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celestemere · 23 days ago

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Girly really did her big one with this cause why the heck was my heart beating so hard?? Like we need the movie NEOW

The Secret of Us III.

Warnings: Angst, major hurt, betrayal, language, mentions of organised crime, mentions of cancer.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist Summary: “I know the gala must’ve been hard for you, and I.. just, I am so glad you trust me on this entire things, but I haven’t exactly been completely honest.” you told him, and his blood ran cold, were you about to admit to him that you knew everything about your father’s business and had been helping him for years? Was he played? Did he fall in love with the wrong person?

A/N: Guys I think i am in love with this chapter, jason's pov + batfam + roy harper, i wrote this chapter so passionately, what do i even say, (although i am supposed to be working on my freelance thing but it;s okay, we hustle), would love to hear what you think, likes, comments feedback and reblogs are always appreciated <3 Word Count: 6500 approx Pairing: Jason Todd x chubby!reader

Jason sat on the chair behind the computer as he watched Tim work on the videos and facially match all of the people that had been at your father’s mansion for your gala.

Bruce had asked Tim to compile a list of all the people, as well as have transcripts of all conversations that Jason’s camera and microphone had recorded, and Tim, like the good son he was, worked meticulously on the process.

He was told that Tim would be done by the time he came to visit, but alas, that hadn’t been the case and Jason had to wait for another half hour as Tim worked on the files.

“How much longer?” Jason gruffed out, and Tim let out a huff, “Ten more minutes.”

Jason sighed and leaned his head back against the chair as he closed his eyes, his mind drifting over to you.

Six months ago, all of them had started to work on dismantling the Castillo crime family. Initially, they’d thought it included just the father and son, but after overhearing some people talk over on the East End during patrol, Dick had discovered that Robert had a daughter.

The Castillo crime family had been one of the major reasons of the state of the East End, money laundering, drug trafficking, arms dealing were some of the big ones that came to mind. Most of the people who lived on the East End, were either directly involved or affected by these things, which made matters complicated. They couldn’t destroy an entire section of the city, and they couldn’t put everyone in jail either, so they had to carefully work on the matter, so that the East End could continue it’s functionings in a way that would put James and Robert Castillo behind bars, including all those who were loyal to the two.

So, they devised a plan, the daughter seemed distant from the entire affair but Bruce believed that she might know some things that were of importance that may be able to help them, maybe name a couple of things, but they couldn’t exactly torture it out of her, nor could they just ask her.

So, it was decided that Jason would approach her, since he was the closest in age, maybe try to ask her out and she might let something slip that they could use.

It was never supposed to go on for this long.

Jason followed you for three days before he approached you.

You were.. Interesting. You kept to yourself, you seemed to be kind, you tapped away on your laptop for hours, drank loads of coffee, and visited a lot of thrift stores… and that was mostly it.

He didn’t think you were some evil mastermind, but he did suspect that you probably helped your father and brother in the administration department, that to keep you safe, maybe your family had sent you away from them.. in a ‘She’ll be safe away from us.’ type of way.

So, he approached you at the coffee shop, and that was where the slippery slope had begun. The moment he went back home from the coffee shop, there was a nagging feeling at the back of his mind that you were really kept away from a lot of it, but his line of work had him making sure of everything.

He needed to gain your trust before he asked any questions, and that would take more than just one date.

He decided to dress up, and then he bought you flowers, tulips and orchids, because roses were boring, and he did want to seem genuinely interested.

Which was a good thing because as soon as he showed up to your doorstep and you opened the door, he could feel his blood rush to the lower part of his body as his jaw slacked,

“Oh, fuck.” his mouth let out before his brain could catch up, and by some miracle you hadn’t thought he was a creep and let him take you out.

The ride to the restaurant had been easy, he was in his natural habitat on his bike, something about riding it came naturally to him, and the feel of your arms pressed against his body, felt comforting. It probably shouldn’t have, for all he knew, you could be way more involved in your family business than any of them had initially thought, but you didn’t seem like the type of person who was.

When you reached the restaurant and he sat down across carefully eyeing all of the exits just in case, he realised you’d been staring. He murmured a quick excuse and his hand made its way to the menu, this had been one of his favourite restaurants in the city, and he usually ordered either of the two things, since he genuinely couldn’t decide, he’d asked you to share.

The ‘date’ had gone well, he enjoyed talking to you, it’s not like you were boring, you spoke quite a bit, especially since you’d let lose a little cause of the wine, and you did look absolutely beautiful as he sat across from you, and you were funny, you genuinely managed to pull out a genuine laugh out of him at a moment or two, and maybe in his head he had to remind himself once or twice that this wasn’t an actual date and that he was here for information gathering purposes only.

Then you stepped outside and he gave you his jacket, even though you had resisted at first, you had ended up accepting it, and the sight of you in his jacket stirred something in his chest that he hadn’t felt in ages, and he tried to suppress it as hard as he could.

But then you’d kissed him, and he felt the warmth in his chest getting warmer, and your lips felt so soft, and your curves felt perfect against him, and he couldn’t resist pulling you back in for another kiss.

He'd gone to the manor that night with your taste still on his lips and absolutely no useful intelligence to report.

"She seems genuinely removed from the family business," he'd told Bruce during his debrief. "Uses her mother's maiden name, claims she rarely sees her father, works a legitimate job."

"Or that's what she wants you to think," Dick had pointed out from where he was working on his Nightwing suit. "Crime families are good at keeping their clean members looking clean."

"Maybe," Jason had agreed, but something in his gut told him you weren't acting.

The dates had continued. Coffee shop meetings, movie nights at your place, long walks through Gotham's safer neighborhoods. Each time, Jason told himself he was working, building trust, gathering intelligence. But increasingly, he found himself forgetting about the mission entirely.

Like the night you'd cooked for him for the first time. You'd been nervous, apologizing for the simple pasta dish like he was expecting some elaborate meal. But you'd lit candles, put on soft music, and the whole evening had felt so domestic, so normal, that Jason had found himself imagining what it would be like if this was real.

"Tell me about your family," he'd said over dinner, trying to steer the conversation toward useful territory.

Your face had closed off slightly. "Not much to tell. My dad's in business on the East End. Real estate, mostly. My brother James helps him out."

It was the closest you'd come to admitting anything, and Jason had reported it dutifully to Bruce. But he'd also noticed the genuine discomfort in your voice, the way your shoulders had tensed when discussing your father.

Then there was the night he'd invited you to his place for a movie. You'd chosen Gone Girl, curled up next to him on the couch, and somehow the movie had been forgotten entirely. The weight of you in his lap, your hands tangled in his hair, the soft sounds you'd made when he'd kissed your neck, it had all felt too real.

Jason’s mind was racing as he thought of Bruce’s words, that he needed to gain more of your trust, she wouldn’t trust easy, but she would trust, and he had to grow closer and the only way he could do that was —

“Be with me.” he had whispered against your lips, and the grin on your face had him questioning his loyalties.

“I am with you.” You’d whispered back with a teasing smirk, and he shook his head to rid himself of the thoughts of you and how soft you felt and focus on the mission, “No, I mean officially, be mine.”

And when you’d agreed? He felt like the luckiest man, that an amazing girl like you deemed him worthy, you didn’t have to know it was a lie, and then maybe he could pretend that this was something real too.

He'd carried you to his bedroom that night, and when you'd whispered, "You mind if we keep the lights turned off?" he'd seen a vulnerability in you that had nothing to do with crime families or undercover operations. You'd been nervous, self-conscious, and he'd spent the entire night showing you how beautiful you were, how much he wanted you.

Lying in bed afterward, your head on his chest, your finger tracing patterns on his skin, Jason had felt something he hadn't experienced in years: peace. Like this was where he belonged, like this was home.

"I should probably head home," you'd murmured against his chest.

"Stay," he'd said without thinking, and when you'd looked up at him with those soft, trusting eyes, he'd felt his resolve crumble completely.

The pillow talk had been dangerous territory. You'd mentioned your brother James, how he'd helped you get away from the East End. You'd talked about your father in vague terms, admitting that he wasn't "the most righteous person" but that you tried to keep your distance.

Jason had filed it all away for his reports, but increasingly, he found himself editing those reports. Leaving out the vulnerability in your voice when you talked about your family. Downplaying how genuinely removed you seemed from their operations. Omitting entirely how you'd traced the scars on his chest and asked no questions, just accepted them as part of who he was.

The morning after, when you'd told him you were having breakfast with James, Jason had felt a spike of professional interest. But watching you get ready, seeing how happy you looked, how normal this all felt—it had been getting harder to remember that you were supposed to be a target.

He'd followed you to the café where you'd met your brother, positioning himself at a nearby table where he could observe and record. What he'd seen was a protective older brother worried about his sister's safety, and a woman who clearly trusted him completely. The conversation had been mostly innocuous, talk about your new relationship, until some business deal that Bruce had told him was happening with the Ramirez family, and he realised that you were not as removed as you made yourself out to be, but then the conversation shifted again.

"Are you okay? There?" you'd asked James, and there had been genuine concern in your voice.

"As okay as I can be," James had replied, looking exhausted. "I swear, sometimes the only thing that keeps me going is that I could get you out."

Jason had reported the conversation, but he'd found himself wondering what exactly James was protecting you from, your own father? Surely not.

The weeks had turned into months, and Jason had settled into a routine that felt dangerously like a real relationship. Coffee dates, movie nights, long conversations about everything and nothing. He'd integrated himself into your life so seamlessly that you'd started keeping a coffee maker at your place just because he preferred it to your usual vanilla lattes.

And the sex—fuck, the sex had been a revelation. You were passionate and giving and so responsive to his touch that he'd found himself addicted to the sounds you made, the way your body arched beneath his, the way you'd whisper his name like a prayer.

But it was the quiet moments that had really done him in. You falling asleep in his arms after a long day. The way you'd light up when he walked into a room. How you'd bring him coffee in the morning and kiss his forehead like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And then you'd mentioned the gala with such obvious dread and you trusted him with your family and so Jason had volunteered to go with you. He'd told himself it was for the mission. A chance to observe the Castillo operation firsthand, to record conversations and identify key players.

But watching you get ready that night, seeing how nervous you were, how much you hated having to go back into that world—Jason had realized his primary motivation wasn't gathering intelligence. It was protecting you from the handsy associates and uncomfortable situations you'd warned him about.

The gala itself had been a goldmine of information. Jason's hidden camera and microphone had recorded dozens of conversations, captured faces of known criminals, documented what appeared to be a significant criminal operation in transition. James talking about territory with the Ramirez family, discussions of construction projects and timelines, references to shipments and preparations.

But Jason had also seen things that didn't fit the narrative. The way James looked exhausted rather than power-hungry. How your father had seemed almost... sad when he'd pulled you and James aside for that private conversation. The genuine affection between the three of you, despite the obvious tension.

And he'd seen how much you'd hated every minute of it. How you'd tensed up whenever one of your father's associates approached. How grateful you'd looked every time Jason had deflected an uncomfortable conversation or unwanted attention.

When you'd finally gotten home that night, you'd melted into his arms like he was your safe harbor. And lying in bed afterward, your body warm and soft against his, Jason had realized with crystalline clarity that he was completely, utterly fucked.

He was in love with you. Not your cover story, not your potential usefulness as an asset—you. The woman who made terrible coffee and watched cooking shows while working. Who hummed unconsciously when she was happy. Who looked at him like he was the best thing that had ever happened to her.

"Jason?" Tim's voice snapped him back to the present.

Jason looked up to see Dick and Damian entering the cave, followed by Bruce. Apparently, this was going to be a full family debrief.

"Perfect timing," Bruce said, his voice carrying that tone that meant business. "Tim, are the files ready?"

"Just finished compiling everything," Tim replied, pulling up displays on the main computer. "Facial recognition matches, conversation transcripts, financial connections—we've got enough evidence to dismantle the entire Castillo operation."

Dick whistled low as he scanned the data. "This is comprehensive. Jason, you really outdid yourself."

"Indeed," Damian added with grudging approval. "For once, Todd's methods have proven effective."

Jason felt sick. Months of lying, months of building trust and intimacy, months of falling deeper in love with every smile, every laugh, every soft morning whisper, and his family was congratulating him on a job well done.

"What's our timeline looking like?" Dick asked, settling into a chair.

"We can move within the week," Bruce replied, studying the evidence on screen. "Maybe sooner if Gordon can fast-track the warrant applications."

"What about the daughter?" Damian asked bluntly. "Is she complicit or merely naive?"

All eyes turned to Jason, and he felt the weight of their expectation. His family was counting on his assessment. Months of investigation, months of careful planning, and it all came down to his professional judgment about whether you were innocent or guilty.

"She's..." Jason started, then stopped. How could he explain that you were completely innocent without revealing how deeply he'd compromised himself? How could he tell them that you actively tried to distance yourself from your family's business, that you used your mother's name to avoid association with your father's crimes, that the thought of their world made you physically uncomfortable?

"She's been kept largely separate from the operations," he finally said. "But she knows some things."

It wasn't exactly a lie, but it wasn't the whole truth either. You did know things—you knew your father wasn't a good man, you knew some stuff about the dealings that Jason wasn’t able to get out of you yet, you knew your brother was carrying burdens he shouldn't have to carry, knew that staying away from the family business was the only way to live with yourself.

But you didn’t want to know anything. You were just a daughter trying to love a father she couldn't respect and protect a brother who was sacrificing everything for her safety.

"The question is whether she'll cooperate," Bruce mused, scrolling through transcripts of Jason's recorded conversations with you. "Or if she'll try to warn them."

"She won't warn them," Jason said with more certainty than he should have shown. "She hates that world.”

Dick gave him a sharp look. "You sound pretty confident about that."

"I've spent months building rapport with her," Jason replied, trying to keep his voice steady. "She's not loyal to the family business. If anything, she resents it."

"Resentment doesn't mean she won't try to protect her father and brother," Bruce pointed out. "Family loyalty runs deep, especially in organizations like this."

Jason's phone buzzed with another text from you:

Hey baby, I'm making dinner tonight if you want to come over. Nothing fancy, just pasta and wine and maybe some terrible reality TV? What do you say? ❤️

The casual domesticity of the message, sent while his family discussed dismantling your life, made Jason want to put his fist through something.

"So what's the extraction plan?" Dick asked.

"Extraction?" Jason repeated.

"For you," Tim clarified. "You can't exactly keep dating Robert Castillo's daughter after we arrest him and his son. You'll need a cover story for the breakup, something that doesn't blow your identity."

The words hit Jason like a physical blow. Of course. Of course they expected him to just... disappear from your life once the mission was over. Ghost the woman who'd become the best part of his day, who'd shown him what it felt like to be wanted for himself rather than his usefulness to the mission.

"I haven't really thought about it," Jason lied.

"Well, you should start," Bruce said, his tone matter-of-fact. "The closer we get to moving on the Castillos, the more dangerous it becomes for you to maintain the relationship. If she figures out who you really are, she could warn them."

"She won't figure it out," Jason said, then caught himself. "I mean, there's no reason for her to be suspicious. As far as she knows, I'm just her boyfriend who works in security consulting."

"Still," Bruce continued, "it would be prudent to start creating some distance. Maybe become less available, less responsive. Give her reasons to doubt the relationship so the eventual end seems natural rather than sudden."

The suggestion made Jason's stomach turn. Start pulling away from you now, when you trusted him completely. Make you doubt yourself, doubt his feelings, doubt the one good thing in your life, all so his eventual betrayal would be easier to stomach.

"Actually," Tim said, pulling up another screen, "we might want to consider a different approach. What if instead of extracting Jason, we use the relationship to our advantage during the takedown?"

"Explain," Bruce said.

"Well, if she's as removed from the operations as Jason believes, she might be willing to cooperate in exchange for a deal. Testify against her father and brother in exchange for immunity. And having Jason there as a familiar face might make her more cooperative."

"You want to use me to manipulate her into betraying her family?" Jason asked, his voice dangerously low.

"I want to use every asset at our disposal to ensure justice is served," Bruce replied coolly. "If that includes leveraging your relationship with her, then yes."

Jason stared at his family, at the people he'd bled with, fought alongside, considered the most important relationships in his life, and realized they saw you as nothing more than a means to an end. A tool to be used and discarded in service of their mission.

And the worst part was, they expected him to be okay with it.

"She's not going to cooperate," Jason said finally. "Whatever she knows or doesn't know, she's not going to testify against her family. She might hate the business, but she loves them."

"Then we'll have to work around her," Bruce concluded. "Tim, make sure we have enough evidence to proceed without her cooperation. Dick, I want you coordinating with Gordon on the logistics. Damian, you'll be on surveillance to make sure none of them try to run."

"And Jason?" Dick asked.

Bruce looked at him with those calculating eyes that missed nothing. "Jason will maintain his cover until we're ready to move. Keep the relationship stable, don't arouse suspicion, and extract whatever final intelligence he can."

Jason nodded, not trusting his voice. His phone buzzed again:

Can you get Ice cream too? That mint chocolate chip stuff you got last time. Can't wait to see you.

But as his family continued planning the destruction of your world, Jason stared at your text message and made a decision that would have terrified Bruce if he'd known about it.

He was going to dinner tonight. He was going to look you in the eye and tell you he loved you, really loved you, not as part of some elaborate cover, but because you'd become the most important thing in his world.

And then he was going to figure out how to save you from what was coming, even if it meant betraying everything he'd been taught about being a Bat.

Your latest text arrived just as Bruce was dismissing the meeting:

Also, I have something I want to talk to you about tonight. Something important. See you soon.

Jason stared at the message, his blood running cold. Something important. Something you wanted to discuss privately, over dinner and wine.

Either you were finally ready to trust him with your family's secrets, or you'd somehow figured out exactly who he was.

Either way, tonight was going to change everything.

And for the first time since he'd started this mission, Jason realized he was more afraid of losing you than he was of failing Bruce.

Jason sat in his car outside your apartment building for twenty minutes, staring up at your lit windows and trying to figure out what the hell he was going to say to you.

The mint chocolate chip ice cream he'd picked up was probably melting in the passenger seat, but he couldn't bring himself to move. Every scenario he'd run through in his head ended the same way—with you looking at him like he was a stranger, like everything you'd shared had been a lie.

Which, technically, it had been. At least on his end.

His phone had been buzzing periodically with texts from you:

Are you close? Wine is breathing and I'm getting hangry

Okay now I'm actually worried. Everything okay?

Jason? Please just let me know you're safe

That last one, sent five minutes ago, made his chest tight. Even when he was late, even when he wasn't responding, your first concern was his safety. Not that he was blowing you off or losing interest, but that something might have happened to him.

When had someone last cared about his well-being without any ulterior motive?

He picked up his phone and dialed the number who he knew cared a little more about him than the mission and waited until the voice on the other end answered,

“Hello?” Roy’s voice sounded out through his phone and he had to take a deep breath.

“Dude, are you dying or something?” Roy’s voice sounded out once again, and he could hear the shuffle in the background that told him that he was probably at his house.

"Roy," Jason said, his voice rougher than he intended.

"Well, well. Jason Todd actually using the phone like a normal person instead of showing up at my window at 3 AM bleeding all over my couch. What's the occasion?"

Despite everything, Jason found himself almost smiling. "Can't a guy just call his best friend?"

"A guy can. You don't." Roy's tone shifted, becoming more serious. "What's going on, man? You sound like shit."

Jason stared up at your apartment again, watching your silhouette move past the window. "I fucked up, Roy. Really fucked up."

"Okay, scale of one to ten, how bad are we talking? Like, 'forgot to file a report' fucked up or 'accidentally started an international incident' fucked up?"

"More like 'fell in love with my mark and now I have to choose between my family and the woman who makes me want to be better' fucked up."

The silence on the other end of the line stretched long enough that Jason wondered if the call had dropped.

"Roy?"

"Jesus Christ, Jason." Roy's voice was quiet now, understanding. "The Castillo thing?"

"Yeah."

"How long?"

"Months. Six months of lying to her, six months of pretending this was all just a job, six months of falling deeper into something that was supposed to be fake." Jason ran his free hand through his hair. "And now Bruce wants me to use her to get to her family, or ghost her entirely, and I—"

"You love her."

"I love her," Jason admitted, the words feeling both like a relief and a confession. "I love how she makes terrible coffee and sings off-key in the shower. I love that she gets excited about finding vintage sweaters at thrift stores. I love that she looks at me like I'm worth something, like I'm not just the fuck-up Robin who died and came back wrong."

"Jason..."

"She texted me about picking up ice cream, Roy. Mint chocolate chip. And I know exactly which brand she likes and how she eats it straight from the container when she's stressed. I know she keeps her apartment too cold because she likes being under blankets, and I know she has nightmares about her father sometimes even though she won't admit it."

Jason's voice cracked slightly. "I know all these things about her, all these little intimate details, and she doesn't know a single true thing about me."

"That's not true."

"Isn't it? My name, my job, how we met, why I'm with her—it's all lies, Roy."

"But how you feel about her isn't a lie. How you treat her isn't a lie." Roy's voice was firm. "Look, I've seen you with targets before. I've seen you work marks and extract information and disappear without a backward glance. This isn't that."

Jason closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the headrest. "Bruce expects me to maintain cover until they're ready to move. Keep extracting information, keep her stable and unsuspicious. And then either use her against her family or disappear from her life entirely."

"What do you expect you to do?"

The question caught Jason off guard. Not what did Bruce expect, not what did the mission require, but what did he expect of himself.

"I don't know," he admitted. "I've never been in this situation before."

"Bullshit. You have a moral compass, Jason, even if you pretend you don't. What does your gut tell you?"

Jason looked up at your window again. You were in the kitchen now, probably finishing dinner, probably checking your phone every few minutes and trying not to worry.

"My gut tells me she's innocent. That she's been kept away from the worst of her family's business specifically because she's a good person who wouldn't be able to live with herself if she knew the full extent of what they do."

"And?"

"And my gut tells me that she's going to be collateral damage in whatever takedown Bruce is planning, unless someone protects her."

"Someone like her boyfriend who's actually an undercover vigilante?"

"Someone like that, yeah."

Roy was quiet for a moment. "You know what you have to do."

"Do I?"

"You have to tell her the truth."

The words hit Jason like a physical blow. "Roy, I can't—"

"Not everything. Not the family business, not Batman's identity, not operational details. But you need to tell her who you are and why you're really there. Because right now, you're in love with someone who doesn't actually know you exist."

"She'll hate me."

"Maybe. Probably, at first. But Jason, man, if you love her as much as you say you do, don't you think she deserves the chance to love the real you back?"

Jason stared at his reflection in the car window. Red Hood. Robin. Bruce Wayne's son. Vigilante. Killer. All the identities he wore like armor, all the ways he'd learned to be useful to people.

But with you, for the first time in his life, he'd just been Jason. Not perfectly, not completely honestly, but more genuinely than he'd ever been with anyone else.

"What if telling her the truth puts her in more danger?"

"What if not telling her puts her in more danger?" Roy countered. "Look, Bruce's plan sounds like it ends with her entire family in prison and her left to pick up the pieces alone. At least if she knows the truth, she can make informed choices about how to protect herself."

Jason's phone buzzed with another text from you: Okay, I'm officially starting to panic. If you don't respond in the next ten minutes, I'm calling hospitals.

"I have to go," Jason said. "She's waiting for me."

"Jason." Roy's voice was serious now. "Whatever you decide to do, I've got your back. If you need somewhere safe to take her, if you need backup, if you need someone to help you disappear entirely—I'm here."

The offer meant more than Jason could put into words. "Thank you."

"Just... don't let Bruce manipulate you into destroying something real, okay? You've been through enough. You deserve to be happy."

Jason ended the call and sat in the silence of his car for another moment, Roy's words echoing in his head. You deserve to be happy.

When had he stopped believing that?

He grabbed the ice cream and finally got out of the car, muscle memory carrying him through the familiar routine of entering your building, riding the elevator to your floor, using the key you'd given him three months ago.

The apartment smelled like garlic and wine and something else—something that had become home to him over the past six months. You appeared in the kitchen doorway the moment he walked in, relief clear on your face.

"There you are," you said, crossing to him quickly. "I was starting to think you'd been kidnapped or something."

You kissed him hello, soft and warm and trusting, and Jason felt something break inside his chest.

"Sorry," he managed. "Got caught up with something."

You studied his face with those perceptive eyes he'd fallen in love with. "Everything okay? You look..."

"Tired," he finished. "Long day."

You accepted the explanation with a small nod, but he could see you filing away his mood for later consideration. You'd always been good at reading him, even when he thought he was hiding things well.

"Well, dinner's ready. And I opened that bottle of wine you brought last week." You took his hand, leading him toward the kitchen. "Plus I have something I want to talk to you about."

Jason's stomach clenched. "Yeah, you mentioned that in your text."

You served dinner—pasta with homemade sauce that smelled incredible, a simple salad, the kind of meal that felt like an act of love in its very ordinariness. You poured wine and chattered about your day, but Jason could sense the nervous energy underneath your casual demeanor.

Whatever you wanted to discuss, it was big.

They ate mostly in comfortable silence, the kind they'd developed over months of shared meals. But Jason found himself memorizing everything—the way you twirled pasta around your fork, how you hummed contentedly when you tasted something good, the little crease between your eyebrows when you were thinking.

If this was going to be one of their last normal evenings together, he wanted to remember all of it.

"So," you said finally, setting down your fork and reaching for your wine. "I need to tell you something."

Jason's heart stopped. "Okay."

You took a deep breath, looking nervous in a way he rarely saw. "I've been thinking a lot about us lately. About where we're heading, about what I want."

Here it comes, Jason thought. She knows. Somehow, she figured it out.

"And I realized that I'm in love with you," you continued, your cheeks flushing slightly. "Really in love with you, in a way I didn't think I was capable of. You make me feel safe and seen and just... happy in a way I've never experienced before."

The words hit Jason like a sucker punch. Not suspicion, not accusations, not demands for truth. Just love. Open, honest, vulnerable love.

Jason stared at you across the small table, this incredible woman who'd just handed him her heart without reservation, and felt the full weight of his deception settle on his shoulders like a physical thing.

"I know it might be too soon to say that," you continued, misreading his stunned silence. "And I don't need you to say it back if you're not ready. I just... I wanted you to know how I feel —"

"I love you, too." he interrupted, his voice soft.

Your face lit up at his words, and you stared at him like he’d given you everything in life that you’d ever wanted, and that broke his heart more than anything else ever could.

He grasped your hands across the table and he pulled you towards him, and you settled on his lap with an ease that came from close comfort.

He pulled your head towards his, your lips connected and he felt like you were transferring oxygen in his lungs and he could breath again, you pulled away too quick, and started, “There is something else, too.” you murmured softly.

Jason’s mind started to race, and before he could contemplate anymore, “It’s about my family.” you said, and his heartbeat started to pick, and you mistook his silence for distance, and quickly started to explain.

“I know the gala must’ve been hard for you, and I.. just, I am so glad you trust me on this entire things, but I haven’t exactly been completely honest.” you told him, and his blood ran cold, were you about to admit to him that you knew everything about your father’s business and had been helping him for years? Was he played? Did he fall in love with the wrong person?

“I.. my father’s dying.” You told him, and he felt his heart stop.

“What?” he asked, his voice depicting the confusion he felt.

“He has a month left, maybe less, that was why the gala was important to him, it was sort of a goodbye thing. I didn’t want to involve you anymore than you had to be, but you’re sitting here telling me you love me, and I just, I can’t lie to you anymore.”

Jason felt bile rise up his throat at your words, the irony wasn’t lost on him, you had been more honest to him over your entire relationship than he’d ever been, and you sat in front of him feeling guilty.

Roy’s words rang in his head combining with yours, “There’s more.” you continued, and bit your lip in nervousness.

Out of habit, his hand reached out to pull it out from between your teeth, and that gesture must’ve given you some confidence because you continued, “James and I, we’ve been trying to turn the entire business legitimate.”

“Legitimate how?”

"James will officially inherit everything. But we have a plan." Your voice grew stronger, more determined. "We're going to change things. All those properties Dad uses for money laundering? The clubs, the warehouses, the construction projects? We're going to convert them into something good."

Jason's blood went cold. "What kind of something good?"

"Schools, mostly. Community centers. Places where kids from the East End can go to learn and be safe instead of getting pulled into gangs or drugs." Your eyes were bright with passion now. "That construction project everyone was talking about at the gala? It's going to be an elementary school with free meals and after-school programs. The old warehouse on Fifth Street is going to be a job training center."

You were describing the exact properties that Tim's intelligence had flagged as fronts for criminal enterprises. The construction project the Batfamily believed was for money laundering. The warehouse they thought was a drug distribution center.

"It'll take time," you continued, oblivious to Jason's mounting horror. "We have to be careful, make sure all of Dad's old associates are dealt with properly. Some will probably have to be bought out, others might need to be... encouraged to find new business opportunities. But James has been planning this for years. Once Dad is gone, we can finally start cleaning up the mess he made."

Jason felt like he was drowning. Everything, absolutely everything, his family believed about your situation was wrong. You weren't complicit in your father's crimes. James wasn't a power-hungry criminal preparing to expand the family empire. You were both victims, trapped in a situation you were desperately trying to escape and transform.

And the Batfamily's planned takedown would destroy everything you and James had worked for. Worse, it would happen right as your father was dying, in his final weeks when you were trying to find some kind of peace with your complicated love for him.

"Hey," you said softly, cupping his face in your hands. "You've gone all quiet. Is this too much? I know it's a lot to process."

"It's not too much," Jason said, his voice hoarse. "I just... I'm trying to understand. If your family's business is so dangerous, aren't you worried about getting caught up in it anyway? By association?"

“We want to turn dad’s legacy into something good, and we might face some backlash, but a lot of people do what they do on the East End because my father didn’t give them a choice.” you sighed before continuing, “It may turn dangerous, but James and I have been careful, we are going to turn everything over to the cops, and we’re going to negotiate for immunity, and we will turn it into something good. Dad started the construction of the Ramirez property and the foundation is about to finish, we were thinking of starting there.” You explained.

Jason stared at you, his mind reeling as the full implications of what you'd just told him crashed over him like a tidal wave. You and James weren't criminals—you were reformers. You weren't planning to expand your father's empire—you were planning to dismantle it and build something good from the ashes.

And his family was about to destroy everything you'd worked for.

"The immunity deal," he said carefully, trying to keep his voice steady. "How does that work?"

"James has been in contact with someone in the GCPD for months. Detective Harvey, I think? We're going to provide evidence of all Dad's operations, help them understand the full scope of everything, and in exchange..." You took a shaky breath. "In exchange, we get to walk away clean and use the legitimate assets to fund the community projects."

Detective Harvey. Jason knew him—one of Gordon's most trusted people, and definitely someone who would have reported this kind of cooperation up the chain. Which meant Gordon knew about your plan. Which meant Bruce probably knew, or could have known if he'd bothered to coordinate with GCPD instead of planning his own operation.

The realization hit him like a punch to the gut. Bruce hadn't wanted to work with the police on this one because he hadn't trusted that they could keep your cooperation quiet. He'd been planning a takedown that would net more criminals, more spectacular results, more proof that Batman's methods were superior to traditional law enforcement.

And in the process, he was going to destroy two people who were trying to do exactly what Bruce claimed to want—turn something dark into something that helped people.

"Jason?" Your voice was soft, concerned. "You look like you've seen a ghost. I know this is complicated, but—"

"Your father doesn't know, does he?" Jason interrupted. "About the plan to turn everything legitimate?"

"God, no." You shook your head quickly. "He'd never allow it. He thinks James is going to take over the business as usual, expand it maybe. If he knew what we were really planning..." You shuddered. "Even dying, he's still dangerous when he feels betrayed."

Jason felt sick. Your father was going to die in a few weeks thinking his legacy would continue. Instead, his children were going to honor his memory by undoing everything he'd built. It was either the most beautiful act of redemption Jason had ever heard of, or the most heartbreaking, depending on how you looked at it.

"There's something else," you continued, and Jason wasn't sure he could handle any more revelations. "The reason I wanted to tell you all this tonight..."

You slid off his lap and disappeared into your bedroom for a moment, returning with a manila folder that looked official and intimidating.

"James gave me these today," you said, setting the folder on the table between them. "Property deeds, financial records, construction permits—everything we'll need to prove the legitimate ownership of the assets we want to convert. But also..."

You opened the folder and pulled out what looked like architectural plans. "The designs for the school. The first one, anyway. James had an architect draw these up based on what the community actually needs."

Jason stared at the blueprints spread across your small dining table. They showed a building designed with obvious care—multiple classrooms, a library, a cafeteria, even a small medical clinic. In the margins, someone had written notes in what must have been James's handwriting: "Soundproofing for music room," "Extra security for after-hours programs," "Garden space for nutrition education."

"It's beautiful," Jason said, and meant it.

"It's going to work," you said, your voice fierce with determination. "We're going to take something ugly and make it into something that helps kids. Kids like James and I were, who need somewhere safe to go, somewhere that gives them options besides crime."

The parallel to what Bruce was trying to do with Wayne Enterprises, with his charity work, with his entire mission as Batman, was so obvious Jason wondered how his family had missed it. You and James were trying to be the change you wanted to see in the world, working within a corrupt system to transform it from the inside.

Just like Bruce Wayne. Just like Batman.

Except Bruce was about to destroy your efforts because he couldn't see past his own assumptions about what a crime family looked like.

"I wanted to tell you all this because I love you," you continued, reaching across the table to take his hands. "And because I trust you. And because... well, if we're going to have a future together, you deserve to know what that future might look like."

Jason's heart shattered. Here you were, trusting him with your deepest secrets, your most vulnerable hopes, planning a future that included him—and he was lying to you about literally everything.

"What if," he said carefully, "what if someone else was planning to move against your father's organization? Before he dies, before you and James can implement your plan?"

You frowned, considering. "Like who?"

"I don't know. Federal agents, maybe. Or..." He struggled to find a way to warn you without revealing too much. "What if there were people who didn't know about your plan to go legitimate? People who thought James was just another criminal taking over the family business?"

Your face went pale. "If someone moved against us now, while we're still technically part of Dad's organization..." You slumped back in your chair. "God, we'd lose everything. All the assets would be seized, the community projects would never happen, and James and I would probably go to prison even with Detective Harvey's immunity deal."

"Because the immunity deal is contingent on you cooperating voluntarily," Jason realized.

"Exactly. If we get arrested first, if it looks like we're only cooperating to save ourselves from charges, the whole deal falls apart." You buried your face in your hands. "Jason, if someone is planning something... we need to know. James and I, we need time to get ahead of it, to make sure Detective Harvey knows we're the good guys."

Jason stared at you across the table, this woman he loved more than his own life, and realized he had a choice to make.

He could maintain his cover, report back to Bruce, let the Batfamily's operation proceed as planned. It would be easier, safer for him personally. His family would be proud of him for completing the mission successfully. You would hate him forever, but at least you'd be alive to hate him.

Or he could tell you the truth. Blow his cover, betray Bruce's trust, possibly compromise other operations. But give you and James the warning you needed to protect your plan, your future, your father's dying wishes transformed into something beautiful.

"There's something I need to tell you," Jason said quietly.

You looked up at him, and the trust in your eyes nearly broke his resolve. "What is it?"

Jason took a deep breath, thinking of Roy's words: Don't you think she deserves the chance to love the real you back?

"My name is Jason Todd," he began, "and I work in security consulting, but not the kind I told you about." ------------------------------------ Taglist: @punksnotdeadbutiam @imdeloulou @softgirlspring A/N: don't hate me pls i will cry

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