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Pairing: Amnesiac! Jason Todd x GN Married! Reader
Summary: After a long night where his irritation had gotten the better of him yet again, Jason dropped into bed, determined to put a stop to it once and for all. So when he woke up to the greatest fucking test of his patience so far in the form of a stranger on him, it almost felt like he had asked for it.
Tags: Amnesia, Memory Loss, Established Relationship, Brief Dubcon*, Arguments, Big Misunderstandings, Unreliable Narrator
A/N: Heyy, so this was harder to write and edit than Dick and Bruceâs versions, but I think I managed. Itâs also not as cute, sorry about that. I wanted to try a different angle, and making Jason suffer is something that justâŠhappened đŹ I love him tho, I swear! Heâll recover, donât worry, it just wonât be as easy. Feel free to yell at me!
*Beware: Something like dubious consent ahead. Or SA? Idk, he consented, but now he doesnât remember doing that, so technically itâs SAâŠin a way?
Jason was in a bad fucking mood.Â
Patrol had been shitty. It hadnât started that way. He had saved a couple working girls from their creepy old pimp and set them up in one of the apartment complexes he protected so they could get a fresh start. He prevented a kid from falling into a port because of some stupid dare the kidâs older siblings gave him.
But all his open cases, an old heroin ring somehow getting back on its feet, a deranged serial killer on the loose skinning her victims, Roman Sionis hiding somewhere he couldnât find. No matter who Red Hood shook up or how late he stayed out to check every corner of his territory and beyond, Jason had been too rash, made absolutely no progress with any of it, and it tasted like failure.
Thatâs why when he finally returned to his primary safehouse with a crick in his neck, still dressed head to toe in his gear, it had been a relief to remove the hood. To remove the responsibility for just a couple hours. So much of a relief that that was just about all Jason could be bothered to take off before he barrelled through the entrance, open kitchen and bathroom to fall onto his comfortable, pillow top mattress face first and knock out with his fists clenched tight.
While it wasnât his finest moment â even he could admit that â in the privacy of his own place and small bedroom, no one had to knowâŠOr so he thought, because as Jason woke up with his face to the ceiling and a weight on his legs, he soon came to realise that while no one had to, someone did. Something was wrong.
His eyes snapped open, sensation quickly coming back to him.Â
At first glance, Jasonâs bedroom looked the same as it did when he first fell asleep. Same old magnolia ceiling, familiar slim black lamp with its square shade and cool light battling with the barely visible yellow early morning sun rays trapped behind his bedroom door. But his overflowing bookshelf was twice its usual size, there was cleaning equipment he didnât remember placing beside his table, and a duffel bag neatly packed with the largest water bottle Jason had ever seâ
Something was very, very wrong.
Jason jolted, fists clenching even tighter as he feltâ
Shit! Motherfucking shit!Â
Someoneâ yourâ fucking hole was wrapped around the tip of his cock, warm and soft and tight. You were straddling him, gently kissing his cheek and nuzzling a nose on his skin. Your right hand was holding his own, body curved into his without shame aâ Jason felt something uncontrollable begin to simmer in his chest as he desperately forced himself to not yet react to whatever absolute bullshit this was squaring up to be. Not if he wanted to know who you were and why the fuck you were here. How the fuck you were here.
It was difficult, beyond violating to be touched in any way without knowing or agreeing to it first. Jason barely tolerated physical contact when it came from people he cared about, so for someone to break in and breach his personal space and take advantage of him while he wasâ it made him sick to the stomach, green in the face. Made him feel tainted, so deeply filthy in a way that he knew no chemical would be able to cleanse him of.Â
Jason tried to shake the feeling off, to keep focused. He knew people like this, saw them all the time during patrols, during his old life on the streets, these sick fucks who took from the vulnerable with a smile. And yeah, he wasnât helpless; he could fight back. Suddenly, he wanted so badly to kill you, to wrap his hands around your neck and squeeze the life out slowly so you knew what it felt like to suffer. He knew how to, and on another day, he would. He really, truly would. Right here and now.
But he had been too rash recently, too agitated. This wasnât just some regular creep or overly talented stalker; you were inside his safehouse somehow, had broken in without a sound, entered his bed without him noticing. Jason couldnât kill you just yet; he needed to stay calm, to solve this. He could not fail again. So he met your eyes, keeping his hips beneath your weight still even as the disgust persisted and unclenched his fists.
What he saw next surprised him.Â
You lookedâŠunreal. Undeniably so. Like a gem in this rotting city shining in the dimness of his room. Like a treasure, something dug up only after following a careful trail that would lead a person to you. A prize only won when the recipient was chosen and worthy. You looked too precious for a ghost like Jason Todd, with a smile too pretty for the vile acts you were currently committing. Like nothing was wrong. It was destabilising.
You werenât from the Iceberg Lounge; he oversaw every employee and he didnât recognise that face. You couldnât be an undercover cop either. Gordon didnât allow any of his officers to mess with the bats. So then, who were you?
Had you been someone working the streets, growing numb, empty of empathy, only to be offered the paycheck of a lifetime by someone with deep pockets and the equipment to override his security? Had one of Gothamâs rogues found you? Brainwashed you to get you here as a trap, a ploy to steal his attention from something worse? Or were you an up-coming villain, someone without the mental faculties to care about the gravity of your actions?
It had to be hero-related, Jason figured as you sank down on him, squeezing him tight. Something with stakes higher than a random person spotting a man on the streets and following after him, wanting. And he doubted someone as breath-taking as you, with eyes so incredibly and impossibly soft, was the mastermind behind such an operation. He knew twisted, knew delusions, knew how it all hid and he couldnât yet see any of it in you.
Either way, as you lifted your hips, he decided that was enough patience for now, bile threatening to spill as he grabbed your fingers and dislodged you from his private parts with a wet smack on his bulletproof abdomen. That sound made Jason cringe, made him self-conscious, made him angry, because it was proof that he had been hard as a pillar inside you. That on some deep, dark level buried beneath his horror, his body had enjoyedâ
It didnât matter. It didnât matter. It didnât fucking matter!
Jason glared up at you as you sat back in his lap, trying to gauge your reaction. But you just smiled back, unabashed, and made that complete disgust morph into something else. Something more dangerous: bewilderment.
WhatâŠthe everliving fuck was going on right now?
âHey, sleepy head. Rough night? You fell asleep in your gear, thought I could make you feel better,â you told him, teasingly, like this was just another day.
Jason only stared harder, thinking as much as he could. The more he looked, the more he could not see the leering stare he expected, the underlying guilt, some level of insanity, but something truly shameless. Stealth wouldnât help when he had no idea what he was dealing with; he could barely manage to stop himself from wringing your neck, let alone pretend. Not when this didnât add up. It was bullshit. It was all bullshit.
âWho the fuck are you?â Jason stressed, noticing that, at the very least, the gun he usually left under his pillow was still beneath his head. Good.
Your cheeky smile turned crooked. âJust your dutiful cock warmer for the night.â
âNo,â Jason growled, low, his fingers tensing around yours until it was finally wiped off your face. âWho the fuck are you? A prostitute? How did you get in? What the fuck is this?â
You blinked down at him, failing to shake him off, no matter how much you shook in his hold. âHuh? Jay, baby?â
âHow did you get in?â Jason pressed relentlessly, a shiver running down his spine at the nickname. His identity was fucked, then. Whatever was left of it.
You bristled at that question, naked shoulders rising. Why exactly, he couldnât tell yet. âWhat the hell? I stayed in. And did you just call me a prostitute?â But then you took a deep breath, trying for another smile. This was driving him absolutely insane. âIs this your kink? If so, you could've let me know beforehand. For a minute thereâŠâ
And he could only gape. âWhat the fuck?â
âHey, what's up? What's wrong?â
âDonâtâ Look!â Jason shoved you off of him completely then, hand darting down beneath the pillow just in time for you to regain your balance across the bed, frustration warring with what had to be annoyance on your face at his words. It pissed him off. He was the one who had to wake up to this. He was the one who had just been violated by you. How dare you be angry when you had made him feel soâ soâ he grit his teeth into a sneer. âI don't know why you're here or how you got in, but whatever trouble you got with me, we can deal with it outside. Be more dignified âbout it.â
âDignified? I donât get it,â your frown deepened, and you gripped the sheets tight in your fists as your exposed nipples perked in the cold air. So, naturally, he whipped out his gun and trained it on your head. If you really wanted to play games, fine. He could play.Â
âUnless you're going to put up a fight in here?â Jason said, voice hard, mind racing. âWhat are you, an assassin? Did somebody send you?â
You paused, mouth falling ajar as you looked down the barrel with what looked like the purest form of disbelief. He wasnât entirely convinced, though. âJay, love. I think you should sit down.âÂ
Another nickname, his jaw ticked. âDonât tell me, did the League send you? I told them to stay the hell out of my shit.â
âWhich League?â You mumbled, seeming almost as confused as he was. âWhat are you even talking about?â
âSlade then? Now that Iâve worked with Ravager, he wants me to work with you, too?â
âDo I look like I could assassinate anyone?â You deadpanned.
âStill playing dumb, huh?â Jason snorted, hands shifting on the holster as he mimed pulling the trigger. He tried not to feel anything when you flinched like a baby, something like betrayal twisting your features as you sat pretty and bare on his sheets. And he could be convinced he was in purgatory had he not already known what that was like, the taste of soil in his mouth. âDid you really think I was gonna believe that act when you broke into my safe house, found out my identity and sat on my dick?â Drop it now, unless you want this to end badly for you.â
âJasonâŠâ You thickly swallowed, still staring down the barrel. âI don't know if you're going to believe me or not, but you sound hysterical. I think you need to sit down. Please.âÂ
âPlease,â huh? âWell, it looks like you still got your manners,â Jason lowly admitted to himself, then stood up, yanking on a pair of boxers with the barrel trained right on you. Out of reach. For the first time in years, he didnât know what to do. âLookâŠjust tell me what you want. My patience is already running fucking thin.â
You raised your hands in surrender, gaze stationary. âI want you to sit down with me so we can talk, because I think something's veryâŠvery wrong.â
âYeah, you,â Jason snarled. âIn my house.â
âStop calling me that, we're not close,â he cut in, unforgiving.
You bitterly laughed, then ran a tired hand down your face like he was the problem. âI know this might seem hard to believe, but we're married. So we are kind of fucking close, Jason.â
And that made Jason laugh out loud. It made him laugh and laugh and laugh, unable to help himself at the absolutely fantastical story you were now spinning. Occam's razor was one thing, but this? âThat's funny.â
Except you simply dropped your hands, and finally, your sharp eyes rose from the gun to meet his. âDoes it look like I'm joking?â
Of two competing theories, the simpler explanation of an entity is to be preferred.
Jason struggled to tamp down his laughter enough to look at you, but when he did, what he saw made him pause. Because youâŠyou did look serious right now. Like completely, insanely serious. As though you believed every word you were saying, and that wasnât right. It was impossible. You had infiltrated his safehouse, and he would have to kill you now if you didnât tell him the real truth, he wanted to, exceptâŠyou were.
âYou're insane thenâŠâ
Jasonâs breath picked up a little.Â
It was a dumb idea, but while a lot stayed the same, his roomâs layout was different, the furniture, the smell. The longer he looked around, the less it felt like a safehouse bedroom. The more it felt like a home, likeâŠthe manor. It was unusual, but as he studied his own hands, steadily pointing his gun at you, he noticed an indent on the fourth finger of his left hand. It was faint and thin, and he could not recall ever seeing it before now. Not once.
âNo, no,â Jasonâs brows furrowed.Â
It was crazy, but his instincts were telling him you werenât lying, that you were the one who might be in the right. This was only cemented when you brought your left hand up in surrender, and he saw it. Your ring. A gorgeous silver band with a glimmering ruby heavy at the top.
Jason liked it; he knew he would buy it, and that settled things.
It was the only thing that made sense.Â
He was not going to fail again.
Jason dropped the gun onto the bed.
âI'm insane then. Great.â
âYesââ You didnât hesitate, and Jason actually laughed so hard that he almost cried. Priceless. Justâ âI mean. No, you're notâŠinsane. But I think you might have a little memory loss.â
âMaybe,â Jason didnât trust you, even assuming you were right. Not after everything that had just happened to him, how he feltâŠHe didnât want you to touch him until he knew for sure that you were who you claimed. âBut why should I believe your story?â
You just crossed your arms, staring up at him, fierce with uncertainty. âExcept for the really obvious fact that I'm in your house, know your name, know your secret identity and have a ring on my finger that has your initials engraved on the inside? Check your body in the bathroom. There are scars that you probably aren't familiar with, and also, your ring is on your bedside table. You leave it there before every patrol.â
So he did. Jason followed your instructions and his own protocols. He checked himself out in his bathroom, wiped the sensation of you off his body over and over again, searched online, checked bank accounts, popped outside, and it was all so different; the date being years ahead on his new phone was believable.Â
âIt's legit,â Jason breathed a couple of minutes later. Somehow, he had tricked the cutest person he had ever seen into marrying him, and then he woke up, ripped you off your husbandâs dick and put a gun to your head.
Sometimes he wondered why he even tried.
Jason wanted to laugh again.
âWhat the fuck?â He sat calmly in the bathtub justâŠprocessing the new information, the fact that he would now need medical attention, because if he didnât remember so much of his life, what else had changed? His cases, his friends, his family? He needed to contact them, but later. Later, onceâ he just needed to come to terms withâ
âJay, baby?â You called, knocking on the locked bathroom door.Â
âWhy would anyone ever date me?â Jason asked low from the bathtub.
âHey, youâre alright,â you replied immediately, fond.Â
âEnough toâŠmarry?â He honestly couldnât believe it.Â
âYes,â you said, fiddling with the door handle now, and he buried his head in his lap. This was a complete fucking mess. âWeâre happy.â
âThen why was I not wearing my ring?â He snapped.Â
âYouâŠâ Jason jolted when he felt your hand resting gently on his back and grimaced when you easily removed it. Understanding. Way too understanding. He was your husband, dammit. Husband. He was married. He couldnât treat you like thisâ He had justâ âYou once told me that you didn't want to get it dirty or lost when patrolling, so you usually leave it at home every night. Before.â
Jason closed his eyes and curled up in his big body some more. âGod. IâŠâ
You laughed a little, voice softer than he had heard it yet. Sweeter than candy. âDon't apologise, it's fine. I understand. It could be worse. ThatâŠthat must have been scary. Iâm sorry.â
He swallowed, thickly. âI need to get in contact with my people.â
âOK, Iâll leave you to it then,â you said simply, smiling. âI believe in you, you'll fix this, Jay, I know you can. Imma head to another safehouse, give you space. I know how you are.â
Jason was unbearably uncomfortable, and you knew it. You adjusted to him. God, he barely knew you, and already he could tell, âI don't deserve you.â
You instantly scoffed, crossing your arms. âYou don't even know me.â
âI don't need to know more than what I know right now to know that.â
The silence was heavy as you stared down at him. Then.Â
âWe all deserve more than we get, Jason.â
But no. No. Some people, âThat'sââ
âIt's the truth,â you cut in, not unkind. âI try and so do you, and it's enough.â
His heart skipped a fucking beat.Â
The silence returned, but it was calmer this time as he absorbed your words, looking up at you in a new light. Because, âI can see why I married you.â
You barked a shy laugh, left him to it without any more fanfare, and Jason knew even if he tried and failed to remember you, he would work through his feelings and fall just the same.
A/N: Thanks for reading! I wasnât sure about whether I wanted his identity to be public knowledge or not in this au, so I left it ambiguous. Itâs just a short fic, so đ€· Hope you liked it anyway~
