Jason Todd Whore

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[batarella]

I Don't Hate You - Remastered - Chapter 6 (Jason Todd x Reader Series)

You're the meanest girl in school. Everyone is terrified of you. But when you're sentenced to ten weeks of detention at the school's library with another brooding troublemaker, Jason Todd, you find out there is, in fact, at least one guy on earth who isn't afraid of you.

And you hate that.

IDHY REMASTERED EDITION: GENERAL REVISIONS, NEW DIALOGUE, BONUS CONTENT, AND EXTENDED SCENES.

A/N: too many months too late. holiday season had me way too busy but I didn't want to leave this behind! Hope I can post more frequently. This one has A LOT of changes. I thought the original version didn't have too many things happening at all. A LOT of Victorious scenes were added in. HOPE YOU LIKE IT

WORDS: 8,000

WARNINGS: MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE, SMOKING, INJURY

MASTERLIST

----

“Hi.”

A blonde guy appeared in front of you, hands gripping the empty seat from across the table. You barely tilted your head up to look at him.

“My name’s Kurt.”

“So?” You raised both eyebrows, then you saw him gulp.

“I’m uh… I’m sorry about your eye. I heard about what happened.”

Like the whole school did that morning, his eyes darted over the bruise under your left eye. If picking a fight with a football player had word explode in three days, it took one night for everyone to know about your catfight with a cheerleader and the black eye she sent you home with.

But the reason it was so talked about was that it wasn’t the other way around. The Vice Principal, especially, was skeptical that you lost a fight.

“I, uhm, was wondering if I could sit with you?”

“No.”

“Oh. Is someone already sitting here?”

“No.”

You saw his throat jump like a golf ball poked out of his neck.

“I thought you might need some company since you’re all busy with-“

He was good-looking, and he looked confident until you started talking. Kurt looked down at your outfit and smiled the best he could. “I really like your jacket-“

“I hate this jacket.”

He took another step back. “But-“

“It’s hot, and it itches my back.”

He was starting to sweat, fumbling after his trembling mouth. “I-uh, think you look nice today.”

“So yesterday I looked gross?”

He stepped back.

“Like I usually look disgusting and today I got lucky?!”

Every word out of him was mush. Eventually, he stood so far back that he hit the shelf. Then fire shot out of your eyes when he probably realized you’d have to be the one to put them all back again.

Kurt sprinted for the door.

If losing a catfight was a green light for people to start approaching you, you’d make sure you never walk out of one without the other person almost unconscious.

He burst out of the library, almost slamming into Jason as he walked in holding a cup of coffee. Jason watched him run, unshaken with his other hand in his pocket.

“What was that about?”

He sat on the chair across from you.

“Nothing,” you sighed, eyes falling back on your work. “My eye hurts.”

“Oh yeah?” Jason snickered. “Which one?”

“Cute,” you scoffed, seeing him place his cup of coffee on the table. “I want coffee. No one told me the machine was back on.”

“It is. Just this morning,” he coughed through his throat. “Did you put ice on your eye?”

You nodded. “Last night. And this morning. Like you told me to.”

“Good.” He leaned in and reached out his hand. “Let me see.”

“I’m fine.”

You wanted him to grab your cheek and stand so close to you that his breath would be hot against your skin, but you didn’t let him. You grabbed his hand and settled with the feel of it on yours, gentle and damp with sweat from his palms.

He smiled at you, pinching your palm before slowly pulling away and settling back in his seat.

 Then he took the drenched notebook from in front of you on the table.

“Peterson wants us to rewrite everything just ‘cuz she placed it right under a leak overnight.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“We have two hours.”

“And what happened here?” Jason looked back at the ruined shelf.

“You should probably go fix that.” You took the notebook back and started writing.

“Why me?”

“’Cuz I don’t wanna do it.”

“Neither do I.”

“Then I guess Ms. P will have to do it herself.”

“She’d never do that.”

“You better get started.”

“I hate you.”

“I hate you, too.”

His grin made you want to jump out the window. One of these days you might actually will.

“I’m taking a sip!” you cried, placing the coffee cup to your lips as he walked over to the shelf. The corner of his lips curved up before picking up the books from the floor.

He reached up the top shelf, holding six books at once with one strong arm. Then a girl clutching a book to her chest walked up to him.

Her hair was in a braid, her light eyes in a permanent smile, and her arms snug in a soft pink cardigan. Her skirt was down to her knees, but not in a way that made her look like a child at church. She looked like Mandy Moore from A Walk To Remember.

“Hi…” she said. And Jason smiled back. “Hi.”

Your eyes darted up from your notebook with your eyebrow almost to your hairline.

She told Jason her name. Jason told her his. She brushed her braid to the back of their ear and let her hair fall to her cheeks.

Then she asked about an author you had no idea about. Jason knew exactly where that was, pointing to the literary fictionaisle five rows down. But the girl didn’t walk away. She continued to talk.

“Have you read any of his books?” he said.

“Some of them. Yeah.”

She stepped forward to get closer to him. The pencil in your hand was burning in your palm like a stick brought to a fire.

“You work here?”

“Yeah. On detention.”

“I wouldn’t mind working in a library.” The girl ran a hand down the shelf. “I could read all day.”

Jason snorted. “I wish I could read all day. Ms. Peterson has us doing military work for two hours.”

She laughed like it was the funniest fucking joke in the world. It wasn’t. He placed more books on the shelf.

“You don’t seem to mind it,” she said.

“I don’t. I like it here.”

You definitely felt the pencil light a fire in your hand. It didn’t burn you enough to tear your eyes and ears away from them.

“Is shelving all you do all day?”

“Nope. I get to write and rewrite records in notebooks. Kills my hand by the end of it.”

Her eyes lit up. “Do you work here alone? Because, if you need the extra help, I love libraries and I’d love to work in one—"

The pencil in your hand finally broke in half from your thumb.

“HEY.”

You could’ve silenced a fly.

Both she and Jason shot their heads in your direction.

“We’re not hiring. And he has work to do.” That’s when you turned to Jason. “JASON, ARE YOU GONNA HELP ME WITH THESE RECORDS OR WHAT?”

Jason had to bite his lips not to laugh at any of your faces. “Yeah, sorry. We’re fully staffed. I’ll see you around.”

The girl nodded gently at Jason as he walked away, then she caught your eye again, shaking, before disappearing into the shelves.

You pretended not to look at him when Jason took back his seat, his arms crossed over his chest, and the grin on his face spreading to half his head. You didn’t look up when you handed him his own set of wet notebooks and dry ones to rewrite them on. “On with it.”

Only the devil had half the snark in his grin. And if it didn’t rile up the bugs in your stomach to flutter more viciously, you would’ve punched it off his jaw.

“You okay there?”

You turned a page and continued writing. “Fine.”

“Thought you were all grumpy because of your eye.”

You shrugged. “I am.”

Jason’s eyes were on the half-broken pencil in your hand.

“You seem to have a lot in common,” you said.

“Just ‘cuz she reads books doesn’t mean we have a lot in common.”

“She liked you.”

Subtlety was not something you were fond of when you wanted a response as blunt as you were. Maybe later that night, you’d feel the embarrassment catch up. Right then, it was far from doing so.

But Jason just laughed, and not in a way that embarrassed you at all.

“She’s not my type.”

Something sharp lodged in your neck. You couldn’t bring yourself to look up and see his eyes.

“What is your type?”

You forced yourself to find his stare.

Jason said nothing.

He just looked at you, at your eyes, your lips, trailing down to your hands, fidgeting with the broken pencil, your torso uneasy in your seat, and at the black leather jacket around your shoulders. It wasn’t his. It was yours.

You lied to Kurt. You did like that jacket. You got it the other day to match with Jason.

He looked back down at his notebook, smiling through his shut lips.

You could feel the blood in your veins stop its circulation.

In turn, you paled white.

You took his coffee again before you exploded. Jason hadn’t even touched it since he came in, so you went ahead and took another sip. “Sorry. I just really need the caffeine right now.”

He tapped the end of his pencil onto the paper. “It’s okay.”

You forced yourself to work. Jason did nothing but stare at the empty table, tapping his pencil on the surface. You caught him with his teeth on his lip, then he swallowed, staring at the ground.

“It’s for you.”

You looked up.

“What?”

“The coffee,” he put his crossed arms over the table and dipped his head down. “I got it for you. I know you’ve been wanting one since the machine broke.”

You stared at the cup, then at him.

Everything in you wanted to fall. To the ground. In a spiral. Under the soil. Wherever.

Your head dipped down so your hair would cover your cheeks. It was hard to swallow when he moved the cup over to your side of the table, smiling at you like no one ever had.

“Thank you,” you coughed out, taking the cup and gulping a quarter of it down.

“You’re welcome.” He started writing in his notebook.

Jason said he liked this job, that he didn’t mind the shelving or any of the work. No one’s asked you if you liked your job since you got here. Not even Jason. Everyone just assumed you hated it.

You took another sip of coffee.

“I put one packet of creamer in there. I wasn’t sure how much you wanted.”

“It’s perfect.”

He smiled again. Each time, it nipped away at your chest.

You were glad no one’s asked you if you hated this job.

Because then you’d have to admit that you loved it.

---

Were you jealous?

He didn’t mean to make you jealous.

But were you?

You looked like it. Just before Jason sat back down, you looked like you were about to jab that pencil up his nose.

Not that it would be any different from how you looked at him half the time.

You couldn’t be jealous. He couldn’t tell himself that either. His hopes shouldn’t be so high.

But maybe he could have that hope. Or at least see if he should. He gave you that coffee to see how you’d react before he gave you what he actually wanted to give you.

Jason spent his one night off patrol staying up until 4 am to find one single book in the manor’s collection of thousands. He tore apart every shelf, every corner, until almost every book was on the floor.

He did all that so he could give you The Raven.

Your favourite poem from Edgar Allan Poe, bound with other poetry—an incredibly rare edition from 1884.

Its cover was bound by embossed leather, and its pages were almost golden in age. A few weeks ago, he read a newer collection similar to the one you got from the library. He could’ve just given you that, but he wanted to give you something no bookstore could offer unless you dug through the most overpriced listings on eBay.

If you even wanted it.

This was more terrifying than any bomb he had to disarm.

You didn’t read like he did. This was something he liked that you just happened to be fond of yourself. Maybe this was weird.

Making you smile wasn’t easy, but it was a challenge he wanted to overcome every day.  

You’d laugh. Probably.

You did read the first book a lot.

Unless you were just being nice and exaggerated how much you liked it.

But you wouldn’t be nice about that. If you hated it, you’d be sure to let him know.

He’ll make a fool of himself by the day’s end.

So Jason didn’t reach into his bag and forced himself not to look up at you, or else he’d trip and hurt himself even more. For now, at least.

He felt you tap on his hand about half an hour into your work.

“What?”

You put your finger up to your lips, then you pointed at the librarian’s desk. Ms. Peterson, the old hag, had fallen asleep over her keyboard and was drooling all over the keys.

You both placed your pens down, grinning at each other. That smile, your smile: he’d tear through every library in Gotham to see that. He nodded over to the exit, and you stared at him, unsure.

But you were suddenly so soft to touch, moving with him even from his slight pull, when he reached over to hold your hand.

You couldn’t tear your eyes off him when you floated out the exit, quiet enough not to wake the dragon in her sleep. What caught people’s attention, however, was not the fact that you two were sprinting across the hallways, clearly heading somewhere you weren’t supposed to be.

It was because your hands were tightly wrapped around Jason Todd’s.

You turned around a corner of a hallway where the lights were off, where he knew a supply closet was, and most likely empty. But when he pulled you in, locked the door behind him, and turned around, he’d failed to anticipate how your lips were a deadly six inches away from his.

You jolted when the mess on the shelves behind you poked against your back, and with no other space for you to stand on, your hand wandered around the walls looking for a switch.

You felt the laugh he forced out of his mouth just to ease you. He wasn’t sure if there was anything he could do to ease you at all. Not when every breath filled his lungs and pushed his chest to touch yours.

“So we, uh—” he swallowed. “We don’t have to stay here for long. Just until the coast is clear.”

“Sure.”

You probably didn’t have to see his eyes to see how much they were darting around in the dark, both trying to find yours and avoid them for his heart’s sake. Your stare—lost in the darkness; he wanted to tear through every black fabric to find it.

Jason’s hand found the light switch before he could lean in any closer. Finally, he could see how close you are, before you flinched away. Probably so he doesn’t catch on to how lost you were as well.

Then he caught sight of your black eye. His hand instinctively drew back a piece of your hair to look at it closer, to which you swatted his hand away and turned to the side so he couldn’t see it.

“Did they kick Lana out of the team?”

You snorted. “Benched her. Her hearing is next week.”

“You got her a prison sentence and everything.”

“Hardly.”

“I’m sure she deserved it.”

It was impossible to hide your grin from this close. Every inch of your curved lips made him want to leap.

“What now?

“We wait until she gives up,” he said.

“She probably hasn’t even noticed.”

“Then we wait until she notices, tries to find us, then gives up.”

“You want to be here forever?”

Jason grinned. “I don’t mind.”

You took a roll of toilet paper and shoved it at his chest. “I do.”

“You could do other things to pass the time,” he said. “Like sing.”

You snorted, “Nice try.”

“Come on. No one can hear us.”

Then there was no way you could hide the wave of redness flushed on your cheeks. It took too many seconds to realize how he’d growled that last sentence out of his throat. Unfortunately for him, there was no way to hide in a place where you were already hiding in.

“No.”

“Please.”

“Not here.”

“So there’s a chance.”

“No.”

His head fell against the door behind him—an attempt to hide his own surge of heat surfacing to his face.

“I’m sure it would kill us sooner if we stayed here inhaling each other’s breath for hours than it would to step outside, Todd.”

“You sure you don’t want that?”

“I’m sure.”

“Fine.”

You shoved him to the side and opened the door, then the cold rushed all over the sweat he hadn’t realized was pouring all over his back.

“Come on,” you said. “Let’s go outside.”

Your grin was beautiful. You took his hand and led him out into the field.

He never thought your comfort in holding his hand would mean so much, considering you’d bite off any other hand that dared to tap your shoulder.

Jason didn’t see you often under the sun, not when you looked like you’d prefer to be in the shade. The way you shone amidst the darkness was what snatched the words right out of his throat when he saw you.

But he let himself watch you when it was bright. You were a contrast to everything on that field, even the browning grass that shimmered. It made it easier to only let himself get lost in you and nothing else.

You sat in the first row of the bleachers near the field. Lana was not far off, benched from the other cheerleaders where she was forced to watch them stretch and warm up, seated in the same row as you, but from the other side. She caught your eye. Even from so far, Jason could see her grip her seat hard enough to almost bend it.

But you were smiling at her, waving diabolically to draw out even more fumes from the poor girl’s head. Then you scooted closer to where Jason sat, making sure Lana could see you two sitting so close.

If he called you out on it, you might pummel him on the head, so he just looked the other way as if he didn’t notice. Not that he minded it at all.

Then Brandon, in the middle of running across the field, caught his eye. Just as quickly as he turned his head, he tripped on his shoe, face smushed onto the grass, and his ankle twisted the wrong way. Then it was Jason’s turn to be diabolical, giving him a thumbs up.

Everyone in that field probably had a reason to hate you both. Neither of you moved out of your seats.

It was just you two in the first row of the bleachers. No one dared to stand within a twenty-foot radius.

And with you leaning forward, eyes focused on something far off into the field, he took his phone out of his pocket and pretended to fiddle with it.

And when he was sure you wouldn’t notice, he took a picture of you.

“So you’ve never dated anyone before?”

Your knee nudged the side of his leg, rolling your eyes away from him to catch.

“How many times are you gonna ask me that?”

“Nothing? Not one date?”

You stuck your chin into your hand, trying not to turn to his side.

“No.”

“Have you ever been kissed?”

That probably should have stayed buried in his head for him to wonder on his own.

As it had been. For a while now.

You hid your whole mouth into your palm, eyes fixed on the grass.

His chest started to twist, and his cheeks burned through the slight chill that tickled his skin. He couldn’t take it back, not when he could see just through your eyes you were burning as well.

Your head shook, just slightly. Fingers brushing against your apparently untouched lips. “No,” you murmured, almost as if you didn’t want Jason to hear.

He wasn’t sure if he should acknowledge what he wanted to do with that information.

For both your sakes, he said nothing more. But his arm stretched out to rest on the seat behind you. Just in case you decided to lean back.

At that moment, he saw a path being paved. He didn’t know it was one he wanted to pass through until he found himself well on his way. Jason couldn’t take your eyes off you until the sky turned orange, and that serenity calmed both the burn and the chill all over his skin.

 Only for that chill to sting him with ice-cold water, spraying into his face and freezing through his clothes.

It took almost 20 seconds for the water to stop. Through the droplets dripping from his hair, his eyes caught Brandon running from the field sprinkler facing directly at you and Jason, bent over and purposely kicked on. Then he glanced to where he knew the control panel was underneath the bleachers. Through the slits, he could see another of his buddies closing the panel and running back out into the field.

Jason was about to jump on the asshole, foot first into his gut, when you frantically stood up from your seat with your hand covering the skin underneath your eye.

His instinct was to catch your hand, but you waved him away and started to run.

Trails of water dripped down from your clothes. You sprinted to the other side, and he only caught up to you when you stopped, almost tripping over your own feet, when you saw all the cheerleaders—and Lana—walking over to block you. But you couldn’t. You turned back, still covering your eye.

“Y/N!” he called. Jason caught you by the elbows and pulled you to look at him. “Why’d you run—”

Black and purple makeup dripped down to your cheek.

He knew exactly what that was for, what happened in the girls’ bathroom, and why you were running.

Jason’s next instinct was to pull your face to his chest, so no one would see your face and catch on to what you’d just done. But one of the girls had seen enough of your fake black eye and the amount of makeup pouring down almost to your neck, running to Lana on the bench.

And when he turned around, just before he could pull you somewhere to hide, Vice Principal Watson and Ms. Peterson stood at the doors back into the building.

Watson took one look at you and sighed—as if it wasn’t your first time faking an injury to punish someone you didn’t like. She pulled your hand and saw your eye perfectly fine and unbruised, with the pounds of makeup now stains of purple all over your shirt.

She motioned her fingers for you both to follow her back into the office.

None of the cheerleaders laughed or mocked you, not when you looked back at Lana, and made sure she caught your glare. Lana didn’t look like she had anything to celebrate, either, even with her being proven innocent.

She looked terrified. Because if this plan of yours to destroy her failed, it meant another was about come her way.

Whatever Lana said to you in that bathroom, it was bad enough for you to make sure she wished she never set foot into this school again.

You both left water droplets along the hallway until you reached Watson’s office. Jason went in first.

“Ms. Watson, I swear it was my fault. I made her sneak out. It was my idea—”

“Wait outside, Mr. Todd,” she sighed.

You never left his eyes when he walked slowly out the door. “It’s okay,” you whispered, before he closed it behind him.

He slumped onto the chair.

It hurt his back how much he slouched over, with his eyes stuck to the ceiling and fingers drumming over the back of his hand. His legs splayed out over the floor in front of him, suddenly so exhausted—from how quickly he was flying over his high, to running after you in panic, and now the anxiety over how badly this next punishment was going to be.

It took about half an hour and the sky beginning to get dark before he was asked to come in. But Watson didn’t send you out. You stayed on the seat across her desk as Jason took the other. Six weeks ago, you were in the same place, sentenced to never be apart. He wondered if he’d feel now if that never happened.

His chair wasn’t close enough that he could casually lay his hand against your fingers and graze them across your skin, so he could calm you when you pretended not to care. But he didn’t.

You looked at him once, then turned away into the blank surface on the table.

Watson started talking, and he didn’t even notice. His eyes were on your face, on the ruined makeup and rage in your gaze.

He only caught on once he looked away.

“I haven’t even thought of an adequate punishment for last time, Mr. Todd. And you pull this,” she sighed. Jason looked up from his hands.

“I want to help you. I really do. But your father told me not to suspend you if things get out of hand. That I should instead let him know, because once it does, he’ll send you to boarding school in Switzerland.”

His hand almost broke the wood off the chair. But this was no place for him to show off his strength.

Bruce never told him that.

That was the only time you looked at him. He saw your hand try to reach over to his, your eyes searching for his for his answer. But he didn’t have one. He couldn’t look at you after that.

“I don’t want to do that,” she said. “I don’t know what to do at all. To both of you. And I’m not supposed to admit that as a Vice Principal. But you’ve both proven to me that no punishment is enough for either of you.”

She turned to you. “You, on the other hand, warrant no less than suspension of at least three days. I expect that apology to Lana when you come back. And you have to do it right here in my office.”

You rolled your eyes.

“And it’s an extra half hour for you both in the library every day. Make sure every chair is in place, and no book is out of the shelf before you leave the building. It’s the only punishment I could think of. Because after this, I have no other choice but expulsion.”

It didn’t scare either of you as it should have.

A life he was gifted. A life no other street kid could even think of.

And he was so close to losing it all.

You both kept your silence until you were out of the office.

He should be on his way to take you home, but when you stormed out of the building, you headed for one of the tight alleyways in between buildings on campus, where he used to smoke a few years ago. Jason followed you.

You leaned against the wall, cigarette already wedged between your lips. Your hair was still damp, and you should be shivering from your drenched clothes, but you weren’t. He leaned on the wall next to you.

“You better not tell me off,” you sighed.

“I wasn’t going to.”

“We’re rotten enough as we are. What’s a little more rotten behavior?”

“Smoking isn’t rotten.”

“That’s literally what it does,” you breathed out. “To your lungs.”

“So why do you do it?”

“Because I’m cold. And it really doesn’t matter what I do, if I get suspended or expelled or whatever the fuck they do to me. I’ve been in detention every day of my life. There’s nothing that hasn’t already happened to me. Don’t go to Switzerland, Todd.”

He pulled the cigarette from your lips.

Then he stuck it to his mouth, breathed in, and then gave it back.

“I won’t,” he said. “I’ll behave. I promise. Sorry about your eye.”

You snorted.

“It was a shit makeup job, though,” Jason laughed. “I knew it wasn’t real.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“I did.”

He caught on when he had a good look at you from only inches away, but was too distracted by your lips to point it out.

“Can you tell me what really happened in the girls’ bathroom?”

Your eyes never left the ground.

“It got heated. I waited until everyone else was in the cubicles and no one could see us. Then I screamed and pretended she hit me in the face. Everyone heard us and ran into the bathroom. By then, I was on the floor, hand on my eye. Then it was her word against mine. I’m very good at faking injuries.”

“I figured that. But that’s not what I’m asking,” Jason said, turning to lean on his side. Then you could see his face and how closely he was watching you.

“I’m asking why,” he said. “What did she say to you?”

Your eyes looked up at the wall in front of you, cigarette loose and fuming between your fingers. Your throat jumped, and he caught your breath cut short.

Jason leaned closer.

“If people were in the cubicles, then they must have heard her talking. And if they did, it must have been shitty enough for them to believe your word against hers.”

“I’ve said worse shit than anything that’s ever come out of her mouth.”

“So why did everyone believe you?” he said. “What did she say that made you so mad?”

You dropped the cigarette onto the ground, smushing it against the heel of your shoe.

You said nothing for a moment. Then you murmured: “You know you’re the only person who ever asked me that?”

Jason walked over so he was standing in front of you, so your eyes couldn’t resort to escaping into anything else.

“You asked me the same thing. After the fight with Brandon. No one else did either.”

He’d never seen you tear up. And there’d be no way of telling if you did, not when your cheeks were still moist from the water and your messed-up hair covering half your face.

“There’s always a reason. We don’t just go ruin noses and lives over nothing. Doesn’t always excuse it, but it does help to understand.”

“I didn’t ruin Lana’s life.”

“Her cheer career.”

“She’ll live.”

“Maybe one day you actually will ruin a life,” he said. “And I’m sure whoever that person is, they’ll very much deserve it.”

You laughed for a second. There was no way he could wipe the sadness away from your glistening eyes, so he settled for grazing his thumb across your cheek. Your makeup smeared, and you didn’t move. You just let your eyes settle into his until looking away puts you into more unease than staying.

“I guess no one warned Lana not to make fun of you in front of your face,” he laughed.

Your eyes trailed down to his lips, to his neck.

“Lana didn’t make fun of me…”

You kept your eyes on his throat, on the parts of him you could stare at where it wasn’t his eyes.

“If she’d only said shit about me, I would’ve just punched her in the face and be done with it. But she didn’t.”

Jason stepped back.

He should have known you enough to know where you were going before you got there. But nothing reached him. Jason stood there, confused. Then you wiped the rest of the makeup stains off your face with your sleeve, like how you wiped off tears.

“She talked about you… to her friend…” you swallowed. “While I was in one of the cubicles. She didn’t even know I was there.”

He never heard his own voice as soft as it was then.

“What did she say about me?”

“Jason… I don’t want to—”

“I couldn’t care less about what she thinks. I just want to know why you’d put yourself through all that. For me.”

You softened.

Like that wasn’t even the question.

“If I tell you, you have to promise not to believe it.”

“I doubt a little shit talk can hurt my feelings, Y/N. Just tell me what made you do that.”

You breathed in and spoke through your shaking breath.

“She said,” you gulped. “Only a street kid would ever want to be with someone as horrible as me… Because you wouldn’t know how to be comfortable with someone normal…”

He breathed and made sure he could feel yours against his skin.

It wasn’t the words about him that stung.

“She said that only a dangerous person could stand to be around someone so violent.”

It stung because people lumped you into his madness.

“So I wanted people to think she was dangerous, too. An injury wasn’t enough anymore. I waited for her friend to leave, and I walked out. Then I made sure other people could hear me scream and think she hit me.”

He wasn’t sure if he should reach for your hand, not with them stuck in your pockets where he couldn’t see them shivering.

He wasn’t sure what to say to you at all.

Only to make sure you didn’t believe any of it, that those words shouldn’t have to cut you.

But they did. He wanted to tend to those cuts in whatever way he could.

“Say something, Todd…”

This wasn’t you laying out your heart to him. This was you being hurt and letting him know that you were.

Your breath was so hot on his face.

He swung his backpack in front of him, and you watched him breathless as he pulled out a large book from his bag.

Your mouth dropped at the sight of the gold embossed on the title.

The Raven.

The rest of the cover was beautifully crafted embellishments on the thick, century-old leather. This was worth more than anything the school had in its library.

“I found this lying around.”

Jason wanted to see every detail of your face, how wide your eyes shot up and how short your breaths became.

He wanted to see how you’d react to him caring about what made you happy.

That he cared about you.

“I thought… since this was your favourite, you’d like a special copy of it.”

Now it’s your turn to say something.

 “It’s uh… It has other poems and stories. Usually, you’d have to look them up on the internet, but I wanted you to have the actual book. I’m sorry. I know this is more of my thing. But I just found it in the manor’s library. Well, actually, I didn’t just find it. I had to look for it. I mean, no, I didn’t. Shit-“

Then your eyes were on him. Your mouth, open and unmoving, stirred him even more into a shivering mess. You held the book and traced your fingers over the cover.

Suddenly, the cold blowing against his drenched clothes caught up to him, and he couldn’t stop shivering.

But the cold left, just as quickly as it came, when you stood on your toes and pulled his body to yours.  

Your arms, tight around his neck, were the only things he wanted around him for the rest of the day.

You.

With your hair against his nose, face pressing into his neck,

He froze.

Once, when he was a kid, he crossed the street running away from a hotdog stand he stole from. A car violently stopped, and Jason fell even before it hit him.

He couldn’t hear a thing, not when one ear was on the concrete road and the other being blared at with a horn. He couldn’t see a thing either, not with everything so sudden it was too fast for anything to reach his brain.

Everyone and everything around him was static. His heart was both beating through the chaos, yet was too slow to keep up with his body. He looked up at the sky and saw all kinds of colors, not just the white of the clouds and the blue behind it.

This was exactly like being run over by a car. Except he never wanted to get off the ground.

Your warmth started to seep out of your clothes and through his until he felt it in his chest.

His hands floated idly for too long until they were finally around you.

Jason pulled you even tighter to him, his head pressed into your neck, his arms warm around your waist. Nothing was cold anymore.

He’d never in his life held someone that close.

Jason pressed his face into your hair and breathed.

---

You liked playing with hammers as a kid.

That said a lot about your childhood.

You had a Cabbage Patch Kid once that you didn’t want. Then your mother gave it away. You weren’t happy when she did that either.

They didn’t give you anything one Christmas, so you stormed into a mall and ripped Santa Claus’s beard off. Since then, your parents never forgot to give you anything. Just to keep you quiet

Nothing—no one—made you happy.

Yet, right then, you held someone who wanted to try.

And he knew how to do that, in just the six little weeks he knew you. He knew you enough.

It meant so much to him that you loved something he loved, too, that he did everything to make sure you’d always have something to share.

This wasn’t even about the book anymore. This was about him.

At that moment, you knew protecting him was worth everything.

You wouldn’t know the havoc you’d raise if anyone hurt him again. Not by anyone else. Not by you. And you hurt people so often, it wasn’t easy to trust yourself.

But you didn’t trust anyone else either.

You whispered the softest thank you into his ear, feeling him shiver in your embrace. His arms, strong as they were, almost lifted you off the ground. You pulled away, and you managed to just enough to see his face, but Jason wouldn’t let you go any further.

 So your lips were close enough to his that you could taste the breath out of his mouth. Your heart, frantic against your whole body, wanted you to lean back even when your lips wanted so badly to lean in.

Jason pushed you against the wall, hard enough that his chest would feel every rise out of yours.

You wanted to both jump out of your skin and sink into his arms, let him lean in and finally, finally kiss you. His finger traced down your face, tickling your cheek. Then his thumb held your chin and tilted it up so your lips were even closer.

You wanted to melt.

His other arm, still wrapped around you, was a nudge away from propelling you to the sky.

But his head turned to the side, tucking it into your shoulder so the janitor who just walked in to throw a bag into the dumpster wouldn’t be able to tell who it was. You hid your face against his chest as well.

Then the janitor saw you and shrugged.

“I won’t tell,” he snorted. “Just get out of here so I can go home.” He left.

Jason was smiling through your shoulder, before looking down into your eyes. You smiled back, leaning against the wall and feeling that serenity once more.

You will get to kiss him.

Soon.

Jason pinched your cheek before pulling you back to the driveway so he can take you home.

---

Did you deserve him?

Everyone else seemed to think so.

You had to be horrible to deserve someone so dangerous, right?

But he wasn’t dangerous.

Jason was beautiful, kind, smart, and so gentle with the things he nurtured. He liked to read. You liked to watch him read.

Anyone who thought he wasn’t perfect didn’t deserve to know him.

You couldn’t think of anything else that wasn’t about what he was thinking at the same moment. If he was thinking of you at all, at least as much as you were thinking of him.

Does he even want you like that? Is he just flirting? Is this his way of having fun?

He could get over it soon.

But this was beginning to mean so much to you.

It couldn’t possibly mean as much to him.

Your phone stared back at you for hours. You had nothing to say. Yet you had everything to tell him.

Anything to calm this down, whatever this was.

---

His legs swung over the edge from fifty stories up.

He’d have about thirty minutes before Batman would notice he wasn’t actually patrolling the neighborhood and just sitting where the air was light, fingers fumbling on his phone looking for the right words to say to you.

Maybe he could start with how he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about you everyday for weeks.

But that could be too much. Those words, in that order, have never been out of his mouth once before in his life.

He could find the right words once he heard your voice.

Robin pressed the call button, so he wouldn’t have to think at all.

You answered after the first ring.

“Hi.”

“Hey…”

Maybe he should jump and catch himself on the grapple. He might as well. That was exactly what his body felt like it was doing right then.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “Everything’s fine.”

“Okay.”

“Is everything okay with you?”

“Yeah. Of course it is.”

You sounded so hopeful. He hoped you were. So he wasn’t the only one with so much hope.

“Well, I’m here for you anyway…” you said. “Even if everything is okay.”

He wanted to kiss you so bad.

And he will. The next chance he gets, he won’t be letting it go.

“I’m here for you, too.”

He watched his legs swing from a height so high, yet it still wasn’t high enough. He wanted to be so close to the clouds that it would kill him.

He could tell you were in bed, shuffling under your sheets.

You weren’t ok.

He wasn’t either.

“Are we broken?”

He shut his eyes tight, shielding them from the wind. He crouched over and caught himself almost tipping over the edge of the building.

“You’re not…” he said. “I’m not sure about me, but you’re not broken, Y/N. Watson said we were helpless. Those aren’t the same things.”

“You saw the way she looked at us.”

He did. She looked at them like shards of glass.

“Do you think I’m broken?” he asked.

He heard you breathe. Your voice had never been softer.

“No. Just angry.”

Like you.

“There’s nothing about you that needs fixing, Y/N.”

“There is, Jay.”

It was the first time you ever called him that.

How he yearned for you next to him, so he could grab you and finally kiss you like he should have that day.

The thought of grappling and sprinting his way into your apartment was tempting.

But Jason didn’t want you to see him like this. And prove to you what everyone else had been saying. Dangerous. Violent.

“I know I’m not a good person. I’ve hurt a lot of people. And the worst part is, I don’t even feel bad. For most of it, anyway. I don’t care how other people look at me.”

Jason’s eyes were stuck on the blood that stained his suit.

“But I do care… about how you look at me…”

He didn’t just want to be in the clouds. He wanted to jump. You made him want to do anything else but face these feelings.

“You want to know what I think about you?” he whispered.

He heard you tucking yourself deeper into your blanket.

“You don’t know how many people I’ve hurt, too, Y/N. But you told me once that I wasn’t a monster, and I believed you. For a moment, you had me believing I was kind.”

“You are.”

Fuck, he wanted you.

His heart had long jumped off the building, leaving his body to deal with its recklessness.

“You only think that because I’m so evil that I make you look like a saint,” you snickered.

He rolled his eyes. “Shut up. You know that’s not what I mean.”

“What do you mean?”

“I think you know exactly what I mean.”

“I do. I just want you to say it.”

You drove him insane.

He loved it.

“I hate you,” he said.

“Do you actually?”

“No. The opposite.”

You laughed. And he fell on his back, eyes on the blank sky.

“Say it,” you said. “So I don’t look like an idiot with my hopes so high up.”

“Your hopes aren’t high enough,” he chuckled. “If you told me more about your favorite things, I’d spend another eight hours destroying Bruce’s manor just to find them.”

You stopped breathing, dead silent on the other end.

“Then I’d spend another two hours putting everything back, so Bruce doesn’t find out I’m giving away a national treasure worth four thousand dollars… to a girl who isn’t even my girlfriend yet. It’s not even a fraction of what I’d do. And you still have no idea how I feel about you?”

---

You wanted to bury yourself in your bed.

Every part of you was beating. You kept yourself warm just by touching your own skin.

You had no idea where else to go or how to get anywhere at all. But he was there, arm stretched out, ready to guide you there with him.

“No. You have to say it.”

His laugh was so beautiful on the other end.

“I will. Just not over the phone.”

He’ll tell you when your face was close enough to his, so he could kiss you right after.

“Lana was right, Y/N,” he said. “I’m not comfortable being with a lot of people. I don’t want to be. I just want to be comfortable with you.”

Jason said that, knowing how you looked at him. It didn’t matter if it was the truth.

In your eyes, he was a gentle, intelligent young man who was worth every fight. Then you’d realize his comfort in you—and only you—wasn’t because you were horrible.

It was because you needed someone to remind you that you could be a good person. That comfort was because he finally wasn’t alone in needing someone for that.

And he made you feel like you were, made you realize that you could be. Your smile echoed into his. Your happiness caused his own.

All that boy wanted to do was to make your day.

Not everyone would dare to step into the dark, much less go out of their way to make it brighter.

One day, you’ll learn how to calm your frantic heart.

You tucked your smile deep into your blankets and eventually fell asleep on call, no longer fighting the warmth under your skin. You let it burn.

---

He never hung up on you all night. He went on patrol like he was supposed to, but kept you on call, just in case you’d call his name.

This city needed Batman to keep it safe. Batman needed Robin to help out.

Jason needed you.

It wasn’t every day someone would fight for him the way he had to fight for this city every night.

---

A/N: their feelings are more explicit! there's more angst! let me know if you love it!

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST:

@littleredwing89 @pricetagofficial @l-inkage @offendedfishnoises @bungunz @boosyboo9206 @estrela-rogers @americasmarauders @lucy-roo @satan-s-ass @shadowsndaisies @deadbeatphobos @thesunxxtodd

[batarella]

I Don't Hate You - Remastered - Chapter 6 (Jason Todd x Reader Series)

You're the meanest girl in school. Everyone is terrified of you. But when you're sentenced to ten weeks of detention at the school's library with another brooding troublemaker, Jason Todd, you find out there is, in fact, at least one guy on earth who isn't afraid of you.

And you hate that.

IDHY REMASTERED EDITION: GENERAL REVISIONS, NEW DIALOGUE, BONUS CONTENT, AND EXTENDED SCENES.

A/N: too many months too late. holiday season had me way too busy but I didn't want to leave this behind! Hope I can post more frequently. This one has A LOT of changes. I thought the original version didn't have too many things happening at all. A LOT of Victorious scenes were added in. HOPE YOU LIKE IT

WORDS: 8,000

WARNINGS: MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE, SMOKING, INJURY

MASTERLIST

----

“Hi.”

A blonde guy appeared in front of you, hands gripping the empty seat from across the table. You barely tilted your head up to look at him.

“My name’s Kurt.”

“So?” You raised both eyebrows, then you saw him gulp.

“I’m uh… I’m sorry about your eye. I heard about what happened.”

Like the whole school did that morning, his eyes darted over the bruise under your left eye. If picking a fight with a football player had word explode in three days, it took one night for everyone to know about your catfight with a cheerleader and the black eye she sent you home with.

But the reason it was so talked about was that it wasn’t the other way around. The Vice Principal, especially, was skeptical that you lost a fight.

“I, uhm, was wondering if I could sit with you?”

“No.”

“Oh. Is someone already sitting here?”

“No.”

You saw his throat jump like a golf ball poked out of his neck.

“I thought you might need some company since you’re all busy with-“

He was good-looking, and he looked confident until you started talking. Kurt looked down at your outfit and smiled the best he could. “I really like your jacket-“

“I hate this jacket.”

He took another step back. “But-“

“It’s hot, and it itches my back.”

He was starting to sweat, fumbling after his trembling mouth. “I-uh, think you look nice today.”

“So yesterday I looked gross?”

He stepped back.

“Like I usually look disgusting and today I got lucky?!”

Every word out of him was mush. Eventually, he stood so far back that he hit the shelf. Then fire shot out of your eyes when he probably realized you’d have to be the one to put them all back again.

Kurt sprinted for the door.

If losing a catfight was a green light for people to start approaching you, you’d make sure you never walk out of one without the other person almost unconscious.

He burst out of the library, almost slamming into Jason as he walked in holding a cup of coffee. Jason watched him run, unshaken with his other hand in his pocket.

“What was that about?”

He sat on the chair across from you.

“Nothing,” you sighed, eyes falling back on your work. “My eye hurts.”

“Oh yeah?” Jason snickered. “Which one?”

“Cute,” you scoffed, seeing him place his cup of coffee on the table. “I want coffee. No one told me the machine was back on.”

“It is. Just this morning,” he coughed through his throat. “Did you put ice on your eye?”

You nodded. “Last night. And this morning. Like you told me to.”

“Good.” He leaned in and reached out his hand. “Let me see.”

“I’m fine.”

You wanted him to grab your cheek and stand so close to you that his breath would be hot against your skin, but you didn’t let him. You grabbed his hand and settled with the feel of it on yours, gentle and damp with sweat from his palms.

He smiled at you, pinching your palm before slowly pulling away and settling back in his seat.

 Then he took the drenched notebook from in front of you on the table.

“Peterson wants us to rewrite everything just ‘cuz she placed it right under a leak overnight.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“We have two hours.”

“And what happened here?” Jason looked back at the ruined shelf.

“You should probably go fix that.” You took the notebook back and started writing.

“Why me?”

“’Cuz I don’t wanna do it.”

“Neither do I.”

“Then I guess Ms. P will have to do it herself.”

“She’d never do that.”

“You better get started.”

“I hate you.”

“I hate you, too.”

His grin made you want to jump out the window. One of these days you might actually will.

“I’m taking a sip!” you cried, placing the coffee cup to your lips as he walked over to the shelf. The corner of his lips curved up before picking up the books from the floor.

He reached up the top shelf, holding six books at once with one strong arm. Then a girl clutching a book to her chest walked up to him.

Her hair was in a braid, her light eyes in a permanent smile, and her arms snug in a soft pink cardigan. Her skirt was down to her knees, but not in a way that made her look like a child at church. She looked like Mandy Moore from A Walk To Remember.

“Hi…” she said. And Jason smiled back. “Hi.”

Your eyes darted up from your notebook with your eyebrow almost to your hairline.

She told Jason her name. Jason told her his. She brushed her braid to the back of their ear and let her hair fall to her cheeks.

Then she asked about an author you had no idea about. Jason knew exactly where that was, pointing to the literary fictionaisle five rows down. But the girl didn’t walk away. She continued to talk.

“Have you read any of his books?” he said.

“Some of them. Yeah.”

She stepped forward to get closer to him. The pencil in your hand was burning in your palm like a stick brought to a fire.

“You work here?”

“Yeah. On detention.”

“I wouldn’t mind working in a library.” The girl ran a hand down the shelf. “I could read all day.”

Jason snorted. “I wish I could read all day. Ms. Peterson has us doing military work for two hours.”

She laughed like it was the funniest fucking joke in the world. It wasn’t. He placed more books on the shelf.

“You don’t seem to mind it,” she said.

“I don’t. I like it here.”

You definitely felt the pencil light a fire in your hand. It didn’t burn you enough to tear your eyes and ears away from them.

“Is shelving all you do all day?”

“Nope. I get to write and rewrite records in notebooks. Kills my hand by the end of it.”

Her eyes lit up. “Do you work here alone? Because, if you need the extra help, I love libraries and I’d love to work in one—"

The pencil in your hand finally broke in half from your thumb.

“HEY.”

You could’ve silenced a fly.

Both she and Jason shot their heads in your direction.

“We’re not hiring. And he has work to do.” That’s when you turned to Jason. “JASON, ARE YOU GONNA HELP ME WITH THESE RECORDS OR WHAT?”

Jason had to bite his lips not to laugh at any of your faces. “Yeah, sorry. We’re fully staffed. I’ll see you around.”

The girl nodded gently at Jason as he walked away, then she caught your eye again, shaking, before disappearing into the shelves.

You pretended not to look at him when Jason took back his seat, his arms crossed over his chest, and the grin on his face spreading to half his head. You didn’t look up when you handed him his own set of wet notebooks and dry ones to rewrite them on. “On with it.”

Only the devil had half the snark in his grin. And if it didn’t rile up the bugs in your stomach to flutter more viciously, you would’ve punched it off his jaw.

“You okay there?”

You turned a page and continued writing. “Fine.”

“Thought you were all grumpy because of your eye.”

You shrugged. “I am.”

Jason’s eyes were on the half-broken pencil in your hand.

“You seem to have a lot in common,” you said.

“Just ‘cuz she reads books doesn’t mean we have a lot in common.”

“She liked you.”

Subtlety was not something you were fond of when you wanted a response as blunt as you were. Maybe later that night, you’d feel the embarrassment catch up. Right then, it was far from doing so.

But Jason just laughed, and not in a way that embarrassed you at all.

“She’s not my type.”

Something sharp lodged in your neck. You couldn’t bring yourself to look up and see his eyes.

“What is your type?”

You forced yourself to find his stare.

Jason said nothing.

He just looked at you, at your eyes, your lips, trailing down to your hands, fidgeting with the broken pencil, your torso uneasy in your seat, and at the black leather jacket around your shoulders. It wasn’t his. It was yours.

You lied to Kurt. You did like that jacket. You got it the other day to match with Jason.

He looked back down at his notebook, smiling through his shut lips.

You could feel the blood in your veins stop its circulation.

In turn, you paled white.

You took his coffee again before you exploded. Jason hadn’t even touched it since he came in, so you went ahead and took another sip. “Sorry. I just really need the caffeine right now.”

He tapped the end of his pencil onto the paper. “It’s okay.”

You forced yourself to work. Jason did nothing but stare at the empty table, tapping his pencil on the surface. You caught him with his teeth on his lip, then he swallowed, staring at the ground.

“It’s for you.”

You looked up.

“What?”

“The coffee,” he put his crossed arms over the table and dipped his head down. “I got it for you. I know you’ve been wanting one since the machine broke.”

You stared at the cup, then at him.

Everything in you wanted to fall. To the ground. In a spiral. Under the soil. Wherever.

Your head dipped down so your hair would cover your cheeks. It was hard to swallow when he moved the cup over to your side of the table, smiling at you like no one ever had.

“Thank you,” you coughed out, taking the cup and gulping a quarter of it down.

“You’re welcome.” He started writing in his notebook.

Jason said he liked this job, that he didn’t mind the shelving or any of the work. No one’s asked you if you liked your job since you got here. Not even Jason. Everyone just assumed you hated it.

You took another sip of coffee.

“I put one packet of creamer in there. I wasn’t sure how much you wanted.”

“It’s perfect.”

He smiled again. Each time, it nipped away at your chest.

You were glad no one’s asked you if you hated this job.

Because then you’d have to admit that you loved it.

---

Were you jealous?

He didn’t mean to make you jealous.

But were you?

You looked like it. Just before Jason sat back down, you looked like you were about to jab that pencil up his nose.

Not that it would be any different from how you looked at him half the time.

You couldn’t be jealous. He couldn’t tell himself that either. His hopes shouldn’t be so high.

But maybe he could have that hope. Or at least see if he should. He gave you that coffee to see how you’d react before he gave you what he actually wanted to give you.

Jason spent his one night off patrol staying up until 4 am to find one single book in the manor’s collection of thousands. He tore apart every shelf, every corner, until almost every book was on the floor.

He did all that so he could give you The Raven.

Your favourite poem from Edgar Allan Poe, bound with other poetry—an incredibly rare edition from 1884.

Its cover was bound by embossed leather, and its pages were almost golden in age. A few weeks ago, he read a newer collection similar to the one you got from the library. He could’ve just given you that, but he wanted to give you something no bookstore could offer unless you dug through the most overpriced listings on eBay.

If you even wanted it.

This was more terrifying than any bomb he had to disarm.

You didn’t read like he did. This was something he liked that you just happened to be fond of yourself. Maybe this was weird.

Making you smile wasn’t easy, but it was a challenge he wanted to overcome every day.  

You’d laugh. Probably.

You did read the first book a lot.

Unless you were just being nice and exaggerated how much you liked it.

But you wouldn’t be nice about that. If you hated it, you’d be sure to let him know.

He’ll make a fool of himself by the day’s end.

So Jason didn’t reach into his bag and forced himself not to look up at you, or else he’d trip and hurt himself even more. For now, at least.

He felt you tap on his hand about half an hour into your work.

“What?”

You put your finger up to your lips, then you pointed at the librarian’s desk. Ms. Peterson, the old hag, had fallen asleep over her keyboard and was drooling all over the keys.

You both placed your pens down, grinning at each other. That smile, your smile: he’d tear through every library in Gotham to see that. He nodded over to the exit, and you stared at him, unsure.

But you were suddenly so soft to touch, moving with him even from his slight pull, when he reached over to hold your hand.

You couldn’t tear your eyes off him when you floated out the exit, quiet enough not to wake the dragon in her sleep. What caught people’s attention, however, was not the fact that you two were sprinting across the hallways, clearly heading somewhere you weren’t supposed to be.

It was because your hands were tightly wrapped around Jason Todd’s.

You turned around a corner of a hallway where the lights were off, where he knew a supply closet was, and most likely empty. But when he pulled you in, locked the door behind him, and turned around, he’d failed to anticipate how your lips were a deadly six inches away from his.

You jolted when the mess on the shelves behind you poked against your back, and with no other space for you to stand on, your hand wandered around the walls looking for a switch.

You felt the laugh he forced out of his mouth just to ease you. He wasn’t sure if there was anything he could do to ease you at all. Not when every breath filled his lungs and pushed his chest to touch yours.

“So we, uh—” he swallowed. “We don’t have to stay here for long. Just until the coast is clear.”

“Sure.”

You probably didn’t have to see his eyes to see how much they were darting around in the dark, both trying to find yours and avoid them for his heart’s sake. Your stare—lost in the darkness; he wanted to tear through every black fabric to find it.

Jason’s hand found the light switch before he could lean in any closer. Finally, he could see how close you are, before you flinched away. Probably so he doesn’t catch on to how lost you were as well.

Then he caught sight of your black eye. His hand instinctively drew back a piece of your hair to look at it closer, to which you swatted his hand away and turned to the side so he couldn’t see it.

“Did they kick Lana out of the team?”

You snorted. “Benched her. Her hearing is next week.”

“You got her a prison sentence and everything.”

“Hardly.”

“I’m sure she deserved it.”

It was impossible to hide your grin from this close. Every inch of your curved lips made him want to leap.

“What now?

“We wait until she gives up,” he said.

“She probably hasn’t even noticed.”

“Then we wait until she notices, tries to find us, then gives up.”

“You want to be here forever?”

Jason grinned. “I don’t mind.”

You took a roll of toilet paper and shoved it at his chest. “I do.”

“You could do other things to pass the time,” he said. “Like sing.”

You snorted, “Nice try.”

“Come on. No one can hear us.”

Then there was no way you could hide the wave of redness flushed on your cheeks. It took too many seconds to realize how he’d growled that last sentence out of his throat. Unfortunately for him, there was no way to hide in a place where you were already hiding in.

“No.”

“Please.”

“Not here.”

“So there’s a chance.”

“No.”

His head fell against the door behind him—an attempt to hide his own surge of heat surfacing to his face.

“I’m sure it would kill us sooner if we stayed here inhaling each other’s breath for hours than it would to step outside, Todd.”

“You sure you don’t want that?”

“I’m sure.”

“Fine.”

You shoved him to the side and opened the door, then the cold rushed all over the sweat he hadn’t realized was pouring all over his back.

“Come on,” you said. “Let’s go outside.”

Your grin was beautiful. You took his hand and led him out into the field.

He never thought your comfort in holding his hand would mean so much, considering you’d bite off any other hand that dared to tap your shoulder.

Jason didn’t see you often under the sun, not when you looked like you’d prefer to be in the shade. The way you shone amidst the darkness was what snatched the words right out of his throat when he saw you.

But he let himself watch you when it was bright. You were a contrast to everything on that field, even the browning grass that shimmered. It made it easier to only let himself get lost in you and nothing else.

You sat in the first row of the bleachers near the field. Lana was not far off, benched from the other cheerleaders where she was forced to watch them stretch and warm up, seated in the same row as you, but from the other side. She caught your eye. Even from so far, Jason could see her grip her seat hard enough to almost bend it.

But you were smiling at her, waving diabolically to draw out even more fumes from the poor girl’s head. Then you scooted closer to where Jason sat, making sure Lana could see you two sitting so close.

If he called you out on it, you might pummel him on the head, so he just looked the other way as if he didn’t notice. Not that he minded it at all.

Then Brandon, in the middle of running across the field, caught his eye. Just as quickly as he turned his head, he tripped on his shoe, face smushed onto the grass, and his ankle twisted the wrong way. Then it was Jason’s turn to be diabolical, giving him a thumbs up.

Everyone in that field probably had a reason to hate you both. Neither of you moved out of your seats.

It was just you two in the first row of the bleachers. No one dared to stand within a twenty-foot radius.

And with you leaning forward, eyes focused on something far off into the field, he took his phone out of his pocket and pretended to fiddle with it.

And when he was sure you wouldn’t notice, he took a picture of you.

“So you’ve never dated anyone before?”

Your knee nudged the side of his leg, rolling your eyes away from him to catch.

“How many times are you gonna ask me that?”

“Nothing? Not one date?”

You stuck your chin into your hand, trying not to turn to his side.

“No.”

“Have you ever been kissed?”

That probably should have stayed buried in his head for him to wonder on his own.

As it had been. For a while now.

You hid your whole mouth into your palm, eyes fixed on the grass.

His chest started to twist, and his cheeks burned through the slight chill that tickled his skin. He couldn’t take it back, not when he could see just through your eyes you were burning as well.

Your head shook, just slightly. Fingers brushing against your apparently untouched lips. “No,” you murmured, almost as if you didn’t want Jason to hear.

He wasn’t sure if he should acknowledge what he wanted to do with that information.

For both your sakes, he said nothing more. But his arm stretched out to rest on the seat behind you. Just in case you decided to lean back.

At that moment, he saw a path being paved. He didn’t know it was one he wanted to pass through until he found himself well on his way. Jason couldn’t take your eyes off you until the sky turned orange, and that serenity calmed both the burn and the chill all over his skin.

 Only for that chill to sting him with ice-cold water, spraying into his face and freezing through his clothes.

It took almost 20 seconds for the water to stop. Through the droplets dripping from his hair, his eyes caught Brandon running from the field sprinkler facing directly at you and Jason, bent over and purposely kicked on. Then he glanced to where he knew the control panel was underneath the bleachers. Through the slits, he could see another of his buddies closing the panel and running back out into the field.

Jason was about to jump on the asshole, foot first into his gut, when you frantically stood up from your seat with your hand covering the skin underneath your eye.

His instinct was to catch your hand, but you waved him away and started to run.

Trails of water dripped down from your clothes. You sprinted to the other side, and he only caught up to you when you stopped, almost tripping over your own feet, when you saw all the cheerleaders—and Lana—walking over to block you. But you couldn’t. You turned back, still covering your eye.

“Y/N!” he called. Jason caught you by the elbows and pulled you to look at him. “Why’d you run—”

Black and purple makeup dripped down to your cheek.

He knew exactly what that was for, what happened in the girls’ bathroom, and why you were running.

Jason’s next instinct was to pull your face to his chest, so no one would see your face and catch on to what you’d just done. But one of the girls had seen enough of your fake black eye and the amount of makeup pouring down almost to your neck, running to Lana on the bench.

And when he turned around, just before he could pull you somewhere to hide, Vice Principal Watson and Ms. Peterson stood at the doors back into the building.

Watson took one look at you and sighed—as if it wasn’t your first time faking an injury to punish someone you didn’t like. She pulled your hand and saw your eye perfectly fine and unbruised, with the pounds of makeup now stains of purple all over your shirt.

She motioned her fingers for you both to follow her back into the office.

None of the cheerleaders laughed or mocked you, not when you looked back at Lana, and made sure she caught your glare. Lana didn’t look like she had anything to celebrate, either, even with her being proven innocent.

She looked terrified. Because if this plan of yours to destroy her failed, it meant another was about come her way.

Whatever Lana said to you in that bathroom, it was bad enough for you to make sure she wished she never set foot into this school again.

You both left water droplets along the hallway until you reached Watson’s office. Jason went in first.

“Ms. Watson, I swear it was my fault. I made her sneak out. It was my idea—”

“Wait outside, Mr. Todd,” she sighed.

You never left his eyes when he walked slowly out the door. “It’s okay,” you whispered, before he closed it behind him.

He slumped onto the chair.

It hurt his back how much he slouched over, with his eyes stuck to the ceiling and fingers drumming over the back of his hand. His legs splayed out over the floor in front of him, suddenly so exhausted—from how quickly he was flying over his high, to running after you in panic, and now the anxiety over how badly this next punishment was going to be.

It took about half an hour and the sky beginning to get dark before he was asked to come in. But Watson didn’t send you out. You stayed on the seat across her desk as Jason took the other. Six weeks ago, you were in the same place, sentenced to never be apart. He wondered if he’d feel now if that never happened.

His chair wasn’t close enough that he could casually lay his hand against your fingers and graze them across your skin, so he could calm you when you pretended not to care. But he didn’t.

You looked at him once, then turned away into the blank surface on the table.

Watson started talking, and he didn’t even notice. His eyes were on your face, on the ruined makeup and rage in your gaze.

He only caught on once he looked away.

“I haven’t even thought of an adequate punishment for last time, Mr. Todd. And you pull this,” she sighed. Jason looked up from his hands.

“I want to help you. I really do. But your father told me not to suspend you if things get out of hand. That I should instead let him know, because once it does, he’ll send you to boarding school in Switzerland.”

His hand almost broke the wood off the chair. But this was no place for him to show off his strength.

Bruce never told him that.

That was the only time you looked at him. He saw your hand try to reach over to his, your eyes searching for his for his answer. But he didn’t have one. He couldn’t look at you after that.

“I don’t want to do that,” she said. “I don’t know what to do at all. To both of you. And I’m not supposed to admit that as a Vice Principal. But you’ve both proven to me that no punishment is enough for either of you.”

She turned to you. “You, on the other hand, warrant no less than suspension of at least three days. I expect that apology to Lana when you come back. And you have to do it right here in my office.”

You rolled your eyes.

“And it’s an extra half hour for you both in the library every day. Make sure every chair is in place, and no book is out of the shelf before you leave the building. It’s the only punishment I could think of. Because after this, I have no other choice but expulsion.”

It didn’t scare either of you as it should have.

A life he was gifted. A life no other street kid could even think of.

And he was so close to losing it all.

You both kept your silence until you were out of the office.

He should be on his way to take you home, but when you stormed out of the building, you headed for one of the tight alleyways in between buildings on campus, where he used to smoke a few years ago. Jason followed you.

You leaned against the wall, cigarette already wedged between your lips. Your hair was still damp, and you should be shivering from your drenched clothes, but you weren’t. He leaned on the wall next to you.

“You better not tell me off,” you sighed.

“I wasn’t going to.”

“We’re rotten enough as we are. What’s a little more rotten behavior?”

“Smoking isn’t rotten.”

“That’s literally what it does,” you breathed out. “To your lungs.”

“So why do you do it?”

“Because I’m cold. And it really doesn’t matter what I do, if I get suspended or expelled or whatever the fuck they do to me. I’ve been in detention every day of my life. There’s nothing that hasn’t already happened to me. Don’t go to Switzerland, Todd.”

He pulled the cigarette from your lips.

Then he stuck it to his mouth, breathed in, and then gave it back.

“I won’t,” he said. “I’ll behave. I promise. Sorry about your eye.”

You snorted.

“It was a shit makeup job, though,” Jason laughed. “I knew it wasn’t real.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“I did.”

He caught on when he had a good look at you from only inches away, but was too distracted by your lips to point it out.

“Can you tell me what really happened in the girls’ bathroom?”

Your eyes never left the ground.

“It got heated. I waited until everyone else was in the cubicles and no one could see us. Then I screamed and pretended she hit me in the face. Everyone heard us and ran into the bathroom. By then, I was on the floor, hand on my eye. Then it was her word against mine. I’m very good at faking injuries.”

“I figured that. But that’s not what I’m asking,” Jason said, turning to lean on his side. Then you could see his face and how closely he was watching you.

“I’m asking why,” he said. “What did she say to you?”

Your eyes looked up at the wall in front of you, cigarette loose and fuming between your fingers. Your throat jumped, and he caught your breath cut short.

Jason leaned closer.

“If people were in the cubicles, then they must have heard her talking. And if they did, it must have been shitty enough for them to believe your word against hers.”

“I’ve said worse shit than anything that’s ever come out of her mouth.”

“So why did everyone believe you?” he said. “What did she say that made you so mad?”

You dropped the cigarette onto the ground, smushing it against the heel of your shoe.

You said nothing for a moment. Then you murmured: “You know you’re the only person who ever asked me that?”

Jason walked over so he was standing in front of you, so your eyes couldn’t resort to escaping into anything else.

“You asked me the same thing. After the fight with Brandon. No one else did either.”

He’d never seen you tear up. And there’d be no way of telling if you did, not when your cheeks were still moist from the water and your messed-up hair covering half your face.

“There’s always a reason. We don’t just go ruin noses and lives over nothing. Doesn’t always excuse it, but it does help to understand.”

“I didn’t ruin Lana’s life.”

“Her cheer career.”

“She’ll live.”

“Maybe one day you actually will ruin a life,” he said. “And I’m sure whoever that person is, they’ll very much deserve it.”

You laughed for a second. There was no way he could wipe the sadness away from your glistening eyes, so he settled for grazing his thumb across your cheek. Your makeup smeared, and you didn’t move. You just let your eyes settle into his until looking away puts you into more unease than staying.

“I guess no one warned Lana not to make fun of you in front of your face,” he laughed.

Your eyes trailed down to his lips, to his neck.

“Lana didn’t make fun of me…”

You kept your eyes on his throat, on the parts of him you could stare at where it wasn’t his eyes.

“If she’d only said shit about me, I would’ve just punched her in the face and be done with it. But she didn’t.”

Jason stepped back.

He should have known you enough to know where you were going before you got there. But nothing reached him. Jason stood there, confused. Then you wiped the rest of the makeup stains off your face with your sleeve, like how you wiped off tears.

“She talked about you… to her friend…” you swallowed. “While I was in one of the cubicles. She didn’t even know I was there.”

He never heard his own voice as soft as it was then.

“What did she say about me?”

“Jason… I don’t want to—”

“I couldn’t care less about what she thinks. I just want to know why you’d put yourself through all that. For me.”

You softened.

Like that wasn’t even the question.

“If I tell you, you have to promise not to believe it.”

“I doubt a little shit talk can hurt my feelings, Y/N. Just tell me what made you do that.”

You breathed in and spoke through your shaking breath.

“She said,” you gulped. “Only a street kid would ever want to be with someone as horrible as me… Because you wouldn’t know how to be comfortable with someone normal…”

He breathed and made sure he could feel yours against his skin.

It wasn’t the words about him that stung.

“She said that only a dangerous person could stand to be around someone so violent.”

It stung because people lumped you into his madness.

“So I wanted people to think she was dangerous, too. An injury wasn’t enough anymore. I waited for her friend to leave, and I walked out. Then I made sure other people could hear me scream and think she hit me.”

He wasn’t sure if he should reach for your hand, not with them stuck in your pockets where he couldn’t see them shivering.

He wasn’t sure what to say to you at all.

Only to make sure you didn’t believe any of it, that those words shouldn’t have to cut you.

But they did. He wanted to tend to those cuts in whatever way he could.

“Say something, Todd…”

This wasn’t you laying out your heart to him. This was you being hurt and letting him know that you were.

Your breath was so hot on his face.

He swung his backpack in front of him, and you watched him breathless as he pulled out a large book from his bag.

Your mouth dropped at the sight of the gold embossed on the title.

The Raven.

The rest of the cover was beautifully crafted embellishments on the thick, century-old leather. This was worth more than anything the school had in its library.

“I found this lying around.”

Jason wanted to see every detail of your face, how wide your eyes shot up and how short your breaths became.

He wanted to see how you’d react to him caring about what made you happy.

That he cared about you.

“I thought… since this was your favourite, you’d like a special copy of it.”

Now it’s your turn to say something.

 “It’s uh… It has other poems and stories. Usually, you’d have to look them up on the internet, but I wanted you to have the actual book. I’m sorry. I know this is more of my thing. But I just found it in the manor’s library. Well, actually, I didn’t just find it. I had to look for it. I mean, no, I didn’t. Shit-“

Then your eyes were on him. Your mouth, open and unmoving, stirred him even more into a shivering mess. You held the book and traced your fingers over the cover.

Suddenly, the cold blowing against his drenched clothes caught up to him, and he couldn’t stop shivering.

But the cold left, just as quickly as it came, when you stood on your toes and pulled his body to yours.  

Your arms, tight around his neck, were the only things he wanted around him for the rest of the day.

You.

With your hair against his nose, face pressing into his neck,

He froze.

Once, when he was a kid, he crossed the street running away from a hotdog stand he stole from. A car violently stopped, and Jason fell even before it hit him.

He couldn’t hear a thing, not when one ear was on the concrete road and the other being blared at with a horn. He couldn’t see a thing either, not with everything so sudden it was too fast for anything to reach his brain.

Everyone and everything around him was static. His heart was both beating through the chaos, yet was too slow to keep up with his body. He looked up at the sky and saw all kinds of colors, not just the white of the clouds and the blue behind it.

This was exactly like being run over by a car. Except he never wanted to get off the ground.

Your warmth started to seep out of your clothes and through his until he felt it in his chest.

His hands floated idly for too long until they were finally around you.

Jason pulled you even tighter to him, his head pressed into your neck, his arms warm around your waist. Nothing was cold anymore.

He’d never in his life held someone that close.

Jason pressed his face into your hair and breathed.

---

You liked playing with hammers as a kid.

That said a lot about your childhood.

You had a Cabbage Patch Kid once that you didn’t want. Then your mother gave it away. You weren’t happy when she did that either.

They didn’t give you anything one Christmas, so you stormed into a mall and ripped Santa Claus’s beard off. Since then, your parents never forgot to give you anything. Just to keep you quiet

Nothing—no one—made you happy.

Yet, right then, you held someone who wanted to try.

And he knew how to do that, in just the six little weeks he knew you. He knew you enough.

It meant so much to him that you loved something he loved, too, that he did everything to make sure you’d always have something to share.

This wasn’t even about the book anymore. This was about him.

At that moment, you knew protecting him was worth everything.

You wouldn’t know the havoc you’d raise if anyone hurt him again. Not by anyone else. Not by you. And you hurt people so often, it wasn’t easy to trust yourself.

But you didn’t trust anyone else either.

You whispered the softest thank you into his ear, feeling him shiver in your embrace. His arms, strong as they were, almost lifted you off the ground. You pulled away, and you managed to just enough to see his face, but Jason wouldn’t let you go any further.

 So your lips were close enough to his that you could taste the breath out of his mouth. Your heart, frantic against your whole body, wanted you to lean back even when your lips wanted so badly to lean in.

Jason pushed you against the wall, hard enough that his chest would feel every rise out of yours.

You wanted to both jump out of your skin and sink into his arms, let him lean in and finally, finally kiss you. His finger traced down your face, tickling your cheek. Then his thumb held your chin and tilted it up so your lips were even closer.

You wanted to melt.

His other arm, still wrapped around you, was a nudge away from propelling you to the sky.

But his head turned to the side, tucking it into your shoulder so the janitor who just walked in to throw a bag into the dumpster wouldn’t be able to tell who it was. You hid your face against his chest as well.

Then the janitor saw you and shrugged.

“I won’t tell,” he snorted. “Just get out of here so I can go home.” He left.

Jason was smiling through your shoulder, before looking down into your eyes. You smiled back, leaning against the wall and feeling that serenity once more.

You will get to kiss him.

Soon.

Jason pinched your cheek before pulling you back to the driveway so he can take you home.

---

Did you deserve him?

Everyone else seemed to think so.

You had to be horrible to deserve someone so dangerous, right?

But he wasn’t dangerous.

Jason was beautiful, kind, smart, and so gentle with the things he nurtured. He liked to read. You liked to watch him read.

Anyone who thought he wasn’t perfect didn’t deserve to know him.

You couldn’t think of anything else that wasn’t about what he was thinking at the same moment. If he was thinking of you at all, at least as much as you were thinking of him.

Does he even want you like that? Is he just flirting? Is this his way of having fun?

He could get over it soon.

But this was beginning to mean so much to you.

It couldn’t possibly mean as much to him.

Your phone stared back at you for hours. You had nothing to say. Yet you had everything to tell him.

Anything to calm this down, whatever this was.

---

His legs swung over the edge from fifty stories up.

He’d have about thirty minutes before Batman would notice he wasn’t actually patrolling the neighborhood and just sitting where the air was light, fingers fumbling on his phone looking for the right words to say to you.

Maybe he could start with how he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about you everyday for weeks.

But that could be too much. Those words, in that order, have never been out of his mouth once before in his life.

He could find the right words once he heard your voice.

Robin pressed the call button, so he wouldn’t have to think at all.

You answered after the first ring.

“Hi.”

“Hey…”

Maybe he should jump and catch himself on the grapple. He might as well. That was exactly what his body felt like it was doing right then.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “Everything’s fine.”

“Okay.”

“Is everything okay with you?”

“Yeah. Of course it is.”

You sounded so hopeful. He hoped you were. So he wasn’t the only one with so much hope.

“Well, I’m here for you anyway…” you said. “Even if everything is okay.”

He wanted to kiss you so bad.

And he will. The next chance he gets, he won’t be letting it go.

“I’m here for you, too.”

He watched his legs swing from a height so high, yet it still wasn’t high enough. He wanted to be so close to the clouds that it would kill him.

He could tell you were in bed, shuffling under your sheets.

You weren’t ok.

He wasn’t either.

“Are we broken?”

He shut his eyes tight, shielding them from the wind. He crouched over and caught himself almost tipping over the edge of the building.

“You’re not…” he said. “I’m not sure about me, but you’re not broken, Y/N. Watson said we were helpless. Those aren’t the same things.”

“You saw the way she looked at us.”

He did. She looked at them like shards of glass.

“Do you think I’m broken?” he asked.

He heard you breathe. Your voice had never been softer.

“No. Just angry.”

Like you.

“There’s nothing about you that needs fixing, Y/N.”

“There is, Jay.”

It was the first time you ever called him that.

How he yearned for you next to him, so he could grab you and finally kiss you like he should have that day.

The thought of grappling and sprinting his way into your apartment was tempting.

But Jason didn’t want you to see him like this. And prove to you what everyone else had been saying. Dangerous. Violent.

“I know I’m not a good person. I’ve hurt a lot of people. And the worst part is, I don’t even feel bad. For most of it, anyway. I don’t care how other people look at me.”

Jason’s eyes were stuck on the blood that stained his suit.

“But I do care… about how you look at me…”

He didn’t just want to be in the clouds. He wanted to jump. You made him want to do anything else but face these feelings.

“You want to know what I think about you?” he whispered.

He heard you tucking yourself deeper into your blanket.

“You don’t know how many people I’ve hurt, too, Y/N. But you told me once that I wasn’t a monster, and I believed you. For a moment, you had me believing I was kind.”

“You are.”

Fuck, he wanted you.

His heart had long jumped off the building, leaving his body to deal with its recklessness.

“You only think that because I’m so evil that I make you look like a saint,” you snickered.

He rolled his eyes. “Shut up. You know that’s not what I mean.”

“What do you mean?”

“I think you know exactly what I mean.”

“I do. I just want you to say it.”

You drove him insane.

He loved it.

“I hate you,” he said.

“Do you actually?”

“No. The opposite.”

You laughed. And he fell on his back, eyes on the blank sky.

“Say it,” you said. “So I don’t look like an idiot with my hopes so high up.”

“Your hopes aren’t high enough,” he chuckled. “If you told me more about your favorite things, I’d spend another eight hours destroying Bruce’s manor just to find them.”

You stopped breathing, dead silent on the other end.

“Then I’d spend another two hours putting everything back, so Bruce doesn’t find out I’m giving away a national treasure worth four thousand dollars… to a girl who isn’t even my girlfriend yet. It’s not even a fraction of what I’d do. And you still have no idea how I feel about you?”

---

You wanted to bury yourself in your bed.

Every part of you was beating. You kept yourself warm just by touching your own skin.

You had no idea where else to go or how to get anywhere at all. But he was there, arm stretched out, ready to guide you there with him.

“No. You have to say it.”

His laugh was so beautiful on the other end.

“I will. Just not over the phone.”

He’ll tell you when your face was close enough to his, so he could kiss you right after.

“Lana was right, Y/N,” he said. “I’m not comfortable being with a lot of people. I don’t want to be. I just want to be comfortable with you.”

Jason said that, knowing how you looked at him. It didn’t matter if it was the truth.

In your eyes, he was a gentle, intelligent young man who was worth every fight. Then you’d realize his comfort in you—and only you—wasn’t because you were horrible.

It was because you needed someone to remind you that you could be a good person. That comfort was because he finally wasn’t alone in needing someone for that.

And he made you feel like you were, made you realize that you could be. Your smile echoed into his. Your happiness caused his own.

All that boy wanted to do was to make your day.

Not everyone would dare to step into the dark, much less go out of their way to make it brighter.

One day, you’ll learn how to calm your frantic heart.

You tucked your smile deep into your blankets and eventually fell asleep on call, no longer fighting the warmth under your skin. You let it burn.

---

He never hung up on you all night. He went on patrol like he was supposed to, but kept you on call, just in case you’d call his name.

This city needed Batman to keep it safe. Batman needed Robin to help out.

Jason needed you.

It wasn’t every day someone would fight for him the way he had to fight for this city every night.

---

A/N: their feelings are more explicit! there's more angst! let me know if you love it!

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST:

@littleredwing89 @pricetagofficial @l-inkage @offendedfishnoises @bungunz @boosyboo9206 @estrela-rogers @americasmarauders @lucy-roo @satan-s-ass @shadowsndaisies @deadbeatphobos @thesunxxtodd

[pricetagofficial]

Scream For Me -D.G & W.W. [18+]

Warnings: Language, violence, blood, death, murder, NSFW smut, oral, fingering, vaginal sex, double penetration, degradation, dubcon (heavy on the dubious), coersion?

Pairing: Dick Grayson x Reader X Wally West

Masterlist

Word Count: 13.5K

A/N: Well, here it is! My contribution to Kinktober 2025! I have been planning this for literally since last October, and I finally committed to the bit. Big thanks to my besties @offendedfishnoises and @niggxrette for helping me get through this and keep me going. Without these two, it probably would've taken another year. I hope you all enjoy my little Scream AU!

You tried to ignore the words, the things said to stab at you and make you feel inferior. It didn’t help when your mother’s death made you become the most exciting thing to happen in your hometown’s recent history. For the last year, you and your poor dad have been trying to move on, ignore the rumors, and keep going. 

The locals made that harder than it sounded. Especially when two bodies were found, not just dead, but gutted and mutilated.

Garth and Lilith were your friends. Their bodies were found at Lilith’s, with Garth found tied to a chair on the back patio. Lilith was strung up from a tree and left to die like she was on display. 

The whole thing sent a shiver down your spine; everything was happening too close to home for your liking. Donna and Kori looked over and saw the upset look on your face. They knew nothing would be able to keep you away from all of this fully, but that still didn’t do anything. 

You tried to get out, away from everything. But all roads lead to home, especially when the university you attended was only an hour drive away. 

“Hey, Y/N. Are you alright?” 

You felt Donna put a hand on your shoulder as you walked down the street. The three of you were just walking through the town, trying to get your mind off of everything. 

Letting out a sigh, you turned to look at her and shrugged. “What is there to be bothered by?” 

Donna shot Kori a look over your shoulder, one that said she wasn’t impressed with your bullshit. 

“Babe, there’s nothing wrong with being bothered by what’s going on. Two of our friends are dead, and it’s days before the anniversary of your mother’s death. We’d be more worried if you weren’t upset by any of this.” Kori sighed, linking her arm with yours. 

“We’re here for you, no matter what. You know that, right?” 

Looking between your friends, you nodded. All of your friends have been supportive this last year. Outside of them, Garth and Lilith, you had Roy and Wally, who were best friends with your boyfriend, Dick. 

At the thought of him, your heart swelled. It’s been weeks since you saw him last. He understood your need to get out and away from everything, and you understood his not wanting to leave just yet. 

You were actually supposed to meet him later tonight, but decided a small walk around town, complete with some shopping, is what you needed at the moment. That’s where Kori and Donna came in. Within minutes of your call, the two of them showed up at your door dressed and ready to rake the town together. 

“I know you guys are always here for me, and I can't tell you how much I appreciate it. Things haven’t felt the same, and I guess I’m just worried.” 

Donna gave you a quizzical look, “Worried? Worried about what?” 

“I don’t know, I guess just being too different? I feel like everything is changing, and I can’t keep up. What if I lose you guys, or Dick? I’ve already lost my mom, Garth, and Lilith. I don’t think I could lose anyone else.” 

Your friends shared a look of sympathy. Grabbing your arms, they pulled you to a stop and made you look at them. 

“Y/N, you’ve been through a traumatic ordeal. It’s going to change you and how you view life. What’s important is that you don’t lose yourself in the process.” Kori said, her tone soft and gentle. “If you came back to us the same as you left, I’d be more worried.” 

Donna nodded in agreement. “Kori’s right. We love you, and we aren’t going anywhere, okay?” 

You could feel the tears well up in your eyes, unable to stop the few strays from trickling down your face. “I couldn’t ask for better friends.”

“I know,” Donna grinned. “Now, how about we go hit that new shop down the street? I heard Rachel say they have some killer new sets that are to die for. We’ll show Dick what he’s been missing.” 

A few hours and a couple hundred dollars later, the three of you walked out of the store with bags hung over your arms filled with items that gave you a new sense of confidence. Your dad had just left town the day before, and Dick was due to arrive roughly when the sun set, so you had time to get yourself home and all dolled up for him. 

It didn’t take long for you to get home, bidding Donna and Kori farewell. Shaking off the emotions of the day, you unlocked the door and walked in. This was supposed to be a fun night, and you were determined to keep it that way. 

Setting your bags by the steps, you tossed your keys into the bowl with the other sets on the buffet in the hall. Most of the lights were off, as any normal money-saving adult would do. Walking through the house, you turned on a few lights and let out a sigh. 

It had been a while since you’d been back home, but it hadn’t changed a bit. It was still home. 

Making your way back around to the stairs, you picked up the back and walked up to where your room still was. Your dad kept it the way you left it for times like this, where you would come home every so often. It showed that he still wanted you around. 

Shutting the door, you made sure the curtains were shut before you began to change. Kori and Donna had talked you into buying a dark blue lingerie set complete with little red bows all over. Your goal was to surprise Dick, but they wanted to give him a heart attack. 

The velvet material felt like silk on your skin, with the black lace lining the cleavage of the top and around the legs. Looking at yourself in the mirror, you turned and admired your form. Dick was sure to fall at your feet the second he saw you in the outfit. 

With a satisfied hum, you turned and grabbed your robe. It was seconds after you fastened the tie that your phone rang. 

Picking up the device, you saw it was an unknown number. Tilting your head in confusion, you answered the call. 

“Hello?” 

“Hello, (Y/N).”

Immediately, you felt a shiver run down your spine. The voice wasn’t recognizable, and the tone of the voice had filled you with a sense of unease. 

“Who is this?”

“What would your boyfriend think of you wearing a set like that for another man?”

You felt the color drain from your face. Immediately, you ran to the window and threw open the curtains. The porch lights were still on, and there wasn’t a person in sight. Looking around, your breath picked up at the thought of someone watching you somewhere. 

How the hell could they see you? Your windows were shut, the doors were locked, and you were the only one home. For all you knew, this could be some fucker across town calling you, to freak you out after what happened to Garth and Lilith. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m on the couch watching the game.” 

There was a pause, the caller’s breath rasping over the line. There was some rustling before the voice returned. 

“You and I both know that’s not true.” There was a hint of glee in the caller’s tone, as if he knew something you didn’t. “I have to say, royal blue looks sexy on you. But I think the red bows are my favorite,” 

Your eyes widened as you whipped around, trying to find where the caller could be hiding. If you weren’t afraid before, you definitely were now, and there was no hiding it. Someone was in your house, and they were watching you. 

“Who the fuck are you?” you hissed, tightening the grip you had on your phone. 

“Now, now, answers come in due time. But I suggest you watch your mouth before I gut you like I did to your friends.” 

This was so much worse than you thought. This wasn’t just some prank call with a home invader. Whoever killed Garth and Lilith was the one watching you. 

“Now, if you want to live, be a good girl and do as I say.” There was more rustling before the voice returned. “Take off the robe,” 

“I– what?” you squeaked, wrapping your arms tighter around yourself. 

“I said take off the fucking robe, or you’re going to be seeing your friends a lot sooner than you think,” the voice snapped. 

With shaky hands, you slowly undid the front of the robe. You weren’t sure where the caller was hiding, but it had to be somewhere nearby to see you in real time. 

“That’s it, baby, such a good girl.” 

You heard his voice drop an octave the second your robe hit the floor. You tried to ignore the pooling wetness in your underwear, focusing on how to handle the situation without dying or losing your dignity. 

“Now give me a turn, I want to see your sexy body.” 

Doing as the voice said, you kept your phone pressed to your ear as you slowly turned. Using this to your advantage, you looked everywhere you could to try to figure out where the person could be hiding. It was when you were facing your closet that the voice told you to stop. 

You heard the caller inhale sharply and more rustling noises.

“Fucking shit, you look good enough to eat,” the voice purred, clearly turned on by the view. “Think you could give me a show?” 

Your eyes went wide. The caller had to be in the closet; there was no other explanation. With the lines across the paneling, there was enough space that someone hiding in there would be able to see you perfectly, where you were standing. 

“Don’t make me tell you again,” the voice warned, “Entertain me,” 

Standing your ground, you refused to move. “Not until you leave my closet.” 

“You don’t want that. When I come out, I’m going to kill you. Gut you open like a pig and string you from a tree, just like that little friend of yours.” The voice growled. “You don’t want that, do you?” 

You had nothing to protect yourself with. Darting your eyes around, you landed on the lamp sitting by your door. If you wanted to make it out alive, you had to stand your ground and fight back. 

“Last warning, or I’m coming out to play.” 

“Fuck you.” 

Tossing your phone to the floor, you ran towards the lamp. Behind you, the door to your closet was shoved off its hinges, turning into a pile of wood on the floor. Sparing a glance back, you saw a person dressed in a large black robe and a Ghostface mask. In one hand was the phone, and the other held a large butcher knife, poised at the ready to stab you. 

Grabbing the lamp, you ripped it off the nightstand and threw it at the attacker. 

Hearing it land with a thud, you took this moment to throw your bedroom door open and run down the stairs. Grabbing a large coat off the rack, you threw it over your shoulders before heading for the front door. 

You could hear the footsteps behind you, thundering down the steps, making your fear and panic rise to higher levels. It wasn’t until you tried to open the door that you remembered you had locked it. Turning to look where the keys were, Ghostface was within feet of you. 

You didn’t have time to try to unlock the door. Darting down the hall, you grabbed your keys before heading to the back. If you were fast enough, you could get there, open the door, and make a break for it to your neighbors. 

You were steps away from the door when a hand came and grabbed you by the back of the head with a fistful of hair. Your feet went out from under you, giving the attacker the advantage they needed. 

They pulled you up, knife reflecting in the window in front of you as Ghostface kept a tight grip. You could see the white mask, it shockingly bright in the window reflection. You had one chance at this. If you failed, this was it. You were done for. 

Twisting the keys in your hand, you tightened your grip before moving to shove it into the arm holding you by the hair. 

Ghostface let out a cry of pain as they let you go, your body falling to the floor. Your keys slid out of your hand with a clatter, but you paid no mind. You had to get help, you had to get out. Shoving the cloaked figure to the floor, you got up and ran back to your room. Slamming the door shut, you locked it behind you and picked your phone up from the floor. 

Immediately, you dialed 911. 

“911, what’s your emergency?” 

“He’s here, he’s in my house!” You cried. “The one who killed my two friends the other night is in my house!” 

Seconds later, there was a banging on your door, making you scream and drop your phone. You couldn’t stop the tears from falling down your face as you turned and began to pry your window open. The second you got it open, another body came into view, making you jump back and scream. 

“Hey, hey.” Dick’s voice cooed as he climbed in the window. “What’s going on, sweetheart?” 

“Dick!” you cried, gripping him tightly. “He’s here! He’s trying to get in!” 

Looking over at the door, it had suddenly gone silent. But that didn’t mean Ghostface was gone. 

Letting his eyes flit back towards you, Dick raised a brow. “Was this for me?”

Feeling the heat rise in your face, you looked away. “Can we not talk about that right now? I’m half dressed, and there is a murderer in my house,” you hissed. 

Dick chuckled before he bent down to pick up your discarded robe, helping you slip it back on. “Stick close to me, okay?” 

You gave him a nod. You weren’t sure what Dick was going to do, but having him here made you feel more at ease.

“What are you going to do?” 

“See if he’s still here, and then chase him out.” 

Nodding slowly, you kept your robe wrapped tightly around you. There was a cool breeze through the house, making goosebumps rise on your skin. Nothing felt safe, not the street, not the store, and not even your own home now. What were you supposed to do? 

Quietly, you followed Dick down the stairs as he kept an eye out. The house was silent now, not a sound to be heard besides your scared breathing and footsteps from you and Dick. 

Suddenly, he stopped, not giving you a heads up, forcing you to bump into him. The force was hard enough for an object to fall out of his pocket. Looking down, it was a burner phone. Tilting your head, you knelt to pick it up and gave Dick a look. 

“Dick, why do you have a burner in your pocket?” 

Quickly, he whipped around to look at you, and his silence set you more on edge. 

“Sweetheart, it’s not–” 

“Don’t you fucking dare tell me this isn’t yours, Richard Grayson. It fell out of your goddamn pocket.” 

Dick stayed silent, and that made every alarm bell in your head ring. Before he could say anything, you shoved him aside and made a break for the front door. It was wide open now, that being the source of the chilly breeze. 

You didn’t care that you were half-dressed; you had to get away. Something told you Dick had something to do with what just happened, his sudden appearance right as Ghostface disappears, and the cheap burner phone? Too many things were lining up. 

Not looking where you were going, you ran face-first into another body that had you screaming. 

Hands came up to stop you, forcing you to look at them. “Hey, ma’am, it’s alright.” 

Looking up, you saw a familiar face. It was Officer Harvey, an old family friend of your dad’s and Dick’s families. 

Without taking a breath, you explained everything that happened, down to the second Dick showed up with, the burner falling out of his pocket, and you running out the door. Before you knew it, Dick was arrested, and Kori was there within minutes with Donna at her side. 

The rest of the night went by in a blur. Dick was in jail for the night, the town sheriff wanting to hold him for questioning. Kori and Donna helped you pack a bag, and the three of you went down to Kori’s for the night. 

They didn’t want to ask you about what happened, but they wanted to help you. Even after you fell into an uneasy sleep, one of them stayed awake to keep an eye out. The killer wasn’t confirmed to be caught, and they didn’t want to be caught unaware if he decided to show back up.

You got an uneasy night of sleep, but you were rested. You woke up that morning to the news that Dick was in fact released from jail, his father coming in to confirm he was with him at the time of the attack, clearing him from trying to murder you. 

That didn’t erase the uneasy feeling that something wasn’t lining up. Deciding to take a break, you kept your phone off for the day. You didn’t want or need to see what people were saying about you or how you were dressed. 

You especially didn’t want to hear from Dick or any of his excuses. That didn’t stop Roy or Wally from coming to Kori’s and checking on you. Of course, you gave them basic answers, refusing to really divulge what you were feeling. Mainly because you didn’t know what you were feeling. 

How were you supposed to describe to someone the feeling of grief with the anniversary of your mom’s death, finding out two of your friends were brutally murdered, right before you were almost murdered yourself? To top it off, your boyfriend, the whole reason you came back to town, was suspect number one, and no one seemed to be able to leave you alone. 

Donna and Kori at least seemed to understand the fact that you didn’t understand, and you loved them for it. They respected you and your feelings more than most people in your life. Which was why you agreed to go to Wally’s stupid party in the first place. His family was gone for the weekend, and with you back in town, he wanted to do a big high school reunion, get-together. 

In his words, he “wanted to get the band back together now that everyone was here.” You weren’t sure how to feel about that, the last few days doing enough to shock your mental state into crazy places.

That led to where you were now, standing in the foyer of Wally’s house, taking a look around. You hadn’t been back to your place yet and had no desire to. With your house keys missing, you didn’t want to go home with the risk of someone letting themselves in again. 

Within minutes of you showing up, Wally bounded towards you with a huge grin on his face. “There she is! How are my three favorite girls?”

Kori and Donna both rolled their eyes at Wally’s antics. This was how he always greeted the three of you, and it seemed that it would never change. 

Walking around you, Wally wrapped his arms around the three of you from behind. “Alright, so the food is in the kitchen, obviously. Drinks are in the ice box in the garage, movies are in the living room, and the bedrooms are upstairs if you guys ever so need one.” 

You could hear the grin on his face without having to look at him. Wally was always one for these parties, his loud and outgoing personality making him a natural magnet for parties and social events.  

“Oh, Dick is around here somewhere,” he hummed, tapping you on the shoulder. “Said he wanted to talk to you about something, or something.” 

Huffing a laugh, you slunk out of his arms. “Well, I’m not sure I even want to talk to him about something, or something.” 

“Not even so I can apologize?” 

Hearing his voice, you quickly turned around to see Dick leaning against the kitchen doorway. His blue eyes were watching you intently, with dark bangs hanging in his face, with an unreadable expression on his face. 

Wrapping your arms around yourself, you slowly took a step back. “I’m not even sure I want to hear it, Dick.” 

Pushing off the wall, he made his way over to you and stopped at the bottom of the steps. “Give me a chance?” 

Looking at his outstretched hand, you chewed your lip in thought. It wouldn’t hurt to hear what he had to say, would it? The question was, would you believe what he had to say?

Glancing back at Donna and Kori, you saw them give you a small nod as if they were encouraging you to at least give it a shot. If they thought Dick was worth it, then you could give him a shot. 

Letting out a breath, you took his hand as Dick led you up the stairs and to an empty bedroom. You walked in and stopped in the middle, taking a look around. You noticed the wallpaper, decor, lighting fixtures, just about every detail that gave the room the character it had. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the closet. It had the same style of doors as your own back home. Quickly, you walked over and threw the doors open and let out a sigh of relief, seeing that no one was hiding in it this time. 

“Scared of the boogy man?” 

Jumping a little at his voice, you turned to look at Dick and shrugged. “Didn’t Roy tell you he’s called Michael Meyers, or The Shape and no. No boogyman to jump out and try to kill me.” 

Dick chuckled at your comment. “You’re right. Roy loves his horror movies.” Looking at the floor, Dick kicked at the carpet. 

“Listen, I didn’t mean to scare you like that,” he started. “Your door was locked, and I thought your dad was still home, so I came in the window.” 

Watching him intently, you nodded for him to continue. 

“The burner was because Bruce and I are having another fight, and that’s the phone I use when I don’t want anyone to know where I’m going or to contact me that I don’t want to.” 

That made some sense. Dick loved and respected his guardian, but they didn’t always see eye to eye. You remember hearing about all the spats they had growing up Dick would run away and hide at your place for the night before he would go home in the morning. It seemed that was still a habit he had in the present day. 

“I’m sorry for scaring the hell out of you. I didn’t mean for it to happen like that.” 

Stepping closer, you carefully took Dick’s hand. “I’m sorry too, for jumping to conclusions before I could listen to what you had to say.” 

Dick’s eyes finally met yours, a soft smile gracing his face. “Sweetheart, you don’t have to apologize. Someone broke into your house and tried to kill you. Of course, you would be suspicious if I suddenly showed up and the guy disappeared at the same time.” 

You let out a sigh of relief. Dick wasn’t mad at you, and you weren’t mad at him any longer. It was a misunderstanding. Moving to sit on the bed, you giggled as Dick pulled you onto his lap and held you close. 

“I missed you so fucking much you have no idea.” 

“I missed you, too, Dick.” 

Cupping his face, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his. Dick’s hold tightened on you as he held you firmly in place. It didn’t take long for the kiss to escalate, and before you knew it, your clothes were off and across the floor. Dick followed after. 

You didn’t realize how much you missed him, not until he had you pressed under him as he made love to you, making sure you knew how loved you were. It had been a while since you felt like this, at home and safe. Dick was your home, the reason you kept going every day. 

It wasn’t long until you both were at your highs, Dick’s sultry voice talking you through your orgasm as if it wasn’t the hottest thing he’s ever done. Once you were both done and spent, the two of you lay there together, soaking in the moment before you patted his chest. 

“Come on, we need to rejoin the party or everyone is going to know what we did.”

It didn’t take long for you and Dick to get your clothes back on. What took the longest was finding them. As you adjusted your shirt and buttoned your pants, you couldn’t fight the smile forming on your face. Things were finally going right. You and Dick were okay, your friends never stopped supporting you, and despite it all, you were still alive. 

That feeling came crashing down when you turned to look at Dick and saw the very same man who tried to kill you the night before walking up behind him. Your eyes went wide, and before you could even get a sound out, Dick turned, and you were forced to watch as Ghostface slashed his chest open and stabbed him in the side. 

A horrified scream left you, the shrill sound filling the air. 

Frantically, you looked around for another way out. Running to the left, you saw a door and ran for it. Luckily, it went through a different room, giving you the chance to escape. However, you could hear the steps of your pursuer. 

You had to keep going; nothing good would happen if you stopped. Dick had just died in front of you, and you wanted to mourn him, but that would only get you killed. Running through another door, you slammed it shut behind you and barricaded it with several items you found. 

The sounds of Ghostface banging on the door echoed through the attic, each one making you jump as tears fell down your face. You didn’t want to die here; you couldn’t die here. Someone had to get out and alert someone of what was happening. 

Your only way out was the window behind you. But even then, that was a steep drop from the roof to the ground below. Was it a risk you were willing to take? 

Glancing back at the window, you could see that there was a boat sitting there below. Maybe that could catch your fall. Not wasting another second, with the creaking wooden sounds behind you of the door behind broken open, you quickly opened the window. 

Immediately, you were greeted with fresh air, which gave you a new sense of life. It wasn’t going to last long if you didn’t move quickly. Taking a deep breath, you kicked the screen out and slowly climbed your way out of the window. Carefully setting one foot and then the other, you made sure you had enough standing before you turned and were greeted with the sight of Ghostface in front of you. 

Before you could process what was happening, he grabbed your wrist as you swung the other and clocked him in the face. You tried to pull out of his grip, hitting his wrist and hand to try and make him lose his hold. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you watched him raise the knife and tried to dodge out of the way, making him stab you in the shoulder instead of the chest. 

You let out a shriek of pain, using that as he pulled the knife back to attack again, and kicked off the roof. His grip on you was gone, and you were airborne for a few moments before landing harshly on the top of the boat below. 

You could hear the creaking and quaking of not just the boat, but your body as it tried to recover from the fall. It hurt like hell, but it got you away. Trying to catch your breath, you carefully got off the boat and frantically looked around. 

Maybe there would be something in the garage that could help. Turning to enter, you looked up and were met with the sight of Donna hanging from the doggy door, her head crushed in with a lifeless look on her face. 

“No!” You collapsed to your knees, sobs wracking your body as you looked at your friend’s dead body. It had only been maybe an hour since you saw her last, and she’s been here for who knows how long while you were rekindling things with Dick. 

Hearing a sound to your left, you quickly got up. The killer was still on the loose, and you couldn’t stay here. Running around to the front of the house, you saw that most people had left. What was going on? Nothing made sense anymore. Someone at the party had to be running around a Ghostface, and your list of suspects was running low. 

Dick and Donna were dead, and Kori, Roy, and Wally were all unaccounted for. You had to find them and try to warn them. 

Hearing more steps, you quickly ducked behind the bush and heard a voice. 

“None of this makes any fucking sense. Just because I like the movies doesn’t mean I want to live in one of these movies.” 

Peaking around, you saw that it was Roy.

“Roy,” you hissed. “Quick, over here!” 

Hearing your voice, Roy quickly ran over and hid with you. 

“What the hell is going on? How did you get all the way out here?” 

Huffing a sigh, you gave him a look. “It’s a really long story. Where did everyone go? Where’s Wally? And have you seen Kori?” 

Roy shrugged, “I think they all went to get more beer. Donna never came back with more, so they all assumed that it was gone, and for some stupid reason, they all left.” 

“Donna’s dead, so is Dick,” you whispered, looking around. 

You watched his eyes go wide, “What the hell? Dick and Donna? What the fuck happened?” 

There was a sense of unease in the air, like you weren’t alone. Looking around, you ducked further behind the bush. “Dick was killed in the bedroom, and Donna was crushed into the garage door.” 

“Hoy fucking shit,” 

You sighed, “Yeah,” 

Before Roy could respond, there was the sound of a snapping twig behind you. Quickly, you both turned to see where the sound came from, and not too far from where you were hiding, you could see the white Ghostface mask standing out from the night sky. 

He had his knife in one hand, raised at the ready. Tilting his head, you watched as he waved at you, before he took off running towards you. 

Not wasting another moment, you began to shove Roy to get up. 

“Run!” 

The two of you ran; you weren’t sure where, but you had to find a place to hide. Your phone was lost inside, and even if you had it, there was very little reception where Wally lived, so it was pointless. 

You could feel your lungs ready to burst as you ran, not daring to look back because you knew Ghostface was hot on your heels. 

“We’ve got to get help. If we split up, you can run until you get enough service to get help,” you wheezed, urging your feet to keep going. 

“Me?” he asked incredulously, “Why me?” 

“Because you’re faster, now  go!” 

Roy shot you another look before he pivoted and ran towards the road. “Don’t you fucking die on me too.” 

Giving him a nod, you turned and made your way back to the house. You had a feeling Ghostface would follow you because you were the easier target. Smaller, slower, and weaker. You could feel the stab wound on your shoulder start to cause you more issues, the pain throbbing through you as you ran through the uneven grass and dirt. 

There had to be someone else alive, someone who could try to help you. Your only bet was to find Kori, but part of you was scared of what condition you would find her in. 

Finding your way back to the front door, you saw that it was wide open and started to make your way back to it. You were almost to the door when you heard the sound of snapping twigs. Quickly, you turned and saw Wally coming up to you. You wished you could relax at the sight of him; he was the only other one unaccounted for that wasn’t Kori, and you were sure she wasn’t trying to kill you. 

“Y/N, what the hell is going on?” he huffed, holding his side as he walked towards you. 

Backing away quickly, you spared a glance at the door and then the woods. Roy was supposed to be getting help, but you had no idea if he even managed to get away. With that thought, you wondered where Wally had been the entire time. 

“You tell me,” you questioned, eyeing him carefully. 

Wally looked a little taken aback. “What is that supposed to mean?” 

“I mean, you are the only person I haven’t seen tonight since people started getting murdered.” 

He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Oh come on, we both know that’s stupid.” 

Narrowing your eyes, you weren’t sure what to make of his response. “It’s not stupid when someone is trying to kill us,”

Before Wally could respond, you heard more footsteps. Roy came stumbling out from the other side of the house and jogged over the second he saw the two of you. 

“Roy! What the hell are you doing here!” you hissed. “You were supposed to go get help!” 

“I couldn’t just leave you like this; who knows where that lunatic is. For all I know, it could be Wally, and I’d be leaving you here with him.”

Wally didn’t take kindly to that accusation. “Hey! For all I fucking know, it could be you.” 

You quickly shook your head. “That’s impossible, Roy and I were both chased.” Slowly, you started to step back towards the open door.

“Yeah,” Wally scoffed, “and how do we know this fucker doesn’t have an accomplice?” 

Roy looked as confused as you felt. “What kind of stupid horror movie twist is that? Two killers? Only the one who’s trying to cover his tracks would say that.” 

Wally turned to look at Roy, with an unsettling expression on his face. “Yeah, and someone who is trying to keep himself out of it would blame the only other person here.” 

You stood there and watched them go back and forth, arguing over who the killer could be. This was getting you nowhere, and you were running out of time. On the off chance that it was neither of them, Ghostface was getting all the time he needed to come after the three of you. 

Quietly, you continued to step backward towards the door. You hated this, but your best bet at survival was to keep yourself away from people the best you could. There was no guarantee that Roy or Wally wasn’t the one running around trying to kill you, and that was two too many chances for you to risk. 

You were almost to the door when leaves crunched under your feet. Both Wally's and Roy’s heads snapped up, and they looked at you. 

“Y/N, what are you doing?” 

Like a deer caught in headlights, you just stared. What should you say? Sorry, one or both of you might be trying to kill me, and I don’t want to die. 

Not wanting to take the risk, you swallowed the lump in your throat. 

“Fuck you both,” and you took off and ran for the front door. 

You could hear their shouts behind you as they tried to catch up. It seemed both Roy and Wally had sustained some injuries from the night, but you couldn’t take the risk. You had to get out alive, even if it meant possibly risking your friends. 

Making it to the door, you quickly stepped inside and slammed it in their faces, locking it shut. 

“Let us in!” 

“We’re going to die out here!” 

“Y/N, come on! This is sick and you know it!” 

Tightening your grip on the handle, you leaned your head on the door. You couldn’t open it; you had to stay safe, wherever safe was. 

Hearing a thud behind you, you quickly turned and saw a hand reach out and around the door at the top of the stairs as they pulled themselves into view. 

With a shocked gasp, you saw that it was Dick. He was alive! Quickly, you ran over as he tumbled down the stairs towards you. Ghostface was nowhere to be seen, but you weren’t going to give him another chance to hurt Dick.

“Dick!” running up to him, as you tried to check his bloody body for the wounds. He should be dead, so how the hell is he moving?

“What is going on?” 

His head turned to the door, and Roy and Wally continued to shout and bang on the door. “Why are they locked outside?” 

Shocked at his question, you weren’t sure how to answer. “I–I–, I don’t know what’s going on, and I panicked–” 

Dick cupped your face gently as he shushed you, “It’s okay. I’m going to go get the gun from the study. You just stay here, okay?” 

Immediately, you began to protest. “Dick! You were almost killed, I can go–” 

“No,” he stopped you, as he got to his feet. “I’ll be okay,” he smiled at you gently, before he walked into the study down the hall. It didn’t take long for him to come back; the sounds of Roy and Wally fighting and banging on the door echoed through the empty house. 

You watched as Dick carefully opened the door and let the two of them in. 

“Quickly, get in.” 

Roy scrambled to get in the door. Roy’s eyes widened to see Dick there in front of him. 

“Holy shit, Y/N said you were dead,” he panted, keeping his eyes on Wally. “I don’t know what’s going on. Wally ran off! He’s gone mad!” 

Dick turned to look at you, a smile playing on his face. “We all go a little mad sometimes,” 

Before Roy could say anything, Dick aimed the gun at Roy and shot him in the chest. With a scream, you watched as he fell. Hitting his head on the steps, Roy was unconscious as he bled out in front of you on the floor. 

“Oh my god!” You covered your mouth in shock, looking at Roy before turning to look at Dick.

“Anthony Perkins, Psycho.”

The grin Dick had on his face made you feel uneasy, and why was he standing like nothing was wrong? None of this made sense; there were too many pieces you were trying to fit into the puzzle. Was Dick really involved with what happened at your house? 

Was Wally even involved? Were they both, like he had so casually suggested? 

You watched as Dick leaned against the front door, his eyes lighting up in amusement as he watched you slowly figure everything out. 

“Corn syrup,” he hummed, sucking some off his finger. “Same stuff they used for pig’s blood in Carrie.”

This was unbelievable. Dick was part of it from the very beginning; he had fooled you and everyone else completely. He killed Garth, Lilith, Donna, and now Roy. Why would he go around killing all of your friends?

“N–No,” you whimpered, turning on your heel to run away, only to be stopped by another body in your way. 

“Wally!” you gasped, looking up at him. “You’ve got to help me,” 

Wally looked at Dick before looking down at you, as the same grin formed on his face. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small white box and spoke into it.

“Surprise, Y/N.” 

You looked at him with wide eyes. That was the same voice that taunted you from your bedroom closet. Roy was right, Wally was in on it. He and Dick had been terrorizing everyone, you especially, and no one was the wiser. 

Not wanting to waste more time, you pushed Wally away and took off into the kitchen. Making your way to the other side, you were stopped by Dick, who pointed the gun at you with an uneasy look on his face. 

Wally tossed the voice modulator to Dick, who caught it with ease. 

“What’s wrong, sweetheart? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he grinned. 

Before you could do anything, Dick pushed you further into the kitchen, cornering you against the counter. You watched as Wally reached over and handed Dick the knife, then took the gun and set it on the counter beside him.

Dick stood there with the knife in his hand, twirling the handle between his fingers as he watched you. Wally grinned as he leaned over his body, resting his chin on his shoulder. There were small traces of blood–Donna’s blood–smeared on his face and hands as he wrapped an arm around Dick’s shoulders. 

“Now that she knows, what should we do with her Walls?” Dick hummed, tightening his hold on the knife and pointing it right at your throat. You were trapped in the kitchen both Dick and Wally blocking your only way out, effectively cornered in. 

You watched as Wally’s eyes case you over, an unsettling grin growing on his face. “We should use her for our own personal fun.” 

Wally pulled himself from Dick, walking around him before he stepped behind you. You felt his hands grip your upper arms tightly, holding you in place as he rested his chin dangerously close to your neck.

“Or,” he drawled the word out slowly, his breath catching your ear, making a shiver run down your spine at the sensation. “Maybe she wants in on the fun too, Dickie.” 

You felt Wally slide his hands down your arms, his fingers tracing your wrists and hands before firmly taking your waist, pulling your hips against his. A shocked gasp left your lips, feeling him pressed up against you, your hands coming to rest on his to try and do something, anything. 

 Dick watched his friend’s actions with a look of amusement, before stepping closer and pressing the tip of his knife against the bottom of your chin and forcing you to look up at him.

“What are you going to do, sweetheart? Cry?” he grinned, watching you fight internally with your thoughts. “You’re so cute when you do, why don’t you go ahead and cry for me, baby?” 

This was wrong, so wrong. Every instinct in your body was telling you to try to do something and escape. Maybe step on Wally’s foot, grab the knife from Dick, and run?

You wouldn’t get anywhere. The house is a maze, and they are both faster and stronger than you. 

Dick watched your expression as he leaned in closer. “All that lip wobbling just makes me wanna bite it.” The tone of his voice was as dangerous as it was sultry, effectively luring you in with a false sense of security with the man you thought you knew and loved. 

Flipping the knife in his hand, pointing the blade back at him, you watched as he slowly dragged your bottom lip lower with his thumb. As he did this, you could feel Wally's hands slide from your hips to the inside of your thighs.

 Wally grinned, feeling your grip on his wrist tighten as he lightly rubbed his fingers over your center, a whine escaping your lips, your body betraying you by reacting to them. 

“Oh, she's turned on by this. Maybe your sweet little darling is more fucked up than we thought,” Wally hummed, brushing his nose over your ear before eagerly snapping his teeth, making you jump in his hold. 

In doing so, you pressed down on his hand more, and a soft moan slipped out before you could stop it, making them both grin wider. 

“Fuck you,” you hissed. 

Dick watched Wally’s hand slowly rub circles with the pads of his fingers, and the way your hips moved with them. He had his fun with you upstairs already; who’s to say that he couldn’t share his girl with his best friend, especially when your body was clearly begging for it? 

“You already did, sweetheart. Now, why don’t we let Wally have a turn?” 

Wally’s grin grew bigger from the permission from his friend, adding pressure with his fingers. You could feel his erection through his pants pressing into your ass, as he let out breathy moans, the sound filling your ears. 

Your thoughts turned to mush. This was wrong. Dick and Wally were murderers; they were the ones running around town dressed as Ghostface, killing every one of your friends and more. You knew this was wrong, but your mind and your body were at war. One was trying to convince you to stop this and find a way out, but the other was growing more and more desperate with Wally’s touch and Dick’s heavy gaze watching every moment.

“God, she’s so fucking wet already and I’ve barely touched her.” Wally groaned, licking up the shell of your ear before nibbling on the lobe. “I can’t believe you’ve kept her to yourself all this time and didn’t bother sharing.” 

Dick grinned, watching you slowly give in to Wally’s advances, your head tipping back to rest on his shoulder with your eyes closed. Soft moans and pants flowed from your lips as Wally sank his teeth into the flesh on your throat, pulling your hips further back into his. 

“Just wait until you feel how tightly she squeezes around you when she’s about to cum, and the cute little sounds that follow.” Dick hummed, twirling the knife as he moved to lean against the island in the middle of the kitchen. 

“Please,” you gasped, eyes landing on Dick, who continued to watch with a grin on his face. 

Dick raised a brow as Wally’s mouth and hands got more desperate. The hand that was resting on your hip was now under your shirt, grabbing at your breast, kneading it roughly in his palm while his lips left a trail of bite marks from your ear to your collar. 

“Tell me you want me,” he demanded. 

“Tell me you want me, and I’ll make it all better, darling.” 

You stuttered, “I–” 

Could you? Should you? Everything about this was so wrong, but the way Wally’s touch and Dick’s watchful eye made you feel was so right. You’d be lying if you said you’ve never thought about Dick’s best friend like this, fucking you in front of your boyfriend for him to watch and enjoy. 

“You what, baby?” he hummed, managing to catch your clit with the fabric of your clothes, making you cry out softly. 

You had to get away, but you had to satiate this need. You felt like you were going to burn if you didn’t say yes. Was it really worth it? Compromising who you were for two people you thought you knew? 

As if Wally could hear your inner thoughts, his lips trailed back up to your ear. “Tell me you want me,” he hummed, running his tongue over your ear. “Tell me, and I’ll make sure you get us both once I’m done with you.” 

His words were your undoing. 

“I want you,” 

Wally chuckled lowly in your ear, pressing a soft kiss to it. “That’s all I needed.” 

Before you knew what was happening, Wally’s hand quickly undid the button to your pants and slid his hand down the front of your underwear. The other had a tight grip on your breast, your bra pushed up and out of the way as he kneaded your flesh in a bruising grip. 

His fingers danced their way down to your folds before he began to stroke them slowly at first. The first initial touch had you jolting in his hold, from his cold hand. Looking to your left, you could see Dick’s eyes watch intently where his best friend's hand disappeared into your pants. 

Dick knew how you felt, the way your pussy welcomed every part of him it could take from his tongue, to his hands and cock. Seeing his best friend get to experience that same feeling was doing things to him that he wasn’t sure if he wanted to name.

Wally tried to be patient; he really did. But the second he slipped a finger into your sopping hole, he was gone. 

“Fuck, Dick, she’s so fucking wet,” he whined, thrusting his finger in and out of you as he kept his hips pressed into yours. You could feel his cock strain through the fabric of his pants, the way it curved against the swell of your ass. 

Dipping his head towards your shoulder, Wally pressed sloppy kisses to your skin, leaving a trail of bites and saliva in his wake as he made his way back to your ear. 

“Look at you, such a fucking whore.” he grinned, teasing your entrance with another finger. Feeling the way your cunt fluttered at the thought of getting more made his grin widen. 

“Or should I call you greedy?” he hummed. “Is that it? Are you such a greedy, fucking whore that you can’t handle just one finger?” 

Feeling his lips drag over the shell of your ear made you shudder in his hold. The tip of his finger was barely brushing where you wanted him most, and it was going to drive you insane. Tipping your head back, you let out a moan as you try to rock your hips into his hand to try and get that touch you desired. 

Wally was elated; he had barely done anything, and you were a puddle in his hands. 

“Fuck, look at you. So desperate for me, when your boyfriend is right fucking there.” he grinned, sliding a second finger in, watching your jaw drop in ecstasy as you moaned his name. “Shit, baby, maybe Dick isn’t the only one you’re fucking with the way you just moaned.” 

You tried to shake your head in disagreement, but it was futile. Wally didn’t give a shit what you thought; he was having too much fun riling up his best friend. 

“Tell him, baby. Tell Dickie, he isn’t the only man you’re fucking. Tell him you’re a pathetic whore who can’t keep her legs closed.” 

Your eyes landed on Dick again, and you could see his pupils dilated, and hungry for you. “Dick–” you moaned, feeling Wally’s fingers stroke your walls. “I swear, it’s only you.” 

Dick was amused at what he was seeing, his eyes flicking from your face to Wally’s, who was watching him with a glint in his eyes, before he looked back at where his hand was and the very obvious wet patch growing on your pants. 

Pushing off the counter he was leaning on, Dick stepped over to you until he was only mere inches away. Tilting your chin to look up at him, he grinned. “If it’s only been me, then whose hand is in your pants?” he hummed, a grin similar to the one on Wally’s face forming on his own. 

You felt his hand grip your face, keeping your eyes on him as he toyed with the waist of your pants with his other hand. “Should I show Wally how to do it properly, baby?” 

Dick’s hand moved from the waist of your pants to the inside of your underwear to join Wally’s. The added pressure had you writhing in his hold, Wally forcefully holding you in place. Then you felt two more fingers thrust into you, along with the two that were already there. 

“Fuck!” you whined, trying to look anywhere but at Dick. You could feel the heat radiating off your face, the embarrassment of both him and Wally fingering you together, making everything physically and figuratively hotter. 

Wally groaned, biting your ear. “Fucking hell, she’s so fucking tight.” 

Dick grinned, feeling your walls tighten around their digits. "Don't worry, baby. I'm going to show Wally how to fuck you properly. We're going to make you feel so good, baby, you'd like that? Feel so fucking good before we kill you?" 

Wally was getting desperate, whining about how tight you were just from their fingers as he continued to grind into your ass. Between Dick’s touch and Wally’s filthy, pathetic pleas, you could feel that familiar coil wind up. Dick saw it on your face and could feel the way your walls tightened around them. 

“Are you going to cum, baby?” he hummed, teasing that bundle of nerves you knew would be your undoing. “Are you going to be a good little bitch and cum for us?” 

Before you could respond, you felt the coil finally snap. With a loud cry, you felt the wave of pleasure wash over you as you coated their hands in your release. Dick stroked that bundle of nerves, making you spasm between their bodies, as you made a mess of not just yourself but their hands and your pants.

Having the decency to wait until you came back down to Earth, Dick and Wally continued to coax you through your orgasm. 

“Such a good fucking girl for me, look at you showing our guest how good you are.” Dick hummed, watching your eyes glaze over slightly. “Should we give Wally a taste test?” 

You whined softly, feeling Dick swipe some of your cum onto his fingers before he brought them to his best friend's lips. Opening his mouth obediently, Wally wrapped his lips around Dick’s digits and sucked them clean. 

A pleased moan left his lips as he swallowed and grinned. “So fucking good,” 

“Do you think she deserves something more?” Dick hummed, pressing closer to your front. 

Wally grinned as he removed his hand from your pants. “I think she’s wearing entirely too much clothing. Should we change that?” 

You barely had the chance to nod in agreement when you were turned and lifted onto the counter, your back resting on the cool marble. Wally stood between your legs, Dick on the other side of the island by your head. 

Grabbing your hands, Dick kept them pinned by your head as he grinned down at you. 

“Look at you, all cute and ready for us to fucking destroy you,” he teased, leaning down low enough that his breath fanned over your face. 

“Dick,” you whined, trying to pull out of his hold. “Dick, please!” 

He only chuckled watching you, “Don’t worry, baby, Wally will take good care of you.” 

Looking down where he was standing, you saw that Wally was holding the knife in his hand now. Holding your breath, you watched as Wally slid the knife under your shirt. His free hand slowly made its way up your stomach, keeping you pressed into the counter. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, watching you. “So soft, I’m going to have so much fun ruining you.” 

Tilting the knife up, Wally hooked it on the collar of your shirt and sliced it down the middle. A rush of cold air hit you as your shirt fell away from your body, leaving you in your bra and pants. 

Wasting no time, Wally did the same to your bra. His mouth salivated at the sight of your bare chest in front of him. He only got a few teases when he watched you change from your closet, but damn did he enjoy every second of it. 

Leaning forward, Wally ran his tongue up your chest and moaned at the taste. You shivered under his touch, the feeling of his wet tongue dragging across your body driving you crazy. His hands made their way down your body, quickly pulling your pants off as he tasted every bit of you he could. 

“So fucking sweet, like a fucking dessert or some shit,” he groaned, flicking your nipple with his tongue. 

You gasped at the sensation, your eyes meeting Dick’s above you as he just grinned. 

“You like that, sweetheart?” he hummed, kissing down your throat. “You like it when we play with your body like that?” 

Wally’s mouth was on your breast at this point, his tongue and teeth playing and pulling at the bud between his lips. Any response you had died on your tongue; only the sounds of your moans escaped. 

Dick grinned before he leaned closer and did the same. His hands were still holding yours down, but that didn’t stop you from writhing underneath them in pleasure. Tipping your head back, you could feel the heat between your legs igniting and getting stronger with each touch they left on your skin. 

“Fuck–” you whined, kicking your legs. 

You needed something, friction, their touch, anything that would give you what you needed. 

Wally pulled off with a grin, a string of spit connecting him to your chest as he glanced up at you. “Do you want my mouth somewhere else? Is that it?” 

“I–oh!” The words stopped, feeling Wally’s hand tease your folds through the fabric of your underwear. 

“What was that? I don’t think I heard you right,” he grinned. 

When you opened your mouth to answer him again, Wally stroked your folds more, earning a moan from you instead. “I don’t think she wants more Dickie. Should we stop here?” 

Dick pulled off, looking down at your body covered in spit and teeth marks from Wally’s exploration. “I don’t know Walls. I think she’s pretty satisfied, don't you think?” 

“No!” you cried, pulling against their hold again. “Fuck! I need it! Please!” 

Wally and Dick shared a look. Well, when you ask so nicely like that, who were they to deny you what you wanted? 

Picking the knife up again, Wally grinned, watching your eyes widen as he used a single finger to lift the side of your panties. “Better stay still, baby.” 

Watching his hand, you held your breath watching as Wally hooked it like he did your shirt. 

“Good girl,” he hummed, lifting the fabric more with the knife in his hand. “That’s right, keep nice and still for me.” 

With a harsh tug, the crotch of your underwear was sliced in half and fell open for both men to get a good view of your sopping cunt. 

Watching his hands intently, Wally moved the knife from between your legs and slowly traced it down your thigh. You shivered under the cool touch of the metal, trying to keep yourself still so you wouldn’t get nicked with the blade. 

With a grin, Wally crowded your space with his body. You could feel the heat radiating off him in waves, the eagerness evident in his expression as he looked over your bare form. Without warning, Wally raised the hand holding the knife and stabbed it into the counter beside your head, making you jump in Dick’s hold. 

“Look at her, she’s so jumpy Dickie.” he grinned, letting the knife clatter onto the counter. “We should play with her more.” 

Before you could respond, Wally stepped back and hooked your thighs over his shoulders. His hands cupped the back of your thighs, fingers digging into the flesh as he looked down at you. “Look at you, pussy so pretty I want to devour you.” 

Your eyes were entranced with Wally, his cocky smirk as his hands kept your thighs spread as he placed a kiss on the side of your knee. His eyes didn’t leave yours as he placed another higher up, biting the skin lightly this time. Moving up again, he gave you a devilish grin as he bit the skin. 

The feeling of his teeth had you jumping, gasping his name in surprise. The throbbing between your legs was pulsing now, ready to explode if he kept teasing you like this. Watching as he pulled back, you could see a mark where his teeth were. 

Without breaking eye contact, Wally continued to bite his way up your thigh, growling possessively as he did. Each bite was harder than the last, each one leaving a mark in its wake that had you writhing on the counter. 

“Fuck–” all thoughts left you when you felt Wally run his tongue through your folds, a slow, torturous pace that had you gasping for air. Tipping your head back, you closed your eyes, feeling his tongue explore your body. 

You were so occupied with what Wally was doing, you didn’t notice Dick shift your hands into one of his. It was only when you felt his hair tickle the side of your face that you noticed he had moved closer. 

“Does that feel good, baby?” He grinned, voice modulator gripped tightly in his hand. “Do you like the feeling of Wally’s tongue?” 

You couldn’t fight the shudder ripping through you, the sound of his voice sending delicious tingles all through your body. Wally’s tongue continued, motivated by the cute sounds you made.

The grip he had on your thighs tightened as his mouth continued its movements. “Oh, she really likes that,” Wally groaned, “Such a filthy whore, aren’t you, baby?”

Glancing up at you from between your thighs, Wally moved a hand and slipped two fingers inside you once more. The feeling had you convulsing on the counter, pulling against him and Dick’s hold on your body as you whimpered for more. 

“Fuck–” you hiccuped. “Wally, please–” 

“What do you want him to do, baby?” Dick teased, “Tell me what you want Wally to do.” 

Sparing a glance down at him, you felt the heat in your stomach burn hotter at the look Wally was giving you as he teased your opening. His eyes were wide and hungry, with his mouth already covered in some of your slick. His hair was a mess from your thighs as they rubbed against his head, trying to get more of his touch. 

He looked like a starved man who had just found the sweetest nectar on Earth. 

“Do you want him to spread your tight whole open, as he fucks you with his tongue?” 

Dick’s words rang through your ears, Wally’s eyes lighting up at the idea. The visual you were granted was enough for you to nod quickly, 

“Yes,” was the only word you were able to form, Wally doing exactly as Dick said. He circled your opening with his fingers before spreading them and inserting his tongue. You could feel the heat of his mouth on you as he began to eat you out, moaning at the taste of your essence. 

Feeling Dick’s hold on you finally released, you reached down to grip Wally’s hair tightly, pulling him closer as he continued. Moans and whines flowed from your lips, too busy focusing on what was happening between your thighs to notice what Dick was doing. 

“That’s it, baby, tell him how good it feels.” 

Opening your eyes to look up at him, you saw Dick still had the voice modulator in his hand. What he had in the other hand had your eyes widening. His phone was in his hand, camera aimed at you and Wally, more than likely capturing every second of what was happening. 

Wally moaned, flicking your clit with his tongue, pulling a wail from your lips. 

“Fucking hell, she tastes so fucking good,” he panted, pulling back just enough to look up at Dick and grin. Looking at the phone, Wally hummed. “She should hold it, get a much better angle of me, in my opinion.” 

Dick chuckled and looked down at you, skin hot and sweaty as your chest rose and fell in a series of pants as you tried to catch your breath. One hand was still tangled in Wally’s hair, the other grasping at the counter. 

“I think that’s a great idea,” 

Grabbing your hand, Dick placed the phone in your grip and adjusted it so it could capture the perfect angle of Wally. 

Not bothering to give you a warning, Wally dove back in. His tongue was relentless, groaning as he continued to bring you closer and closer to the edge. 

Watching Wally through the phone, it's picking up the debauched slurps from his mouth and your pathetic whines. You saw another hand come into frame. Dick’s hand rested on yours, making you fist Wally’s hair and forcing his face deeper into your cunt. 

“Such a good boy,” he hummed, enjoying the whine that slipped past Wally’s lips as he tightened his grip in his hair. “Make sure you pay extra attention to her clit,”

At his words, Wally moaned in response as he began to suck on your clit. The action had you seeing stars, no longer able to keep your eyes on him. His fingers slid deeper into you, abusing your walls with their touch as he kept his lips attached to your clit. 

“Fuck!” you cried, body shaking from the stimulation. 

You could feel it coming, the desire building until you could no longer hold it back. Feeling the wave of pleasure wash over you, your grip on his hair tightened, letting out a cry, and pulled harshly as Wally worked you through your orgasm. 

But Wally didn’t stop there, even with his mouth and chin already coated in your desire. 

He kept going, working harder before you let out a wail, and gushed all over his mouth once more. 

You felt his grip on your thighs loosen before he pulled back and looked right into the camera. “Think she got that Dick?” 

Dick grinned, looking down at you. “Oh, I know she did,” 

Trying to catch your breath, you watched as Wally rose to his full height and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Dick came around to your front and pulled you up off the counter and into a kiss. 

Feeling his lips on yours was nothing like it was before. What once used to be sweet kisses and soft touches was now replaced with hunger. Dick’s lips devoured yours, nipping and sucking on your lip as you whined into his mouth. 

His hands rested on your hips, pulling you closer towards him as yours found purchase on his shoulders. Heat radiated around you, the levels increasing, as you felt Wally’s body pressed up behind you. 

You felt his lips trace from your earlobe and nibble softly before moving to the crook of your neck. 

“Think she can handle us both, Dickie?” 

Wally glanced up at his best friend through his lashes, the mischievous glint ever present. Pulling away enough, Dick lifted your head by the chin to look at him. “Is that what you want, baby? To be stuffed with both our cocks?” 

Your eyes went wide at the idea, Wally’s hands running over your body as Dick’s moved to cup your ass. 

“You want to feel our cocks fucking your tight pussy together?” he hummed, leaning closer. 

Wally sank his teeth into the skin on your shoulder, making you moan softly. “Give him an answer, sweetheart, or we get to choose,” he grinned. 

“Yes!” you gasped. “Fuck, yes please!” 

Dick’s expression morphed into one of excitement and glee before he quickly rid himself of his shirt. You were now face-to-face with Dick’s bare chest, the taught muscle gleaming in the kitchen light. Wally’s hands left you for a moment, only to see his shirt go flying past Dick. 

Immediately, their lips were back on your body. Dick’s placed themselves on your throat as Wally laid claim to the other side. Tipping your head back, you ran your hands through their hair and pulled as they left their marks on you. 

It wasn’t long before both of them were naked, their pants and boxers tossed with everything else. Not wasting time, Dick and Wally pressed closer to you and moaned, feeling your body against theirs. 

Wally’s cock fit in the curve of your ass, as Dick’s pressed into your thigh. How were they going to do this? There was no bed, and you were sure none of you was going to leave the kitchen. 

“Fuck–” Dick moaned, “Get her on the floor,” 

Moving to the ground, Dick and Wally kneeled with you, forcing you to spread your legs for them. Dick’s hand found its way between your legs, groaning when he felt how wet you still are. 

“Look at you, still so fucking wet,” he chuckled, watching your face as he lightly touched you. “Did so good stretching you out for us,” 

Watching Dick’s face, you let out a gasp, feeling the tip of Wally’s cock tease your opening. 

“Oh–” 

“That’s right, baby,” Dick hummed. “Tell Wally how much you want his cock.” 

Moving your hips, you ground into his cock, making both of you moan softly at the sensation. Dick’s hand was still between your legs, stroking your folds, grinning at the sight of you and Wally in front of him. 

Using his other hand, he placed it on your hips and pushed you down onto his cock, the hand between your legs stroking Wally slowly as he entered you. 

“Oh, fuck–” Wally shuddered, his grip on you tightening. “Feels so fucking good,” he moaned. 

Dick grinned, using his knees to keep your legs spread open for them as he watched you ride Wally, taking him inch by inch with a creamy ring forming around his shaft. Using his hand on your hip, he guided you into Wally’s, forcing you to take him deeper. 

Your eyes widened, head lolling back, feeling him enter you fully. “Fuck!” 

“Fuck is right,t baby, and you’re doing so good at it.” 

Leaning into Dick, you whined, feeling Wally pick up the pace. Glancing down, you saw his hand had moved, and he was stroking himself as little beads leaked from the tip. 

“We’re going to fill you so full, baby, you won't even remember your name,” he grinned. 

Before you could say anything, you felt Wally slow as Dick pressed himself closer to you, slotting you further onto his lap as Wally moved with you. 

The head of Dick’s cock pressed against your opening, Wally moaning in your ear as his shaft rubbed against his. “Gonna fuck this greedy hole together,” he panted. 

When Dick’s cock entered you, your head fell forward in a silent moan. Wally kept a tight grip on you, keeping you upright and in position. You knew there were going to be bruises left on your body from their hands, but at the moment, you didn’t care. 

All you cared about at the moment was the feeling of Dick and Wally’s cock’s buried inside you. 

Dick let out a guttural moan, digging his nails into your skin at the feeling. 

“Oh, fuck–” he gasped, at a loss for words. “Feels even better than I thought.” 

If you thought it was intense before, it was nothing compared to when they both began to move their hips. The feeling of both of them inside you was sending bolts of electricity down your body as they abused your cunt, poking at that bundle of nerves inside you repeatedly. 

“Fuck!” you shrieked, trying to find something to hold onto. 

“That’s–fuck–that’s right, baby.” Dick moaned. “Scream for me,” 

“Scream like you want it,” Wally panted, nosing your hair away from your ear as he kissed the space behind it. 

You wanted it, and scream you did. Both Dick and Wally picked up the pace, their movements in synch with each other, pulling screams from your throat as they continued. Your body was nothing more than a plaything to them, being pressed between them as Dick tipped his head back, with sweat trickling down his throat. 

Leaning up, you licked the beads of sweat off, making him chuckle. 

“God, she really is as fucked up as we are, Walls.” 

“Told–” he stopped, letting out a deranged moan. “Told you so.” 

“She was so ready for me to fuck her in her room, it’s a shame she didn’t,” he panted, jutting his hips faster, pulling another cry from you and a moan from Dick in response. “Would’ve had her all on display, took my time before sending you the videos of me fucking your girl.” 

Wally whined at the image in his head; it motivating him to move faster with a shout. 

That familiar feeling was back, but this time it was approaching, and it was approaching fast. 

“Fuck! Dick–Wally!” you cried. “Wait–” 

“You gonna cum, baby?” Dick teased, his voice breathless from the pleasure. “You gonna coat our cocks with it?” 

All you could do now was nod, voice lost to the intense pleasure you were feeling. 

“Dick–” Wally whined, “‘M close too–” 

“Go ahead, baby,” Dick encouraged, his voice strained from holding himself back. 

It only took a few more thrusts before you came, screaming their names and gushing all over their cocks. Digging your nails into Dick’s shoulder, you tried to keep yourself upright from the intense waves of pleasure as they coursed over you, one by one, until you collapsed and were spent between their bodies. 

Dick and Wally weren’t too far behind, both of them still thrusting until Wally came next, his hot seed filling you and spilling out around his and Dick’s shafts. His breath was hot against your back, nipping at the skin at the top of your spine as he kept himself buried deep inside you. 

Throwing his head back, Dick moaned as he finished, his cum mixing with yours and Wally’s as it overflowed your pussy and leaked out of you and onto his lap. Panting heavily, he held you close before slowly pulling out of you, and Wally following after. 

You whimpered at the loss of contact and the feeling of being empty. Dick held you up as he stroked your hair, and Wally pressed into your back still. 

“So good for us,” he hummed. 

“Maybe it’s a good thing we didn’t kill her.” 

At Wally’s words, your eyes shot open. Because of everything that happened, you had completely forgotten that they were killers right out of a slasher film. And you had just fucked them both on the kitchen floor. 

Glancing around, you saw the knife not too far away. The gun was too far out of reach for you to even try and grab it. 

“Granted, she could always join us.”

Dick looked at you, Wally’s words igniting an idea in his head. 

“If you join us, baby, not only will we not have to kill you, but we can fuck like this every night.” 

Looking up at him, you didn’t recognize him. This was a completely different Dick Grayson than you knew, and you weren’t sure you were going to like it. 

Wally hummed, moving his hands to hold your breasts again. “Join us, and we can murder and have all the fucked up sex we want.” 

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you knew what you had to do. Regardless of what you had just done, you knew what was right. Glancing towards the window, you could hear the distant police sirens coming towards the house. You had to do something to stall for time, and you had to do it now. 

Without giving them an answer, you dove for the knife.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The house was silent, flashing lights bouncing off the outside as the police arrived. Kori jumped out of the back of a cruiser, desperate to see which of her friends made it. The second she knew something was wrong, she took off down the street to the closest neighbor to try and call for help. 

Luckily for her, Wally’s elderly neighbors let her use their landline because her cell had no reception. It felt like hours before the authorities arrived and picked her up before going back down the long path, towards Wally’s house. 

She had no idea what became of her friends, praying and hoping that nothing bad happened. 

Watching from the side, she watched the police enter the facility, and immediately, bodies started rushing in. Kori wanted to be in there; she wanted to know what was going on, but when they pulled a body out on a stretcher, she ran over. 

Pushing through bodies, Kori ran up and saw that Roy was alive and breathing with a gunshot wound to his chest and a gash on his head. 

“Roy?” 

Quickly, he sat up, hearing her voice, hissing in pain. “Kori? I thought you were dead!” 

Walking next to him, she shook her head. “No, I managed to get out and got help. Where is everyone else?” 

Roy stopped. What was he supposed to tell her? That Donna was dead? You probably were, too, because it was Dick and Wally who were the ones running around killing people. He had no idea what became of the three of you, only coming too when the police and paramedics came rushing in. 

Looking back at the house, Kori watched as the police flooded in. 

Sheriff Harvey was at the front, his gun at the ready just in case. His men had cased the rest of the downstairs, taking note of all the evidence they could find. He had heard on his radio that they did indeed find a dead body, a young woman with long dark hair crushed into the garage door. 

Shaking his head, he couldn’t think about that. There were still missing people, and he had to find them. 

Walking into the kitchen, the sight he was greeted with was horrendous. The kitchen floor was covered in blood, fresh puddles of it as it seeped through the cracks and grout, staining the floor red. Looking around, he saw a knife and gun discarded, covered in bloody handprints, along with ripped and shredded clothing. 

Stepping around the corner, he saw a body lying face down on the floor. Letting out a sigh, he leaned down and felt for a pulse. 

Nothing. 

A sigh left him as he looked beside the body, and lying next to it was a phone that was paused on a video. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a glove and hit play. 

“Fucking hell, she tastes so fucking good,” he panted, pulling back just enough to look up at Dick and grin. Looking at the phone, Wally hummed. “She should hold it, get a much better angle of me, in my opinion.” 

Dick chuckled and looked down at you, skin hot and sweaty as your chest rose and fell in a series of pants as you tried to catch your breath. One hand was still tangled in Wally’s hair, the other grasping at the counter. 

“I think that’s a great idea,” 

Grabbing your hand, Dick placed the phone in your grip and adjusted it so it could capture the perfect angle of Wally. 

Not bothering to give you a warning, Wally dove back in. His tongue was relentless, groaning as he continued to bring you closer and closer to the edge. 

Watching Wally through the phone, it's picking up the debauched slurps from his mouth and your pathetic whines. You saw another hand come into frame. Dick’s hand rested on yours, making you fist Wally’s hair and forcing his face deeper into your cunt. 

“Such a good boy,” he hummed, enjoying the whine that slipped past Wally’s lips as he tightened his grip in his hair. “Make sure you pay extra attention to her clit,”

Looking around, this proved there were two other people. Looking ahead, he saw two sets of bloody footprints, both looking to be in a rush as they led out of the kitchen. Getting to his feet, he gently set the phone down and followed the tracks. 

They led him out of the kitchen and to the back door that was left open and swinging in the night air. With another dead body and two people missing, this was going to be a long night. 

Tags: @batarella @littleredwing89 @candid-confetti @rikusqueenofhearts @sweetf4iryreads @novahaitani @percyforever1022 @moonysleftthumb @so-you-like-kpop @turdup9 @roxansposts @lonelyberry4 @schlattsleftnut @reinerspersona @famoushoshi @licornie @starlightblvvd @snowyzayne @bokchoki @dontyouthinkitstrange @arpegiiz @lunamooo @yuumeglorpglorp @moonhxxn @crazychaoticizzy @ghilan-maim @pinksthetics @history-be-written @loafingdragon

[batarella]

THE TITLE ALONE MADE ME SCREAM THANK U FOR THIS GIFT U BEAUTIFUL PERSON. I AM SAT AND READY

[batarella]

I Don't Hate You - Remastered - Chapter 5 (Jason Todd x Reader Series)

You're the meanest girl in school. Everyone is terrified of you. But when you're sentenced to ten weeks of detention at the school's library with another brooding troublemaker, Jason Todd, you find out there is, in fact, at least one guy on earth who isn't afraid of you.

And you hate that.

IDHY REMASTERED EDITION: GENERAL REVISIONS, NEW DIALOGUE, BONUS CONTENT, AND EXTENDED SCENES.

A/N: Okay. This is one of the chapters I was so excited to visit again. It's a whopping 5000 words more than the original, with lots of new scenes and almost a complete rewrite before the lead up to the piano scene. (More of my notes at the end!)

WORDS: 11,000 WARNINGS: MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE, SMOKING, MENTIONS OF DEATH, A HAUNTED HOUSE WITH IMPLIED SPIRITS/GHOSTS

MASTERLIST

----

You were so pissed at him.

And rightfully so.

This whole tragedy began with his inability to get through five minutes without checking his phone for your name in a bubble.

It was in chemistry class. He didn’t have to pay attention. Bruce taught him about the subject more than Jerry ever could.

Jason: ‘don’t do it.’

There wasn’t a single good reason Jason’s eyes would be darting down to his crotch and his hand stuck under the desk. But out of courtesy, he pretended Jerry had half his attention by pulling out a notebook and taking notes with his free hand. It was getting harder to get away with it, with Jason suddenly giggling under his breath and staring at his lap in the middle of an hour-long lecture. He looked like an idiot.

Y/N: ‘I’ll fucking do it.’

Jason: ‘she’ss a teaachr.’

Y/N: ‘that hasn’t stopped me before.’

He nodded at Jerry once every few moments, then his thumb would blindly type unreadable typos. How were you able to text so well in class?

You sent another text before he could respond.

Y/N: ‘I’m totally doing it.’

Jason: ‘I’m sure she wasd looookin behind yuu’

Y/N:   ‘no. she was definitely looking at me. she was talking about baby murderers.’

Jason: ‘oh.’

He couldn’t stop laughing,

Jason: ‘Id keep saying itt wasn’t youuu buttt im prbablyy b rong.’

Y/N: ‘im not a fucking serial killer.’

Three dots floated in a bubble.

Y/N: ‘yet.’

Jason kept his eyes on the board.

Y/N: ‘it’s just her divorce.’

Jason: ‘you have got to stop asking facultyyyt memberd how their divorce is going.’

Y/N: ‘why not’

Jerry was onto him, but the man’s bags under his eyes screamed: ‘I really don’t give a fuck about any of you.’ Jason would still end up with the highest test score no matter what he was doing.

Jason: ‘youre wors thannn a serial killer.’

Y/N: ‘I don’t kill babies. I just scare them.’

Jason: ‘that’s the ffrst steppp right there.’

You flipped him off through the screen, and Jason was once again smiling at his crotch.

Y/N: ‘Help me with my literature paper.’

Jason: ‘sure. how’s it goinggg?’

Y/N: ‘I’m almost done. But I had it printed out so you can take a look at it.’

Jason looked up, letting his eyes lock onto the board for a few minutes just to let his grin wear off. He looked equally stupid smiling at the scribbles on balancing equations than at his lap.

Jason: ‘i’ll help you. Wait fooor me at the lbrary after classs. i’ll be ther. I can take yoooo home”

Y/N: ‘are you sure? Dad isn’t home tonight so I can ask my mom to come pick me up early.’

Jason: ‘dont worrry about it. i don’t mind the detour ☺️’

Y/N: ‘if you say so’

The bell rang.

He should’ve just headed out like he said.

“Texting in class now, Todd?”

But he didn’t.

The football linebacker with a bandage on his nose and a blinding neon varsity jacket on his thick frame blocked the doorway. He wasn’t even taller than Jason, but the asshole poked him by the shoulder as if he liked getting nose jobs every week.

“Street kid thinks he’s that smart.”

“I’m smarter than you, dumbass. But so is everyone else.”

“How’d your GPA like it if I tell on you?”

He snorted. “Snitch on me and fuck off.”

“Who you texting?” He leaned in to his face. “That psycho bitch you hang out with all the time?”

Maybe he was no different than these football jerks.

Every time, Brandon was all talk. Never threw the first punch. Never lunged at him. Never shoved him. This asshole was all mouth. And he knew exactly how to use it.

And that made Jason the instigator of violence. He could only wish he spoke more out of his mouth than his fist.

No one saw how quickly Jason slammed Brandon against the doorway, squeezing his neck with his thick arm until Brandon’s feet were hovering off the floor.

Jason didn’t even realize he was lifting his whole body until Brandon’s face turned blue and he instinctively flinched away from Jason’s hovering fist.

“Want a new nose again, jackass?”

“ALRIGHT. ENOUGH. STEP AWAY FROM HIS NOSE.”

Poor Jerry pulled at his elbow until he dropped the guy. Brandon fell on his hands, gasping through his bruised throat. Jason knew firsthand how breathing after that was like swallowing a knife.

It was so easy for the fire to start—the rainy nights of Gotham, ever-present in his skull. How quickly he had to move, jump out of danger, or shove a fist down the enemy’s face when the streets called for his instinct—that darkness never goes away.

Jason couldn’t hear a thing when they dragged him to Watson’s office. He couldn’t see the walls, couldn’t hear the beeping printers, the doors swinging open or the voices that called his name. What you said was true—they wouldn’t suspend the kid with the highest GPA.

They didn’t know what to do with him at all.

Watson was talking. All Jason could look at were his shoes. Then the phone rang. He barely heard that, too. What he could hear, however, was a deep voice muttering on the other line.

That meant no punishment for him here. Just at home.

“Your father is coming to pick you up.”

They wouldn’t let him out of that room until Bruce Wayne himself was at the driveway.

What was he expecting, then, taking in a kid who stole his tires? That he’d be as perfect as his first son, who grew up with parents he had the privilege to love and mourn? Jason never had that. Of course, he wasn’t going to be Dick.

But Bruce didn’t say that. He never said that to his face.

Bruce said nothing at all on the way home. It wasn’t dark yet when they reached the manor, but Bruce headed straight to gearing up at the cave.

“I’ll go on patrol.”

“No, you won’t.”

He dragged Jason to the seat at the batcomputer, where he’d probably be stuck sulking for the night.

“I thought things were getting better for you.”

“They are.”

But Jason sank into his seat, arms tight around his chest as if to conceal something just waiting to come out.

It might never get better.

He knew exactly what Bruce wanted to say. You have everything now. You have a home, a bed to sleep in. Take care of that.

But he wouldn’t ask him why he was still so angry. Bruce wouldn’t know the answer to that question, either.

“Why am I the bad guy in all this?”

Bruce was his father, and he looked at Jason like he always had been since he was born. That was his face right then—staring at him like he raised him to be better.

“Brandon talks so much shit. I react, then he’s the victim.”

“This isn’t just about your behavior in school, Jason.”

So that was it.

Bruce knew that the dark, twisted tempest was present, looming over Jason’s head. He couldn’t let Jason go on patrol knowing that black cloud could potentially end in street-level robbers crippled for the rest of their lives.

“I’m not letting my problems at school affect my work at patrol.”

“Son, it’s the other way around.”

Bruce put the cowl over his head.

“The other night, you took a pipe out of an exhaust and beat the enemy while he was already down—”

“He killed dozens of people!”

“And your anger shouldn’t be the one serving justice. Robin should.”

One day, he might understand.

Bruce left the cave without another word. The whole night, Jason stared at the screens, at all the cameras in the city watching Batman giving him a demonstration on the correct way to serve justice.

Whatever that is.

---

He’d learn, eventually, how to take care of himself, take care of this life, this new, brighter sun over that night that will never leave.

Jason wanted to be cold, so he walked out of that cafeteria and chose one of the empty outdoor tables in the yard. Leaves were everywhere, but he didn’t care. He just needed it to be quiet. But he couldn’t even have that, with half the school having the same idea on a chilly autumn day.

Jason stared at his feet when he walked, one hand holding his tray and the other deep in his pocket. He tried not to look up. He wasn’t in the mood to catch any gossiping eyes.

Not that he gave a fuck about the gossip.

But, even as he tried, Jason’s eyes inevitably did look up when they saw you.

You sat on top of the concrete fence that surrounded the outdoor tables. Your back was against a pillar, leg swinging over the edge. You had your earphones on with a book in your hands.

Jason’s feet stopped. So did his chest. The wind stung his skin, but he couldn’t tell if it pained or grounded him.

Your black sweater fell over your shoulder. Your dark tights, ripped at the knees, should’ve made you shiver from the chill. But you were used to it. You loved those tights and wore them no matter the weather. Your hair, unkept, fell delicately over your cheeks, perfectly as to not disrupt his view of your face, but enough to keep your own shadows to yourself.

And you were reading Poe. Even with you probably wanting to kill Jason on sight, you were reading the book he gave you.

Jason stood there staring at you for so long, the wind had to push him to his seat. But he could let his shitty food go cold. No amount of breeze could push his gaze away from you.

You were so pissed at him.

His phone died sometime after they sent him to the office, then he completely forgot to check it until the next morning. He woke up to fifteen messages from you until an abrupt stop at nine pm. Your last message was a photo of your hands in an obscenely graphic gesture.

He responded about twenty times that morning. He got nothing from you.

Somehow, that slight panic from this morning had settled back into a gentle haze in his chest. Your eyebrows were bunched all the way to the center of your face. You looked like you would slap a leaf if it landed on you the wrong way.

Jason: ‘Hi.’

He swallowed his lunch, then leaned against a nearby corner of a wall where he was close enough to see the look on your face, but far enough where you couldn’t notice him. He stuck his one clammy hand into the pocket of his leather jacket, hoping it was both warm and cool enough to keep him level-headed.

You pulled out your phone, saw his text, then rolled your eyes before falling back to your book.

Jason: ‘r u still mad at me?’

There wasn’t a single other person on earth he’d act this way for.

You pulled out your phone again. Staring at it longer. If he wasn’t watching you then, he’d think you didn’t bother to look at his messages. But you did. You couldn’t even go a few seconds without reaching for your phone, seeing if he texted.

Jason: ‘I’m sorry I blew you off   something came up’

You kept your phone where you could see it, glancing at it while trying to keep your focus on your book.

Jason: ‘I’ll make it up to you.’

You stuck your chin to your knees, staring at your screen. For the first time since yesterday, everything was quiet. The autumn day was beautiful, even when it nipped at his skin.

Jason: ‘Cmon, I know you’re seeing this.’

You didn’t even have to respond. Just seeing you was enough. Even if you were mad at him.

That day in school, he heard the whispers again. Though not as loud as the first fight, he could hear them, still.

He really couldn’t give a fuck about the other kids.

But he did give a fuck about you.

You probably had no idea what happened, though. And he’ll keep it that way.

Maybe he should stop acting like the thug they all thought he was and be the Jane Austen-reading nerd you made fun of him for.

You drew a piece of your hair behind your ear, taking your phone. Your fingers started to tap, but stopped. You stuck your lips on the top edge of your book, tapping your finger on your knee.

He couldn’t for the life of him tear his eyes away from you.

Jason: ‘you can’t ignore me forever.’

He couldn’t tell if you smiled. Your lips were against your knee.

Jason: ‘remember you’re stuck with me another five weeks’

You rolled your eyes again. Maybe he could take this further.

Jason: ‘what are you reading?’

Your glared at your screen and glanced behind you, seeing nothing but an empty yard, then settled back against the pillar.

A sudden gust of wind finally got you to shiver.

So you took out a leather jacket—his leather jacket—from your backpack, then draped it over your shoulders.

Jason’s heartbeats that had slowed had come to a full stop. There was nothing, not even the wind, that could shake him.

Jason: ‘I’ll shelf your books for you today if you text back ’

He saw the subtle curve up the corner of your lip.

You, who hated everything that moved, apparently didn’t hate him enough to ignore him all day.

Y/N: ‘make that a week.’

Then he was smiling off his teeth. That piece in his chest that hid in a cave all night was now trying to leap out of his ribcage, frantic to beat itself out.

Jason: ‘three days :P’

Y/N: ‘fine.’

Y/N: ‘but you still have to help me with my paper’

Jason: ‘of course I will.’

His fingers were sliding off the screen at how clammy his palms had gotten.

Jason: ‘I can help you right now.’

Y/N: ‘lunch period’s about to end.’

Jason: ‘then you better get inside. It’s getting cold out.’

You looked at your screen, then behind your back.

Y/N: ‘where are you?’

Jason: ‘outside. I’m watching over a pretty girl sitting on the fence in case she falls over and bruises herself again.’

Your face dropped.

You looked everywhere around you.

Maybe he shouldn’t have texted that.

He shouldn’t have, not if he didn’t want his heart to throb so much that it ends up hurting him.

But he wanted it to hurt. He wanted to feel everything. God, he wasn’t sure he liked where this was all spiralling into. But he was getting there. He was so close, he didn’t even want to see where it landed him.

Your face buried itself into your knee, as if to calm your own crazed nerves.

The smile Jason earned from you was a reward.

You stuck your face into your palm, breathing in. But that smile didn’t leave, not when you tugged lightly at your hair, not when you bit your lips.

These risky texts had ten times the risk when it came to you.

But, fuck, was it worth it. You grinned so much at your phone screen, no one on earth had seen you smile over a text that much in your life. But you knew he was watching. You knew he could see you smile, and you still did.

Jason: ‘nice jacket’

He hid behind the corner so you wouldn’t see him.

But Jason wished he’d risked you catching him and possibly throwing a book at his face, because right then, when he wasn’t watching you, his phone buzzed.

Y/N: ‘stop following me, weirdo :P’

There was that glimpse of the sun, shining through the gaps where the night couldn’t reach. He smiled until it hurt, then peered back around the corner.

You were waiting for a response, setting the book aside and staring at the screen with your thumbs unmoving.

Jason: ‘see you after class ’

He waited in that corner until the bell rang. You didn’t get off that fence to find him.

Maybe because you knew that if you left, Jason wouldn’t be able to watch you.

---

The amusement he got from seeing you all pissy was going to be the death of him.

Two carts were waiting for you both by Ms. Peterson’s desk, but you touched none of them until Jason arrived. Tail between his legs, he caught your eyes and approached you holding the handlebar with one hand and your other hand on your hip.

But even when you tried to let him know how pissed you still were, he failed miserably trying not to snicker through his bit lips.

“You think this is funny?”

“A little bit.”

You slapped his hand away from reaching for the handlebars.

“I push the cart. You shelf them. One week.”

“Three days.”

“Whatever.”

He winked at you as you pushed on the first cart, leading you both into the shelves.

It really wasn’t that funny reading your texts that morning. You waited for him until 5:30 yesterday. And if only he hadn’t promised to take you home, you would’ve asked your mom to come pick you up, which was too late at that time, so you had to walk when it was close to dark.

He put the first book into the shelf, but his feet found themselves heading closer to you behind the cart. You backed up against the wall, glaring up at him through your lashes.

His whisper came out a lot softer than he intended. “Sorry…”

You lost that grit in your teeth, your soft lips pursing as you never left his eyes.

He smiled and reached for your arm, tugging on your sweater and scratching your elbow like you had an itch. You pushed him away, but not without you finally giving him that smirk he wanted to tease out of you.

“Don’t ever leave me alone in this hellhole ever again.”

His eyes trailed down your face.

“You missed me that much?”

He caught you glancing down his lips—just for half a second that he’d miss it if he wasn’t trained by a detective. Your hand pushed his chest, and you shoved him back to the front of the cart.

“Get to shelving, nerd.”

“Alright, alright.” He watched you with his bottom lip between his teeth.

“What happened to you last night anyway?”

You didn’t have to know.

Or, more likely, he didn’t want that segment of his life to disrupt this sweet escape. He just wanted to talk to you, talk about you. He wanted to annoy you so much that you’d hiss, while you try to keep that beautiful laughter from bursting out of your lips.

“Something came up with Bruce,” he said. “He picked me up right after last period. My phone died the whole night.”

He didn’t have any fresh bruises on his body that would’ve made you think otherwise, but he caught you trying to find the lies in the quirks of his face. Thankfully, you caught none of them. You sighed and handed him a book.

“What about you?”

You looked like you wanted to murder him again. “Shelved a record one hundred fifty-nine books alone in two hours. No thanks to you.”

“And you shelved them right.” He stood back, looking around at the shelves. “See. You don’t actually need me.”

You shoved a book hard against his chest, and he laughed, almost stumbling off his feet.

“Were you okay walking home last night?”

You shrugged. “I’m fine.”

“Did anyone punch you?”

“No.”

“Did you punch anyone?”

“I’m about to.”

Jason was in front of you before you could push the cart hard into his shins. And with your back meeting the shelves, you couldn’t step away. And his eyes were directly on yours. Watching them. Observing them. For a hot minute, he wouldn’t let you move.

“Why won’t you just say you missed me?”

“Because I hate you.”

You looked like you wanted to both run and stay put even if it caused you to collapse, because Jason, Emerging Detective, caught exactly what he was looking for in your eyes.

 “I don’t think you do.”

You snorted. “And why not?”

He bit his lip as he said, “Because your eyes dilate when you look at me.”

Jason realized what he liked to see more than you being pissy or laughing. And that was making you blush so hard he could see the retorts trying to escape your throat and fail.

You couldn’t, with how hard you swallowed, your cheeks immediately burned, and your eyes desperately trying to escape his captivity.

“I’m messing with you.” He tapped a book on your nose.

“Get back to work, Todd.”

“You sound like Ms. P.”

He spared you more embarrassment. You looked like you wanted to bury your face into one of the dusty shelves. So Jason did as told, pretending his hands weren’t fidgeting, or that he didn’t want to leap out the window himself.

After half an hour of shelving, you left to grab something from your backpack and came back with three pages of your printed essay.

That warmth in Jason’s chest, bubbling up to his throat, was no fire that needed to be contained. It did not burn or scorch his lungs when he breathed. It was a gentle, brewing warmth, heating him all the way up to his face. It was there when you handed him your paper.

“You don’t… have to rewrite it or make any corrections,” you gulped. “Just wanted to know what you thought.”

You could barely look up past your feet.

Jason, too, looked like he wanted to implode.

“No problem,” he said. “I’d love to.”

“You can’t do it now. Not with that watching us like a vulture.”

Your thumb pointed at the woman behind the desk, peering at you both above her monitor with eyes darker than a wildcat about to pounce.

“I’ll take a look at it when I get home.”

Jason caught you about to give him that smile. You moved on to the next cart full of books about an hour into the job.

“What were you reading?” he said. “Back in lunch period?”

You looked away, and he knew it was so he wouldn’t see your blush again.

“The Fall of the House of Usher.”

Your fingers toyed with the hem of your sweater, so he pretended to be occupied with the books to shelve so you wouldn’t see him taking notice of your fidgeting.

“I like that one, too.”

“You’ve read it?”

“I’ve read all his stories.”

Twice actually. Once, when he first moved into the manor and found a collection of Poe’s stories in the library, and a second time four weeks ago, right after he gave you the book to read yourself.

But he didn’t tell you that.

“You like stories about haunted houses?” he asked.

“I like haunted houses. Or any place that’s falling apart and rotting.”

“You’re not afraid of ghosts?”

“I’d like to be one when I die. Then you’d never be able to escape me.”

“Not if I die and haunt you first,” Jason said.

He pinched your cheek, and you almost bit off his finger.

“Your Wayne mansion—”

“Wayne Manor.”

“Right,” you said. “Is it anything like the Usher house?”

“It’s not abandoned, and the weeds haven’t completely swallowed the ground floor, if that’s what you’re asking. Nothing’s destroyed or cracked, and the aged look is done on purpose. We have a butler who does the gardening.”

“Of course, you do.”

“But do you feel trapped when you walk in, and you feel like the walls are about to close in on you even with the place more massive than ten football fields?” he laughed. “Could be.”

“Poetic,” you said.

“That’s what the Usher house was supposed to feel like,” Jason said. “Not only does the place feel like a crooked nightmare, but the house reflects the family.”

“I think it’s kind of cool the girl rises from the dead and breaks out of her tomb just to kill her brother,” you said.

“Did she rise from the dead?”

“Right. Because it was supposed to be imagery for something else?”

Jason flipped through an old book and let the smell of the pages fill his nose.

“Some people say she didn’t even exist.”

“I think she did.”

“I got a question for you,” he said, standing close enough to you that the tips of your shoes would touch. “What do you think caused the fall of the Usher house?”

He watched you think.

“Is this English class?”

“You asked for help. I’m helping you.”

“Okay,” you swallowed. “The house, or the family, traps anyone who comes in, and no one could escape it, not even the Ushers themselves. The house being dark and sickening was the Usher family being dark and sickening. It literally had to fall just for the narrator to come out.”

“What else?

“The twins had no separate identity outside of each other, probably because of that. Roderick either tried to kill his sister just so he would continue the Usher line, or because even though his sister was the worst parts of him and everything he wasn’t. He ultimately wanted her gone, so the house fell. Also, the family kept itself alive through a single line of descent, implying that they kept it within the family. Incest makes the crazies.”

Every word out of you pulled his lips further up his cheeks, until you were staring at him, surprised at yourself, and you stepped back.

“And that’s exactly what you’re supposed to write in your paper.”

He pinched your cheek again, and you shoved him away just before he shelved the last book for the day. He let the quietness simmer until you both headed out the door.

“I can take you home today. But we have to leave now. Bruce wants me to go on this thing.”

That thing being a visit to Bludhaven to see Nightwing.

You pulled on your sweater. “It’s okay. Dad’s back and he’s usually awake at this time. He won't be asleep until like, an hour from now. I’ll walk. You go ahead.”

You stopped walking close to the coffee machine with a large printed sign that said OUT OF ORDER taped on top.

“God fucking dammit, when’s this thing gonna work?”

The moment the machine broke, you drove out twice the number of kids from the library for so much as whispering three decibels more than what you allowed. Jason didn’t even know you could get even crabbier, if it was possible. Turned out caffeine held your one hand in restraints before you’d break out and possibly injure half the population.

“You’ll be okay?”

You nodded, eyes on him. “Thank you.”

Jason tapped your elbow. “Text me when you get home safe.”

He could have sworn he caught you flush pink again. But he walked away before he could see your face.

Bruce: ‘You coming tonight?’

He leaves for Bludhaven by six. He told Jason to either come home early if he wanted to go with him, and that if he had anything to do at school, he should just stay behind.

Bruce either meant that they were short on travel time he didn’t want to waste. Or, more likely, he wanted the boy to have a life outside of patrol. The good kind. Not the constant punishments, but more like the company he gained out of it.

But Jason thought he needed an outlet and wanted to imagine Brandon’s face on the heads of Bludhaven thugs.

Jason walked out the exit and reached for his keys.

Except he totally forgot he wasn’t even wearing his bag until he’d walked to his motorcycle.

Groaning as he walked back into the school’s entrance, he sprinted for the library, catching the door open just as Ms. Peterson was about to walk out. The old woman stared at him like blood was about to come out of her eye sockets.

Jason ran for his bag, then gave Ms. P a fun little hug before walking back out. He then sped past the lockers and the empty classrooms, hearing nothing but the skid from his shoes.

He heard piano keys.

Piano keys?

And singing.

A voice he’s only heard so often, yet could pick out from a thundering million.

Jason had never been to the music room, but the sound came from there. The door wasn’t closed, and slowly, he peeked in.

Your back was to him, and you sat comfortably in front of the piano with a single light beam on you like a spotlight. Your lean fingers rested gracefully on the keys, playing the chords in perfectly strewn out notes. From an angle slightly to the left, you couldn’t see him, but he could see a bit of your face, the side of it, how your eyelids looked down at your fingers.

“I've seen the world, done it all

Had my cake now

Diamonds, brilliant, in Bel-Air now

Hot summer nights, mid July

When you and I were forever wild

The crazy days, city lights

The way you'd play with me like a child

Will you still love me

When I'm no longer young and beautiful?

Will you still love me

When I've got nothing but my aching soul?

I know you will, I know you will

I know that you will

Will you still love me when I'm no longer beautiful?”

You…

You…

Yeah.

You were beautiful.

“Will you still love me

When I'm no longer young and beautiful?”

His legs were phantoms he could no longer feel.

Jason was floating, seeing you like an omniscient being who was never supposed to witness this.

And there was nothing, not ever, not in the entire length of his existence, not from his time at the streets, from his few years as Robin, from his days living on either the cold concrete of a sidewalk or at the manor, not from all the people he’s met, or from any song that he’s ever heard—

Nothing. Nothing compared to your voice. Nothing compared to you.

“Hot summer days, rock and roll

The way you play for me at your show

And all the ways, I got to know

Your pretty face and electric soul”

You sounded even more perfect than he remembered.

Jason’s bag had long fallen off his shoulder. None of his limbs worked at all. Even when you played the wrong note, cursed, then went on just as perfectly as you ever could, the mistakes sounded like they were meant to be done, like how it was supposed to be done.

He could feel his heart thundering out of his ears, his face flushed to a fire, and his chest bursting out of chained anvils.

Even then, he couldn’t look away.

You reached the higher notes with a perfect falsetto, softer than anything he’s ever heard out of you. Your voice echoed out even in the room as small as a stuffy classroom.

Was he still breathing? Probably not. But he hadn’t passed out just yet.

The weight of your voice fell at the deep ends, and you were often whispering the words, but then your voice would go up in a perfect blend.

Shit, his chest was heaving. He had to leave before the song ended.

Just when you paused, he finally had it in him to look away and throw himself back against a wall.

Breathe. Fucking breathe.

“Will you still love me when I'm no longer beautiful?

Will you still love me when I'm no longer beautiful?

Will you still love me when I'm not young and beautiful?”

The last note escaped from your lips like a single breath, heading straight for his chest, his head, until Jason shut his eyes just to keep them trembling.

He smiled like the biggest fucking moron for the hundredth time that day.

Jason’s head stuck against the wall, eyes to the ceiling, letting the buzz get to him while he heard you hum vocal runs and pressing random keys on the piano.

Was he about to fall to the floor? Possibly. He felt like falling anyway, even with him upright and standing.

Fuck.

It wasn’t even your voice anymore.

It was you. It came from you. You.

You had so much beauty you thought you could conceal. You thought you could hide this away from the world and take away the privilege of witnessing everything that was you.

Jason had to catch his fucking breath before he plummeted to the floor. He was smiling at the ceiling, at the walls, at the ground, then back again at the wall. The light was warm against him, so much so that it finally drove out that dark cloud that rained over every dawn of light. He rubbed his chin to ease his aching muscles.

Finally being able to look straight without fainting, he looked back into the room.

You were staring back at him.

---

You hated everything.

Some days, it was all you did: hate everything and think about how much you hated everything.

It might have been exhausting, but it was even more exhausting hearing people try to teach you how to be a better person. Because apparently, hating everything will make everything hate you back.

But maybe you didn’t hate everything.

And maybe not everything hated you back.

Because if Jason could look at you the way he did right then…

Maybe you weren’t so bad after all.

Idiot must’ve thought you wouldn’t hear him hit his head with the wall.

His lips were parted, his chest was visibly heaving, and his cheeks were so flushed, they’d pop at a touch.

You stood up from the piano, grabbing your bag, and walked over to stand in front of him backed up against the wall. His throat comically gulped down his neck.

Five weeks with him, and Jason Todd finally looked like he was scared shitless of you.

But you didn’t want him to be scared of you. Not anymore.

“Did you hear all of that?”

The boy was a mess. He swallowed another three times, then his eyes were all over the walls around you, but never on you.

“I-I’m uh,” he mumbled. “Sorry.”

You shook your head. “Don’t be.”

He didn’t look like he had another answer. Jason scratched the back of his head. “Uhm-“

“Come on. We better leave.”

You walked away first, and Jason waddled to your side, head still stuck to his chest in an attempt for you to miss how beet-red his cheeks were. Even you were better at hiding your own embarrassment earlier when he was watching you.

“You gonna take me home?”

He managed to form a sentence. “I thought you wanted to stay longer.”

You shrugged. “I guess I can take it.”

You reached Jason’s bike in the driveway, and you caught him watching you put on his jacket before taking his second helmet.

Whatever this boy was trying to do, you weren’t sure you liked how it was tugging at your chest so much; both lightness and a weight so heavy settled themselves within. Every word out of you came with this vehemence between your eyes—that part of you that chose each word meticulously. Because some time along the way, you started to care about what came out of your big mouth. But only when it came to him.

This never happened before.

You should be terrified. But here you were, clutching onto his waist as he sped down the empty road.

You felt him tense until you leaned your head against his back, and his shoulders slightly fell. Your arms were tighter around him, eyes drifting to a close.

You don’t even remember the last time you held someone.

After a long while, you still couldn’t smell smoke emissions from cars or hear the yelling from the crazies near your apartment. Looking up then around you with the sun still shining brightly even at this time of day, you were in the countryside—away from the city.

“WHERE ARE WE GOING?”

“YOU’LL SEE.”

You could smell cow dung and the earthy scent of grass that stretched for miles around you. The road ahead was wide and unending, and the air was so much lighter, you didn’t have to force yourself to inhale so much smoke. You closed your eyes, this time feeling the wind against your skin.

You held onto Jason’s waist tighter. “I THOUGHT YOU HAD SOMEWHERE TO GO TONIGHT.”

“I TEXTED BRUCE. I’M NOT GOING WITH HIM. JUST TRUST ME.”

You did. You trusted him. Wherever it was he was taking you, you already knew there wasn’t anywhere else you’d rather be.

You reached a forest, and your chin settled on his shoulder. You weren’t sure you told yourself to do that, or if your body was making its own commands.

Jason started to slow down when you reached deeper into the trees, finally stopping his bike by a tree. The air was cold, and you wrapped Jason’s jacket tighter around your body after you had removed your helmet. “Where are we?”

“Come on.”

He took your hand.

Jason pulled you towards the trees, where there was a little cement pathway enveloped in a bed of tangled vines and weeds. It was a driveway, with tire marks still visible under the greens. His hand gripped you tighter when you leapt over fallen branches. At the end of the driveway, you understood why he took you here.

An old, abandoned house.

Your hand would’ve fallen limp if Jason wasn’t holding it so tightly.

The house was small. Its picket fence of flaking white wood bore marks from claws, but had been spared from graffiti. It had a triangular roof made of clay scales, two windows and a balcony on the second level, and a rounded glass wall on the right side of the first floor. The rotted metal hinges on the door swung at every breeze that pulled it. The wood chipped with an earthly brown paint that dissolved with the weeds that grew between the panels. Vines were all over its porch, and a rocking chair sat outside by the entryway. Though it was covered in vines, it rocked when the wind blew strongly enough. Outside of the house was an old pickup truck that had rusted beyond use, sinking into the ground like it was pulled by the earth.

“The House of Usher?” you sighed.

Jason’s smile was more beautiful than the sight.

“Come on. We can go inside.”

“How did you know this was here?” you eagerly started for the door.

“They, uh…” he stuttered. “A really dangerous drug dealer used this place to hide their stash once. He’s gone now. We—the police came in and got rid of everything. Thankfully, they kept everything from the original owner intact.  Not everyone knows about this place.”

You reached the porch, but the door was blocked by pieces of broken furniture and shelves from the inside.

“Guess they don’t want anyone coming in here again.”

“Hold on. I think I can go in from the balcony.”

“How are you gonna—”

Jason leapt towards the pillar, his feet pushing on the cement to hoist himself up, then his fingers grabbed onto the floor of the balcony above.

Then his arms pulled his whole weight over the top, muscles stretching, and his abs peeking under his lifted shirt and jacket. You watched him, mouth gaping, as he swung his legs over the thin ledge. Then he climbed up the balcony railing carefully enough not to break the fragile wood.

Jason disappeared into the second floor of the house, then you heard thuds from the staircase, wooden pieces falling and rolling down the broken panelling. Then you heard him lift the furniture blocking the door with his bare hands.

You had all that time to compose yourself until he opened that front door, and still he caught you with your face heating to a boil.  

“Impressed?”

You pretended a shrug was all you could give him and walked past him through the door. “Not too much.”

You could stare at his grin all day, if not for the marvel that was in front of you.

The first thing that greeted you was a quaint foyer, with a table in the middle and a vase that housed rotted stems and petals pooling at its base. Behind it was the staircase Jason walked down from made of scratched-up wood and pieces of the ceiling that littered the panels. Papers, books, and clothes cluttered the floor. You had to walk all over them just to get around.

There were two entry ways on the sides of the foyer. One led to the living room, and one to the dining room and kitchen. The living room was most intact, with glass windows so large that they reached the ceiling and a petite grand piano standing by the wall. Its cover was up, and its keys had partially gone. It was positioned perfectly against the windows so that the light would hit where the keys were supposed to be.

The couches were completely ruined, scratched, and eaten away by mites and mold. At the center of the room, which caught your eye the most, was a shattered chandelier that had fallen to the ground. Explained why so much broken glass was on the floor.

“This is one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.”

Jason watched you like he was looking at the same thing.

On the other side, the dining room was more modest. A table seating six was still intact, but the chairs either toppled over the ground or were broken in half. Then there was the kitchen, with an island in the middle and an old-fashioned fridge that probably housed biohazards.

You both took out your phones and started taking pictures around the place.

“Jason…”

“I know,” he put his phone back into his pocket. “Do you like it?”

Your eyes fell on his face like they never wanted to leave.

“I do.”

You walked over to the piano and ran your hands over the broken keys, ignoring the mountains of dust that formed over your fingers.

“Play it.”

“There’s barely any keys left.”

His laugh echoed around the room, then you both walked around the chandelier.

“The family that used to live here left around twenty years ago. A mom, dad, and two twin girls. They both had tuberculosis and died in this house. The parents left everything after they died. Never took anything along with them. The police looked it up after they raided the place.”

“You did not tell me someone died here,” you gasped. “I would have asked you to take me here sooner. You think they put this up for a listing?”

Jason laughed. “The twins used to be theater stars. That’s why they had a piano. To rehearse their songs. And they built the whole place around it so the sounds would echo perfectly.”

Your smile was going to kill you soon enough.

You turned to Jason. He had his hands stuck to his jacket pockets, his head sheepishly craned down, and his hair falling to his eyes.

“And I thought you took me here because of Poe.”

His eyes were on you the way feathers grazed on skin.  

“You have the most beautiful voice I’ve ever heard in my life…”

You couldn’t look at him. Not like this. Not when he was pulling you with his eyes so much, that if you gave in, you’d surely fall onto his chest.

“Stop—"

“You never told me you sang.”

“I’ve sung in school a couple of times. Like in middle school graduation.”

“I wasn’t here in middle school. I was still in the streets.”

“Maybe I haven’t put myself out there as much as I did—"

Then he stood next to the piano, arms folded on top, with his gaze still so soft on you.

“Sing for me.”

He said it like a plea. You wanted to melt.

“Todd. No.”

“Please.”

Instead of letting yourself fall in, step closer to let that pull in him finally win against your strength, you said: “Hold out your hand.”

He looked at you, amused, then he reached out his arm. You took his hand and dragged him to the stairs.

“Come on. I wanna see the bedrooms.”

“Jeez, take me out to dinner first.”

You nudged his shoulder, and he chuckled.

The bedroom to the left was the parents’ master bedroom. You couldn’t step past the doorway when you couldn’t even see the floor. The bedsheets were torn and tossed away from the bed, and the closet was emptied, lying sideways on the floor with all the clothes, books, and music records destroyed and scattered to every end of the room. Whatever tornado was in this house, it stayed within these walls.

“This was where they stashed all the drugs. The police had to search every floorboard and wall panel.”

“That’s a shame,” you said. “What about here?”

The other door across the room was closed, and it creaked when you pushed on the doorknob.

It was likely because no one dared to open it for so long. Whoever the drug dealers were, they respected this place enough not to touch the twin girls’ bedroom. And the police knew not to touch it, either.

Because the moment you stepped in, something in you hallowed.

You knew nothing of those girls, of who they were or what they looked like. You didn’t know how old they were when they died, or how they sounded when they giggled and sang.

You just knew they were here.

Because not a single thing in that room had been moved since they died.

You knew, because the first things you saw were the empty bottles of tuberculosis medicine sitting on the nightstands.

Two small beds were on each side of the room, one with pink sheets lining the mattress and the other a soft purple. Their photos sat in frames on the shelves next to wooden toys and broken dolls. The walls, covered in worn pink wallpaper, had fallen apart and rotted with age. And though the window was closed, you felt a chill run up to your neck.

More toys were on the floor, some kept to the corners and in boxes, and the others on the floor like they’d been freshly played with and left behind, waiting for their owners to come back and put them away.

Your heel took one step inside, careful not to rattle anything off the walls.

Jason leaned against the doorway, watching you walk to the center of the room.

“Does it creep you out?” you asked. “Walking into dead people’s bedrooms?”

His eyes were on you as he nodded.

“I’ve been to a few,” he sighed. “But yeah, it does.”

You should be, too.

But nothing pushed you out. They welcomed you in, like they’ve been waiting for a guest, and you were the only one they wanted to entertain.

“I shouldn’t touch anything,” you said.

“They probably want you to stay and play with them.” Jason pointed at the toys on the floor.

“Shut up, you’re scaring me.”

Your eyes fell on the record player on the table against the wall. It was empty, but a collection of records was in a basket underneath. Theater music and show tunes. Sheet music was neatly piled on their desk, and a small keyboard was tucked in the corner next to the closet.

“They must have been so talented…”

You could have sworn a gust of wind blew against you, even with the window shut.

Or maybe it was their voices—their singing—inviting you to join in on their wispy song.

“Let’s go,” he said, as visibly shaken as you were. “I need a smoke.”

“Me, too.”

You headed out the door. If you stayed any longer, the girls might follow you home.

You promised yourself to visit more bedrooms that belonged to the deceased. Not to invade their space, but to know their story, feel them still being there.

Stories were only ever interesting, or considered stories at all, when they ended. And death was everybody’s end.

---

On the sunken pickup truck out in the yard, Jason leapt up the open tailgate and sat on his crossed legs on the rusted trunk. Seemingly forgetting that you didn’t have half that agility, he tapped the space next to him.

“Come on up.”

You stared up at him with your lips pursed.

“Right. Sorry.”

Jason reached out and pulled you by the elbow, hoisting you up until you could swing your leg over the edge.

You sat right next to him, but you both shifted so you’d face each other. Your knee, bare from the rip in your tights, ghosted against his jeans. His leather jacket you were wearing was more of a soft dark brown next to the new one on him: a tactical, jet-black leather—the kind bikers wore—and it fit snugly around his arms.

The sun was about to set, and you watched its orange flares fade next to the walls of the house.

Jason pulled out a smoke, lit it with his lighter, and stuck it between his lips. But when you held out your hand to ask for one yourself, he pushed it away.

“Singers shouldn’t smoke,” he said, smoke escaping his nose. “You’ll damage those pretty vocal cords.”

“Don’t do that to me, Todd.”

You reached for the smoke pack in his pocket, but he held your hand and wouldn’t let you pull away. Even when you’d slip from his grip, he was quick to grab you.

“Adele used to smoke five packs a day, and she won Grammys. I’ll be fine.”

“I’m not risking it.”

He stopped you before you could reach for it again.

The only way you could win is if you made a move he didn’t expect. And Jason seemed to know exactly what to expect from you.

So you did something he would never expect.

You grabbed the cigarette he had in his mouth and stuck it between your lips.

As you took a long, deep inhale to let the smoke sizzle in your lungs, your eyes locked onto his. Jason’s bottom lip was in his teeth, cheeks red, and his eyes in a hypnotic trance he didn’t try to divert anywhere else.

“You’re evil.”

“I know.”

You breathed a bit of smoke out into his face.

He inhaled that smoke.  

Then you saw him swallow so much his neck looked like it jumped.

Jason reached into his other pocket and pulled out your essay folded in quarters. He unravelled it and tapped the corner of the page on your knee.

He didn’t say a word as he started to read. He just let you watch him.

It was a good thing you took his cigarette. The smoke helped with how badly you suddenly wanted to leap to the grass.

You wanted to let him know you asked for help, but it wasn’t because you needed it.

You wanted him to know what it was like in your head—your thoughts, these words that came out of you, manifested from a gift he wanted to share with you first.

You wanted to know if he liked those thoughts, if his thoughts were the same, or if your thoughts mattered to him.

You’ve never in your life cared about the light that other people saw you in.

But you wanted Jason to know he made you love something when it was so easy to hate everything else.

You watched him read these words that came from you. You let him invade your mind. You’ve never been this vulnerable. And you were letting yourself be vulnerable. For him.

Why the fuck are you letting this happen to yourself?

However he felt in the music room—watching you sing with his cheeks beating from his warmth and his eyes that only grew so delicate when they were resting on you—you felt it, too.

There was a lightness in your chest, yet your stomach felt heavier to lug around than your head. You couldn’t look away, not for those few minutes it took for him to go through everything in your paper. And when he looked up, catching your eyes, you fell in.

You could’ve sworn it was theatrics, or a biological lie made up by the romances that never were, but it was real.

You saw Jason’s ocean eyes dilate the moment they locked onto you.

And Jason probably wasn’t lying when he said he saw yours do the same.

“I-I, uh,” he stuttered. “I just see some sentence structures and grammar stuff to redo.”

You wanted to know what he thought of it. Thought of you.

“Is that it?”

His eyes. His eyes were so beautiful, looking away from them was a crime of abandonment.

“I-uh…”

He took a while.

But he ran his fingers over the words printed on the piece. Your words. You.

“I don’t think I’ve read an essay like this before.”

Your head tilted, and he lost himself at the sight of your face. “Like what?”

Your words were a whisper. Like his.

“Like you,” he laughed. “You’re never afraid to say what you really think, and it shows.”

He flipped to the third page. When you wrote that, it was at three am the other night, and you just typed in whatever shit would come to mind.

But it was what caught his attention the most.

You threw the stub of the cigarette on the ground as he read the passage out loud.

“It’s almost comical, how even back then, Poe tackles the typical incompetence in professional detectives in the police force and the brilliance in the peculiar but genius. An ape being the murderer, something that never crossed their minds, could only come as a solution from someone who wasn’t too in his head and wouldn’t believe entirely in what they were used to and experienced. The gruesome evidence, like the shredded throat, should have come across as atypical, but they chose to rule it out as an unusual way a man kills, completely disregarding its inhumanity in a literal sense. Like in real life, only a man who is not afraid to be outrageous in his thoughts would be a great detective.”

You were stripped to nakedness, vulnerable beyond any shield you’ve built for yourself.

“Bruce is into detective… stories himself. He taught me a thing or two. And you’re right. It does help if you’re a bit insane to see the whole story.”

He tapped your knee with the paper again. “Also, is your English teacher Ms. Cabot?”

“Yes.”

“And you know her husband is a cop?”

“Yes.”

“And you just happened to call the police force stupid in five paragraphs regardless of that fact?”

“Maybe.”

“Is it because she told on you for throwing a book at a guy’s head after he laughed at you for picking your nose?”

“I was not picking my nose. I was scratching outside of it.”

“I’m not arguing with you on this again.”

How could Jason forget literally having to hold you back from committing homicide in class?

 “See. That’s why this is an essay I’ve never read before. It was made with ill intent.”

“Shut up.”

It was terrifying how easily he made you giggle.

Jason read the rest of the paper like he read scriptures on your body. These thoughts shouldn’t mean that much, but as he read them, you wanted to bury yourself with the weeds.

He didn’t let you, though, not with his smile so warm, you knew the transcripts of your mind would be safe with him.

“I was right,” he said. “You’d write these papers better when it’s a story that genuinely speaks to you.”

“It does,” you said. “Thank you for the book.”

“Of course.”

He kept flipping through the pages, pointing at excerpts he liked and ones that made him laugh.

“Why are you doing this?”

It came out of you before it could even run through your mind, but it was a question you wanted to ask since many days ago. You just never wanted to ask it until now.

“Because you asked me to?”

“No, I mean,” you swallowed. “Why are you doing all this? For me?”

Your fingers brushed over the faded bruise in your cheek.

“This. The house. My bruises. Your jacket…”

Jason’s eyes fell as he understood.

He reached over your hand and drew it away from your bruise so you wouldn’t pick on it.

“Why?” you whispered. “After how horribly I treated you?”

It took him a second, but he stared at your cheek, your lips, then your eyes. His hands jumped like they wanted to hold yours, and you wanted them to. But they stayed on his lap.

You could count your heartbeats from how much they thundered in your chest.

“You did not treat me horribly, Y/N,” he whispered. “You were the only one who didn’t.”

You wanted to tell him it wasn’t true. That everyone adored him. Everyone wanted him. That if he asked, they’d crowd around his shoulders and fight for his time to hang out at school if only he wasn’t stuck with you every day.

But that wasn’t what Jason meant.

He meant that you were the only one who saw him the way he wanted to be seen.

“Sorry,” he breathed out his nose to laugh, clearing his throat. “You’re just not that terrifying. To me anyway.”

You snorted.

“You sure you’re not afraid of me just a little bit?”

A piece of your hair fell on your cheek, and you could have sworn you saw his fingers twitch like he was about to draw it behind your ear.

You wanted to reach in yourself.

His deep, blue ocean eyes.

Dilating.

Locked on you.

And you knew your own eyes were looking at him the same way.

You wanted to laugh at how easily you let yourself break every wall around you for this boy to come in.

Just before he was about to pinch your cheek, youreached for his face and pinched his cheek.

He didn’t expect that, either. Jason looked like he wanted to melt. 

“Fine,” he said. “Maybe a little bit.”

---

You and Jason would wreck anarchy in this world.

Because what else was supposed to happen when two harsh flames meet?

Jason was supposed to be with a girl who was the brightest sunflower in the garden—so perfectly yellow that she’d rival the sun. And anywhere she’d stand, a rainbow would be over her petals. Jason should want that. He should need that.

You were not that girl. You were a dead tree with dried roots and branches without leaves and stems so sharp they’d poke anyone if they stood too near.

You had the same darkness as he had, the darkness anyone could see. Maybe you were even worse.

And if it were up to the same fate, you shouldn’t be with anyone with that danger, either. You should be with someone who puts out your fire, not engorge it in more gasoline.

But in this world with such a rule written by the fates, why did Jason bring you to the sky?

How does someone just as unhappy as you are come along and make you laugh like the world was about to end?

How does someone so enraged make your anger cease from this plane of existence?

How could someone supposed to make the fire inside you worse, end up being the warm sun?

Jason couldn’t figure it out, either. He thought he might end up with someone in his line of work. Another vigilante. Someone who could be with the Titans. Not a mean girl from school who terrorized people with scissors.

But no one has ever made him want to soar so high that jumping out windows was too short a fall for him to feel the drag of the wind he needed.

You were not a dead tree. You were a rose with petals of blood that were black under the shadows, lying alone and cold on a fresh bed of snow. Your stem would prick skin at the slightest touch, but anyone who’d pick you from a forest would thank you for the blood you shed from their palms, if it meant they got to hold you at all. You were covered in thorns, yet you were so beautiful, being pricked by you would be Jason’s wish.

With you in your little room and Jason in his significantly larger one in the manor, you sank to the ground, backs against the wall, and you pulled out your phones.

You left a message first.

Y/N: ‘urban exploring should be more of a thing.’

Jason smiled.

Jason: ‘nah. people would crowd those places and vandalize them.’

Y/N: ‘true. i’d want them all to ourselves anyway.’

Ourselves. Maybe you meant for yourself.

Or maybe you meant that you only liked going to these places with him.

You were subtle when you flirted. Jason liked that challenge.

Jason: ‘does that mean you’ll let me bring you to more abandoned places soon? ☺️’

Your heart jumped. God, this had to stop.

Y/N: ‘i’d like that.’

Jason: ‘should I get used to you being nice to me now?’

Y/N: ‘no.’

He laughed and shuffled his knees.

Jason: ‘it’s fine. I like it when you’re a little mean.’

Y/N: ‘I thought you liked me being nice’

Jason: ‘maybe I just like you’

You had to stick your face into your knees not to scream. This boy was going to be the death of you.  

Y/N: ‘send me the pictures you took.’

Scrolling through his albums, he selected everything he took that day and sent it all to you. Leaning on his back, looking up at the ceiling as he waited, Jason let the look on your face when you first saw the house clog his mind. He wanted that reward for himself. You were a reward.

You looked through the pictures and found several, about eight of them, centred on nothing else but you smiling at the ceiling, at the piano, at the chandelier, at the tables.

Y/N: ‘sure. shoot me from that angle.’

Confused, Jason looked through the pictures.

And he cursed out loud, over and over, burying his head in his hands when he saw he’d accidentally sent eight pictures he’d secretly taken of you. FUCK.

Don’t panic. This should be fine.

Jason: ‘you look great.’

Y/N: ‘I know’

Your bright smile would eventually bruise your cheeks, and instead of teasing him even more, you did the same and sent him pictures you took.

And Jason’s heart rose up from where it sank to the floor when he saw you’d taken just as many pictures of him gaping at the house. One photo was just his face.

You drove him crazy.

Jason: ‘don’t I look good.’

Yeah, you cooed. You certainly do. But you won’t admit that to him yet.

Jason: ‘huge favor.’

Y/N: ‘what”

Jason: ‘send me a voice message of you singing.’

Y/N: ‘go fuck yourself.’

Jason: ‘please’

Y/N: ‘no.’

Jason: ‘i’ll do your library work for a week.’

Y/N: ‘no.’

You loved teasing him.

Jason: ‘i keep my promises, just so you know.’

Y/N: ‘no.’

Jason: ‘sing for me tomorrow then.’

Y/N: ‘Ms. P will throw me out the fucking window.’

Jason: ‘it’s worth it I promise you.’

Y/N: ‘do my shelving work for three weeks. then I’ll send you a five second audio message of me humming.’

Jason: ‘make it a minute of a song of MY choice. then I’ll do it for ten days.’

Y/N: ‘not a chance.’

Jason: ‘what do I have to do then.’

Nothing. You gripped your phone to your chest. I’d sing for you if it makes you smile any day.

But it had to be perfect. You will sing for him. One of these days.

Your voice was the one treasure to your name.

And you wanted to sing for him when it was right. When you could see Jason’s face while he listened. When you could feel that chaos in your heart drumming at your chest when you lock into his eyes.

Because the way he looked at you in the music room will haunt you for many days and weeks to come. And you wanted him to look at you like that again, just for you to make sure it was real.

It had to be everything. Not now.

Y/N: ‘two weeks. and i get to ride on the cart while you shelf my books.’

Jason: ‘deal.’

You threw your head back, then you made a two second audio message of you saying “NICE TRY, TODD.”

Jason: ‘fuck you.’

Y/N: ‘😊’

You slept at 4 am that night. And only because your eyes were on fire, and Jason was drooling on the floor after doing pushups just to stay up and talk to you.

He had it bad.

Really bad.

And, not surprisingly, so did you.

---

A/N: I will say the house scene in this new version makes it even more pivotal a scene than the og, and it's something I'm very proud of myself for. The remastered edition is turning a lot angstier and more graphic than the original (for the first half anyway). I hope you enjoy this and do let me know what you think in the comments below!

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST:

@littleredwing89 @pricetagofficial @l-inkage @offendedfishnoises @bungunz @boosyboo9206 @estrela-rogers @americasmarauders @lucy-roo @satan-s-ass @shadowsndaisies @deadbeatphobos @thesunxxtodd

[batarella]

I Don't Hate You - Remastered - Chapter 4 (Jason Todd x Reader Series)

You're the meanest girl in school. Everyone is terrified of you. But when you're sentenced to ten weeks of detention at the school's library with another brooding troublemaker, Jason Todd, you find out there is, in fact, at least one guy on earth who isn't afraid of you.

And you hate that.

IDHY REMASTERED EDITION: GENERAL REVISIONS, NEW DIALOGUE, BONUS CONTENT, AND EXTENDED SCENES.

A/N: Another chapter that's almost a complete rewrite! When I was rereading this chapter for the first time all I could point out was all the things I could've done differently, and although I loved the mop scene, I couldn't keep half of the original dialogue. I love this one so much more, and they actually start to go soft on each other here earlier than they did in the original. I hope you like it!

WORDS: 7942 WARNINGS: GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS OF INJURY, BRUISES, MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE

MASTERLIST

----

His plan worked—getting you to listen to music on the job.

Ms. Peterson ordered you to record every book ever borrowed and returned from three years ago until present. Just gripping onto a pen and having to read through barely legible handwriting took up almost the same amount of energy as a night’s worth of patrol.

When you looked like you were about to pluck every grey hair from the old woman’s scalp, Jason told you to sit down and wear your earphones to drown out anyone who might come up to you and ask for directions. And with the library packed and every seat taken by a student cramming for their literature paper, it was going to be a long day. You both needed to disappear before you’d be rushing to every end of the hall answering the same question every five goddamn seconds.

And after fifteen minutes of you mumbling every needless complaint, you calmed down—just before Jason drove cleaver knives down his ears. He wore his own earphones, too, just in case someone would approach him, or when you’d start yapping again.

At least, that’s what you thought they were for.

Jason looked up. Your hair completely draped over your face and covered your cheeks, and your eyes were darting over to the book held open with one hand and a pen and notebook in the other. Half an hour into the job, you said nothing. Like the work wasn’t half bad, you had the same look on your face as when you read Poe on break times or when you crammed for a test at the corner of the stairwells.

Then your lips started to move, mumbling a word or two. You did that a few times, and each time, when Jason looked, he’d miss it, and you’d be quiet for the next while.

But you’ve probably reached a song in your playlist you couldn’t resist but hum along with. You started singing too low to be heard by anyone, but enough for him to notice.

Jason took out his phone, the new one that Bruce got him just because his old one had become far too insufferable to use, and paused his music.

Then he listened to you sing.

He leaned in to the lightness of your voice, pretending his work was all his senses would allow him to perceive, and that his earphones were blasting into his eardrums when they weren’t.

Nirvana. Come As You Are. You hummed some parts of the verses, then the chorus came out of you like a breath. That was what it sounded like—breathing. Like it was only natural for something so beautiful to come out of your lips.

Jason didn’t even notice—until he caught himself with flushed red cheeks and sweat down his hair—how every day for the past week, he’d been trying to catch even just a word of your singing. A few days ago, when he was a shelf or two away, he heard a line from a song he knew, from a voice he had only heard once but could pick out from a hundred. Jason almost sprained an ankle trying to sprint down the hall to where you were shelving your own cart of books. Each time, it was too late.

That day was the most he’d heard you sing since last week.  

The sound of your voice used to irk him so much, he’d rather stick his ear right up against a chalkboard and have you drive your sharp nails down the surface for an hour straight.

But now?

Your voice was music. Every instrument ever played, strings being plucked by fingers, keys being tuned, and notes being whistled: an orchestra combined—it all came from you.

He looked like an idiot grinning at the dusty book covers.

Was it really your voice, the words you made so beautiful, and how it calmed even the busiest room?

The nerves in him untangling, the stones in his chest thrown out into the oceans away, the cyclones in his mind calming into drizzles—was it because your voice was beautiful enough to soothe him?

Or was it because it came from you?

Because just as the disbelief clouded him the first time he heard you, it could only come from you. Your voice was yours. He could never hear it from someone else, not even the artists of the songs you hummed.

But he should have known. Penny was the best singer in school. She sang the National Anthem at every game, and school dances always had her perform.

And the two of you met in music class—the special class for the musically gifted. Kids had to be crazy talented to be admitted into that class. You never spoke of it. Not a lot of people knew you were in there.

There was so much of you to figure out.

He took too long with his pen stuck on a page and his eyes locked on you, because you looked up and caught him smiling.

Jason managed to look busy before you could question him.

With his music still off, he heard a few whispers.

‘That’s him.’

‘He’s so hot.’

‘I wonder who he’ll beat up next.’

‘Doesn’t matter. He’s a Wayne. I’m going up to him.’

You were the first to look up, with shadows under the hood of your eyelids as you stared at something coming up behind him.

Normally, you had a lot to say when you were irritated. But you said nothing as the two chairs at either side of him were dragged back and two girls, a blonde and a brunette, ambushed his attention.

You refused to remove your earphones, mumbling under your breath as you forced yourself back to your notebook

That was when Jason finally turned his attention to his left and his right.

“Hi.”

“Hi!”

“Hi—"

They barely let him say anything back.

“What’s your name?”

“Uhm. Jason.”

“Do you work here?”

“Yes. I should get back to—"

“Can you show us to the romance section?”

They started cackling, like Jason just told a joke. He caught your eyes rolling, just for a second, before you caught him looking at you. Either you intentionally ignored his obvious cry for help, or you didn’t look up long enough to notice.

“We’re new.”

“Can you show us around? This library is so cool.”

“I don’t think I can—"

“That’s okay. When are you free?”

“I didn’t know students worked at the library,” she nudged Jason’s shoulder. “Where do we sign up?”

You looked at none of them in the eye when you shoved everything you had on the table between your elbow and pushed your chair back hard enough to almost topple it to the ground. Then you walked away without a word.

Jason looked back over his shoulder to watch you leave. You took a seat at a table five rows down, far enough to drown out anything the two girls were saying.

Then, his ears buzzed. He barely paid attention to two words the girls said.

“Maybe we could volunteer, after that tour, of course.”

“You should give us a tour of the whole school.”

“You play football?”

“You look like you do.”

Jason didn’t know how long they sat with him. Hell, he didn’t even know what the girls’ faces looked like when they finally left. He never looked up from his notebook enough to see.

He looked behind him again. You hadn’t moved, with your back crouched over and your hand gripping the pen hard enough to make your knuckles glow red. Thirty minutes to five. He barely got to talk to you today.

Jason clicked his pen, threw all the books into the cart—which would be tomorrow’s pain and problem—and walked to where you sat.

He stopped when two guys, one with curly ginger hair and glasses and another one with lanky arms and a bowl cut, wordlessly took the two seats in front of you and watched you all googly-eyed.

You looked at both of them straight in the eye like lasers were about to come out of you.

“NO.”

The word came out of your stomach, and the boys scrambled out of the seats.

You were alone once more.

His cheeks ached from his smile. The stark difference in how you handled a similar situation should’ve taught him that he could beat up the whole football team and still wouldn’t be half as terrifying as you were.

He grabbed the back of the chair in front of you.

“Mind if I take this seat?”

You rolled your eyes.

“Promise you won’t kill me?”

“No.”

“I’ll sit here anyway.”

If you were trying to hide your smirk, you did a horrible job at that.

Your hand trembled just moving your wrist around when you threw the book into the cart and stretched out your arms.

“Your harem’s falling a little short there, Todd.”

“I needed your help back there.” His neck killed him just from moving. “One word out of you and they would’ve left me alone.”

“Now, where would be the fun in that?” you laughed. “I like seeing you suffer.”

He imitated your voice like a witch’s shrill cackle, then you kicked his shin under the table. Jason pinched your cheek to retaliate, but you flinched harder than usual and slapped his hand away.

Something powdery stuck to his fingers.

“Everyone’s here to do their literature paper,” you said. “I haven’t even started mine.”

Makeup. He shrugged. “How’s yours going?”

Your head fell into your hands like a weight to be lugged around. “I could’ve spent the past hour and a half doing that, instead I have my hand mauled by that fucking pen with this fucking outdated piece of work.”

Your endless barking earlier that day made him want to jump out the window, and every word felt like it took a whole five seconds to pass.

Somehow, right then, the chore of it had gone.

“Have you at least started?”

“No,” your head fell to the table. “But I’ve read the story. A few times over and over.”

Something in him wanted to leap.

“I can help you.”

You snorted. “Not funny.”

“I’m serious.” He leaned in, trying to catch your eyes that stared down at your lap. “Why’d you choose Rue Morgue?”

He noticed it grew more difficult for you to hide your smile when you weren’t looking directly at him.

“I like the violence.”

“Jesus, of course you do.”

“The razor was my favorite part. The monkey imitating its owner shaving?” You sighed. “I could talk about that for three whole pages.”

“An orangutan is not a monkey. It’s an ape.”

You stared at him.

Then took out your phone to type something in.

“Are you taking notes?”

“This isn’t exactly my forte. Maybe I do need your help.”

He laughed. “What else have you thought of?”

You put your phone down. “I like how even though it was written back then, it’s almost like Poe is making fun of other detective stories.”

“You think so?”

You nodded. “We always think about the killer’s motive, and it ended up throwing the police way off. And even when they said the whole murder was inhuman, and that it was impossible for a human to have done the crime, but they still refuse to believe a human didn’t do it. It’s like when all the evidence is telling them they’re wrong, and they still believe in what they want to believe.”

Jason’s eyes dropped to your lips.

“And like I said, I like the bloodshed. I can write about all the gore for like thirty paragraphs and that’ll for sure make me reach the word count.”

His face shouldn’t be beaming so much when you were there to see it.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He liked how you think. “You should take note of all that.”

“Really?” You pulled out your phone. “Cool.”

 “So, what’s keeping you from writing?”

“I can’t—” Your eyes were on your fingers. “I can do it. It’s just—I haven’t had the time. I couldn’t do it today, and last night I… was out, too.”

“You went home early last night.”

Your fingers pulled your hair behind your ear. You did so harshly, and he caught you flinching at your own fingers.

Something was off.

Your hand twitched.

He watched your eyes. They darted over the table.

The light caught your cheekbone just enough for him to see it.

His first instinct was to reach over, grab your chin, and tilt your face to the side, so your cheek would be directly under the light and he could find exactly what he expected being hidden under pounds of concealer.

But you slapped his hand away before he could.

“What the hell are you doing—”

You had bags under your eyes, with no traces of concealer to hide them, yet the makeup you had on your cheeks was so thick, he could feel it when he pinched his fingers together.

And you’ve been yawning all day. You haven’t slept.

“Where were you last night?”

You said nothing, shadows under your eyes.

“What happened?”

“Stay out of my business, Todd.”

“I know bruises when I see them. Where were you?”

“Jesus fucking Christ, you—” You looked around for anyone who might’ve heard him. Thankfully, even with it crowded, no one did.

“Let me see.”

“If you touch me one more time, I swear I’ll—”

“And if you don’t tell me what happened, I’m calling CPS.”

“Jason, I swear to fuck.”

“Just let me see.”

It must’ve hurt. A lot. Because you barely moved your neck, and your fingers would brush over your cheek, as if to check if the pain was still there. And you shifted in your seat every time you thought someone might have a good look. Jason knew what to look out for every time.

You might have caused injuries, but it didn’t look like you knew how to handle them yourself.

Because you stared at him, with your eyes gradually losing their blackness. Your lips softened into a light tremble. As quickly as you blinked, you grabbed his hand and pulled him to his feet.

“Not here.”

He pushed the chair back and let you bring him to wherever. He’d never been lighter on his feet. And your grip—strong, with your fingers sharp on his skin—it held onto him like it asked for the help you weren’t willing to ask yourself.

You pulled him to the rows of bookshelves, away from all the eyes.You knew one place no one would turn to if they knew any better, not if they didn’t want to see two kids dry-humping each other through their jeans.

And that was exactly what you ran into at the Boner Aisle.

“HEY! DIPSHITS!”

There it was. The shrill scream that came from the same throat as your singing.

“TAKE YOUR HORNY BUSINESS ELSEWHERE BEFORE I MAKE AN ORNAMENT OUT OF HIS DICK!”

Jason would’ve told you off if he had the space left in his head. But he thought of nothing else but getting those two walnuts out of there so he could take a look at you. They ran, and Jason’s pull almost made you topple. You hid deep between the shelves where not even the light could find you.

That aisle really was the best place to make out in. You couldn’t even hear anyone from the next shelf. And he was there, with you, in a place as good as an isolation chamber.

In other cases, his reaction would’ve been entirely different.

But Jason had never seen you this anxious. Your back fell against the shelf, because it didn’t look like you trusted yourself enough to keep standing. You finally looked at him, hands deep in your pockets.

He didn’t know what it was about the way he looked at you, because you looked like you both wanted to keep staring, to soften your own sharp gaze, or look away before it dulls you too much.

“May I?”

You said nothing.

You just pushed your hair behind your ear and turned to the side.

Jason stepped closer to you until your breath was against his shoulder. With both hands, he held your face.

You flinched at the first touch. He wouldn’t leave your eyes, just in case you’d ask him to stop. You didn’t.

Jason ran a gentle thumb over your cheek. He pushed hard enough to remove the makeup, but not too hard that he’d hurt you. A streak of concealer stuck to his skin. At just the wipe of the first layer, he could see a faint stripe of purple.

His thumb brushed over your skin again. You tensed, softer this time. But he kept his fingers gentler than before. And as he did, you eased in.

He removed enough of the concealer to see it was barely a day old, that you hadn’t even treated it with ice.

“They’re not from my dad, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“It is what I’m thinking.”

His hands were still on you. You had to grab onto his wrists to pull him away.

“They’re not,” you wiped your snot with your sleeve. “But we did yell at each other last night. And I ran away at one AM. I didn’t know where to go. Someone mugged me, and I threw the first punch. That’s it. I promise. It’s a lot lamer than you think.”

“You threw the first punch at a mugger?”

“You don’t think I was gonna let him get away with it?” You slumped back against the shelf. “And the only reason why I showed you is ‘cuz I don’t have a fucking clue how to make this better. Hurts like a bitch.”

The world would know no peace if they let you out in its anarchy.

“First of all. Don’t punch a mugger in Gotham City.”

“Can you skip to the part where you tell me to put ice on it or some shit?”

“You do have to put ice on it, since fourteen hours ago. I don’t have any ice on me now—”

The vending machine. The one just outside the library.

“Stay here.”

You said nothing while he rushed out of the maze of shelves, out into the hall, almost rammed himself into the machine, and bought you the coldest can of soda he could find.

Ms. Peterson caught him running. “Where the hell have you been—”

“Sorry, Ms. P.”

He hurried back to you, not even realizing how fast he was moving. You stared at him, then at the soda can.

“Use this.”

You took it, but he didn’t let you waste a second before he grabbed your hand and held the cold soda can against your cheek. Your hand went stiff under his, and he made sure you held it at the right angle before pulling away.

“It’ll be good enough. For a while. Until it’s not as cold. Then you can drink it, I guess.”

He wasn’t sure what to call the way you looked at him then, pressing the cold soda can against your bruise. Because he couldn’t recall you ever making that face before. Not to him, or anyone else.

In the midst of the rush, somehow, with his heart beating at twice the pace, he didn’t notice how quickly he’d just moved until he finally slowed down. And it wasn’t that he had any reason to run at all, except not to waste more time without the bruise being treated.

You stared at him, with your mouth gaping open, and the rest of you refused to move. Jason Todd had officially rendered the girl with the biggest mouth in school completely speechless.

“U-uhm,” your throat jumped, and you tried to look anywhere else on the floor. “Thank you… You didn’t have to run.”

Then he just wanted to laugh.

“I thought the Wicked Witch over there wouldn’t let me out if I didn’t.”

Maybe it will catch up to him: what he’d done and what it might mean. Jason didn’t know it himself. You managed ten minutes holding the cold drink to your face, until a rattling cry shook you both.

“YOU!”

Thunder might as well tail that woman around everywhere she walked. Ms. Peterson stormed into the Boner Aisle, thin finger to your faces as if she caught you in the act of dry humping with Jason.

“NO DRINKS NEAR THE BOOKS!”

She grabbed the can off your hands, and you hissed at how Peterson’s nails dragged along your skin. You tried to pounce on the old woman’s wrinkly neck, ready to give her a facelift with your bare hands, but Jason held you off with his arm.

“AND YOU! NO RUNNING OUT OF THE HALLS! GET BACK TO WORK. YOU’RE IN HERE FOR ANOTHER TWENTY MINUTES.”

You tried to push his arm off you, but his grip was firm, no matter how much you were digging into his bicep ready to claw the woman alive. Jason just glared at the librarian until she left.

Ms. Peterson turned back to her desk, opening the can of soda and taking a sip for herself.

You let go of Jason’s arm, back dragging itself down the glass wall beside the shelf.

“I don’t know which is worse. Going home or staying in here late with Baba Yaga.”

That grip in his throat still hadn’t left.

But when you sank to the floor, legs stretched out in front of you, he watched you grip onto your own hair as if you wanted to feel it sting.

He could see how dark the cloud was over you, swirling into a static string of black and coiling around your head the way it did his when nothing in this world seemed to be a peaceful enough place.

Jason sat next to you on the floor in Boner Aisle for a while. He didn’t watch you too much. And you just stayed there, quiet, with no intention to go back to work. You didn’t drive him away, either, and you didn’t move when the side of his shoe touched yours.

He didn’t know at what point it started to matter, or that if it even did.

He just grew to learn what made you laugh over the past four weeks. He could make use of that now.

“Wanna mess with her?”

You looked up from your hands after five minutes of sulking.

“Huh?”

“Go distract her. Make sure she doesn’t see her desk.”

Jason said nothing else when he picked himself up from the floor. Pretending to get back to work, he saw you walk out from the shelves, hair covering your cheek. He winked at you before you made your way to the desk.

“Hey, boss,” you said lightly. The old woman picked up on your fake cheer.

“I told you to get back to work.”

“I saw some kids vaping at the sciences section.”

“Then go tell them off.”

“They won’t listen to me.”

Ms. Peterson should’ve picked up on your lie right then. You’ve driven stoners out of the library when they were too high to even walk. No one in their right mind wouldn’t listen to you after you threatened to slice their thumbs off.  

But even when her eyebrow raised to the wrinkles on her head, Ms. Peterson stood up from her chair, and you followed her into the bookshelves. You nodded at him just as you disappeared.

Jason had seconds to work on a computer dating back to the Stone Age. Thankfully, Bruce taught him how to hack into operating systems older than he was.  

You emerged from the shelves.

“I’m giving you three days’ worth of notes to rewrite.”

“Great. Maybe then you’d give us something necessary to do.”

“Get back to work.”

Jason rushed out of the desk, and just as Ms. Peterson took her seat, he grabbed onto your elbow and pulled you back into one of the shelves.

“What did you do?”

Maybe it was the rush, the thrill of it. Maybe you just hated the rules and thrived on the disobedience. But already, he could see how much your face lit up, even before his deed was even done.

Jason couldn’t help his own laugh, feeling the buzz in himself. He was not one for pranks, definitely not one to mess around in school (at least, in this immature, reckless sense that wasn’t a fist fight). But you were.

He pushed his fingers to his lips, and you smiled, watching his eyes.

He made sure to watch your mouth drop and your eyes shoot open when a guitar solo started to echo into the halls.

The music didn’t start too loud, like someone’s phone alarm just went off, and they had to fumble with their bag just to turn it off.

But it was no guitar, nor a phone. It came from the old woman’s computer speakers.

You both peered into the spaces in the bookshelves to watch everyone’s heads turn to the librarian’s desk.

And the more keys the old woman frantically pressed, the louder the music blared. Her solitaire game crashed, and the cards started dancing on the screen. Jason made every piece in that keyboard tell the computer to turn up the music.

Ms. Peterson’s horrified face made the other students howl. Nothing made the song stop. By the time it reached the chorus, Nirvana was loud enough to rattle the books and buzz into the walls.

“WITH THE LIGHTS OUT, IT’S LESS DANGEROUS

HERE WE ARE NOW, ENTERTAIN US

I FEEL STUPID AND CONTAGIOUS

HERE WE ARE NOW, ENTERTAIN US”

He couldn’t even hear your laughter, but you were gripping hard onto his elbow just so you wouldn’t fall onto the floor trying to clutch at your stomach. But Jason was gone, too. The thudding burst out of him. His head was in static. He let himself get lost in his own laughter before pulling you up on your feet.

The old woman’s eyes were on you. You both had to run.

And you did. Through the hall, between the shelves, jumping over the students lying on the floor, hiding between the books until you had to run again when the old woman would find you—you and Jason ran before her witch fingers could grab your hair. And the music, screaming into your ears, only made your hearts rattle the rest of your bodies into pure euphoria.

‘WITH THE LIGHTS OUT, IT’S LESS DANGEROUS

HERE WE ARE NOW, ENTERTAIN US

I FEEL STUPID AND CONTAGIOUS

HERE WE ARE NOW, ENTERTAIN US’

He pulled your hand at the sharp turns, and you grabbed his arm when he was getting too fast for you to catch up. But while the rest of Smells Like Teen Spirit deafened everyone in that library, the old woman chased you through the maze of shelves until her knees gave out.

She stopped just when the song ended. You were back in the Boner Aisle, back to the wall, now with the widest grin he’d ever seen on you. He never had a childhood—not one that didn’t include snatching tires just to feed himself and his mother. But it didn’t have to be too late. He could be the teenage dirtbag you were.

You had to bite your lips from laughing after security found you in the shelves and dragged you both into the Vice Principal’s office. Watson looked at you with a storm of a headache.

“It was my idea,” Jason said. You still couldn’t help but cackle, covering your mouth with your fist, which made Watson look at you more with a vein popping out of her forehead.

“But she was an accomplice.” She stood up. “I’m going to make some calls. You two wait out in the hall.”

Back where you first met. You slumped into your seat beside him. “Sorry,” he gulped. “Dragged you into more trouble.”

“You’re not sorry.”

He stared at you, thinking you’d yell, but you didn’t.

Your fingers grazed against your bruised cheek. Your smile was subtle. But you did allow yourself to lock into his eyes then.

You bumped his shoulder with yours.

“Thanks,” you whispered.

Your eyes were on your feet. His couldn’t leave yours.

“You’re a horrible influence on me, Y/N,” he chuckled. Then you bumped his shoulder even harder. “Shut up.”

“You have to stop, or else you’re gonna make me commit felonies or worse, affect my grades.”

“Nerd,” you snorted. “Don’t worry. I’ve done worse. And they’re not going to suspend the kid with the highest GPA in the school. And what they won’t do to you, they can’t do to me.”

His cheeks flushed. “I don’t have the highest GPA.”

“You do. I should drag you into more trouble with me. Like a shield.”

Watson walked out of her office.

“I’ve called your parents. Mr. Wayne was more reluctant to let you stay in school until six pm, but I have their permission. I’m running out of options on how to punish you both effectively. So this better work.Tonight, you’re mopping the gym floors.

“Fuck.”

“Language.”

---

The mops they gave you probably had whole ecosystems growing out of their hair from a decade ago, given how worn out they were.

And the water was already brown when they handed you the bucket. Jason almost gagged just looking at it. But even though he had more ease holding the large mop, you swiftly swiped it from a single direction as if you knew exactly what you were doing.

“You work part-time as a janitor or something?”

“I could, after the number of times I’ve done this shit. You’re swiping it in the wrong direction, Todd.”

“No, you are,” he laughed.

“Look,” you swiped the mop in a clean stroke up and down. “Like this. You’re cutting way too many corners.”

“I’ve never in my life mopped a gym, so go easy on me.”

“And I’ve never shelved a library until four weeks ago. Get mopping. It’s my turn to yell at you.”

“This is worse than being locked up with you all night.”

“I’m here because of you, asshole.”

He nudged your shoe with the tip of his mop, and you almost choked, sticking your own mop against the ankle of his jeans. The water felt more like slime.

A quarter down the court, the night came to settle in.

“How many times have you mopped this gym?”

“Thrice maybe.” You scaled the outside of the lines. “You’ve never done this before?”

“I’ve only been in trouble a couple of times.”

“From fist fights?”

“Yeah,” he said. He wiped his sweaty forehead and hair with the collar of his shirt and let it ride up his stomach. He caught you look. “What’d you do the last time they made you clean the gym?”

“Are you sure you wanna know?”

Jason watched you take off your sweater, setting it on the railing beside you as you wiped off your own sweat. “Shoot.”

“I tore a guy’s book in half. With my scissors.”

“Why is it always those scissors?”

You laughed, then your arms were up, tying your hair with a scrunchie.

You’ve never done that before. Your hair was always framing your face. This was the first time he saw you with your hair up and your whole face shown.

Pretty.

“Most of my offences include them. Like my weapon of choice,” you said. “Tell me about your fist fights.”

“All of them were with Brandon. I really fucking hate that guy.”

“What’s with you and him, anyway?”

“Swear you won’t tell?”

“Who am I supposed to tell on, asshat?”

He leaned on the mop with both hands at the top of the handle. “Fine. Back in freshman year, the coach wanted me on the team.”

Your mouth dropped open, then you exaggerated a gag.

“You were supposed to be one of those football turds?”

He stretched his arms wide. “Fuck yeah, I was. Ever seen this bod?”

You hit his shin again with your greasy mop, groaning out of your throat.

“What happened next?”

“Brandon was trying out, too. But they could only have one more guy in. Coach signed me in first, but after talking to Bruce, I ended up turning it down. Didn’t really want it that much anyway.”

“Why?”

He went back to his mop. “I had other things to focus on. It wasn’t Bruce who held me back. I wanted to do… other things…”

“You do other sports?”

“Kinda,” he laughed. “I work out.”

He caught you trying not to look at his shirt, which was sticking to his arms and chest after all the sweat he was shedding.

“What kind of sport are you doing at home?”

“Martial arts.” He said it as if he were questioning himself.

You bought it, swiping the mop near your feet. “Brandon must’ve been pissed.”

“Yeah. Coach wouldn’t let him hear the end of it. He’d tell him it was supposed to be me on the team and not him, literally every time he messed up. Brandon took it personally. Then he’d just come up to me and scream shit into my ear.”

“Wow. I almost feel sorry for doing the same thing.”

He hit your leg this time with the mop. You shook yours at his direction, and some of the water spat onto his arm.

“Gross.” He gagged. “Anyway, he found out I used to live on the streets. It’s all he ever talks about.”

“And Brandon’s had two new noses since then. At least your sport paid off.”

Something in him wanted to jump. He leaned closer to you, mouth cocked to the side.

“Look at you, trying to make me feel better.”

“If you don’t back up right now, I’ll stick this up your nose,” you said.

“That was the nicest thing you ever said to me.”

“Shut up.”

He stuck his tongue out at you, and you poked his nose with the tip of your mop handle.

After mopping three-quarters of the court, you set the mop aside. Jason went out to buy water from the vending machine and came back with a bottle in his hand. “They had one left.”

“You’re kidding,” you groaned. “I wanna drink.”

“Beg.”

He held the bottle up from your reach like he did with the protein bar from a week ago.

“Jason, I will drown you in your own piss.”

He gulped down half the bottle with you clawing at his one arm that wouldn’t budge. So you took your mop and stuck the wet part against his stomach.

He choked on the bottle, and you snatched it from his hands.

“Thank you,” you sneered, drinking the rest of it.

Jason let you gulp on a good amount before he tipped the bottle over from the bottom. You choked on the pouring liquid, and the whole bottle emptied on your shirt.

You tilted your head like a wild cat about to pounce. He had to bend over from how much it hurt to laugh.

“I’m gonna kill you.”

You grabbed your mop, and the boy ran before you could stick the mop’s oddly colored mold against his skin.

“Y/N, PUT THAT DOWN.”

“COME HERE.”

You ran down the newly cleaned floor and chased him down. It was insulting how he didn’t even have to run that fast. He sprinted backwards, letting his shoes skid and making faces at you as you almost fell on your feet trying to keep up. His hair bounced, with some sticking to the sweat on his forehead.

You tapped his hip. “HA.”

“YOU ARE DISGUSTING.”

“YOU DESERVE IT.”

He ran for the bleachers. And you screamed, trying to follow him when your foot almost fell into the gap between the seats. Jason ran to the top and let you catch up for the fun of it, then he slid down the railing.

“I’m not even trying!”  he yelled, with you charging for him down the steps to the court.

You almost slipped on the wet floor, and with you tumbling, Jason snatched the mop from your hand.

It took a moment just for you to process how quickly he did that.

“Martial arts, my ass.”

“Run.”

You almost slipped again trying to run from him with whatever strength you had left in your limbs. You were sweating down your neck, panting for breath. He didn’t even realize how much of your voices were echoing around the large hall, with no one else there to point it out.

You were much slower than he was, and the tip of your mop drenched your whole bottom half with the shit water dripping off. Some got to your arm.

“GROSS.”

“HOW DOES THAT FEEL?”

“GET THAT THING AWAY FROM ME.”

Whatever microorganisms that lived in that thing have probably made a home on your clothes.

Then you grabbed the mop he used on the floor that was against the wall.

Like pointing two guns at each other, you slowed. Jason had never heard himself laugh like that in his life.

You sounded like you’d never laughed like that in your life.

You hit his leg, then you trailed it up to his shirt. He gagged in his mouth, then charged for you across the court. You threw one last assault and aimed the tip of your mop like a spear at his leg.

The highly trained vigilante that he was slipped on his ass, feeling the mop hairs all over the skin of his arm. He could’ve avoided it, or at least shifted quickly back onto his feet and struck back before you’d even know what happened. But he stayed on the floor.

Because you were laughing.

Your laugh should’ve sounded evil. It didn’t.

You didn’t laugh like you screamed, like when it rattled your throat and the sound would break through your eardrums. You laughed like it came from the same voice you sang with.

So he smiled, too.

Too tired to even sit up, he threw the mop across the floor and fell on his hands behind him. He liked making you laugh. Not a lot of people get to do that.

Then you fell to the floor next to him. You were panting, yet you refused to wipe your forehead with your arm with it damp with the mop water. Jason didn’t even know what time it was when you both sat there, sweating your pits off on the court floor.

“Thanks for that,” you panted. “Shithead.”

“You started it.”

His legs folded up with his arms over his knees. Then he let his head fall, breathing hard, letting his chest rise. Everything in that room spun like a record on a phonograph.

When you reached over to pull a strand of his hair away from his forehead, he stopped breathing altogether.

“You have bruises, too,” you said. “Right there.”

For those few seconds, the room wasn’t spinning, yet he felt his stomach flip all the same. It took a while for him just to say something.

“I didn’t get it from punching a mugger.”

He did, actually. But he wasn’t going to tell you that if he wanted to prove a point.

“Then who did you punch?”

He shook his head. “I got them from working out.”

You scoffed. “No, you didn’t.”

No fooling anyone when it was obviously left by a fist.

“Got into another fight?”

“Probably.”

You shrugged like it was nothing.

Everything slowed. Even his chest. What spun was now eerily still, even himself.

“You must think I’m some street thug.”

Since when did he care what you thought of him?

But you snorted. Again. The makeup all over your face was soiled, and your own bruise was bright purple against the dim light.

“What kind of street thug reads Little Women and whines when his GPA slips below a 4.0?”

Then, the stillness settled. He stopped panting. He stopped spinning.

He couldn’t fight how his face beamed any longer.

“So you got anger issues. Big deal,” you said. He still didn’t know what to say back. “I got them, too.”

Anyone else would’ve refused to answer that question or denied it, thinking the opposite. Because he wasn’t far off from being a street thug. Not when he was on the streets every night, throwing his fist at whoever deserved it.

Not a single conversation was enjoyable after people knew who he was or what he used to be.

“You don’t think I’m that cool?”

You snorted. “No.”

“Your friend told me you thought otherwise.”

You bumped into his shoulder again.

“Maybe a little.”

The only thing that drove him more insane than arguing with you over bookshelves was a conversation faked by pretenses, like the one he was forced to have for more than an hour with two girls he can’t even remember the names of. Conversations could be civil, and they could bore him to near sleep.

You never bored him once.

And ever since Bruce took him in, what came out of people’s mouths when they spoke to him was clearly nothing like what went on in their heads. No one was ever truthful to him anymore.

But you said exactly what you thought. He never had to guess anything with you.

As Jason stood on his feet, he pinched your good cheek. You slapped his hand away on instinct.

---

His damp skin smelled like dirt. Jason watched you put your sweater back on and head for the sidewalk.

“See you on Monday,” he said.

“You have three days to live,” you glanced back at him, hands in your pockets. “Enjoy it while you can.”

Jason turned to his motorcycle. Then you walked away. It was too dark. The lamp posts were up. But further down the street, the posts would stop.

If only that mugger who punched you in the face would tell his friends how you weren’t worth the injury, you’d be safer walking at night. Somehow, he didn’t trust you did that much damage.

You turned to the corner of the street with your hands shivering from the cold. Every inch of your skin was damp from the endeavor.

But just when you would have crossed, Jason revved his bike in front of you.

“Hop on.”

“Stop it, Todd.”

“I’ll take you home.”

You kept walking, and his motorcycle followed your pace.

“I’ll walk.”

“Then I’ll just have to keep following you until you get home.”

“I don’t know what is up with you, dude.”

He handed you another helmet, scooching to the front to give you enough space behind him.

“It’s too late for you to walk home.”

You finally stopped. You were alone in the streets. No one was in school at this hour. It was you and him in the dark.

So no one saw you look at him the way you did then. Your sadness would probably never leave his mind that night.

Yet, it wasn’t the same sadness from earlier that afternoon.

“Really?”

“Yes.” He handed you the helmet. “Now come on.”

You stared at the helmet for a moment before taking it.

“Hold on tight.”

He felt your hands around his waist, then he sped down the streets to where he knew you usually trailed the sidewalks on foot. He snaked past cars, further down until you reached the city. He never realized how much the city lights reflected off his helmets until he looked back to check on you.

You leaned in towards him.

You, who once stabbed a lab partner with a scalpel after spilling frog blood into your coat, were holding him tight. You gave him that trust.

He reached your house. From the looks of the alleyways nearby, you never should’ve gone out so late. And that was exactly what he told you as you swung your leg over the bike, handing him back his helmet. He took his off to look at you.

He stared at your bruise just as you stared at his. He’d completely rid you of your words. You mumbled another light thanks after the several times you’d said it to him that day.

It was plenty of firsts. For either of you.

Sometime tonight, the weight of everything he did for you that day would eventually sink in.

“Shit, I almost forgot.”

You took out your backpack and pulled out his leather jacket. The one he gave to you that night after the library.

“Took you long enough.”

“You never asked for it back.”

He didn’t think to.

“You liked it?”

You pursed your lips. “I wear it on the way home. It’s warm. Might get one for myself.”

He looked away before you’d possibly pummel him with your knuckles at how goofy the grin was across his lips.

“Don’t wear it now. The mop water will stick to the leather.”

You both laughed, then you shivered from the sudden gust of wind. And he almost wanted to take his last two sentences back.

“You can wear it in school.”

“And have those two girls see me in your jacket and fight me for it?” you snorted.

“So?” he put his helmet back on, revving his bike. “Not like you’d let them win.”

He said that just to catch your smile once more before the day ended.

He watched you go up the stairs to your apartment before he let his mind empty itself on the way to the manor. Because too many thoughts wanted to fight for his attention right then. He wanted to push them all away, before this moment breaks.

Jason got home, and Alfred wouldn’t let him walk all over the floor up to his room without shedding off his shirt.   

“Master Bruce isn’t happy with you being in so much trouble in school.”

“I’m fine, Alfred. I had to take someone home from school.”

“Oh?” His mouth pursed. “Who?”

“Just a friend.”

Hanging out with a paranoid detective probably rubbed off on the butler. “I see,” he said. “You have twenty minutes to get ready, Master Jason. You leave for patrol in a short while. Go take a shower.”

He wasn’t even that tired. When he clearly should be exhausted out of his mind. But he wanted to run. He wanted to jump off buildings.

Jason fell on his bed and unlocked his new phone.

Then he shot himself back up, seeing an unknown number send him a text from ten minutes ago. He opened the message.

‘I smell like shit. Thanks a lot, jackass.’

Only you would say that after he just saved you thirty minutes of walking home in the cold dark. At least then, in the safety of his room, you wouldn’t have to see him grip his own hair just to keep himself from smiling so much.

After all those weeks, you did save his number. Just when he thought you ignored it.

‘You’re welcome. It suits you.’

‘You didn’t even take the jacket back,’  you replied after ten seconds.

He saved your number with a devil emoji next to your name.

‘Keep it.’

---

Before he could even put Two-Face’s goon down on the ground after beating him repeatedly with his fist, Robin took three seconds to pull out his phone.

‘Almost forgot. Put some ice on that bruise. And Tylenol helps, too.’

“Robin!” Batman called out from the bank vault. “Put that down!”

“Sorry!”

---

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST:

@littleredwing89 @pricetagofficial @l-inkage @offendedfishnoises @bungunz @boosyboo9206 @estrela-rogers @americasmarauders @lucy-roo @satan-s-ass @shadowsndaisies @deadbeatphobos @thesunxxtodd

[batarella]

I Don't Hate You - Remastered - Chapter 3 (Jason Todd x Reader Series)

You're the meanest girl in school. Everyone is terrified of you. But when you're sentenced to ten weeks of detention at the school's library with another brooding troublemaker, Jason Todd, you find out there is, in fact, at least one guy on earth who isn't afraid of you.

And you hate that.

IDHY REMASTERED EDITION: GENERAL REVISIONS, NEW DIALOGUE, BONUS CONTENT, AND EXTENDED SCENES.

A/N: When I originally wrote this chapter, this was when the story finally took shape, and I had an idea where to go. It was also the first time I wrote 7000 words in one night, and i got more and more into it until I wrote 15k words in one night for the Bullet. So this chapter means a lot to me. It was so fun to write. I hope you have fun reading it as well. I added around 3 new scenes in this chapter other than the rewrites!

WORDS: 8700

WARNINGS: SMOKING, MENTIONS OF DOMESTIC ABUSE/PARENTS YELLING, MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE

MASTERLIST

----

Bad boy on a bike incoming.

You knew the stigma around being ‘the guy who punched another student in the face’ wouldn’t last a week. A repulsive warning eventually mutated into a forgivable character flaw.

But only when it was an attractive, brooding male who came to school on a motorbike.

You sat on the steps next to Penny at the early hours of school. You never knew at what point you could pick out the thunder of Jason’s ride over every other vehicle in that parking lot, but you did. Maybe because it came with giggles and fawns over from the kids watching him swing his leg over the seat and remove his helmet.

The leather jacket really tied it all together.

“He’s so hot,” Penny sighed.

You rolled your eyes but didn’t disagree.

Just last week, all they whispered about was how disgusting and possibly demented Jason was after breaking another student’s nose. Then Brandon thought telling everyone he was a street kid would make them feel more disgusted, when all it ended up doing was spur on more talk about how he got out of the streets.

Which led them to finding out Jason was adopted by the wealthiest man in Gotham.

Now they looked at him like he was 90’s Johnny Depp.

His head was down, then he caught the eyes of his smiling onlookers. He nodded back.

And when he caught your eye, seeing you reading the book he gave you a week ago, the smirk on his face looked diabolical.

Jason walked closer to where you sat on the steps. And without stopping, he reached over and pinched your cheek.

You slapped him in the arm, and you heard him cackle into the hallways.

---

The old woman wouldn’t be startled even if you threw a grenade at her face.

Your hands fell flat on Ms. Peterson’s desk, then you shook to enforce a claim on her attention. When she did look up, you flashed the brightest fake smile your cheeks allowed you to. The old woman’s outdated computer buzzed from her fifth round of solitaire for the day, which meant it was as perfect a time to bother her as poking the arm of a doctor doing heart surgery.

But you’d been in the library for twenty minutes, and all you’d done was count the pieces of lint stuck to your hair and kick Jason’s shin from underneath the table until he looked like he wanted to kill you. You didn’t know which was worse: doing actual work in the library or not doing anything at all.

“Listen, Ms. Peterson. As much as we love hanging out in this outdated hellhole, I’d rather we go home than sit here and do nothing for the next hour and a half.”

Ms. Peterson wouldn’t look away from her screen. “I’m told to keep you in here for another seven weeks. I’ve had this job for fifty years, and I’m not about to lose it to two whiny brats.”

“She’s the only whiny brat here, Ms. P.” Jason placed his elbows on the desk and leaned over beside you. “If you let us out, it’ll be our little secret. C’mon.”

That trickery must work for Jason if it were anyone else in school, but Ms. Peterson had the same soulless look in her eye when she turned her head at the young man.

“Sit. Down.”

“What are we supposed to do?”

“I don’t care. Just get your asses on those chairs and sit. Look! A person in need of service. There’s your job. Go do it.”

Someone was behind you, and you made sure he knew how much of an annoyance he was when you turned and almost growled through your gritted teeth. Jason turned as well, looking just as irritated. 

The sight of you both made him almost piss his pants.

“Uhm,” he gulped. “Can you please show me where sci-fi books are?”

With a heavy breath out of your nose, you glanced at your nails before nudging Jason with your shoulder. He grunted, giving you that ‘I really fucking hate you’ look on his face that was practically branded onto his skin since the first time he heard your voice. You refused to look up at either of them.

Jason groaned. “Go through that aisle. Third shelf from the right.”

“He asked you to go with him, Todd.”

He looked like he wanted to bury you alive in the piles of books. “He can find it himself.”

The poor guy was quick to agree. He ran away, making sure not to look you in the eye.

You both slumped back on the empty table. Jason’s head fell on his crossed arms resting over the surface, and his hair was all sprawled out. You leaned back, head hanging on your neck, and shut your eyes, hoping the clock would go faster if you pretended not to look at it.

It didn’t.

Three weeks in this shithole. And you were far from being halfway through. Why couldn’t you have just punched Maxwell in the face? Or threatened to murder him in his sleep? Soon enough, you’d prefer being thrown into Belle Reve than a dusty library with an old woman worse than a prison guard and a boy who loved to pick at your flesh all the way down to the bone.

You could look at the glass walls out of the library, or find a book and actually read one of them.

Or you could stare at the eye candy in front of you.

Jason was cute when he wasn’t yelling at you for shoving Jane Austen books in the Horror section.

You realized biceps had to be that huge for veins to pop out of them. His thick, black hair was long enough to cover most of his forehead. And you noticed he liked to wear thin shirts so he wouldn’t sweat too much under the leather jacket he wore outside, so even more lean muscles would pop out when he’d unintentionally flex.

He wasn’t absolutely huge, since he was just 17. But he likely had a workout routine more intensive than the entire football team combined.

You wouldn’t mind looking at that for a while. Not until he starts talking, anyway.

You kicked his shin under the table for the seventh time that day. He jumped, startled, scowling at you through dark bags under his eyes.

“The fuck do you want now?”

“Someone’s crabby.”

He heaved his chest and leaned all the way back against his chair, spreading out his arms behind his head to stretch.

Even his veins had veins.

“I couldn’t sleep last night.” Jason leaned back over the table. “You done gawking?”

“Cute.” You scrunched up your face to mock him. “I’m bored.”

“And what am I supposed to do with that?”

“Help me sneak out of here.”

“It’s been two weeks. You think I haven’t tried sneaking out a few times? That woman’s got the eyes of a fucking hawk.”

“Is there any other way out of here?”

“I doubt it. All those windows are just pieces of glass bolted to the wall. The only windows that do open are those tiny ones on top.”

Your groan hurt your throat. And your phone was no less exhausted than you were.

“I’m at three percent.”

Jason took out his own phone. “Mine’s at five.”

“That blackout from last night reached your monster mansion, too?”

He rolled his eyes. “Bruce has generators to power up the whole city if he wanted to.”

“Then why are you at five percent?”

“Because I’ve been tinkering on this sorry little fucker for the last thirty minutes.” He held it up with just his fingers. It had a cracked screen. It looked too old to even be used. “Battery drains faster than my patience.”

“Can’t your rich dad buy you another one?”

“He did. I don’t wanna use it. Doesn’t feel like mine.”

“Ah. You’re one of those guys. ‘My parents are rich, not me’ kind of dudes. You’re all the same kinds of annoying.”

“I’m adopted, which makes it less annoying.”

“Don’t you want to enjoy his money at least a little?”

“I like his gym.”

You sure look like you do.

You turned away before he’d catch your eyes darting over his bicep again, and you caught the eye of Maxwell, who had a sling on his arm still.

“Holy fuck,” you reached for your bag. “I can’t believe I forgot.”

“What?”

Pouring out the contents, you mumbled. “Help me with this and I owe you my life.”

“I think watching you wallow in your misery would be more worth my time.”

“You’re taking after my vocabulary, Todd. Good. And I’d say likewise if I wasn’t so desperate.” You started pouring out pieces of paper, a bottle of glue, and a pair of the largest scissors Jason’s ever seen.

“Is that-“

“The scissors that sent that guy to the nurse?” You pointed at Maxwell. “Yes. Yes, they are.”

“Jesus.” He took it from the table. “This thing’s a military-grade weapon.”

“Stop ogling and help me.”

“What the fuck are you supposed to do?”

“Remember the project that kid spilled his coffee on? This is it. I finished it that day, and now I have to do it all over again. They gave me another two weeks to do it and I completely forgot about it until now. I’m supposed to make a stained-glass kind of picture. But with cutting pieces of colored paper.”

Jason took the paper you had on the table. They were all white, black, gray, and one sheet that’s dark red.

“There are other colors that don’t induce depression, you know.”

You shrugged. “I like working with those colors. Now help me. I wanna do this.” You pulled out your phone and showed him a saved photo of one you’d like to copy. He almost jumped out of his seat when you suddenly showed him a picture of a deranged clown with a big red nose, a smile much larger than half his face, and eyes dark and dwelling enough to give him nightmares.

“I wanna know what type of dark shit you’re on.”

“It’s just a clown.”

“I am not helping you with your little art project.”

“Please.” Your hands were down, eyes widened. And your voice; you were sure he’d never heard you speak that softly.

The bags under his eyes twitched, the shadows in them imprinting on you. That jaw looked like it hurt being flexed like that.

He looked at the clock. Then back at you with his eyeballs rolled all the way around.

“You’re lucky I literally have nothing better to do.”

You gave him a black piece of paper and a pair of scissors. “Great. Cut these into the shapes I drew here.”

He snatched them from your hands. If he gritted his teeth any tighter, they’d likely break. You just smiled back. “Thanks, Jay.”

“Shut up and get to work.”

If only annoying this boy wasn’t the most entertaining part of detention, maybe you’d do it less often.

“What’s making you so grumpy today?”

He didn’t bother looking up at you. His eyelids looked like they were about to shut closed as he cut the black piece of paper.

“I told you. I didn’t get to sleep last night. I was… out.”

“But we’re not supposed to go partying on school nights,” you mocked.

“I’m sorry, I forgot I was talking to Hermione Granger and not Chucky’s bride.”

“Funny.”

“No. I was not out partying.”

“Then where did you go?”

“I’m not answering that question.”

“You’re even crabbier than I am today,” you snorted.

Carefully, he went through the first paper and gave you the shapes you wanted. You set aside your own batch and took out the larger, white paper on which you’d glue it all.

“Okay. Give me the shapes.”

You took out the glue and started pouring it on the paper.

“You’re doing it all wrong.”

“I know what I’m doing.”

“You clearly don’t.” He snatched it from you and started wiping the glue off with his finger, spreading it around. “I can’t believe I’m fucking doing this.”

“And what are you doing exactly?” you snarled.

“Pouring the glue in like that will make it all sticky. You should’ve traced over the outer lines so it wouldn’t crumple.”

He wiped his glue-covered fingers all over your sleeve, and you almost pummeled him onto the table. It took that to make him laugh for the first time that day.

“I know that.” You took the glue away from him again, then placed the shape onto the paper. “One down.”

“Fucking kill me now.”

“Keep cutting. I’ll handle the glue.”

“Then do it right.”

You stuck your tongue out at him. He started again with your scissors and went back to snipping off the pieces of paper. Gluing the shapes one by one, you started taking out a red marker and traced the outlines to mimic the flow of blood.

Jason stared at it, then at you.

“They need to arrest you. In Arkham Asylum.”

“Shut up.”

“Excuse me.” A girl went up to you. “That lady told me you could show me to the young adult section?”

“No.”

You kept with your glue, not even looking at the girl who just stared at you awkwardly. Jason pinched the bridge of his nose and almost sighed out his lungs. “Go down that aisle. Fifth shelf. Down the very end.”

“Uh. Thanks.” She walked over to where Jason was pointing. You still didn’t look up from your work.

“You need to chill,” he said.

“Says you. Finish those up. That’s the last one.”

Jason’s eyes were going to strain with the amount of rolling they did that day.

He violently cut the clown’s big red nose, before dropping the scissors when you started gluing the pieces together.

He gave you no warning before grabbing the glue bottle from you and the shapes, stretching his arm out so you can’t reach them.

“TODD.”

“YOU’RE RUINING THE WHOLE THING.”

“NO, I’M NOT.” 

“YOU ARE. AND I DON’T WANNA DO THIS ALL OVER AGAIN.”

You cursed and stood up from your chair, reaching out with your arms all the way to him while he wiped off the excess glue.

“GIVE THAT BACK.”

“SIT DOWN.” 

You heard the shrillest shush Ms. Peterson has ever made, before you went back to fumbling with Jason. Your table was at the far end, and she was no longer in your line of sight. He held your wrist, wiping off the rest of the glue, then finally handed the bottle back to you. Putting the shapes onto the paper, you groaned when you slumped back on the chair.

“It looks horrible,” he tried to stifle a laugh.

“Fuck you.”

“At least you’re almost done, right?”

“You put the glue on the shapes then, genius. I’ll paste them on.”

Grumbling with his deep voice, he took the glue bottle and swiped the shapes back over to him. Using thin, barely visible lines, he was so stingy with the glue that you wanted to tear your hair out.

“That won’t even stick to a fucking fly trap.”

“You want your work to look like a wrinkly old man’s balls?”

“Just put a bit more.”

“I have the fucking glue bottle,” his eyebrows were raised. “You sit there and wait for me, then you stick them yourself. Start with this.”

He slammed a shape onto the table, and you took it, careful not to hit your fingers with the glue.

It was a miracle you went this far at all without any fingers down anyone’s eye sockets.

“YOU’RE THE ONE WHO CUT THEM, DINGUS.”

“HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW THE RIGHT FUCKING SIZE.”

“I GAVE YOU THE PATTERN. YOU ONLY HAD TO FOLLOW IT.”

“WELL, I WOULD HAVE IF YOUR SCISSORS WEREN’T THE SIZE OF GRASS CUTTERS.”

“THEY’RE THE BEST PAIR IN THE WORLD. YOU JUST CAN’T HANDLE IT.”

“I THINK I CAN HANDLE A PAIR OF SCISSORS.”

“THEN WHY DO YOU CUT LIKE YOU’RE SEVEN?”

“’CUZ SEVEN-YEAR-OLDS DON’T HAVE A FUCKING PARAKEET SCREAMING AT THEM EVERY FIVE GODDAMN MINUTES.”

Ms. Peterson would’ve thrown her slipper at you if she hadn’t gone out to the bathroom.

Everyone else had left. It was almost 5 pm, and you refused to go if your project wasn’t finished.

“This. Is. The worst day. Of my entire life. And I used to live in the streets.”

“You’re not going anywhere. Stay.”

He had a hunch on his back when his face fell to his hands, slumping over the table. “Why can’t you just kill me?”

The second set of cut shapes was just the right size, and the whole thing looked decent. Jason didn’t bother looking up. And when you allowed yourself to be quiet for the longest time that day, he fell asleep, drooling on the table. You used the last of your battery health to snap a picture.

No one was left in the library, and it was just starting to get dark.

“Aaaaand THERE.” You placed the finished project on the table and clapped your hands together. Jason woke up, looking like a zombie awakened.

“You may go.”

“You owe me fucking big time.”

You flashed a grin as he violently pushed his chair back, grabbed his backpack and headed to the door. You took your time. Nothing at home made you want to head back, even at this hour.

Not until Dad would fall asleep and you could walk in without hearing an earful.

You carefully slipped your collage into your folder and slung your bag over your shoulder.

Jason was still standing in front of the door, hand frozen on the handle.

It wasn’t budging.

You shoved him aside and turned it yourself, only for your hand to come to an abrupt stop and the sound of gears refusing to turn.

“Where the fuck is Mother Goose?”

“The bathroom-“

But she wasn’t in the bathroom. Unless Ms. Peterson took her large purse and computer along with her to the toilet, she probably wasn’t in there.

“Are we-“

“There has to be a key here.” Jason rummaged through the librarian’s desk. Every drawer he could forcefully pull out, he did.

You pulled out your phone, which was a dead 0%, the image of a drained-out battery staring back at you. Panic would soon settle in, though you could refuse it a home.

You rushed to the library’s old telephone, but you couldn’t even hear a dial tone. The phone was off. Jason’s phone was probably just as dead.

You rushed to the lights to turn them on, but nothing happened.

Fuck. Another blackout. FUCK.

“No key,” he almost fell over the table. “Shit. FUCK.”

You only stared at each other, feeling your heart rise to your neck as every option you could think of sounded as ridiculous as the last.

“The window?”

Jason leaped to the shelves with impeccable speed and strength. You’d wonder more about his workout routine if you weren’t starting to sweat off your pits. He climbed where he could stand on the shelves and reach for the windows above the walls of glass. The windows were small enough that they only budged open a couple inches, barely enough to even reach a hand in.

His limbs were flailing when he jumped onto the floor.

“M-Maybe. Your dad will come pick us up?”

Jason shook his head.

“Something… happened last night… and he, uh, got really mad at me and told me I couldn’t come with him to… his workplace tonight… which he’ll be at until dawn…”

“Won’t he look for you, at least?”

“He… knows exactly where I am… all the time… If he sees I’m still in school, he won’t be too worried.”

You weren’t sure you understood. But it didn’t matter if it wouldn’t help.

“Your parents?”

You gulped. “I ran away last night for a few hours. When I came back, Dad told me he wouldn’t look for me anymore if I did it again today.”

Your back hit the wall, and you slid down with your head up in the ceiling. Both silent. None of you even said it out loud.

Jason looked like he wanted to scream.

—–

You laid on your back flat against the table, with your arm over your eyes to shield them from the light posts outside the window on the driveway, your only source of light now that the sun had left you alone in that library like everyone else. You tried to drown out Jason’s fiddling with his lock pick and the door handle. It was barely into the evening, and you were about to pass out.

“That’s not gonna work.”

“You got a better option, Lydia Deetz?”

You clenched your jaw. “You’ve been at it for an hour.”

“I’m almost through this.” He kept with his pick, a hairpin he found on the ground, which he spent another hour looking for. “THERE!”

You shot up from the table, leaping onto the floor as you sprinted to Jason’s back. “Here’s to freedom.”

Too eagerly, he turned the handle and pulled the door.

Only for his hand to jolt at another abrupt stop. The door wouldn’t open, only peering through an inch. The high sank like a man jumping off a plane without a parachute, and he almost fell out of his feet when you violently pushed him away again, pulling on the door yourself and failing.

You could see the deadbolt, but something outside was holding the double doors from opening, no matter which one you pulled on.

“That batshit crazy old witch,” you growled. “Fucking chain locked the door.”

Jason threw the hairpin to the ground like he would’ve a knife. “WHO CHAIN LOCKS A LIBRARY?”’

You walked away from the door, going back to the tables so you could bend over and stuff your face into your hands. Jason was even more of a mess.

Last night, you wished your room were a whole apartment building away from your parents. Your head throbbed from how harshly you pulled at your pillows into your ears in an attempt to drown out the screams. It wasn’t enough. That night, you wished you were somewhere else, anywhere at all, that wasn’t your home. Now you ended up somewhere even worse.

Jason fell on the floor, back flat against the wall, and his eyes were shut while you collapsed on top of the table.

“I’m hungry.”

“The fuck you want me to do about that?” Jason kept his eyes shut.

“You got any food?”

“No.”

“Don’t you have something in your bag?”

“No.”

“Any candy or gum?”

“No.”

“Can you check?”

“You think you can stab me with those scissors? ‘Cuz I feel like choking on my own blood right now.”

You rolled over so you were laying on your stomach. Craning your head up to look at Jason with your chin resting on your fingers, you grinned. “I’d rather not spend the night being stuck with your rotting flesh. I’ll kill you in the morning.”

Jason screamed into his hands. “We are not gonna be stuck here until morning.”

“Either you die tonight still in denial, or we actually try to survive. Now do you have anything in your bag?”

He didn’t give in to picking through his bag without flipping you off. The sky was completely dark by now. And the only light source you had was three lamp posts outside the window. The power was still off, which meant it was going to be this dark the whole fucking night.

“Would you look at that?” He took out a small protein bar from his smaller pocket. “Forgot that was there.”

You jumped off the table again. “Great. I’m starving.”

You walked too fast to Jason, who immediately stood up and held you by the shoulder, raising his hand away from your reach. “Ey. Mine. From my bag, remember?”

“I don’t have anything in mine!” you reached and tried to push him, but had no luck against his strength. “Come on!”

“I have way more body mass than you. I need this.”

More body mass meant more meat for you to chop up when you inevitably leave him to the wolves. He kept pushing your shoulder from him until you backed away reluctantly.

“WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO EAT?”

You threw yourself against the wall. Jason opened the protein bar, took a large bite, and left behind almost a third of the whole thing.

“You know. That thing with the scissors stuck into your neck doesn’t seem like a bad idea anymore.” You grumbled.

He made sure you watched his every chew and swallow while you had to keep yourself from faking an accidental death. You leaned on your side and made sure he wouldn’t hear your stomach starting to growl.

“Fine,” he groaned. “Here.”

A little over a quarter of the protein bar left. Jason handed it over to you.

“There’s barely anything left, asshole.”

“You want me to finish it?”

Snatching the bar away from him, you cursed under your breath right before you gobbled up what was left of the snack.

“You’re welcome.”

You threw the wrapper onto the floor. “Got any more bright ideas?”

You weren’t sure what to expect when Jason walked over to the shelves. Not that there was too much to expect, because what else could he do in a library, if not pull out a book, make himself comfortable on top of the tables, and read?

“You’re reading,” you bit your gums. “You’re actually reading at a time like this.”

“What else are we supposed to do in a fucking library?”

You threw your hands back on the surface and searched the ceiling for an alien UFO to come pick you up.

“We have at least until the power comes back on. GOD, this place is insufferable.”

“You shutting up would be enough not to drive me insane.”

“And you’re less of an ass when you’re not a grouch.”

“I’m ignoring you now.”

The vein on your forehead started to throb. You rolled around the table, desperate for any position that wouldn’t drive your limbs numb.

You jolted when you heard Jason curse.

“This fucking lamp post’s too dim. Can’t even see shit.”

He joined you in watching the ceiling. At this hour, it was too early to sleep, as if these conditions were any good for sleeping at all.

“How did we even get locked up?”

“Maybe if you didn’t keep me captive with that stupid clown project for three hours, we wouldn’t be in the mess.”

“You’re the one who fell asleep!”

“How could you have possibly missed the time? You know the library closes at five thirty!”

“I didn’t know that! I leave before that old witch does every time!”

“Just—" Jason shut his eyes. “Can we stop screaming for ONE SECOND? Especially since we’re here the whole night?!”

The mocking noise you made was almost inhuman.

You saw a car pass by, the headlights shining through the window for the shortest moment. Then you started waving like a marooned sailor on a lone island.

“HEY. GET US OUT OF HERE!”

The car kept moving, and the headlights shone against the glass walls until it was dark again.

“Fuck everything.”

You grabbed your bag, rummaging to find anything to do or anything that could possibly help you. Nothing.

“I’m so bored.”

“Bored. Hungry. Again, what in the ever-loving fuck do you expect me to do about any of that?” Jason said.

You brought your knees up to sit cross-legged, and you leaned in on your elbows.

“Wanna play a game?”

If there were someone outside the library, they for sure would’ve heard Jason groan into his sleeve. “Huh?”

You scooched closer to him and swung your legs over the edge of the table. “Give me your hand.”

“What?”

“Just give me your hand, Todd. Don’t be a pussy.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Then give me your hand.”

Jason did the same as you, leaning his elbow over his lap and stretching out his arm. You took it, smiling at him, then gripping firmly onto his wrist. “Make a fist.”

He fisted his hand, and you could see a few veins pop out on his arm. You started rubbing the outside of his fingers. His eyes scrunched up, watching you. “Open your hand.”

He opened it, then you lightly slapped it with your own palm. “Fist,” you said again. He breathed and pulled it again to a fist. You repeated your first action. “If I come out of this with one hand left-“

“Shut up. Open again.”

He opened his palm. And with a single finger, you tapped onto the center of his hand, then released your grip.

Jason widened his eyes, amused. “It tingles.”

“See.” You folded your arms.

“Where’d you learn to do that?”

“That’s a secret.”

He then reached out his other hand to you. “Do it again.”

You snorted before grabbing his wrist, rubbing his fingers the same way you did the first time. Jason leaned over closer to look at your movements, and his nose was all scrunched up like it would when he was focused on a book. The corner of your mouth lifted, then you tapped his hand with your finger and let go.

“I always knew you were a witch.”

You pinched his wrist and he smiled.

“You have any tricks of your own?”

“Yes I do,” he said, swinging his legs over the edge of the table. “Hold out your hand.”

You did as told. Jason held your fist, then looked straight at you. “Pick a finger and don’t tell me what it is.”

“Okay?” Your ring finger. Easy enough.

“Look straight into my eyes. Don’t look down.”

You scoffed, feeling something tighten in your throat. When you found the blue in his eyes amidst the darkness, you weren’t sure if it was easier to look away or keep staring.

You have no idea how he managed to stare at you that long without blinking, or how many seconds ticked away while he did.

You felt his hand creep in, a sudden gush of warmth, and start toying with your fingers.

“It’s your ring finger.”

“Huh,” you shuffled closer to him. “Do it again. I wanna watch your hands.”

“No. You have to look straight at my eyes.”

“Fine. Just do it again. I’ll pay more attention.”

His laugh, husky under his breath, made you smile in turn, and it almost killed you trying to hold back surging bursts of laughter when his hand continued to feather lightly over your fingers.

“You’re not choosing a finger,” he said.

“Not true. You just suck.”

It was true. You forgot to choose a finger.

The middle finger this time. You shifted your focus, but the way he tried to hold back from laughing made you choke. “Stop laughing.”

“I’m not.” He so was. His own fingers gently ran through the spaces of yours, moving around them one by one. “You’re trying to look for movements.”

“Nope. It’s the middle finger.” He kept at it. Over and over, with you refusing to admit he read your mind.

—–

You woke up to a bustling, screeching noise of a cart being hauled around the room. You’ve been here for five hours. You were tired, starving, and sweating off your pits. You covered most of your face and ears with your hands, but the cart’s noises just kept going.

You shot up from the table. “DUDE. STOP.”

You normally had more insults to scream at him, but at that point of the night, you were all out.

Jason kept going and ignored you. Starting from one end of the library, he pushed the handles of the empty cart, accelerating it with his feet. When he gained the momentum, he placed his feet on the metal and rode it across the room.

“Real mature.”

“Don’t be an old hag.”

He accelerated again from the opposite end, then climbed on. Jason went faster this time and just narrowly missed a shelf.

“There’s another cart right there if you have the balls to join me.”

You placed your weight on your arm, watching Jason sprint from one end of the room to the next. Knowing you wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway, you jumped off the table.

Then you emptied the cart and pushed it to Jason’s side, who waited for you just by the shelves. “Jump when it speeds up.”

“I know what to do.”

He laughed. “Race you.”

You gripped the handle firmly, watching the end of the room. “GO.”

You sprinted down the long hall, with the screws on the wheels just one wrong turn away from launching you into the air. The breeze tickled you, like Jason’s sleeve when your carts pushed too close together, then you stopped just before you hit the shelf. “I win.”

“Are you kidding me? I was waiting for you.”

“One more lap.”

“You’re on.”

Again, you sped past the room. You held onto one side of the handle too hard and accidentally hit Jason’s cart, both of you almost tumbling to the ground.

“Fuck!”

“You did that on purpose!”

You laughed, then pulled the cart up again to finish the lap. He caught up with you, and you no longer stopped when you turned, sprinting the cart across the room. You rode past the shelves, narrowly missing the books. You swerved before you hit the tables with the carts, then you eventually did hit a wall, hard enough to almost throw you off your feet.

That’s when he purposefully hit the front of your cart with your own, throwing you to the ground. “FUCK”

He laughed too hard.

“Come on. I have another game.”

He offered an outstretched hand, which you took. You just didn’t expect him to haul you up like you weighed the same as air, because you were launched another step forward, too close to his chest. You backed away before you could point out the body spray he liked to use.

Setting his own cart aside, he pulled on yours, settling it between the aisles of the shelves. “Hop on.”

“Todd, I swear if you throw me out the window-“

His face leaned in even closer to you. “I’m not gonna throw you out the window.”

“Really? Because I would.”

He turned so his face was close enough for you to feel his breath. “The glass is polycarbonate, so even if I were tothrow you out, it’ll be a failed attempt to escape. Instead, you’ll die of a concussion and I’ll be stuck with your rotting flesh until morning, which, you mentioned, isn’t very pleasant.”

You lightly slapped his arm and climbed into the cart, grabbing hold of the edges. “Fine, asshole.”

Jason leaned in to your ear. “Don’t scream.”

“JASON.”

He was incredibly strong, pushing you in the cart and speeding through the halls until you were crying. The cart growled like an ATV on an unpaved mountain path. If you hit so much as a rock, it would surely break apart. You shrieked out your vocal cords in a way Jason must never mention to anyone, ever.

But you were also laughing more than you probably did the past year when Jason turned you around and sped to the other end again. When the cart moved fast enough, his feet jumped onto metal.

You threw your head back, laughing, then you caught sight of his face, flashing the brightest smile you’ve ever seen.

Your laughter came to an abrupt stop when he stopped the cart too late and crashed into a shelf. You stood still, watching it toppling like an unsteady Jenga tower.

You heard books falling, holding your breath until the shaking mellowed down. You heaved once it stopped.

“JESUS CHRIST.”

“Not funny!” he cried out, but even he was stifling a laugh. He walked over to the mess and threw the fallen books into the cart with you.

“At least we have something to do now.”

“Yeah. Especially since you put these books in the wrong shelf. These belong over there.”

“Let’s fix it then,” you said, still not moving from the cart. He placed all the books from the floor onto you and moved the cart to the corner.

“You’re heavy.”

Even if you were, he carried you in that cart like you were as light as a mouse.

“Shut up. I like shelving books this way.” You took a book from your lap.

“Top shelf.”

“I know where to put them.” He took it from your hand and shoved it in place.

It was the most civil you two have ever been since you met.

You didn’t have many books to shelf. And after, when the cart was empty save for you, he continued to push and walk you around the library.

You stood up on your knees and faced him, hands on the handlebars he held. You were up to his eyes.

“Everything’s all good.”

“Because of me. You made a shit ton of mistakes.”

You slumped down. Even in the dark, you felt him lock into your eyes as he rested his chin on his hands to level with you.

“How’d you like Poe?”

His voice was so soft when he said that.

It often was when he talked about books.

You were hoping he would bring that up. You looked away. You couldn’t even look at him, fighting that burn in your stomach.

“I’ve read the book.”

“I saw.”

He tilted his head to the side. You wished he weren’t leaning down so you could look up without directly meeting his eyes.

“I’ve read each story… twice… maybe three times.”

He smiled again. Each time, it felt warmer in the room.

“You liked it?”

You nodded. “I do,” you cleared your throat, trying not to smile too hard. “I’m doing my paper on The Murder in the Rue Morgue.”

“Gruesome,” he chortled. “I knew you’d enjoy that.”

You faced away from him before his eyes would end up digging themselves into your corneas. You leaned against the back of the cart, your head lightly touching his arm.

When you’ve managed to tour the whole library, you finally stood up.

“You’re turn. Get in here.”

Jason wanted to laugh. “I weigh 180 pounds. You’ll never be able to lift me.”

“Watch me try.”

You hopped off the cart, pushing him aside from the handle. When you wouldn’t stop pulling at his shirt, he pinched your chin before eventually climbing on like you did. He was bigger than you, so he looked a lot more uncomfortable with his knees folded up to his chest and his arms having to rest outside the cart just because they wouldn’t fit.

One hundred eighty pounds of pure muscle was unsurprisingly heavy enough to almost snap your spine, but you managed. Pushing the cart slowly at first, Jason leaned to the left side to steer you off. “Jason!”

“I see stray books. Go over there.”

You did not work out enough to enjoy this. When you reached the desk, Jason took the books you previously set aside and placed them on his lap. “Braille,” he said. “These go all the way to the back. You give up?”

“I can handle this. I’m a big girl.”

You pushed the cart, eventually gaining speed, but it wasn’t even a fraction of how easily he pushed you. You reached the far back, with two sharp turns that nearly killed your arms, then stopped with a loud breath.

“You’re right. We should do this more often.”

You were panting by that time, and Jason handed you the books to place on the shelf. “Chop chop.”

—–

It was twelve am, and Jason Todd was about to go insane.

It wasn’t the dark that made him restless. And he didn’t have much to complain about sleeping on the tables when compared to wet, soggy roadside concrete.

It was everything else. Being trapped anywhere would be anyone’s nightmare.

But after the look Bruce had on his face when he caught Jason’s fist, just before Jason would have snapped a thug’s neck after one more punch, he wasn’t exactly looking forward to coming home that night anyway.

He couldn’t go on patrol. For the next few days. As if he wasn’t already in detention.

Life could be kinder. Or he could be kinder to life. Both of these were his own doing.

He badly needed a smoke.

Not here. The smell would stick to the books. He needed a window. And the only one that opened was way above the shelves, about fifteen feet up the glass wall.

He climbed up and budged the window open. Just the feel of the fresh air made him almost jizz his pants.

Jason reached for the cigarette pack and the lighter in his pocket, then he stuck the vice to his lips.

He was careful not to leave traces on the floor, or it would be another ten weeks of detention for both of you. Like cool fire in his lungs nipping at his throat, he inhaled.

Jason thought he was quiet enough not to wake you.

But before he managed a word, you climbed up the shelves to stand beside him, up on your toes, to look outside the open window. You didn’t flinch at the stench of his smoke in your direction.

He stared at you.

“I’d really prefer you step down from this shelf before it breaks and injures us both.”

You shrugged.

Then you held your hand out to him, two fingers together.

Jason wasn’t sure if he was surprised, nor that he should be, when it wasn’t surprising at all coming from you. You threw scissors at people and probably committed felonies. Of course, you smoked.

He took out a stick from his pack and handed it to you. You stuck it to your mouth, leaning over to him so he could light it.

Then you breathed the gray clouds out of your noses at the same time, looking out the window.

“Since when do you smoke?” he asked.

“Since I was twelve.” You laughed. “You?”

“Eleven.”

You breathed out your lips. Your breaths of smoke were shorter, softer. His had more force.

“Is your dad good to you?” you asked.

He couldn’t look at you, or at the sky where Batman could probably see him from.

“He is…”

He pinched the used-up stick with his fingers and pulled out another. You watched him light it.

“I’m the one who could be a better son.”

It took you longer to go through a stick than he did. You were barely halfway through.

“What about yours?”

You, on the other hand, could look him in the eye.

“No.”

Then you breathed out more than your lungs probably allowed you to. You didn’t have to say anything else. He knew enough not to ask.

“Have you ever dated anyone?” he asked.

You snorted through your nose.

“Why are you asking me that?”

“Because I can’t imagine you… dating.”

“Well, I haven’t.”

Then you finally finished one stick. He gave you another and helped you light it. His finger touched your lip.

“How many guys have asked you out?”

You laughed the smoke out of your mouth. “You assume I get asked out.”

“I mean,” he scratched his neck. “There’s gotta be some.”

Your eyebrow was on your forehead.

“I was told I scare them away.”

“Guys are too scared to ask you out?” he coughed some smoke. “What are you, Medusa?”

“I could be,” you breathed. “I don’t really care.”

He shouldn’t have laughed, but he did. And he caught you grinning, too.

Jason could look out the window comfortably on his flat feet, while you had to tiptoe just to reach the gap for the smoke to blow out.

He hadn’t smoked with anybody at all. Not in his life. Not in the streets. Not in the manor. This was the first time he lit someone else’s cigarette with his lighter. It was nice.

“You a virgin?”

His throat closed mid-inhale, and the smoke stuck to his esophagus. He hacked his neck off until he almost fell off the shelf.

“What?”

Your voice might have been easier on the ears when you weren’t screaming, but dammit, did you ask the most horrific questions.

“I don’t… I’m… I just…” he pulled on the skin of his throat, looking everywhere but you.

But you were chuckling as if you already knew the answer.

“Calm down, I’m messing with you.”

He saw the smoke you blew out fly out the window until it met the smoke he breathed out. They balled up into one grey cloud until they dispersed into the cold.

---

Two fucking am. The power was still out. Jason might actually use his Wayne kid connections and yell at the electricity company when he gets out of here. You were sitting cross-legged on one end of the long, narrow table, fiddling with your sleeves since you couldn’t sleep. Jason laid down on the same table, but faced the opposite way on the other end. His back was going to kill him in the morning, but after the smoke relaxed his muscles, his body finally gave out.

Jason laid his head on his bicep, turning to the shadows.

Then a warm, soothing melody started to hum, a voice he’d never heard before.

Nothing in the dark could be the source. Jason craned his head up and realized it came from you.

You turned to him, and he went back to covering his eyes with his arm, pretending to sleep.

“Jason?” you lightly asked, soft enough not to wake him if he was actually asleep. You turned your back around and crouched over.

With you thinking he wasn’t conscious, he heard you start to sing.

‘You got a fast car

I want a ticket to anywhere

Maybe we make a deal

Maybe together we can get somewhere

Anyplace is better

Starting from zero got nothing to lose

Maybe we’ll make something

Me, myself I got nothing to prove’

Then you paused. Your voice was a whisper. If there were anyone else in that room talking, it would’ve been easy to miss it.

And you never would’ve sung if you knew Jason wasn’t asleep.

You had the most beautiful voice he had ever heard in his life.

‘You got a fast car

I got a plan to get us out of here

I been working at the convenience store

Managed to save just a little bit of money

Won’t have to drive too far

Just ‘cross the border and into the city

You and I can both get jobs

And finally see what it means to be living’

Your voice was low: a beautiful, husky low. You were sultry. And there was that deep breath when you reached the lower notes with ease. And there was that drowsy, slow drag to it that sounded effortless out of your lips.

It was a miracle that your everyday screaming never affected your vocal cords at all.

His face was on fire. He was wide awake, and there was something thudding against his ribcage hard enough to make him choke without the smoke in his throat. And it worsened every time you sang a note low enough to whisper, making him shiver with his hair stiffened and still.

You finished the song.

You didn’t sing anything more for the rest of the night, and he wished you would. He ended up staying up longer, fighting his tiredness, just in case he’d miss another song.

Could your smoking possibly damage this? Because if it did, you should stop.

---

Three am.

He woke up to your shivering.

Your arms were over your stomach, clawing at your skin with your nails.

He forgot to shut the window after he smoked. And the wind had crept its way in through the small gap. And he didn’t notice the cold, not with him being used to so much worse. The library didn’t have a blanket or a curtain to wrap yourself with.

Jason forced his body to stand on the floor, no matter how much his weight was pulling him down to collapse. He was so tired. This was his second night without sleep.

But Jason lugged himself to the window and climbed up the shelf even when shots of black would flash over his eyes. He pulled on the handle and shut it closed, careful not to fall.

The cold probably wouldn’t subside for a while.

Then he walked over to take his leather jacket from his backpack.

As he did, another uneaten protein bar fell from his pocket.

He was so hungry.

But so were you.

Jason laid his jacket carefully over your sleeping form so you wouldn’t wake, then left the protein bar near your face so it would be the first thing you’d see.

Just as he nestled onto the table again, he heard you wake up.

He didn’t bother to look up, pretending to sleep while listening to you unwrap the protein bar and eat it.

Then he slept.

Another hour later, with it still dark, his eyes opened.

You left him a quarter of the protein bar on the table in front of his face—like he did for you. And you left him the exact amount he gave you earlier that night.

Your sense of humor was sweet when it wasn’t so twisted. He wanted to laugh, but didn’t want to wake you.

When he looked up, you were asleep, wearing his jacket properly with your arms through the sleeves. You looked warm, comfortable, tucking your lips under the collar. And you were no longer shivering.

And he noticed you scooted over closer to his head, just enough that your hair tickled his when he moved.

—–

Twelve hours.

You were stuck in the library.

For twelve fucking hours.

You shot up from the table the moment you heard the chains outside the door fall to the ground. You and Jason raced out the door, and before the janitor could open it, you violently pushed it aside and raced out into the wide-open space of the driveway outside the gates. The poor janitor looked puzzlingly at you. But since he was too old to care or even ask about what happened, he shrugged it off.

The cool air felt heavenly against your skin, and the bright sun smiled back against your face. You spread your arms out and took in the fresh air as much as you could. Jason looked like he wanted to kneel on the ground and kiss the floor.

He screamed. And you did the same.

“THAT IS NEVER HAPPENING AGAIN.”

“NEVER.”

It was the first time you got a good look at his face when he smiled in the daylight.

“Don’t tell anyone about this.”

“Agreed,” you said. “Not even our parents.”

“Not a single soul.”

Your body felt light. Your chest felt lighter. You were smiling at him, too.

Thank fuck, a janitor still came over on a Saturday, otherwise you would’ve been stuck there until Monday.

The beautiful, pink morning sky welcomed you. The driveway never looked so clean, and the breeze was so wonderfully cold, with the autumn leaves still floating on the grass and the roads. You were happy. Then you caught yourself in a lingering gaze on Jason as he headed towards his bike.

“Walk safe.”

“Bye, Todd.”

You couldn’t stop grinning as you walked towards opposite ends of the sidewalk, hands on your sides and not in your pockets like you usually would.

Sparing one last glance behind you, seeing him get on his motorcycle, you turned to the corner of the street.

You didn’t notice until Jason disappeared into the ends of the high road that you were still wearing his leather jacket. You weren’t sure if he noticed, either.

He should have noticed.

---

TAGLIST:

@littleredwing89 @pricetagofficial @l-inkage @offendedfishnoises @bungunz @boosyboo9206 @estrela-rogers @americasmarauders @lucy-roo @satan-s-ass @shadowsndaisies @deadbeatphobos @thesunxxtodd @insideoutjulie

[batarella]

I Don't Hate You - Remastered - Chapter 3 (Jason Todd x Reader Series)

You're the meanest girl in school. Everyone is terrified of you. But when you're sentenced to ten weeks of detention at the school's library with another brooding troublemaker, Jason Todd, you find out there is, in fact, at least one guy on earth who isn't afraid of you.

And you hate that.

IDHY REMASTERED EDITION: GENERAL REVISIONS, NEW DIALOGUE, BONUS CONTENT, AND EXTENDED SCENES.

A/N: When I originally wrote this chapter, this was when the story finally took shape, and I had an idea where to go. It was also the first time I wrote 7000 words in one night, and i got more and more into it until I wrote 15k words in one night for the Bullet. So this chapter means a lot to me. It was so fun to write. I hope you have fun reading it as well. I added around 3 new scenes in this chapter other than the rewrites!

WORDS: 8700

WARNINGS: SMOKING, MENTIONS OF DOMESTIC ABUSE/PARENTS YELLING, MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE

MASTERLIST

----

Bad boy on a bike incoming.

You knew the stigma around being ‘the guy who punched another student in the face’ wouldn’t last a week. A repulsive warning eventually mutated into a forgivable character flaw.

But only when it was an attractive, brooding male who came to school on a motorbike.

You sat on the steps next to Penny at the early hours of school. You never knew at what point you could pick out the thunder of Jason’s ride over every other vehicle in that parking lot, but you did. Maybe because it came with giggles and fawns over from the kids watching him swing his leg over the seat and remove his helmet.

The leather jacket really tied it all together.

“He’s so hot,” Penny sighed.

You rolled your eyes but didn’t disagree.

Just last week, all they whispered about was how disgusting and possibly demented Jason was after breaking another student’s nose. Then Brandon thought telling everyone he was a street kid would make them feel more disgusted, when all it ended up doing was spur on more talk about how he got out of the streets.

Which led them to finding out Jason was adopted by the wealthiest man in Gotham.

Now they looked at him like he was 90’s Johnny Depp.

His head was down, then he caught the eyes of his smiling onlookers. He nodded back.

And when he caught your eye, seeing you reading the book he gave you a week ago, the smirk on his face looked diabolical.

Jason walked closer to where you sat on the steps. And without stopping, he reached over and pinched your cheek.

You slapped him in the arm, and you heard him cackle into the hallways.

---

The old woman wouldn’t be startled even if you threw a grenade at her face.

Your hands fell flat on Ms. Peterson’s desk, then you shook to enforce a claim on her attention. When she did look up, you flashed the brightest fake smile your cheeks allowed you to. The old woman’s outdated computer buzzed from her fifth round of solitaire for the day, which meant it was as perfect a time to bother her as poking the arm of a doctor doing heart surgery.

But you’d been in the library for twenty minutes, and all you’d done was count the pieces of lint stuck to your hair and kick Jason’s shin from underneath the table until he looked like he wanted to kill you. You didn’t know which was worse: doing actual work in the library or not doing anything at all.

“Listen, Ms. Peterson. As much as we love hanging out in this outdated hellhole, I’d rather we go home than sit here and do nothing for the next hour and a half.”

Ms. Peterson wouldn’t look away from her screen. “I’m told to keep you in here for another seven weeks. I’ve had this job for fifty years, and I’m not about to lose it to two whiny brats.”

“She’s the only whiny brat here, Ms. P.” Jason placed his elbows on the desk and leaned over beside you. “If you let us out, it’ll be our little secret. C’mon.”

That trickery must work for Jason if it were anyone else in school, but Ms. Peterson had the same soulless look in her eye when she turned her head at the young man.

“Sit. Down.”

“What are we supposed to do?”

“I don’t care. Just get your asses on those chairs and sit. Look! A person in need of service. There’s your job. Go do it.”

Someone was behind you, and you made sure he knew how much of an annoyance he was when you turned and almost growled through your gritted teeth. Jason turned as well, looking just as irritated. 

The sight of you both made him almost piss his pants.

“Uhm,” he gulped. “Can you please show me where sci-fi books are?”

With a heavy breath out of your nose, you glanced at your nails before nudging Jason with your shoulder. He grunted, giving you that ‘I really fucking hate you’ look on his face that was practically branded onto his skin since the first time he heard your voice. You refused to look up at either of them.

Jason groaned. “Go through that aisle. Third shelf from the right.”

“He asked you to go with him, Todd.”

He looked like he wanted to bury you alive in the piles of books. “He can find it himself.”

The poor guy was quick to agree. He ran away, making sure not to look you in the eye.

You both slumped back on the empty table. Jason’s head fell on his crossed arms resting over the surface, and his hair was all sprawled out. You leaned back, head hanging on your neck, and shut your eyes, hoping the clock would go faster if you pretended not to look at it.

It didn’t.

Three weeks in this shithole. And you were far from being halfway through. Why couldn’t you have just punched Maxwell in the face? Or threatened to murder him in his sleep? Soon enough, you’d prefer being thrown into Belle Reve than a dusty library with an old woman worse than a prison guard and a boy who loved to pick at your flesh all the way down to the bone.

You could look at the glass walls out of the library, or find a book and actually read one of them.

Or you could stare at the eye candy in front of you.

Jason was cute when he wasn’t yelling at you for shoving Jane Austen books in the Horror section.

You realized biceps had to be that huge for veins to pop out of them. His thick, black hair was long enough to cover most of his forehead. And you noticed he liked to wear thin shirts so he wouldn’t sweat too much under the leather jacket he wore outside, so even more lean muscles would pop out when he’d unintentionally flex.

He wasn’t absolutely huge, since he was just 17. But he likely had a workout routine more intensive than the entire football team combined.

You wouldn’t mind looking at that for a while. Not until he starts talking, anyway.

You kicked his shin under the table for the seventh time that day. He jumped, startled, scowling at you through dark bags under his eyes.

“The fuck do you want now?”

“Someone’s crabby.”

He heaved his chest and leaned all the way back against his chair, spreading out his arms behind his head to stretch.

Even his veins had veins.

“I couldn’t sleep last night.” Jason leaned back over the table. “You done gawking?”

“Cute.” You scrunched up your face to mock him. “I’m bored.”

“And what am I supposed to do with that?”

“Help me sneak out of here.”

“It’s been two weeks. You think I haven’t tried sneaking out a few times? That woman’s got the eyes of a fucking hawk.”

“Is there any other way out of here?”

“I doubt it. All those windows are just pieces of glass bolted to the wall. The only windows that do open are those tiny ones on top.”

Your groan hurt your throat. And your phone was no less exhausted than you were.

“I’m at three percent.”

Jason took out his own phone. “Mine’s at five.”

“That blackout from last night reached your monster mansion, too?”

He rolled his eyes. “Bruce has generators to power up the whole city if he wanted to.”

“Then why are you at five percent?”

“Because I’ve been tinkering on this sorry little fucker for the last thirty minutes.” He held it up with just his fingers. It had a cracked screen. It looked too old to even be used. “Battery drains faster than my patience.”

“Can’t your rich dad buy you another one?”

“He did. I don’t wanna use it. Doesn’t feel like mine.”

“Ah. You’re one of those guys. ‘My parents are rich, not me’ kind of dudes. You’re all the same kinds of annoying.”

“I’m adopted, which makes it less annoying.”

“Don’t you want to enjoy his money at least a little?”

“I like his gym.”

You sure look like you do.

You turned away before he’d catch your eyes darting over his bicep again, and you caught the eye of Maxwell, who had a sling on his arm still.

“Holy fuck,” you reached for your bag. “I can’t believe I forgot.”

“What?”

Pouring out the contents, you mumbled. “Help me with this and I owe you my life.”

“I think watching you wallow in your misery would be more worth my time.”

“You’re taking after my vocabulary, Todd. Good. And I’d say likewise if I wasn’t so desperate.” You started pouring out pieces of paper, a bottle of glue, and a pair of the largest scissors Jason’s ever seen.

“Is that-“

“The scissors that sent that guy to the nurse?” You pointed at Maxwell. “Yes. Yes, they are.”

“Jesus.” He took it from the table. “This thing’s a military-grade weapon.”

“Stop ogling and help me.”

“What the fuck are you supposed to do?”

“Remember the project that kid spilled his coffee on? This is it. I finished it that day, and now I have to do it all over again. They gave me another two weeks to do it and I completely forgot about it until now. I’m supposed to make a stained-glass kind of picture. But with cutting pieces of colored paper.”

Jason took the paper you had on the table. They were all white, black, gray, and one sheet that’s dark red.

“There are other colors that don’t induce depression, you know.”

You shrugged. “I like working with those colors. Now help me. I wanna do this.” You pulled out your phone and showed him a saved photo of one you’d like to copy. He almost jumped out of his seat when you suddenly showed him a picture of a deranged clown with a big red nose, a smile much larger than half his face, and eyes dark and dwelling enough to give him nightmares.

“I wanna know what type of dark shit you’re on.”

“It’s just a clown.”

“I am not helping you with your little art project.”

“Please.” Your hands were down, eyes widened. And your voice; you were sure he’d never heard you speak that softly.

The bags under his eyes twitched, the shadows in them imprinting on you. That jaw looked like it hurt being flexed like that.

He looked at the clock. Then back at you with his eyeballs rolled all the way around.

“You’re lucky I literally have nothing better to do.”

You gave him a black piece of paper and a pair of scissors. “Great. Cut these into the shapes I drew here.”

He snatched them from your hands. If he gritted his teeth any tighter, they’d likely break. You just smiled back. “Thanks, Jay.”

“Shut up and get to work.”

If only annoying this boy wasn’t the most entertaining part of detention, maybe you’d do it less often.

“What’s making you so grumpy today?”

He didn’t bother looking up at you. His eyelids looked like they were about to shut closed as he cut the black piece of paper.

“I told you. I didn’t get to sleep last night. I was… out.”

“But we’re not supposed to go partying on school nights,” you mocked.

“I’m sorry, I forgot I was talking to Hermione Granger and not Chucky’s bride.”

“Funny.”

“No. I was not out partying.”

“Then where did you go?”

“I’m not answering that question.”

“You’re even crabbier than I am today,” you snorted.

Carefully, he went through the first paper and gave you the shapes you wanted. You set aside your own batch and took out the larger, white paper on which you’d glue it all.

“Okay. Give me the shapes.”

You took out the glue and started pouring it on the paper.

“You’re doing it all wrong.”

“I know what I’m doing.”

“You clearly don’t.” He snatched it from you and started wiping the glue off with his finger, spreading it around. “I can’t believe I’m fucking doing this.”

“And what are you doing exactly?” you snarled.

“Pouring the glue in like that will make it all sticky. You should’ve traced over the outer lines so it wouldn’t crumple.”

He wiped his glue-covered fingers all over your sleeve, and you almost pummeled him onto the table. It took that to make him laugh for the first time that day.

“I know that.” You took the glue away from him again, then placed the shape onto the paper. “One down.”

“Fucking kill me now.”

“Keep cutting. I’ll handle the glue.”

“Then do it right.”

You stuck your tongue out at him. He started again with your scissors and went back to snipping off the pieces of paper. Gluing the shapes one by one, you started taking out a red marker and traced the outlines to mimic the flow of blood.

Jason stared at it, then at you.

“They need to arrest you. In Arkham Asylum.”

“Shut up.”

“Excuse me.” A girl went up to you. “That lady told me you could show me to the young adult section?”

“No.”

You kept with your glue, not even looking at the girl who just stared at you awkwardly. Jason pinched the bridge of his nose and almost sighed out his lungs. “Go down that aisle. Fifth shelf. Down the very end.”

“Uh. Thanks.” She walked over to where Jason was pointing. You still didn’t look up from your work.

“You need to chill,” he said.

“Says you. Finish those up. That’s the last one.”

Jason’s eyes were going to strain with the amount of rolling they did that day.

He violently cut the clown’s big red nose, before dropping the scissors when you started gluing the pieces together.

He gave you no warning before grabbing the glue bottle from you and the shapes, stretching his arm out so you can’t reach them.

“TODD.”

“YOU’RE RUINING THE WHOLE THING.”

“NO, I’M NOT.” 

“YOU ARE. AND I DON’T WANNA DO THIS ALL OVER AGAIN.”

You cursed and stood up from your chair, reaching out with your arms all the way to him while he wiped off the excess glue.

“GIVE THAT BACK.”

“SIT DOWN.” 

You heard the shrillest shush Ms. Peterson has ever made, before you went back to fumbling with Jason. Your table was at the far end, and she was no longer in your line of sight. He held your wrist, wiping off the rest of the glue, then finally handed the bottle back to you. Putting the shapes onto the paper, you groaned when you slumped back on the chair.

“It looks horrible,” he tried to stifle a laugh.

“Fuck you.”

“At least you’re almost done, right?”

“You put the glue on the shapes then, genius. I’ll paste them on.”

Grumbling with his deep voice, he took the glue bottle and swiped the shapes back over to him. Using thin, barely visible lines, he was so stingy with the glue that you wanted to tear your hair out.

“That won’t even stick to a fucking fly trap.”

“You want your work to look like a wrinkly old man’s balls?”

“Just put a bit more.”

“I have the fucking glue bottle,” his eyebrows were raised. “You sit there and wait for me, then you stick them yourself. Start with this.”

He slammed a shape onto the table, and you took it, careful not to hit your fingers with the glue.

It was a miracle you went this far at all without any fingers down anyone’s eye sockets.

“YOU’RE THE ONE WHO CUT THEM, DINGUS.”

“HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW THE RIGHT FUCKING SIZE.”

“I GAVE YOU THE PATTERN. YOU ONLY HAD TO FOLLOW IT.”

“WELL, I WOULD HAVE IF YOUR SCISSORS WEREN’T THE SIZE OF GRASS CUTTERS.”

“THEY’RE THE BEST PAIR IN THE WORLD. YOU JUST CAN’T HANDLE IT.”

“I THINK I CAN HANDLE A PAIR OF SCISSORS.”

“THEN WHY DO YOU CUT LIKE YOU’RE SEVEN?”

“’CUZ SEVEN-YEAR-OLDS DON’T HAVE A FUCKING PARAKEET SCREAMING AT THEM EVERY FIVE GODDAMN MINUTES.”

Ms. Peterson would’ve thrown her slipper at you if she hadn’t gone out to the bathroom.

Everyone else had left. It was almost 5 pm, and you refused to go if your project wasn’t finished.

“This. Is. The worst day. Of my entire life. And I used to live in the streets.”

“You’re not going anywhere. Stay.”

He had a hunch on his back when his face fell to his hands, slumping over the table. “Why can’t you just kill me?”

The second set of cut shapes was just the right size, and the whole thing looked decent. Jason didn’t bother looking up. And when you allowed yourself to be quiet for the longest time that day, he fell asleep, drooling on the table. You used the last of your battery health to snap a picture.

No one was left in the library, and it was just starting to get dark.

“Aaaaand THERE.” You placed the finished project on the table and clapped your hands together. Jason woke up, looking like a zombie awakened.

“You may go.”

“You owe me fucking big time.”

You flashed a grin as he violently pushed his chair back, grabbed his backpack and headed to the door. You took your time. Nothing at home made you want to head back, even at this hour.

Not until Dad would fall asleep and you could walk in without hearing an earful.

You carefully slipped your collage into your folder and slung your bag over your shoulder.

Jason was still standing in front of the door, hand frozen on the handle.

It wasn’t budging.

You shoved him aside and turned it yourself, only for your hand to come to an abrupt stop and the sound of gears refusing to turn.

“Where the fuck is Mother Goose?”

“The bathroom-“

But she wasn’t in the bathroom. Unless Ms. Peterson took her large purse and computer along with her to the toilet, she probably wasn’t in there.

“Are we-“

“There has to be a key here.” Jason rummaged through the librarian’s desk. Every drawer he could forcefully pull out, he did.

You pulled out your phone, which was a dead 0%, the image of a drained-out battery staring back at you. Panic would soon settle in, though you could refuse it a home.

You rushed to the library’s old telephone, but you couldn’t even hear a dial tone. The phone was off. Jason’s phone was probably just as dead.

You rushed to the lights to turn them on, but nothing happened.

Fuck. Another blackout. FUCK.

“No key,” he almost fell over the table. “Shit. FUCK.”

You only stared at each other, feeling your heart rise to your neck as every option you could think of sounded as ridiculous as the last.

“The window?”

Jason leaped to the shelves with impeccable speed and strength. You’d wonder more about his workout routine if you weren’t starting to sweat off your pits. He climbed where he could stand on the shelves and reach for the windows above the walls of glass. The windows were small enough that they only budged open a couple inches, barely enough to even reach a hand in.

His limbs were flailing when he jumped onto the floor.

“M-Maybe. Your dad will come pick us up?”

Jason shook his head.

“Something… happened last night… and he, uh, got really mad at me and told me I couldn’t come with him to… his workplace tonight… which he’ll be at until dawn…”

“Won’t he look for you, at least?”

“He… knows exactly where I am… all the time… If he sees I’m still in school, he won’t be too worried.”

You weren’t sure you understood. But it didn’t matter if it wouldn’t help.

“Your parents?”

You gulped. “I ran away last night for a few hours. When I came back, Dad told me he wouldn’t look for me anymore if I did it again today.”

Your back hit the wall, and you slid down with your head up in the ceiling. Both silent. None of you even said it out loud.

Jason looked like he wanted to scream.

—–

You laid on your back flat against the table, with your arm over your eyes to shield them from the light posts outside the window on the driveway, your only source of light now that the sun had left you alone in that library like everyone else. You tried to drown out Jason’s fiddling with his lock pick and the door handle. It was barely into the evening, and you were about to pass out.

“That’s not gonna work.”

“You got a better option, Lydia Deetz?”

You clenched your jaw. “You’ve been at it for an hour.”

“I’m almost through this.” He kept with his pick, a hairpin he found on the ground, which he spent another hour looking for. “THERE!”

You shot up from the table, leaping onto the floor as you sprinted to Jason’s back. “Here’s to freedom.”

Too eagerly, he turned the handle and pulled the door.

Only for his hand to jolt at another abrupt stop. The door wouldn’t open, only peering through an inch. The high sank like a man jumping off a plane without a parachute, and he almost fell out of his feet when you violently pushed him away again, pulling on the door yourself and failing.

You could see the deadbolt, but something outside was holding the double doors from opening, no matter which one you pulled on.

“That batshit crazy old witch,” you growled. “Fucking chain locked the door.”

Jason threw the hairpin to the ground like he would’ve a knife. “WHO CHAIN LOCKS A LIBRARY?”’

You walked away from the door, going back to the tables so you could bend over and stuff your face into your hands. Jason was even more of a mess.

Last night, you wished your room were a whole apartment building away from your parents. Your head throbbed from how harshly you pulled at your pillows into your ears in an attempt to drown out the screams. It wasn’t enough. That night, you wished you were somewhere else, anywhere at all, that wasn’t your home. Now you ended up somewhere even worse.

Jason fell on the floor, back flat against the wall, and his eyes were shut while you collapsed on top of the table.

“I’m hungry.”

“The fuck you want me to do about that?” Jason kept his eyes shut.

“You got any food?”

“No.”

“Don’t you have something in your bag?”

“No.”

“Any candy or gum?”

“No.”

“Can you check?”

“You think you can stab me with those scissors? ‘Cuz I feel like choking on my own blood right now.”

You rolled over so you were laying on your stomach. Craning your head up to look at Jason with your chin resting on your fingers, you grinned. “I’d rather not spend the night being stuck with your rotting flesh. I’ll kill you in the morning.”

Jason screamed into his hands. “We are not gonna be stuck here until morning.”

“Either you die tonight still in denial, or we actually try to survive. Now do you have anything in your bag?”

He didn’t give in to picking through his bag without flipping you off. The sky was completely dark by now. And the only light source you had was three lamp posts outside the window. The power was still off, which meant it was going to be this dark the whole fucking night.

“Would you look at that?” He took out a small protein bar from his smaller pocket. “Forgot that was there.”

You jumped off the table again. “Great. I’m starving.”

You walked too fast to Jason, who immediately stood up and held you by the shoulder, raising his hand away from your reach. “Ey. Mine. From my bag, remember?”

“I don’t have anything in mine!” you reached and tried to push him, but had no luck against his strength. “Come on!”

“I have way more body mass than you. I need this.”

More body mass meant more meat for you to chop up when you inevitably leave him to the wolves. He kept pushing your shoulder from him until you backed away reluctantly.

“WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO EAT?”

You threw yourself against the wall. Jason opened the protein bar, took a large bite, and left behind almost a third of the whole thing.

“You know. That thing with the scissors stuck into your neck doesn’t seem like a bad idea anymore.” You grumbled.

He made sure you watched his every chew and swallow while you had to keep yourself from faking an accidental death. You leaned on your side and made sure he wouldn’t hear your stomach starting to growl.

“Fine,” he groaned. “Here.”

A little over a quarter of the protein bar left. Jason handed it over to you.

“There’s barely anything left, asshole.”

“You want me to finish it?”

Snatching the bar away from him, you cursed under your breath right before you gobbled up what was left of the snack.

“You’re welcome.”

You threw the wrapper onto the floor. “Got any more bright ideas?”

You weren’t sure what to expect when Jason walked over to the shelves. Not that there was too much to expect, because what else could he do in a library, if not pull out a book, make himself comfortable on top of the tables, and read?

“You’re reading,” you bit your gums. “You’re actually reading at a time like this.”

“What else are we supposed to do in a fucking library?”

You threw your hands back on the surface and searched the ceiling for an alien UFO to come pick you up.

“We have at least until the power comes back on. GOD, this place is insufferable.”

“You shutting up would be enough not to drive me insane.”

“And you’re less of an ass when you’re not a grouch.”

“I’m ignoring you now.”

The vein on your forehead started to throb. You rolled around the table, desperate for any position that wouldn’t drive your limbs numb.

You jolted when you heard Jason curse.

“This fucking lamp post’s too dim. Can’t even see shit.”

He joined you in watching the ceiling. At this hour, it was too early to sleep, as if these conditions were any good for sleeping at all.

“How did we even get locked up?”

“Maybe if you didn’t keep me captive with that stupid clown project for three hours, we wouldn’t be in the mess.”

“You’re the one who fell asleep!”

“How could you have possibly missed the time? You know the library closes at five thirty!”

“I didn’t know that! I leave before that old witch does every time!”

“Just—" Jason shut his eyes. “Can we stop screaming for ONE SECOND? Especially since we’re here the whole night?!”

The mocking noise you made was almost inhuman.

You saw a car pass by, the headlights shining through the window for the shortest moment. Then you started waving like a marooned sailor on a lone island.

“HEY. GET US OUT OF HERE!”

The car kept moving, and the headlights shone against the glass walls until it was dark again.

“Fuck everything.”

You grabbed your bag, rummaging to find anything to do or anything that could possibly help you. Nothing.

“I’m so bored.”

“Bored. Hungry. Again, what in the ever-loving fuck do you expect me to do about any of that?” Jason said.

You brought your knees up to sit cross-legged, and you leaned in on your elbows.

“Wanna play a game?”

If there were someone outside the library, they for sure would’ve heard Jason groan into his sleeve. “Huh?”

You scooched closer to him and swung your legs over the edge of the table. “Give me your hand.”

“What?”

“Just give me your hand, Todd. Don’t be a pussy.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Then give me your hand.”

Jason did the same as you, leaning his elbow over his lap and stretching out his arm. You took it, smiling at him, then gripping firmly onto his wrist. “Make a fist.”

He fisted his hand, and you could see a few veins pop out on his arm. You started rubbing the outside of his fingers. His eyes scrunched up, watching you. “Open your hand.”

He opened it, then you lightly slapped it with your own palm. “Fist,” you said again. He breathed and pulled it again to a fist. You repeated your first action. “If I come out of this with one hand left-“

“Shut up. Open again.”

He opened his palm. And with a single finger, you tapped onto the center of his hand, then released your grip.

Jason widened his eyes, amused. “It tingles.”

“See.” You folded your arms.

“Where’d you learn to do that?”

“That’s a secret.”

He then reached out his other hand to you. “Do it again.”

You snorted before grabbing his wrist, rubbing his fingers the same way you did the first time. Jason leaned over closer to look at your movements, and his nose was all scrunched up like it would when he was focused on a book. The corner of your mouth lifted, then you tapped his hand with your finger and let go.

“I always knew you were a witch.”

You pinched his wrist and he smiled.

“You have any tricks of your own?”

“Yes I do,” he said, swinging his legs over the edge of the table. “Hold out your hand.”

You did as told. Jason held your fist, then looked straight at you. “Pick a finger and don’t tell me what it is.”

“Okay?” Your ring finger. Easy enough.

“Look straight into my eyes. Don’t look down.”

You scoffed, feeling something tighten in your throat. When you found the blue in his eyes amidst the darkness, you weren’t sure if it was easier to look away or keep staring.

You have no idea how he managed to stare at you that long without blinking, or how many seconds ticked away while he did.

You felt his hand creep in, a sudden gush of warmth, and start toying with your fingers.

“It’s your ring finger.”

“Huh,” you shuffled closer to him. “Do it again. I wanna watch your hands.”

“No. You have to look straight at my eyes.”

“Fine. Just do it again. I’ll pay more attention.”

His laugh, husky under his breath, made you smile in turn, and it almost killed you trying to hold back surging bursts of laughter when his hand continued to feather lightly over your fingers.

“You’re not choosing a finger,” he said.

“Not true. You just suck.”

It was true. You forgot to choose a finger.

The middle finger this time. You shifted your focus, but the way he tried to hold back from laughing made you choke. “Stop laughing.”

“I’m not.” He so was. His own fingers gently ran through the spaces of yours, moving around them one by one. “You’re trying to look for movements.”

“Nope. It’s the middle finger.” He kept at it. Over and over, with you refusing to admit he read your mind.

—–

You woke up to a bustling, screeching noise of a cart being hauled around the room. You’ve been here for five hours. You were tired, starving, and sweating off your pits. You covered most of your face and ears with your hands, but the cart’s noises just kept going.

You shot up from the table. “DUDE. STOP.”

You normally had more insults to scream at him, but at that point of the night, you were all out.

Jason kept going and ignored you. Starting from one end of the library, he pushed the handles of the empty cart, accelerating it with his feet. When he gained the momentum, he placed his feet on the metal and rode it across the room.

“Real mature.”

“Don’t be an old hag.”

He accelerated again from the opposite end, then climbed on. Jason went faster this time and just narrowly missed a shelf.

“There’s another cart right there if you have the balls to join me.”

You placed your weight on your arm, watching Jason sprint from one end of the room to the next. Knowing you wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway, you jumped off the table.

Then you emptied the cart and pushed it to Jason’s side, who waited for you just by the shelves. “Jump when it speeds up.”

“I know what to do.”

He laughed. “Race you.”

You gripped the handle firmly, watching the end of the room. “GO.”

You sprinted down the long hall, with the screws on the wheels just one wrong turn away from launching you into the air. The breeze tickled you, like Jason’s sleeve when your carts pushed too close together, then you stopped just before you hit the shelf. “I win.”

“Are you kidding me? I was waiting for you.”

“One more lap.”

“You’re on.”

Again, you sped past the room. You held onto one side of the handle too hard and accidentally hit Jason’s cart, both of you almost tumbling to the ground.

“Fuck!”

“You did that on purpose!”

You laughed, then pulled the cart up again to finish the lap. He caught up with you, and you no longer stopped when you turned, sprinting the cart across the room. You rode past the shelves, narrowly missing the books. You swerved before you hit the tables with the carts, then you eventually did hit a wall, hard enough to almost throw you off your feet.

That’s when he purposefully hit the front of your cart with your own, throwing you to the ground. “FUCK”

He laughed too hard.

“Come on. I have another game.”

He offered an outstretched hand, which you took. You just didn’t expect him to haul you up like you weighed the same as air, because you were launched another step forward, too close to his chest. You backed away before you could point out the body spray he liked to use.

Setting his own cart aside, he pulled on yours, settling it between the aisles of the shelves. “Hop on.”

“Todd, I swear if you throw me out the window-“

His face leaned in even closer to you. “I’m not gonna throw you out the window.”

“Really? Because I would.”

He turned so his face was close enough for you to feel his breath. “The glass is polycarbonate, so even if I were tothrow you out, it’ll be a failed attempt to escape. Instead, you’ll die of a concussion and I’ll be stuck with your rotting flesh until morning, which, you mentioned, isn’t very pleasant.”

You lightly slapped his arm and climbed into the cart, grabbing hold of the edges. “Fine, asshole.”

Jason leaned in to your ear. “Don’t scream.”

“JASON.”

He was incredibly strong, pushing you in the cart and speeding through the halls until you were crying. The cart growled like an ATV on an unpaved mountain path. If you hit so much as a rock, it would surely break apart. You shrieked out your vocal cords in a way Jason must never mention to anyone, ever.

But you were also laughing more than you probably did the past year when Jason turned you around and sped to the other end again. When the cart moved fast enough, his feet jumped onto metal.

You threw your head back, laughing, then you caught sight of his face, flashing the brightest smile you’ve ever seen.

Your laughter came to an abrupt stop when he stopped the cart too late and crashed into a shelf. You stood still, watching it toppling like an unsteady Jenga tower.

You heard books falling, holding your breath until the shaking mellowed down. You heaved once it stopped.

“JESUS CHRIST.”

“Not funny!” he cried out, but even he was stifling a laugh. He walked over to the mess and threw the fallen books into the cart with you.

“At least we have something to do now.”

“Yeah. Especially since you put these books in the wrong shelf. These belong over there.”

“Let’s fix it then,” you said, still not moving from the cart. He placed all the books from the floor onto you and moved the cart to the corner.

“You’re heavy.”

Even if you were, he carried you in that cart like you were as light as a mouse.

“Shut up. I like shelving books this way.” You took a book from your lap.

“Top shelf.”

“I know where to put them.” He took it from your hand and shoved it in place.

It was the most civil you two have ever been since you met.

You didn’t have many books to shelf. And after, when the cart was empty save for you, he continued to push and walk you around the library.

You stood up on your knees and faced him, hands on the handlebars he held. You were up to his eyes.

“Everything’s all good.”

“Because of me. You made a shit ton of mistakes.”

You slumped down. Even in the dark, you felt him lock into your eyes as he rested his chin on his hands to level with you.

“How’d you like Poe?”

His voice was so soft when he said that.

It often was when he talked about books.

You were hoping he would bring that up. You looked away. You couldn’t even look at him, fighting that burn in your stomach.

“I’ve read the book.”

“I saw.”

He tilted his head to the side. You wished he weren’t leaning down so you could look up without directly meeting his eyes.

“I’ve read each story… twice… maybe three times.”

He smiled again. Each time, it felt warmer in the room.

“You liked it?”

You nodded. “I do,” you cleared your throat, trying not to smile too hard. “I’m doing my paper on The Murder in the Rue Morgue.”

“Gruesome,” he chortled. “I knew you’d enjoy that.”

You faced away from him before his eyes would end up digging themselves into your corneas. You leaned against the back of the cart, your head lightly touching his arm.

When you’ve managed to tour the whole library, you finally stood up.

“You’re turn. Get in here.”

Jason wanted to laugh. “I weigh 180 pounds. You’ll never be able to lift me.”

“Watch me try.”

You hopped off the cart, pushing him aside from the handle. When you wouldn’t stop pulling at his shirt, he pinched your chin before eventually climbing on like you did. He was bigger than you, so he looked a lot more uncomfortable with his knees folded up to his chest and his arms having to rest outside the cart just because they wouldn’t fit.

One hundred eighty pounds of pure muscle was unsurprisingly heavy enough to almost snap your spine, but you managed. Pushing the cart slowly at first, Jason leaned to the left side to steer you off. “Jason!”

“I see stray books. Go over there.”

You did not work out enough to enjoy this. When you reached the desk, Jason took the books you previously set aside and placed them on his lap. “Braille,” he said. “These go all the way to the back. You give up?”

“I can handle this. I’m a big girl.”

You pushed the cart, eventually gaining speed, but it wasn’t even a fraction of how easily he pushed you. You reached the far back, with two sharp turns that nearly killed your arms, then stopped with a loud breath.

“You’re right. We should do this more often.”

You were panting by that time, and Jason handed you the books to place on the shelf. “Chop chop.”

—–

It was twelve am, and Jason Todd was about to go insane.

It wasn’t the dark that made him restless. And he didn’t have much to complain about sleeping on the tables when compared to wet, soggy roadside concrete.

It was everything else. Being trapped anywhere would be anyone’s nightmare.

But after the look Bruce had on his face when he caught Jason’s fist, just before Jason would have snapped a thug’s neck after one more punch, he wasn’t exactly looking forward to coming home that night anyway.

He couldn’t go on patrol. For the next few days. As if he wasn’t already in detention.

Life could be kinder. Or he could be kinder to life. Both of these were his own doing.

He badly needed a smoke.

Not here. The smell would stick to the books. He needed a window. And the only one that opened was way above the shelves, about fifteen feet up the glass wall.

He climbed up and budged the window open. Just the feel of the fresh air made him almost jizz his pants.

Jason reached for the cigarette pack and the lighter in his pocket, then he stuck the vice to his lips.

He was careful not to leave traces on the floor, or it would be another ten weeks of detention for both of you. Like cool fire in his lungs nipping at his throat, he inhaled.

Jason thought he was quiet enough not to wake you.

But before he managed a word, you climbed up the shelves to stand beside him, up on your toes, to look outside the open window. You didn’t flinch at the stench of his smoke in your direction.

He stared at you.

“I’d really prefer you step down from this shelf before it breaks and injures us both.”

You shrugged.

Then you held your hand out to him, two fingers together.

Jason wasn’t sure if he was surprised, nor that he should be, when it wasn’t surprising at all coming from you. You threw scissors at people and probably committed felonies. Of course, you smoked.

He took out a stick from his pack and handed it to you. You stuck it to your mouth, leaning over to him so he could light it.

Then you breathed the gray clouds out of your noses at the same time, looking out the window.

“Since when do you smoke?” he asked.

“Since I was twelve.” You laughed. “You?”

“Eleven.”

You breathed out your lips. Your breaths of smoke were shorter, softer. His had more force.

“Is your dad good to you?” you asked.

He couldn’t look at you, or at the sky where Batman could probably see him from.

“He is…”

He pinched the used-up stick with his fingers and pulled out another. You watched him light it.

“I’m the one who could be a better son.”

It took you longer to go through a stick than he did. You were barely halfway through.

“What about yours?”

You, on the other hand, could look him in the eye.

“No.”

Then you breathed out more than your lungs probably allowed you to. You didn’t have to say anything else. He knew enough not to ask.

“Have you ever dated anyone?” he asked.

You snorted through your nose.

“Why are you asking me that?”

“Because I can’t imagine you… dating.”

“Well, I haven’t.”

Then you finally finished one stick. He gave you another and helped you light it. His finger touched your lip.

“How many guys have asked you out?”

You laughed the smoke out of your mouth. “You assume I get asked out.”

“I mean,” he scratched his neck. “There’s gotta be some.”

Your eyebrow was on your forehead.

“I was told I scare them away.”

“Guys are too scared to ask you out?” he coughed some smoke. “What are you, Medusa?”

“I could be,” you breathed. “I don’t really care.”

He shouldn’t have laughed, but he did. And he caught you grinning, too.

Jason could look out the window comfortably on his flat feet, while you had to tiptoe just to reach the gap for the smoke to blow out.

He hadn’t smoked with anybody at all. Not in his life. Not in the streets. Not in the manor. This was the first time he lit someone else’s cigarette with his lighter. It was nice.

“You a virgin?”

His throat closed mid-inhale, and the smoke stuck to his esophagus. He hacked his neck off until he almost fell off the shelf.

“What?”

Your voice might have been easier on the ears when you weren’t screaming, but dammit, did you ask the most horrific questions.

“I don’t… I’m… I just…” he pulled on the skin of his throat, looking everywhere but you.

But you were chuckling as if you already knew the answer.

“Calm down, I’m messing with you.”

He saw the smoke you blew out fly out the window until it met the smoke he breathed out. They balled up into one grey cloud until they dispersed into the cold.

---

Two fucking am. The power was still out. Jason might actually use his Wayne kid connections and yell at the electricity company when he gets out of here. You were sitting cross-legged on one end of the long, narrow table, fiddling with your sleeves since you couldn’t sleep. Jason laid down on the same table, but faced the opposite way on the other end. His back was going to kill him in the morning, but after the smoke relaxed his muscles, his body finally gave out.

Jason laid his head on his bicep, turning to the shadows.

Then a warm, soothing melody started to hum, a voice he’d never heard before.

Nothing in the dark could be the source. Jason craned his head up and realized it came from you.

You turned to him, and he went back to covering his eyes with his arm, pretending to sleep.

“Jason?” you lightly asked, soft enough not to wake him if he was actually asleep. You turned your back around and crouched over.

With you thinking he wasn’t conscious, he heard you start to sing.

‘You got a fast car

I want a ticket to anywhere

Maybe we make a deal

Maybe together we can get somewhere

Anyplace is better

Starting from zero got nothing to lose

Maybe we’ll make something

Me, myself I got nothing to prove’

Then you paused. Your voice was a whisper. If there were anyone else in that room talking, it would’ve been easy to miss it.

And you never would’ve sung if you knew Jason wasn’t asleep.

You had the most beautiful voice he had ever heard in his life.

‘You got a fast car

I got a plan to get us out of here

I been working at the convenience store

Managed to save just a little bit of money

Won’t have to drive too far

Just ‘cross the border and into the city

You and I can both get jobs

And finally see what it means to be living’

Your voice was low: a beautiful, husky low. You were sultry. And there was that deep breath when you reached the lower notes with ease. And there was that drowsy, slow drag to it that sounded effortless out of your lips.

It was a miracle that your everyday screaming never affected your vocal cords at all.

His face was on fire. He was wide awake, and there was something thudding against his ribcage hard enough to make him choke without the smoke in his throat. And it worsened every time you sang a note low enough to whisper, making him shiver with his hair stiffened and still.

You finished the song.

You didn’t sing anything more for the rest of the night, and he wished you would. He ended up staying up longer, fighting his tiredness, just in case he’d miss another song.

Could your smoking possibly damage this? Because if it did, you should stop.

---

Three am.

He woke up to your shivering.

Your arms were over your stomach, clawing at your skin with your nails.

He forgot to shut the window after he smoked. And the wind had crept its way in through the small gap. And he didn’t notice the cold, not with him being used to so much worse. The library didn’t have a blanket or a curtain to wrap yourself with.

Jason forced his body to stand on the floor, no matter how much his weight was pulling him down to collapse. He was so tired. This was his second night without sleep.

But Jason lugged himself to the window and climbed up the shelf even when shots of black would flash over his eyes. He pulled on the handle and shut it closed, careful not to fall.

The cold probably wouldn’t subside for a while.

Then he walked over to take his leather jacket from his backpack.

As he did, another uneaten protein bar fell from his pocket.

He was so hungry.

But so were you.

Jason laid his jacket carefully over your sleeping form so you wouldn’t wake, then left the protein bar near your face so it would be the first thing you’d see.

Just as he nestled onto the table again, he heard you wake up.

He didn’t bother to look up, pretending to sleep while listening to you unwrap the protein bar and eat it.

Then he slept.

Another hour later, with it still dark, his eyes opened.

You left him a quarter of the protein bar on the table in front of his face—like he did for you. And you left him the exact amount he gave you earlier that night.

Your sense of humor was sweet when it wasn’t so twisted. He wanted to laugh, but didn’t want to wake you.

When he looked up, you were asleep, wearing his jacket properly with your arms through the sleeves. You looked warm, comfortable, tucking your lips under the collar. And you were no longer shivering.

And he noticed you scooted over closer to his head, just enough that your hair tickled his when he moved.

—–

Twelve hours.

You were stuck in the library.

For twelve fucking hours.

You shot up from the table the moment you heard the chains outside the door fall to the ground. You and Jason raced out the door, and before the janitor could open it, you violently pushed it aside and raced out into the wide-open space of the driveway outside the gates. The poor janitor looked puzzlingly at you. But since he was too old to care or even ask about what happened, he shrugged it off.

The cool air felt heavenly against your skin, and the bright sun smiled back against your face. You spread your arms out and took in the fresh air as much as you could. Jason looked like he wanted to kneel on the ground and kiss the floor.

He screamed. And you did the same.

“THAT IS NEVER HAPPENING AGAIN.”

“NEVER.”

It was the first time you got a good look at his face when he smiled in the daylight.

“Don’t tell anyone about this.”

“Agreed,” you said. “Not even our parents.”

“Not a single soul.”

Your body felt light. Your chest felt lighter. You were smiling at him, too.

Thank fuck, a janitor still came over on a Saturday, otherwise you would’ve been stuck there until Monday.

The beautiful, pink morning sky welcomed you. The driveway never looked so clean, and the breeze was so wonderfully cold, with the autumn leaves still floating on the grass and the roads. You were happy. Then you caught yourself in a lingering gaze on Jason as he headed towards his bike.

“Walk safe.”

“Bye, Todd.”

You couldn’t stop grinning as you walked towards opposite ends of the sidewalk, hands on your sides and not in your pockets like you usually would.

Sparing one last glance behind you, seeing him get on his motorcycle, you turned to the corner of the street.

You didn’t notice until Jason disappeared into the ends of the high road that you were still wearing his leather jacket. You weren’t sure if he noticed, either.

He should have noticed.

---

TAGLIST:

@littleredwing89 @pricetagofficial @l-inkage @offendedfishnoises @bungunz @boosyboo9206 @estrela-rogers @americasmarauders @lucy-roo @satan-s-ass @shadowsndaisies @deadbeatphobos @thesunxxtodd @insideoutjulie

[batarella]

Not that its a competition but Belly from TSITP might have had two brothers fighting over her but Y/N from 3 birds 1 stone had three so really who’s messier

[batarella]

I made changes in 3 birds 1 stone

reading my past work after 4 years brought back the fondest memories, but I couldn't help myself but go back and edit in a few changes. I barely changed anything the way I'm almost completely redoing I Don't Hate You, but these parts in 3 birds 1 stone were edits I've always wanted to make, but felt like I couldn't since I post each chapter before I even start to write the next one. And this was the series that went the most amount of rewrites in the outline. I decided to just do those changes now.

Nothing much changed in the storyline! But I'll post the most significant edits here if you're a 3 birds 1 stone fan and you'd like to go through them. If not, no worries! the story is still completely intact.

Edits:

Chapter 5 - Y/N doesn't know Kori is coming back, but after they kiss in the hilltop, she hesitates to be with Dick because of Tim, not Kori.

---

With your arms now against his waist, Dick went on to pepper light kisses all over your face. Your eyelids. Your cheeks. Your nose.

Then you had your forehead leaning against his. Even with his touches, how securely he held you, you swallowed.

And you just wanted to burst out crying.

Because even with all those other things he told you with that kiss, it all dawned to you at that one, excruciating moment when you stopped being so obsessed with his lips, looked at him in the eye and read between the lines. Because it was all so clear, you just wished you’d seen it sooner. His kiss told you many things, but it also told you more than you hoped.

It was the way his throat hitched when you looked at him so longingly. You weren’t so sure at first, but you were sure of it now.

“Y/N-“

“I can't do this to Tim..."

The way everything fell. His face. The shift in his cheeks and eyes. You could tell he wanted to back away. And you did it for him.

He just pulled you closer, but he didn’t even have to answer you anymore. You wiped that long-fallen tear from your cheek and shook your head.

“He's your brother...” you said.

“Y/N, I swear-"

“It’s okay…”

Maybe it wasn’t such a good thing that even with the god-awful sting that slapped your chest, you still managed to smile and caress the side of his face so gently, you just knew the chaotic discourse going on in his head was just as irrepressible as yours.

“I'm sorry, Dick…” You thumbed his cheek. “I don't wanna hurt him, too."

“Y/N, please listen to me,” he held both your hands now. “Tim knows. He's always known about us.“

“Dick…” you said. “He'll be devastated."

He was trembling. “He left you."

“Dick… Please…”

You let go of his hands.

“Y/N,” he swallowed, and his voice stiffened and deepened. “I swear to God, I know for a fact that you’ve known all these years. You couldn’t possibly have told yourself it wasn’t true. You know I want you. I’ve always wanted you, and you’ve always known that.”

“Dick-“

“You’ve always been…” He loosened his hold on you just in case you didn’t want to be held so tightly. “Do you want me, too?"

"I do."

Lips between your teeth, you kept your eyes closed. And just as he’s let go, you backed away. "It's always been you," he cried.

“Then why does it feel like you’re saying goodbye?”

Goodbye.

Goodbye.

You felt it the moment he said he had to take you somewhere so suddenly, when he took you to the most beautiful place on earth and looked at you like it was the last time. Goodbye. That was the word you instantly thought of after all those moments. You couldn’t point it out, and it never raced from the back of your head, all until you finally said it and it was out in the open. Goodbye. This was how he was saying goodbye.

Because he knew, no matter what would've happened in this hilltop, your friendship was going to end either way.

“I’m-“

“Dick, it’s alright.”

“It’s not.”

Dick held your face again.

One more kiss. It truly, definitely felt like goodbye now. So soft and gentle were his lips, you held his wrists and so slowly pulled them away from holding your face. And when he had lost his hold, you backed away.

---

2. Chapter 7 - Dick hides the fact that Kori is back in the Titans Tower, and Y/N calls him, tries to get together with him, only to find out the truth immediately after

---

“I love you, Y/N…”

And despite the hurt, with everything else that went on, you let those three words be the only thing in your own little bubble of a universe. You smiled. You were never going to forget the way he said it so softly.

Then he was laughing. “I love you…” he said again. “God, it feels good to say that…”

You smiled so much; your face started to hurt.

“I read your letter like… fifty times…” you snorted.

“I hope that’s a good thing.”

“It’s a good thing.”

He giggled. You’ve never heard him giggle before. It was the most adorable thing you’ve ever heard.

“I love you. I meant everything I wrote. Everything.”

Your head met your palm, and you had to stop yourself before this was going to get the better of you.

“If it means I have to wait longer for you to sort things out, I will. Take as long as you need, and we… I can take this as slow as you want. Whatever you're comfortable with. I just don’t want to rush you into anything…”

Maybe, in a way, this was the right choice. He could be the right choice. And it’ll take a while to prove that, but it was a start.

“Dick, I-“

From his end of the phone, you heard a door swing open, then there was his phone shuffling in his hand, then all the other noises were incoherent and muffled. Voices. There was more than one.

And Dick’s hand was shaking because you managed to pick out a few of them.

“………… thank you……… Dick……”

“……………alright………”

“………. You………. sure?.........”

“………. Yeah……..”

“…….good….. talk……… understand……”

“thanks………….. rest up……..”

No. Not a few. Just one other voice. A sweet, melodic voice, much like singing.

You never thought you could feel losing a smile so quickly, your chest being pulled all the way down to the earth’s core.

The door closed, then it was Dick’s voice again.

“Hey… sorry-“

“Dick,” you croaked. “Where did you say you were tonight again?”

You heard how confused he was. “I was… the Titans…”

You've seen what happened to glass when it break.

That was exactly what it felt like. 

You shattered. At the sound of that sweet, unmistakably perfect voice, you shattered.

"Was that Kori?"

No answer.

You shattered even more.

“I…”

“You never said she was coming back."

"I'm sorry."

"Did you know she was gonna come back before you left?"

No answer.

If only there was a way to bash the stupid out of your head.

“Y/N, I know that sounds bad, but it’s not what you think-“

“Are you back together?"

"No," Dick said. "No-"

"Were you gonna get back together with her if I hadn't called?"

No answer.

God, you never felt this much bile in your throat.

"I thought..." he swallowed. "I thought you'd chosen Tim... I never thought you'd...Y/N… Nothing happened…”

“You were supposed to marry her, Dick."

“I came back to talk to her about what happened. The wedding. She deserves some closure-“

"You were supposed to marry her."

“You know it’s not that easy.” His mouth sounded trembling. “But that doesn’t mean anything happened."

"Why didn't you tell me she was back?"

"I..." he sobbed. "Because I didn't want you to think this was over. That I'm over you. Because I'm not. I choose you, Y/N. Kori and I are friends.”

“I find it hard to believe that you could be friends with someone who was supposed to be your wife."

“I didn’t- I don’t know… Y/N, it’s not like you don’t talk to Tim…”

“Then why did you tell me you were with the Titans?” You scoffed. “At least I don’t lie to you when I talk to Tim.”

“I wasn’t… We were at the control room alone to watch them from the cams. I didn’t think I was… I promise you, nothing happened.”

“I know you, Dick. You're honest until you think the truth hurts a lot worse than a lie.”

It’s funny how quickly that high you went through just two minutes ago could blow over so quickly and leave you down at the bottom of an infernal pit you couldn’t climb out of, because that’s where you were right then. You were tired. You didn’t want to go through any of this. You weren’t even surprised, and that was what hurt the most. And even more so wouldn’t you be surprised if at any of those days he’d spent in that tower, they’d slept together.

“I don’t even know what I’m so upset about,” you sighed. “You don’t have to promise me anything, Dick. We’re not together. Stay there. Take as long as you like.”

---

3. Chapter 8 - Tim came back from the hospital, but not because he passed out from a coffee addiction and got beat up. He went after Firefly to avenge Y/N after what he did to make her lose her leg

---

You could tell he had so much to say to you. Everything. Apologies. Reasons. Questions.

But, with Tim, it didn’t always have to be so hard. That was why you’d always ended up falling back to him no matter what.

Easy. It had always been easy with him. Getting together with him was easy. Being happy with him was easy. With him, who refused to be with you because he knew how much Dick had taken care of you all these years and wanted the same for the rest of your life. When he couldn’t trust himself, not anymore, to not to break your heart all over again.

You kissed his nose, and with that, he slightly fluttered his one eye open to smile at you. All had been forgiven. Just like that.

Tim’s hand, thin and weak, gently held your face.

“I’m sorry…” he said.

“I’m here…”

You held tightly onto his wrist and never left the hold on his eyes.

“I’m here,” you said again. “I’m not leaving.”

The dimwit had it in him to laugh. Faintly. Weakly. It hurt to listen to.

"Why..." you sobbed. "Why did you go after him?"

Firefly. 

Every member of this family had a nemesis. For Batman, it was Joker. Dick's was Penguin. Jason had Black Mask.

You?

You had the monster that took your leg.

But everyone seemed to blame everything else but him.

You ran a hand down the burn on his shoulder. His skin looked like yours. On your right leg. The one they didn't chop off. 

All fire ever does is destroy. 

You never hated anything more in your life. 

"I'm sorry."

"It wasn't your fault."

"It was."

Tim held your cheek. 

"Dick and Jason told me the same thing."

His eyes were up the ceiling. 

"None of us are lying."

You buried your face into his shoulder, careful not to sting the burn.

---

4. RED - Jason's ending (just changed the dialogue and added a few sentences of sex in the epilogue)

“Why is this so hard for you-“

“Because it doesn’t make sense.”

“Why not?“

“Because, I-“

Every word out of him, a fire that couldn’t be put out. Flames uncontrollable, and his breath nothing but encouraging winds.

“Because you’re gonna wake up one day and realize I’m not any of my brothers… I was the one who never stood a chance,” he said. “No one would think you’d want me, out of the many other things you could have had. One day, you’re gonna realize that I’m not what you wanted-“

“I love you-“

God, it was everything he ever wanted to hear.

“You had Dick and Tim. They’ve loved you for so long… And you’re actually choosing the one guy who doesn’t?“

“You’re lying.”

"I don't love you, Y/N."

The look on her face made him want to jump off the railing. 

How many times does she have to get hurt?

Another step forward from her. Another step back from him. He can’t stand too close or all this would be as close to the world’s slowest, most painful death.

He’d never been so cold.

A drop of a tear fell down her cheek. 

Would it be cruel to reach over and wipe it with his touch?

It wasn’t even from the wind from such a height, if there were any at all. But he was shivering, his teeth were gritting. Everything he said, he didn’t even mean. And they were knives down his chest.

She was sobbing. To just reach over and hold her hand. He couldn’t even do that.

“T-three years ago,” she whispered into the cold night air. “I was at the manor. Two weeks out of the hospital. I was just learning how to walk again but that day was hard on me. I couldn’t make a step. I was on my bed, and I was just staring at the ceiling because I couldn’t get out of it.”

It pained him all the more, when he knew nothing of what was to come to him, that all this was going to catch him before he’d even realize what it was.

“You never visit me at the manor but that day, you were there. I don’t even remember what for, but you stopped by and you caught me reading A Christmas Carol because it was the one book in my room that I actually liked. Because I couldn’t go down to the library and get more, and I didn’t want to ask from anyone.

“We started talking about Dickens. You were so excited, talking about him like he was your uncle. I told you I liked reading his books. You said you’d bring me more when you came back. Three days later, you did. You got me Great Expectations.”

Great Expectations.

Why can’t he remember this?

“You left, and I read it that same night. That’s when I found a quote that you highlighted.”

Jason took a step back, away from her.

“I loved her against reason, against promise, against peace, against hope, against happiness, against all discouragement that could be.”

Everything. Everything that devastated, all suddenly came to place.

“The book was new. Store bought. The tag was still there. You bought it for me a day after you visited. Then you read it yourself and highlighted that quote.”

“How did you-“

“Remember that?”

She ignored the streaks down her skin, the droplets that fell down her neck.

“It was just a quote,” she shrugged. “It easily could have been nothing… but after everything that happened, it all makes so much sense.”

If he took another step back, he’d fall over the ledge.

He should have done that, now that she had walked close enough for him to get so lost in her face.

“Did you want me to find that?” you whispered. “Were you trying to tell me something you couldn't say out loud?"

This. This was worse than a fall.

He closed his eyes and everything fell. The tears. The sobs. Everything. Because he did love her then.

But to admit that would be writing his own death sentence.

No one knew. Not even him.

This. This was death. And he’d happily jump back into that abyss.

“I never stood a chance with you, pretty bird…” he sobbed. "I couldn’t even say it to myself."

.

You:

You reached for his face, and for once, he welcomed it.

“If you tell me you don't love me one more time,” you swallowed. “I’ll leave. I’ll never look for you again.”

Even if it hurts, even if I’ll have to live without you. If it’s what you want, I’ll let you go.

His hands found your wrists but it was to hold you, not to pry you away.

“Do you love me, Jason?”

It wasn’t in his words.

It was when he finally took a step forward, to hold you in place, to keep you from falling apart and keep you so close, that acceptance of what truly went on, the love you’ve long known about and continued to believe in, even when he didn’t believe in it himself. It was there. It was what moved you. You could have fallen in from one of the many spaces above and still, you would end up in his arms.

“Of course, I do…“

The sun rose to greet you both into this morning anew. So new a life, waiting for you to come welcome it. And you welcomed it. He kissed you, so tender, yet harsh enough to almost bruise your lips. He loved you. Up where the city could see you, where you wanted to be seen, only to be with him.

.

Epilogue

Jason:

One box would have been enough for his clothes. He didn’t have much anyway. But as it turns out, leather jackets aren’t exactly as compact as he’d liked.

“Where do you want me to put these?!”

She was in the bathroom. He saw her peak her head out from the door to look at the jacket he was holding up.

“I set up a new closet for you!” she cried out, then she went back to brushing her teeth. “It’s beside mine!”

“Got it!”

He took the boxes of clothes, set it just outside the closet which he’ll definitely get into after he deals with everything else. Moving wasn’t something he liked doing, even when he’s moved around a single city so much before his lease would have allowed him to.

But, this new apartment, her apartment, covered in paint and canvases and rags all over the place that nipped at his neat freakiness he’d soon have to overcome, he might actually stick around.

“What about this!?”

He held up his box of books.

“I emptied a shelf for you, too! It’s next to my sketchbooks.”

“Sketchbooks, sketchbooks…”

Her sketchbooks were all over the fucking place.

He found that shelf, at least. Just enough for all his books. That is, if the paint cans above wouldn’t collapse.

“Do you clean up even just a little?”

“Shut up. It’s organized mess.”

“It’s always organized mess with you artists…”

“What?!”

“Nothing!”

She stepped out the bathroom, in nothing more than just a thin shirt and pajama shorts, then she watched him fumble with the last of his boxes.

“And, uh,” he coughed. “Can I put these somewhere?”

The look on her face, playfully annoyed as it was pleasantly unsurprised, she wanted to laugh that he’d resorted to storing his whole arsenal of weapons in a single cardboard box.

“That floorboard over there,” she pointed. “I loosened it up for you.”

“You’re a doll, pretty bird.” Jason put the box on the floor, ran up to her and grabbed her by her thighs, hoisting her whole thrashing body up his shoulder.

Her screams turned to laughter, then he spun her around, slammed her into her own bed like it was a wrestling ring and held her down with a headlock.

Their lips met along the way. She was underneath him, letting the rainfall outside the window fill the silence. But only until he was inside her, making her whimper, cry out his name, sigh out her love for him-those were the sounds that filled that apartment everyday. They were the only sounds he ever wanted to hear for the rest of his life. 

Everything he’d ever thought about how this would have ended wasn’t even a fraction of how it actually went. He'd never smiled for so many days, had this type of happiness without condition, had a love so pure, a life that was no longer filled with nights of nightmares. This was the life he wanted to remember, love, and live.

Jason deserved this.

He deserved this. 

He got his chance.

He got the girl.

This was how it ended.

And he never wanted it to end.

---

I changed the rest of the chapters to adapt to this new storyline accordingly! Thank you to everyone who read this piece and loved it!

[batarella]

'for a boy' - jason todd x reader x artemis of bana-mighdall - fmf nsfw one shot

'He had an Amazon to keep him going, and a human to completely defile.

Just what he fucking needed.'

WARNINGS: NSFW 18+, FMF THREESOME, VAGINAL SEX, ORAL SEX (ALL THREE RECEIVING), ANRGY SEX, JASON NEEDING ANGER MANAGEMENT, SMOKING

A/N: Here ya go, folks. A good ol' batarella smut fic. I've never done an FMF threesome fic before (I've done MFM with Bucky and Jason). Somehow this made me feel even filthier. Guess I'm back to chilling in one of the nine circles in hell

WORDS: 4784

MASTERLIST

----

God, fucking dammit.

What was it going to take for the old man to get off his fucking back?

Kill criminals. Get out of Gotham. Some dad he was. ‘You never hit Joker that hard, and you hate him.’

That was years ago. Not much has changed. They’d make up. He’d call him his son. Then his fist would shatter yet another one of his helmets.

Maybe he was better off dead.  

Fuck fuck FUCK THIS.

He needed to fuck this out of his system.

No amount of glocks thrown was going to cover it. He needed another outlet. Another way to lash this out.

A regular hook-up with a random girl in a bar wasn’t going to suffice.

It was the equivalent of throwing a ball and hoping it lands on the goal a thousand yards away in the middle of the jungle. The longest shot of all long shots he’d ever thrown.

But Jason needed to fuck.

He needed her.

Only an Amazon could match his stamina to fuck this out of him tonight.

‘I need you,’ he texted her number he could only wish she hadn’t thrown out after she left him that day.

He needed to fuck until night became dawn became day became dusk became night. A girl once passed out on him before he even came once. An Amazon was less likely to do that.

But he did like the sight of a girl cum-drunk and worn out from his dick.

Two women sounded more like they could last him all day.

‘Bring a friend.’

Anything to get this fucking fire that was scorching in his flesh put out.

Then, even after all those years, the long shot landed. Artemis called him. Even just her voice made his dick hurt in his pants.

He didn’t bother changing his shattered helmet when he reached the hotel. He went in through the windows, even with the security cams watching him—the Red Hood—looking freshly mauled and beaten. If they saw the news they'd know it was Batman.

He could hear moaning even from two doors down. Jason found the room. Artemis left the door unlocked.

The first thing to greet him was his long mane of fiery red hair, falling to the curve of her back, and her perfect ass pushed out facing him. Christ, he was throbbing at the sight of her.

The moaning came from her friend, legs spread wide in front of the Amazon who had her mouth on her clit and her fingers slamming into her cunt.

You—with your pretty face making pretty sounds—you were no Amazon, which meant you were going to be the one passing out tonight.

He had an Amazon to keep him going, and a human to completely defile.

Just what he fucking needed.

Artemis didn’t stop even as Jason walked in, shut the door behind him, walked to the window, and threw the broken helmet on the sofa. He opened the window just slightly as he took a thin cigarette between his fingers. Two beds. One for fucking, the other to be left dry enough to sleep in.

He breathed in until he felt the burn in his lungs and smoked it out of his nose.

You probably hadn’t been at it for that long, and you were already sobbing with Artemis’s fingers curling into you. Jason caught your eye.

You were having a hard time taking him in when you came all over the bed. A squirter, too. This was gonna be fun. His dick hurt. His flesh hurt. You didn’t even pull at Artemis’s head to stop when he watched.

He was going to last until morning.

Artemis licked up your pussy once more just to make you shiver, then she crawled up, ass up and bear with her back perfectly arched over you. She kissed you, tongue reaching for your throat. Jason watched you enjoy yourselves until the cigarette ran out.

‘It was okay, for a boy,’ Artemis told him after they first kissed. You were probably one of the women she’d kissed before him. He’ll have to see for himself if you were, in fact, any better than he was with your lips.

It took a while until he finally had Artemis’s attention.

“Don’t stop on my account.”

Her smile made him harder. She hopped out of bed, red hair dancing as she moved. Artemis was the only woman he didn’t have to crane his head down for just to kiss. Fuck, her perfect breasts were bouncing when she walked over to him, uncaring for the open window, and grabbed his face.

“Jason.”

“Hey, princess.”

“Hmm.” She never liked that name.

“I missed you.”

Her finger hooked under his chin and she nipped his lips to tease him.

“Bad day?”

He didn’t answer. Jason pulled out another cigarette as Artemis bit on his neck.

“Come here.”

Artemis was talking to you, panting like a dog with your feet shaking as you walked. Jason breathed more smoke into his lungs and kept it there as his eyes scanned you from your unkept head of hair, the fresh beads of sweat down your breasts, and your pussy already dripping as you walked.

Jason breathed out the smoke, teeth biting onto his bottom lip. You were no innocent. Your eyes were dark. If you’ve done this before with Artemis, maybe you’d last longer than he thought.

“What’s your name?”

You took steps nearer to him. Then you dared to run a hand down Jason’s arm, almost salivating as you took him in yourself.

“Y/N.”

He welcomed your touch, grazing his finger down your jaw.

“Jason,” he groaned, eyes down to your lips. He licked his, without taking his eyes off yours.

“You used to this?”

You shook your head. Artemis was behind you, breasts against your back. You melted into her muscled arms, but kept your eyes locked on Jason. “Not with men like you.”

Before you could kiss him, Artemis’s hand was around your throat, pulling you to kiss her.

Jason watched your writhing tongues as he let out another smoke cloud out of his nose, your hands tangled over each other’s limbs to grab your breasts. Then you were both on your knees, facing each other, directly in front of Jason’s cock. You dug your fingers into Artemis’s waist, letting her thigh settle between your legs, so your pussy would graze against her skin. He watched you move, moan, grab at the red mane the way he’d done before.

He loved watching.

Jason didn’t stop with his smoke when his one hand started undoing his pants. You pulled away, helping him get those dastardly buckles off until his cock sprang free over his boxers and open zipper. Jason didn’t remove anything else just yet. You’ll get there in time. But your dark eyes, he could tell, wanted every part of him on every part of you.

You’ve exchanged no more than fourteen words, and your mouth lapped over his cock like you’ve been starved for years. Artemis, encasing you from behind, had her hand snaking down your pussy, hands squeezing your breasts. Her lips were on your cheek, close enough to feather over his cock. When your tongue had ravished every inch and every vein, you hollowed out your cheeks and let his dick wear out your jaw.

Artemis was the only one with a jaw that wouldn’t ache after the first five minutes of sucking him off. You, and every other human he’d fucked, would be sobbing and choking at his dick and your tears by the time his hips would start to thrust. So he didn’t move. He let you do the work, hands gentle on your hair. Artemis grinned with her teeth biting down into your neck. Then she pinned your hands behind you with one hand, the other over your hair entangled with Jason’s fingers.

Then she started to move your head back and forth, uncaring for your gagging and choking as he bottomed out into you.

“Fuck,” Jason hissed, then threw the cigarette butt out the window.

Artemis pulled you to bed, falling into each other’s limbs and lips all over the skin of your neck and breasts. Jason walked over to the edge, still not taking off his clothes.

He knew the eyes of a woman who wanted him badly. He caught your glances, even with your lips on Artemis’s nipples. So Jason pulled you, hand under your chin.

“Fuck her first,” Artemis said.

Jason groaned again, making sure he remembered your name when you laid yourself out in front of him without a bone in you that hesitated. You spread your legs for him, hand over your clit and lip between your teeth. Artemis settled herself bent over at your side, and Jason couldn’t keep his hand from snaking down the Amazon’s spine, her arched back, to her drenched pussy. You were kissing her, and Artemis moved slightly forward so your lips would be lapping at her breasts.

Jason looked up and took in the bliss of cold air for the first time that day when he slid his throbbing, hard cock into you.

Fucking hell, you were tight, even when Artemis had stretched you out with her fingers.

His hand wouldn’t leave Artemis’s pussy, hovering his fingers over her ass, her clit, her hole. He inserted it enough just to hear her whimper, before you bit onto her nipples and she cried out louder than you. But you were screaming, eyebrows up to your forehead as your eyes couldn’t physically tear themselves away from him. Jason, still with all his clothes on, thrust himself hard enough into you to feel your thighs trembling as he bottomed out.

Your hand grabbed Artemis by the hair, and Jason could see your tongues together, hungry and desperate for an outlet of release. He snapped his hips into you harder, fingers curling themselves inside of Artemis so you’d both cry for him.

Then you pulled Artemis by the leg, mouth wet and starving. She kissed you once before crawling to your face, swinging one leg over your head so she was straddling your mouth facing Jason.

“Fuck.” He grew harder inside you, watching you both, his hands already bruising your hips. He pulled up your waist so he could thrust into you even deeper.

Then, craning his head higher, Artemis held Jason by the face, whimpering as your tongue drew out the prettiest mewls from her lips. She kissed him hard.

He hadn’t kissed her in years.

He missed her so much.

Artemis’s tongue was sweet, likely from your juices, but it ravaged every part of his mouth until Jason was sure he knew what you tasted. He held her face, pulled at her hair hard enough to make her hiss more, then, with you crying from underneath her, Jason could see your tongue quickly lapping over her clit to make her jolt. She pulled away, but Jason wouldn’t let her.

His fingers wouldn’t leave her hair. She broke his heart. A long time ago. He needed this.

You tried to make Artemis cum with your mouth, but Jason wouldn’t give you that focus.

Artemis leaned down, so her lips were directly over Jason’s dick thrusting in and out of you. Her breath, so warm, blew onto his cock. He saw stars and fucked you even faster until your incoherent screams were muffled with Artemis’s pussy still on your mouth.

You whined at the hard stop when Artemis pushed him slightly off you, grabbed Jason’s cock, then ran her tongue down his length. Her eyes were on him when she slid him into her mouth, just for a second, before her tongue was on your pussy to earn a cry out of you herself.

She inserted Jason back into you, fingers over your clit as she watched. Then, as Jason pummeled himself back into you, you finally squirted.

You came, and he felt your pussy try to push him out, but he wouldn’t let you. You were sobbing, fingers deep inside Artemis until she, too, was shaking immensely on top of you, but both your screams couldn’t drown out the fire still flaming in his chest. His rage. The darkness. It wouldn’t let him stop, not even when you wept. Artemis’s tongue lapped over your clit and his cock as he pulled his jeans further down so he could bottom out and hear you scream.

He never stopped when they came around him. He stopped when he came. And it took a while. With the anger, the fuel in him that needed more than just a night to put out. He grabbed Artemis by her face and bit onto her lips.

He came for the first time that night. Jason could feel his cock twitch inside you, and you stiffened, feeling his hot load shoot up your cervix. He could feel you clench, tense at first when he slowed his thrusts, before easing in when he finally pulled away from Artemis.

It barely made a dent against his madness. He was so far from done, and the sheets were already soaked. Artemis swung her leg over you, and Jason finally got a good look at your face, panting and spent. You looked pathetic, thinking you could take an Amazon and a Lazarus-enhanced maniac in one night and still have feeling in your limbs by the next hour.

Artemis, on the other hand, was grinning off her cheeks, but she, too, was far from done.

Jason finally took off his jacket and shirt, much to both women’s delight. He was pulled to kneel on the bed, with one of you pulling down his pants and boxers and the other with a tongue all over his pecs and neck. He looked up at the blank ceiling and felt you both all over him.

Artemis liked to have more control, biting into his neck while her hands drew out sighs from his mouth, reaching for his cock to make it hard for her again. You liked being controlled. His hand was on your neck, and you were kneeling, arching your back lower, knowing you were at the bottom of this sex chain. And your mouth, drenching his abs with your drool, was once again teasing his cock.

“Great Akila, I missed you, too,” Artemis moaned.

Artemis pushed him to lie down, neck craned slightly up against the headboard. And he watched you as both your tongues licked down his cock.

He should have bad days more often if this was the paradise that followed. His eyes fluttered to the ceiling, sweat down his skin. His two hands, tangled in both your hairs. Fuck, this was the only thing that could actually get him off. You were both so fucking gorgeous with his cock alternating between you and Artemis’s mouth. You’d suck on his tip, while Artemis would lap her hard tongue all the way down his length. Then you’d follow her, pursing your lips wet with your drool dragging it down his veins, while Artemis dug her sharp nails on his thighs and take all of him in her mouth.

He loved feeling two mouths on his cock.

“Jesus fucking Christ…”

Jason didn’t even notice he was whispering prayers he couldn’t understand. Artemis, with jaws that never ached, forced him all the way up her throat until no part of him was left out. Up and down, she sucked hard.

Y/N crawled up, hands tracing his torso. You were so beautiful with your drool almost down your neck and your hair sticking to your skin.

He finally pulled you to his lips. You tasted different, tasted like Artemis’s pussy. Your tongue was gentler, still with that sliver of hesitation. He didn’t want that anymore.  And he was moaning into your mouth just before Artemis popped his cock out of hers, straddled him with her large, muscled thighs, and slid his dick inside her

And before he let his eyes roll back, or let his mind whisk itself away into galaxies, he pulled you by your legs, letting you straddle his head facing Artemis. Jason’s mouth was on your cunt, still warm from the friction of his dick. You arched your back enough so his hands could hold onto your ass.

Two women on him. Two women making themselves cum on him.

He let the fire take over again. He bent his knees and thrust up into Artemis, relishing at the sound of her writhing while his hips snapped up to her, and he stuck his tongue down your hole until you were clawing at his abs.

He couldn’t see, but he knew you were kissing. He could hear your mouths, wet from drool and cum and sweat. Your hands were on his chest, his abs. He could feel you both trembling.

He moved his hips and heard a whimper out of Artemis. He lapped at your clit and you pulled away from her lips just to sob. He felt Artemis’s hands on his knees just to hold herself up, and she was bouncing harder on his cock, hard enough that any woman would break their pelvis at her strength. He felt a hand, likely yours, touching Artemis’s clit while grazing over his cock. He felt your tongue next.

Fuck, how did it take this much just to feel something?

The pit. The darkness. He was scorching to touch. Every flesh in him burned. The static, the voices, all over him, and they wouldn’t be silenced until his hips were violently thrusting and the Amazon on top of him was screaming his name.

You leaned forward, and Jason looked up, seeing Artemis’s hands all over your back. You couldn’t stop kissing her. And he couldn’t stop watching. He put his focus on his tongue, just for a moment, and wouldn’t take his eyes off you when he let his tongue draw circles around your throbbing clit. When his fingers thrust inside you, curling for no more than a few seconds, you were done for.

You came apart. Again. This time, he let you push him away, convulsing as you squirted all over the sheets next to his head so he wouldn’t drown. A part of that darkness started to light. He needed more. He slapped you, a red mark immediately forming around your ass. Then he shifted his focus again to Artemis, who hadn’t slowed down once from riding his dick.

You were motionless on the bed beside him, even more spent than you already were, watching with your eyes fluttering closed. You watched him fuck your friend with his harsh, unforgiving hips, until the Amazon warrior grabbed her own hair and screamed.

She, too, squirted all over him, all over the bed. The sheets looked like buckets of water had been splashed around in the room all night. Your juices mixed with hers.

But, like he did with you, he didn’t care to stop.

Not until he was coming, hard enough that his whole body was shaking. His hands dug deep into Artemis’s skin, enough that she hissed, and it took a lot of pain just to do that. His cock, she pulled away just enough to see the bottom half of his cock twitching, filling her up.

Jason wasn’t going to let her leave again after tomorrow without his cum dripping down those thick Amazon thighs.

He turned to you, no different from the other humans who passed out because of him, lying still on the bed until you slowly crawled up to Artemis.

Jason didn’t move, his arm over his eyes. He felt the fire finally start to calm down. Beginning to. It wasn’t over. He didn’t think it would be.

The anger in him would have allowed him to fuck a whole brothel and still be left unspent.

He sat up against the headboard, watching you still going at it. It was four am. You’ve been at this all night.  

You might have been human. Still, you wanted more. You showed signs of exhaustion, your legs shaking and giving out.

And you managed to sit up on your elbows, legs spread wide, while Artemis hooked one leg over you and your other leg hooked over hers.

Jason watched you lazily rub your drenched, sloppy pussies together in silence. He liked watching. He liked hearing you both try to make the other scream. You were louder. You had been all night. But Artemis was addicted to you. She reached over to your tits, palm squeezing and holding on while she grinded her hips hard enough so you’d throw your head back in a whiplash. You were so much smaller than her, and still, your bodies melted into each other like they belonged.

She made you squirt. Again. You were embarrassed at this point, flushing red while Artemis still had it in her to grind into you harder.

You made him so hard, it hurt to shift his hips.

He could ask for your number, call you when he needed a good fuck. You were good. You were beautiful. And you lasted long enough.

You could take him.

Jason reached over, grabbed you by the chin, and kissed you while the sound of your thick cum sliding against each other’s pussies mixed in with your muffles.

He let the burning rage in him fuel him once more.

“Lie down and let her eat you out,” he told Artemis.

She didn’t like it when he told her what to do and squinted at him.

“For me, princess…”

She rolled her eyes, slapping his hand away from her chin. He grabbed her face anyway to kiss her before he pulled away to stand over you.

“Make her cum,” he told you.

Then he pulled you hard to the edge of the bed, flipping you over like a ragdoll that weighed nothing, and pulled you up to your hands and knees.

Artemis kept her eyes on Jason, hooded and dark under the dim orange light, when she positioned herself in front of you and spread her impossibly long legs. Her breasts perked up, squeezed by her hands as you licked all the way up from her hole to her clit.

She still wouldn’t break from his gaze, not while she was moaning.

Artemis would probably leave him, again. Tell him he didn’t need her anymore when, in his own way, he did.

He shouldn’t think of that if he didn’t want to be even angrier.

He took it out on you, hand harsh against your ass. He slammed himself into you, unforgiving enough that you fell from your own grip. He was relentless, feeling this curse fill with blackness; it consumed him so much that he let the pain take over. Jason grabbed you by the neck and forced you down against Artemis’s aching pussy.

“I said make her cum.”

The Amazon cried at the feel of your tongue lapping quickly, unbreaking from his gaze on him. She looked like she was on the verge of coming and was rather intrigued. This woman was impossible to impress, and he managed to do just that.

You, on the other hand, were sobbing, trying your best to make an Amazon cum from your tongue, all while being fucked into outer space. He could see bruises forming around your ass, the porn-worthy recoil an image he’d go back to for his nights alone. His hands were harsh, pushing your waist down to arch even further. And his cock, possibly bruising your walls at the violent intrusion. He felt you clench, tremble, but you wanted to make Artemis come first.

Your fingers were in her, slamming themselves up at an angle that looked like it hurt.

And the longer it took you to make Artemis come, the harder he was going to fuck you.

You were screaming so much that he could no longer make out the noises you were making. Tears were in your eyes. You were still only human.

It took a while, enough that you couldn’t hold yourself back. You squirted all over the bed again. It was so easy to make you come, and you still had it in you to keep going. He really had to ask for your number.  

 You were red, high from orgasms, but you continued fucking Artemis with your exhausted fingers despite it.

It didn’t take too long, but Artemis, eyes unbreaking from Jason, came all over your mouth.

Her muscles contorted, her abs twitched, and her long legs quaked to your fingers still inside her.

You thought it would be over.

Jason still hadn’t cum.

He almost threw you to the side, didn’t let Artemis finish with her own orgasm before he flipped her over and started fucking her, too.

Artemis could take more pain than you could. He let it be painful. For him, especially. He let his hips bruise, his cock ache and throb. He let the anger do the fucking. He listened to those voices, which made him even more enraged. His eyes had gone so dark that he almost couldn’t see anything apart from the night.

Artemis was crying. Louder than she had all night.

He’d worn her out before. It took all night, but he’ll do it again.

You were still awake when he thought you’d be passed out by then, though it looked like you were at the last little smidge of your strength. You crawled underneath Artemis, legs spread open until you could meet her lips. Though she was much larger, she could crane her head down, kiss you as a means to hold on. Jason wasn’t slowing down. He watched you hold onto the red hair, pulling by the scalp. Your tears mixed in with hers. Artemis, with her pussy clenching and trembling, his fingers marked her indestructible hips, and she cried out again. Jason didn’t know if she came. All he could see was Artemis trembling out of control.

So he pulled you further down the edge of the bed and switched to your pussy directly below Artemis. Her juices were spilling down his cock. You both stayed put, while it was your turn to sob, your mouth directly facing Artemis’s tits.

It took seconds for your legs to shake as well, so he fucked Artemis again. But it almost didn’t matter when your screams were equally deafening, no matter who he was fucking. You, because you simply didn’t have the voice and energy to scream any louder and Artemis, because it was the loudest she allowed herself to be. Jason slammed into one of your pussies, he didn’t even know whose at some point, then switched to the other. A few minutes, then to the other. Another few minutes until he switched again.

He had so much more to put out. He was only halfway through his demons.

After lasting hours, Jason finally came for the third time that night.

His cock twitched. He looked down. He was inside Artemis when he spilled his cum.

He didn’t let himself finish spurting his seed before he pulled out and spilled the rest of it inside you.

So when he finally emptied out and pulled away, he watched both pussies leaking his cum onto the bed.

Artemis, panting, giggled under her breath.

You were definitely seconds away from passing out.

Jason walked to his cigarettes, pulled out one stick, then let another cloud fill his chest as he watched Artemis slowly flip over to face your pussy, getting a taste of Jason’s cum from you. You did the same thing and licked the rest of his cum leaking out of Artemis from underneath her.

Then you finally passed out on the dry, untouched bed. Artemis laid her back against the headboard, looking more worn out than when they’d fucked the first time.

Jason looked out the window, listened to the morning sirens that called for him. Huh. Fuck them. Not for another day.

He was tired for now, more from the lack of sleep. He’ll let the girls rest. Especially you. He’ll let you sleep until noon until it’s time to fuck again. He’ll wake Artemis up in three hours and fuck her on the sofa so you won’t have to wake up.

Jason threw the cigarette butt out the window and walked to the bed between you. You slept with your head on his lap, Artemis over his shoulder after lightly kissing his cheek.

“Was I good enough for a boy?” he asked.

She rolled her eyes and punched him in the shoulder.

He thought these women would one day fear his anger when he fucked like this. But he’d never once heard them complain.

The fire was being put out. Slowly.

---

TAGLIST:

@littleredwing89 @pricetagofficial @l-inkage @offendedfishnoises @bungunz @boosyboo9206 @estrela-rogers @americasmarauders @lucy-roo @satan-s-ass @shadowsndaisies

[batarella]

'for a boy' - jason todd x reader x artemis of bana-mighdall - fmf nsfw one shot

'He had an Amazon to keep him going, and a human to completely defile.

Just what he fucking needed.'

WARNINGS: NSFW 18+, FMF THREESOME, VAGINAL SEX, ORAL SEX (ALL THREE RECEIVING), ANRGY SEX, JASON NEEDING ANGER MANAGEMENT, SMOKING

A/N: Here ya go, folks. A good ol' batarella smut fic. I've never done an FMF threesome fic before (I've done MFM with Bucky and Jason). Somehow this made me feel even filthier. Guess I'm back to chilling in one of the nine circles in hell

WORDS: 4784

MASTERLIST

----

God, fucking dammit.

What was it going to take for the old man to get off his fucking back?

Kill criminals. Get out of Gotham. Some dad he was. ‘You never hit Joker that hard, and you hate him.’

That was years ago. Not much has changed. They’d make up. He’d call him his son. Then his fist would shatter yet another one of his helmets.

Maybe he was better off dead.  

Fuck fuck FUCK THIS.

He needed to fuck this out of his system.

No amount of glocks thrown was going to cover it. He needed another outlet. Another way to lash this out.

A regular hook-up with a random girl in a bar wasn’t going to suffice.

It was the equivalent of throwing a ball and hoping it lands on the goal a thousand yards away in the middle of the jungle. The longest shot of all long shots he’d ever thrown.

But Jason needed to fuck.

He needed her.

Only an Amazon could match his stamina to fuck this out of him tonight.

‘I need you,’ he texted her number he could only wish she hadn’t thrown out after she left him that day.

He needed to fuck until night became dawn became day became dusk became night. A girl once passed out on him before he even came once. An Amazon was less likely to do that.

But he did like the sight of a girl cum-drunk and worn out from his dick.

Two women sounded more like they could last him all day.

‘Bring a friend.’

Anything to get this fucking fire that was scorching in his flesh put out.

Then, even after all those years, the long shot landed. Artemis called him. Even just her voice made his dick hurt in his pants.

He didn’t bother changing his shattered helmet when he reached the hotel. He went in through the windows, even with the security cams watching him—the Red Hood—looking freshly mauled and beaten. If they saw the news they'd know it was Batman.

He could hear moaning even from two doors down. Jason found the room. Artemis left the door unlocked.

The first thing to greet him was his long mane of fiery red hair, falling to the curve of her back, and her perfect ass pushed out facing him. Christ, he was throbbing at the sight of her.

The moaning came from her friend, legs spread wide in front of the Amazon who had her mouth on her clit and her fingers slamming into her cunt.

You—with your pretty face making pretty sounds—you were no Amazon, which meant you were going to be the one passing out tonight.

He had an Amazon to keep him going, and a human to completely defile.

Just what he fucking needed.

Artemis didn’t stop even as Jason walked in, shut the door behind him, walked to the window, and threw the broken helmet on the sofa. He opened the window just slightly as he took a thin cigarette between his fingers. Two beds. One for fucking, the other to be left dry enough to sleep in.

He breathed in until he felt the burn in his lungs and smoked it out of his nose.

You probably hadn’t been at it for that long, and you were already sobbing with Artemis’s fingers curling into you. Jason caught your eye.

You were having a hard time taking him in when you came all over the bed. A squirter, too. This was gonna be fun. His dick hurt. His flesh hurt. You didn’t even pull at Artemis’s head to stop when he watched.

He was going to last until morning.

Artemis licked up your pussy once more just to make you shiver, then she crawled up, ass up and bear with her back perfectly arched over you. She kissed you, tongue reaching for your throat. Jason watched you enjoy yourselves until the cigarette ran out.

‘It was okay, for a boy,’ Artemis told him after they first kissed. You were probably one of the women she’d kissed before him. He’ll have to see for himself if you were, in fact, any better than he was with your lips.

It took a while until he finally had Artemis’s attention.

“Don’t stop on my account.”

Her smile made him harder. She hopped out of bed, red hair dancing as she moved. Artemis was the only woman he didn’t have to crane his head down for just to kiss. Fuck, her perfect breasts were bouncing when she walked over to him, uncaring for the open window, and grabbed his face.

“Jason.”

“Hey, princess.”

“Hmm.” She never liked that name.

“I missed you.”

Her finger hooked under his chin and she nipped his lips to tease him.

“Bad day?”

He didn’t answer. Jason pulled out another cigarette as Artemis bit on his neck.

“Come here.”

Artemis was talking to you, panting like a dog with your feet shaking as you walked. Jason breathed more smoke into his lungs and kept it there as his eyes scanned you from your unkept head of hair, the fresh beads of sweat down your breasts, and your pussy already dripping as you walked.

Jason breathed out the smoke, teeth biting onto his bottom lip. You were no innocent. Your eyes were dark. If you’ve done this before with Artemis, maybe you’d last longer than he thought.

“What’s your name?”

You took steps nearer to him. Then you dared to run a hand down Jason’s arm, almost salivating as you took him in yourself.

“Y/N.”

He welcomed your touch, grazing his finger down your jaw.

“Jason,” he groaned, eyes down to your lips. He licked his, without taking his eyes off yours.

“You used to this?”

You shook your head. Artemis was behind you, breasts against your back. You melted into her muscled arms, but kept your eyes locked on Jason. “Not with men like you.”

Before you could kiss him, Artemis’s hand was around your throat, pulling you to kiss her.

Jason watched your writhing tongues as he let out another smoke cloud out of his nose, your hands tangled over each other’s limbs to grab your breasts. Then you were both on your knees, facing each other, directly in front of Jason’s cock. You dug your fingers into Artemis’s waist, letting her thigh settle between your legs, so your pussy would graze against her skin. He watched you move, moan, grab at the red mane the way he’d done before.

He loved watching.

Jason didn’t stop with his smoke when his one hand started undoing his pants. You pulled away, helping him get those dastardly buckles off until his cock sprang free over his boxers and open zipper. Jason didn’t remove anything else just yet. You’ll get there in time. But your dark eyes, he could tell, wanted every part of him on every part of you.

You’ve exchanged no more than fourteen words, and your mouth lapped over his cock like you’ve been starved for years. Artemis, encasing you from behind, had her hand snaking down your pussy, hands squeezing your breasts. Her lips were on your cheek, close enough to feather over his cock. When your tongue had ravished every inch and every vein, you hollowed out your cheeks and let his dick wear out your jaw.

Artemis was the only one with a jaw that wouldn’t ache after the first five minutes of sucking him off. You, and every other human he’d fucked, would be sobbing and choking at his dick and your tears by the time his hips would start to thrust. So he didn’t move. He let you do the work, hands gentle on your hair. Artemis grinned with her teeth biting down into your neck. Then she pinned your hands behind you with one hand, the other over your hair entangled with Jason’s fingers.

Then she started to move your head back and forth, uncaring for your gagging and choking as he bottomed out into you.

“Fuck,” Jason hissed, then threw the cigarette butt out the window.

Artemis pulled you to bed, falling into each other’s limbs and lips all over the skin of your neck and breasts. Jason walked over to the edge, still not taking off his clothes.

He knew the eyes of a woman who wanted him badly. He caught your glances, even with your lips on Artemis’s nipples. So Jason pulled you, hand under your chin.

“Fuck her first,” Artemis said.

Jason groaned again, making sure he remembered your name when you laid yourself out in front of him without a bone in you that hesitated. You spread your legs for him, hand over your clit and lip between your teeth. Artemis settled herself bent over at your side, and Jason couldn’t keep his hand from snaking down the Amazon’s spine, her arched back, to her drenched pussy. You were kissing her, and Artemis moved slightly forward so your lips would be lapping at her breasts.

Jason looked up and took in the bliss of cold air for the first time that day when he slid his throbbing, hard cock into you.

Fucking hell, you were tight, even when Artemis had stretched you out with her fingers.

His hand wouldn’t leave Artemis’s pussy, hovering his fingers over her ass, her clit, her hole. He inserted it enough just to hear her whimper, before you bit onto her nipples and she cried out louder than you. But you were screaming, eyebrows up to your forehead as your eyes couldn’t physically tear themselves away from him. Jason, still with all his clothes on, thrust himself hard enough into you to feel your thighs trembling as he bottomed out.

Your hand grabbed Artemis by the hair, and Jason could see your tongues together, hungry and desperate for an outlet of release. He snapped his hips into you harder, fingers curling themselves inside of Artemis so you’d both cry for him.

Then you pulled Artemis by the leg, mouth wet and starving. She kissed you once before crawling to your face, swinging one leg over your head so she was straddling your mouth facing Jason.

“Fuck.” He grew harder inside you, watching you both, his hands already bruising your hips. He pulled up your waist so he could thrust into you even deeper.

Then, craning his head higher, Artemis held Jason by the face, whimpering as your tongue drew out the prettiest mewls from her lips. She kissed him hard.

He hadn’t kissed her in years.

He missed her so much.

Artemis’s tongue was sweet, likely from your juices, but it ravaged every part of his mouth until Jason was sure he knew what you tasted. He held her face, pulled at her hair hard enough to make her hiss more, then, with you crying from underneath her, Jason could see your tongue quickly lapping over her clit to make her jolt. She pulled away, but Jason wouldn’t let her.

His fingers wouldn’t leave her hair. She broke his heart. A long time ago. He needed this.

You tried to make Artemis cum with your mouth, but Jason wouldn’t give you that focus.

Artemis leaned down, so her lips were directly over Jason’s dick thrusting in and out of you. Her breath, so warm, blew onto his cock. He saw stars and fucked you even faster until your incoherent screams were muffled with Artemis’s pussy still on your mouth.

You whined at the hard stop when Artemis pushed him slightly off you, grabbed Jason’s cock, then ran her tongue down his length. Her eyes were on him when she slid him into her mouth, just for a second, before her tongue was on your pussy to earn a cry out of you herself.

She inserted Jason back into you, fingers over your clit as she watched. Then, as Jason pummeled himself back into you, you finally squirted.

You came, and he felt your pussy try to push him out, but he wouldn’t let you. You were sobbing, fingers deep inside Artemis until she, too, was shaking immensely on top of you, but both your screams couldn’t drown out the fire still flaming in his chest. His rage. The darkness. It wouldn’t let him stop, not even when you wept. Artemis’s tongue lapped over your clit and his cock as he pulled his jeans further down so he could bottom out and hear you scream.

He never stopped when they came around him. He stopped when he came. And it took a while. With the anger, the fuel in him that needed more than just a night to put out. He grabbed Artemis by her face and bit onto her lips.

He came for the first time that night. Jason could feel his cock twitch inside you, and you stiffened, feeling his hot load shoot up your cervix. He could feel you clench, tense at first when he slowed his thrusts, before easing in when he finally pulled away from Artemis.

It barely made a dent against his madness. He was so far from done, and the sheets were already soaked. Artemis swung her leg over you, and Jason finally got a good look at your face, panting and spent. You looked pathetic, thinking you could take an Amazon and a Lazarus-enhanced maniac in one night and still have feeling in your limbs by the next hour.

Artemis, on the other hand, was grinning off her cheeks, but she, too, was far from done.

Jason finally took off his jacket and shirt, much to both women’s delight. He was pulled to kneel on the bed, with one of you pulling down his pants and boxers and the other with a tongue all over his pecs and neck. He looked up at the blank ceiling and felt you both all over him.

Artemis liked to have more control, biting into his neck while her hands drew out sighs from his mouth, reaching for his cock to make it hard for her again. You liked being controlled. His hand was on your neck, and you were kneeling, arching your back lower, knowing you were at the bottom of this sex chain. And your mouth, drenching his abs with your drool, was once again teasing his cock.

“Great Akila, I missed you, too,” Artemis moaned.

Artemis pushed him to lie down, neck craned slightly up against the headboard. And he watched you as both your tongues licked down his cock.

He should have bad days more often if this was the paradise that followed. His eyes fluttered to the ceiling, sweat down his skin. His two hands, tangled in both your hairs. Fuck, this was the only thing that could actually get him off. You were both so fucking gorgeous with his cock alternating between you and Artemis’s mouth. You’d suck on his tip, while Artemis would lap her hard tongue all the way down his length. Then you’d follow her, pursing your lips wet with your drool dragging it down his veins, while Artemis dug her sharp nails on his thighs and take all of him in her mouth.

He loved feeling two mouths on his cock.

“Jesus fucking Christ…”

Jason didn’t even notice he was whispering prayers he couldn’t understand. Artemis, with jaws that never ached, forced him all the way up her throat until no part of him was left out. Up and down, she sucked hard.

Y/N crawled up, hands tracing his torso. You were so beautiful with your drool almost down your neck and your hair sticking to your skin.

He finally pulled you to his lips. You tasted different, tasted like Artemis’s pussy. Your tongue was gentler, still with that sliver of hesitation. He didn’t want that anymore.  And he was moaning into your mouth just before Artemis popped his cock out of hers, straddled him with her large, muscled thighs, and slid his dick inside her

And before he let his eyes roll back, or let his mind whisk itself away into galaxies, he pulled you by your legs, letting you straddle his head facing Artemis. Jason’s mouth was on your cunt, still warm from the friction of his dick. You arched your back enough so his hands could hold onto your ass.

Two women on him. Two women making themselves cum on him.

He let the fire take over again. He bent his knees and thrust up into Artemis, relishing at the sound of her writhing while his hips snapped up to her, and he stuck his tongue down your hole until you were clawing at his abs.

He couldn’t see, but he knew you were kissing. He could hear your mouths, wet from drool and cum and sweat. Your hands were on his chest, his abs. He could feel you both trembling.

He moved his hips and heard a whimper out of Artemis. He lapped at your clit and you pulled away from her lips just to sob. He felt Artemis’s hands on his knees just to hold herself up, and she was bouncing harder on his cock, hard enough that any woman would break their pelvis at her strength. He felt a hand, likely yours, touching Artemis’s clit while grazing over his cock. He felt your tongue next.

Fuck, how did it take this much just to feel something?

The pit. The darkness. He was scorching to touch. Every flesh in him burned. The static, the voices, all over him, and they wouldn’t be silenced until his hips were violently thrusting and the Amazon on top of him was screaming his name.

You leaned forward, and Jason looked up, seeing Artemis’s hands all over your back. You couldn’t stop kissing her. And he couldn’t stop watching. He put his focus on his tongue, just for a moment, and wouldn’t take his eyes off you when he let his tongue draw circles around your throbbing clit. When his fingers thrust inside you, curling for no more than a few seconds, you were done for.

You came apart. Again. This time, he let you push him away, convulsing as you squirted all over the sheets next to his head so he wouldn’t drown. A part of that darkness started to light. He needed more. He slapped you, a red mark immediately forming around your ass. Then he shifted his focus again to Artemis, who hadn’t slowed down once from riding his dick.

You were motionless on the bed beside him, even more spent than you already were, watching with your eyes fluttering closed. You watched him fuck your friend with his harsh, unforgiving hips, until the Amazon warrior grabbed her own hair and screamed.

She, too, squirted all over him, all over the bed. The sheets looked like buckets of water had been splashed around in the room all night. Your juices mixed with hers.

But, like he did with you, he didn’t care to stop.

Not until he was coming, hard enough that his whole body was shaking. His hands dug deep into Artemis’s skin, enough that she hissed, and it took a lot of pain just to do that. His cock, she pulled away just enough to see the bottom half of his cock twitching, filling her up.

Jason wasn’t going to let her leave again after tomorrow without his cum dripping down those thick Amazon thighs.

He turned to you, no different from the other humans who passed out because of him, lying still on the bed until you slowly crawled up to Artemis.

Jason didn’t move, his arm over his eyes. He felt the fire finally start to calm down. Beginning to. It wasn’t over. He didn’t think it would be.

The anger in him would have allowed him to fuck a whole brothel and still be left unspent.

He sat up against the headboard, watching you still going at it. It was four am. You’ve been at this all night.  

You might have been human. Still, you wanted more. You showed signs of exhaustion, your legs shaking and giving out.

And you managed to sit up on your elbows, legs spread wide, while Artemis hooked one leg over you and your other leg hooked over hers.

Jason watched you lazily rub your drenched, sloppy pussies together in silence. He liked watching. He liked hearing you both try to make the other scream. You were louder. You had been all night. But Artemis was addicted to you. She reached over to your tits, palm squeezing and holding on while she grinded her hips hard enough so you’d throw your head back in a whiplash. You were so much smaller than her, and still, your bodies melted into each other like they belonged.

She made you squirt. Again. You were embarrassed at this point, flushing red while Artemis still had it in her to grind into you harder.

You made him so hard, it hurt to shift his hips.

He could ask for your number, call you when he needed a good fuck. You were good. You were beautiful. And you lasted long enough.

You could take him.

Jason reached over, grabbed you by the chin, and kissed you while the sound of your thick cum sliding against each other’s pussies mixed in with your muffles.

He let the burning rage in him fuel him once more.

“Lie down and let her eat you out,” he told Artemis.

She didn’t like it when he told her what to do and squinted at him.

“For me, princess…”

She rolled her eyes, slapping his hand away from her chin. He grabbed her face anyway to kiss her before he pulled away to stand over you.

“Make her cum,” he told you.

Then he pulled you hard to the edge of the bed, flipping you over like a ragdoll that weighed nothing, and pulled you up to your hands and knees.

Artemis kept her eyes on Jason, hooded and dark under the dim orange light, when she positioned herself in front of you and spread her impossibly long legs. Her breasts perked up, squeezed by her hands as you licked all the way up from her hole to her clit.

She still wouldn’t break from his gaze, not while she was moaning.

Artemis would probably leave him, again. Tell him he didn’t need her anymore when, in his own way, he did.

He shouldn’t think of that if he didn’t want to be even angrier.

He took it out on you, hand harsh against your ass. He slammed himself into you, unforgiving enough that you fell from your own grip. He was relentless, feeling this curse fill with blackness; it consumed him so much that he let the pain take over. Jason grabbed you by the neck and forced you down against Artemis’s aching pussy.

“I said make her cum.”

The Amazon cried at the feel of your tongue lapping quickly, unbreaking from his gaze on him. She looked like she was on the verge of coming and was rather intrigued. This woman was impossible to impress, and he managed to do just that.

You, on the other hand, were sobbing, trying your best to make an Amazon cum from your tongue, all while being fucked into outer space. He could see bruises forming around your ass, the porn-worthy recoil an image he’d go back to for his nights alone. His hands were harsh, pushing your waist down to arch even further. And his cock, possibly bruising your walls at the violent intrusion. He felt you clench, tremble, but you wanted to make Artemis come first.

Your fingers were in her, slamming themselves up at an angle that looked like it hurt.

And the longer it took you to make Artemis come, the harder he was going to fuck you.

You were screaming so much that he could no longer make out the noises you were making. Tears were in your eyes. You were still only human.

It took a while, enough that you couldn’t hold yourself back. You squirted all over the bed again. It was so easy to make you come, and you still had it in you to keep going. He really had to ask for your number.  

 You were red, high from orgasms, but you continued fucking Artemis with your exhausted fingers despite it.

It didn’t take too long, but Artemis, eyes unbreaking from Jason, came all over your mouth.

Her muscles contorted, her abs twitched, and her long legs quaked to your fingers still inside her.

You thought it would be over.

Jason still hadn’t cum.

He almost threw you to the side, didn’t let Artemis finish with her own orgasm before he flipped her over and started fucking her, too.

Artemis could take more pain than you could. He let it be painful. For him, especially. He let his hips bruise, his cock ache and throb. He let the anger do the fucking. He listened to those voices, which made him even more enraged. His eyes had gone so dark that he almost couldn’t see anything apart from the night.

Artemis was crying. Louder than she had all night.

He’d worn her out before. It took all night, but he’ll do it again.

You were still awake when he thought you’d be passed out by then, though it looked like you were at the last little smidge of your strength. You crawled underneath Artemis, legs spread open until you could meet her lips. Though she was much larger, she could crane her head down, kiss you as a means to hold on. Jason wasn’t slowing down. He watched you hold onto the red hair, pulling by the scalp. Your tears mixed in with hers. Artemis, with her pussy clenching and trembling, his fingers marked her indestructible hips, and she cried out again. Jason didn’t know if she came. All he could see was Artemis trembling out of control.

So he pulled you further down the edge of the bed and switched to your pussy directly below Artemis. Her juices were spilling down his cock. You both stayed put, while it was your turn to sob, your mouth directly facing Artemis’s tits.

It took seconds for your legs to shake as well, so he fucked Artemis again. But it almost didn’t matter when your screams were equally deafening, no matter who he was fucking. You, because you simply didn’t have the voice and energy to scream any louder and Artemis, because it was the loudest she allowed herself to be. Jason slammed into one of your pussies, he didn’t even know whose at some point, then switched to the other. A few minutes, then to the other. Another few minutes until he switched again.

He had so much more to put out. He was only halfway through his demons.

After lasting hours, Jason finally came for the third time that night.

His cock twitched. He looked down. He was inside Artemis when he spilled his cum.

He didn’t let himself finish spurting his seed before he pulled out and spilled the rest of it inside you.

So when he finally emptied out and pulled away, he watched both pussies leaking his cum onto the bed.

Artemis, panting, giggled under her breath.

You were definitely seconds away from passing out.

Jason walked to his cigarettes, pulled out one stick, then let another cloud fill his chest as he watched Artemis slowly flip over to face your pussy, getting a taste of Jason’s cum from you. You did the same thing and licked the rest of his cum leaking out of Artemis from underneath her.

Then you finally passed out on the dry, untouched bed. Artemis laid her back against the headboard, looking more worn out than when they’d fucked the first time.

Jason looked out the window, listened to the morning sirens that called for him. Huh. Fuck them. Not for another day.

He was tired for now, more from the lack of sleep. He’ll let the girls rest. Especially you. He’ll let you sleep until noon until it’s time to fuck again. He’ll wake Artemis up in three hours and fuck her on the sofa so you won’t have to wake up.

Jason threw the cigarette butt out the window and walked to the bed between you. You slept with your head on his lap, Artemis over his shoulder after lightly kissing his cheek.

“Was I good enough for a boy?” he asked.

She rolled her eyes and punched him in the shoulder.

He thought these women would one day fear his anger when he fucked like this. But he’d never once heard them complain.

The fire was being put out. Slowly.

---

TAGLIST:

@littleredwing89 @pricetagofficial @l-inkage @offendedfishnoises @bungunz @boosyboo9206 @estrela-rogers @americasmarauders @lucy-roo @satan-s-ass @shadowsndaisies

[batarella]

I Don't Hate You - Remastered - Chapter 2 (Jason Todd x Reader Series)

You're the meanest girl in school. Everyone is terrified of you. But when you're sentenced to ten weeks of detention at the school's library with another brooding troublemaker, Jason Todd, you find out there is, in fact, at least one guy on earth who isn't afraid of you.

And you hate that.

IDHY REMASTERED EDITION: GENERAL REVISIONS, NEW DIALOGUE, BONUS CONTENT, AND EXTENDED SCENES.

A/N: We start to take a few liberties from the original in this one, folks. chapter 2 might have been my least favorite chapter in the old version, which is why this one is almost a complete revamp with lots of new scenes and dialogues, being written in Jason's perspective instead of Y/N's, and their chemistry being completely different. I hope you like this version better because I definitely do!!

WORDS: 4596 WARNINGS: VIOLENCE, GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS OF INJURY

MASTERLIST

----

“You don’t understand, Alfred.” The whispers thundered. “I’ve never seen a boy so young… do that to a human being.”

Human beings. Killers. Criminals who deserve more than what they get. Bruce decides to overlook the bad when it comes to the pests who don’t matter and never sees the good in those who do.

He could try a lot harder to whisper in a house that big. But if he wanted Jason to overhear, he was doing a fantastic job.

“It’s his first few months with his identity, Master Bruce. The boy will learn.”

“Dick never pulled a man’s jaw out of his head, Alfred. I never worried he would.”

“It might have been an accident.”

Like his fist landing on a jaw that many times would be an accident.

He walked up the staircase out of the cave. He’d heard it all before. Darkness in his eyes, Bruce always says. Barbara mentioned it. Dick’s seen it. It’s all they see in Jason.

“No, Alfred. I don’t think it was.”

He didn’t care if they heard when he slammed the door out of the cave.

---

Jason might have been the first in school to send another kid to the hospital, but the emotional torment you left behind were like footprints from your combat boots.

Already by the first ten minutes in the library, you’ve messed up another shelf just shoving whatever you could into whatever space you could see.

Jason had never seen you wear anything that wasn’t in the depressing end of the color spectrum. You hid a piercing in your lip, too tiny for the school to notice. And the combat boots, heavy enough to break a skull, he believed were what you’d use to break into flesh if you didn’t have anything sharp in you.

A boy started to approach you.

He made sure you wouldn’t hear his feet come up from behind and waited until you’d turn and take notice of him. Smart kid.

“E-excuse me, Y/N?”

He was squirming like a mouse. “Uhm, I’m Jake. From Math c-class.”

Jake’s hands looked like they’d fall off his wrists. You haven’t said a word, and he looked like piss was about to run down his leg. You had a whole cart of yellowing books to place in the wrong shelves. This was not the time to be bothered.

“You, uhm, borrowed my notes.”

You tilted your head to the side, eyes narrowed.

“Can I have them back, please?” Jake squealed.

The only other time Jason had seen a person so afraid to talk to someone else was a henchman telling Joker news he didn’t want to hear. And it was followed by a bullet.

It looked like that was exactly what you were about to do. Your nostrils flared like a dragon’s snout, and Jake frantically backed away.

“I-I’m sorry. I just… You can keep them! Oh fuck!”

Then he backed away too hard, your stone glare locked into him, and slammed into Jason’s chest.

Jason didn’t flinch, but Jake looked like he was on the verge of imploding the minute he caught Jason’s eyes. If he was frightened by you then, he looked absolutely terrified now.

“Jason!?” The boy went white. “D-don’t kill me. I’m so sorry. I’ll go now.”

He could be nice. This school was the most normal thing he had since he was born.

He could put some effort into repairing his reputation.

 “Here.”

You looked like you wanted to hit him with a hardbound when Jason grabbed your schoolbag from the seat and took out a dark red notebook.

Jake’s brain must’ve told all his muscles to freeze in place to survive. He stood motionless, only moving his head to look back at you. But you were no longer looking at Jake. Your eyes were on Jason.

Jake clutched the notebook to his chest, pushed everyone out of his way, and ran out of the library before you could do or say anything about it.

You looked like you were about to set him on fire.

Just to piss you off even more, Jason grabbed a book you just shelved and shoved it into the correct section. He made sure you were watching.

“I will make sure these books end up in your stomach by the end of the day, Todd.”

Ms. Peterson’s shrieking shush rang painfully into your ears. Your black nails dug into the covers of the books, and your jaw looked like it hurt from gritting so much. Jason took the book from you before you’d tear it apart.

“The next time you stick your hand down my shit, I’ll stick my hand right up your—"

“Wherever you stick your hand in, Y/N, how are you sure I won’t end up liking it?” He let his face close enough to yours so you could smell his breath. Anyone else, even Brandon, would have flinched to some degree. You didn’t.

“You fucking disgusting piece of dog shit.”

“Does it absolutely kill you that I’m not shaking at your gracious presence like that poor guy just did?”

“Maybe for your sake,” you spat.

He laughed. “Do whatever the fuck you want.”

“Watch me.”

“That’s torture enough as it is.” Jason grabbed another book you placed in the wrong shelf and waved it over your face.

“Conan Doyle isn’t True Crime,” Jason retorted.

“I fucking know about Sherlock Holmes, smartass.”

“I’m getting really tired of cleaning after your mess.”

“Well, what we’re doing is cleaning up after everyone else, so really what difference does it make?!” Your hiss was hot against his face.

“Do it right. And do it faster.”

“If I promise to shelf these stupid books right, do you promise to get off my ass?”

“If I could waste a birthday wish on that, Y/N, I would.”

“Okay, asshole. Wish granted.”

You snatched the book harsh enough to sting his still bruised wrist and wheeled your cart over to the other side of the shelf. He knew it wasn’t an accident when the wheel almost slammed itself against his toe.

“Agatha Christie isn’t on True Crime, either.”

You looked at him through the gaps of the shelves and flipped him off.  

---

You were far enough away that you couldn’t tell he could overhear, but it would’ve taken halfway across the whole library hall just for him not to catch your hiss of a voice that always found its way to violate his ears.

You only had one friend—the ditziest girl in the whole school and the only one who could deal with your shit, probably because every word you say to that girl would be gusted away by the wind in her ears. Penny, with her sweet voice, whistle-noted her way past the shelves until she was prancing in circles around you. Jason had seen this girl sing at a pep rally a few times. One time, he also saw Penny running down the hallway, screaming as you chased her down the school after you let her to wax your eyebrows, and Penny accidentally tore every pluck of hair off your face. Jason remembered you having to go through a month with no eyebrows on.

“Y/N, why are you arranging books?” Penny asked. It was comical how you were friends when Penny was a human daisy and you were a human cactus.

“Because it’s fun, Penny,” you scowled. “I’m in detention.”

“Is it because you stabbed Maxwell with a pair of scissors?”

“I didn’t stab him!”

“Okay!” The girl looked down at her fingers, curling her wildly red hair. “But you must've done a lot of damage, because you're here with Jason Todd."

“I didn’t do—whatever.”

“I saw the fight he was in.”

“No way, dammit, I really fucking wanted to. What happened?”

Penny’s voice lowered. “I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but I saw Jason punch Brandon in the face and almost knock him out. He tried to fight back, but Jason was really… something. He just kept beating him down to the ground and didn’t stop until Jerry stopped them.”

“Cool,” you laughed. “Why do I always miss out on fights?”

Everyone in school was repulsed at the sight of Jason since that day.

The only repulsion he felt out of you, a seventeen-year-old gorgon spawn, was your resentment over the fact that you weren’t there to watch it.

“Brandon just came back from the hospital. He got a nose job and everything,” Penny squealed. “I’d be careful around Jason, Y/N.”

“Please. Have I ever been afraid of anyone?”

“No. But he probably isn’t either.”

“He doesn’t seem that scary to me.”

Jason stared at the empty gap where he was meant to put the book in his hand.

 “I’ll see you tomorrow,” Penny said. “Good luck with the shelving.”

She skipped her way down the bookshelves, then stopped when her eyes locked onto Jason.

A normal life. From 9 am to 5 pm every weekday, his life could actually normal.

Take care of it.

“Hi,” he said.

Penny swallowed. “Hi.”

“I’m Jason.”

“I know,” Penny nodded frantically. “I’m Penny.”

He looked her up and down, jumping on her toes. “You a friend of Y/N’s?”

She quickly nodded. Her eyes met everything but Jason’s own.

“I’m not gonna hurt you.”

She looked back at Y/N, who watched the exchange with her sharp fingers, making dents on a book’s hard cover.

“Okay, uhm, nice to meet you, Jason.” She shook his hand. “Y/N said you were cool.”

“PENNY!”

She squealed like a puppy and ran out the door.

---

Ten minutes to closing time, just when he’d gotten used to this silence away from each other’s unmarked territory, you came up to him again. And he thought he could get through this day without hearing another god-awful word out of your mouth.

You handed him a book, looking everywhere but at him.

“I don’t know where this goes.”

You looked exhausted. Your hair was a mess. You looked defeated by your library cart and your pride must’ve shriveled away into coal. He, too was exhausted to make fun of you for it anyway, so he grabbed the book and placed it into the right shelf for you.

“What did Brandon say to you before you punched him in the face?”

He almost slammed a book into his forehead.

“I thought we agreed to leave each other alone.”

“Just tell me what happened.”

“So you can gossip to your little friend?”

“No. I’m just naturally curious about all things violent that happen in school.”

“It’s none of your business.”

He took the last five books in his cart and started shelving them while you uselessly trailed behind.

“I told you what happened to me. Now it’s your turn.”

He wouldn’t look at you and focused on the shelves.

“That fucker deserved it.”

“What did he say?”

“Does it matter?” he snorted. “Everybody saw me throw the first punch, but apparently, everyone was blind and deaf when Brandon talked shit to me before that. Watson wouldn’t believe me.”

“I do. I hate that guy. I wish I had sent him to the hospital. All I’ve done is send him to the nurse’s office for a patch of hair I pulled out of his scalp.”

A harsh breath escaped his nostrils.

“Who’d you fight next?” You leaned against the shelf.

“Excuse me?”

“Those bruises.” You pointed at his temple, where a fresh purple mark formed just from the night before.

He shoved the book hard into place.

“How many times do I have to tell you to mind your own damn business?”

“Next time you pick a fight, make sure it’s on my free period.”

Jason never meant to be so keen on details, but his eyes caught so much that he’d end up with information no one was meant to know. You only pulled out your phone for a second, and already he caught the text from your mom. ‘Dad is here, Y/N. He’ll pick you up in a few mins.’

You hadn’t read it yet. At five minutes until close, you shoved your cart to his hip and waved your hand over his face. “You got the rest of those books, don’t you, Todd?”

A human cactus.

You were out the door before he could throw you another throng of curses.

He assumed you looked at your phone just after that, because Jason heard a metal trash can being violently kicked by what sounded like your combat boots. He walked out of the library, seeing garbage all over the mowed grass just outside the school doors. Jason watched you storm out of the campus, walking to the next intersection. It didn’t look like you wanted to wait for anyone to pick you up.

---

“Now.” Ms. Peterson’s shaky hands placed a cart full of books on Jason’s side of the table, with you sitting right across from him. She wheeled over an empty cart to you, then handed you a clipboard.

“I don’t trust you—" she pointed her finger at you. “—to do this yourself. I don’t care if you don’t get along; you two have to do this together. These books were returned this week, and these kids read like they’re tossing them around the fucking house. List down the damages and place them back into the shelves.”

You slowly turned your head to Jason. It felt like bile about to come out of his throat.  

So much for leaving each other alone for the next nine weeks.

Maybe if the old woman tried to be in the same breathing space as you for two hours a day, she’d know better than to force him in your proximity out of pity.

You picked up an old book from the pile. “How are we supposed to look for new damages? These are older than I am.”

“Just look for any crumples on the covers, and flip through them if you see any rips.”

His thumb went through a whole book in seconds, and he gave the book to you. “That one’s clean. Take the clipboard and list it down. Then place it back in the cart.”

 “Fine.” He heard you mumble a curse word, but he wasn’t even sure what it meant.

“The Picture of Dorian Gray. All good.”

You ticked the box on the clipboard beside the title and got the book from his hand, placing it on the cart. While you did that, he picked up another, went through the cover, flipped through the pages, then gave it to you. “Around the World in Eighty Days. All good.”

Another tick. You placed it on the cart.

You could be civil. Or not. Your next move was as predictable as Gotham’s rain showers. But even after checking thirty books, you haven’t commented on the heat, the dust on the pages, or even Ms. Peterson’s blabber. You went through a whole half hour without saying a word.

If only you were this quiet every day, this job might be enjoyable. Flipping through books and getting to read an excerpt before he placed them back on the shelf was nothing he didn’t already do at the manor.

Like this old edition of Shakespeare’s poetry. Looked like it was from the eighties. For a library run by a school, they had a decent collection of classics.

I knew thee not, yet found my thoughts did stay,Where'er thy voice or shadow chanced to fall;Not love at first, but dawning of the day,Whose light grew soft upon my heart's still wall.

Thou art no flame that burns with sudden might,But ember warm that wakes the winter's chill;Each glance a sunbeam, drawing out the night,Unseen, yet shaping all against my will.

The pages were old, almost crumbling under his fingers. Maybe he could bring this back home. Bruce didn’t have this at the manor.

“Dude”

With an outstretched hand, you were watching him read the book.

Jason had never seen you smile until then.

Something in his chest stopped. Just for a moment.

“Sorry.” He handed you the book. “All good.”

It would have been less surprising if you screamed at him. But you didn’t. You ticked off the list and placed the book into the cart.

“You okay?” he asked,

You refused to look at him, sat back, and distracted yourself with the window. “I’m fine.”

He brought up a book with a torn cover.

“I know. What an animal,” you said.

He placed the book on the side like it was toxic waste. “Take note of that.”

Your voice hadn’t raised a pitch all day.

“Come on,” you said after you finished with the last book. “Let’s get this over with.”

“I like it when you’re nice to me.”

You gagged. “Shut up.”

“You getting the hang of this?”

“Don’t get used to it. Give it three days and you’ll be repulsed by the sight of paper.”

“I read every day, just so you know.”

“Right. You have the Library of Alexandria in your billionaire mansion.”

“I do, actually.”

“You’re a nerd, Todd.”

“Funny.”

You only had one cart to deal with. So, without even acknowledging that you work as a team, you did. Jason took the books and told you where to put them. For some, he didn’t have to. After an hour, you still hadn’t strained his ears about how much your wrists were aching.

It took you not being mind-numbingly annoying for him to notice you liked to hum random songs when it got too quiet in the room.

“This one goes all the way up there,” he told you. “There’s a ladder”

“You go up.”

“No. I don’t trust you.”

“I’m not gonna kill you with a fucking ladder, Todd.”

He snorted. “Sure. You’ll just leave me with all my limbs completely paralyzed.”

“I’m not gonna—” you grunted your throat out, “—fine, fine, I’ll do it. Dickhead.”

You shoved him off and carefully climbed up the ladder while he held it in place.

“If you shake this ladder, I’ll make your death look like an accident.”

“I won’t!”

It did cross his mind. Would be funny to see you squeal.

When you were high enough to reach the top, the library doors slammed open and the walls rattled with it.

Ms. Peterson couldn’t shush the ego out of Brandon’s thick, bruised skull. With a crowd of football goons at his tail, the asshole strutted his way down the bookshelves with hands too big and skin too thick to ever know how to turn a page. “WHERE’S TODD!?”

You stopped, startled. Jason kept his hold on the ladder. If he turned his head and caught that fucker’s newly built nose even once, he can’t promise not to sentence himself another ten weeks in this prison.

“Look at that, JASON TODD TOUGH KNUCKLES HIMSELF. In a fucking library?! You think smart enough to read, Todd?!”

Darkness. So much darkness in his eyes. It was all Bruce saw when he looked into them.

He felt fire through his palms.

“How’d you even learn to read?!” Brandon’s voice echoed for the whole library to hear. “Weren’t you FROM THE STREETS? WEREN’T YOU A STREETKID, TODD?”

A normal life. This was his only shot at it. He once lived in the streets. At night, he goes back to fight for it.

He hoped this normality wouldn’t have to shame him for how much dirt got under his fingers when he was barely old enough to run, how the wetness of mud puddles seeping out of concrete felt, just to sleep on whatever sidewalk wouldn’t freeze him into gangrene.

This time, it wasn’t low enough that no one would believe Jason was provoked. Brandon’s voice echoed for the whole school grounds to hear. Then, when he leaned in to Jason’s ear, he almost ripped the wood shavings off the ladder from his nails.

“You might have left that life, but that’s exactly where you belong. Monsters like you deserve hell—”

If it were any second longer, he would’ve ripped the guy’s throat off in one shove.

But he didn’t get to. Instead, he heard a crash. From dangerously close to his ear, something fell from the ceiling. With Brandon’s breath suddenly no longer harassing his ear, Jason finally turned.

The football linebacker was on the ground, unconscious. On top of his newly-constructed nose, now bent the other direction from last week, was a gigantic five-pound copy of an Atlas. Dust from the book’s untouched age flew across the room. Jason looked up.

You made your way down the ladder, dusting your shoulder off. You took one look at your victim and shrugged.

“What? I told you, I hate him, too.”

---

No one was sent to the office.

Ms. Peterson herself ruled it out as an accident. Everyone saw that Brandon was too close to Jason, holding the ladder. You claimed Brandon pushed on the ladder, and you accidentally dropped the book from your clearly unstable position up the shelves. They believed it. Brandon was sent for another nose job. Suddenly, Jason was no longer the only one in school who’d sent a kid to the hospital.

And still, you haven’t said a word to him. Held nothing against him. Mentioned nothing about what you’d just heard.

Non-coincidentally, people finally started coming up to him, patting his shoulder, telling him things they thought he needed to hear. Sorry. You good? Don’t listen to him. He heard none of that after the fight.

He heard none of that from you now.

At 5:05 pm, with all the books shelved and done, you haven’t even left the room.

On a Friday, when you’ve left earlier on busier days of the week, it was that day you decided you wanted to be in school longer.

You were at the table, arms crossed so tight, it must have hurt your hands. And you refused to look up from the wood of the table. Penny sat in front of you, but she was shoving everything into her bag while you stayed put in your seat, motionless.

“What are you doing Saturday night?”

“I’m dog-sitting for my mom’s boss.”

“What kind of dog?”

“Not sure. He’s got paws and a tail. Maybe he’s an English Paw-Tail! Why, what are you doing tomorrow night?”

“What, you think I don’t have any plans on a Saturday night?!?

“No, I never said—"

“I’ve got a lot of things I’m gonna do. Like tons!”

“Okay—”

“But if you want me to cancel my plans to come hang out with you while you dogsit, then fine.”

“Uhm.”

“Fine, I’ll do it.”

“But you don’t have to—”

“I said I’ll do it!”

Penny squealed, jumping on her toes.

“But you owe me, babygirl...” you huffed, ruffling Penny’s head. The girl ran out the door.

You still were in no rush to leave. You settled into that seat like you’ve melted into the wood.

You did not want to go home at all.

Jason eavesdropped enough for the day. He took the seat in front of you. He wouldn’t let you look away from his eyes.

“What do you want now?”

Troubled kids like him—they never had much of a home. And if they did, they were better off not having one at all.

He thought Bruce was full of shit about seeing darkness in his eyes. But it was all one could see, looking into the eyes of someone with so much rage.

Probably not as dark as his. But it was there. Darkness recognized darkness.

“You’re not leaving?”

You turned to Ms. Peterson, still at her desk. “Place doesn’t close until six. I have a paper to do.”

“Can’t do it at home?”

“Not in the mood, Todd.”

You stood up, but you weren’t heading for the door. You headed for the shelves.

You were the only two left behind in the halls. The lights were dim. For once, it was calm. He liked the musk the books gave off when not a lot of other smells were there to disturb it.  

Jason grabbed a piece of paper from a notebook, scribbled on it when he was sure you wouldn’t see, and shoved it into his pocket.

Jason walked over to you. You ran a light finger down the spines of books he’d just shelved that day.

“Is it the classic literature paper we have to do for the semester?”

You rolled your eyes, pulling out a random book from one of the shelves and skimming through the pages.

“I can help you find a book to do your paper on.”

“You don’t have to talk to me just because I dropped a book on your archenemy’s face.”

“That’s not… why I wanna talk to you…” he sighed, running a hand down his hair.

You leaned your back against the shelf.

“What do you like to read?” he asked.

You shrugged. “I don’t know any of them.”

At the top, in bold black embellishments on the spine of the hardcover, he pulled out a book you probably wouldn’t mind.

Edgar Allan Poe: Collection of Stories

“Since you like all that dark, spooky stuff.”

When you weren’t looking, he shoved the paper from his pocket in between the pages.

“What makes you think I like that?”

“Just try it.”

You grabbed the book from his hands and flipped through the pages. On the cover was the face of a thin man with a funny mustache and a black bird perched on his shoulder.

“We don’t have to tell Mother Goose over there.”

He thought you’d have more to say, or anything to argue for no reason than to argue.

But you just looked tired.

“Thank you.”

You met his eyes, finally. A strand of your hair flew over your nose. You didn’t bother to pull it back.

And if Jason could stand to be around you often, he would’ve noticed how, when you did your makeup, you liked to draw attention to your eyes. And you did a good job at that. It was all shades of black, pulling gazes like a black hole. You painted shadows around the lightness. Jason caught sight of the piercing on your lip, as well. You liked to wear a bigger one after school. He wondered what else he’d come to notice if he got a closer look.

Then you walked past him. Like the books, when it was unmarred with the scents of every other student’s sweat and harsh cologne, you didn’t smell like a cactus. You smelled like black dahlias.

He couldn’t help himself. “Aren’t you gonna ask me what I’m doing Saturday night?”

You flipped him off before leaving the room.

You’d find the note eventually.

He wrote two numbers. The first, his. And the second, a help hotline. You’d know which was which.

You never brought it up. Neither did Jason. He owed you, but it wasn’t because you dropped a book on Brandon’s face.  

No one in school spoke to him after the fight except you.

You were the only one who didn’t flinch when he was in the room.

You were the only one in school and at home who didn’t look at him like they walked over an active landmine.

You saw yourself as a monster so much that you looked at him like he wasn’t one at all.

---

TAGLIST:

@littleredwing89 @pricetagofficial @l-inkage @offendedfishnoises @bungunz @boosyboo9206 @estrela-rogers @americasmarauders @lucy-roo @satan-s-ass @shadowsndaisies @deadbeatphobos @thesunxxtodd

[batarella]

I Don't Hate You - Remastered - Chapter 2 (Jason Todd x Reader Series)

You're the meanest girl in school. Everyone is terrified of you. But when you're sentenced to ten weeks of detention at the school's library with another brooding troublemaker, Jason Todd, you find out there is, in fact, at least one guy on earth who isn't afraid of you.

And you hate that.

IDHY REMASTERED EDITION: GENERAL REVISIONS, NEW DIALOGUE, BONUS CONTENT, AND EXTENDED SCENES.

A/N: We start to take a few liberties from the original in this one, folks. chapter 2 might have been my least favorite chapter in the old version, which is why this one is almost a complete revamp with lots of new scenes and dialogues, being written in Jason's perspective instead of Y/N's, and their chemistry being completely different. I hope you like this version better because I definitely do!!

WORDS: 4596 WARNINGS: VIOLENCE, GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS OF INJURY

MASTERLIST

----

“You don’t understand, Alfred.” The whispers thundered. “I’ve never seen a boy so young… do that to a human being.”

Human beings. Killers. Criminals who deserve more than what they get. Bruce decides to overlook the bad when it comes to the pests who don’t matter and never sees the good in those who do.

He could try a lot harder to whisper in a house that big. But if he wanted Jason to overhear, he was doing a fantastic job.

“It’s his first few months with his identity, Master Bruce. The boy will learn.”

“Dick never pulled a man’s jaw out of his head, Alfred. I never worried he would.”

“It might have been an accident.”

Like his fist landing on a jaw that many times would be an accident.

He walked up the staircase out of the cave. He’d heard it all before. Darkness in his eyes, Bruce always says. Barbara mentioned it. Dick’s seen it. It’s all they see in Jason.

“No, Alfred. I don’t think it was.”

He didn’t care if they heard when he slammed the door out of the cave.

---

Jason might have been the first in school to send another kid to the hospital, but the emotional torment you left behind were like footprints from your combat boots.

Already by the first ten minutes in the library, you’ve messed up another shelf just shoving whatever you could into whatever space you could see.

Jason had never seen you wear anything that wasn’t in the depressing end of the color spectrum. You hid a piercing in your lip, too tiny for the school to notice. And the combat boots, heavy enough to break a skull, he believed were what you’d use to break into flesh if you didn’t have anything sharp in you.

A boy started to approach you.

He made sure you wouldn’t hear his feet come up from behind and waited until you’d turn and take notice of him. Smart kid.

“E-excuse me, Y/N?”

He was squirming like a mouse. “Uhm, I’m Jake. From Math c-class.”

Jake’s hands looked like they’d fall off his wrists. You haven’t said a word, and he looked like piss was about to run down his leg. You had a whole cart of yellowing books to place in the wrong shelves. This was not the time to be bothered.

“You, uhm, borrowed my notes.”

You tilted your head to the side, eyes narrowed.

“Can I have them back, please?” Jake squealed.

The only other time Jason had seen a person so afraid to talk to someone else was a henchman telling Joker news he didn’t want to hear. And it was followed by a bullet.

It looked like that was exactly what you were about to do. Your nostrils flared like a dragon’s snout, and Jake frantically backed away.

“I-I’m sorry. I just… You can keep them! Oh fuck!”

Then he backed away too hard, your stone glare locked into him, and slammed into Jason’s chest.

Jason didn’t flinch, but Jake looked like he was on the verge of imploding the minute he caught Jason’s eyes. If he was frightened by you then, he looked absolutely terrified now.

“Jason!?” The boy went white. “D-don’t kill me. I’m so sorry. I’ll go now.”

He could be nice. This school was the most normal thing he had since he was born.

He could put some effort into repairing his reputation.

 “Here.”

You looked like you wanted to hit him with a hardbound when Jason grabbed your schoolbag from the seat and took out a dark red notebook.

Jake’s brain must’ve told all his muscles to freeze in place to survive. He stood motionless, only moving his head to look back at you. But you were no longer looking at Jake. Your eyes were on Jason.

Jake clutched the notebook to his chest, pushed everyone out of his way, and ran out of the library before you could do or say anything about it.

You looked like you were about to set him on fire.

Just to piss you off even more, Jason grabbed a book you just shelved and shoved it into the correct section. He made sure you were watching.

“I will make sure these books end up in your stomach by the end of the day, Todd.”

Ms. Peterson’s shrieking shush rang painfully into your ears. Your black nails dug into the covers of the books, and your jaw looked like it hurt from gritting so much. Jason took the book from you before you’d tear it apart.

“The next time you stick your hand down my shit, I’ll stick my hand right up your—"

“Wherever you stick your hand in, Y/N, how are you sure I won’t end up liking it?” He let his face close enough to yours so you could smell his breath. Anyone else, even Brandon, would have flinched to some degree. You didn’t.

“You fucking disgusting piece of dog shit.”

“Does it absolutely kill you that I’m not shaking at your gracious presence like that poor guy just did?”

“Maybe for your sake,” you spat.

He laughed. “Do whatever the fuck you want.”

“Watch me.”

“That’s torture enough as it is.” Jason grabbed another book you placed in the wrong shelf and waved it over your face.

“Conan Doyle isn’t True Crime,” Jason retorted.

“I fucking know about Sherlock Holmes, smartass.”

“I’m getting really tired of cleaning after your mess.”

“Well, what we’re doing is cleaning up after everyone else, so really what difference does it make?!” Your hiss was hot against his face.

“Do it right. And do it faster.”

“If I promise to shelf these stupid books right, do you promise to get off my ass?”

“If I could waste a birthday wish on that, Y/N, I would.”

“Okay, asshole. Wish granted.”

You snatched the book harsh enough to sting his still bruised wrist and wheeled your cart over to the other side of the shelf. He knew it wasn’t an accident when the wheel almost slammed itself against his toe.

“Agatha Christie isn’t on True Crime, either.”

You looked at him through the gaps of the shelves and flipped him off.  

---

You were far enough away that you couldn’t tell he could overhear, but it would’ve taken halfway across the whole library hall just for him not to catch your hiss of a voice that always found its way to violate his ears.

You only had one friend—the ditziest girl in the whole school and the only one who could deal with your shit, probably because every word you say to that girl would be gusted away by the wind in her ears. Penny, with her sweet voice, whistle-noted her way past the shelves until she was prancing in circles around you. Jason had seen this girl sing at a pep rally a few times. One time, he also saw Penny running down the hallway, screaming as you chased her down the school after you let her to wax your eyebrows, and Penny accidentally tore every pluck of hair off your face. Jason remembered you having to go through a month with no eyebrows on.

“Y/N, why are you arranging books?” Penny asked. It was comical how you were friends when Penny was a human daisy and you were a human cactus.

“Because it’s fun, Penny,” you scowled. “I’m in detention.”

“Is it because you stabbed Maxwell with a pair of scissors?”

“I didn’t stab him!”

“Okay!” The girl looked down at her fingers, curling her wildly red hair. “But you must've done a lot of damage, because you're here with Jason Todd."

“I didn’t do—whatever.”

“I saw the fight he was in.”

“No way, dammit, I really fucking wanted to. What happened?”

Penny’s voice lowered. “I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but I saw Jason punch Brandon in the face and almost knock him out. He tried to fight back, but Jason was really… something. He just kept beating him down to the ground and didn’t stop until Jerry stopped them.”

“Cool,” you laughed. “Why do I always miss out on fights?”

Everyone in school was repulsed at the sight of Jason since that day.

The only repulsion he felt out of you, a seventeen-year-old gorgon spawn, was your resentment over the fact that you weren’t there to watch it.

“Brandon just came back from the hospital. He got a nose job and everything,” Penny squealed. “I’d be careful around Jason, Y/N.”

“Please. Have I ever been afraid of anyone?”

“No. But he probably isn’t either.”

“He doesn’t seem that scary to me.”

Jason stared at the empty gap where he was meant to put the book in his hand.

 “I’ll see you tomorrow,” Penny said. “Good luck with the shelving.”

She skipped her way down the bookshelves, then stopped when her eyes locked onto Jason.

A normal life. From 9 am to 5 pm every weekday, his life could actually normal.

Take care of it.

“Hi,” he said.

Penny swallowed. “Hi.”

“I’m Jason.”

“I know,” Penny nodded frantically. “I’m Penny.”

He looked her up and down, jumping on her toes. “You a friend of Y/N’s?”

She quickly nodded. Her eyes met everything but Jason’s own.

“I’m not gonna hurt you.”

She looked back at Y/N, who watched the exchange with her sharp fingers, making dents on a book’s hard cover.

“Okay, uhm, nice to meet you, Jason.” She shook his hand. “Y/N said you were cool.”

“PENNY!”

She squealed like a puppy and ran out the door.

---

Ten minutes to closing time, just when he’d gotten used to this silence away from each other’s unmarked territory, you came up to him again. And he thought he could get through this day without hearing another god-awful word out of your mouth.

You handed him a book, looking everywhere but at him.

“I don’t know where this goes.”

You looked exhausted. Your hair was a mess. You looked defeated by your library cart and your pride must’ve shriveled away into coal. He, too was exhausted to make fun of you for it anyway, so he grabbed the book and placed it into the right shelf for you.

“What did Brandon say to you before you punched him in the face?”

He almost slammed a book into his forehead.

“I thought we agreed to leave each other alone.”

“Just tell me what happened.”

“So you can gossip to your little friend?”

“No. I’m just naturally curious about all things violent that happen in school.”

“It’s none of your business.”

He took the last five books in his cart and started shelving them while you uselessly trailed behind.

“I told you what happened to me. Now it’s your turn.”

He wouldn’t look at you and focused on the shelves.

“That fucker deserved it.”

“What did he say?”

“Does it matter?” he snorted. “Everybody saw me throw the first punch, but apparently, everyone was blind and deaf when Brandon talked shit to me before that. Watson wouldn’t believe me.”

“I do. I hate that guy. I wish I had sent him to the hospital. All I’ve done is send him to the nurse’s office for a patch of hair I pulled out of his scalp.”

A harsh breath escaped his nostrils.

“Who’d you fight next?” You leaned against the shelf.

“Excuse me?”

“Those bruises.” You pointed at his temple, where a fresh purple mark formed just from the night before.

He shoved the book hard into place.

“How many times do I have to tell you to mind your own damn business?”

“Next time you pick a fight, make sure it’s on my free period.”

Jason never meant to be so keen on details, but his eyes caught so much that he’d end up with information no one was meant to know. You only pulled out your phone for a second, and already he caught the text from your mom. ‘Dad is here, Y/N. He’ll pick you up in a few mins.’

You hadn’t read it yet. At five minutes until close, you shoved your cart to his hip and waved your hand over his face. “You got the rest of those books, don’t you, Todd?”

A human cactus.

You were out the door before he could throw you another throng of curses.

He assumed you looked at your phone just after that, because Jason heard a metal trash can being violently kicked by what sounded like your combat boots. He walked out of the library, seeing garbage all over the mowed grass just outside the school doors. Jason watched you storm out of the campus, walking to the next intersection. It didn’t look like you wanted to wait for anyone to pick you up.

---

“Now.” Ms. Peterson’s shaky hands placed a cart full of books on Jason’s side of the table, with you sitting right across from him. She wheeled over an empty cart to you, then handed you a clipboard.

“I don’t trust you—" she pointed her finger at you. “—to do this yourself. I don’t care if you don’t get along; you two have to do this together. These books were returned this week, and these kids read like they’re tossing them around the fucking house. List down the damages and place them back into the shelves.”

You slowly turned your head to Jason. It felt like bile about to come out of his throat.  

So much for leaving each other alone for the next nine weeks.

Maybe if the old woman tried to be in the same breathing space as you for two hours a day, she’d know better than to force him in your proximity out of pity.

You picked up an old book from the pile. “How are we supposed to look for new damages? These are older than I am.”

“Just look for any crumples on the covers, and flip through them if you see any rips.”

His thumb went through a whole book in seconds, and he gave the book to you. “That one’s clean. Take the clipboard and list it down. Then place it back in the cart.”

 “Fine.” He heard you mumble a curse word, but he wasn’t even sure what it meant.

“The Picture of Dorian Gray. All good.”

You ticked the box on the clipboard beside the title and got the book from his hand, placing it on the cart. While you did that, he picked up another, went through the cover, flipped through the pages, then gave it to you. “Around the World in Eighty Days. All good.”

Another tick. You placed it on the cart.

You could be civil. Or not. Your next move was as predictable as Gotham’s rain showers. But even after checking thirty books, you haven’t commented on the heat, the dust on the pages, or even Ms. Peterson’s blabber. You went through a whole half hour without saying a word.

If only you were this quiet every day, this job might be enjoyable. Flipping through books and getting to read an excerpt before he placed them back on the shelf was nothing he didn’t already do at the manor.

Like this old edition of Shakespeare’s poetry. Looked like it was from the eighties. For a library run by a school, they had a decent collection of classics.

I knew thee not, yet found my thoughts did stay,Where'er thy voice or shadow chanced to fall;Not love at first, but dawning of the day,Whose light grew soft upon my heart's still wall.

Thou art no flame that burns with sudden might,But ember warm that wakes the winter's chill;Each glance a sunbeam, drawing out the night,Unseen, yet shaping all against my will.

The pages were old, almost crumbling under his fingers. Maybe he could bring this back home. Bruce didn’t have this at the manor.

“Dude”

With an outstretched hand, you were watching him read the book.

Jason had never seen you smile until then.

Something in his chest stopped. Just for a moment.

“Sorry.” He handed you the book. “All good.”

It would have been less surprising if you screamed at him. But you didn’t. You ticked off the list and placed the book into the cart.

“You okay?” he asked,

You refused to look at him, sat back, and distracted yourself with the window. “I’m fine.”

He brought up a book with a torn cover.

“I know. What an animal,” you said.

He placed the book on the side like it was toxic waste. “Take note of that.”

Your voice hadn’t raised a pitch all day.

“Come on,” you said after you finished with the last book. “Let’s get this over with.”

“I like it when you’re nice to me.”

You gagged. “Shut up.”

“You getting the hang of this?”

“Don’t get used to it. Give it three days and you’ll be repulsed by the sight of paper.”

“I read every day, just so you know.”

“Right. You have the Library of Alexandria in your billionaire mansion.”

“I do, actually.”

“You’re a nerd, Todd.”

“Funny.”

You only had one cart to deal with. So, without even acknowledging that you work as a team, you did. Jason took the books and told you where to put them. For some, he didn’t have to. After an hour, you still hadn’t strained his ears about how much your wrists were aching.

It took you not being mind-numbingly annoying for him to notice you liked to hum random songs when it got too quiet in the room.

“This one goes all the way up there,” he told you. “There’s a ladder”

“You go up.”

“No. I don’t trust you.”

“I’m not gonna kill you with a fucking ladder, Todd.”

He snorted. “Sure. You’ll just leave me with all my limbs completely paralyzed.”

“I’m not gonna—” you grunted your throat out, “—fine, fine, I’ll do it. Dickhead.”

You shoved him off and carefully climbed up the ladder while he held it in place.

“If you shake this ladder, I’ll make your death look like an accident.”

“I won’t!”

It did cross his mind. Would be funny to see you squeal.

When you were high enough to reach the top, the library doors slammed open and the walls rattled with it.

Ms. Peterson couldn’t shush the ego out of Brandon’s thick, bruised skull. With a crowd of football goons at his tail, the asshole strutted his way down the bookshelves with hands too big and skin too thick to ever know how to turn a page. “WHERE’S TODD!?”

You stopped, startled. Jason kept his hold on the ladder. If he turned his head and caught that fucker’s newly built nose even once, he can’t promise not to sentence himself another ten weeks in this prison.

“Look at that, JASON TODD TOUGH KNUCKLES HIMSELF. In a fucking library?! You think smart enough to read, Todd?!”

Darkness. So much darkness in his eyes. It was all Bruce saw when he looked into them.

He felt fire through his palms.

“How’d you even learn to read?!” Brandon’s voice echoed for the whole library to hear. “Weren’t you FROM THE STREETS? WEREN’T YOU A STREETKID, TODD?”

A normal life. This was his only shot at it. He once lived in the streets. At night, he goes back to fight for it.

He hoped this normality wouldn’t have to shame him for how much dirt got under his fingers when he was barely old enough to run, how the wetness of mud puddles seeping out of concrete felt, just to sleep on whatever sidewalk wouldn’t freeze him into gangrene.

This time, it wasn’t low enough that no one would believe Jason was provoked. Brandon’s voice echoed for the whole school grounds to hear. Then, when he leaned in to Jason’s ear, he almost ripped the wood shavings off the ladder from his nails.

“You might have left that life, but that’s exactly where you belong. Monsters like you deserve hell—”

If it were any second longer, he would’ve ripped the guy’s throat off in one shove.

But he didn’t get to. Instead, he heard a crash. From dangerously close to his ear, something fell from the ceiling. With Brandon’s breath suddenly no longer harassing his ear, Jason finally turned.

The football linebacker was on the ground, unconscious. On top of his newly-constructed nose, now bent the other direction from last week, was a gigantic five-pound copy of an Atlas. Dust from the book’s untouched age flew across the room. Jason looked up.

You made your way down the ladder, dusting your shoulder off. You took one look at your victim and shrugged.

“What? I told you, I hate him, too.”

---

No one was sent to the office.

Ms. Peterson herself ruled it out as an accident. Everyone saw that Brandon was too close to Jason, holding the ladder. You claimed Brandon pushed on the ladder, and you accidentally dropped the book from your clearly unstable position up the shelves. They believed it. Brandon was sent for another nose job. Suddenly, Jason was no longer the only one in school who’d sent a kid to the hospital.

And still, you haven’t said a word to him. Held nothing against him. Mentioned nothing about what you’d just heard.

Non-coincidentally, people finally started coming up to him, patting his shoulder, telling him things they thought he needed to hear. Sorry. You good? Don’t listen to him. He heard none of that after the fight.

He heard none of that from you now.

At 5:05 pm, with all the books shelved and done, you haven’t even left the room.

On a Friday, when you’ve left earlier on busier days of the week, it was that day you decided you wanted to be in school longer.

You were at the table, arms crossed so tight, it must have hurt your hands. And you refused to look up from the wood of the table. Penny sat in front of you, but she was shoving everything into her bag while you stayed put in your seat, motionless.

“What are you doing Saturday night?”

“I’m dog-sitting for my mom’s boss.”

“What kind of dog?”

“Not sure. He’s got paws and a tail. Maybe he’s an English Paw-Tail! Why, what are you doing tomorrow night?”

“What, you think I don’t have any plans on a Saturday night?!?

“No, I never said—"

“I’ve got a lot of things I’m gonna do. Like tons!”

“Okay—”

“But if you want me to cancel my plans to come hang out with you while you dogsit, then fine.”

“Uhm.”

“Fine, I’ll do it.”

“But you don’t have to—”

“I said I’ll do it!”

Penny squealed, jumping on her toes.

“But you owe me, babygirl...” you huffed, ruffling Penny’s head. The girl ran out the door.

You still were in no rush to leave. You settled into that seat like you’ve melted into the wood.

You did not want to go home at all.

Jason eavesdropped enough for the day. He took the seat in front of you. He wouldn’t let you look away from his eyes.

“What do you want now?”

Troubled kids like him—they never had much of a home. And if they did, they were better off not having one at all.

He thought Bruce was full of shit about seeing darkness in his eyes. But it was all one could see, looking into the eyes of someone with so much rage.

Probably not as dark as his. But it was there. Darkness recognized darkness.

“You’re not leaving?”

You turned to Ms. Peterson, still at her desk. “Place doesn’t close until six. I have a paper to do.”

“Can’t do it at home?”

“Not in the mood, Todd.”

You stood up, but you weren’t heading for the door. You headed for the shelves.

You were the only two left behind in the halls. The lights were dim. For once, it was calm. He liked the musk the books gave off when not a lot of other smells were there to disturb it.  

Jason grabbed a piece of paper from a notebook, scribbled on it when he was sure you wouldn’t see, and shoved it into his pocket.

Jason walked over to you. You ran a light finger down the spines of books he’d just shelved that day.

“Is it the classic literature paper we have to do for the semester?”

You rolled your eyes, pulling out a random book from one of the shelves and skimming through the pages.

“I can help you find a book to do your paper on.”

“You don’t have to talk to me just because I dropped a book on your archenemy’s face.”

“That’s not… why I wanna talk to you…” he sighed, running a hand down his hair.

You leaned your back against the shelf.

“What do you like to read?” he asked.

You shrugged. “I don’t know any of them.”

At the top, in bold black embellishments on the spine of the hardcover, he pulled out a book you probably wouldn’t mind.

Edgar Allan Poe: Collection of Stories

“Since you like all that dark, spooky stuff.”

When you weren’t looking, he shoved the paper from his pocket in between the pages.

“What makes you think I like that?”

“Just try it.”

You grabbed the book from his hands and flipped through the pages. On the cover was the face of a thin man with a funny mustache and a black bird perched on his shoulder.

“We don’t have to tell Mother Goose over there.”

He thought you’d have more to say, or anything to argue for no reason than to argue.

But you just looked tired.

“Thank you.”

You met his eyes, finally. A strand of your hair flew over your nose. You didn’t bother to pull it back.

And if Jason could stand to be around you often, he would’ve noticed how, when you did your makeup, you liked to draw attention to your eyes. And you did a good job at that. It was all shades of black, pulling gazes like a black hole. You painted shadows around the lightness. Jason caught sight of the piercing on your lip, as well. You liked to wear a bigger one after school. He wondered what else he’d come to notice if he got a closer look.

Then you walked past him. Like the books, when it was unmarred with the scents of every other student’s sweat and harsh cologne, you didn’t smell like a cactus. You smelled like black dahlias.

He couldn’t help himself. “Aren’t you gonna ask me what I’m doing Saturday night?”

You flipped him off before leaving the room.

You’d find the note eventually.

He wrote two numbers. The first, his. And the second, a help hotline. You’d know which was which.

You never brought it up. Neither did Jason. He owed you, but it wasn’t because you dropped a book on Brandon’s face.  

No one in school spoke to him after the fight except you.

You were the only one who didn’t flinch when he was in the room.

You were the only one in school and at home who didn’t look at him like they walked over an active landmine.

You saw yourself as a monster so much that you looked at him like he wasn’t one at all.

---

TAGLIST:

@littleredwing89 @pricetagofficial @l-inkage @offendedfishnoises @bungunz @boosyboo9206 @estrela-rogers @americasmarauders @lucy-roo @satan-s-ass @shadowsndaisies @deadbeatphobos @thesunxxtodd

[batarella]

I Don't Hate You - Remastered - Chapter 2 (Jason Todd x Reader Series)

You're the meanest girl in school. Everyone is terrified of you. But when you're sentenced to ten weeks of detention at the school's library with another brooding troublemaker, Jason Todd, you find out there is, in fact, at least one guy on earth who isn't afraid of you.

And you hate that.

IDHY REMASTERED EDITION: GENERAL REVISIONS, NEW DIALOGUE, BONUS CONTENT, AND EXTENDED SCENES.

A/N: We start to take a few liberties from the original in this one, folks. chapter 2 might have been my least favorite chapter in the old version, which is why this one is almost a complete revamp with lots of new scenes and dialogues, being written in Jason's perspective instead of Y/N's, and their chemistry being completely different. I hope you like this version better because I definitely do!!

WORDS: 4596 WARNINGS: VIOLENCE, GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS OF INJURY

MASTERLIST

----

“You don’t understand, Alfred.” The whispers thundered. “I’ve never seen a boy so young… do that to a human being.”

Human beings. Killers. Criminals who deserve more than what they get. Bruce decides to overlook the bad when it comes to the pests who don’t matter and never sees the good in those who do.

He could try a lot harder to whisper in a house that big. But if he wanted Jason to overhear, he was doing a fantastic job.

“It’s his first few months with his identity, Master Bruce. The boy will learn.”

“Dick never pulled a man’s jaw out of his head, Alfred. I never worried he would.”

“It might have been an accident.”

Like his fist landing on a jaw that many times would be an accident.

He walked up the staircase out of the cave. He’d heard it all before. Darkness in his eyes, Bruce always says. Barbara mentioned it. Dick’s seen it. It’s all they see in Jason.

“No, Alfred. I don’t think it was.”

He didn’t care if they heard when he slammed the door out of the cave.

---

Jason might have been the first in school to send another kid to the hospital, but the emotional torment you left behind were like footprints from your combat boots.

Already by the first ten minutes in the library, you’ve messed up another shelf just shoving whatever you could into whatever space you could see.

Jason had never seen you wear anything that wasn’t in the depressing end of the color spectrum. You hid a piercing in your lip, too tiny for the school to notice. And the combat boots, heavy enough to break a skull, he believed were what you’d use to break into flesh if you didn’t have anything sharp in you.

A boy started to approach you.

He made sure you wouldn’t hear his feet come up from behind and waited until you’d turn and take notice of him. Smart kid.

“E-excuse me, Y/N?”

He was squirming like a mouse. “Uhm, I’m Jake. From Math c-class.”

Jake’s hands looked like they’d fall off his wrists. You haven’t said a word, and he looked like piss was about to run down his leg. You had a whole cart of yellowing books to place in the wrong shelves. This was not the time to be bothered.

“You, uhm, borrowed my notes.”

You tilted your head to the side, eyes narrowed.

“Can I have them back, please?” Jake squealed.

The only other time Jason had seen a person so afraid to talk to someone else was a henchman telling Joker news he didn’t want to hear. And it was followed by a bullet.

It looked like that was exactly what you were about to do. Your nostrils flared like a dragon’s snout, and Jake frantically backed away.

“I-I’m sorry. I just… You can keep them! Oh fuck!”

Then he backed away too hard, your stone glare locked into him, and slammed into Jason’s chest.

Jason didn’t flinch, but Jake looked like he was on the verge of imploding the minute he caught Jason’s eyes. If he was frightened by you then, he looked absolutely terrified now.

“Jason!?” The boy went white. “D-don’t kill me. I’m so sorry. I’ll go now.”

He could be nice. This school was the most normal thing he had since he was born.

He could put some effort into repairing his reputation.

 “Here.”

You looked like you wanted to hit him with a hardbound when Jason grabbed your schoolbag from the seat and took out a dark red notebook.

Jake’s brain must’ve told all his muscles to freeze in place to survive. He stood motionless, only moving his head to look back at you. But you were no longer looking at Jake. Your eyes were on Jason.

Jake clutched the notebook to his chest, pushed everyone out of his way, and ran out of the library before you could do or say anything about it.

You looked like you were about to set him on fire.

Just to piss you off even more, Jason grabbed a book you just shelved and shoved it into the correct section. He made sure you were watching.

“I will make sure these books end up in your stomach by the end of the day, Todd.”

Ms. Peterson’s shrieking shush rang painfully into your ears. Your black nails dug into the covers of the books, and your jaw looked like it hurt from gritting so much. Jason took the book from you before you’d tear it apart.

“The next time you stick your hand down my shit, I’ll stick my hand right up your—"

“Wherever you stick your hand in, Y/N, how are you sure I won’t end up liking it?” He let his face close enough to yours so you could smell his breath. Anyone else, even Brandon, would have flinched to some degree. You didn’t.

“You fucking disgusting piece of dog shit.”

“Does it absolutely kill you that I’m not shaking at your gracious presence like that poor guy just did?”

“Maybe for your sake,” you spat.

He laughed. “Do whatever the fuck you want.”

“Watch me.”

“That’s torture enough as it is.” Jason grabbed another book you placed in the wrong shelf and waved it over your face.

“Conan Doyle isn’t True Crime,” Jason retorted.

“I fucking know about Sherlock Holmes, smartass.”

“I’m getting really tired of cleaning after your mess.”

“Well, what we’re doing is cleaning up after everyone else, so really what difference does it make?!” Your hiss was hot against his face.

“Do it right. And do it faster.”

“If I promise to shelf these stupid books right, do you promise to get off my ass?”

“If I could waste a birthday wish on that, Y/N, I would.”

“Okay, asshole. Wish granted.”

You snatched the book harsh enough to sting his still bruised wrist and wheeled your cart over to the other side of the shelf. He knew it wasn’t an accident when the wheel almost slammed itself against his toe.

“Agatha Christie isn’t on True Crime, either.”

You looked at him through the gaps of the shelves and flipped him off.  

---

You were far enough away that you couldn’t tell he could overhear, but it would’ve taken halfway across the whole library hall just for him not to catch your hiss of a voice that always found its way to violate his ears.

You only had one friend—the ditziest girl in the whole school and the only one who could deal with your shit, probably because every word you say to that girl would be gusted away by the wind in her ears. Penny, with her sweet voice, whistle-noted her way past the shelves until she was prancing in circles around you. Jason had seen this girl sing at a pep rally a few times. One time, he also saw Penny running down the hallway, screaming as you chased her down the school after you let her to wax your eyebrows, and Penny accidentally tore every pluck of hair off your face. Jason remembered you having to go through a month with no eyebrows on.

“Y/N, why are you arranging books?” Penny asked. It was comical how you were friends when Penny was a human daisy and you were a human cactus.

“Because it’s fun, Penny,” you scowled. “I’m in detention.”

“Is it because you stabbed Maxwell with a pair of scissors?”

“I didn’t stab him!”

“Okay!” The girl looked down at her fingers, curling her wildly red hair. “But you must've done a lot of damage, because you're here with Jason Todd."

“I didn’t do—whatever.”

“I saw the fight he was in.”

“No way, dammit, I really fucking wanted to. What happened?”

Penny’s voice lowered. “I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but I saw Jason punch Brandon in the face and almost knock him out. He tried to fight back, but Jason was really… something. He just kept beating him down to the ground and didn’t stop until Jerry stopped them.”

“Cool,” you laughed. “Why do I always miss out on fights?”

Everyone in school was repulsed at the sight of Jason since that day.

The only repulsion he felt out of you, a seventeen-year-old gorgon spawn, was your resentment over the fact that you weren’t there to watch it.

“Brandon just came back from the hospital. He got a nose job and everything,” Penny squealed. “I’d be careful around Jason, Y/N.”

“Please. Have I ever been afraid of anyone?”

“No. But he probably isn’t either.”

“He doesn’t seem that scary to me.”

Jason stared at the empty gap where he was meant to put the book in his hand.

 “I’ll see you tomorrow,” Penny said. “Good luck with the shelving.”

She skipped her way down the bookshelves, then stopped when her eyes locked onto Jason.

A normal life. From 9 am to 5 pm every weekday, his life could actually normal.

Take care of it.

“Hi,” he said.

Penny swallowed. “Hi.”

“I’m Jason.”

“I know,” Penny nodded frantically. “I’m Penny.”

He looked her up and down, jumping on her toes. “You a friend of Y/N’s?”

She quickly nodded. Her eyes met everything but Jason’s own.

“I’m not gonna hurt you.”

She looked back at Y/N, who watched the exchange with her sharp fingers, making dents on a book’s hard cover.

“Okay, uhm, nice to meet you, Jason.” She shook his hand. “Y/N said you were cool.”

“PENNY!”

She squealed like a puppy and ran out the door.

---

Ten minutes to closing time, just when he’d gotten used to this silence away from each other’s unmarked territory, you came up to him again. And he thought he could get through this day without hearing another god-awful word out of your mouth.

You handed him a book, looking everywhere but at him.

“I don’t know where this goes.”

You looked exhausted. Your hair was a mess. You looked defeated by your library cart and your pride must’ve shriveled away into coal. He, too was exhausted to make fun of you for it anyway, so he grabbed the book and placed it into the right shelf for you.

“What did Brandon say to you before you punched him in the face?”

He almost slammed a book into his forehead.

“I thought we agreed to leave each other alone.”

“Just tell me what happened.”

“So you can gossip to your little friend?”

“No. I’m just naturally curious about all things violent that happen in school.”

“It’s none of your business.”

He took the last five books in his cart and started shelving them while you uselessly trailed behind.

“I told you what happened to me. Now it’s your turn.”

He wouldn’t look at you and focused on the shelves.

“That fucker deserved it.”

“What did he say?”

“Does it matter?” he snorted. “Everybody saw me throw the first punch, but apparently, everyone was blind and deaf when Brandon talked shit to me before that. Watson wouldn’t believe me.”

“I do. I hate that guy. I wish I had sent him to the hospital. All I’ve done is send him to the nurse’s office for a patch of hair I pulled out of his scalp.”

A harsh breath escaped his nostrils.

“Who’d you fight next?” You leaned against the shelf.

“Excuse me?”

“Those bruises.” You pointed at his temple, where a fresh purple mark formed just from the night before.

He shoved the book hard into place.

“How many times do I have to tell you to mind your own damn business?”

“Next time you pick a fight, make sure it’s on my free period.”

Jason never meant to be so keen on details, but his eyes caught so much that he’d end up with information no one was meant to know. You only pulled out your phone for a second, and already he caught the text from your mom. ‘Dad is here, Y/N. He’ll pick you up in a few mins.’

You hadn’t read it yet. At five minutes until close, you shoved your cart to his hip and waved your hand over his face. “You got the rest of those books, don’t you, Todd?”

A human cactus.

You were out the door before he could throw you another throng of curses.

He assumed you looked at your phone just after that, because Jason heard a metal trash can being violently kicked by what sounded like your combat boots. He walked out of the library, seeing garbage all over the mowed grass just outside the school doors. Jason watched you storm out of the campus, walking to the next intersection. It didn’t look like you wanted to wait for anyone to pick you up.

---

“Now.” Ms. Peterson’s shaky hands placed a cart full of books on Jason’s side of the table, with you sitting right across from him. She wheeled over an empty cart to you, then handed you a clipboard.

“I don’t trust you—" she pointed her finger at you. “—to do this yourself. I don’t care if you don’t get along; you two have to do this together. These books were returned this week, and these kids read like they’re tossing them around the fucking house. List down the damages and place them back into the shelves.”

You slowly turned your head to Jason. It felt like bile about to come out of his throat.  

So much for leaving each other alone for the next nine weeks.

Maybe if the old woman tried to be in the same breathing space as you for two hours a day, she’d know better than to force him in your proximity out of pity.

You picked up an old book from the pile. “How are we supposed to look for new damages? These are older than I am.”

“Just look for any crumples on the covers, and flip through them if you see any rips.”

His thumb went through a whole book in seconds, and he gave the book to you. “That one’s clean. Take the clipboard and list it down. Then place it back in the cart.”

 “Fine.” He heard you mumble a curse word, but he wasn’t even sure what it meant.

“The Picture of Dorian Gray. All good.”

You ticked the box on the clipboard beside the title and got the book from his hand, placing it on the cart. While you did that, he picked up another, went through the cover, flipped through the pages, then gave it to you. “Around the World in Eighty Days. All good.”

Another tick. You placed it on the cart.

You could be civil. Or not. Your next move was as predictable as Gotham’s rain showers. But even after checking thirty books, you haven’t commented on the heat, the dust on the pages, or even Ms. Peterson’s blabber. You went through a whole half hour without saying a word.

If only you were this quiet every day, this job might be enjoyable. Flipping through books and getting to read an excerpt before he placed them back on the shelf was nothing he didn’t already do at the manor.

Like this old edition of Shakespeare’s poetry. Looked like it was from the eighties. For a library run by a school, they had a decent collection of classics.

I knew thee not, yet found my thoughts did stay,Where'er thy voice or shadow chanced to fall;Not love at first, but dawning of the day,Whose light grew soft upon my heart's still wall.

Thou art no flame that burns with sudden might,But ember warm that wakes the winter's chill;Each glance a sunbeam, drawing out the night,Unseen, yet shaping all against my will.

The pages were old, almost crumbling under his fingers. Maybe he could bring this back home. Bruce didn’t have this at the manor.

“Dude”

With an outstretched hand, you were watching him read the book.

Jason had never seen you smile until then.

Something in his chest stopped. Just for a moment.

“Sorry.” He handed you the book. “All good.”

It would have been less surprising if you screamed at him. But you didn’t. You ticked off the list and placed the book into the cart.

“You okay?” he asked,

You refused to look at him, sat back, and distracted yourself with the window. “I’m fine.”

He brought up a book with a torn cover.

“I know. What an animal,” you said.

He placed the book on the side like it was toxic waste. “Take note of that.”

Your voice hadn’t raised a pitch all day.

“Come on,” you said after you finished with the last book. “Let’s get this over with.”

“I like it when you’re nice to me.”

You gagged. “Shut up.”

“You getting the hang of this?”

“Don’t get used to it. Give it three days and you’ll be repulsed by the sight of paper.”

“I read every day, just so you know.”

“Right. You have the Library of Alexandria in your billionaire mansion.”

“I do, actually.”

“You’re a nerd, Todd.”

“Funny.”

You only had one cart to deal with. So, without even acknowledging that you work as a team, you did. Jason took the books and told you where to put them. For some, he didn’t have to. After an hour, you still hadn’t strained his ears about how much your wrists were aching.

It took you not being mind-numbingly annoying for him to notice you liked to hum random songs when it got too quiet in the room.

“This one goes all the way up there,” he told you. “There’s a ladder”

“You go up.”

“No. I don’t trust you.”

“I’m not gonna kill you with a fucking ladder, Todd.”

He snorted. “Sure. You’ll just leave me with all my limbs completely paralyzed.”

“I’m not gonna—” you grunted your throat out, “—fine, fine, I’ll do it. Dickhead.”

You shoved him off and carefully climbed up the ladder while he held it in place.

“If you shake this ladder, I’ll make your death look like an accident.”

“I won’t!”

It did cross his mind. Would be funny to see you squeal.

When you were high enough to reach the top, the library doors slammed open and the walls rattled with it.

Ms. Peterson couldn’t shush the ego out of Brandon’s thick, bruised skull. With a crowd of football goons at his tail, the asshole strutted his way down the bookshelves with hands too big and skin too thick to ever know how to turn a page. “WHERE’S TODD!?”

You stopped, startled. Jason kept his hold on the ladder. If he turned his head and caught that fucker’s newly built nose even once, he can’t promise not to sentence himself another ten weeks in this prison.

“Look at that, JASON TODD TOUGH KNUCKLES HIMSELF. In a fucking library?! You think smart enough to read, Todd?!”

Darkness. So much darkness in his eyes. It was all Bruce saw when he looked into them.

He felt fire through his palms.

“How’d you even learn to read?!” Brandon’s voice echoed for the whole library to hear. “Weren’t you FROM THE STREETS? WEREN’T YOU A STREETKID, TODD?”

A normal life. This was his only shot at it. He once lived in the streets. At night, he goes back to fight for it.

He hoped this normality wouldn’t have to shame him for how much dirt got under his fingers when he was barely old enough to run, how the wetness of mud puddles seeping out of concrete felt, just to sleep on whatever sidewalk wouldn’t freeze him into gangrene.

This time, it wasn’t low enough that no one would believe Jason was provoked. Brandon’s voice echoed for the whole school grounds to hear. Then, when he leaned in to Jason’s ear, he almost ripped the wood shavings off the ladder from his nails.

“You might have left that life, but that’s exactly where you belong. Monsters like you deserve hell—”

If it were any second longer, he would’ve ripped the guy’s throat off in one shove.

But he didn’t get to. Instead, he heard a crash. From dangerously close to his ear, something fell from the ceiling. With Brandon’s breath suddenly no longer harassing his ear, Jason finally turned.

The football linebacker was on the ground, unconscious. On top of his newly-constructed nose, now bent the other direction from last week, was a gigantic five-pound copy of an Atlas. Dust from the book’s untouched age flew across the room. Jason looked up.

You made your way down the ladder, dusting your shoulder off. You took one look at your victim and shrugged.

“What? I told you, I hate him, too.”

---

No one was sent to the office.

Ms. Peterson herself ruled it out as an accident. Everyone saw that Brandon was too close to Jason, holding the ladder. You claimed Brandon pushed on the ladder, and you accidentally dropped the book from your clearly unstable position up the shelves. They believed it. Brandon was sent for another nose job. Suddenly, Jason was no longer the only one in school who’d sent a kid to the hospital.

And still, you haven’t said a word to him. Held nothing against him. Mentioned nothing about what you’d just heard.

Non-coincidentally, people finally started coming up to him, patting his shoulder, telling him things they thought he needed to hear. Sorry. You good? Don’t listen to him. He heard none of that after the fight.

He heard none of that from you now.

At 5:05 pm, with all the books shelved and done, you haven’t even left the room.

On a Friday, when you’ve left earlier on busier days of the week, it was that day you decided you wanted to be in school longer.

You were at the table, arms crossed so tight, it must have hurt your hands. And you refused to look up from the wood of the table. Penny sat in front of you, but she was shoving everything into her bag while you stayed put in your seat, motionless.

“What are you doing Saturday night?”

“I’m dog-sitting for my mom’s boss.”

“What kind of dog?”

“Not sure. He’s got paws and a tail. Maybe he’s an English Paw-Tail! Why, what are you doing tomorrow night?”

“What, you think I don’t have any plans on a Saturday night?!?

“No, I never said—"

“I’ve got a lot of things I’m gonna do. Like tons!”

“Okay—”

“But if you want me to cancel my plans to come hang out with you while you dogsit, then fine.”

“Uhm.”

“Fine, I’ll do it.”

“But you don’t have to—”

“I said I’ll do it!”

Penny squealed, jumping on her toes.

“But you owe me, babygirl...” you huffed, ruffling Penny’s head. The girl ran out the door.

You still were in no rush to leave. You settled into that seat like you’ve melted into the wood.

You did not want to go home at all.

Jason eavesdropped enough for the day. He took the seat in front of you. He wouldn’t let you look away from his eyes.

“What do you want now?”

Troubled kids like him—they never had much of a home. And if they did, they were better off not having one at all.

He thought Bruce was full of shit about seeing darkness in his eyes. But it was all one could see, looking into the eyes of someone with so much rage.

Probably not as dark as his. But it was there. Darkness recognized darkness.

“You’re not leaving?”

You turned to Ms. Peterson, still at her desk. “Place doesn’t close until six. I have a paper to do.”

“Can’t do it at home?”

“Not in the mood, Todd.”

You stood up, but you weren’t heading for the door. You headed for the shelves.

You were the only two left behind in the halls. The lights were dim. For once, it was calm. He liked the musk the books gave off when not a lot of other smells were there to disturb it.  

Jason grabbed a piece of paper from a notebook, scribbled on it when he was sure you wouldn’t see, and shoved it into his pocket.

Jason walked over to you. You ran a light finger down the spines of books he’d just shelved that day.

“Is it the classic literature paper we have to do for the semester?”

You rolled your eyes, pulling out a random book from one of the shelves and skimming through the pages.

“I can help you find a book to do your paper on.”

“You don’t have to talk to me just because I dropped a book on your archenemy’s face.”

“That’s not… why I wanna talk to you…” he sighed, running a hand down his hair.

You leaned your back against the shelf.

“What do you like to read?” he asked.

You shrugged. “I don’t know any of them.”

At the top, in bold black embellishments on the spine of the hardcover, he pulled out a book you probably wouldn’t mind.

Edgar Allan Poe: Collection of Stories

“Since you like all that dark, spooky stuff.”

When you weren’t looking, he shoved the paper from his pocket in between the pages.

“What makes you think I like that?”

“Just try it.”

You grabbed the book from his hands and flipped through the pages. On the cover was the face of a thin man with a funny mustache and a black bird perched on his shoulder.

“We don’t have to tell Mother Goose over there.”

He thought you’d have more to say, or anything to argue for no reason than to argue.

But you just looked tired.

“Thank you.”

You met his eyes, finally. A strand of your hair flew over your nose. You didn’t bother to pull it back.

And if Jason could stand to be around you often, he would’ve noticed how, when you did your makeup, you liked to draw attention to your eyes. And you did a good job at that. It was all shades of black, pulling gazes like a black hole. You painted shadows around the lightness. Jason caught sight of the piercing on your lip, as well. You liked to wear a bigger one after school. He wondered what else he’d come to notice if he got a closer look.

Then you walked past him. Like the books, when it was unmarred with the scents of every other student’s sweat and harsh cologne, you didn’t smell like a cactus. You smelled like black dahlias.

He couldn’t help himself. “Aren’t you gonna ask me what I’m doing Saturday night?”

You flipped him off before leaving the room.

You’d find the note eventually.

He wrote two numbers. The first, his. And the second, a help hotline. You’d know which was which.

You never brought it up. Neither did Jason. He owed you, but it wasn’t because you dropped a book on Brandon’s face.  

No one in school spoke to him after the fight except you.

You were the only one who didn’t flinch when he was in the room.

You were the only one in school and at home who didn’t look at him like they walked over an active landmine.

You saw yourself as a monster so much that you looked at him like he wasn’t one at all.

---

TAGLIST:

@littleredwing89 @pricetagofficial @l-inkage @offendedfishnoises @bungunz @boosyboo9206 @estrela-rogers @americasmarauders @lucy-roo @satan-s-ass @shadowsndaisies @deadbeatphobos @thesunxxtodd

[batarella]

I Don't Hate You - Remastered - Chapter 1 (Jason Todd x Reader Series)

You're the meanest girl in school. Everyone is terrified of you. But when you're sentenced to ten weeks of detention at the school's library with another brooding troublemaker, Jason Todd, you find out there is, in fact, at least one guy on earth who isn't afraid of you.

And you hate that.

IDHY REMASTERED EDITION: GENERAL REVISIONS, NEW DIALOGUE, BONUS CONTENT, AND EXTENDED SCENES.

A/N: After five long fucking years, our favorite bitch Y/N is back. I love this story to death, and I've grown so much as a writer since then. I wrote the original in a span of a month, posting a new chapter every day, so I never got the chance to fully proofread or even edit much of it after a single read-through. I wrote this surrounded by the best people on this app, and it was an era of my life I look fondly on until now. I hope you accept me again. And thank you to everyone who stuck around. WORDS: 4024 WARNINGS: MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE, TROUBLED KIDS BEING REPRIMANDED BY THE SCHOOL

MASTERLIST ----

You never bothered to count your visits to the disciplinary office.

Over time, you felt the chair mould itself more into the shape of your ass; the chair that was too cold for you to rest your arms on. The room was the same, stuffy and humid, making you want to take deeper breaths. And the lingering smell of either strawberry or lemon perfume hurt your sinuses.

It was the waiting that made you want to leap out the window.

The Vice Principal’s assistant refused to look up at you from her paperwork. When she finally did catch your eye, she scrambled for something else to look at.

Vice Principal Watson rang you in. The assistant stood up from her desk and walked over to the door right beside you. She didn’t look at you with shame, or pity, or annoyance. She looked at you like you hid a knife under your sleeve. “Ms. Y/LN.”

Slinging your bag over your shoulder, you stomped into the office and made sure everyone in the room could hear your boots.

Watson watched you from the edge of her glasses, and you knew this wouldn’t be any different from your last visits. The room was even stuffier inside. She had a shit ton of paperwork on her desk, one of them with your name printed in bold at the top and several red marks below it. That pile of paperwork grew thicker each time. Now it was an inch thick of incident reports held together by dangling paperclips. Without waiting for her to say a word, you took a seat.

You eyed the woman up and down. Her exhaustion was imminent; exhaustion from you. The bags under her eyes grew a millimeter each time that woman had to say your name. This was the second time this week.

So you slumped onto the chair.

“Y/N.” Her voice was soft. “This is a new low. Even for you.”

“He deserved it.”

“What was it that Mr. Maxwell did to you then? Enlighten me.”

Your eyes trailed around the room, tongue pressing hard behind your teeth until it hurt. “He spilled coffee all over my project.”

“I see,” she started writing down a fresh new incident report to add to the pile. “When did this happen?”

“This morning.”

“And what was it that you did to retaliate?”

VP Watson’s frustrations were boiling out of her skull as she stared at you. You giggled your response.

“I threw a pair of scissors and it landed on his arm.”

She muffled a slight ‘mhm’, taking down notes without looking up. “Were you aiming at his arm?”

You slumped back against the chair. “Probably not.”

Watson put the pen down and rubbed her face with her hands, pulling at her skin until it looked like it stretched out her wrinkles. You looked around at her desk—at the lack of a framed picture Watson usually had on top.

“I see you went through with the divorce.”

“Enough. You’re not funny.”

You laughed, hands folded on your lap.

“You have to give me more details. I can’t rule this out as an accident again.”

“It wasn’t.”

“But it clearly was an accident when he spilled his drink, Ms. Y/LN.”

“I don’t care,” you said, enunciating every word. “Maxwell has to do my project all over again. For me.”

“That’s not how it works, Y/N. Not after you’ve impaled him.”

You always get through days like this. Some days might have had you tear out a piece of your hair each time, but you got through them.

“Just this past month, you sent five kids to the school counsellor crying about the horrible things you’ve said to them.”

“Overreactions.”

“If you can practice just a tiny bit of empathy—”

“I have empathy.” Whatever that meant.

“I’m worried about you, Y/N.” Her arm reached out to the edge of the desk. “You know our counsellors are always welcome to help you.”

“I’m not interested in therapy.”

“You need someone.”

Your exasperated scoff would’ve been heard from the other room. “I know exactly what I’m doing, Ms. Watson.”

She shook her head. “I no longer know how to help you, Y/N.”

“I don’t need help.”

The last time you were here, VP Watson skipped the lecture, handed you the punishment, and you made your way out of the office after just five minutes. Why couldn’t she do that now? Why did she have to drag it out, knowing it could never end differently?

“If you were at the other end of your bullying, how would you feel?”

This was getting irritating. You shifted your aching ass in the seat and pulled at your muscles to stretch. “I don’t know why they gave you this job, Ms. Watson.”

She chose to ignore the insult. You’ve said worse things. Far worse things.

“You cause permanent damage. It would help if you found someone to soften you up.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Language, or you get another demerit,” she pulled out more of her forms. You scoffed and sat back.

“Do you have friends in this school? Someone who would tell you if you step out of line?”

“I have friends.”

“And yet, they’re all afraid of you. Everyone is afraid of you.”

“So?”

“So,” she pinched the middle of her eyes and closed them. “I think you need someone to care about. A boyfr-“

“A boyfriend?” you almost screamed. “What kind of Vice Principal are you?!”

“I am running out of options. And things to say. You’re not exactly driving me sane here.”

“I’ve never had one, Watson. And I don’t plan on having one. Boys are stupid and annoying and dirty.”

“And every guy you meet is terrified of you, Y/N.”

“That’s how I like it.”

VP Watson took her glasses off, wiped them with her shirt, and grabbed her coffee mug from the side of her table. She looked like she was about to spill the hot beverage on her lap to get herself out of this session.

“That shouldn’t be the case.”

“I want to go now.”

“I am here to help my students. No matter how personal it can get. It’s part of my job. And my job is to make sure you’re okay and not terrorizing half my other students.”

You shook your head and stared out the window.

“Someone can really help you, and they’ll be someone you’ll want to change for.”

“I’m not interested-”

“Someone who wouldn’t be afraid of you, not even if you tried-“

The door slammed open, crashing hard against the wall and rattling everything on it. A small man with glasses and a tie hauled a young boy by the arm, who flinched and cursed vilely under his breath. His face was newly bruised, and his knuckles looked sore. He glared at the man, VP Watson, and once he met your eyes, you.

“Ms. Watson-“

“Jerry, I’m in the middle of something.”

Jerry. Your science teacher. He was severely out of breath, drowning in his own sweat. He leaned his hand against a drawer and would not let go of the boy when he struggled.

“I’m sorry. But I couldn’t take it. A fight broke out right outside the cafeteria. I barely made it out of there alive.”

Shit. You’re always missing out on the good stuff.

“Calm down,” Ms. Watson stood up to hold Jerry by the shoulder. “Who started the fight?”

“Jason Todd,” the teacher pulled on the boy’s arm. “This young man right here.”

It was like witnessing a public execution. No wonder people of the old times found them so amusing.

The Vice Principal looked like she had a surge of yet another headache, and your grin had grown far from subtle. Jason’s eyes stuck to the ground. He was fit, looked like he could be on the football team and win a fist fight. And you’ve seen this kid quiet around in the hallways. His dark hair was almost always covering his eyes, and he was constantly studying or reading in the library.

“Mr. Todd. Is that true?”

Todd didn’t look at any of them in the eye, gritting his teeth as he mumbled. “Yes.”

“Jesus,” Ms. Watson silently breathed. “Ms. Y/LN. I’m gonna need you to wait outside.”

“Can’t I just go-“

“No. I have a whole new set of punishments for you. Mr. Todd. Take a seat.”

You groaned loud enough for the whole office to hear you, slamming your hands on the armrests and dragging the chair back. The Vice Principal pressed onto the intercom. “Jen. Make sure Ms. Y/LN doesn’t leave.”

Slamming the door behind you, you crashed onto the cold seat outside the office again, mumbling obscene insults that would’ve gotten you suspended if anyone had heard. Jen, the assistant, finally looked you in the eye, but the moment you glared back with knives in your eye sockets, she looked away.

Someone else was beside you—an asshole from the football team. Brandon looked beaten up, and his brown hair was a mess. Probably who the Todd kid picked a fight with. He looked just as large as Jason, but had a lot more bruises than just on his cheek. Both his eyes were bulging, purple, and swollen, and he held a bag of ice against his right temple. His lip was spurting out blood, and his nose was bent in a horrifically wrong direction. He noticed you staring at him. “What are you looking at, sweet cheeks?”

Your nostrils flared as if flames seethed out of your breath, and your eyebrows raised almost to your forehead.

That glare was enough to make him gulp, even with his throat all sore, and look immediately away from you. “S-Sorry, Y/N. Pretend I’m not here.”

They led the boy to the school nurse, then you shut your eyes hard and leaned against the wall to nap.

Not long after, the door opened, and the Vice Principal looked at you with her arms exhaustedly flailing for you to come in. “Y/N…”

Walking back inside, this time not taking the seat no matter how long she was going to offer it to you, you stood with your back leaning against the door. Todd watched you. You glared back.

You thought the challenge of finding another troublemaker more troublesome than you was impossible, but it seemed to have been beaten, because the Vice Principal looked equally, if not more, distressed than when she only had to deal with you.

Jason Todd looked back at the VP. He didn’t flinch when you caught his eye, not like Brandon did. He looked bored, then Ms. Watson gathered her forms and folded them into a pile.

“Both your behaviors are simply unacceptable. No amount of regular detention will cover it. Especially not when it’s neither of your first times here in my office. Jason, I expected a lot more from a top student.”

Jason didn’t look up from his feet.

Ms. Watson looked like she was preparing herself. “I have a special task that will surely bring both of you to your needed discipline. Both of you will serve as assistants at our school library from three pm to five pm everyday for the next ten weeks.”

Absolutely not.

This never happened.

Detention never lasted more than a week. And it was always sitting at a desk chair for an hour, counting the hands of the clock in silence. That, you could take. You’d gladly stare at nothing for an hour a day for the rest of high school if need be.

Jason looked no more delighted, slowly turning his head at you as if the punchline of this joke of a punishment was you and not the library.

“With her?!” he cried.

You didn’t have the time to be offended.

“NO!”

“Neither of you is changing my mind. You start today.” She pressed on her intercom. “Jen. Lead these two to the library.”

You heard mumbles from the other line, though you could barely hear anything at all when sirens were blasting into your eardrums.

“You’re right. Call in the security guard for Y/N.”

If you could see your intestines, you’d witness them uncurling and flailing around in your stomach in an attempt to grab onto anything and stop you from being dragged into the library. Your screaming, since none came from your mouth, steamed out of your ears. You elbowed the security guard when he grabbed you by the arm.

“Don’t touch me,” you sneered. “I can walk there myself.”

---

Three pm. You should be at home, napping, not standing in the fucking school library with some kid with a bruised face.

The librarian wasted no time with niceties and handed you both a monstrous pile of books in two unorganized carts. You pressed a finger down the bridge of your nose to stop the explosion waiting to seep out of your vocal cords.

The librarian, Ms. Peterson, looked like every stereotype of the profession; it was comical. Her cat-eye glasses were sharp, and her back arched so much she was standing right up to your chest. Her white hair fell onto the books, and you had to brush off a strand that fell on your black sleeve.

“Place these back on the shelves. By genre. By author. Alphabetical.”

“Who even reads books anymore?”

Your prison cellmate looked at you like you had insulted his mother.

“Smart people do.”

This guy, so bold as to insult you to your face, had obviously never seen you shut a locker on a guy’s knuckles and secured it with a padlock. Your head turned slowly.

“What’s that supposed to mean, dickhead?”

“Start placing those books on the shelves, Y/N.” He spat out your name like it was a curse.

So he obviously knew who you were. He just didn’t care. Todd took his cart and reeled it over to the shelves. You forcibly pulled on your own cart, the wheel squeaking and almost falling out of the socket, and parked it right beside Jason. He spared you no glance, even at your attempts to intimidate him with your eye-knives.

“What are you in for, anyway?” he asked.

You chucked a book way too harshly into the shelf without even checking the labels. “None of your goddamn business.”

“Tell me.”

You took out another book. Without even looking at the cover, you placed it on the first available space you could see. “You know that Maxwell kid?”

“The guy who spills his coffee on the table all the time?”

“He spilled it on my project. I worked on it all day.”

He watched you arrange a book. “What did you do to him?”

“I threw a pair of scissors. It landed on his arm.”

“Jesus.”

One after another, onto the same shelf. Jason glanced at your half hour’s work, sighed a huge weight out of his lungs, then took out the books you’d just stuffed into the shelves.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“Be quiet. This is a library.”

Your brain ought to have been microwaved by your head from how much it was flaming at the sound of him. “Leave me alone, Todd.”

“You’re arranging them all wrong. These are classic fiction, which belong all the way over there,” he pointed to the shelf beside you. “This shelf is for poetry. See?”

You grabbed the cart, really feeling the steam ring out of your ears if it hadn’t run out already. Eye knives.

Yet Jason’s dark eyes looked no less homicidal than yours. No fear. No intimidation. “Stop wasting my time, Wednesday Adams.”

“You little sh-“

“SHH!” Ms. Peterson’s shrill voice echoed like the shriek of a large bat. Everyone looked up from their books, then turned to you.

You stepped back and grabbed your cart, cursing as Jason snickered beneath his breath.

If it were anyone else interacting with you, they’d be crying out the door.

You stayed at the classic fiction section, placing the books more gently onto the spaces. Your boots stood on their tiptoes when you had to reach the higher shelf. That was all you did for another half hour.

“Did you hear?”

Whispering voices were on the other side of the shelf you arranged. A girl and a guy, leaning against the corner at the farthest end. You heard never to go into that aisle if you didn’t want to see two kids humping each other in the middle of a school day

“Y/FN stabbed Maxwell with scissors in his arm. They said it bled all over the cafeteria floor.”

You scoffed. You threw the scissors, not stabbed them into flesh. And he didn’t bleed all over the floor. The blood barely even spurted out into the guy’s shirt.

“She’s here. On library duty.”

“No way.”

“She deserves it.”

“Bitch.”

You felt the urge to drive the book spines into these two people’s eye sockets.

Before you could, a crowd dispersed out of the campus gates. It was Brandon, being walked into a car with bandages around his head. The football linebacker had his whole entourage of goons surround him while the onlookers pushed each other for a glimpse of his ruined face. He did a good job hiding it with the bandages. Though knowing the guy, you knew he’d never want the school to see how he’d just gotten beaten into a bruised piece of fruit.

Everyone in that library stopped what they were doing and stared at the football player’s overly dramatic exit out of school out the window, before they turned their heads at Jason Todd.

Jason looked at his feet, his bruised cheeks now red, his eyes dark even with the lights directly above him, and his knuckles trembling over the cart’s grip.

“Jason Todd’s here on detention, too.”

“Heard he almost killed Brandon.”

“Broke his nose. And his whole face. Guy could barely breathe. Heard he has to get it reconstructed.”

“Jesus, what an asshole.”

“At least Y/N’s never sent anyone to the hospital. He’s even worse than her.”

Jason heard everything. He stopped with his books, teeth grinding into his lips so much it looked painful. There was that darkness, the flares from his eyes that you saw back in the office. His wrists trembled like they wanted to hit something again. And the cart looked fragile being wrapped around with his bruised fingers and looking like they’d break at a single pull.

You could’ve sworn you saw the handlebars of the cart bend the wrong way when he lost his grip. The large veins in his arms throbbed. And his eyes darted off to different parts of the floor when the whispers came from every corner of the library.

When he pushed the cart enough to almost tumble it all over the floor, you admit you might have flinched. But you refused to look away even when you caught his eyes burning red.

Another half hour later, you heard disgustingly wet noises from horny teenagers’ lips. The couple with a lot to say about you and Jason were now eating at each other’s faces like licking cannibals. You remembered what that corner was called. It was the Boner Aisle.

“HEY!”

Your feet almost quaked the floors when you stomped. The couple choked the second they saw you turn the corner, trembling with their mouths wet and their arms tangled around each other’s limbs.

“OUT!”

They scrambled out the door, knowing better than to look you in the eye.

Ms. Peterson went up to you, proudly nodding at the now-empty Boner Aisle.

“Fifty years in this library, and not one assistant has managed to scare these twists off from groping each other’s privates. Only person who did was, well, me.”

You shrugged.

“Good job. You might actually be of use.”

You shrugged as the old lady waddled her way back to her desk.

Then, you caught Jason’s eye. That was the first time you’ve seen him smile at you, before he occupied himself with another book from the cart.

---

The day started to dim. At almost five pm, you barely made it halfway through your cart, while Jason had just a few books unshelved. With the last few books, your aching wrist shoved them on top of the other books’ spines. Never mind if the old woman would have an aneurysm if she caught you.

The highest shelf was far beyond your reach, even on your toes. It was five minutes to five o’clock, and you just wanted to put this last book before you’d get the hell out of this place.

“Need help?”

Your jaw started to hurt from the amount of clenching you’ve done that day.

But you were exhausted, handing the book to him even if whatever was left of your pride seethed out into nothingness. His taller frame was able to place the book onto the shelf without much effort, and you kept your arms folded while he turned his attention to you with a large arm against the shelf.

At least he was nice to look at.

“Do you have this whole library memorized, or are you just that much of a nerd?”

“The second one,” he snorted. “It’s really not that hard if you know these books.”

“You know all these books?”

Jason shrugged. “Most of them.”

“You’ve read them or do you just know of them?”

“Read them. I have a library of my own back home.”

“Wait,” you pointed the spine of a sharp book near his chest, “no fucking way. You’re the new Wayne kid.”

Like finding shit at the bottom of his soles, he looked like he wanted to barf.

“So you’re rich and you’re in detention?” you laughed. “Shouldn’t you be in a boarding school?”

“I was. Didn’t end well. That’s why I’m here. With you.” Those words sneered out of his lips like it was the filthiest thing to come out of it.

You flipped through the pages and slipped it between two books you didn’t check.

“Stop it,” he mumbled, taking the book and placing it into the correct shelf. “It has to be alphabetical. Do you not know the alphabet?”

“Maybe I just like seeing you squirm.”

“If we’re gonna be stuck here for the next ten weeks, we might as well get along.”

“Wasn’t it you who hated the idea of being stuck here with me?” you scoffed. “And don’t take it personally. I’m horrible to everyone.”

“They don’t have the blessing of spending two hours with you every day,” he sneered. “But maybe this won’t be so bad if you actually do your job right.”

 “I’d rather slam my tongue in a car door.”

“Unfortunately for me, I brought a bike.”

Your thumbs were a trigger away from pressing into his eyes.

“I’ll try my best to tolerate you. You can do the same.” He stuck his newly bruised hand out for you to shake.

Gossip, you can handle. Kids screaming and running at the sound of your boots down the hall, it exhilarated you. But Jason Todd, not only driving imaginary screwdrivers into your ears with every word out of his mouth, but taunting you as if your retorts were no threat to him—every organ in your body wanted to implode.

Just how troubled was this guy? You’ve heard of fist fights, sure. But they didn’t happen too often. You’ve seen him with bruises on his face, with a new one popping up each time you saw him in school. Every guy on the football team did. But Jason wasn’t on the team. Where did those bruises come from?

With how everyone whispered Jason’s name, it sounded like you should be the one afraid of him.

You laughed.

You liked a challenge.

Putting on the biggest fake smile, you grabbed Jason’s hand, shook it, and gripped it with enough force to break his bruised knuckles.

“Mother fucker.”

“Hmm.” Another fake smile. “Happy tolerating.”

Five pm. You stormed out of the library before he could say anything more.

---

NOTE: Y/N IS HEAVILY INSPIRED BY JADE WEST FROM VICTORIOUS. THE ORIGINAL SERIES IS COMPLETE AND POSTED HERE ON TUMBLR AND AO3.

RESETING MY TAGLIST! LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT IN TAGLIST:

@littleredwing89 @pricetagofficial @l-inkage @offendedfishnoises @bungunz @boosyboo9206 @estrela-rogers @americasmarauders @lucy-roo @satan-s-ass @shadowsndaisies

[batarella]

I Don't Hate You - Remastered - Chapter 1 (Jason Todd x Reader Series)

You're the meanest girl in school. Everyone is terrified of you. But when you're sentenced to ten weeks of detention at the school's library with another brooding troublemaker, Jason Todd, you find out there is, in fact, at least one guy on earth who isn't afraid of you.

And you hate that.

IDHY REMASTERED EDITION: GENERAL REVISIONS, NEW DIALOGUE, BONUS CONTENT, AND EXTENDED SCENES.

A/N: After five long fucking years, our favorite bitch Y/N is back. I love this story to death, and I've grown so much as a writer since then. I wrote the original in a span of a month, posting a new chapter every day, so I never got the chance to fully proofread or even edit much of it after a single read-through. I wrote this surrounded by the best people on this app, and it was an era of my life I look fondly on until now. I hope you accept me again. And thank you to everyone who stuck around. WORDS: 4024 WARNINGS: MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE, TROUBLED KIDS BEING REPRIMANDED BY THE SCHOOL

MASTERLIST ----

You never bothered to count your visits to the disciplinary office.

Over time, you felt the chair mould itself more into the shape of your ass; the chair that was too cold for you to rest your arms on. The room was the same, stuffy and humid, making you want to take deeper breaths. And the lingering smell of either strawberry or lemon perfume hurt your sinuses.

It was the waiting that made you want to leap out the window.

The Vice Principal’s assistant refused to look up at you from her paperwork. When she finally did catch your eye, she scrambled for something else to look at.

Vice Principal Watson rang you in. The assistant stood up from her desk and walked over to the door right beside you. She didn’t look at you with shame, or pity, or annoyance. She looked at you like you hid a knife under your sleeve. “Ms. Y/LN.”

Slinging your bag over your shoulder, you stomped into the office and made sure everyone in the room could hear your boots.

Watson watched you from the edge of her glasses, and you knew this wouldn’t be any different from your last visits. The room was even stuffier inside. She had a shit ton of paperwork on her desk, one of them with your name printed in bold at the top and several red marks below it. That pile of paperwork grew thicker each time. Now it was an inch thick of incident reports held together by dangling paperclips. Without waiting for her to say a word, you took a seat.

You eyed the woman up and down. Her exhaustion was imminent; exhaustion from you. The bags under her eyes grew a millimeter each time that woman had to say your name. This was the second time this week.

So you slumped onto the chair.

“Y/N.” Her voice was soft. “This is a new low. Even for you.”

“He deserved it.”

“What was it that Mr. Maxwell did to you then? Enlighten me.”

Your eyes trailed around the room, tongue pressing hard behind your teeth until it hurt. “He spilled coffee all over my project.”

“I see,” she started writing down a fresh new incident report to add to the pile. “When did this happen?”

“This morning.”

“And what was it that you did to retaliate?”

VP Watson’s frustrations were boiling out of her skull as she stared at you. You giggled your response.

“I threw a pair of scissors and it landed on his arm.”

She muffled a slight ‘mhm’, taking down notes without looking up. “Were you aiming at his arm?”

You slumped back against the chair. “Probably not.”

Watson put the pen down and rubbed her face with her hands, pulling at her skin until it looked like it stretched out her wrinkles. You looked around at her desk—at the lack of a framed picture Watson usually had on top.

“I see you went through with the divorce.”

“Enough. You’re not funny.”

You laughed, hands folded on your lap.

“You have to give me more details. I can’t rule this out as an accident again.”

“It wasn’t.”

“But it clearly was an accident when he spilled his drink, Ms. Y/LN.”

“I don’t care,” you said, enunciating every word. “Maxwell has to do my project all over again. For me.”

“That’s not how it works, Y/N. Not after you’ve impaled him.”

You always get through days like this. Some days might have had you tear out a piece of your hair each time, but you got through them.

“Just this past month, you sent five kids to the school counsellor crying about the horrible things you’ve said to them.”

“Overreactions.”

“If you can practice just a tiny bit of empathy—”

“I have empathy.” Whatever that meant.

“I’m worried about you, Y/N.” Her arm reached out to the edge of the desk. “You know our counsellors are always welcome to help you.”

“I’m not interested in therapy.”

“You need someone.”

Your exasperated scoff would’ve been heard from the other room. “I know exactly what I’m doing, Ms. Watson.”

She shook her head. “I no longer know how to help you, Y/N.”

“I don’t need help.”

The last time you were here, VP Watson skipped the lecture, handed you the punishment, and you made your way out of the office after just five minutes. Why couldn’t she do that now? Why did she have to drag it out, knowing it could never end differently?

“If you were at the other end of your bullying, how would you feel?”

This was getting irritating. You shifted your aching ass in the seat and pulled at your muscles to stretch. “I don’t know why they gave you this job, Ms. Watson.”

She chose to ignore the insult. You’ve said worse things. Far worse things.

“You cause permanent damage. It would help if you found someone to soften you up.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Language, or you get another demerit,” she pulled out more of her forms. You scoffed and sat back.

“Do you have friends in this school? Someone who would tell you if you step out of line?”

“I have friends.”

“And yet, they’re all afraid of you. Everyone is afraid of you.”

“So?”

“So,” she pinched the middle of her eyes and closed them. “I think you need someone to care about. A boyfr-“

“A boyfriend?” you almost screamed. “What kind of Vice Principal are you?!”

“I am running out of options. And things to say. You’re not exactly driving me sane here.”

“I’ve never had one, Watson. And I don’t plan on having one. Boys are stupid and annoying and dirty.”

“And every guy you meet is terrified of you, Y/N.”

“That’s how I like it.”

VP Watson took her glasses off, wiped them with her shirt, and grabbed her coffee mug from the side of her table. She looked like she was about to spill the hot beverage on her lap to get herself out of this session.

“That shouldn’t be the case.”

“I want to go now.”

“I am here to help my students. No matter how personal it can get. It’s part of my job. And my job is to make sure you’re okay and not terrorizing half my other students.”

You shook your head and stared out the window.

“Someone can really help you, and they’ll be someone you’ll want to change for.”

“I’m not interested-”

“Someone who wouldn’t be afraid of you, not even if you tried-“

The door slammed open, crashing hard against the wall and rattling everything on it. A small man with glasses and a tie hauled a young boy by the arm, who flinched and cursed vilely under his breath. His face was newly bruised, and his knuckles looked sore. He glared at the man, VP Watson, and once he met your eyes, you.

“Ms. Watson-“

“Jerry, I’m in the middle of something.”

Jerry. Your science teacher. He was severely out of breath, drowning in his own sweat. He leaned his hand against a drawer and would not let go of the boy when he struggled.

“I’m sorry. But I couldn’t take it. A fight broke out right outside the cafeteria. I barely made it out of there alive.”

Shit. You’re always missing out on the good stuff.

“Calm down,” Ms. Watson stood up to hold Jerry by the shoulder. “Who started the fight?”

“Jason Todd,” the teacher pulled on the boy’s arm. “This young man right here.”

It was like witnessing a public execution. No wonder people of the old times found them so amusing.

The Vice Principal looked like she had a surge of yet another headache, and your grin had grown far from subtle. Jason’s eyes stuck to the ground. He was fit, looked like he could be on the football team and win a fist fight. And you’ve seen this kid quiet around in the hallways. His dark hair was almost always covering his eyes, and he was constantly studying or reading in the library.

“Mr. Todd. Is that true?”

Todd didn’t look at any of them in the eye, gritting his teeth as he mumbled. “Yes.”

“Jesus,” Ms. Watson silently breathed. “Ms. Y/LN. I’m gonna need you to wait outside.”

“Can’t I just go-“

“No. I have a whole new set of punishments for you. Mr. Todd. Take a seat.”

You groaned loud enough for the whole office to hear you, slamming your hands on the armrests and dragging the chair back. The Vice Principal pressed onto the intercom. “Jen. Make sure Ms. Y/LN doesn’t leave.”

Slamming the door behind you, you crashed onto the cold seat outside the office again, mumbling obscene insults that would’ve gotten you suspended if anyone had heard. Jen, the assistant, finally looked you in the eye, but the moment you glared back with knives in your eye sockets, she looked away.

Someone else was beside you—an asshole from the football team. Brandon looked beaten up, and his brown hair was a mess. Probably who the Todd kid picked a fight with. He looked just as large as Jason, but had a lot more bruises than just on his cheek. Both his eyes were bulging, purple, and swollen, and he held a bag of ice against his right temple. His lip was spurting out blood, and his nose was bent in a horrifically wrong direction. He noticed you staring at him. “What are you looking at, sweet cheeks?”

Your nostrils flared as if flames seethed out of your breath, and your eyebrows raised almost to your forehead.

That glare was enough to make him gulp, even with his throat all sore, and look immediately away from you. “S-Sorry, Y/N. Pretend I’m not here.”

They led the boy to the school nurse, then you shut your eyes hard and leaned against the wall to nap.

Not long after, the door opened, and the Vice Principal looked at you with her arms exhaustedly flailing for you to come in. “Y/N…”

Walking back inside, this time not taking the seat no matter how long she was going to offer it to you, you stood with your back leaning against the door. Todd watched you. You glared back.

You thought the challenge of finding another troublemaker more troublesome than you was impossible, but it seemed to have been beaten, because the Vice Principal looked equally, if not more, distressed than when she only had to deal with you.

Jason Todd looked back at the VP. He didn’t flinch when you caught his eye, not like Brandon did. He looked bored, then Ms. Watson gathered her forms and folded them into a pile.

“Both your behaviors are simply unacceptable. No amount of regular detention will cover it. Especially not when it’s neither of your first times here in my office. Jason, I expected a lot more from a top student.”

Jason didn’t look up from his feet.

Ms. Watson looked like she was preparing herself. “I have a special task that will surely bring both of you to your needed discipline. Both of you will serve as assistants at our school library from three pm to five pm everyday for the next ten weeks.”

Absolutely not.

This never happened.

Detention never lasted more than a week. And it was always sitting at a desk chair for an hour, counting the hands of the clock in silence. That, you could take. You’d gladly stare at nothing for an hour a day for the rest of high school if need be.

Jason looked no more delighted, slowly turning his head at you as if the punchline of this joke of a punishment was you and not the library.

“With her?!” he cried.

You didn’t have the time to be offended.

“NO!”

“Neither of you is changing my mind. You start today.” She pressed on her intercom. “Jen. Lead these two to the library.”

You heard mumbles from the other line, though you could barely hear anything at all when sirens were blasting into your eardrums.

“You’re right. Call in the security guard for Y/N.”

If you could see your intestines, you’d witness them uncurling and flailing around in your stomach in an attempt to grab onto anything and stop you from being dragged into the library. Your screaming, since none came from your mouth, steamed out of your ears. You elbowed the security guard when he grabbed you by the arm.

“Don’t touch me,” you sneered. “I can walk there myself.”

---

Three pm. You should be at home, napping, not standing in the fucking school library with some kid with a bruised face.

The librarian wasted no time with niceties and handed you both a monstrous pile of books in two unorganized carts. You pressed a finger down the bridge of your nose to stop the explosion waiting to seep out of your vocal cords.

The librarian, Ms. Peterson, looked like every stereotype of the profession; it was comical. Her cat-eye glasses were sharp, and her back arched so much she was standing right up to your chest. Her white hair fell onto the books, and you had to brush off a strand that fell on your black sleeve.

“Place these back on the shelves. By genre. By author. Alphabetical.”

“Who even reads books anymore?”

Your prison cellmate looked at you like you had insulted his mother.

“Smart people do.”

This guy, so bold as to insult you to your face, had obviously never seen you shut a locker on a guy’s knuckles and secured it with a padlock. Your head turned slowly.

“What’s that supposed to mean, dickhead?”

“Start placing those books on the shelves, Y/N.” He spat out your name like it was a curse.

So he obviously knew who you were. He just didn’t care. Todd took his cart and reeled it over to the shelves. You forcibly pulled on your own cart, the wheel squeaking and almost falling out of the socket, and parked it right beside Jason. He spared you no glance, even at your attempts to intimidate him with your eye-knives.

“What are you in for, anyway?” he asked.

You chucked a book way too harshly into the shelf without even checking the labels. “None of your goddamn business.”

“Tell me.”

You took out another book. Without even looking at the cover, you placed it on the first available space you could see. “You know that Maxwell kid?”

“The guy who spills his coffee on the table all the time?”

“He spilled it on my project. I worked on it all day.”

He watched you arrange a book. “What did you do to him?”

“I threw a pair of scissors. It landed on his arm.”

“Jesus.”

One after another, onto the same shelf. Jason glanced at your half hour’s work, sighed a huge weight out of his lungs, then took out the books you’d just stuffed into the shelves.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“Be quiet. This is a library.”

Your brain ought to have been microwaved by your head from how much it was flaming at the sound of him. “Leave me alone, Todd.”

“You’re arranging them all wrong. These are classic fiction, which belong all the way over there,” he pointed to the shelf beside you. “This shelf is for poetry. See?”

You grabbed the cart, really feeling the steam ring out of your ears if it hadn’t run out already. Eye knives.

Yet Jason’s dark eyes looked no less homicidal than yours. No fear. No intimidation. “Stop wasting my time, Wednesday Adams.”

“You little sh-“

“SHH!” Ms. Peterson’s shrill voice echoed like the shriek of a large bat. Everyone looked up from their books, then turned to you.

You stepped back and grabbed your cart, cursing as Jason snickered beneath his breath.

If it were anyone else interacting with you, they’d be crying out the door.

You stayed at the classic fiction section, placing the books more gently onto the spaces. Your boots stood on their tiptoes when you had to reach the higher shelf. That was all you did for another half hour.

“Did you hear?”

Whispering voices were on the other side of the shelf you arranged. A girl and a guy, leaning against the corner at the farthest end. You heard never to go into that aisle if you didn’t want to see two kids humping each other in the middle of a school day

“Y/FN stabbed Maxwell with scissors in his arm. They said it bled all over the cafeteria floor.”

You scoffed. You threw the scissors, not stabbed them into flesh. And he didn’t bleed all over the floor. The blood barely even spurted out into the guy’s shirt.

“She’s here. On library duty.”

“No way.”

“She deserves it.”

“Bitch.”

You felt the urge to drive the book spines into these two people’s eye sockets.

Before you could, a crowd dispersed out of the campus gates. It was Brandon, being walked into a car with bandages around his head. The football linebacker had his whole entourage of goons surround him while the onlookers pushed each other for a glimpse of his ruined face. He did a good job hiding it with the bandages. Though knowing the guy, you knew he’d never want the school to see how he’d just gotten beaten into a bruised piece of fruit.

Everyone in that library stopped what they were doing and stared at the football player’s overly dramatic exit out of school out the window, before they turned their heads at Jason Todd.

Jason looked at his feet, his bruised cheeks now red, his eyes dark even with the lights directly above him, and his knuckles trembling over the cart’s grip.

“Jason Todd’s here on detention, too.”

“Heard he almost killed Brandon.”

“Broke his nose. And his whole face. Guy could barely breathe. Heard he has to get it reconstructed.”

“Jesus, what an asshole.”

“At least Y/N’s never sent anyone to the hospital. He’s even worse than her.”

Jason heard everything. He stopped with his books, teeth grinding into his lips so much it looked painful. There was that darkness, the flares from his eyes that you saw back in the office. His wrists trembled like they wanted to hit something again. And the cart looked fragile being wrapped around with his bruised fingers and looking like they’d break at a single pull.

You could’ve sworn you saw the handlebars of the cart bend the wrong way when he lost his grip. The large veins in his arms throbbed. And his eyes darted off to different parts of the floor when the whispers came from every corner of the library.

When he pushed the cart enough to almost tumble it all over the floor, you admit you might have flinched. But you refused to look away even when you caught his eyes burning red.

Another half hour later, you heard disgustingly wet noises from horny teenagers’ lips. The couple with a lot to say about you and Jason were now eating at each other’s faces like licking cannibals. You remembered what that corner was called. It was the Boner Aisle.

“HEY!”

Your feet almost quaked the floors when you stomped. The couple choked the second they saw you turn the corner, trembling with their mouths wet and their arms tangled around each other’s limbs.

“OUT!”

They scrambled out the door, knowing better than to look you in the eye.

Ms. Peterson went up to you, proudly nodding at the now-empty Boner Aisle.

“Fifty years in this library, and not one assistant has managed to scare these twists off from groping each other’s privates. Only person who did was, well, me.”

You shrugged.

“Good job. You might actually be of use.”

You shrugged as the old lady waddled her way back to her desk.

Then, you caught Jason’s eye. That was the first time you’ve seen him smile at you, before he occupied himself with another book from the cart.

---

The day started to dim. At almost five pm, you barely made it halfway through your cart, while Jason had just a few books unshelved. With the last few books, your aching wrist shoved them on top of the other books’ spines. Never mind if the old woman would have an aneurysm if she caught you.

The highest shelf was far beyond your reach, even on your toes. It was five minutes to five o’clock, and you just wanted to put this last book before you’d get the hell out of this place.

“Need help?”

Your jaw started to hurt from the amount of clenching you’ve done that day.

But you were exhausted, handing the book to him even if whatever was left of your pride seethed out into nothingness. His taller frame was able to place the book onto the shelf without much effort, and you kept your arms folded while he turned his attention to you with a large arm against the shelf.

At least he was nice to look at.

“Do you have this whole library memorized, or are you just that much of a nerd?”

“The second one,” he snorted. “It’s really not that hard if you know these books.”

“You know all these books?”

Jason shrugged. “Most of them.”

“You’ve read them or do you just know of them?”

“Read them. I have a library of my own back home.”

“Wait,” you pointed the spine of a sharp book near his chest, “no fucking way. You’re the new Wayne kid.”

Like finding shit at the bottom of his soles, he looked like he wanted to barf.

“So you’re rich and you’re in detention?” you laughed. “Shouldn’t you be in a boarding school?”

“I was. Didn’t end well. That’s why I’m here. With you.” Those words sneered out of his lips like it was the filthiest thing to come out of it.

You flipped through the pages and slipped it between two books you didn’t check.

“Stop it,” he mumbled, taking the book and placing it into the correct shelf. “It has to be alphabetical. Do you not know the alphabet?”

“Maybe I just like seeing you squirm.”

“If we’re gonna be stuck here for the next ten weeks, we might as well get along.”

“Wasn’t it you who hated the idea of being stuck here with me?” you scoffed. “And don’t take it personally. I’m horrible to everyone.”

“They don’t have the blessing of spending two hours with you every day,” he sneered. “But maybe this won’t be so bad if you actually do your job right.”

 “I’d rather slam my tongue in a car door.”

“Unfortunately for me, I brought a bike.”

Your thumbs were a trigger away from pressing into his eyes.

“I’ll try my best to tolerate you. You can do the same.” He stuck his newly bruised hand out for you to shake.

Gossip, you can handle. Kids screaming and running at the sound of your boots down the hall, it exhilarated you. But Jason Todd, not only driving imaginary screwdrivers into your ears with every word out of his mouth, but taunting you as if your retorts were no threat to him—every organ in your body wanted to implode.

Just how troubled was this guy? You’ve heard of fist fights, sure. But they didn’t happen too often. You’ve seen him with bruises on his face, with a new one popping up each time you saw him in school. Every guy on the football team did. But Jason wasn’t on the team. Where did those bruises come from?

With how everyone whispered Jason’s name, it sounded like you should be the one afraid of him.

You laughed.

You liked a challenge.

Putting on the biggest fake smile, you grabbed Jason’s hand, shook it, and gripped it with enough force to break his bruised knuckles.

“Mother fucker.”

“Hmm.” Another fake smile. “Happy tolerating.”

Five pm. You stormed out of the library before he could say anything more.

---

NOTE: Y/N IS HEAVILY INSPIRED BY JADE WEST FROM VICTORIOUS. THE ORIGINAL SERIES IS COMPLETE AND POSTED HERE ON TUMBLR AND AO3.

RESETING MY TAGLIST! LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT IN TAGLIST:

@littleredwing89 @pricetagofficial @l-inkage @offendedfishnoises @bungunz @boosyboo9206 @estrela-rogers @americasmarauders @lucy-roo @satan-s-ass @shadowsndaisies

[batarella]

I Don't Hate You - Remastered - Chapter 1 (Jason Todd x Reader Series)

You're the meanest girl in school. Everyone is terrified of you. But when you're sentenced to ten weeks of detention at the school's library with another brooding troublemaker, Jason Todd, you find out there is, in fact, at least one guy on earth who isn't afraid of you.

And you hate that.

IDHY REMASTERED EDITION: GENERAL REVISIONS, NEW DIALOGUE, BONUS CONTENT, AND EXTENDED SCENES.

A/N: After five long fucking years, our favorite bitch Y/N is back. I love this story to death, and I've grown so much as a writer since then. I wrote the original in a span of a month, posting a new chapter every day, so I never got the chance to fully proofread or even edit much of it after a single read-through. I wrote this surrounded by the best people on this app, and it was an era of my life I look fondly on until now. I hope you accept me again. And thank you to everyone who stuck around. WORDS: 4024 WARNINGS: MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE, TROUBLED KIDS BEING REPRIMANDED BY THE SCHOOL

MASTERLIST ----

You never bothered to count your visits to the disciplinary office.

Over time, you felt the chair mould itself more into the shape of your ass; the chair that was too cold for you to rest your arms on. The room was the same, stuffy and humid, making you want to take deeper breaths. And the lingering smell of either strawberry or lemon perfume hurt your sinuses.

It was the waiting that made you want to leap out the window.

The Vice Principal’s assistant refused to look up at you from her paperwork. When she finally did catch your eye, she scrambled for something else to look at.

Vice Principal Watson rang you in. The assistant stood up from her desk and walked over to the door right beside you. She didn’t look at you with shame, or pity, or annoyance. She looked at you like you hid a knife under your sleeve. “Ms. Y/LN.”

Slinging your bag over your shoulder, you stomped into the office and made sure everyone in the room could hear your boots.

Watson watched you from the edge of her glasses, and you knew this wouldn’t be any different from your last visits. The room was even stuffier inside. She had a shit ton of paperwork on her desk, one of them with your name printed in bold at the top and several red marks below it. That pile of paperwork grew thicker each time. Now it was an inch thick of incident reports held together by dangling paperclips. Without waiting for her to say a word, you took a seat.

You eyed the woman up and down. Her exhaustion was imminent; exhaustion from you. The bags under her eyes grew a millimeter each time that woman had to say your name. This was the second time this week.

So you slumped onto the chair.

“Y/N.” Her voice was soft. “This is a new low. Even for you.”

“He deserved it.”

“What was it that Mr. Maxwell did to you then? Enlighten me.”

Your eyes trailed around the room, tongue pressing hard behind your teeth until it hurt. “He spilled coffee all over my project.”

“I see,” she started writing down a fresh new incident report to add to the pile. “When did this happen?”

“This morning.”

“And what was it that you did to retaliate?”

VP Watson’s frustrations were boiling out of her skull as she stared at you. You giggled your response.

“I threw a pair of scissors and it landed on his arm.”

She muffled a slight ‘mhm’, taking down notes without looking up. “Were you aiming at his arm?”

You slumped back against the chair. “Probably not.”

Watson put the pen down and rubbed her face with her hands, pulling at her skin until it looked like it stretched out her wrinkles. You looked around at her desk—at the lack of a framed picture Watson usually had on top.

“I see you went through with the divorce.”

“Enough. You’re not funny.”

You laughed, hands folded on your lap.

“You have to give me more details. I can’t rule this out as an accident again.”

“It wasn’t.”

“But it clearly was an accident when he spilled his drink, Ms. Y/LN.”

“I don’t care,” you said, enunciating every word. “Maxwell has to do my project all over again. For me.”

“That’s not how it works, Y/N. Not after you’ve impaled him.”

You always get through days like this. Some days might have had you tear out a piece of your hair each time, but you got through them.

“Just this past month, you sent five kids to the school counsellor crying about the horrible things you’ve said to them.”

“Overreactions.”

“If you can practice just a tiny bit of empathy—”

“I have empathy.” Whatever that meant.

“I’m worried about you, Y/N.” Her arm reached out to the edge of the desk. “You know our counsellors are always welcome to help you.”

“I’m not interested in therapy.”

“You need someone.”

Your exasperated scoff would’ve been heard from the other room. “I know exactly what I’m doing, Ms. Watson.”

She shook her head. “I no longer know how to help you, Y/N.”

“I don’t need help.”

The last time you were here, VP Watson skipped the lecture, handed you the punishment, and you made your way out of the office after just five minutes. Why couldn’t she do that now? Why did she have to drag it out, knowing it could never end differently?

“If you were at the other end of your bullying, how would you feel?”

This was getting irritating. You shifted your aching ass in the seat and pulled at your muscles to stretch. “I don’t know why they gave you this job, Ms. Watson.”

She chose to ignore the insult. You’ve said worse things. Far worse things.

“You cause permanent damage. It would help if you found someone to soften you up.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Language, or you get another demerit,” she pulled out more of her forms. You scoffed and sat back.

“Do you have friends in this school? Someone who would tell you if you step out of line?”

“I have friends.”

“And yet, they’re all afraid of you. Everyone is afraid of you.”

“So?”

“So,” she pinched the middle of her eyes and closed them. “I think you need someone to care about. A boyfr-“

“A boyfriend?” you almost screamed. “What kind of Vice Principal are you?!”

“I am running out of options. And things to say. You’re not exactly driving me sane here.”

“I’ve never had one, Watson. And I don’t plan on having one. Boys are stupid and annoying and dirty.”

“And every guy you meet is terrified of you, Y/N.”

“That’s how I like it.”

VP Watson took her glasses off, wiped them with her shirt, and grabbed her coffee mug from the side of her table. She looked like she was about to spill the hot beverage on her lap to get herself out of this session.

“That shouldn’t be the case.”

“I want to go now.”

“I am here to help my students. No matter how personal it can get. It’s part of my job. And my job is to make sure you’re okay and not terrorizing half my other students.”

You shook your head and stared out the window.

“Someone can really help you, and they’ll be someone you’ll want to change for.”

“I’m not interested-”

“Someone who wouldn’t be afraid of you, not even if you tried-“

The door slammed open, crashing hard against the wall and rattling everything on it. A small man with glasses and a tie hauled a young boy by the arm, who flinched and cursed vilely under his breath. His face was newly bruised, and his knuckles looked sore. He glared at the man, VP Watson, and once he met your eyes, you.

“Ms. Watson-“

“Jerry, I’m in the middle of something.”

Jerry. Your science teacher. He was severely out of breath, drowning in his own sweat. He leaned his hand against a drawer and would not let go of the boy when he struggled.

“I’m sorry. But I couldn’t take it. A fight broke out right outside the cafeteria. I barely made it out of there alive.”

Shit. You’re always missing out on the good stuff.

“Calm down,” Ms. Watson stood up to hold Jerry by the shoulder. “Who started the fight?”

“Jason Todd,” the teacher pulled on the boy’s arm. “This young man right here.”

It was like witnessing a public execution. No wonder people of the old times found them so amusing.

The Vice Principal looked like she had a surge of yet another headache, and your grin had grown far from subtle. Jason’s eyes stuck to the ground. He was fit, looked like he could be on the football team and win a fist fight. And you’ve seen this kid quiet around in the hallways. His dark hair was almost always covering his eyes, and he was constantly studying or reading in the library.

“Mr. Todd. Is that true?”

Todd didn’t look at any of them in the eye, gritting his teeth as he mumbled. “Yes.”

“Jesus,” Ms. Watson silently breathed. “Ms. Y/LN. I’m gonna need you to wait outside.”

“Can’t I just go-“

“No. I have a whole new set of punishments for you. Mr. Todd. Take a seat.”

You groaned loud enough for the whole office to hear you, slamming your hands on the armrests and dragging the chair back. The Vice Principal pressed onto the intercom. “Jen. Make sure Ms. Y/LN doesn’t leave.”

Slamming the door behind you, you crashed onto the cold seat outside the office again, mumbling obscene insults that would’ve gotten you suspended if anyone had heard. Jen, the assistant, finally looked you in the eye, but the moment you glared back with knives in your eye sockets, she looked away.

Someone else was beside you—an asshole from the football team. Brandon looked beaten up, and his brown hair was a mess. Probably who the Todd kid picked a fight with. He looked just as large as Jason, but had a lot more bruises than just on his cheek. Both his eyes were bulging, purple, and swollen, and he held a bag of ice against his right temple. His lip was spurting out blood, and his nose was bent in a horrifically wrong direction. He noticed you staring at him. “What are you looking at, sweet cheeks?”

Your nostrils flared as if flames seethed out of your breath, and your eyebrows raised almost to your forehead.

That glare was enough to make him gulp, even with his throat all sore, and look immediately away from you. “S-Sorry, Y/N. Pretend I’m not here.”

They led the boy to the school nurse, then you shut your eyes hard and leaned against the wall to nap.

Not long after, the door opened, and the Vice Principal looked at you with her arms exhaustedly flailing for you to come in. “Y/N…”

Walking back inside, this time not taking the seat no matter how long she was going to offer it to you, you stood with your back leaning against the door. Todd watched you. You glared back.

You thought the challenge of finding another troublemaker more troublesome than you was impossible, but it seemed to have been beaten, because the Vice Principal looked equally, if not more, distressed than when she only had to deal with you.

Jason Todd looked back at the VP. He didn’t flinch when you caught his eye, not like Brandon did. He looked bored, then Ms. Watson gathered her forms and folded them into a pile.

“Both your behaviors are simply unacceptable. No amount of regular detention will cover it. Especially not when it’s neither of your first times here in my office. Jason, I expected a lot more from a top student.”

Jason didn’t look up from his feet.

Ms. Watson looked like she was preparing herself. “I have a special task that will surely bring both of you to your needed discipline. Both of you will serve as assistants at our school library from three pm to five pm everyday for the next ten weeks.”

Absolutely not.

This never happened.

Detention never lasted more than a week. And it was always sitting at a desk chair for an hour, counting the hands of the clock in silence. That, you could take. You’d gladly stare at nothing for an hour a day for the rest of high school if need be.

Jason looked no more delighted, slowly turning his head at you as if the punchline of this joke of a punishment was you and not the library.

“With her?!” he cried.

You didn’t have the time to be offended.

“NO!”

“Neither of you is changing my mind. You start today.” She pressed on her intercom. “Jen. Lead these two to the library.”

You heard mumbles from the other line, though you could barely hear anything at all when sirens were blasting into your eardrums.

“You’re right. Call in the security guard for Y/N.”

If you could see your intestines, you’d witness them uncurling and flailing around in your stomach in an attempt to grab onto anything and stop you from being dragged into the library. Your screaming, since none came from your mouth, steamed out of your ears. You elbowed the security guard when he grabbed you by the arm.

“Don’t touch me,” you sneered. “I can walk there myself.”

---

Three pm. You should be at home, napping, not standing in the fucking school library with some kid with a bruised face.

The librarian wasted no time with niceties and handed you both a monstrous pile of books in two unorganized carts. You pressed a finger down the bridge of your nose to stop the explosion waiting to seep out of your vocal cords.

The librarian, Ms. Peterson, looked like every stereotype of the profession; it was comical. Her cat-eye glasses were sharp, and her back arched so much she was standing right up to your chest. Her white hair fell onto the books, and you had to brush off a strand that fell on your black sleeve.

“Place these back on the shelves. By genre. By author. Alphabetical.”

“Who even reads books anymore?”

Your prison cellmate looked at you like you had insulted his mother.

“Smart people do.”

This guy, so bold as to insult you to your face, had obviously never seen you shut a locker on a guy’s knuckles and secured it with a padlock. Your head turned slowly.

“What’s that supposed to mean, dickhead?”

“Start placing those books on the shelves, Y/N.” He spat out your name like it was a curse.

So he obviously knew who you were. He just didn’t care. Todd took his cart and reeled it over to the shelves. You forcibly pulled on your own cart, the wheel squeaking and almost falling out of the socket, and parked it right beside Jason. He spared you no glance, even at your attempts to intimidate him with your eye-knives.

“What are you in for, anyway?” he asked.

You chucked a book way too harshly into the shelf without even checking the labels. “None of your goddamn business.”

“Tell me.”

You took out another book. Without even looking at the cover, you placed it on the first available space you could see. “You know that Maxwell kid?”

“The guy who spills his coffee on the table all the time?”

“He spilled it on my project. I worked on it all day.”

He watched you arrange a book. “What did you do to him?”

“I threw a pair of scissors. It landed on his arm.”

“Jesus.”

One after another, onto the same shelf. Jason glanced at your half hour’s work, sighed a huge weight out of his lungs, then took out the books you’d just stuffed into the shelves.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“Be quiet. This is a library.”

Your brain ought to have been microwaved by your head from how much it was flaming at the sound of him. “Leave me alone, Todd.”

“You’re arranging them all wrong. These are classic fiction, which belong all the way over there,” he pointed to the shelf beside you. “This shelf is for poetry. See?”

You grabbed the cart, really feeling the steam ring out of your ears if it hadn’t run out already. Eye knives.

Yet Jason’s dark eyes looked no less homicidal than yours. No fear. No intimidation. “Stop wasting my time, Wednesday Adams.”

“You little sh-“

“SHH!” Ms. Peterson’s shrill voice echoed like the shriek of a large bat. Everyone looked up from their books, then turned to you.

You stepped back and grabbed your cart, cursing as Jason snickered beneath his breath.

If it were anyone else interacting with you, they’d be crying out the door.

You stayed at the classic fiction section, placing the books more gently onto the spaces. Your boots stood on their tiptoes when you had to reach the higher shelf. That was all you did for another half hour.

“Did you hear?”

Whispering voices were on the other side of the shelf you arranged. A girl and a guy, leaning against the corner at the farthest end. You heard never to go into that aisle if you didn’t want to see two kids humping each other in the middle of a school day

“Y/FN stabbed Maxwell with scissors in his arm. They said it bled all over the cafeteria floor.”

You scoffed. You threw the scissors, not stabbed them into flesh. And he didn’t bleed all over the floor. The blood barely even spurted out into the guy’s shirt.

“She’s here. On library duty.”

“No way.”

“She deserves it.”

“Bitch.”

You felt the urge to drive the book spines into these two people’s eye sockets.

Before you could, a crowd dispersed out of the campus gates. It was Brandon, being walked into a car with bandages around his head. The football linebacker had his whole entourage of goons surround him while the onlookers pushed each other for a glimpse of his ruined face. He did a good job hiding it with the bandages. Though knowing the guy, you knew he’d never want the school to see how he’d just gotten beaten into a bruised piece of fruit.

Everyone in that library stopped what they were doing and stared at the football player’s overly dramatic exit out of school out the window, before they turned their heads at Jason Todd.

Jason looked at his feet, his bruised cheeks now red, his eyes dark even with the lights directly above him, and his knuckles trembling over the cart’s grip.

“Jason Todd’s here on detention, too.”

“Heard he almost killed Brandon.”

“Broke his nose. And his whole face. Guy could barely breathe. Heard he has to get it reconstructed.”

“Jesus, what an asshole.”

“At least Y/N’s never sent anyone to the hospital. He’s even worse than her.”

Jason heard everything. He stopped with his books, teeth grinding into his lips so much it looked painful. There was that darkness, the flares from his eyes that you saw back in the office. His wrists trembled like they wanted to hit something again. And the cart looked fragile being wrapped around with his bruised fingers and looking like they’d break at a single pull.

You could’ve sworn you saw the handlebars of the cart bend the wrong way when he lost his grip. The large veins in his arms throbbed. And his eyes darted off to different parts of the floor when the whispers came from every corner of the library.

When he pushed the cart enough to almost tumble it all over the floor, you admit you might have flinched. But you refused to look away even when you caught his eyes burning red.

Another half hour later, you heard disgustingly wet noises from horny teenagers’ lips. The couple with a lot to say about you and Jason were now eating at each other’s faces like licking cannibals. You remembered what that corner was called. It was the Boner Aisle.

“HEY!”

Your feet almost quaked the floors when you stomped. The couple choked the second they saw you turn the corner, trembling with their mouths wet and their arms tangled around each other’s limbs.

“OUT!”

They scrambled out the door, knowing better than to look you in the eye.

Ms. Peterson went up to you, proudly nodding at the now-empty Boner Aisle.

“Fifty years in this library, and not one assistant has managed to scare these twists off from groping each other’s privates. Only person who did was, well, me.”

You shrugged.

“Good job. You might actually be of use.”

You shrugged as the old lady waddled her way back to her desk.

Then, you caught Jason’s eye. That was the first time you’ve seen him smile at you, before he occupied himself with another book from the cart.

---

The day started to dim. At almost five pm, you barely made it halfway through your cart, while Jason had just a few books unshelved. With the last few books, your aching wrist shoved them on top of the other books’ spines. Never mind if the old woman would have an aneurysm if she caught you.

The highest shelf was far beyond your reach, even on your toes. It was five minutes to five o’clock, and you just wanted to put this last book before you’d get the hell out of this place.

“Need help?”

Your jaw started to hurt from the amount of clenching you’ve done that day.

But you were exhausted, handing the book to him even if whatever was left of your pride seethed out into nothingness. His taller frame was able to place the book onto the shelf without much effort, and you kept your arms folded while he turned his attention to you with a large arm against the shelf.

At least he was nice to look at.

“Do you have this whole library memorized, or are you just that much of a nerd?”

“The second one,” he snorted. “It’s really not that hard if you know these books.”

“You know all these books?”

Jason shrugged. “Most of them.”

“You’ve read them or do you just know of them?”

“Read them. I have a library of my own back home.”

“Wait,” you pointed the spine of a sharp book near his chest, “no fucking way. You’re the new Wayne kid.”

Like finding shit at the bottom of his soles, he looked like he wanted to barf.

“So you’re rich and you’re in detention?” you laughed. “Shouldn’t you be in a boarding school?”

“I was. Didn’t end well. That’s why I’m here. With you.” Those words sneered out of his lips like it was the filthiest thing to come out of it.

You flipped through the pages and slipped it between two books you didn’t check.

“Stop it,” he mumbled, taking the book and placing it into the correct shelf. “It has to be alphabetical. Do you not know the alphabet?”

“Maybe I just like seeing you squirm.”

“If we’re gonna be stuck here for the next ten weeks, we might as well get along.”

“Wasn’t it you who hated the idea of being stuck here with me?” you scoffed. “And don’t take it personally. I’m horrible to everyone.”

“They don’t have the blessing of spending two hours with you every day,” he sneered. “But maybe this won’t be so bad if you actually do your job right.”

 “I’d rather slam my tongue in a car door.”

“Unfortunately for me, I brought a bike.”

Your thumbs were a trigger away from pressing into his eyes.

“I’ll try my best to tolerate you. You can do the same.” He stuck his newly bruised hand out for you to shake.

Gossip, you can handle. Kids screaming and running at the sound of your boots down the hall, it exhilarated you. But Jason Todd, not only driving imaginary screwdrivers into your ears with every word out of his mouth, but taunting you as if your retorts were no threat to him—every organ in your body wanted to implode.

Just how troubled was this guy? You’ve heard of fist fights, sure. But they didn’t happen too often. You’ve seen him with bruises on his face, with a new one popping up each time you saw him in school. Every guy on the football team did. But Jason wasn’t on the team. Where did those bruises come from?

With how everyone whispered Jason’s name, it sounded like you should be the one afraid of him.

You laughed.

You liked a challenge.

Putting on the biggest fake smile, you grabbed Jason’s hand, shook it, and gripped it with enough force to break his bruised knuckles.

“Mother fucker.”

“Hmm.” Another fake smile. “Happy tolerating.”

Five pm. You stormed out of the library before he could say anything more.

---

NOTE: Y/N IS HEAVILY INSPIRED BY JADE WEST FROM VICTORIOUS. THE ORIGINAL SERIES IS COMPLETE AND POSTED HERE ON TUMBLR AND AO3.

RESETING MY TAGLIST! LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT IN TAGLIST:

@littleredwing89 @pricetagofficial @l-inkage @offendedfishnoises @bungunz @boosyboo9206 @estrela-rogers @americasmarauders @lucy-roo @satan-s-ass @shadowsndaisies