Sysopsis: Jason hates how you are loosing yourself
Ship: Jason Peter Todd x Plus-size reader
Warnings: There is not smut, just fluff.
Author's Note: I'm not plus-size. I just read a complaint about the sexualization of plus-size characters in fanfiction, and it made so much sense, followed by a reblog from this person talking about how it makes everything worse, so I thought I'd do this. I’m sorry if I do something wrong, contact me and I will change or delete it.
And I have to say it because it is my own thought. I don’t have anything against plus-size people. If you have an eating disorder, you’re a perfect person and you don’t have to care about what no one says, you have to care about being healthy. I support all body types, but when it starts to affect your health, I can’t defend that, it doesn't matter if it's an extremely fat person or an extremely thin person.
Important: English is not my first language, if you see a mistake, tell me, please.
Number of words: 999
Here you can say the reblog I was talking
The mirror is an enemy every day. Probably your worst enemy. It stares at you and destroys you without even trying. Because what you see in the mirror can't escape. It devours you. It takes your breath away. It pushes you away from people. It separates you. It abandons you. What you see corrodes every thought capable of forming in your mind and, in the end, simply destroys it.
It's not just when you see yourself normally. It's also when you try on clothes. How they don't fit. How a store might not have your size. How it seems like they're judging you when you put something on. How you realize it's not just the mirror, it's other people too. The sidelong glances. The whispers. The low criticisms. The loud criticisms.
It gets to the point where it's not just you. It seems like the whole world is deciding what's wrong with you. That you're flawed. That every part of your body is fatal. Maybe you should just wear bigger clothes, clothes that hide everything, that don't make you feel bad. That don't make everyone stare.
The mirror destroys you. And Jason wishes he were the mirror.
Maybe if he were the mirror, you wouldn't have started hiding, eating less, getting lost in criticism and horrible words. Maybe if he were the mirror, you'd see that Jason doesn't see pounds, clothing sizes, or how they fit your body. He sees patterns, colors, and the silly curls you wear. Maybe if you could notice the way Jason looks at you, in love with every tiny millimeter of your body, you'd stop caring what other people say or what the mirror shows. Because Jason knows the mirror is misleading. The mirror shows what you want to see, what the world wants to see, but not what he sees. The mirror doesn't show your smile, your eyes, your soft hands, the way you dance, your boisterous laugh, the way your favorite pants make him dream, or how that blouse you bought last time enhances every perfect part of you.
God, you're probably the only one who doesn't see how lost he is in you. You can't walk past him when he's with one of his brothers because Jason won't be able to follow the conversation; his eyes will follow you like you're a pirate's treasure. Dick is the one who laughs at him the most because of how in love he is. But Jason doesn't know how to tell you. What good will his words do you if you're condemning yourself? He wants you to love yourself again, not to love yourself because he does. He wants you to look in the mirror, smile at yourself, tell yourself how beautiful you are, and when Jason points it out, reply with, "I know, Jay, I know." That's what he wants. But he doesn't know how to make you do it.
That day, another piece of his heart broke. The day you both were walking through the mall on their way to the bookstore for the new edition of Pride and Prejudice. You two walked right past your favorite store, and there it was, the first display: that blouse, the kind of blouse that fit you perfectly. The kind that highlighted your favorite parts. The kind you stopped wearing a long time ago. You stared at it as if it were a distant dream. Something impossible. And then Jason knew this was his moment. This was the moment for you to reclaim yourself.
—Why don't you try it on? You love those.
You look at him, about to laugh, because Jason is always so sweet and romantic. Without seeing things as they truly are.
—No, Jay, maybe another day.
Jason feels like he's going to faint. Why would you do that to yourself? Why would you deny yourself such a treat? Jason squeezes your hand, feeling the greatest helplessness he's ever felt. A rage toward everything. Why have you lost yourself like this?
—You liked how they looked— he says, his voice a little broken—You have a closet full of them.
You look at him again. Then you look at Jason, who's looking at you with his beautiful, bright blue eyes, like he's gazing at a star. Maybe. Just maybe.
—We have nothing to lose— he says as a last resort.
And you give in, because Jason always manages to get you to give in, because you can't deny him anything. So when you're in the dressing room, trying it on, all the thoughts come flooding in. Like those illusions are being ripped away. You're about to let go when you hear him again. His voice, shyly asking if he can see you. And you want to tell him no, that you don't want him to see you. So you lean your head slightly through the curtain to look at him, and everything you expected to find is false. Because Jason isn't looking at the curtain with disappointment or pity or sadness, he's looking at it with hope, with a joy you haven't seen in him for months. You can't believe it's because of the way you look in that blouse, you want to deny it, but that's the only thing that's happened to make him so happy.
So you carefully draw back the curtain and reveal yourself. He smiles in a way so euphoric it can't be polite. He loves how you look.
—God... you look like an angel.
You laugh a little because Jason doesn't know how to stop being so sweet. He doesn't know how to stop making you fall more in love with him every second. He doesn't know how not to make you feel like the most precious thing in the world. Bear of the world. Perhaps you should listen to him. Perhaps you should notice those looks on his face.
—You know what? I think I'll take it.
And Jason has never been happier in his entire life.
Post Author’s Note: I loved writing this, maybe I will write more about plus-size reader.
@iknowyouknowimnottellingthetruth
