Summary: You get hit with a love spell. Naturally, the first person you seek out is Jason Todd.
Pairing: Jason Todd x gn!reader
Word count: 4.5k
Warnings/tags: love spell (so potentially mild dubious consent but all the feelings are reciprocated), lovesick you, lovesick jason, repressed jason, LOTS of cuddling/lovie stuff, needles, magic, pining, happy ending.
the divider
Jason's having a good night.
He made himself an indulgent lasagna, and now he's got leftovers for tomorrow. He's off from patrol tonight, which, he must admit, was nice of Cass to offer.
Yeah, Jason actually feels pretty normal. Feels like any young person would. Hell, he might put on a movie he won't pay attention to, or finally adopt a cat, just to keep the normal streak going. That's what young folks do, right?
(He can think of some other things young people do, things that Jason won't allow himself to dream of.)
Knock knock.
Jason sighs. Well. The streak was good while it lasted.
He gets up, shuffling over in his sweats. He undoes the four locks and opens the door to reveal... you.
"Uh, hey," he says, cracking the door wider. "Everything okay?"
It's late. You shouldn't be out now, even if the sun hasn't gone down yet.
Jason frowns when you sway in the doorway and don't respond.
Then you flash him the sweetest smile he's ever been on the receiving end of. Wow. Sure, Jason's seen you flash your pretty teeth before. But not like this. And not at him.
"Hi, Jaylove. Hi."
"Uh." He watches you walk right past him, into his apartment. He shuts the door. "Hi... What's goin' on? You alright?"
You turn to face him. "Why wouldn't I be? After all, you're here."
"What?"
You walk to him and take his hands in yours. Jason's eyebrows rise.
"Hey...?" Jason says, looking at your joined hands. You lace your fingers together.
"My prince," you say happily. "Your eyes are beautiful. Like emeralds. And you have a beautiful mouth. Your whole face is beautiful. I'd like to paint you."
"Are you on drugs?" Jason releases your hands to hold your face. He gently pushes your eyelids up to inspect your pupils. You just smile.
"I feel high when you touch me," you say. "Just being near you is drug enough."
Yeah, Jason's now feeling a healthy amount of paranoia. It's not that you don't stop by or that you're not nice. No, you're the sweetest creature Jason's ever had the pleasure of meeting.
But wanting to touch him? Thinking he's beautiful? Calling him your prince? Either you're drugged or he's died again and found paradise.
Then again, he probably wouldn't still be in Gotham if this were paradise. You'd definitely be here, though.
"Right. Your eyes are fine." Jason lets go of your face. "You sure you didn't take anything? Drink anything? Run into anyone?"
"I drank tea," you say, gazing up at him. "And I petted a fat orange cat. Don't you want a cat?"
"I surely do. You drank tea?"
"Mmhm. It was almost as amazing as you."
Jason nods and takes your hand. "Okay. We're going to the Cave."
"How come?" you ask, but you don't protest as he leads you out and into the elevator.
"Because I wanna make sure you're okay," he says, pushing the button labeled one. You're definitely not okay, but he doesn't want to worry you.
"Oh." You lean against Jason's arm. He stiffens and looks down at you. You just burrow into his side. "'Cause you love me?"
Breath catches in his throat. You can't mean that. Do you even know what you're saying? No, impossible.
You look up when he's silent for too long. "Jay-Jay? Didja hear me?"
"Yeah," he says slowly. "Yeah, I did."
You look at him, big eyes sweet. "Don't you love me too? I love you."
Jason swallows hard. "I, um, don't think you're in your right mind."
Your lip quivers. Oh, God. No, please don't cry, please don't—
"You don't love me?" you ask, tears welling.
"I do love you," Jason says quickly, panicking at your distress. "I do. Shit. Please don't cry, honey. I do love you."
You frown, cheeks wet. "You're just saying that! You hate me!"
Jason shakes his head. "No, no! Oh, never, I could never hate ya, honest! I was just... um, this is the first time we've said it to each other, y'know? I do love you. Have for a long time now."
He strokes your cheek with his thumb, soaking up your tears. You sniffle but accept this, nodding.
"Oh. I'm sure I've told you that I love you before. I love you so much, Jason. I'll never love anyone the way I love you."
God, this is fucking torture. As the elevator reaches the ground floor, Jason takes a deep breath, lets you link your fingers with his, and leads you out to the street. The universe is intent in never granting him a normal night. Noted.
There's no way you're in your right mind. Jason's figured this from the start. But that doesn't make the way you look at him, like he's anybody worth looking at, any less painful.
He pulls out his phone, shoots a quick text to Dick. ETA 10 min.
Dick responds two seconds later. What's up?
Possible Code 12.
Jason pockets his phone, running through potential reasons for what did this to you. Ivy's not wreaking havoc tonight, as far as he knows.
Meanwhile, you're in another world, humming and holding his hand. Jason's thought about this many times, holding your hand and taking you for rides, you adoring him, hugging him, kissing him. He's nothing if not a masochist.
"Okay, sweetheart," Jason says, and you immediately turn to him, like a flower showing its face to the sun. Jason is no one's sun, though. He's more like the worm under your boot.
"Hm?" you ask, stroking his arm. Jason does his best to be normal about it.
"We're gonna, um, go to the Cave. You okay on my bike?"
You glance at his bike, and there's a tinge of apprehension on your face. Jason reaches for your shoulder, stops, then forces himself to touch you. You're not going to recoil from him, not in this state. And he's not doing it for himself; he's only touching you so that you'll let him take you to the Manor and figure out what's what.
He's not a bastard for holding your shoulder, right? He's doing it just so that you'll be safe.
(It doesn't matter. Jason knows he's a bastard for being in your life at all.)
You lean into him when he touches your shoulder.
"Never been on your bike, Jay," you say.
"I know. But I swear to you that you're safe. You know I'd never let anything happen to you, right? Never."
You nod. "Yeah. You always look out for me. 'S part of why I love you so much."
Good God. Jason's going to be a ball of self-hatred for the next millenia over this.
He puts his spare helmet on you, helping you fit the chin guard underneath.
"Okay?" he asks.
You give him a thumbs-up. Jason smiles and puts his own helmet on.
"You gotta hold on real tight, okay? As tight as you can. Don't worry 'bout hurting me."
"Mmkay!"
He helps you mount the bike first, then follows. As soon as he's on, you wrap your arms around his middle and smush your helmet into his back.
How long has he dreamed about this? Taking you on late-night rides, feeling you pressed against him, squealing as he floats through traffic (he'd never speed the way he does when he's alone; Jason doesn't give a shit about his own body, but your safety matters).
"The bike is loud, so I'm not gonna hear you if you say something, but if you want me to stop, tap my shoulder three times, okay?"
"Okay, Jaylove." You squeeze him in what's clearly a hug. "Ready."
Jason's not sure he is. It's been a long time since anyone's touched him, much less someone he's head over heels for. You're so trusting, it makes him ache. Jason's just glad he's the first jerk you laid your eyes upon instead of the magic you're under pushing you into the arms of someone dangerous.
He starts up his bike. Jason's had guests on his bike before, mostly his brothers and, once, the old lady who runs the tea shop down the block.
He's never had a lovely thing like you snuggled up to him, clinging to him. Jason feels rabid. He feels like he needs to be shot and put out of his misery.
He follows all of the road rules so you won't be scared. You don't tap his shoulder or shake, so Jason figures you're fine. He's good. He's being good for you.
Jason slows as he goes down the ramp to the Cave entrance. He stops at the mouth of the Cave and dismounts first, pulling off his helmet.
"You alright in there?" he asks, offering his hand.
You wrap your arms around his neck and Jason wobbles as he recalibrates and snakes an arm around your shoulders instead and helps you off that way. He removes your helmet. You blink at the new light, then look at him, moony-eyed once again.
"I was kinda scared," you admit. "But I trust you, Jaybee. Always."
"Got you here in one piece, didn't I?" he says, winking at you.
"Uh-huh!"
Jason sees what you're going to do before you try. He sees the way you look at his lips, how you rear back, ready to leap and kiss him.
He redirects you immediately, preferring that to making you cry again. He hates it when you cry. Your soft mouth lands on his jaw instead.
Jason smiles, strained. You're annoyed at the fact that you missed, and Jason can see that you're about to try again when Dick and Tim come into view.
He's never been more thrilled to see his brothers.
"Fellow bretheren," Jason says. He knows his voice is thin. "Funny seein' you here."
You're briefly distracted and wave to be polite. But then you force Jason's left ear to your level and catch the lobe between your teeth.
Holy fuck. Jason nearly buckles at the sensation. He's never understood the ears as an erogenous zone before—now he gets it. He's ashamed of how heat pools in his gut as you nip his ear.
Jason balances you with an arm around your waist, gingerly trying to both hide his reaction and separate you. He accomplishes neither. Tim's eyebrows are at his hairline; Dick's mouth is open, no doubt ready to make a smart-ass comment.
"Well, it's nice to see you two so... affectionate," Dick says, holding back a grin.
Jason rolls his eyes. "I need you to run tests. They showed up to my door like this, all over me."
"Yeah, that is weird," Tim says.
"Thank you very much for that, Timbit," Jason grumbles. You kiss under his ear and weave your fingers through his hair. Jason manages to get your hands off, but your mouth is still firmly planted on his neck. He clears his throat. Normal!
"I dunno, Jason," Dick says. "It's not that weird. People fall in love every day."
And, okay. Jason can do teasing. He can even do borderline psychotic remarks. That's part of having siblings. He's made a few in his day. They've all stabbed or shot each other.
But now Dick is just being cruel.
Jason scowls. "Take their blood so we can fucking get this over with. They're clearly under a love spell."
His scathing tone surprises Dick, but it really startles you. You've moved away from his ear (Jason is both relieved and disappointed) and return to cradling his arm. You're alarmed by his reply.
"Jaylove?" you ask. "What happened? Are you mad?"
Jaylove? Jason sees Tim mouth. He forces himself to focus on you, be gentle for you.
"Hm, no, not mad at ya, sweetheart. Sorry 'bout that. But we need to run some medical tests on ya, 'kay? Can we do that?"
"Sure," you chirp, linking your arm with his.
Dick and Tim slip into Work Mode. Jason appreciates that. His nerves are frayed. He senses a self-destructive episode coming on after you're cured. Maybe he'll throw himself into a bar fight tonight.
"Symptoms?" Tim asks, going to the computer.
"Being in love with me," Jason says dryly.
"Besides that. Any physical symptoms like dizziness or nausea? Recklessness?"
"No, didn't notice any sickness. Not reckless; they did everything I said." Jason swallows, says the next part quietly, fearfully. "Probably jump into the Hudson if I asked."
Tim nods sharply. Dick prepares to draw your blood. Again, you're apprehensive. But Jason soothes you, pets you, and you're leaning into him like a cat in its favorite patch of sun as Dick takes your blood.
"I wanna get married," you say as red fills the second vial.
Dick shoots him a sympathetic look. Jason looks away.
"Soon, honey," Jason says, ignoring how his stomach's a pit.
He didn't think about love or relationships when he came back. Didn't care, not when he had revenge to plot.
But after all that was over, after he met you, after he found a reason to keep living, Jason started thinking about it.
And what he realized is that he's never getting married.
By choice? Yes, sure. Jason loves pretending he has a choice in anything. Sure, he chooses to abstain from marriage, like normal people out there do. But really, he avoids attachment because it wouldn't be fair to anyone. He knows he's not made for that. His death made him unsalvageable. It's a miracle he's here at all. How dare he ask for more?
And inside, he chokes on a vine of hatred for everyone else who can find someone. Who's capable of loving and being loved. It even, to Jason's shame, has reared its head at you, whispered in his ear about how you're not damaged, so of course you'll find someone one day. Of course you'll leave him eventually. It would be stupid of him to hope otherwise.
"When?" you ask as Dick starts on the third vial. You don't even notice. Dick could probably drain you dry as long as Jason's in front of you. "When can we get married?"
"How 'bout next month?" Jason says without thinking. He would. He'd marry you tomorrow.
You think about this for a moment, then nod. "Yes, that would be good. I've always wanted a fall wedding."
"Yeah? I always liked the idea of marrying in the spring. All the flowers."
"No," you say. "Pollen's out. You'd be sneezing your head off."
Jason laughs, then wants to cry, because you know that he's allergic to pollen.
"Yeah, y'right," he says, voice thick. "Fall wedding's better."
"Alright, all done!" Dick says, forcefully cheerful. He removes the needle and puts a Bandaid on the inside of your elbow. You rest your head on Jason's arm. Jason tries not to boil himself in a fire of misery. You probably won't even remember this.
Dick watches you both, then tugs your hand. "Hey, you mind helping me fill out some info? For the tests."
Your mouth shrivels. You look at Jason, and he can't believe he's your North Star, magic or not.
"I don't wanna leave Jason," you say.
"He'll be right here," Dick says quickly. "Won't leave your sight for a second. But I need your help."
"Just for a minute?" you ask.
Dick nods. "One minute."
You sigh and turn to Jason. "I'll be right back."
Jason nods, tries to smile. "Sure. I'll be here."
He'll be here. Forever and ever and ever...
Wait a second. Tea. Jason jolts.
"Tim. They said they drank tea. Could be something there."
"On it," Tim says. "Dick, we need a mouth swab."
"Right." He turns to you. "Can I—"
"No," you say, and march back to Jason. "You said a minute."
Jason would laugh at the pout on your face, the way you plop yourself next to him and curl around him like he's a new toy. He would laugh. If he could find the humor.
Dick looks at him. Jason sighs.
"Honey?" You hum. "We just need one more test, yeah? Q-tip on your tongue. Not the most pleasant, but it'll be quick. Promise."
"Okay," you say immediately, hugging his arm.
Jason knows it's a spell, or maybe a lab-made chemical. But he's still awed by how quickly you acquiesce. How you show no worry when Dick approaches because Jason's right there, patting your hand.
Dick swabs your mouth. You cough three times after, most of your body on Jason.
"Interesting how they're not lustful," Dick says.
"What," Jason says.
"Okay, the ear thing was..." Dick shrugs. "But it's not mindless. It's actually the most reasonable love spell I've ever seen. Like, their desires for you don't feel manufactured, they feel—"
"Don't," Jason snaps. "Don't fuckin' say it."
Dick holds up his hands. "It was just an observation. You've seen Ivy's pollen doses. This one seems different."
"Fine. Ivy's taking a break from the orgies. Doesn't mean this is real."
Jason's not stupid enough to hope.
"It can't be Ivy," Tim says, and Jason almost startles. He forgot Tim was there, so wrapped up in you. "No reports of Ivy attacks. And the substance, whatever it was, wasn't inhaled. It was injested."
You wrap your arms around Jason's neck and smush your face against his. You're warm and smell good. Jason feels feral.
He holds you with a hand on your back, mind turning.
"Sweetheart," he says. You hum. "You said you drank tea after work. Where exactly did you go?"
"Dunno," you say, spacey. "Went into a tea shop that's never been there before. And an old lady invited me in. She said I looked so sad. And I was, Jaybee! How did she know?"
"I don't know, honey," Jason says quietly, even though he has a suspicion. He's never letting you walk home alone again.
Tea shop. That's what he gets for trying to be a good Samaritan. How dare she drug you?
"Hm. Well, she gave me a tea sample, said it would make all my problems disappear. Then I petted her cat named Darcy. Like that book you like!"
God, Jason just wants to hug you tight and kiss your face. It's awful of him to think of you as cute in your state, he knows.
"Track their routes," Jason says. "They take two different ones home. One crosses Bank Street, the other goes over the bridge."
"I'd call you a stalker but I really have no right," Tim says, fingers flying over the keyboard.
"No shit," Jason mumbles, letting you play with his fingers.
"Jason," Dick says quietly. He glances at you, then at his brother. "If it's too much, we can sedate them."
"No. We don't know how it'll react to the tea. It's not Ivy's brew."
Dick frowns. He knows Jason's right. Jason knows he's right.
"Okay, I got something. Magic signatures from a building on Tenth Street," Tim says. "And I think I'm onto an antidote."
"I'll check it out," Dick says, going to suit up. He looks at Jason. "Are you-?"
Jason nods. "I'm fine. Go."
So Dick does. Tim is able to make an antidote within the hour. He gives it to Jason who injects it into your neck. He feels guilty even though this is what’ll cure you. You wince at the pinch but you don't so much as whimper, endlessly trusting.
"They'll probably crash soon," Tim says, out of your earshot. "I don't know if you should risk the bike."
Jason sighs. Tim's right, and it makes him all the more agitated that his brothers have been helpful and even kind of nice during the whole thing.
You're going to crash soon. Jason has no choice but to bring you up to the Manor.
"Come on, sweetheart," he says, taking your hand and standing.
"Where're we goin'?" you ask, yawning.
"Goin’ t’bed, honey. Aren't ya tired?"
"Hmm. Mmhmm."
"Yeah, thought so."
Jason leads you up the stairs and out of the Cave. He helps keep you steady as you trip up the stairs. He's tempted to just carry you, but he feels like that might be overkill.
Once at the top of the stairs, Jason stops. Swallows.
He hasn't been up here in a while. He slept in his room once after he returned, after a nasty encounter with Scarecrow.
"Wanna sleep in your bed, Jay," you mumble, cheek against his arm.
Jason sighs. "Yeah. Okay, love."
You go to his room. It's clean, as usual—Alfred never let it get dusty. Jason had hoped that if you ever saw his room it would be in much different circumstances. Normal circumstances.
But, well. Here you are.
"Hmm, 's nice," you say as Jason pulls back the bedspread and helps you out of your shoes. You start to take off your pants and he panics.
"Uh! Uh, baby, maybe keep the pants on. You might get cold."
You frown in confusion. "Doesn't feel cold."
"Yeah, but, whew, Alfred blasts the AC! Jus' keep 'em on."
Jason cannot handle seeing you in your underwear. He draws the line there.
"'Kay," you say, and flop onto the sheets. You wiggle around, getting comfortable.
Jason sits in the fat armchair in the corner of the room. Immediately, you sit up.
"Why're you over there?" you ask, eyes wide.
Oh, boy.
"Oh. I was, um, gonna read for a bit. I'll come in in a while."
Your lip trembles. No—
"Don't leave me, Jaybee. Don't leave! Stay with me. I love you!"
Jason rubs his forehead. "Honey—"
"You hate me! You do! I annoy you." Tears gather in your eyes.
Jason hurries to the edge of his bed, climbing in in his jeans and socked feet.
"No, no, love, we covered this. I don't hate ya, hm? Where'd ya get a silly thing like that?"
You quiet as he scoots in beside you. Then you throw most of your limbs over him. Jason stiffens.
"Just got scared," you say, and kiss his chest. "Promise you won't leave?"
Jason breathes in. Breathes out.
"Yeah. I promise."
And he stays.
You wake up with a faint headache and a dry throat. Sunlight peeks through the blinds. You feel warm and safe and well-rested, despite the slight pains.
You stretch, expecting air. Instead, you touch skin. You open your eyes.
Oh. You're in a bedroom.
No, scratch that. You see framed pictures of the Bats, books on shelves.
You're in Jason Todd's childhood bedroom. With the aforementioned tucked under your arm and leg.
You jerk away so hard, you land on the carpeted floor below.
Jason's up instantly, head poking over the bed. His eyes widen.
"Shit! Y'alright? C'mere."
He gets up and practically scoops you into a standing position. Your brain short-circuits: big strong man strong big good nice. Then you recover.
"Um," you say. "Uh. Hmm. Hi."
Jason smiles tightly. "Hey."
"What... how-?"
"Right. How much do you remember?"
You try to think. You remember walking home, drinking tea, an affectionate orange cat. You remember hands on your face and your stomach swooping on a motorcycle and a gentle voice. So gentle.
"You were magicked," Jason says quickly. "It was a, uh, tea shop. Dick's checking it out. You, um, came to me and I took you here and you got an antidote and you didn't want me to, um, leave. So, yeah. Sorry."
You tilt your head. "Why are you apologizing, Jason?"
He sighs. "Just 'cause."
You have no idea what that means. But you feel like Jason's telling you a very condensed version of what happened.
"What was the magic?" you ask.
He winces. "Love spell. You thought you were... in love with me."
Jason says it like he's the one who charmed you. Like he's ashamed of it.
"Oh," you say. Well, you certainly didn't need a spell for that to happen.
"Yeah." Jason's staring at your and his shoes by the door. "But everything's fine now. I can take you home. Dick and Tim'll take care of the tea shop witch."
He doesn't wait for a response, darting to the door and slipping into his shoes. You rush forward and close the door as Jason opens it. He looks at you in confusion.
"Jason," you say softly. "What happened?"
"Whaddya mean? I told you."
"Jason. I've known you for three years. You think I don't know when you're not telling me something?"
He looks at his feet. One of his socks has a hole in the toe.
"There's nothin' to tell," he mumbles. "Magic stuff. Happens all the time. Business as usual."
You frown. "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable, Jay. I admittedly don't remember a lot."
Jason's expression is relief but there's a heaviness to his shoulders. "Well, 's for the best, really. Magic messes with your head."
"Did I make you uncomfortable, Jason? Not letting you leave and—God, I can't imagine how I was on the spell."
He shakes his head fervently. "No! No, no, my God, no. You didn't—you could never—I mean, I wasn't... fuck. No. You didn't make me uncomfortable."
"If you're sure," you say.
He nods. "Hundred percent."
Jason doesn't sound like he's lying. You're pretty good at detecting it, especially when it comes to his feelings.
So why is he acting weird?
Well, duh. A love spell. You probably freaked him out, especially since you really do love him.
"I hope we can still be friends," you offer.
Jason turns to the door.
"Yeah," he says quietly. "'Course we're still friends."
It shouldn't make you ache. Jason's perfectly in the right to not reciprocate how you feel. How can he reciprocate something he doesn’t even know exists?
"You, uh..." Jason scratches the back of his neck. He faces you once more. "You said last night that you were sad. When you were coming home. I just wanted to say, y'know... you can talk to me. 'Bout anything."
This will make all of your problems disappear, she had said. It'd tasted like kombucha—you hadn't had a lot of faith.
Jason begins to open the door. You slide in front of him and slam the door shut with your back. He steps back in surprise.
"Wh—"
"I have to tell you something!" you blurt.
Jason stills. "Okay."
"I adopted you a cat," you say.
He squints. "What?"
"Well, she's still at the shelter but I put her on reserve. Of a sort. I have a friend who works there. She's black and white and likes to cuddle and has two different colored eyes but she can't see very well. Her name is... whatever you want to name her. Because she's yours. And I think you'll love her."
He nods slowly. "I, uh, thanks. Thank you. I was thinking about adopting a—"
"I was sad last night because I kept thinking about how you're gonna love this cat I got you but you'll never love me, and how that's the fucking worst feeling in the world."
You've stunned him silent. Shit.
Seconds tick by. A minute. Two minutes.
"Okay," you say, wanting to jump out of Jason's two-story window. "I'm gonna go drop off the face of the Earth now. Bye."
You open the door. Jason closes it by caging you against it.
And then he kisses you.
Jason pours everything into the kiss. He's not a perfect kisser but it's good. It's magic. He holds your face completely, shuts out the entire world. Kisses the breath out of you.
Yes, you could go on. It's fantastic. It's fireworks. It's sunbeams.
And actually, it feels like the most normal thing in the world, kissing Jason Todd.
{My first ever Jason Todd drabble + my first time writing any kind of fanfic. i hope you enjoy!!}
The sound of the last of the thugs hitting the floor bounces off the walls of the warehouse. Thick red liquid pools around his head, and Jason drops the crowbar he’s holding with an equally loud clang.
He finally did it.
He killed the last man involved in his murder.
Yet he feels no different inside. In fact, the screaming voices he’s been tormented with since his rebirth at the Lazarus Pit have only gotten louder.
He grimaces and clutches the sides of his head as a swirling symphony of dark thoughts berate him. Cool pain shoots against his skull as he repeatedly bashes the side of his head until they stop.
Dazedly, he stares at the countless dead bodies in front of him.
Jason’s shoulders are slumped. He’s beyond defeated. After grisly hours of fighting, blood, dirt, and flesh stain his entire body — including his conscience. The echoes of voices pleading for reprieve won’t leave his head, so he runs.
He runs all the way to your shitty little apartment on the coast of Gotham.
Jason’s eyes catch on the sight of you through your window, bathed in warmth from your reading light as you lay curled on your couch. Jason knows he’s tainting your life.
He’s too selfish to care.
You jump as your window slides open and a familiar dark figure hauls himself through it.
Jason can’t stop himself from groveling. He’s sick, and you’re the cure. He offers all of himself to you, his undying devotion for your attention.
His dirty boots leave marks on your carpet as he clambers to you. Halfway to the couch, he drops to his knees and crawls, legs giving out after too much fighting and the mental burden too much death brings.
The world feels like it’s in slow motion as shallow breaths leave your lungs and the large man clumsily makes his way to you.
You sit there in shock, your body unable to move as he reaches out to you. Trying not to squirm as bloodied hands slide up your thighs, painting two trails of red and staining skin red with sin, you attempt to meet Jason’s gaze.
Your breath catches as sickness rises in your stomach.
He’s too out of it to even realize he’s getting you dirty.
Contact to your skin awakens something in him, and all of a sudden his body is softly shaken with silent sobs. Soft words of prayer leave Jason’s lips as if you’re a deity with the ability to deliver repentance from his transgressions.
You’re stiff as your body shudders before your hands find his hair, unsure and shaking slightly. The thick strands wrapped around your fingers ground you as you tug them to bend his head back, exposing his red-rimmed eyes and bruised face. He’s at your mercy.
The tears keep running, mixing with blood and snot, making him look pathetic.
His eyes are haunted with something you’ll never understand as a civilian. His voice is devastatingly broken when he finally speaks.
“I couldn’t stop, I—”
He breaks off into more pitiful sobs before he can finish his sentence.
Your skin burns where he clutches onto you. The hands in his hair drag down to cup his face as you try to wipe away his tears — a futile attempt, as they just continue to pour.
Like a god forgiving their follower, you whisper:
“I know.”
He leans into your hands, pressing deeper into you. He’s consumed completely by you as he wraps around you entirely, as if attempting to purify himself with your innocence.
The look on his face makes him seem smaller than he is.
Like a child.
The voices haunting his mind don’t stop — they never do — and he buries his face into the plush of your thighs.
Blood drips off of him onto the clean carpet, something that can be cleaned unlike Jason’s hands.
His mind is stuck on the impurity he holds forever, all because of the Joker, and a mix of anger and sorrow bubbles within him. And still you don’t push him away. All-good. All-powerful. All-knowing.
Wholesome!König who is completely infatuated with you, but is too shy to ask you out.
You work at a coffee shop near base that he frequents in the mornings. He so rarely encounters civilian women that even seeing you in your sexless uniform, your hat and apron with funky little buttons pinned along the straps, stirs butterflies in his stomach for the first time in years. His favorite part of your appearance is the stunning smile you wear when speaking with customers.
Not him, of course. He downloaded the app so he could order ahead and just pick up - that way, he didn't have to talk to anybody. Online ordering is how he takes care of most of his business. Sometimes, you catch his eye when he goes to the pickup counter and give him a little nod or wave of acknowledgement that send him into temporary cardiac arrest. He's relieved when he can get back to his car and read your little sharpie messages in peace.
In the app he'd put himself in as Col - a throwback to his rank the Austrian Army before he'd opted for the mercenary life. It felt tacky to use his callsign outside work and he was certainly not going to use his real name. So in gorgeous cursive you would write, "Col," and beneath it, various levels of silly, unhinged nonsense:
"For the motherland!"
"Prove your bullies wrong"
"It's only illegal if you get caught"
"Don't look behind you"
So liebenswert. You're quirky and cute and every now and then you wear these glasses (he can't tell if they're prescription or blue-light) that just make him melt. He's always had a thing for girls in glasses. Everything about you is too good for him.
He flirts with the idea of finally getting in line and asking you for dark roast face-to-face. Maybe you'd like his (stupid) accent. Maybe you would comment on his (inconvenient) height or flash him one of those (undeserved) smiles.
Late one night, past the hour when good ideas happen, he decides on an alternative. He orders a bouquet of flowers and writes nothing more than your name on the card. Many of your pins are purple, so he picks one with lavender. Hopefully it'll make you smile - maybe even make your cheeks heat with a blush. He won't be there to see it, but knowing that he's brightened your day the way you brighten his is enough.
What he's definitely not expecting to see is a sprig of lavender tucked behind your ear along with your cap. His eyes go so wide he thinks he'll give himself away. He somehow manages to grab his order and escape before you make eye contact.
You seem to like his gift, even if you don't know it's from him. Maybe he should send some more.
Next week it's chocolates. Then it's a teddy bear. The week after, he tries something a little outside the box. Since lots of your pins have various activist messages on them about the environment or women's rights, he pays to have some trees planted in your name and has the certificate delivered to the coffee shop. He sees it framed on the wall not long after.
König is perfectly happy with this whole arrangement. He gets to make you smile and maybe he's even sparked a little crush, without any of the anxiety the comes from a social interaction. It's one-sided and undeniably cowardly, sure, but he allows himself to fantasize that it might grow into something more. And fantasy is safe. It cannot disappoint.
But when he visits your place of business the following Monday, his heart skins into his stomach.
Strung around your neck is a paper that says, "Are you my secret admirer? Come talk to me!!" in purple sharpie.
His immediate instinct is to flee. A conversation with you cannot possibly end well, and the very notion of seeing the sparkle in your eyes dim as he confesses is enough to make him forgo his breakfast drink.
But this is fucking ridiculous! He's KorTac's top heavy. He has a decorated military career with a confirmed kill count that's had him scouted by every PMC on the continent.
Ich kann mit einem süßen Mädchen reden, he tells himself resolutely. He snatches his order and stands in line.
When he reaches you, the look of shock on your face feels like a knife to the gut. But you quickly say, "Col! Oh my gosh, did I get something wrong with your order this morning?"
"No. It's perfect."
You light up like a Christmas tree, and oh shit, he has it bad.
"I'm glad. Is there anything else I can get you?"
Taking a deep breath, he carefully says, "I just wanted to talk to you before I left."
You look extremely puzzled as he begins to back away, so he gives a subtle nod towards your chest. Come talk to me. You follow his eyes and seem to understand his meaning - but he's already halfway out the door.
He's thrilled and terrified and he's absolutely going to vomit up this coffee if he drinks it, so he leaves it on his desk with your "Fight the power" message facing him all day. Ball's in your court, now. If you like what you see, you'll find some way to reciprocate - and if not, you can go on ignoring him and König won't push. He's just proud of himself for making a move.
When he goes in for coffee the next morning, your phone number is written in big bubble letters on his cup surrounded by purple hearts.
===
Thanks for reading! I have longfics for every CoD 141 boy + Konig on my masterlist, if you're interested 😅
computer show me men with wet spots in their underwear. men making a mess in their boxers. men gasping and panting. men pressing their thighs together. men with trembling hands and sweat beading on their neck. men with warm, sweet skin between their thighs. men twitching. computer. computer can you hear me.
könig who’s an avid poster on r/kitchencels. partially because he likes getting compliments on his food, and because he likes the idea of being part of some sort of community. weirdly he’s pretty well known on the subreddit for cooking amazing meals with an equally antithetical title.
something like “usually wear something to cover my face in public. tried to leave it off today. the cashier at the grocery store asked her male coworker to ring me up instead. crispy fried oysters with carbonara”
or
“hired someone to sleep with me. as soon as I took my pants off she started crying and left. got my refund though. duck breast with orange sauce.”
but then theres someone new commenting on his posts, always asking for the recipie or how he gets perfect feet on his macaroons. and next thing you know, konig is looking through your comment history, trying to find out who you are.
lucky for him, you like to post --- on your city’s subreddit, on cat care posts, on threads for best options at your local petco.
so, it doesn’t take much time for him to find you name and address. he does work in the military after all. and lucky for him, you’re only a 30-minute drive from base.
he thinks of cooking for you, and fucking you. in which order he doesn’t really care. the thought of a girlfriend is quick to root into his mind. someone who asks for his recipies and cares about what he has to say.
days later he’s bumping into you from behind at the grocery store, asking to help you with the heavy bags of cat food, inquiring about the breed of your cat (he knows).
his next post reads a little different from his usual:
“found someone who feels like the first sun after a long winter. not sure which god made this come true. caramel glazed donuts i made and she ate.”
your roommate, biker!JASON TODD, still hasn’t taken his helmet off.
readers can expect: a helmet wearing jason todd x fem!reader in an undefined relationship. reader in a dress and makeup. use of nicknames like “baby” and “sunshine.” implied consent but not explicitly stated. thigh riding and some dirty talk. minor, minor amounts of fingering.
he’d just gotten home from a ride, the same time you’d gotten back from shopping. you always did the same thing after, so he’d settled himself into a chair to give you and your new clothes an audience. but the mirrored panel he’s watching you through doesn’t give you the same privilege.
you can’t see his eyes, can’t tell if he likes the clothes or not.
he’s been silent the whole time, too. if you didn’t know him better, you’d worry he was mad at you. but you know him well. sometimes you think better than he knows himself. jason just doesn’t talk if he feels like he doesn't need to..or if he’s extremely distracted.
he’s leaning back in the chair, his arms crossed. the motion is making his forearms bulge. the fabric of his flannel straining, already rolled up to his elbows.
your brain is light and fluttery at the idea of his arms holding you close. his hips meeting yours with each thrust. his helmet on.
you’re itching for him to touch you. itching.
you twirl in the new black dress you got, hoping to catch a reaction of some sort.
he tightens his grip on his bicep. shifts in his seat, spreading his legs wider. the fabric around his crotch is definitely more taut than it was when you started.
but he says nothing.
you practically gulp, turning around to go put on the last thing you got.
you come back out in a new red dress. the ruching up the sides pulls the fabric tight against your skin. it ends mid thigh, but you might’ve hiked it up a little higher. might’ve reapplied your lipstick before coming back out. tousled your hair a little bit. who’s to say?
you come a little closer this time, spinning again. you stop, propping a hand onto your hip.
“what do you think?” you turn to the side.
his head tilts. he says nothing.
“okay, well, this was the last thing.” you turn, starting down the hallway.
jason mumbles, the words lost into his helmet. you stop in your tracks. spin back around.
“hm?” you step closer. “did you say something?”
the bulge in jason’s pants is too obvious to ignore now. he shakes his head, beckoning to you, patting his leg.
you have to hold yourself back from practically running to him.
you sit yourself down on a thigh, his hand immediately finding the curve of your ass. electricity runs up your spine. his other hand settles on your upper thigh, slowly inching closer to the junction of your legs. warmth unfurls in your belly at the sensation of the leather of his glove on your bare skin. you lean in, throwing your arms around his neck.
still nothing.
you’re looking at yourself in the mirror covering his eyes. it irks you. you want to see his eyes, the dark slashes of his eyebrows. the corner of your mouth rises as you bring your face in, and plant a lipsticked kiss on the plastic of his visor. jason pinches your waist. his cock twitches behind the thick fabric of his pants. he’s grateful he has his helmet on. it’s hiding his rapidly reddening cheeks.
he recovers, flipping up his tagged visor. just to make a show of rolling his eyes at you. his grip on your thigh tightens as you study the sliver of his face he’s letting you see. a tuft of hair covers his forehead, his telltale white streak cutting through the darker hair, into his right eyebrow.
he looks at you through half-lidded, deep blue eyes, his eyebrows furrowed.
you smile at him, batting your lashes. the itch grows stronger.
he rolls his eyes, again.
“feelin’ feisty today, huh, sunshine?”
you nod, humming in agreement. jason tightens his arms around you, bringing you closer. his eyes narrow, the look in them making the heartbeat between your thighs pound harder. you squeeze your legs together. jason glances down, then scoffs, shaking his head.
“you’re shameless.” he decides.
you nod again, blushing a little as you concede.
he adjusts you, grabbing at the fabric around your hips, pulling it up until it’s bunched around your waist. he pauses when he sees the lace of your underwear covering your sex, his own heart pounding in his ears. he fights the urge to clear his throat, a nervous tic he has that you’d pick up on immediately. he can’t fuck this up. he’s been desperate to touch you since the last time you let him, done nothing but think about the pretty little sounds you’d made. he’s gotta play this just right.
“were these really necessary?” he hooks a finger on the waistband, raising his eyebrow. a giggle bubbles out of your throat as you stand up.
“..my underwear? yeah, i’d say they might be.” it’s your turn to roll your eyes, and you do, before pulling off them off.
jason grabs them from you, wrapping the lacy fabric around his wrist like a bracelet. at your shocked face, he shrugs.
“just for safekeeping, sunshine. i’d say don’t get your panties inna twist about it, but ‘s a little late for that.”
he looks up at you in his helmet, and even though the lower half of his face is covered, you can practically see the cocky smile he’s wearing. you set yourself back onto his leg, straddling his thick thigh. the rough fabric of his riding pants meets the smooth skin of your inner thigh, a wet spot already forming.
“well? show me how bad you want it.” he settles back.
you brace your hands on his shoulders while he folds his own gloved hands on his stomach.
you move your hips, starting a delicious rhythm. the friction makes you moan, feels so good you don’t even realize you’re making a sound. you rock yourself back and forth, back and forth. the movement jostling your tits.
jason’s eyes flicker down, his eyebrows raising. a low groan emanates from his throat. the sound takes you to another level. he reaches up, pulling the front of your dress down. his eyes flare in response, breaking his tense posture to reach up with a gloved hand and palm one.
the worn in leather on the delicate skin of your chest feels like heaven. he pinches a nipple, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. the combined stimulation drives you to move your hips faster, gripping your fingers into the sturdy angles of his shoulders.
your hands on him has his cock aching, no doubt leaking pre all over the front of his underwear. he can’t believe what you’re able to do to him without even trying.
“that’s right, baby.” he takes in how your face changes, pleasure so acute it’s unmistakable on your features.
“use me, just like that.”
you pick up the pace just a little, your toes curling as his eyebrows raise and he nods his encouragement. his big hands sink into the flesh of your tits, kneading them as you move.
“that’s right, you’re so close, keep going—”
it builds up, and up, and up, the waves cresting as your thighs clench around his, your back arches, you throw your head back. jason is humming is approval deep in his throat. he swipes your clit a few times with his leather-clad thumb, drawing out your orgasm, making your thighs tremble.
“needed that bad, huh?”
your face grows hot, and you flip his visor down.
he pushes it up again, rolling his eyes at you as the corners of them crinkle with what you can guess is a smile. jason caresses your thigh with his hand as you slump into his chest. your breathing matches his, and he brushes your hair out of your face.
theartofmadeline
gummygunk
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