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insomnishnik · 29 days ago

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✴ MY MAN.

PAIRING: j. todd | 1.4 wc

CW: sfw, fluff.

. . . 💬: the batfamily catches jason and his partner during a date at the fair.

LINKS: masterlist.

A/N: old old vvery old work i have a deep connection to <333

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

THE LIGHTS COVERING THE FAIR HANG LIKE STARS IN THE SKY ABOVE YOU. The bright colors dance across the fair as you and Jason walk hand in hand down the painted road. The different stalls and stands covered in red and white striped tents spread an infectious sweet aroma in the air, warming the atmosphere around you both.

Jason can feel your hand tighten around his as your eyes dart around the fairground, following anything that catches your eye.

The day has been spent checking out rides, such as the turning Ferris Wheel and the fair blanketing the ground with its vivid hues as you both watched from such a height. He remembers how thrilled you were looking down, grasping his hand with yours.

He also remembers only looking at you, the sea of tents, balloons flying high in the sky, and people mingling long forgotten.

You had all his attention.

The lights from below reflect in your eyes. “Isn't it beautiful?” you question.

Jason focuses his gaze on you. “It is,” without a doubt, “beautiful.”

The picture of you and him in that cramped photo booth appears in his mind over and over again. The walls were decorated with a rainbow of colors; the glitter spread through the narrow space, sticking onto your clothing and messy hair.

Surprisingly, he doesn't feel constricted and trapped in such a place. A carefree grin breaks out on his face, a matching one to your glowing smile.

You move your hand to his face, pushing the strands of hair away. You say something about him being handsome, and he feels the warmth rise to his cheeks.

He can only huff and turn to face the other way as you let out a small giggle, “You are handsome; why deny it?” The same pink hue appears on your cheeks as well. The words are engraved into his mind, not that he has the courage to say that yet.

The camera flash snaps him out of his reverie. The black-and-white strand of photos rests in his hands as a thumb caresses the surface. The picture of you two side by side, hands intertwined, is forever burned into his mind.

It’s something about your face when you're focused that enamors Jason. Maybe it’s the way your eyebrows furrowed together when you are concentrating. Maybe it’s the way you bite your lip, lost in thought. Or it’s the way you are oblivious to the world around you.

Oblivious to his stare that won’t leave your frame.

Even now, as your hands grip the water pistol, fingers tense yet precise, Jason can’t tear his gaze off of you.

You groan as you miss another shot at the moving duck. “Oh, for god's sake,” the yellow-colored cutout stares at you mockingly. “This is so rigged!” Your gaze is stuck on the Nightwing plush sitting on the stand as a prize, with its dark blue and black suit. “I need that plush.”

Jason chuckles at your predicament before being shushed by a glare from you. “You give it a try, big guy,” you say, shoving the orange-blue water pistol in his hands. It looks comically small in his hands.

“Watch and learn,” he gives you a smug smirk as he steps closer to aim at the ducks moving in rows above the light blue waves, until a familiar mess of blonde and raven-blue hair catches his attention.

Shit.

“Jay?” Your concerned voice rings through his ears. “Are you okay?”

The voices of Steph and Dick grow closer and closer as he gives you a panicked look, which you only answer with a confused, wobbly smile. They don’t know about you; you don’t know much about them! The only time you have interacted with his family was a baking competition with Alfred (in which he used salt instead of sugar, but that’s beside the point).

He didn’t want it to go like this! He wanted to invite you to dinner with his family (and pray they don’t scare you away with their antics).

He remembers when Dick caught a glimpse of your guys’ text a few weeks back, something along the lines of Get back home safe, honeybee, from you. He can still picture Dick's shocked and teasing face as the older brother held the phone high up away from Jason's grasp.

Honeybee? Isn’t that adorable?

I swear to God if you don’t give me that back.

He snaps himself out of the memory and tries to convince you to check out the funnel cake nearby. “I heard it’s delicious.” His eyes dart around as you give him an unimpressed look.

“Nearby?” you ask, “isn’t it on the opposite side of the fair? I’m not walking that far; my feet hurt!”

“I’ll carry you.”

“But, what about my Nightwing plush?” You pout as you point to the mini version of his brother; granted, you don’t know that it’s his brother. Curse that plush.

“Jaybird?!”

Well, shit.

You both turn your heads to the source of the voice: a girl with messy blonde hair and jeans (with a purple heart sewn into it, you note) and a taller man with blue eyes approach you and Jason.

Jason feels as if he’s going to break the water pistol in his hands in two.

"Didn't you think we’d see you here?” Stephanie speaks up first before turning the attention on you. The three of you break into a conversation. Jason’s the only one who sees the teasing glances his siblings send his way, while you stay oblivious to it all.

He should be happy that you are getting along with his family. Heck, this is what he was preparing for all these months. But he didn’t want it to go like this! On top of that, it feels as if he’s being left out of the conversation.

“So, are you two on a date?” Steph asks, putting the emphasis on the date part of that sentence.

“Yep, we are!” You answer with a glowing smile, “It’s so nice to finally meet you guys.”

Jason is glaring daggers at the two of them, but Dick and Steph don’t seem like they're going to let this go (their grins seem to confirm that).

They shush any attempt of his at getting in the middle of you three, their attention all on you. Questions like How’d you meet? When did you guys become official? Are you working for any villains as a henchman, by any chance?

You answer with the same elegance as Jason loves about you, holding your head high and easing into conversation.

It’s only when Dick turns to look at the water pistol in Jason's hands and the lone Nightwing plush resting on the prize shelf does he address his little brother, “Trying to win the Nightwing plush, are you Jaybird?”

Jason can feel his cheeks burn up. “Unfortunately, Yes. Don’t let it get to your head.”

Dick gives him a small, genuine smile, one that speaks of that one sentence that he always hears from his brother: I’m proud of you, Jay. Maybe this isn’t so bad. He feels all the worries slowly leave his body as the scene finally sinks into his mind. His siblings are here, and you are here, talking and having a truly good time.

Yea, this isn’t so bad.

“Oh!” Steph speaks up, “Let me try!”

“I’m warning you, those ducks are rigged so you lose,” you tell the blonde before moving closer to watch, eyes curious.

“Watch and learn!” (Just like Jason) She aims, and it hits the swimming duck, “bullseye!”

“Wow,” you exclaim, “that was perfect! Where did you learn to aim like that?” you ask, genuinely curious.

Steph's face freezes up in surprise. She fumbles with the plush being handed to her before pushing it your way. “It’s a talent, I guess? Aren’t I lucky?”

“Runs in the family?”

“..Yes?” She mumbles with a wobbly smile before throwing an arm around your shoulders. “So, you ever need to win another plush; you know who to call.”

Dick lets out a small chuckle while Jason glares at the Nightwing plush in your hands. “A fan?” Dick asks.

“Duh, but Jay over here is more of a Red Hood enthusiast.”

“Pretty—”

“What?”

The voices of his siblings and you slowly drown out the sounds of the fair. Jason watches the three of you talk and joke like you’ve been friends for ages. He might deny it, but god, he feels so happy right now. Happy that his family is getting along.

He feels at peace, and it’s all thanks to you guys.

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

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insomnishnik · 1 month ago

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a bloody vow | jason todd

Summary: After the racy encounter with your knight, you seem to lose all progress made in your relationship. You hardly talk, and you're lonelier than ever. But after a house break-in has you running to Jason for help, you're forced to face each other, blood and all.

Pairing: knight!Jason Todd x gn!reader

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings/tags: violence! Jason kills a man. reader and jason's house is broken into and the thief attacks the reader (but they're okay.) mentions of self-flagellation, religious guilt. reader feels very lonely without their big strong knight :( the eroticism of killing for another person. codependence. partial nudity. probably not the healthiest relationship but whatevs. Jason would do anything for them what more could you want?

the divider

Everything's changed since the morning that you found Jason with the whip.

He won't even eat with you anymore.

He accepts whatever you make and thanks you quietly, then eats his supper in the shed. He didn’t say much before—now you're lucky if you get more than a word from him.

He's also taken to punishing himself regularly. Jason does it far away, so he won't wake you. But you've seen his back and the welts peeking beneath his tunic and the spots of blood. You also see fresh injuries from his training, injuries that could be avoided if he was more careful. You've tried to offer him a salve to heal his back. He always refuses, flinching like a kicked dog if you get too close.

You fear that you'd pushed Jason too far that morning. You replay it in your mind, wondering what exactly had possessed you to act in such a vulgar manner. Exposing yourself to him like that after spying on him earlier—what were you thinking?

You weren't, is the truth. It seems all rational thought leaves your brain when you're around him.

It's truly like living with a ghost. Your feelings are jumbled, caught in a maelstrom of guilt and fear and desire. More than anything, you're unbearably lonely. You'd feared a harsh hand when you first were deposited into Jason's bed. You never imagined that there could be a worse fate than being wanted: being ignored.

So, it's been three weeks of this new routine. Jason has been disappearing at night to the pub. Not that he told you that—you know this because of the incessant gossip that flies around the market. It's not hard to decipher who the 'hulking knight' is when people stare at you.

You try not to think about what Jason gets up to. You really have no right to be angry if he finds someone to warm his bed. You're lucky he hasn't thrown you into the sea after your insolence.

Routine is all that keeps you sane. You do the washing and cooking without complaint. Jason still leaves you money to go to the market, and sometimes you save a couple of coins to buy books. You keep the books under a floorboard in your room. He never asks you for change.

You don't know if this routine will be enough, though. You wish Jason would just throw you out and be done with it. You're certainly not performing the duties that the king expected of you when he brought you here. Jason can hardly look at you, much less touch you.

You eat alone tonight. By the time you wash up and are ready for bed, it's late. Jason still isn't home.

Not unusual these days. You get into bed and blow out the candle. Maybe you won't wake in the morning. Then you'll both be free.

A crash jerks you out of slumber.

You're awake immediately, fumbling under your bed for the small dagger you'd secretly purchased when you first came.

Your first thought is that Jason came home drunk. But if he’s come home drunk in the past, you've never heard him, and it's always as quiet in the morning as it was the night before.

A chilling second thought hits you as the floor creaks outside your door.

Someone's broken in.

You quietly get to your feet, dagger in hand. If Jason were home, he would be here already, dealing with the problem. As it is, you're alone and completely vulnerable without your knight.

Your door splinters open. You stumble backwards.

"Wha' have we here?" A lantern shines in your face. "Look a' this. Pretty thing like you shouldn't be left alone."

You bolt for the front door.

“Oh, no no, you don’t.”

The intruder darts after you and stops you before you can open the door. He hauls you backwards and throws you against the dying fireplace. You land on your ribs and the wind is knocked out of you.

"Too big of a house for a little mouse like you,” the man says with a greasy sneer.

You turn and lunge at him. You catch him off guard enough to stab his shoulder with the dagger. He howls in pain and shoves you off. Your head hits the wall, and for a moment, you fear you’ll vomit. But you don’t, so you stand.

"You bitch!" he shouts. "I'll fuckin' kill ya for that!"

That's all the motivation you need to run.

You’re aching all over, head pounding. Your legs are cold, being that you're only in a nightgown. You might be bleeding. But you keep running.

You run all the way into town, which feels like miles at this time of night, bruised as you are. It’s easy to find the pub, and it doesn’t even occur to you that you’re not allowed inside. All that’s on your mind is Jason. Find Jason.

You pound your fists on the door of the pub, crying.

"Jason, Jason!" you shout. “Help me, please! Please!”

The door opens. You stumble in, almost tripping on the uneven wood. Men stare at you as you enter.

"Jason!" you yell.

A knight you don't recognize stares down at you, blocking your path. You stumble back, grabbing the wall for support.

"Out," he snarls.

"Please," you beg. "Please, I need my husb—"

He's shoved aside suddenly, ale sloshing over his mug. He growls in protest, but someone drags him away by the back of his tunic.

Relief floods you at the familiar face who takes his place. Jason.

He's obviously shocked to see you here, eyes roving over you. His shirt is unbuttoned, a thin fresh cut on his cheek. He says your name. Every inhibition you’ve felt over the last month disappears.

"What—"

You throw yourself into his arms, weeping. Jason catches you, cradling the back of your head. You're surrounded by him, the rest of the world blocked out. He smells like the strong yellow soap you make in large chunks because it’s cheaper than purchasing it at the market. He smells like the home you share.

"What is it? Where do you hurt?" he asks quietly, shielding you from all the pairs of eyes. He rubs your back, bent over you. You cling to his neck, shaking with the memory of tonight.

"A man b-broke in," you say, and Jason's grip tightens. "He said–he said he w-would...k-kill…"

You trail off. Jason pets you, breathing even on your neck.

You know that you hardly have any rights, that the men here would sooner see you die than step into danger for you. Perhaps that includes Jason too. Perhaps it's too late.

"I understand," Jason says into your ear. He doesn’t waver despite how you tremble. "It's alright. I won't let him hurt you again. I'm... I'm so sorry for leaving you alone."

He exhales, long and slow. You feel him begin to pull away. You panic, digging your nails into his arms. Jason quickly soothes you. He doesn’t chastise you for clawing him.

"It’s alright. I'm going to handle this, and then we'll go home," he says. "Roy."

A redheaded knight approaches. You slowly turn your head. He smiles gently at you.

"Your Highness," he says, bowing deeply, and you feel a little lighter.

"Roy's going to take you home while I handle the thief," Jason says. "I promise that I'll be fast, alright?"

"You promise you won't leave?" you ask. “You’ll come home right away?”

Jason takes your hand, stroking your knuckles. "I swear. May God strike me down if I don't return."

“Oi, man, get your little harlot out of—”

Jason stands, rising and towering over the angry drunk. He’s immediately cowed under Jason’s gaze.

“Watch your mouth,” Jason says, even and deadly. The man leaves in a huff.

"I'm sorry for causing trouble," you whisper, cheeks still wet.

"You haven't," is all he says, before leading you outside.

You have an audience, which is absolutely humiliating, but neither Jason nor Roy pays them any mind, so you don’t either.

Roy helps you onto his horse, and in the time that that takes, Jason is already headed back to the house by the time you and Roy start off. You realize then that you trust Jason. You've never met this Sir Roy in your life—Jason's never even mentioned having friends. But you trust that you will get home safely.

“Jason won’t let him get away,” Roy says. You believe him.

The ride is short. You don’t know if you’ll manage to go back to sleep without Jason there, but the least you can do is host Roy, perhaps. You’re bone-tired, but you ought to be hospitable, shouldn’t you?

But as you get closer to the cottage, you hear voices in the woods. Jason’s horse is out front. You dismount without Roy's help and take off running. He calls after you. You ignore him.

You don't go through the house, not ready to face the destruction your intruder left in his wake. Instead, you go around and follow the stream into the woods. The voices get louder. When you get to the clearing by the shed, you stop.

The lantern has been knocked onto its side, flames flickering. But you can very clearly make out Jason in the dark. His shadow cuts a frightening figure that dances across the trees. Moonlight flickers through the canopy, illuminating him and the other figure. Your attacker.

Your attacker, who’s discovering that he picked the wrong house to rob.

Jason's got him pressed against a tree. Blood drips from the man's head and face. You stay a few yards away, behind a tree. The bark dully bites into your hand. You’re torn on whether you should make yourself known or not. Stop this or not.

"You touched them," Jason says, and does something with his sword that draws out a strangled groan from the attacker. The metal shines with fresh blood.

"I am worse than you," he continues. "I lost sight of my duty. My reason for living. Everything I do is for the star-crossed beauty my king captured for me. It's all I can do to pay penance for my sins. And you come into my house and dare to lay a hand on what is mine?"

The breath leaves you in a punch. You're cold with sweat, but something tugs at your gut. Something frightening. Something that tells you to stay hidden.

"I am worse," Jason says. "Because a good man would show you mercy and let you be hanged for your crimes."

"That fuckin' bitch deserved it," the intruder spits.

Here, Jason loses his composure. Here, he twists his sword.

"I will tear you apart," he says, voice a snarl.

And Jason does exactly that. It's bloody and gory. You feel sick a few times. You can't see everything in the fractured light, but you can hear it all. Bones crack, the man screams, but Jason doesn't relent. He drives his sword deeper and deeper. Blood gurgles from the attacker's mouth.

You watch on, feeling quite like you had the day you saw Jason fucking his fist.

The body drops with a thud as Jason lets him go. You imagine a sword slick with blood. You imagine Jason covered in it.

The realization is dizzying. You are an executioner, and Jason is your axe.

You don't know what you're more horrified by: the fact that it took you this long to look away or that you don't mind the stench of fresh blood.

Jason takes two steps and picks up the lantern. He sees you. He stops.

"He's dead," you say dumbly.

Jason swallows, face otherwise blank. "You... you were not meant to see that."

"I didn't." But you did.

He knows you did.

"Roy should've taken you inside," Jason says.

You can't understand why shame draws the lines of his shoulders.

"I didn't want to go inside," you say. "Not without you."

Jason inhales sharply. Then he looks away. "I shouldn't have... I pray that you'll forgive me, but I understand if you don't."

Jason is covered in more than a little blood. Red spatters his cheek, though it looks black in the shadows.

He's slick with blood. You wonder if he'll bathe in the river. If you might help him.

You step forward. Jason is still. He watches you steadily as you approach.

You pull down the sleeve of your nightgown and reach for Jason's face. He flinches. You hush him.

"It's alright," you whisper.

He lets you touch his cheek. His eyelids flutter as you wipe the blood from his face. Then you hold his cheeks with both hands. Jason shudders.

"You can touch me," you say.

Immediately, Jason shakes his head, hands curling into fists at his side.

"No. I'm unclean. You shouldn’t touch me either, you’ll—you’re—”

"I don't mind." Your thumbs trace the contours of his face for a moment, feeling the hard line of his nose, the curve of his jaw, his full bottom lip. He lets you, eyes locked on yours.

Then, you pull up your nightgown, revealing your bare thighs, your underwear, your belly. Jason’s chest heaves. He immediately looks away. But you’re quick. You guide Jason's hand with your other hand. He stains your flesh with blood. You picture the sticky, bloody handprint he'll leave on your waist. That frightening feeling returns.

Jason's hand is hot on your skin. He exhales shakily.

"I'm sorry," he says again, cupping your waist. His fingers gently knead your skin as if he's testing if you're real. It tickles, but you don't move, fearing Jason will pull away at the slightest jerk.

"Don't sleep in the shed anymore," you say.

"Alright."

"Eat supper with me."

"Okay."

You draw Jason closer. Blood smears your clothed chest. His thighs warm your exposed legs. You will not let him punish himself in the morning. You will sleep on his chest if that’s what it takes. Only you are allowed to draw blood from him.

"Are you mine?" you ask.

Jason's answer is instant.

"Yes."

#ok wow

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