⋆˚꩜｡ headcannons for. . . jason todd – who's started therapy recently
jason needs time to unwind todd who comes home speechless most nights. on one hand he wants to collapse onto the couch with you and say nothing at all, but on the other he wants to actually be a person with you – not a robot. not the knight (anymore). he doesnt trust he wont be a cold, killing machine, asshole if he doesnt take time to completely wind down from the night. so he'll come home silently, take a shower/bath, read a book, take a few minutes to breathe on his own in a quiet room before coming to you with a exhausted smile.
"hey. yeah sorry, just needed a minute."
and the first time he does it, if you're still kind of confused he'll add quietly; "wanna be jason with you, not him."
jason flagging emotions todd who in an arguement will have to take a moment to tell you what he's feeling. sure it sounds like something hed NEVER do – like i think after his therapist suggested to him he probably laughed it off thinking it was pathetic – but if you two are having your tenth arguement of the day he finally caves and tries it on the off chance it works.
in the middle of a fight and he would just – "look, im... fuck this is stupid... i'm really really angry right now. like i have an itching feeling under my skin and i just want to punch something and i don't know what to do with it so im just telling you in hopes itll make this less... not as much..." he grits out, staring you down. not with anger anymore but with shame and embarrassment.
jason hiding panic attacks todd because whilst he does go to therapy now and knows that pretty much all of his mental health issues are valid, one thing he'll always believe is that panic attacks – especially his – are pathetic and a plain sign of weakness. he simply cant wrap his head around the fact that his own mind can convince him he's dying, the same mind that goes after criminals on the streets and fights for his life every other day. so he constantly hides it whenever they come on. if he's on patrol? he finds a rooftop to sit down and curl up on for a while. if its at night in your apartment? he runs the shower whilst sitting on the floor. and if you try to intervene or comfort him he might literally run away.
jason not sharing all his issues todd because going to therapy doesnt mean he has to be FULLY transparent with them right? there are just some thing he will never ever talk about. some things that are way too dark that he'll never touch again. he might make it easy for his doctor to infer whats happened but he will never say it out right.
"he's a madman who was sickly obsessed with a 16-year-old boy. what do you think he did after he started running out of ways to torture me physically? you're smart doc, do the fuckin' math."
jason tries healthy eating habits todd and he really does try. does the whole meal prep thing, makes sure he gets his protein – hell sometimes you make him healthy meals. but at the end of the day the only food that really brings him comfort and joy at the end of a long hard mission is a greasy, minuse-five healthstar rating cheesburger.
jason has trouble keeping certain foods down todd due to the torture in arkham – where joker would force feed him rotten, maggot infested foods. apples (most fruits for that matter) and pizza specifically, are the foods that make him sick to his stomach. ptsd raging the second the food touches his tongue. he just can't do it. he tries to force feed himself pizza one night but spends his time for the next few hours hunched over the toilet, sobbing silently as you sit there just rubbing his back.
"fuck i hate this so much..." he'll whisper.
"you spoken to your therapist about it?" you ask softly.
he'll just give you a look that says – 'what do you think?'
jason coping mechanisms todd and his way of coping is obsessively cleaning his weapons to a point where his hands are raw. his way of coping is by satisfying a little voice in his head that his therapist calls ocd. if you try and stop him he either lashes out or crumbles completely depending on the day.
"let me fucking do this," he says harshly.
or...
"please just... i need to do this... this last one please..." he'll whisper painfully quiet.
jason setting boundaries todd when he first heard of the idea – not unlike his reaction to everything else his therapist suggests – he thought it was fucking ridiculous. but then he got to thinking, maybe boundary setting might actually work. so he mentions it one night when you two are about to sleep. saying something small like;
"when you... put a hand on my chest... can you put it here instead? just... feels a bit... intense when you touch that scar..."
and you just nod, listening. and he sighs, glad you didn't make it a thing. he then keeps doing it.
"ask me before you do that"
"dont touch my guns unless i say, alright?"
"sorry if this is annoying i just... could you give me half an hour when i first get home? just to unwind you know?"
jason relaying therapy todd because sometimes the shit he hears his therapist say is straight up crazy or just rage bait. he'll complain about his therapist to you – almost as if you're his second therapist. he'll talk to you about stuff his therapist has said that he doesn't understand. you'll explain it to him in a way that makes more sense and he'll finally get it. same with weird excercises his therapist gives him. you'll just ask him to try, once and he will. but he'll do it quietly, without you knowing – then tell you hours later if it worked.
jason understanding bruce todd there comes a point in therapy where everything finally clicks for jason and he realises that bruce's love isn't measured by how far he'll go to avenge jason. he becomes acutely aware that him and bruce have a fundamental difference in worldview, and their versions of love – whilst entirely different – are shown in glimpses of their every day life. for example;
bruce dedicating an entire shelf in the wayne manor library to jasons favourite childhood books.
jason stops killing people when on missions for batman/with the batfamily as a sign of respect for his moral code even if when he's on his own patrols he'd kill a man without blinking.
they are very similar, but also painfully contrasting. once jason comes to this realisation he's a lot calmer, and has a lot more time and energy for bruce. he'll come by the manor finally (through the front door rather than the window alfred has been leaving his favourite food at for the past few years) and he now has it in him to be a part of the batfamily again. he might come home to you and get emotional about it all but at the end of the day, despite all bruce and jasons tensions, he just wants his dad.
NOTE: sorry i've been away for so long i promise ill get back to the fics if you want me to. life has been insane and i can't wait to get back to all this x
You'd known each other for years, but you two had been 'together' for about three months.
Together, meaning it'd been three months since he came to your apartment after a long patrol and said:
"I don't know why, but I think I need to be around you right now."
That was the day you'd figured he'd be coming around more often than not. The day you were officially–non–officially together.
The last couple of months had been meeting on the roof, late-night texts and the occasional hangouts whilst watching a shitty movie until he eventually left, which he always did so reluctantly, but mentioned it was necessary.
So when you got a text telling you to meet him at a certain burger joint at 8PM, excitement bubbled in your stomach.
Finally, a date.
You got dressed, did your hair and makeup, and set off at 7:45PM. Not missing the red-hooded figure that was jumping across rooftops, going conveniently in the same direction. He was looking out for you.
The date was... a little awkward. He barely spoke; he rarely did anyway, but you'd expect a little conversation in a situation like this.
"I have somewhere I want to show you," he says, somewhat abruptly
Your eyes flick up to him from the empty plate in front of you, "Yeah?"
Then, before you know it, you're on his bike. Riding through Gotham. You wondered where he was taking you, but you also made the most of how close you had to be when riding on a motorcycle with someone. Arms around his waist as you squeezed tight.
He stopped in a quieter, hidden-away part of Gotham. There weren't many nice places in this city, but this was a quaint little area.
You took off the helmet as he took off his.
"You can leave yours on the bike," he mutters as he nods to the handle. So you do as he says, his helmet under his arm as he walks towards a house.
You follow closely behind, "Is this your place?"
He nods, the jingle of his keys in his hand as he unlocks the door, stepping aside to let you in.
"Look, it's not much, but it's me," he shrugs, shifting subconsciously on his feet, "It's got everything I need. It's practical."
You just take it all in, it's a small house – very small. Pizza boxes stacked on top of each other, empty beer bottles around, dirty scuff marks on the floor. But it was so him.
He clears his throat, almost anxiously. You turn to look at him, "You're right, it's very you."
He huffs, crossing his arms across his chest, "Not a bad thing though..." Jason mutters, a statement – as if telling himself.
You smile at him, "Well, I like you. So not a bad thing at all."
He nods once, but notices how your eyes catch the wall behind him, then down to the workbench, both of which are covered in weapons.
Jason just studies you, swallowing as if caught in the act of something bad.
"You've customised them all," You say in awe, stepping closer to the wall and workbench of weapons.
He cocks his head at that, surprised, "Uh... yeah, I have," he eyes the weapons, then his gaze lands back on you.
"Some of the modifications on these are insane, Jason..." You're just studying the twin kimbers now.
He's staring at you, dumfounded.
"You know... guns?" his lips quirk upwards at the corners only slightly.
You nod, "Dad owned a shooting range, I know a little."
"How much is a little?" he asks as he shifts to stand beside you, staring up at all his handywork.
"Enough to know that you've fitted a new barrel to them, and added a suppressor, and those grips are entirely different from the ones that come with that specific model," you say in admiration of his work.
He turns to stare at you, "A little, my ass," he scoffs, "So you've known all this shit the whole time we've known each other?"
You shake your head as you turn to face him, smiling, "I was hired at the Gazette for my weapons knowledge originally, before I moved on to certain vigilante exposés." He's never been more impressed, just standing there in silence. Now smiling at you. You turn around and walk a little further into the small space of the living room that's connected to a kitchenette. "You could probably do without the pizza boxes, by the way."
He's snapped out of his trance as his facial expression falls back to neutral again, nodding, "Yeah, you're probably right."
You look at him, really look. Noticing how he looks uncomfortable, you walk back over to him.
"Hey..." You say softly, "If it's weird having me here, I can leave. We've had a great night and I don't want to–"
"No, no. It's not that..." he says with a sigh as he looks to his feet.
"Then why do you look like you want to run and hide every time I take a step in here?" You ask quietly.
He exhales sharply, "I don't... I don't bring people here."
You nod, waiting for him to continue, "Okay..."
"How do I..." he mutters, working out how to articulate his thoughts, "I think you matter to me." Jason looks at you, "And I... I wanted to bring you here because it's the one place I'm not lookin' over my shoulder, you know?"
You nod again, reaching out and holding a hand in yours. His eyes drop to it. "I'm listening," you reassure him.
He's still staring at your hands laced together when he speaks again, "Fuck, I'm so shit at this..." he whispers, "You matter. And I've... these last few months have been... really good. And... and for a while there, I thought I wouldn't get anything good again. Fuck, am I making sense?"
You smile at him even though he's not looking, "Yeah, perfect sense."
He takes a deep breath, "I guess what I'm trying to say is... I don't feel comfortable most of the time. And this is... this is the only place I can relax, so you being here is just..."
"Intense? Like I've climbed into your brain, and I'm running around in it?" You finish for him.
He lets out a noise close to a laugh but more self-deprecatory, "Yeah, exactly." Jason's eyes come back to yours as he says this next part, "I don't know what I'm doing with this, but bringing someone here is a thing... for me."
He looks pained as he says it, as if he's getting fed up with his inability to explain how he really feels. Your thumb rubs his in circles as you look up at him.
"Thank you for bringing me here," You say with another fond smile.
He just nods and shrugs, "Yeah, okay."
You huff a laugh, "You and your feelings, huh?"
He just huffs a laugh back as he brings you into a hug. Jason rarely initiated physical contact with you, so you hugged him tight. Arms around his neck as you brought a calming hand into his hair.
"I think you're really good for me," Jason mutters into the side of your head, "It's terrifying."
You nod, "I know, but you deserve something good, Jason."
"Christ, woman, you'll turn me soft," He grumbles, pulling back slightly to look at you.
"Nah, not possible. You're a stubborn man," You say sweetly as you stare up into his eyes.
"Even Supes has his kryptonite." He says quietly.
You just keep smiling at him, "God, maybe you are going soft."
He just chuckles and pulls you in for a soft, tender, incredibly rare, kiss.
Hi! So I'm kinda new to your channel. May I request one fic w like Damian Wayne or dick Grayson OR Jason Todd (you choose) with a reader whos naturally distance due to like a bad childhood. And they have an argument on that MAKE IT ANGSTY BUT END WITH FLUFF PLEASE. Only if it's like comfortable for you! :p
ˎˊ˗ perfect girl – jason todd
hii!! i'm just gonna write for jason bc idk if ill do dick justice yk and i feel bad writing abt damian bc in my mind hes a literal child (i wouldnt do damian justice either) hope u enjoy x
idk if i did the prompt justice so i might heavily edit/rewrite bits of this but here we areee
You'd not spoken to Jason in a while. Not for any reason in particular, you just didn't necessarily feel the need. To be fair, Jason hadn't spoken to you recently either. He'd come home exhausted from patrol, and you'd come home spent after a long day of work. The first thing both of you wanted to do was just go to sleep.
Tonight you were watching the news, Chinese food on your lap. The door clicked open.
You turned your head to see him taking off his Red Hood helmet.
"I ordered takeout for you," You said with a mouth full of noodles, "It's probably gone cold, but you can nuke it and it'll taste the same."
You flinched when he threw his helmet on the floor.
"What the fuck is going on, huh?" he shook his head, his hands gesturing in front of him.
Your eyebrows furrowed as you stared at him, confused.
"What are you talking about?"
"What am I talking about?" he laughed bitterly, "How about the fact you've decided to go mute for the past however long. I actually forgot you had a fuckin' voice,"
"Jason..." You sighed as you put the takeout box onto the coffee table in front of you.
"What did I do now? Hm?" he sounded exasperated, "Tell me. How did I fuck it all up this time? How did I manage to push you away again? Come on, lecture me."
"You haven't done anything, I promise."
"THEN WHAT THE FUCK IS IT?!" he yelled. You jumped at the volume change.
"Dont yell at me." Your voice shook slightly, and his face softened the tiniest bit.
"Don't ignore me,"
"I'm not ignoring you," You say, wide-eyed, "You're pushing me away too–"
"Wow."
"No, seriously." You stand up now, maybe to assert some dominance in the conversation.
He exhales, calming himself down the way his, in his words, 'money-grabbing shrink' taught him. He took a few steps towards you, bringing you in for a hug. His hands around your neck and a hand in your hair, yours around his middle.
"I'm sorry for yelling," he whispered into your hair, "I just don't want to fuck this up. And if I've done something to shut you out..." he pulled away, hands trailing down your arms to take your hands in his, "What'd I do, baby. Tell me, I'll fix it."
His eyes searched yours for an answer. Truth was, it had nothing to do with him.
"It's not you..." You said softly.
"It's always me, don't be fuckin' ridiculous," he shook his head.
"See, this is–" You break away from his hands as you pace back and forth, "This is why I can't do this..."
You feel your breathing pick up, "What are you saying..." he said darkly.
You stopped dead in your tracks.
"I am not perfect, Jason. Shocker, I know." You snapped, the words spilling out before you could censor them, "You– You put me on this pedestal like– like I'm this crazily amazing perfect Barbie doll that is new and shiny and pristine and– I'm not a–" Your breathing was doing that thing again, fuck.
"Baby," he tried to come towards you, but you gestured for him to stay put.
"No, no. You need to hear this. Really hear this." You brushed a stray strand of hair away from your face, "I know that you think you're worth less than me because of what happened in Arkham. You think I'm– That I'm not has dirtied or as ruined as you are," his face dropped as you mentioned that pit of hell, "And I'd never ever compare my shit to yours Jason, never. Because you'll always have me beat. But my God, am I fucked up too,"
He tilted his head, not understanding the words that were coming out of your mouth. As if you were speaking a foreign language.
"Every night you go out there, I could lose you. And that might sound like a trivial, non–issue type problem, but you are the only thing keeping me from spiralling down a rabbit hole of all this dark shit wound up inside me. So yeah, I've been... distant. Because if I lose–" you pause, the muscles of your eyes aching as tears begin to form, "I really can't lose you."
He was in complete shock. He'd fully thought he was in the wrong; she'd been mad at him. He couldn't have been more wrong.
"You shouldn't worry about me," he mumbled softly, concern in his eyes.
"Fucks sake," You throw your head back, turning away from him to look out the window to the apocalyptic street your small apartment overlooks, "Just go to bed, I need a minute."
You hear him sigh, then the sounds of his footsteps get closer.
"Jason, I'm serious. Just leave me alone," You warn, but just as you're about to say something else, his arms wrap around you from behind. Chin on the top of your head.
"I've done the whole death thing already," he mutters, "I'm not doing it again any time soon,"
You leaned back into him, "You can't promise that."
"Well, I just did. Kill me," You let out a puff of air as he said that. It wasn't funny, but he was trying to lighten the mood. "Where'd this come from?"
His fingers began tracing shapes, and you dissolved further into his touch, head falling back onto his chest.
"You were a street kid. You see a lot of shit, make friends with people who disappear. You know how it goes. " He kissed your head as you said that, humming.
Then you spun around, looking up at him.
You tried to apologise to him, but he interrupted you with a tender, slow kiss. Butterflies swarmed your stomach, heat rushing to your face as you pulled back.
"If I ever yell at you again, you take a gun and shoot me. I'm serious– Oh–" He quickly panicked at the death mention, considering everything you'd said, "I mean– shoot me in a non-life-ending way. Fuck,"
You gave him a sad smile, "I love you. A lot."
"Your loss," he smirked as he leaned back down for a kiss.
– ꩜ RED HOOD: HOSTAGE . by @cinder-rxse / 〔 SERIES MASTERLIST 〕
꒰ CHAPTER TWO ꒱ BIRDS OF A FEATHER (1.5k) – You think back to your relationship with Jason, how it came to be. Then you get a text from a familiar old boss, leading you to yet another awkward encounter with Jason
The white envelope sat mesmerisingly on the kitchen counter of your stingy little apartment.
My Daughter. It said on the back.
You refused to open it. He was a vile man. A man well known for being one of the largest crime bosses in all of Gotham. A man you made sure nobody knew you were related to.
You used to be the type a daddy's girl when you were younger; he was your world. God, you wished you could turn a blind eye to everything he's done like so many others do. I mean, it's no secret you don't exactly abide by the law yourself, but you believed sometimes the law wasn't strong enough.
Exhibit A: Your father.
That was part of the reason you and Jason had gotten along so well. You'd never questioned how far he was willing to go for justice, because you knew his heart was in the right place even if his fists weren't.
You'd met him when Batman had asked you to go undercover as a part of the militia. He'd told you to keep a close watch on their leader. You denied him at first, but once he slid the cheque over the table, you were very quickly made agreeable.
You did exactly as asked. You watched. At training, in meetings you'd manage to weasel your way into, even at the odd get-together the soldiers would have at the most underground clubs in the city.
But Jason wasn't an idiot. Having been raised by the Batman, it wasn't easy to pull wool over his eyes. So you weren't surprised when he noticed how your face was somehow always in his peripheral vision. Always watching. Always observing.
You were skilled in combat, one of the best soldiers they'd had. This very quickly made you a valuable asset to the Arkham Knight and his big plans for the new, Batman-free Gotham.
It became apparent to Jason that you two were more alike than he'd originally thought. The way you viewed things, how you dealt with the scum that stained the crime-plagued streets. It was most likely subliminal, but he began to stay around you for longer periods of time. Whether it was going over numbers of the soldiers in the army, or managing attack strategies. Or the odd occasion where he'd ask a personal question.
You'd known your alliance was with Batman – or Bruce Wayne, as you would come to find out. But you felt drawn to Jason in a way you hadn't with anyone else.
Forty-eight hours before the big attack, he'd woken up in a cold sweat – gasping for air as if he'd been underwater for hours. You startled awake, realising you'd fallen asleep on the floor whilst running over the different flanks of soldiers.
And that night, God, that night.
That was the first time you'd noticed how truly broken he was. He was always so logical, so analytic. It made you forget he was a human being, too. Not just the Knight.
What followed was a thing of fantasy. A dreamlike sequence of open-mouthed kisses, disregard for clothes, and the release of an impossibly tightly wound tension that inhabited his whole body, always.
He'd been rough, as if taking out all his frustrations on you. But there was this soft side in between the excruciatingly paced thrusts that would whisper in your ear.
"That's it," "You're okay," "So fuckin' good,"
You'd woken up to an empty bed, but you understood. This was his big moment, his chance to get revenge. You reported everything you knew back to Batman.
"Thank you for this. Our business is done. I'll have the other half of your sum wired into your account tonight."
You were free to do what you wanted now. But honestly, you wanted Jason.
Time passed, and you hadn't seen Jason since that one night eighteen months ago.
But you'd run into each other again unknowingly at an underground artwork auction. You'd been there to steal the art for yourself for another employer who was paying you handsomely.
Or at least, that was your plan, until you ran into the Red Hood. The new vigilante on the block, who quickly gained a reputation for killing people.
It didn't take either of you long to find yourself back in his apartment, mouths colliding, bodies as close as physically possible in positions you'd not thought were theoretically possible.
This time, it was different; he was more Jason.
He never told you a whole lot about his past, but you got snippets. Little windows into the horrors he'd faced in Arkham gave you a better understanding of how his mind worked and what made him tick.
He'd even introduced you to the people in his dysfunctional yet functioning family. You'd helped them during missions more times than you could count. Going straight was difficult, but you did it with Jason.
He'd finally mustered up the courage to ask you to be his girlfriend after over half a year of seeing each other, when you'd received it.
A letter like the one that sat on your kitchen counter today.
My Daughter.
So this time, you weren't looking at it. You left it there, on the counter. Considering the amount of pain the last one caused. A pain Jason would never know about because you weren't allowed to tell him.
BUZZ BUZZ
You took out your phone, and the screen lit up your face in the darkness of your apartment.
BRUCE WAYNE: Get to the manor. Immediately.
You sighed. Eyeing the letter, feeling it invade your privacy.
YOU: On my way now.
In the Batcave now, Bruce is running over some plans for the mission. He needed another undercover job, and Selena wasn't available.
"So I'm your backup Catwoman?" You joked.
"You do have some of her... specific skills," He muttered as he kept typing on the computer.
Dick joined you both at the computer, being in on the fact that you were here to help. You wondered if Jason knew? Didn't matter.
Bruce got up from his chair as he had to take a call from Gordon, which left you and Dick standing there. You took his spot on the seat.
"You should talk to him," Dick says quietly, staring forward at the screens.
You sigh, "No, I really shouldn't."
"Maybe if he knew you didn't actually mean to–"
"I did mean it, Dick." You spoke firmly as you turned to face him, "I had to leave. I was suffocating. Being with him was exhausting, and I had to get out before either I got hurt or he did."
It was a practised line you'd made sure was in your back pocket. It felt wrong to say the words, but it's what you had to do.
"Tell me how you really feel," You heard from behind you. And there he stood, Jason. Arms crossed as he stood as straight as he could, his permanent hunch still plainly obvious. This was the softer, domestic version. Though his expression resembled that of the old him – Arkham Knight.
You huffed. Looking at him before turning your attention back to the computer displays.
Dick looked between you two, "I'll go see where Tim and Damian are at, they might want in on this," he gestured toward the displays. Standing there for a second and then leaving.
Just you two.
Jason joined you at the computer, standing to your side as you typed furiously at the keyboard.
The silence was unbearable. You could hear the buzz of the tension in the air.
You'd had enough. "You need to tell Dick to stay out of our business."
"Been trying for years," he huffed as if he was going to laugh, but you could tell he was mad by his tone.
"Suffocating was a strong word," You mumbled.
He sighed, "Yeah, it was."
You stood up, facing him. He wasn't looking at you at all. Eyes flickering in between screens.
You went to open your mouth to say something when he cut you off.
"Tell Bruce I'm skipping this one," his voice is clipped, and he then looks down at you, finally meeting your eyes. "Would hate to suffocate anyone,"
You scoffed, "Okay, I understand that was a shitty thing to say. But you called me a selfish bitch the other day."
"You're a selfish bitch now. I didn't say that's how I felt when we–" he stopped himself. "I really just can't stand looking at your face. It actually makes me want to suffocate someone. Namely, you," his face was about an inch away from yours as he spat out the words. Anyone looking from afar would think you were about to kiss each other. His eyes flicked between yours before he walked away.
You threw your head back in resignation.
"It shocks me, Todd's taste in women includes such loud-mouthed ones," you hear from below, "We all know he's not above killing, so I'm shocked to see you're still standing with a heartbeat. Though he has gone noticeably soft, which is most likely your doing,"
"Damian," you greet him, looking down at the boy staring back at you.
📩 requests are open ! (gang do i turn this into an actual fic??)
– ꩜ ARKHAM KNIGHT: HOLLOW . by @cinder-rxse / 〔 SERIES MASTERLIST 〕
꒰ CHAPTER ONE ꒱ HONEY, I'M HOME? (2.2k) – You wait up for Jason to get home, making sure he's somewhat in-tact. But tonight, he finally crosses a line.
It'd been a few months since he'd gotten out. You usually waited up for him to get back home, wanting to make sure he was alive and somewhat well before you drifted off. A byproduct of losing him the first time, a little over two years ago. So you waited.
He'd been getting back later recently, all the shit with the militia. You never asked about it, couldn't bring yourself to listen to the things he was doing as the Arkham Knight. Besides, he never really wanted to talk about it. He never wanted to talk about much anymore. Only yell. Punch. Break. He never laid a hand on you, but the holes in the walls were evidence of this newfound, frankly quite terrifying, aggression – no, rage.
You were sitting on the couch, playing with a loose thread of the blanket. What mood would he be in tonight? You thought to yourself with a sigh, trying to remind yourself that you really did love him. That was probably the problem. That was the problem.
The door opened quickly before it shut. Your eyes trailed up to the movement. And there he was, back facing you. His armour is scuffed up compared to when he first started wearing it. You didn't like this new suit he wore. It made him look inhuman, terrifying – untouchable. Which you supposed was probably the point. He didn't move from the door, just pressed his head against the door and breathed deeply. Even with the metal on his body, you could see the slow rise and fall of his shoulders. You sat up a little straighter, waiting for whatever was next.
He slowly turns around, taking off his dull metal helmet that still glistened in the moonlight that shone from the window next to the kitchenette. He set it on the counter, then began taking off the rest of his suit. Your eyes, however, were glued to his face.
Christ, his face.
It truly was a heartbreaking sight, no matter how many times you told yourself it didn't matter. It did. Not in a shallow way, but the weight of the scars mattered. It was a small window into the suffering he endured at the gloved hands of that psychopath. Imagining even a tenth of a second of the pain he'd had to go through to get each one of those scars was a haunting image. But you knew the scars on the outside were no match for the ones within him. They were gruesome in a way that no physical mark could amount to.
With all your thinking, he'd finally managed to get himself out of the Kevlar armour, leaving it on the floor. He stood there in his compression shirt and camo pants, no undoing his utility belt with shaky, calloused fingers, and practically throwing it onto the kitchen counter next to his helmet. He ran a hand back in his hair, then finally, his eyes landed on you.
You didn't know what to do. Even looking into his eyes was confronting now.
"You okay?" Your voice sounded foreign to your own ears, having not spoken for most of the day, or the days before today, for that matter.
He huffed a laugh, dark and fake.
"I need a shower," He says under his breath, almost a grumble. He walked past you, towards the bathroom. You can tell by the way he shut the door that he made a conscious attempt to avoid accidentally slamming it. You sighed to yourself at the mess you found yourself in.
You remembered the last time you two showered together, or tried. But it only ended in Jason's aggression getting the better of him, shoving you against a wall and telling you to stay there whilst he washed himself. The sound of the shower drowned out your sobs as he stood behind you in the cramped space.
You wondered if he actually felt bad. If he felt anything at all.
You headed to your shared bedroom, the moonlight being the only thing to light the room. This safe house was worse for wear, but it didn't matter. It was called a safe house for a reason. You pull back the covers and get in. It was particularly cold tonight, so you pulled the sheets up to your neck, bunching them in your hands and bringing them closer to your chest so as to not let any cold air in.
You closed your eyes, listening to the water in the shower.
A few minutes passed before you heard the shower turn off. There were a few moments before the bathroom door was opened, and then you heard him, his footsteps in the room. The other side of the mattress dipped under his weight, the blankets shifting over you a little as he pulled them over himself.
A while passed, backs to each other, listening to his breathing.
Then, seemingly out of nowhere, you feel him behind you. His hard chest to your back, an arm around your waist. He snuck his hand under your pyjama shirt, softly tracing circles with his calloused, slightly wonky fingers.
He didn't do this often. In fact, you can't really recall – other than the shower incident – a time when you'd been this close to him. You didn't want to ruin it, didn't want to set him off in any way. So you lay rigid. Frozen in place.
"Relax. You'll set me off if you don't," He muttered into your hair. Fingers now tracing figure eights. You could've sworn his fingers were moving marginally lower as he did, but you weren't sure. Surely not, right?
So you sighed, "Sorry, I just..." You're voice trailed off a moment, trying to figure out what to say, "This is nice."
He hummed quietly in response. You felt him lift his head a little, using the hand that was propped under his head to get the hair away from your neck, his featherlight touch making your spine tingle. He then leaned his head forward and kissed along the line of your jaw. You let out a deep breath, which was quickly shortened by the sensation of his hand on your stomach moving lower. Your muscles contracted slightly again.
"So tense," He murmurs into your neck as his hands slip under the waistband of your pyjama shorts. You go to twist your head to the side to maybe kiss him, probably just to look at him. To make sure it really was Jason Todd doing this and not some imposter. But he used the hand that wasn't under your shorts to force your head back away from him. You let out a puff of breath.
Neither of your were very experienced when it came to this kind of stuff. You'd done the usual teenage things like helping each other out with your hands, and one time you even attempted to give him a blow job, but were interrupted by Alfred. Who thankfully, knocked, but it was painfully obvious what they'd been doing.
Both of you were virgins when you last saw each other, and you'd assumed he hadn't exactly had the time to see anyone in between being tortured by the Joker and becoming Gotham's newest morally grey vigilante.
His hand was now tracing light circles over your underwear, right where you remember guiding him the first time you guys had done this. That time, he'd been majorly unsuccessful with getting you to cum, so you'd ended up just touching yourselves next to each other.
His hand then moved from that clothed sensitive spot down to the insides of your thighs. His hands reach down into the fabric of the shorts to feel the soft skin of your inner thighs, which was a vast contrast to the rough skin of his fingers.
Your breathing got a little louder as you felt his fingers slowly tracing back up your inner thighs. His lips returned to that place on your neck as he then brought his fingers to your clothed slit, running a finger against the indent in your underwear that was now slightly damp. You cringed at the thought that he could barely do anything and have you like this. He kept running his finger up and down the indented fabric over your slit before he pushed it inside, your underwear getting wetter now as he pushed his finger and the cotton fabric inside of you.
"Jesus," You sighed. His finger pumping into you as far as the fabric of your underwear would let him. You remembered a time when he'd tried this, and you realised how into it you were. Something about doing it through your underwear was so sexy.
"I knew my memory wasn't failing me,"
That's when you felt it pressing into your tailbone a little; his hard cock. He starts pressing his hips forward a little, and the friction must be doing something for him because his breaths are more audible now.
He then stops his hand, feeling the wetness of your underwear before he slips a hand underneath. His hands are cold as he starts circling your clit, slowly. So fucking slowly. You flinch a little at the temperature difference, but it's almost more stimulating. You began grounding your hips against his hand for more pressure, but he stopped a moment.
"So fucking desperate. What a slut," He said into your neck as his hips kept subtly grinding forward just above your ass. He knew you didn't like name-calling. Something inside you shrivelled at the word.
"Jason," You whispered quietly. At that, you felt his hand move downward again and abruptly shove two fingers inside. You hissed in a breath; it felt like burning. Like you were being torn open. His hands weren't overly fast, but they were just too much, "Wait, can you just–" just when you were about to ask him to take one out, he fastened the pace of his fingers, now pumping inside you aggressively. You yelped in pain, and his free hand then reached under your head to cover your mouth. You didn't like this either because it felt too restrictive. Especially with how he wasn't just doing this to quieten your noise, but his hand was covering your nose too, making it hard to breathe.
His hand then stopped a moment, and you were relieved. Until you felt his fingers trace lower.
Much fucking lower.
"Don't worry, I won't go there tonight," He sighed, as if he was disappointed. You guys had never even spoken about that before, doing ass stuff, so why was he even trying it now? The thoughts in your head quickly subsided when he went back to sliding his fingers inside you, even more aggressively and deeply than before. The lewd squelching noises were unbearable. You go to grab his wrist to slow him down, and he whispers in your ear, "Don't fucking touch me."
The tone in his voice terrifies you. It's not Jason. This was the Arkham Knight doing this to you, and you hated it. But the chances of him giving up now were slim to none.
He managed to use his thumb on your clit whilst he vigorously moved his fingers inside you. Finally, the pressure began to build. And fast. Though you didn't want to cum, not like this. This was angry and forceful. You figured after this, he'd go back to ignoring you, leaving you to feel like shit. Unless he wanted to address his own problem in his sweats.
"I need you to come," He whispers into your neck as his fingers reach a pace inside you and on your clit that you didn't think was possible. His own breathing is a little shallower, and you can tell his wrist is a little sore now as the movements in his hand become jerkier. "Come for me, you fucking bitch," He growled, he actually growled.
Your whine was muffled by his hand. You hated that name; it felt even more degrading than slut or whore. It felt dirtier in a strange way.
You then began talking into his hand, a strangled sentence, "Jason, don't fucking–"
You weren't able to finish your mumbled sentence into his hand on your mouth as your release took over your whole body. Gasping a little for air, you didn't have as your legs twitched, clamping together as he kept trying to work you through it. It's not like you even wanted to cum, it just happened, so out of nowhere.
His grip over your nose and mouth got tighter. You grabbed at his hand with yours, but he just pressed further into your face. You actually couldn't breathe now.
He finally let go, and you shot straight up. Getting out of bed, chest heaving. A few tears ran down your face.
"Why?" You whimpered, voice breaking as you looked at him, the 'J' on his cheek barely visible due to the way the moonlight cast shadows on his face. For a moment, he looked like the Jason you once knew. The happy, sarcastic boy you'd grown to love. Yes, love.
"Why, what?" He asked quietly, turning to face you. Now you could see the guilt in his eyes. He was trying to play dumb, but knew he had taken it too far. He didn't look like Jason anymore; he looked like death. The personification of the word dehumanised.
You scoffed, but it was broken, almost like a cry.
You walked out of the room and out of the apartment. That was enough for one night.
〔 NEXT CHAPTER 〕 | 📩 Hope you enjoyed. Likes and Reblogs appreciated x
꒰ SYNOPSIS ꒱ Back from the depths of hell – Arkham Asylum – Jason is getting used to being back with you, his girlfriend.
Because things are different now, you're not just teenagers falling stupidly in love. Now he hides things, memories so deeply painful he can't possibly ever revisit in them. The only way to deal with them is to kill The Bat.
But does his hatred for Batman blind him to the fact that you're becoming collateral damage?
꒰ CONTENT ꒱ Pre-Esxisting Relationship, Toxic Relationship, PTSD, Torture, Sexual Assault, Angst, Abuse, Mental Illness, Navigating a Sexual Relationship, First Time, Trust Issues | Work in Progress...
꒰ CHAPTER ONE ꒱ HONEY, I'M HOME? (2.2k) – You wait up for Jason to get home, making sure he's somewhat in-tact. But tonight, he finally crosses a line.
꒰ CHAPTER TWO ꒱ LIAR LIAR HEART ON FIRE (1.2k) – A few hours pass, and Jason finally faces what he's done. Who knew expressing your feelings would end in flames?
꒰ CHAPTER THREE ꒱ FIRST TRUTH (2.5k) – Jason opens up to you for the first time in ages. Hating the feeling of being vulnerable, the mood changes very quickly.
꒰ CHAPTER FOUR ꒱ WINDOW TO ARKHAM (2.3k) – It seems as though one small confession has led to another. Slowly, you're getting Jason to talk about the horrors he'd experienced.
꒰ CHAPTER FIVE ꒱ MORNING'S LIKE THESE (2.2k) – You wake up in his arms. It'd never felt as normal as this. You should be cautious; it surely wouldn't stay perfect for long.
– ꩜ RED HOOD: HOSTAGE . by @cinder-rxse / 〔 SERIES MASTERLIST 〕
꒰ CHAPTER THREE ꒱ MISSION: CIVIL (1.7k) – First mission out with Jason, a part of the team. You try to give him some kind words, but he doesn't respond well.
Everyone stood suited up around the round table that had appeared in the middle of the Batcave, listening to Bruce's mission debrief. You really didn't know why Bruce kept you around. You were a good soldier, sure, but everyone here was. It felt good, though. Being good.
Jason had finally agreed to a mission with you on the team. There'd already been a few, and he probably realised he'd miss out on a lot of them if he waited for you to disappear.
Bruce was talking when suddenly two figures were walking towards the group. Kory and... Donna Troy.
Great.
You and Donna never really got along. You'd always disagree or argue about how to go about dealing with the criminals and villains you fought. She was a control freak. Her way or fuck off, basically.
"No way," Dick grinned. Happy that his two favourite girls are coming on a mission.
"Boy Wonder," Donna smiled at Dick, leaning in and wrapping her arms around him. Tim's head also cocked to the side at the name, probably used to it.
"Everyone, Donna and Kory will be joining us for this mission." Bruce spoke as he gestured towards them.
Donna greeted everybody and then walked up to Jason, pulling him into a hug, "How're you feeling, big guy?" she said as she pulled away.
"I'm fine, Donna," Jason said flatly as you eyed her up and down.
She then turned to you, "Nice to see you," she practically forced out, "Thought you might've been gone for longer."
"Hi Donna," You said simply.
Throughout the entire briefing, Donna moved closer and closer to Jason. Not touching, just very close. You'd been staring the whole time. Jason even caught your eye, furrowing his brows, confused as to what you were looking at. Only then did you look away.
When everyone disbanded, you shook yourself out of your daze. You had no idea what you were supposed to do. You looked around, but literally everyone had split into small groups.
"You comin'?" You heard his voice ask, the question stirring something deep in you. Memories of his hand beneath your–
"Hello?" Jason uttered again. You looked at him.
Your eyebrows twitched, "What?"
"You, me and Donna. We're on night watch," he gestured to Donna, who gave you a stupid little wave, "Jesus, were you even–" he stopped himself to sigh, "We're going over our plan. Bruce said we have twenty minutes before we head over to Blüdhaven."
You turned your head to look over your shoulder at Bruce, who – as the best detective in the world – would've very well known how you'd felt about Donna and how Jason felt about you. You could've sworn you saw the corners of Bruce's mouth lift into a small smirk, but it was gone before you could take a picture.
Now, the three of you were standing around the round table, looking at the map. Donna had been raving about the setup of the base, and you'd completely zoned out. A quick glance at Jason told you he wasn't really listening either.
Then she changed the topic to where each of them would be positioned. Who died and made her the leader?
"I'll take the east. It's a high-risk area, and I don't want anyone exposed unless it's me." Donna said, eyeing both you and Jason.
You let out a dry laugh, "Yeah, no. That's not how this is gonna work,"
Bruce was on his way over to check in on the group's work when she spoke, "I'm sorry?"
"You don't get to pick the hardest angle just because you want to play hero. I'm better suited towards exposed positions considering my training," As you stopped talking, she turned her whole body to you, leaning a hand over the map.
"This isn't about proving yourself. This is about minimising risk, and I know what I'm talking about."
"So do I," You say in response, "Stop acting like you're the only one capable of making decisions,"
She exhaled, "Whatever personal issue you have with me needs to be squashed for the sake of the group. You think you're better equipped than me?" She rolls her eyes, actually, rolls her eyes. "I was trained by the Amazons of Themyscira. Diana herself made sure I was prepared for situations like these on crack. I don't just act – I plan. That's how you survive."
Silence. God, she was insufferable.
Should I be the bigger person here? You thought.
Yeah, absolutely the fuck not.
"...You done jerking yourself off, or should I give you a minute?"
There's a surprised scoff from Tim and a disapproving noise from Damian.
"Jason takes the east flank." Bruce breaks the tension with one sentence. You smile at the fact that she didn't get what she wanted. She glares at you, tongue in cheek.
"Who knew women twice my age would quarrel like such children?" Damian said to Tim, who was shaking his head with a grin, enjoying the drama. Dick was too busy staring at Kory to notice anything.
You looked back at Jason, "Don't be fuckin' difficult." He shook his head as he spoke. You scoffed. You? Be difficult? Jason then walked over to Dick and Kory.
Long night.
You'd finally gotten back from the mission, and fuck was it excruciating. She was excruciating. Everyone disbanded to get changed and dressed. That's when you saw her.
Barbara Gordon was sitting at the Batcomputer. Ridiculous name for an overly expensive desktop setup. You'd never really known Barbara that well. To be honest, you weren't necessarily close to anyone in the team other than Jason and, oddly enough, Selena Kyle.
"You did great out there," Barbara spoke, clearly feeling your presence behind her.
"Well, the voice in my ear made sure I didn't eat shit too badly," You smiled. She wasn't looking at you, but she chuckled to herself. Typing away, "Seriously, I don't know how you do it."
"Sometimes neither do I," She sighs, spinning around the wheels of her chair. "It's nice having you on the team. Breaks up the testosterone contest going on," she smirked.
"You could put the entirety of Themyscira on the team, and it wouldn't drown out the big dick contest those boys constantly compete in." You rolled your eyes at the thought.
She began to leave, pulling at her wheels when she stopped.
"You coming out tonight?" she asked.
You blinked, "Coming out where?"
"Dick invited everyone to the bar; he always does." Barbara exhaled a laugh that didn't reach her eyes.
A short huff left you, "Right." He hadn't mentioned it to you.
She noticed, smart girl. There was a look of understanding in her eyes, "He's just looking out for Jason."
"I figured." You shake your head at how involved he's been getting. You didn't want to fuck with Jason, but you'd like to have some friends. "You have fun, Barbara." You smiled as you began walking away.
As you were heading towards the exit to the Batcave, you spotted him. Jason is leaning against the stone wall.
"You've really improved," the words fell out of you before you could think.
"Don't," his jaw twitched. Your head lolled forward the slightest bit. Was it really cruel to even just be nice to him? Your feet carried you a few steps, and he spoke again, "You shouldn't do this again."
Your movement stopped abruptly. "You're in no position to tell me what to do."
"Yeah, actually, I am." his voice laced his venom, "These are my friends. My family,"
"They're my friends too–"
"No, they're not." Jason got off the wall, "Is your head so far up your own ass that you don't see what you're doing?" Your jaw went slack. "You don't get to have these people. You don't."
"Jason–"
"You hate me, fine. But don't show up and try to infiltrate my life when you are the one who walked away." He took a few steps closer. "I mean, what are you doing?" He continued, "What? You see me for the first time since you fucked me over, and all of a sudden, your bipolar fuckin' feelings come flooding back? Too bad."
"Bruce asked me to," You said simply. You hadn't realised you'd been walking backwards as he cornered you until your back hit the wall and he stopped, towering over you in that way he always had.
You were looking up at him, and something changed in his eyes. Did he not know that? But his hardened expression remained, "Why fuckin' agree? You knew I was going to be here."
"It's not about you. I just wanted to help out–"
"Help out?" He laughed darkly, "You aren't capable of anything other than fucking everything up." His words were cruel, but the tone in his voice said something different. He goes serious, "So, when I say you shouldn't do this again, I fuckin' mean it."
Anger rose in you at his words. Real anger, fake words. "Last time I checked, you weren't my father or my boyfriend." You let the word sit between you. Sure, it was petty, but so what? He thinks you're a selfish bitch? Time to act like one. "So you can take your opinion and fuck off with it."
He stared at you. You'd never seen him look quite like that. Something cold ran through you. This whole thing broke your heart.
You didn't want this.
"Me? Fuck off with it? That's rich," He repeated with a small, wicked smile. "Considering you quite literally fucked off when things got too real for you." He gets closer, "You think you saved me? No. You were just there." You let out an exhale, his face right in front of yours. "Any warm body would've done."
He took a few steps away, "Jason..." you spoke, defeated.
"Don't worry, I won't waste more of my opinions on you." He stopped and looked at you, "God knows I wasted enough time thinking you were anything more than a hollow shell of a woman."
You two stared at each other a moment longer. Resentment in his eyes, hatred in yours – towards yourself.
"Don't come back here." He says flatly before finally retreating back into the cave.
Back in your apartment now. It was quiet, dark. The adrenaline of the mission, of the argument, it all still ran through you as you stood still in the room. You set down your keys and your bag with your suit in it. Rubbing your eyes. What the fuck. This was all so messed up.
"You've been ignoring me,"
Your blood ran cold. The grating, all too familiar voice coming from behind you. You refused to turn around.
"Be gentle,"
You heard the voice speak again before everything went black.
📩 requests are open !
NOTES: I'm turning this into a full-length fic bc of the love you guys are giving it. BUT I have to write chapters for the pre-existing ones too (Hollow, Exodus, Mania), so bear with me. I'll probably do some fucking around with the editing of these parts, so I'll let you know when I do in case you'd like to re-read the altered versions. (sorry for making donna lowk annoying but for the point of the story i wanted to. also lowk the reader is just kinda salty for no reason lol) luh u bye
– ꩜ ARKHAM KNIGHT: HOLLOW . by @cinder-rxse / 〔 SERIES MASTERLIST 〕 〔 PREVIOUS CHAPTER 〕
꒰ CHAPTER FOUR ꒱ WINDOW TO ARKHAM (2.3k) – It seems as though one small confession has led to another. Slowly, you're getting Jason to talk about the horrors he'd experienced.
It'd been about an hour. Lying here, waiting for him. You wondered if maybe you did something wrong? But you couldn't have done anything wrong; he was obviously satisfied by the end.
Jason had numerous scars on his body. You knew that from the times he'd change shirts in the darkness of your shared room, not knowing that the moonlight accentuated every embossed, jagged line and mark. Not aware of the silent tears that fell out of your eyes at the sight. You knew the Joker had done some really fucked up things in Arkham – Barbara gave you access to an audio recording once, and you couldn't listen to it all the way through.
But what was that scar? The one in a place so deeply intimate and vulnerable to a man? What did it mean? What the fuck happened?
You felt him get under the covers, mattress dipping under his weight. Once he'd settled, you turned to face him. He was simply staring up at the ceiling.
You opened your mouth to ask something when he stopped you, "If you're going to ask if I'm okay, I'll put a bullet in my brain."
You huffed, fine.
"How're you feeling?" You said instead, knowing it was basically the same question.
He scoffed, flicking his eyes over to you, "Smartass,"
You hummed a barely-there smile. His eyes went back up to the ceiling.
"Was I... alright?" You mumbled awkwardly.
"Yeah," He raised his eyebrows when he said this, making it seem more genuine, "You were... really good."
"Then why do I get the sense that something's not right–"
"Just stop fucking prying into my life." He said, sitting up, then facing his back towards you, feet planted on the cold wood of the floor next to the bed.
"Prying into your– Are you serious?" You said in disbelief, propping yourself up on an elbow as you stared at the back of him, "Jason, I'm just making sure you were alright after–"
"I've told you not to do that."
"Told me not to what? Suck you off–"
"I've told you not to ask."
"What, so I'm not supposed to care?"
"No. You were never supposed to care,"
You were quiet for a moment before pushing your hands into the bed and sitting up properly, still under the sheets.
"Why do we always do this?" You murmur, looking towards your legs under the sheets.
He groaned at that and stood up, spinning to face you, "Because I'm not okay. Okay?" He said, eyes wide awake with anger, "I'm not fucking okay. I haven't been, for three fucking years. But that's something I have to live with, and it's not for you." He takes in a quick, sharp breath, "What happened to me in..." he started, cursing under his breath as he tried to articulate himself without being too vulnerable. "What he did to me I..." He trailed off again, "Fucks sake."
He stared at you like you were expecting something from him, like you were judging.
You smiled a sad smile, "Come back to bed."
His jaw twitched. He took a step towards the bed, then got under the covers again, back against the headboard. You decided you were too far away; you weren't going to let him shrivel into himself. Into his own self-loathing. You shifted so that one leg was on either side of his waist. He looked at you, this time completely unguarded. It was jarring. It almost made you want to look away. Because he looked so broken. You'd never seen him look like this. Never.
"He..." Jason trailed off again, searching your eyes frantically as if begging you to tell him to stop talking. He then murmured so quietly, "I don't know why this is so hard to say out loud. I think about it all the time," He said, obviously growing frustrated with himself.
"Because saying it out loud makes it real," You spoke evenly, bringing your hands to either side of his face. He sucked in a breath at the contact of your hand to the branding on his face. But this time he didn't say anything, didn't stop you. Although you might say you don't, you wanted to know what happened in there. If not all of it, just a little. You knew that was selfish, but you wanted to be close to him in a way others weren't. Wanted him to let you in, in ways he hadn't ever done with anyone else.
"Tell me something," You whispered.
"What?" He said quietly in surprise.
"One thing. Just one thing that happened."
"You don't know what you're asking–"
"I do." You said, as your fingers brushed over the 'J' on his face.
You saw him thinking for a second, going back into the memories he'd filed so far away. He was sorting through the worst ones, trying to find at least one thing that wasn't absolutely humiliating or dehumanising.
"He'd..." Jason breathed out shakily. Christ, this was sad. "He bathed me. Once."
"Pardon?" You heard come out of your mouth as your jaw went slack. He cursed himself internally. Why the fuck would he choose this story?
"Right before he shot the last video," He let out a dry chuckle at the irony of the word 'shot'. He then shut his eyes, "He'd said he..." another breath out, "He didn't want Batman to think he was mistreating his new sidekick."
"Jason–"
"He didn't... He didn't ever touch me." He blurted out, eyes opening, as if he could read your mind, "I mean, of course he touched me, but... not like that. Not really."
Dread shot throughout your body as he said – not really.
"He bathed you–"
"Yeah, but he didn't– he didn't do anything, he just sort of..." He shrugged, his face getting a little more animated. "I had a lot of open wounds. I was covered in shit and piss and blood. The psycho even cut my hair to make me more... presentable." You felt his hands come up to your bare thighs, fingers running over the skin as he stared towards them. "The fucked part is... I actually thought he was being nice. I thanked him – I always had to thank him – but I meant it." You noted that – always having to thank him. Maybe it was something Joker was insistent on (a rule?), but you wouldn't press on that. He continued, getting angrier before calming himself a little, "But I quickly realised it was just another form of torture. He scrubbed so hard that he reopened any wounds that were closed and made the fresh ones so much worse..."
You watched his face as it fixated on your thighs. He was now tracing patterns on them with his rough fingers.
"And he was singing, the whole fucking time. Like it was just some chore he had to do. Washing his bird." You moved your hands away from his face as he kept going, now on his shoulders. "And yeah, he washed me. All of me." His eyes flickered to yours, then back down at his hands on your thighs. There was silence. Just him, tracing shapes on your thighs, you looking at the way his eyebrows twitched when you could see him reliving a memory. "You said these were mine to play with, Jason. Your words," He mocked Joker's voice, face hardening.
"My God–"
"Yeah, well, when a madman has a scalpel to your balls, threatening your entire future bloodline, you'll say pretty much anything." He sighed.
You brought your hands around to the back of his neck, in shock but trying not to show it to not scare him off, "So that's what that was." His eyes caught yours again, confused, "I felt it before, a scar."
He gave you a nod, a single nod.
You hesitated, debating whether or not to ask again, but because you felt like being selfish again (which was honestly deserved after everything he'd done to you).
"So does that mean he did–"
"No, I've told you already," And you thought he meant he was done talking. Well, at least you'd got a part of him to yourself now. But he surprised you. "He just washed me very... thoroughly." His hands came up to your waist. "Something faded in me when he wrapped the cloth around me like that. It was the one place he hadn't dared to go. The one dignified part of me left, and he just–" Jason looked away from you entirely, turning his head to the left wall. "He hollowed me out, and filled me up with hate and..." He was spitting out the words as if they physically hurt to say.
You took a deep breath, bringing your hand to his chin, making him look at you. His eyes met yours, and he looked so boyish, frightened.
"I am... so sorry, Jason," You said. He shook his head at you, "No, no. You need an apology. Don't tell me not to apologise."
"You didn't do anything," He mumbled.
"Yeah, that's the problem. Isn't it?" You brought your hands up the back of his neck to play with his hair as you spoke.
"No, you weren't supposed to find me. You couldn't have," He put his hands under your shirt, skin to skin. "It was supposed to be him."
Bruce.
There was silence before you spoke again, "Thank you for that."
"For what?"
"For giving me that little part of you," You smiled, but it didn't reach your eyes.
He eyed you a moment, "What are you? My shrink?"
You chuckled, "How would you know? You'd always refused to see one."
He huffed a small smile, which made you feel like you'd won the lottery, "Ohh, so we're doing that now, are we?"
"Only if it means I get to see you smile like that," You smirked.
He stopped smiling, "Shut the fuck up. Fucking weirdo,"
You laughed and leaned forward to hug him, your chest pressed to his, your head in the crook of his neck. His hands are on your lower back.
It felt like you'd gone back to a time before all the pain. Even though this was most definitely not permanent, it'd been the first time you'd felt like he did feel something for you, except for resentment.
You stay there for what feels like half an hour before you pull back. Then he leans forward, connecting your lips in a kiss. His hands tighten on your waist as he deepens it. You know where this is going. He then uses his hands that were on your lower back to grab your hips, shifting you down onto him.
You pulled back, "You're going to injure yourself."
"I'll get over it," He crashed his lips back onto yours the minute the last word left his mouth.
His tongue was tangled with yours as he kept using the friction of your hips grinding against his to try and help himself get hard. And although it must've felt somewhat good, he wasn't getting any harder.
Now another half an hour had passed. A few clothes have been discarded – your tank top, your shorts, leaving you in your underwear. He was still pretty much fully clothed; you figured it was probably something to do with his scars.
You brought a hand to one of his hands that was forcing your hip movements, his lips on your neck.
"Honey, it's okay. We don't have to keep going," Your voice was breathless. The friction felt nice for you, but you could tell he was forcing this on himself.
"No, I want this. I really fucking want this," His voice was laced with confusion towards himself as he whispered into your neck, going back to sucking on it straight after.
"Please, don't make yourself do this," You spoke as he tried to speed up your hips. You were growing frustrated with him, "Jason,"
"Mm," He hummed into the soft skin that connected your neck to your shoulder.
"Jason, just–" You winced as he brought your hips down on his so hard it actually hurt, "Fuck. Just stop."
And he did. He pressed his forehead to your shoulder, "No, I... I want this."
"So do I," You say, "But we've only just had our first kiss in almost three years, not to mention what happened after. I think that's enough firsts for one night,"
He gives a tiny nod against your shoulder. You kiss his head, then get off his lap and walk over to the dresser. Your panties were a little damp from your own growing arousal. You took off your panties and changed into a new pair. You turn to get back into bed, and he's staring.
"I think I'm ready to go now," A ghost of a smile on his face as he eyed you up and down.
You shook your head at him and got back into bed. He shuffled down, lying on his back. You got close to him, slowly, as if approaching a wild animal.
"You're good," He said quietly. It felt like something had shifted between you two. That you'd finally got through to him that you weren't here to harm him, and he'd finally believed you.
You settled your head onto his chest, along with your hand tracing circles in between his clothed pecks.
"God, I missed this," You sighed.
"Just..." He stopped himself, "Just don't get your hopes up, okay? I'm... all over the place."
You positioned your head so you could look at him, but he was looking away. You crawled up a little, bringing his face to yours as you kissed him, soft, comforting.
You pulled back, "I'm not going anywhere,"
You placed a kiss on his cheek before going back down to lying on his chest. His breathing evened out after a while. Finally, he was getting some sleep. There was a certain level of satisfaction that came with knowing his first full night's sleep in a while was with you in his arms. But he was right. He's a mess. There's no telling what tomorrow will look like with him, and there's still so much you don't know about him.
But for now, you'd take this. Sleeping in his arms.
〔 NEXT CHAPTER 〕| 📩 Hope you enjoyed. Likes and Reblogs appreciated x
