giving them Yn’s description, asking them to keep an eye out. Tim and Stephanie were looking for you in every camera they would hack in the city, and Damian was probably begging rats and insects to lead him Yn’s way.

A lighting strike hit the ground and illuminated the sky. And then he saw it.

Hidden in the darkened entrance of a now closed store, sat on the floor, curled down in a corner, was a girl. A bright orange suitcase laying beside her, a blue backpack resting on her side, as she had her face shoved between her knees. Shaking, from cold and tears. A girl that couldn’t be anyone but you.

He stopped the car without thinking. Without caring if there was anyone behind him on the road. He just wanted to get to you. Stepping out, he felt the rain soak his head and his shirt, but he didn’t care. All he cared about was that he’d found you. Shouting into Gotham’s dark and gloomy night, he called her name and rushed to your side.

Her head bobbed up as quickly as he ran, and it searched around for the voice was coming from. When she realized it was him, she pulled herself up from the floor swiftly and into Jason’s arms, tangling her own around his waist and letting her face fall into his chest. Her tears soaked his shirt quicker than rain had done, and she shook in his hold and her loud sobs filled Jason’s ears.

His heart broke in one million pieces. The sight of her crying once again, too much for him to handle. He couldn’t even care for the harsh way in which she had slammed against his body, he was just glad you were there. Safe and in his arms. Thus, he held closer and tight, one hand caressing her nape and he left soft kisses at her temples.

“Hey, hey,” he cooed. “I’m here, okay? I’m here. You don’t need to cry anymore.”

Vanessa and Dale didn’t take long to arrive, but Yn didn’t stop crying even after they arrived there. The two girls, tangled in a tight embrace, cried on each other’s shoulders and the rain dropped as heavy as their tears did. Jason, on the other hand, tried to dry his eyes without anyone noticing, wiping the sleeve of his shirt on his face and turning away.

“You gave that man a good punch out there,” Dale’s raspy voice began by his side, bringing his attention away from the walls. “I would’ve done just about the same if it was my girl who was kicked out like that. Your girl should be happy she has you.” He tapped Jason’s shoulder, that way boys always do, and Jason let out a chuckle.

His girl. Yn was as much his girl as he owned the moon, and yet, he couldn’t make himself correct him.

“I just hope she will be fine.”

“I’ve heard she’s a strong one,” she chimed.

“Yeah!” he agreed with a smile. “My girl really is.”

Watching the two girls, he noticed Vanessa wipe Yn’s tears away, pushing her away then bringing her back into another hug that made Yn give out a teary laugh. She seemed to have calmed down, as no more tears ran down frenetically down her cheeks and her breathing seemed to have eased. Jason, then, decided to walk closer, with the other man trailing just behind. Yn soon took notice, as she gave him a smile as he approached.

“Are you gonna be fine?” Vanessa asked, rubbing a hand over her arm.

“I don’t know,” Yn answered. Her voice was weak, hoarse and fragile. “I don’t have anywhere to go.”

Jason noticed her chin restart to tremble, and he was about to hug her again if Vanessa wasn’t closer and quicker. Over her friend’s shoulder, Yn’s teary eyes caught his, staring at him sadly. Pulling away from the hug, Vanessa made an offer.

“I can make some space in my apartment for you. It isn’t big but I guess I make it fit, right?”

Giving her friend a soft smile, Yn appeared to agree.

“No!” Jason protested, louder than he had hoped. “I have a spare room. I was planning on fixing it for our baby, but you can stay there. It’s yours. Besides, it would be more practical,” he explained. “I can easily take you to appointments, or even for work. I wouldn’t mind. And when the baby arrives, I can help you with taking care of it.”

He eyed Yn hopefully. “C’mon. I’m the baby’s dad. I wouldn’t be right if I didn’t help you out.”

“I just don’t wanna be a bother,” Yn said.

“Yn, you could never bother me,” he stated.

Staring at her, Jason waited expectantly. He knew she was weighing every option and considering every mild detail. But he just wanted her to say yes. He wanted to have her near. It wasn’t just convenient, it was necessary. To him it was. To have her close meant to always know if her and the baby were alright, safe and taken care of. He wouldn’t worry if she had arrived home, or if she had gotten sick at work. He would know. Because he would be there.

Yn took her time thinking, while Jason agonized in his spot. He had built too much hope in such a short amount of time, he was scared of how he would be if she didn’t accept his proposal. After all, he was just the stranger she was having a baby with, not her best friend. But a response came out, eventually. Nodding shortly, Yn offered him a smile and a watery stare. A stare that said everything she didn’t need to voice, but that he caught anyway. Thank you.

“I’ll miss my neighbor,” Vanessa cried out, and hugged Yn tightly by her side.

“I’ll miss you too, nugget,” Yn returned. “But I’m sure Jason won’t forbid you from visiting me.”

“Would I even have the chance to?” Jason asked playfully.

“No!” they replied in unison, bringing out laughter out of the four of them. Even though the rain progressively got worse, finally, the mood had lightened.

Vanessa offered her jacket so Yn could get in the car without getting wet, and Jason was about to take her bags when Dale stopped him before he moved. “Take care of your girl, I’ll take the bags.”

Nodding in gratitude, Jason instead moved to your side. “Did you manage to get a lot? I mean, out of your apartment. Into your bags?”

Yn only shook her head.

“I can ask Mr. Emmons for the spare key and pick up some of your stuff,” Vanessa said, walking beside her. “He loved you, I’m sure he’d make that exception for you.”

“Are you sure?” Yn asked. “I really don’t wanna bother anyo…”

“Yn!” Jason and Vanessa scolded in unison.

“I’m sorry,” Yn let out a soft laugh. “If you want to, I won’t complain.”

It was past midnight when both Vanessa and Dale left Jason’s apartment. With them, four trash bags full of Yn’s stuff were brought in, and thus started Yn’s moving process. The girls worked on taking notes of everything that had come in the bags, and of everything there was missing. Vanessa was going to play dealer for a few days, and weirdly, she was very excited for it.

While they worked on the bags, Jason and Dale took a look at the spare bedroom. It was nearly empty, except from a few gym items and boxes laying around. With the other’s help, Jason cleared out the room, sweeping the floors and the spider webs off the walls. Also, he made a promise to find her a bed, somewhere. No one cared enough for dinner that night, and the pair left as nonchalantly as they had arrived.

“You can stay in my bedroom tonight. I’ll take the sofa,” Jason explained, once the two of them were alone. “At least until I can get you a bed.”

“It’s okay,” Yn reassured, and left him alone to take a shower.

While she readied to go to bed, Jason made sure he picked up everything he would need to sleep in the living room out of his bedroom. He didn’t want to bother her by coming in and out of it while she was there. He knew she was going to be uncomfortable enough for today, this new arrangement requiring time to get used to. So, he changed into comfortable clothes, prepped his makeshift bed with pillows and blankets, and waited for her to come out of her shower.

The faint water noises coming from the bathroom mixed with the storm sound coming from outside, creating a relaxing atmosphere he was grateful for after all the stress he’d gone through. He could only hope Yn felt as calm as he did now, that she wasn’t hiding any tears from him in her shower. But he knew it was asking for too much, she was not going to get over it this easily. She had cried a lot in the car ride to his apartment, and when he passed by the bathroom door he could hear her sniffles.

It killed him to see her like that. He’d do just about anything to make her stop hurting. Sat on the sofa, he thought about everything in his reach he could possibly attempt to do to ease her pain, but none of them were possible this late at night. However, as soon as the door opened and Yn came out, her hair wet and fresh smell spreading through the whole apartment, his thoughts emptied out to just her.

“I guess I’m going to bed now,” she shyly stated. Jason simply nodded, too stunned with how she looked in just a plain t-shirt and pajama shorts to form any coherent sentence. “Goodnight, Jay.”

“Good night, Ynie,” was all he said as he watched her close his bedroom door behind her.

“And Jay,” she suddenly reopened the door calling out for him. “Thank you for letting me stay here.”

Her soft smile was genuine, adorable, and made his stomach spin. In normal circumstances, he’d have told her she didn’t need to thank him for anything. Tonight, though, he didn’t want to argue.

“You’re welcome,” he offered her a gentle grin. But I’d make this your home even if you had yours.

Upon his return to solitude, he hoped the sounds of the night would lull him to sleep. He was tired, and on any other night he’d have dozed off easily. However, tonight wasn’t the case. Even if he closed his eyes, even if he was curled up comfortably, he couldn’t seem to fall asleep. He continuously rolled and rolled until he got tired of trying. So he fished for the remote in the total darkness of the room, and turned on the TV, the volume on the lowest, to see if anything in there could make him sleepy.

He had found a cartoon. One of those late night, highly inappropriate ones, and actually found it to be mildly entertaining. But the creaking sound of the door was more interesting. Lifting his head slowly to look over the back of the sofa, he found Yn peeking out of his bedroom.

“Can’t fall asleep?” he asked, and she just nodded. “Come here.”

Sitting up, he made some space for her to sit beside him, making sure he left her with the softest pillows. Adorably, she sat down and immediately pulled her legs up to her chest, hugging it protectively, and resting her chin on her own knees.

“What are you watching?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. However, his attention was now far gone from the TV. “I just put it on to distract me. See if I could fall asleep to it.”

Moments of silence followed. Yn’s focus on the cartoon, while Jason was fixed watching her. She looked so serene, it didn’t even look like she had just been kicked out by her own father. He wanted to ask her if she was alright, but he feared she would get mad with how much he had asked it since they’d arrived home. He also wanted to hug her, feel the comfort of her warmth and maybe fall asleep to it, but he knew it would be too much for one single day. So, he was content with the light brushes he’d get on her skin.

“Nessie told me what you did to my dad,” she said suddenly, and Jason got nervous about what she thought of it. It was still her dad, even with all the pain he had caused. He was afraid she’d be mad at him for it. So, he had to explain himself.

“He deserved it,” he quickly added. His throat was dry, but he still insisted. “He deserved it for what he did to you. I could not…”

“I get it,” she broke him off. “It just… feels weird. I’m glad you did, but also not.”

He understood.

“I was mad at him at some point, and thought of doing it myself. But he is my dad. I don’t think I could do it if it ever came to it. Even if I collected all the anger I harvested throughout my entire life, I couldn’t lift a finger against him.”

Her head moved, now facing him with her cheek laid on her legs. Her eyes were intense, but sad. Glowing, but it wasn’t happiness.

“I get it,” he told her. “I really do.” And he continued to look at her till it gave him courage to finally ask. “Was he this bad your whole life?”

She shook her head. “He had his good moments. Few, but they were there. We just had to be doing something he’d actually be happy about.”

“He’d always make us take the classes he wanted. Go to places where he liked to go, and where his ‘friend’ could see him, you know, boast about how great his family was. Even our friends he got to pick. They had to be from church, and from rich families. People we could fawn over, grow attached to like vines. I guess he thought if we were friends with them, he would become friends with the parents, and what better than rich friends for you to parasite, right?

“I don’t even know how he let me come to Gotham in the first place. He made my sister marry young so she wouldn’t go away for college, so I don’t know how he didn’t try that on me too. I mean, he did try, but none of the guys were actually interested in pursuing me for him to insist on it… What?” he questioned when she heard him scoff.

“Why wouldn’t they be interested in you?” he let out before he knew it. Yn shyly hid her face from him before continuing.

“I kinda looked mad all the time.”

“Oh, really,” Jason mused, earning a slap on his bicep.

“I was just… an angry teenager,” he gave her a look. “And young adult too, okay?” she let out a brief laugh. “I don’t know why, I just was. Am. I don’t know. They were just always up my ass, and I guess it got me riled up. I could talk back to them, he might have killed me if I did. So I just… I just…”

“Stocked up with anger?” he finished for her.

“Yeah, I stocked up with anger. And didn’t know where to let it out,” she said, and went quiet for a while. “Was your family as insane as mine?”

“Sorta,” he scoffed. “They are wild, but not bad.”

He didn’t want to talk much, but she looked at him curiously. Almost begging him to talk.

“I was adopted when I was nine. My father had already adopted my older brother, and after me he got Tim, Steph and Cass, and then he found out he had a biological son that is just like him and annoying as shit. I’ll tell you, Damian is a lot. He adopted a cow and just told Bruce to deal with it. Kid is insane. ”

The girl looked at him baffled. A cow? Where would a middle class kid raise a cow in Gotham?

“That sounds… fun,” she gave him a big smile.

“Really?” he wondered.

“My family never did anything out of the ordinary,” she stated.

“My family doesn’t know what ordinary means,” he joked. The two of them laughed, TV show long ignored. Jason never forgot how, when she wanted it, her company could be so pleasant. He felt like she really listened to him, that she didn’t think his takes or stories were just a joke or meaningless. He actually enjoyed having her around, and hoped moments like this would become more frequent with her habiting the same place as him.

“You know,” he found the confidence to start speaking again. “I lied to you… That day at the doctor.”

Yn eyebrows frowned in a questioning look, and so, Jason continued. “I… My birth parents. I know who they are.”

He felt guilty that day. For lying so blatantly. But it was something too personal for him, something he hadn’t shared with many. It was a part of his life that still hurt him, even if years had passed, and he had finally gotten a new family. He wasn’t ready to share it then, not in front of a doctor, a total stranger. And he knew the risks of his lie. He was omitting important information for his baby’s health and future, but he wasn’t ready. In fact, he didn’t even know he was ready now. But Yn had been so honest, so open about that part of her life, one he knew now caused her much pain, that he felt the need to offer something back.

It was Yn’s soft hum that broke him from his thoughts and made him continue. “They were addicts. Very poor. I know they did the best the could to raise me, but their addiction was unstoppable. My dad started working with bad people to put food on the table. Last time I checked on him he was in jail. Might as well be dead by now, I haven’t cared to look him up.” His voice came out low, timid. A lump tightened his throat, making it hard for him to speak, but he still insisted. “My mom… She passed away. I’m not sure if it was the drugs, or if she got sick. I just remember her looking really bad.

“I was on the streets for a while, stealing tires and other things, when my father found me. He took me home, gave me food, and I haven’t left there ever since. I mean, I have my own home now, and life wasn’t easy there either, but they still are everything I have. I guess that’s why I grew attached to you so fast… I-I mean, the baby. The idea of the baby. I think I just wanted to have something that is really mine, that I can say I was the one to build and care for. My own family. I just got excited, you know. Let me show you something.”

Avoiding the tears by a millisecond, Jason stood up from his place and went to his closet. There, in the same place he had left it ever since he had bought it, he took the deep brown romper, with cute little ears and an even cuter fluffy tail. He saw it just a few days after Yn came to his apartment with the news he was going to be a dad, just as the idea started to settle in. He hadn’t told his brother, nor his father. The idea just lingering in his head, and once he found it on-line, he had to get it. He proudly got his baby’s first outfit on a whim. But it was too perfect to let it pass, and it was on sale too. It must have been a sign.

Walking fast back to the living room, he dropped at her side on the bouncy cushion. “I got this on-line I think two weeks ago. I thought it was adorable and I just needed to have it. I saw so many babies wearing those on the internet that I couldn’t stop picturing my own baby in one of them. Strolling around, you know. Stumbling on his, or hers, steps, or crawling around in it. Like an actual bear,” he let out a laugh, admiring the garment in his hand.

When he turned to look at Yn, though, he found her eyes watery. Her chin trembled as she bit her bottom lip, an attempt at making it stop. Jason wondered if he had said something wrong. If he had hurt her unknowingly. His own heart started to beat like crazy, bleeding pain upon her painful expression. “Yn? Did I say something wrong?”

“No!”, she cut him before he could finish. She dried her eyes with her hand and continued, “I’m just tired. It’s been a long day, Jay. I’m gonna head to bed.”

Placing a quick peck on his cheek, she might as well have run back to the bedroom. Her sniffles, barely audible. She left him alone, to his own torturing thoughts of what he might’ve just done to make her react like this. Or was it just the hormones? Did pregnant women just act like this?

No matter the answer, he stood in the darkness of the night and in the coldness of the rain. But the lingering burn of her kiss on his skin kept him warm, and could finally sleep soundly.

Sunday was quiet, and Nessie had spent the whole day by your side. Not much talking happened between you, her, or Jason. You just hung around, in silent company.

Jason, somehow, had gotten you a bed, and he and Dale, who had stopped by per Nessie’s request, built it in an instant. The room that was now to be yours wasn’t large, but it was enough. You had to learn to leave with enough now. Jason told you he would help you decorate as you wished, even though he had just painted the walls white in expectation of the baby’s gender. He sounded like he was full of ideas for a nursery, excitedly talking about items he had seen on-line or at stores. Nessie joked he might be the one nesting, and not you.

She left early this time, and your dinner with Jason was shared in silence. The two of them had tried to convince you to call in sick at work on Monday, to try to relax a bit more. Let your new reality sink in. But you knew you couldn’t. Sandra needed you, and you needed the distraction.

When morning came, the sun rays hit you straight in the face, the lack of curtains allowing the room to be bright and warm even if it was still early. You came out still in your pajamas, and immediately the smell of food filled your nose. The past few weeks of your pregnancy made you slightly wary of the smell’s potential to make you sick, but it was impossible to deny it smelled good and tasty.

“Good morning,” Jason greeted with a beaming smile. He seemed to be ready to head out to work. “I made you some breakfast. I’ve already eaten.”

“You got me feeling like a baby with all this food and stuff,” you commented. But it was true, he had been doing just about everything to make you feel comfortable and at home in his apartment.

“Hey! You are a baby,” he stated, and you scoffed. “At least while you don’t deliver my baby, you’re baby.”

You rolled your eyes at him, unable to hold back a smile. “Anyway, I have to go now. Are you really going to work today?” he asked. You just nodded. “Okay…” he breathed out. “If you need anything. And I mean, anything, don’t hesitate to call me. I’ll be ready to answer you whenever.”

“You don’t have to worry, Jay,” you started, but one notification from your phone stole your attention briefly. “I’ll be alright. I promise.”

Jason looked at you as if he didn’t believe your words. His deep blue eyes boring into yours as if he tried to catch your lie in them. With a deep and long exhale, he accepted, or at least he pretended, that you would be fine without him. “Still, call me, okay?”

“I will,” you promised. “But I don’t think I’ll need to.”

Sitting on the island stool, you took a look at the meal he had prepared you. It really did look as delicious as it smelled. But you suddenly weren’t hungry.

You watched him pick up his bags, put on his shoes and leave. The guilt eating at your chest the entire time. He waved you goodbye with a large grin, happy to be starting his week it seemed. Yet, this morning, you struggled. You couldn’t bring yourself to eat with the notification staring right at you. A memory of your darkest hour.

Picking up your phone, you read it one more time.

Clinic girl Are you still going to schedule your abortion appointment?

It still stung as strong as it did minutes ago, when you first saw it on your screen. Your mind battled with the idea, even though you knew your answer very well. The smell of the food suddenly was making you sick, and your appetite, by this point, had completely vanished. Rubbing at your temples, you decided on putting an end to it.

You It won’t be necessary.

Putting your phone away, you got up to change. And you changed quickly, just like your life had done. Quick and sharp like an arrow, or an assassin’s blade. Changing everything in its course. Soon, you were closing the apartment’s door behind you, taking one last glimpse of what your life had become. Of what your future was going to be. You and him. Your baby soon to come in.

tag list: @igotanidea ; @acornacreacure ; @amberpanda99 ; @capswife ; @erochuu ; @fairyeoll ; @gone-batty-fics ; @ichi-matsu-san ; @jasontoddslover ; @jaysgirlx ; @jkvolgs ; @just-lost-inbetween-worlds ; @killxz ; @kysrion ; @lacunaanonymoused ; @loonymoonystuff ; @lothiriel9 ; @marsbars09 ; @munimunni ; @novs9011 ; @spideytingley ; @starcrossedtrek ; @strawberryforks ; @sttrawberries ; @vanillaattack ; @veryfabday ; @vissavin ; @xxsweetnlowxx ; @willieoo ; @wordsfromshona ;

#jason todd au #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd #jason todd x you #jason todd fluff #jason todd x yn #jason todd x y/n #jason todd imagines #jason todd blurb #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x female!reader

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fcthots · 6 months

Note

thinking about fake dating jason and falling in love.

it happens slowly and quietly, so slow you don’t even notice it.

and then you turn around and you’re head over heels for him, no idea how it happened.

-🍓

Anon, if i ever gain the ability to write full fics, this is the first thing i'm writing.

might turn this into an au and let y'all request scenes (tattooartist!jason style)

It started off simple. He needed a date to the gala. the press was brutal and he was a Wayne. He didn't want to put anyone in that sort of spotlight. He had a dark past and didn't want anyone to get dragged into it. You were bored, needed a date to a wedding, and you cared about your friend. Also, it helped that he was willing to pay you because he felt bad about the whole press thing. It was nothing more than an arrangement between friends, a way for you to help him out. He's always been there for you, no matter what. You didn't think twice about returning the favor.

He was sweet in public. Held your hand, kissed your cheek, always asked if you were up for a kiss when he thought it was necessary. His hand was always warm and comforting on your waist. It grounded. you, kept you in the moment with him. You loved hanging out with him. The arrangement had let allowed you to hand out with him all the time, anywhere and everywhere. There were some comments made about you in the press, but the negative ones didn't bother you (how could they think you were the bad influence, secret identity or not, he was the one with murders under his belt!) and there were some nice things. You ha your past delved into, which wasn't exactly fun, but Jason had warned you it would happen and oracle made sure everything traceable wasn't bad. Overall, it was fun. You got to hang out with your best friend 24/7 and you got some new instagram followers and fun edits made of you along the way.

When it did inevitably get a little rough, Jason was there for you, like always. He took care of all the truly nasty things the press had to say about you. He always respected your boundaries, and he took you on vacation when it all got too much, even if he had to leave early for a Gotham emergency.

Things had to be believable, of course, so there needed to be couple's pictures on your social media. He needed to lay down with you. He needed to press his body up against yours. he needed to wrap his arms around you. He needed to draw you so close to him that there wasn't any given one inch of space in between you. He needed to press his face to your chest and close his eyes.

Right?

He just needed the picture to look believable. That was all.

So why did he stay cuddled into you? Why did he fall asleep there like he was made to fit? Like it was the only place he's ever wanted to be?

And why did it make you want.

After that, you spent all of your time wanting. Wanting more. The arrangement was perfect. It gave you everything it was supposed to. So why did you want more? Why did you wish Jason would stop apologizing when he said he had to kiss you? Why did your heart sink when his hands left yours after you were away from prying eyes? When did the edits people made of you go from fun to painful, a reminder of the way you wished he really looked at you? Why did you wish he wasn't faking it.

And, fuck that hurt, because he was just faking it all, right? He only looked at you like you were his world when someone else was looking. He didn't want you.

Not like you wanted him.

"Why do you look like that?" His voice shakes you out of your thoughts. Your eyes drift to him where he's sitting on the couch, his phone long forgotten timing out and turning off in his hand.

"What?" Your eyebrows had just lightly drawn together, your voice duller than usual.

"You look sad. What's on your mind?" His face looks a little worried. His eyes searched yours. You hope he can't see the truth lying beneath them.

What were you supposed to tell him? That this wasn't just a game to you anymore? That you can't stomach him holding your hand not because he means it? That you're taking advantage of him? That when he kisses you, you pretend it's real?

You don't meet his eyes. "I can't do this anymore."

#fake dating au #fakeboyfriend!jason #fake boyfriend!jason #saph’s love letters #jason todd #jason todd x reader #red hood #red hood x reader #saph’s thots #jason todd imagine #jason todd x you #red hood imagine #red hood x you #jason todd angst #jason todd x reader angst #red hood x reader angst #red hood angst #angst #🍓 anon

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fic-over-cannon · 6 months

Text

Words Left Unsaid

jason todd x f!reader

ao3 link

summary: jason todd is your childhood best friend. he dies before his Words come in, the first words his soulmate will say to him, and you have to pick up the pieces.

tags: soulmate au, major character death (temporary), grief

rated mature | wc: 8.8k

a/n: so this monster of a story was based on an ask i sent to @jasonsmirrorball a while back (don’t read for spoilers). it pretty much took on a life of its own, and now here we are nearly 9k later. it does get pretty dark in its exploration of grief, so please take care of yourselves my lovelies.

Everyone’s born with Words somewhere on their body, unreadable at first. The skin is shiny, like an old scar, the words blurry and undefined. One day, you’ll see the first words you’ll ever hear your soulmate say to you, that shiny patch of skin blooming like ink (there’s superstitions about the colour your Words fade into, as popular as astrology). The trick of the thing is, you won’t find out what your Words are until you’ve become the person who is meant to hear them. You could meet your soulmate a hundred times and not know it, not until you’ve both grown into the people you need to be. The youngest person to get their Words was seven, and the oldest 92 years young. Or so the stories go. When you’re young, still poking at your loose front tooth with your tongue, it’s a story that comforts you. It’s the story you beg your parents for before bed every night. It’s the carrot they use to get you to try new things and go new places. What if you meet your soulmate at the new movie theatre downtown? How do you know eating your veggies won’t develop you into who your soulmate needs you to be?

It’s what your mother uses to try and coax you out of the car for your first day at a new school. She’s driven you to school for your first day, a one off so she can finish up your admittance paperwork. In this moment you hate her for it. It’s February and the year is more than halfway over. The snow has melted into dirty grey slush in the streets and the pinching Mary Janes the school mandates as part of the uniform are going to provide no protection. It’s halfway through the year and you’re certain no one is going to be your friend at a new school in a new city. You’re twelve years old and to you this is the end of the world. You’re trying so hard not to cry, hugging yourself together and burying your chin in your chest.

“Come on, honey, this is a school. It’ll help you become who you need to be.”

Your mother’s voice is cajoling, trying to coax you out the same way she coaxed a stray cat into her arms. It worked on the cat, now named Haley after the comet, but it doesn’t work on you. She tries to catch your eye in the rear view mirror but you stubbornly turn your head to look out the window instead.

“Please. Work with me here. We’ll go in together, you’ll have a wonderful day and make so many friends. And after school, I’ll take you out for donuts and you can tell me all about it before your Dad gets home.”

You keep silent, continue to stare out the window at all the other kids walking into the building.

“Honey, please. Can you just do this one thing for me, please.”

She’s almost begging now, and you hate the way it makes her sound. You want to tell her how scared you are, how there’s nothing more you want to do except huddle under your covers in your unfamiliar bed and hold Haley close. But your fear is a hot ball in your chest, choking off any words that might come out. You look at her though, plead with her with your eyes to understand how much you don’t want to do this. She stares back at you, an exhausted slump to her shoulders and lines around her eyes you don’t remember being there. Slowly, you unwrap your arms from around your rib cage. Place a hand on each knobbly knee and slowly curl them into fists before nodding, once, sharply, eyes firmly fixed on the car seat in front of you. Your eyes burn, but the sigh of relief your mother heaves out is worth it.

Gotham Academy is housed in a collection of gothic stone buildings which should have been strange in a large city like Gotham but weirdly works. You just think it’s creepy. Head down, you follow your mother’s back weaving through the crowds of students. You don’t want to see the stares, but you can already feel them boring into you. Sitting in the secretary’s office, you pick at invisible lint on your knitted tights. You know your mother’s having a conversation with the secretary but it all flies over your head in shushing murmurs. Your back aches from the overstuffed chair. The Mary Janes do pinch, makes you worried that you’ve already twisted your ankles from the way they throb.

“I’ve got to get to work now sweet pea, but I just now you’re going to have a great first day. I’ll pick you up at 4:00 and we can go get those donuts okay?”

Your mother’s crouched down in front of you, eyes searching your face for any kind of reaction. She looks worried and that’s what causes you to crack. You fling yourself out of the chair and into her arms, allow yourself one great heaving sob into her shoulder. She strokes your hair and hushes you, squeezes you tight like she could make you part of her.

“Oh honey. Everything’s scary right now but I promise it’s not going to stay that way. I believe in you and you’re going to get through this.”

You draw back from her, scrub at your face with your fists. Heaving breaths don’t help but they don’t make it worse. You go with the secretary, new schedule twisted tight in your hands. She lets you discard your coat and backpack in a locker, before walking you to your new homeroom. You only hope that you’ll remember the locker combination.

You hate the way your new homeroom teacher makes you stand at the front of the room. Mr. Mulligan won’t let you sit down until you introduce yourself to the class, a thing he could have done so easily himself. Pulling at your sleeves and trying not to make eye contact with anyone, you stutter out a few basic facts. Hate the way you can feel the other students catalogue you, the way your hair doesn’t look shiny and straight like its fresh out of a salon, your too small shoes, the unfashionably long length of your skirt and the lack of designer accessories. Your cheeks and eyes are burning by the time you can slide down into your assigned seat near the back of the class. There’s only one other person sitting in your row, a boy with dark curling hair and a shy grin. He leans over to your desk just Mr. Mulligan starts the lecture.

Whispers, “Hi! My name’s Jason. I already know your name, figured if we’re going to be seat mates its only fair you know mine.”

You smile tightly and turn back to the lesson. You’re desperate not to miss anything, already feeling like you’ve been left behind. At your old school, you were in the middle of The Great Gatsby, but Gotham Academy is doing Romeo and Juliet for their seventh grade English class. You don’t have the play book, have no idea what part of the text they’re talking about, and this is the first time you’ve actually heard Shakespeare read out loud. Writing as fast you can, you try to keep up but it doesn’t matter how good your notes are if you don’t understand what the teacher’s talking about.

Usually you love English class, how uncovering symbolism and hidden meanings make you feel like you’re uncovering secret messages sent by the authors years in the past. Now it’s all going over your head and you hate it here so much already. The one class that you might have been looking forward to and you’re overwhelmed by it. You press too hard with your pencil, tear through the sheet of paper in front of you.

A notebook slides across your desk. Messy but legible writing on the first few scenes of the Act are written on it. Looking in the direction it came from, you make eye contact with Jason. He grins toothily before turning back to the front, Mr. Mulligan having moved on to a different quotation. The gesture makes your chest tight.

The rest of the class goes by uneventfully if still a challenge. There’s a short break between classes in which you frantically copy down the notes and slide the notebook back to him before your next teacher arrives. The next class isn’t so bad, still difficult and you’ve never liked math as much as you probably should, but it’s less intimidating than English. Someone must have fiddled with the thermostat during the break because the room feels colder than before. You wish you were on your old school’s schedule with shorter classes and more breaks. Sitting still for so long at your desk is making your back ache and cramp up. Math is almost over, Miss Lewis writing out the assigned homework on the board, when a wave of something comes over you. It’s an effort of will not to curl up on your desk.

The bell rings for lunch break and you just about bolt to the first bathroom you can find. Something’s wrong with you, more than just nerves over the first day. You’re cold but you’re sweating, nausea burning at the back of your throat. The ache in your back and stomach are almost unbearable, makes you want to curl into the fetal position to ward off invisible blows. Rolling down your tights in a hurry, you sit down on the cold toilet as fast as you can. Your hand is wet, and for a moment you worry that you’d lost control of your bladder on the way to the bathroom. But the stain on your hand is dark, matches the blood slick crotch of your panties. You hang your head and can feel the tears you’ve been holding onto all morning drop onto the floor. Just another thing you can’t control in this shitty new town and its stupid new school. Your first period.

The bathroom is cold, hard tile under your feet and wintery sunlight weak through the windows near the ceiling. The blood on your fingers is cold and tacky now. There’s a boundary here, between childhood and being an adult that you aren’t ready to cross yet. I want my mom, you think, only on the edge of hysteria. But she’s at work, wouldn’t be able to come if you called.

So you do what needs to be done, stop your tears as best as you can and sniffle. Wipe your face clean with the back of your sleeve and do your best to dab at your underwear with the single ply toilet paper. Layer sheets of toilet paper between your tights and underwear, build a makeshift pad in your sort-of dry underwear out of toilet paper and hope that it will hold up. Luckily you’ve escaped staining the regulation uniform skirt, so no one should be able to tell what happened. You get transfixed by the swirls of blood washing down the sink drain, hands gone numb under the stream of water. Splash cold water on your face in the vain hope it’ll calm down your puffy eyes. As ready as you can be in this situation, you eye yourself in the mirror and tell yourself to get moving before the bell for third period rings.

The boy from the back row is waiting outside the classroom for you. He looks nervous until he sees you, lights up with that shy smile again.

“Hi! I uh noticed you weren’t at lunch today so I grabbed you an apple in case you didn’t grab anything to eat.”

He’s babbling on about the cafeteria food not being that bad if you’d just try it, even though finding a table the first time can be rough. All you can do is stare at the apple in his hands, transfixed. You’re only shaken out of your stupor by the sound of him calling your name.

“So… are you going to take it? The bell’s going to ring soon and the teachers really don’t like us eating during class.”

“Thank you,” you say, genuinely shocked and touched.

He goes a little bashful at that, looks away as you take the apple from him. The apple’s good, sweet and crisp under your teeth. You make quick work of it in the hallway, finishing it up just as the bell rings. Jason stands right in front of you the whole time, hides you from the penetrating eyes of your classmates.

“All done? We should probably find our seats now. Monty,” and here he adopts a snooty British accent, “Archibald the Third is a real stickler for being on time. He’ll mark you late if you’re not sitting in your seat, even if you’re in the classroom.”

His impression makes you snicker and forget, just for a moment, how miserable you are. Mr. Archibald the Third is just as ridiculous as Jason’s impression of him predicted, but you get through it by making eye contact with Jason over the most ridiculous moments. Mr. Archibald really does have you call him “the Third”. It’s probably got something to do with his Words, a flowing script running vertically down the side of his face reading, “The Third, dear God how many of you are there?”. History with Mr. Archibald manages to be fun despite his absurd demeanor and your own private hurt seeming less terrible for a few scattered moments.

The final class of the day drags on, the pain in your front and back growing. Your hand moves across the page but your mind isn’t really paying attention. There’s a commotion as people gather their things and stand, already streaming out the door. You blink, stupefied, then slowly gather your things.

“Same time, same place tomorrow then?”

“—Yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow Jason.”

Your mother’s waiting for you in front of the school, car idling puffs of smoke into the darkening afternoon. Your backpack lands in the back seat and you crush your face into her coat across the console. Her hands come to your back, patting and rubbing circles until your breath comes in long, even draws.

“Honey I’m so proud of you. Your first day done! Let’s go celebrate, hmm? How was it? Did you make any new friends?”

“Can we get the donuts to go? I— uh, um I— I might have started my period today?”

Your voice lifts on the end of the sentence, suddenly absurdly worried about her reaction. You needn’t have worried though.

“Oh sweet pea, on your first day too? We can go home, get you a bath and something for your cramps.”

“No, I just really want to go get donuts with you because today kind of sucked and I’ll still feel kinda shitty but at least then I get donuts while I feel bad.”

“No more swearing and we’ll get a whole box to go, okay?”

Lying in bed that night, wrapped around a hot water bottle with Haley on your feet, you think that your day wasn’t that bad. It could have been a lot worse, and Jason was surprisingly nice. You stare at the shiny patch of skin on your wrist and hope that one day it will all be worth it. You drift off to the thought of blue eyes.

For the rest of that week you join Jason at his corner in the cafeteria. Between Math and History you slowly start to get to know one another. He offers to let you borrow his notes for the upcoming test in English, gets a little sheepish when he mentions that he practically knows the content by heart anyway. Jason’s sweet and funny and by Friday you two are the best of friends.

Once your mother is confident that you can handle the commute to school on your own, she doesn’t mind if you’re home late as long as you send a text first. Something about socializing with more kids your age being good for you, not that you’re listening too distracted in the haze of victory. So the two of you hang out after school, the city your shared playground. Jason treats you to your first chili dog and laughs when you get some on your nose. In revenge, you dare him to cover his lunch in chili oil at lunch the next day. The way Mr. Archibald threatens you both with detention for being disruptive is so worth it.

It’s not until the middle of April that you get the courage to ask Jason why you. Why out of everyone in the school he chose to reach out to the new kid and make her his friend. It’s probably the most personal thing you’ve asked him yet.

“It’s ‘cause no one else would’ve. Most of the kids here, their families founded Gotham and they’re not keen on outsiders. Most of the scholarship kids, they start at the same time, form a group so the rich kids don’t pick on them so much.” He pauses here, has to look away before he goes on. “Most of the others don’t like me ‘cause I don’t really fit into either category, you know? Like my dad’s a big name in Gotham but he only just adopted me so I’m not really one the rich kids but he’s doing more than just paying my school fees. You looked just as lonely as I was,” here he turns to grin, “and I wasn’t going to give up an opportunity to make someone carry my lunch tray.”

“Hey, idiot, if I remember right it was you bringing me lunch the first time.” You shove at him indignantly, but he dodges too quickly for you.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I can’t remember, on account of me being an idiot.” He flicks you on the tip of the nose and goes running.

And then it’s on. You chase him around the park, laughing and swearing to get your revenge on him. The two of you collapse breathlessly onto a mostly dry patch of dirt under a skeletal tree. Staring up at the sky and trying to catch your breath, you feel Jason nudge at your should beside you.

“So what about you? What brought you to the happiest place on earth?”

“My dad got headhunted for a promotion. He’s researching something for Wayne Industries and all of us had to move here for it. So mom gets a new job and I get transferred to a new school.” You sit up suddenly, look down at Jason lying in the grass. “Promise not to tell anyone?” You wait for him to nod first before continuing. “I only got into Gotham Academy because of my dad. I heard him and my mom arguing about it; he made it part of his contract that I’d get to go to school there if he accepted the job.”

“So? I’m only at GA because of my dad too. You think a kid from Crime Alley gets to go to private school without a little nepotism?”

You slump back down on to the grass, stretch a hand out to the sky and look up at it.

“To nepotism I guess.”

A hand reaches up to the sky next to yours. Slowly, ever so slowly he reaches a pinky out and links it with yours.

“To two misfits only here because of nepotism.”

School lets out in June, the city air ridiculously hot and humid. You can’t say that you’ve made any good friends outside of Jason, but there’s some girls you say hello to in the halls. You mourn not being able to see Jason everyday, but the plans you have to meet up are enough to soothe the ache.

He takes you to an arcade first, the two of you spending hours trying to beat each other at Pac Man. Tired but happy you split a basket of fries at the attached cafeteria. You’re enjoying the greasy fried goodness of the snack but you notice Jason isn’t reaching for the basket as quickly as you are. Looking over at him, you notice him staring at a pair of brothers playing a game. The younger whoops, jumps up and down in excitement. The older one ruffles his brother’s hair and challenges him to a new round. You toss a fry in Jason’s direction, surprised when he actually manages to catch it.

“You good?”

“—Yeah. It’s just, I don’t know if I’ve mentioned it? But I kind of have an older brother and he was supposed to take me to the arcade last weekend but he got in a fight with Dad and just left.”

“That’s a real dick move, ditching you over his issues.” At that, Jason breaks out in hysterical laughter, almost choking on the fry in his mouth. There are tears in his eyes by the time he stops coughing but he looks slightly less like a kicked puppy.

“It really, really was. You don’t know how much it was.”

Happy that the mood has lifted, the two of you finish off the basket of fries. You challenge Jason to Dance Dance Revolution and he wipes the floor with you. He’s way more athletic than you’d expected from him. The two of you part ways happy, already planning your next hang out. It is enough.

You meet up almost every week that summer. Jason shows you the Gotham he knows, little hidden gems only locals know about. A movie theatre that only shows movies made before 1980, a diner with the best milkshakes you’ve ever tasted, the best places in the public library to read undisturbed. Teaches you about the safest places to evacuate when disaster hits, which parts of the city are most dangerous. The park and its chili dog stand quickly become a favourite for you, a place to just hang out without any responsibilities. It also becomes a kind of confessional of sorts, where you end up telling each other your worst fears and secret hopes.

You confess once, after riding out your first Rogue attack with your fingers buried in Jason’s T-shirt, that you’re worried you’ll never feel at home again. That you can never go back now to your old house and feel at home there now, but that Gotham still feels too alien to be called home yet. Your darkest fear, that you’ll end up alone one day, deserted by everyone that you know and love. Jason tells you about his fears that one day all of this, Bruce and Alfred, the manor, school, will disappear one day. That the big brother he looks up to will never start to like him. Every time the two of you bare your souls to each other, Jason will hook his pinky over yours and squeeze. It’s a friendship built on shared secrets, on fears assuaged, and worries made better.

Your last year of middle school is largely uneventful. You got to classes, have lunch with Jason, hang out after class with Jason, text Jason. You get into a routine and that brings you comfort. There’s a slight period of awkwardness right before the 8th grade formal. A weird tension envelopes you both, the nebulous question of if you’re going together hanging over you. You don’t like it, the way Jason seems almost hesitant in all your conversations these days. It sets your teeth to itching and you can’t stand it anymore.

Slamming down your textbook, you say “Okay that’s it. I can’t stand whatever this is. You and I are going to the formal as friends. We’ll get all dressed up and if it’s lame we can ditch and go get Batburgers.”

“Oh thank God. I didn’t want to say anything in case it made it awkward but then it was just getting more awkward and then I just didn’t know what to do.”

The party is lame, but the burgers make up for it. Your dress is nice though. Your mother helped you pick it out, the fitted bodice and loose swing of the skirt making you feel passably pretty. It’s been hard to feel pretty with the way your body’s changed over the year, hips widening and chest starting to grow in ways you can’t predict. Jason cleans up nice, though whoever slicked back his hair went overboard on the gel. You pose for a picture all dressed up together, faces pulled into silly expressions, your burgers held in front of you like trophies. You pin a copy of the photo up in your bedroom. It makes you smile every time you see it, something warm in your chest.

The first day of high school brings back those first day jitters. You’re not even transferring schools, just switching to a different building and still your palms are sweating. It’s not until you see Jason, sitting in the back row with an empty seat behind him that you can release the breath you didn’t realize you were holding. It’s different teachers and different subjects, but in some ways it’s like the day you met again. Scribbling notes until your hands cramp, Jason passing you notes in class, struggling to keep up with what the teachers are saying. At lunch, you and Jason even split an apple between you. It’s terrifying and familiar and all the more bearable because you aren’t going through it alone.

High school is different. Everyone’s more aware of each other in ways they weren’t in middle school. Girls wear brighter lip glosses and flaunt the shiny spaces where their marks will come in. Boys douse themselves in too much body spray and start eyeing up anything that moves. But through out it all, your friendship remains the same. Something about high school solidifies things, has you go from You and Jason to YouandJason. At school you’re a unit, almost impossible to think of you as separate beings. After school, you still spend time together, still explore the city, still message all the time. But you’ve still never been to each other’s houses. Never met each other’s families yet.

Jason offers, once, to have you over to the manor during the winter break, but you’re not keen on it. Crinkle up your nose and ask to think about it.

“It’s not that I don’t want to see you over the holiday, or meet your family Jason. It’s just that I kind of like the way things are? My family knows that you’re my best friend, they’ve seen pictures of us, but the way things are now, you’re still entirely mine. Our friendship’s just for us. Meeting your family kind of changes that.”

“I like us being us. But would it really be that different to come hang out for a few hours? You could come over when Dad’s out and it’d just be me and Alfred.”

Eventually you agree, spend an afternoon with Jason at the manor to cram for your next round of tests. Mr. Pennyworth is lovely, keeps bringing snacks up to the library as an excuse to check up on you. Bent over your books, you miss the significant looks Alfred is sending Jason over your head and the blush that lights up his face in response. Mr. Wayne is thankfully not home. You’re not sure you could have handled meeting Jason’s grandfather and father in the same visit.

Jason makes it over to your apartment a few times over the spring semester. Your father’s always working, but your mother likes him well enough. She makes him stay over for dinner, won’t let him leave without feeding him first. She calls him a nice boy and tells him to come back any time. Still, you two prefer going out to coffee shops or the library to hang out, uninterrupted by well-meaning adults.

It’s on one of those summer nights, the two of you some of the last people in the public library, that the subject of your Words comes up. The skin across your left wrist catches the warm light of the lamps in a way that’s distracting. You’re startled by the feeling of fingers tracing featherlight over still-shiny skin.

“You ever wonder it about it sometimes? What it’ll say or who’ll say it?” The tone is unreadable but Jason’s voice is above the whisper he usually uses in the library, but with so few people around you figure there’s no harm in mimicking his volume.

“I used to. I was obsessed with Words when I was little. Couldn’t go to sleep without hearing about them as a bed time story.”

“Used to?” And Jason’s fingers are still there, drawing maddening little patterns across the thin skin of your wrist.

“Well, I’ve got other things to think about now, things that are actually within my control.”

Jason presses down, gently, with the broad of his thumb on your pulse. You snatch back your wrist, cradle it to your chest, uncertain of how intimate that gesture felt.

“Fair’s fair. I showed you mine, now you’ve gotta show me yours.” Your tone is teasing, trying to capture the earlier lightness of the afternoon.

“Oh I do, do I?”

He reaches for the top button on his uniform button down, starts undoing two more. Horrified, you reach across the table and grab at his hands.

“What are you doing?! You can’t just go around stripping in public!” Your hissed whisper may not have been said at all for all the impact it makes. Jason shakes off your hands and goes back to undoing his shirt.

“Not all of us are blessed with easily accessible Words. Relax, I just have to get the shirt wide enough to show how far the Words will go.”

Across his collarbone is a thin strip of shiny skin, reaching from one side of his neck to the other like a necklace. Whatever it will say looks pretty lengthy for someone’s Words. Mesmerized, you reach out to trace it with your fingertips. Jason shifts back before you can make contact.

“Gotta buy me dinner first sweetheart. I’m a classy lady like that.”

You flush at the term of endearment, but cover it with indignation.

“Hey! What do you call the tacos I bought for us yesterday?”

He laughs it off and the tense moment is broken. You pack up your things, smiling at the ground. You like the way sweetheart sounds coming from Jason, not that you’d give him that to tease you with. Despite how much you tell each other, there’s one secret you haven’t told him yet. That privately you hope your Words will be his. It’s so easy to fall in love with Jason, or at least what passes for love at this age. The light in his eyes when he rants about the latest book he’s read, when he shares the biscuits Alfred packs for him, the way he listens to you so intently even if he doesn’t have all the answers. You can admit to yourself that you’re hopelessly in love with your best friend, but never out loud. Your friendship is one of the most important things in your life and you are terrified of destroying it.

You don’t see Jason much after that, that summer. Your texts and calls still get answered, but he’s frustratingly vague about meeting up. He says that his dad has him in a kind of summer school, wants him to learn from private tutors before school starts up in the Fall again. Asking about what it is that he’s supposed to learn (his marks are already incredibly good) makes him cagey about it. You don’t want to push, but it feels like he’s pulling away from you. Phone calls get shorter, sentences more clipped. Your offers to just drop by the manor to see him get turned down automatically. It’s the longest you’ve gone without seeing him since you’ve met. You’re terrified that he’s done with you. That for some unnameable reason he’s decided to end your years of friendship and there’s nothing you can do to stop it from happening. Gotham seems colder without Jason at your side, the dangers more obvious and your usual haunts less welcoming.

Finally, after nearly two months you manage to pin him down, get him to agree to meet the day after his birthday. Your heart is in your mouth as you wait for him on a bench in the park. There’s a trickle of sweat running down your back. It’s a hot day but the park is a lush green, an after effect from an Ivy attack the night before. You release your grip on your present for Jason, smooth the envelope and hope you didn’t crease it with your sweaty fingers. A voice is calling your name.

Jason’s been changed by the weeks apart. He’s a few inches taller now, filled out in the shoulders more. You have to crane your neck back to see his face. The anxiety in you is reflected in his face, the way he nervously runs his fingers through his hair, his darting eyes. Uncertain how to proceed, you thrust the envelope out between you.

“Happy Birthday.”

“I— thank you.”

There’s silence again, and the awkwardness between you is a tangible thing. It’s worse than it was in eighth grade only this time you don’t know how to bridge the gap. You look down at your shoes, the toes scuffed.

“I’m sorry for ignoring you.” It comes out of him in a rush. “I’ve been a really shitty friend lately. Just, all summer my dad’s been on me about studying with these private tutors except they’re all friends with Dick so nothing I do can ever be good enough in comparison and every day I’ve felt like crap but I didn’t want you to see me like this which only made me feel worse ‘cause then I basically had to avoid you all the time which is the exact opposite of what I wanted to do and all I wanted to do was have you tell me there’s nothing wrong with me and they can all go kick dirt but then I’d have to talk to you about it which I wasn’t ‘cause I was already embarrassed.” He has to pause here to catch his breath, words running together at the speed which he was going.

“You planning to breathe any time soon?”

He deflates, collapses onto the bench next to you, an arm tucked around his right side awkwardly holding the card so it doesn’t get crushed. You sigh, heavily.

“I thought you didn’t want to be friends anymore.” Your confession is barely above a whisper. You can’t even look at him as you say it.

“I didn’t— I wouldn’t. I need you to know that I never, ever don’t want to be your friend okay? I was an idiot. I’m sorry.”

“Promise not to cut me out again and that you won’t take out your own issues on our friendship, and maybe I’ll consider forgiving you.”

“Pinky promise.”

Jason places the card in his lap, goes to link your fingers together, then winces at the movement of his arm. Suddenly sirens are going off in your brain.

“What’s wrong with your side?”

“Nothing, must have just pulled a muscle or something.” He tries to laugh it off nervously, but you can tell when he’s lying. His eyes dart to the left over your head, knee bounces almost imperceptibly. His tongue darts out to wet his lips and you know he’s not telling you the truth.

“You can’t even go a full minute without cutting me out! Jason, I know something is wrong. Now tell me.”

He hesitates, and you’ve had it with the lies and the avoidance and the being kept in the dark. You fingers go to the hem of his shirt and you start tugging.

“Hey! Wh-what are you doing?”

He tries to squirm away, batting at your hands but you get his shirt up far enough to see the bruise on his ribs in the shape of a boot. It’s purple going a sickly yellow, mottled and stark against the dips of his ribs. You can feel all the blood drain from your face. Jason’s pushed up against the far side of the bench, pulling his shirt down with shaking hands.

“Jason. Jason if someone is hurting you, you need to tell someone. If it's your dad or one of the tutors, we can find someone to tell together.”

“No one— no one’s hurting me, all right? I just didn’t get out of the way fast enough during a Rogue attack. I didn’t want to worry you, that’s all. No one’s abusing me, okay?”

“But you’d tell me if they were?”

“I tell you everything important.”

It’s not enough, not nearly for you. From the look in his eyes Jason knows this too, but its all he’s willing to give. There’s a crossroads in your relationship here, a road where you push and push until you get the full story but shatter the tattered strands of your friendship or you accept that you’ll never have all of Jason but maybe your friendship will survive. So you do what needs to be done.

“Okay. If you say that’s what happened then I trust you.”

It’s a low blow, to twist your trust in him like a knife, but it’s your only way to express your frustration with him. You gesture to the envelope, fishing around to change the subject.

“So you going to open that or what?”

And just like that, there’s a new normal. You see Jason everyday in class but he begs off your after school hangouts as often as you two actually spend time together. Conversation is stilted, hidden undercurrents to them of subjects neither one of you wants to address. You’re wary, suspicious of every bump and bruise Jason shows up with. The ease to your friendship has gone, disappeared to the realm of the past.

At the end of October, Jason becomes obsessed with the news. Keeps checking headlines and obituaries, fearful like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. The death of Felipe Garzonas makes the news and the tension in Jason ratchets up. He’s irritable, stops paying attention in classes, blows up when you try to feel out what’s wrong. He’s apologetic every time, promises it won’t happen again until you eventually stop trying to ask questions. Hope that your presence is enough to steady him through whatever it is that is tormenting him.

He asks you once, if you’d believe in his word, no matter what the evidence of something told you otherwise. You tell him you would, always, but that answer doesn’t seem to make a difference.

Winter break comes and goes, without an invitation to visit this time. If anything, Jason comes back more irritable and closed lipped. Mutters something about a fight over Christmas dinner, his brother and Bruce clashing over something. You’re worried about him all the time now. He’s more reckless with himself, won’t look before crossing the road, reacts aggressively to every perceived challenge, throws things when he gets frustrated. He’s changing into someone you don’t recognize in front of your eyes.

April comes and there’s a new light in his eyes. It’s manic and hopeful and the first emotion you’ve seen in him other than fear in months. He won’t tell you what it is, just that there’s something new he’s found out, something about his mother. This time you hope, fingers crossed and a wish on every star that whatever has brought him this hope won’t hurt him.

On Monday, Jason doesn’t come to school. He doesn’t answer your messages or pick up any of your calls. Even when he’s been out sick he at least lets you know. On Tuesday you get called into the office in the middle of first period. You haven’t been back to the secretary’s office since the day you enrolled. The seats are still as overstuffed as you remember. The secretary is the same, a few more grey streaks in her perfectly set hair. Her eyes are red, and she’s got one of those old fashioned handkerchiefs in her hands.

“I’ve got some bad news honey, and I— I think it would be best if you sit down for it.”

“Oh— will this take long? Only I got pulled out of class and we’re reviewing for the exam next week.”

“Oh honey.” She has to pause to dab at her eyes before continuing. “You’re going to be excused from all exams next week, okay? I need you to know that the school will do whatever we can to support you through this.”

Now, now you are scared. “Support me through what? It’s not my mom is it?”

“Honey it’s Jason, Jason Todd. I’m so sorry but he passed away yesterday. I’ve contacted your parents and your mother is on the way to come pick you up.”

Her words don’t make any sense.

“But he can’t be. I saw him on Saturday. There’s been a mistake. He’s not dead.” Your legs don’t work anymore and you hit the couch, hard, sliding off the overstuffed pillows to kneel on the floor. You don’t feel any of it. There’s copper in your mouth, you must have bitten your tongue on the way down but you can’t feel it. There’s movement in your peripheries, and your mother crouches down into your field of vision.

“Mom, mom they made a mistake. She’s— she’s saying that Jason’s dead, but he can’t be. Mom he’s not dead.”

“Sweet pea, I’m so, so sorry. It’s been on the news all morning.”

It rips through you then, grief. Sobs shake your whole body, your mother doing her best to hold you together. There’s a roaring in your ears like you’re caught in a vacuum. You can’t see through the tears. Your body is trembling violently and you can’t care enough to try and stop it. Nothing matters anymore. Jason’s dead.

To get to the car, your mother has to half carry you. There’s no point in moving. You’re not sure how you end up in your bed at home but you do. You don’t sleep but you aren’t really awake either. The tears don’t stop coming. You’re nothing but an open wound, not even really a whole person. The world’s burned down to ash and you’re just floating through it. You know your parents come in to talk to you, can hear the murmur of their voices but you don’t care. There’s food put in front of you but it holds no interest to you. You might have had sips of water, maybe some broth but you don’t remember and you don’t care. The only thing you really register is Haley, nestling up to you and making biscuits with his paws in your blankets.

Jason’s funeral is on Friday and you can’t get out of bed to go. Jason’s not in that coffin, not really. He won’t be there and so you won’t be. Jason’s never coming home. Jason’s dead, Jason’s dead, Jason’s dead plays on a loop. You never got to tell him. He died without knowing you loved him. His death has ripped you open like nothing ever has before, regret a constant salt in the wound. He never told you that he was thinking of leaving, of going anywhere. It feels wrong at this point, to interrupt his family in their grief, another stranger claiming to have known their son. After all, how well did you really know him if you didn’t even know he was going to leave?

Grief swallows you whole, but over time you learn to live with it. Days blur together. The tears dry up but the not caring doesn’t. Inside of your head is a wall, separating you from the reality of a world without Jason. You’re wrapped in wool and safe behind glass, unable to care about anything. It’s easier that way.

The school passes you for the year, citing personal tragedy, and you don’t care. Summer comes and the only difference is that your mother comes in and throws your windows open every morning. It’s Jason’s birthday soon, too soon. He’ll never be sixteen but you will be. He’ll never have his Words come in. He’ll never get the chance to do all the things he talked about, make Gotham a better place, travel the world. But you can.

It makes no sense to live for a dead boy but it’s all you’ve got. So you do what you have to do. It gets you to leave your bed for the first time in months. To start eating again, even if there’s no taste to the food in your mouth. To shower and take care of yourself for the first time in ages. Your room is clean for the first time in months and the first thing you do is take down your photograph from the 8th grade formal and put it away in a desk drawer.

By September, you have gathered yourself enough to return to school despite the worried looks of your family. It is hard, the hardest thing you have ever done but you do it for the boy that will never graduate high school. You sit by yourself at your desk, you eat lunch by yourself, you go straight home after class without any detours. The school play this year is Romeo and Juliet. You take home the sign up flyer and consider it, hard. In the end you decide to leave it. Jason may have always wanted to try out for the play but you won’t survive torturing yourself with this. On opening night you tell your parents you’re going to see it and get drunk on the gymnasium roof.

You make it through your last two years of high school a ghost. Administration tries to pressure you into meeting with a therapist but you refuse. You don’t want to experience your grief at all. Numbness is the only way you are going to survive this, your new reality. You do take them up on their suggestion of volunteering. Working with the Martha Wayne Foundation for Underprivileged Children gives you a sense of purpose. Of helping other Crime Alley kids without the benefit of nepotism to get them into places like Gotham Academy. It stokes the first emotion in you other than numbness, and that’s rage for all the ways in which these kids have been failed.

You accept a full scholarship to Gotham University. Your parents couldn’t be more proud of your achievement but you can barely muster the energy to smile. Keep up the volunteer work while rushing through your degree in two years instead of four. With nothing else to drive you, you’ve got nothing but time for school. The Martha Wayne Foundation offers you a position in fundraising, and you accept. It’s not what you envisioned for yourself, but it’s a path forward with purpose.

You move out, into your own apartment in an area that’s probably too dangerous for a girl of your age but you can’t stand to be at home anymore. The job consumes your life and you are grateful for it. It’s important work, even if some of the policy meetings on accepting donations from the Red Hood make you want to fall asleep. You make use of your Gotham Prep connections, rubbing elbows with the rich for just as long as it takes to pry open their wallets. It’s ridiculous but the higher ups trot you out to entertain at fundraising events, a pretty young face to pull in more donors. Occasionally you see Bruce, or Dick, or the newest ward Tim at functions, always across the room before you quickly excuse yourself. The numbness carries you through your life but there are limits to it and you’re not eager to test them.

Even five years later, you can’t go back to the park. You’ve never had another chili dog, though you’ll hire the vendor to cater community events. You’ve worked your way back into the public library, but still avoid the alcove on the second floor in the encyclopedia section. There’s a handful of arcade tokens in a plastic bag in your apartment still unused. Batburger is still your favourite, but you still can’t set foot in the location nearest to the Academy.

You keep yourself so busy that when your Words come in, “I’m sorry sweetheart, I didn’t know…”, you barely give it a thought, just pulling the cuff of your shirt lower to cover your wrist. Carry on with the rest of your morning routine and head into the office. From that point on, your sleeves are always long and your gala outfits gain elbow length opera gloves. You never bother trying to read the rest of it. It doesn’t matter anymore.

It’s a cold February morning. The bus broke down two stops from the office and now you have to walk the rest of the way in the snow. Standing at a crosswalk waiting for the light to change, you pass the time by scanning the headlines on the nearest newsstand. “Lost Wayne son found alive” screams out at you, tearing into your heart bloody. You lose grip of your work bag, but manage not to lose your mind in the street. Picking your bag up out of the slush, you run into the nearest bodega bathroom and lock the door with trembling hands. Shove a fist into your mouth and scream as the tears pour down your face. You’re shaking, worse than you were all those years ago. Snot blocks your nose and you have to stop screaming to breathe. So you do what needs to be done. Fumbling with your coat pocket, you pull out your phone and call the office, call out sick. It’s the only time you’ve done it in all the time your supervisor has known you but the tremor in your voice and frequent sniffles must alarm her enough.

In a fog, you somehow make it from the bodega bathroom to the front gate of Wayne manor. It doesn’t look like it’s changed at all since your last visit over five years ago, except for the heaving mass of press. You circle round the property and enter through the bushes, the way Jason showed you years ago on a tour of the property. You slip on the snow, fall to your knees but get back up. This is the only thing that matters now. The back door has an elaborate knocker that takes both of your hands to lift. It takes what feels like ages for someone to answer the door. It’s poor Mr. Pennyworth, looking more ruffled than you’ve ever seen him. You’re indescribably rude to the poor man, pushing right past him and into the building. Only one thing matters now and your vision has narrowed out anything outside of achieving your goal.

There’s voices coming from somewhere inside, up the stairs and in the direction of the library. A hand, probably Mr. Pennyworth’s, tries to grab at your wrist but you’re too quick for that. You’re running now, clutching at the bannister as though it will pull you up the stairs faster. A shout from behind and the tone of the voices change, a door slamming in the distance. Finally, finally you reach the library but a body tries to come between you, stopping you in your tracks. Years of grief, anger, and battered hope come roaring through you at the thought of being denied seeing Jason, alive after all this time.

Your voice when it leaves you is dangerously low. “Dick, I presume? You don’t know me, and I’ve heard very little about you from Jason and what I did hear I didn’t like. I’m going to make this simple.” The door behind him cracks open, but you soldier on anyway. “Jason Todd was my best friend and first love.” The body stiffens, but that doesn’t matter in this moment. “You are going to step aside and-” anything else doesn’t matter because a door is thrown open and there is Jason.

Eyes wild, a good deal older and more scarred than before, but he’s alive. And then nothing else matters but the feel of his arms warm around you, the imprint of his jacket on your face, the smell of him largely unchanged. He’s alive and he’s real and you can touch him. You draw back to look at him, drink in the sharpened angle of his jaw, the blue-green of his eyes, the white streak in his hair. He’s grown taller and broader than he had over that wretched summer so many years ago. What catches your eye is the writing at the hollow of his throat, a stark black spreading across his collarbones exposed by the v of his t-shirt. Jason Todd was my best friend and first love, it reads.

“I’m so sorry sweetheart, I didn’t know you felt the same.” He says and your wrist starts to burn.

#jason todd x you #jason todd x reader #jason todd x fem!reader #red hood x you #red hood x reader #jason todd fic #jason todd imagine #jason todd #soulmate au #tw grief #sunnie writes 🌻

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froggibus · 8 months

Text

Finders, Keepers - slasher!Jason Todd

Pairing: slasher! Jason Todd x f! Reader (reader uses f pronouns & has a pussy)

Genre: smut/NSFW

Word Count: 2k

Summary: as you feel his knife pressing into your skin, you look up at him through teary eyes. “I’ll do anything to live,” you say, but Jason intends to make you deliver on that promise.

CW: (Tagging this as possible noncon because you get held at knifepoint and fuck him so he doesn’t kill you, but eventually get into it) dubcon, maybe noncon? , knifeplay, reader gets held by knifepoint, serial killer! jason todd, stalking/chasing, oral (m! receiving), face fucking, fingering, finger sucking, cervix fucking, size difference, unprotected sex, creampie, kinda yandere themes?

day 2!! we are still going strong lol. absolutely love the idea of Jason Todd being a slasher, I kinda went for a cross between Michael Myers, Ghostface and Jason Voorhees here. anyway, hope you guys enjoy :)

Kinktober Masterlist

You dive and roll behind the marble countertop, covering your mouth to hide your teetering breath. Your ribcage aches with every beat of your heart, the pounding so loud you swear you can hear it echoing. You only pray he doesn’t notice.

Thick bootsteps fill the room, a menacing rhythm of rubber on hardwood. Each step is slow and sturdy as he approaches your hiding spot. He’s playing games with you, the thrill of the hunt almost as good as the kill itself. You only hope that you won’t be his latest victim.

You see the tip of his boot round the corner and suddenly your time has run out. You spring to your feet, catching a glimpse of your terrified features in the shiny red metal of his helmet before sprinting as fast as you can to the back door. You throw the glass door open so hard you swear it cracks, but you don’t have time to worry about property damage. Not tonight.

As soon as your slippers meet the grass, you’re tearing through the lawn and towards the woods. You can hear his thick footsteps behind you, but it doesn’t sound like he’s running. He never runs. The whole time he’s chased you has felt like one big taunt, like he’s getting off on your fear.

You almost sigh in relief when you make it past the property line and into the thick woods. You duck behind a thick oak tree, glancing over your shoulder to see if he’s still there. Your tensed muscles relax when you don’t see him anywhere. You must have lost him.

You wait behind the tree for what feels like hours before you hesitantly crawl out, attempting to find your way out of the forest and back to society. Back to help.

But it’s dark and the moon is hidden behind clouds, and you must have dropped your phone somewhere in the chase. All of the trees look the same and you can’t seem to remember where you came from.

Your shoulders slump when you look to the dark path ahead. There’s no way out, at least not until daylight when you’ll be able to see better. But that still leaves six hours of you hiding in the woods from a psycho killer hellbent on sinking his blade into you.

You cast your eyes down to your bare legs and slippers. You’d been sleeping before this, wearing only your pyjama shorts and a giant t-shirt. Even if you can wait him out until daylight, you’ll freeze to death first.

You turn around and walk straight into a tree. No, not a tree. Horror dons on you as you realize you’ve walked into a six foot wall of muscle and leather. You have no time to react before his arm grabs your waist and holds you against his muscled chest, his blade resting on your throat like a promise.

“P-please!” You cry out, trying to stay perfectly still. The sharp metal is just barely grazing your throat for now, but you know any sudden movement could change that.

He doesn’t answer, but you can hear his breathing through that damned mask. It’s fast and strained, and his chest rises and falls in time with it. You squeeze your eyes shut and try to picture good memories, try to picture that you’re anywhere but here.

He keeps his strong grip on you, keeps his knife at the base of your neck. He can practically smell your fear, and it’s fucking intoxicating. Your heart is racing, all of your muscles tremble in his arms. He’s been following you for a while now but he never thought you would put up this much of a fight.

God, it’s going to feel so good to take your life.

He starts to press the blade into your neck and you cry out. Not quite a scream, or at least not a scream of terror. It’s more of a strangled whine, but it has him stopping in his tracks.

“Please,” you whine again. “Please don’t, please! I’ll do anything, please.”

He listens to you whimper, the sounds like music to his ears. He can’t count the amount of times you’ve said please, but he keeps his knife off your throat for the time being. He wants to see just how long you’ll beg him not to take your life.

“I mean it! I’ll do anything,” you can barely breathe, every inhale short and strangled. “Say the word! But please, please don’t kill me.”

You can’t tell if he’s listening to you or if what you’re saying even makes sense at this point. All you can focus on is the knife in his hand and the arm around your waist. Your words start to sound strange even to you, the word please losing all of its meaning.

Jason loves the way you squirm in his arms and plead for your life, and fuck, you look so cute doing it. He wants to sink his knife into you, wants to feel your skin break apart at his touch, but he’s starting to think he can split you open a different way.

He cuts off your pleads by shoving you to your knees on the ground. He twists his knife so that it rests on the back of your neck, the tip of the blade threatening to plunge into you if you don’t do a good job.

You stay perfectly still, looking up at him with teary and confused eyes. Is this it? Is he going to kill you now? You can’t tell. You watch his every move, every tensing of his muscles, just waiting for him to kill you.

The hand that isn’t holding the knife reaches up to his belt buckle and suddenly you hear the clatter of the metal on the forest floor. You tilt your head in confusion, watching as his thick fingers tug open his zipper and release his cock.

Despite the cold night air, you feel impossibly warm at the sight of his hard length. Does he…is he expecting you to suck it? After all, you did say you would do anything to survive.

When you don’t make a move, he prods the knife into your skin just enough to draw blood. That’s all it takes for you to lean forward and open your mouth, letting his tip glide across your tongue. The taste of salty precum floods your senses.

He puts his other hand on the top of your head, guiding you along his shaft. His cock is so big it stretches your jaw, and you’re sure you’ll be aching tomorrow. Better sore than dead, though. You keep your eyes closed and focus on the task at hand. It’s easy to forget that you’re on your knees in a forest being held at knife point when he has his cock in your mouth.

You bob up and down, trying to take as much of him into your mouth as possible. He fills you up enough that you have to breathe through your nose and every thought you have is fucked away.

You’re so caught up on his cock that you don’t even realize you’ve started to bounce up and down, grinding your crotch into your leg. You only notice when you grow so wet that you’ve started to smear your own juices onto your skin. You steady your hips, hoping he didn’t notice how your body is reacting to him.

Of course he noticed, though. He can’t take his eyes off you from behind the mask. It’s intoxicating watching your cute little face strain around his big cock while you desperately hump your own leg. You’ve been so good using that pretty mouth, he thinks you deserve a treat.

You don’t protest when he grabs you by your hair and lifts you up, still keeping that blade pressed against the back of your neck. He releases you and lets you stumble forward onto a tree, bracing yourself against your hands.

You try to keep perfectly still, but gasp when you feel the cool metal of the blade between your legs. He puts one hand on your hip to steady you, and uses the other to cut open the crotch of your pyjama shorts.

A thick, gloved finger slides into the opening of the fabric and starts to stroke your wet clit. You shiver from his touch and tighten your grip on the tree. He slides a finger into your soaking hole. You whine and move your hips back, trying to get him deeper.

He slides another finger inside of you, pumping only a few times before pulling both out. He reaches his hand around and shoves his slick coated fingers into your mouth. You gratefully accept them, sucking your own juices off of the leather.

His cock brushes your entrance and you brace yourself, closing your eyes in anticipation. He slides in slowly, splitting you open on his thick shaft. A moan forces its way past his fingers in your mouth when he bottoms out. He’s so big you can feel him everywhere, his cock pressing into your cervix.

He pulls out and slams back in, his movements making your whole body shift. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth and sets his hand on your hip, using it as momentum to drive you up and down his length. The hand holding the knife rests on your ass, the handle just barely touching you.

His thrusts are brutal. He pushes all the way in every time, before pulling out and slamming back in again. Your stomach aches from how good he’s fucking you, your legs starting to shake from how you’re standing. You were trying to keep the moans in at first, but he’s so big and so deep that you can’t help it.

You can hear the squelching noise from your own pussy, feel your hot juices try to leak out whenever he pulls away only to be fucked into you again. You’re getting so close, so needy and desperate. You rock your hips back and forth the best you can, trying to meet his thrusts and get him even deeper.

“I-I’m so close!” You cry out.

Jason hears your cries and lewd moans, feels the way you’re clenching around his cock. It’s almost unthinkable that you were begging for your life previously, and now you’re about to cum around his cock. He knew he made a good choice with you.

“Please,” you whine again. “Please, I need to cum, please! I’ll do anything, please.”

Your begging is like music to his ears, and suddenly he’s lifting up your leg and holding you up by your waist. This new angle lets him go deeper, the tip of his cock grinding against your cervix every time. It only takes a few more thrusts before you’re gushing around him, going limp in his arms.

Jason holds you up and continues fucking into you. You feel so good and tight around his cock, and he’s so close. He practically uses your body like a fleshlight, tossing you around anyway that makes him feel good. It’s not long before he’s cumming inside of you.

He pulls out, watching as his hot cum runs out of your ruined pussy and down your sticky thighs. God, you’re a mess.

As you come down from your high, you suddenly remember the situation you're in. You press yourself against the tree, pulling your knees to your chest. He watches you, staring at you as you cower. A couple tears roll down your cheeks, though you’re not sure if they’re from fear or from pleasure.

Jason leans forwards and slowly wipes them away. Your hair is an absolute mess, your skin all sweaty and sticky, but you look so fucking cute like this. He tilts his head at you and smiles behind the mask.

Yeah, he thinks he’ll keep you.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood #jason todd smut #red hood smut #slashers #slasher au #jason Todd slasher #kinktober 2023 #kinktober

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