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kandyscorner · 16 days ago

Note

Great! Because there is nothing I love more than Dick Grayson and his roommate that sometimes get it on (basically friends with benefits). It's very much best friends by day, lovers by night just trying to get through the stress of living. Maybe they're both cops or she's an attorney who works closely with the detective unit so they're around each other a lot. That's kinda how it started, they both were new to Bludhaven and needed a place to stay and ended up rooming together. They've got such a good flow and routine, very much in sync, and sex kinda just fills in whatever gap is left over. Anyways, can I request kinda the first time they blur that line? The high tension, the subtle touches, that shy first kiss testing the waters, then the flood damn breaking, and then the nervous "what do we do now" when they just finished with the best sex they've ever had?

So this is a little bit different. I did hang on heavy with the sex kind of just filled in the gaps, even though its their first hookup. Also my first smut ever, so be merciful with me, y'all. also my first Dick Grayson fic which I think is a little funny. Anyways!

Warnings: Smut, unprotected sex (technically theirs birth control), lots of uses of the words cunt and cock, Reader is female and has a vagina.

If there is something else I should add to the warnings let me know!

-----

Long week to an end and an even longer case closed. You weren't even a detective but it had piled up enough legal work to drain you, it didn't help that a certain black and blue vigilante was the producer of evidence. The court loved putting a fight up against that.

All though, you had to applaud Dick for how he, as the lead detective on the case, managed to alter the integrity of the evidence on his work and not Nightwing’s alone.He could sway any jury with his certified Pretty Boy face, or just about any judge for that matter.

Ethically, something like that would normally bother you but you knew Dick. He was a good detective and an even better person to boot. You knew he wouldn’t lie about the facts of the case.

It didn’t matter anymore anyway. The case was closed and the bad guy was behind bars for his crimes. You could let it go.

The moment you have the door open you're kicking your shoes off, letting them flip where they land, and dropping your bag and jacket with little decorum. You can hear Dick puttering around in the kitchen, can smell something good and can only hope he’s not burning down the place.

You walk past the kitchen in lethargic steps and are greeted by the ever smiling face of Dick Grayson.

“There you are, pretty.” He says, ever the flirt. “How was work?”

“Shower” is how you respond with what little energy you can muster before you're drifting down to the bathroom. Your feet ached from being in heels all day and your shoulders felt like they were going to get stuck scrunched from the tension.

You take a much longer than necessary hot shower, trying to will your nerves to forget about the work day. Once you're done, you're shuffling back into the kitchen, clad in fuzzy socks, a T-shirt you're sure is Dick’s and shorts probably not good for mixed company.

“What are you burning?” You ask Dick, settling a hip against the counter as you towel off your hair. You watch his eyes drag up the bare skin of your legs before pausing at your shirt.

“I can’t believe you. You don’t even listen to The Black Canary.” He sounds slightly miffed about it and drifts closer to tug at the hem of the shirt, knuckle skimming your thigh. You ignore the goosebumps that form on your skin there.

“Shouldn't leave your clothes laying around then, Dickie. Free claim after two days in the clean laundry pile.” You tell him, gesturing to the haphazard clothing piled on the accent chair in the living room.

Between your job and his two jobs, laundry was the bane of your existence. A deal was made instead: if anyone was doing laundry, collect anything dirty and wash it, leaving the clean pile to be sorted, maybe, eventually.

He rolls his eyes and his hand leaves you to move back to a pot on the stove, stirring whatever it contains.

“What are you burning?” You repeat your earlier question.

“I’m not burning anything, pretty. I’m cooking.”

“You say that like you didn’t almost destroy our toaster making toast.” You say moving close to the actually good smelling food. His hand reaches out to pinch you for the comment and you pout at him when you fail to maneuver away.

“That was one time, don’t hold it against me.”

“Your favorite food is cereal.”

“That’s not related to this.” He guffs before he’s nudging you against the counter. He presses into your space with a teasing grin and all you can do is arch your brow in challenge. If he wanted you to move, he could ask. He opens the cabinet next to your head and pulls out two bowls.

Bowls set on the counter on either side of you, he keeps you cornered there like he’s tempting you into something and you just stare. It doesn’t take long before your stares become a staring contest, eyes narrowing and widening as they start to dry.

Never one to be beat by Dick Grayson, your hands move slowly. Drifting up and settling on his chest, you let them smooth down his shirt before you're sneaking a finger under to scratch at the skin of his hip bone.

He blinks, eyes dropping to your hand before you pull back to poke at his ribs.

“I win,” you declare but your victory isn’t much because Dick is still staring at your hand. You snap your fingers and he’s glancing back up at you.

“You still haven’t told me what you made for dinner.” You tell him trying to draw him back from whatever dazed place he had gone.

“Right, it’s Alfred’s recipe. Don't worry I called him while I was cooking…”

****

Dinner is had in a mild silence, occasionally sharing stories of the day. The only thing Dick had for work was witnessing the case you had been covering. The rest of his day was lounging. It was why he had actually made dinner for you. Proof he could be a “House husband” given the opportunity, or so he said. You rolled your eyes at him before collecting and washing the dishes.

He worked beside you, putting the leftovers away and shuttering you away from the dishes once he was done.

“I’ve gotta do my due diligence, Sweet thing. Go lay on the couch.” Usually you would put up more of a fight but your feet really did hurt. So you left him at the sink to face plant into the couch.

It doesn't take very long for him to join you, bending your legs at the knee to settle underneath your shins. He takes to massaging your socked feet in a way that has you groaning into the couch cushions. You can hear him laughing at you but you don't have it in you to care.

Especially not after he settles his free hand on the back of your bare thigh. It moves up and down slowly as he pauses on your foot massage to start the show you two had been watching together. You try to remind yourself to breathe when his distracted hand stops moving just below the crease where your bum and thigh meet. It has you turning your head to glance at him but you find him still focused on the TV.

The show starts and he goes back to his massaging, hand slipping away from your ass to massage your calf.

“Jesus woman, how are your legs so tense?” you snort before you turn around onto your back, legs shifting in his lap.

“That's on wearing heels all day. Although, my whole body's tense. I feel like I can't relax.” you say stretching out your body. Dick’s hand moves from your knee up your thigh before pausing.

“Poor thing.” he coos and it makes you want to kick him. You sit up instead, pinching at his arm.

“Ow! What was that for? I was sympathizing.” he pouts at you.

“No, you were not, you were being condescending. I know. Your life is so much more stressful than mine.”

“You make me sound so heartless, pretty.” you move your hand to pinch him again but he catches you, moving your hand to his shoulder.

“Repayment on the massage?” he asks, his other hand still settled on your thigh.

“What's the magic word?” he smirks at your request

“Please, pretty please with a cherry on top.”

“We’re out of cherries. Someone ate them all.” you deadpan. His smirk widens to a grin.

“I had to make sure I could still tie the steams with my tongue. I can if you wanted to know,” he boasts with a wink.

“You’re terrible,” you murmur before slipping your fingers under his collar to massage his shoulder.

He groans the same way you had and you wonder if he felt the same way you did. Your legs shift trying to settle yourself and his hand tightens against your thigh, skin dimpling slightly. His shoulders slowly relax as you press into a knot, his eyes sliding shut with a wince.

“Sorry,” you say quietly as you watch him. His hand flexes on your leg before he’s opening his eyes to meet yours.

“Don’t. You're perfect.” he says lowly and it has you shifting again. His other hand meets your other leg and he holds them together.

“Stop that,” he tells you and you do, pausing even in your massage. His hold loosens and he’s skimming up and down your thigh again watching you as your fingers linger in the collar of his shirt. You feel something akin to electric shock, something not entirely unfamiliar with Dick, when his hand moves higher.

Your eyes linger across his face, at his blue eyes and perfect lashes, strong cheekbones and jawline, and his perfectly plush lips that you've thought about too much when you’re alone in your bedroom. His hand hits the edge of your shorts and pauses. You meet his eyes again, and find a question.

You break your eye contact with him and pull your hand from his collar.

“I should get the other side, yeah?” you ask quietly and his hand leaves your leg.

“If you want to,” he mumbles and you think he sounds a little distraught about it. It makes you smile as you pull one of your legs from his lap and readjust yourself to straddle him.

Your eyes glimmer as you look down at him, his eyes wide with shock. His hands hover over your hips like he's suddenly unsure of his own charged touching. Knees pressing into the couch, you settle onto his lap.

You let your hand slide under the collar of his shirt on the other side. Fingers massaging into the skin. He groans again, head falling back against the couch. Between that and the pretty view of his neck, you're shifting your hips again, down with more intention.

His hands finally settle on you. One on your hip and the other squeezing at your thigh again like he can't decide if he's going to pull you down or throw you off.

“Is this better, Dick?” You question fingers pressing harder into a knot. His head draws up to smirk at you.

“Should've known you were a vixen.” he says, all teasing again. It has you sitting forward grinding your hips down against him as you feel him hardening under you. You press into the knot on his shoulder harder and it has him tipping forward, tucking his head into your neck.

“Don't be mean to me, pretty. I've had a very long month,” you feel more than hear him complain against your skin. Despite his words, his hand on your hip widens across your lower back and he's pushing you down into his lap.

A startled sigh leaves you as he starts leaving gentle wet kisses against the skin of your neck. You follow his lead and grind your hips, his hard length providing the perfect friction that leaves quiet noises from your lips.

Dick’s hips press up with little motivation and you think he's smiling into your neck, kissing and sucking, no doubt leaving marks for later. His hand leaves your back only to slip up under his your shirt to squeeze at the skin of your hip, tummy, and back, moving upwards from there.

The hand on your thigh moves up, slipping under the bottom hem of your shorts before he finds your panties at the bend of your hip and thigh. His thumb teases there before barely slipping under and staying there.

With a better grip on you, he's pushing you down as he bucks his hips up. It has a keening noise leaving you while he pants into your skin. Your hand tucked under his collar slides further under to press him closer, the other grabs at his bicep trying to ground yourself.

“How am I the tease in this situation?” You pant out as his hand under your shirt slides up, thumb brushing against the side of your boob. His teeth makes an appearance at your comment, ghosting against the space below your ear, and it makes you shudder.

He pulls back to look at you and you wonder what you look like. He's a picture himself, all flushed skin and dilated eyes, lips glossy from his escapade at your neck.

His hands grip at your hips, slowing your unconscious rocking that elicits a whine from low in your throat. Usually you'd be embarrassed with the way you've become so needy. But Dick’s hands on you were doing something, you wanted him to keep touching and squeezing the way he was.

“Wearing those little shorts,” his thumb slips from where it was tucked under the hem of your underwear to tug at the fabric of your shorts, “with my shirt. You are a tease.”

You roll eyes for the umpteenth time that night as you catch your breath, “if you're so upset about the shirt, you can just take it back,” you huff.

The look in Dick’s eyes turns wicked and you fear you've said the wrong thing. His hands disappear from your skin and you're suddenly blinded as he drags the fabric up and off your body.

You blink to clear your eyes and shiver at the cold air against your skin, “Dick” you snark in insult but the bite leaves you as his hands resettle on your skin, shirt thrown somewhere else.

“That's my name, don't wear It out,” he says it like he's in a trance, instead of the usual fanfare he says the statement.

His eyes track down your body, from your face to your neck to your breast's and down to where he grips at your waist. It makes you squirm. You're not usually self conscious about your body but Dick’s a player, or at least he was when you first became roommates, bringing girls around all the time.

He's seen plenty of female bodies and you're sure he knows what he likes. You don't want whatever this is to stop because he decided you didn't fit that box.

“Can't you sit still for three seconds?” he says while you squirm. His hands on your waist tighten and he's pulling you forward in his lap from where you had leaned back. All your worries leave you as he starts mouthing the other side of your neck.

One of his hands smooths up your spin to press you closer. His other hand comes to cup your breast. He lazily gropes, thumb slipping over your nipple. It makes a stunted breath escape you, body naturally pressing closer to him. Your fingers curl into his hair and you tug.

Suddenly, you're in the air, a yelp escaping you as you cling to Dick, then you’re settled with your back on the couch. He ruts against you as his kisses become a sloppy trail down your throat to your clavicle and down to the top of your breasts.

You shiver at the spittle cooling against your skin and it has you grumbling.

“I just showered, Dickie.” Your words come out as a sigh as he sucks a bruise to the top of your breast and ruts into you once before he settles his chin on your sternum to look at you with half lidded eyes.

“Want me to stop?” he asks and he presses a kiss to the inside of the boob closest to his mouth, it turns into a nip that has you tug his hair again. It doesn't deter him, only makes him smirk.

“No, just don't make such a mess.” it's a dumb request and you know it. If this keeps going the way it is (and you hope does), Dick slobbering on your chest will only be a mild issue.

“Course,” he teases, “my bad” and then he's licking back up the trail of wet he left. You shiver and gasp as he bites down at the junction of your neck and shoulder. He laves over it with his tongue and pulls back to grin down at you.

“Better, pretty?”

“You're an asshole.” He laughs loudly at your insult but it dies fast once your hand slips up under his shirt. You smooth up his chest to his pecs before drawing your nails down lightly all the way to his happy trail.

You feel him shudder, body slipping lower against you and he whines, actually whines. It makes you giddy, a pleased grin working itself across your lips.

“What's wrong, cat got your tongue?” you coo.

He doesn't answer, just pulls back from you to tug his shirt off. You stare, not that it's a new view. Dick didn't like wearing shirts if he didn't have to(and you usually don’t stop yourself from staring). What's new is the very prominent bulge in his sweats.

Your view is suddenly interrupted by his head as he ducks back down again.

“Hey, I was- oh, okay,” you cut off your own complaints as he wraps his lip around your nipple. He sucks, tongue flicking, and it makes your back arch, arms wrapping around his neck to keep him there. He sucks hard once and pulls off with a pop.

“What's that? Cat got your tongue?” he throws your words back at you with a cheeky grin.

“you little- fuck!” your spin curves up harshly as he dives back in for your other nipple, no pleasant sucking and lapping, only teeth lightly rolling the bud as his eyes watch your face. He lets go and you slump against the couch.

He tucks an arm around your waist, dragging your limp form back into an arch and tugs one of your thighs up to hitch it on his hip and he starts a slow roll against you.

His biting is replaced by soft kisses against the bud, tongue poking out to soothe the ache from his teeth.

“Sorry, baby,” he breathes against your skin, “you just don't know when to shut up sometimes.”

“I hate you sometimes,” you breathe out at a slightly harsher roll of his hips. His teeth skim over your skin like a threat and you shut your mouth. He kisses your chest in thanks. You throw an arm over your eyes because you do not want to see the smug smile you're sure he’s wearing.

His kisses stop and he’s no longer humping against you. You think you have a moment to breathe but then his mouth reappears under a breast, pressed to your ribs. Then a lick next to your belly button and a suck at your hip bone. You think he’s going to hook his fingers to your shorts and pull them down but instead he’s pressing your leg he had hitched to the side, spreading your thighs.

His kissing skips over the shorts to trail up your other leg, pulling it over his shoulder. You peek your eyes from where they were hiding to find him already watching you as he presses a long kiss to your knee. He moves down an inch and repeats it, then another inch and again.

“What are you doing?” you ask, voice pitchier than you'd like. You realize too late that the way he was looking at you was a goad, just to get you to speak again. His teeth sink into the meat of your thigh, close enough to the place you really want him that it has you clenching. A gasped moan leaves you and you feel him smile as he licks at the bite.

“Just testing you” he murmurs before he's nosing at the edge of your shorts.

“Fuck, I can smell you, baby.” he mumbles. His tone has your leg fighting against his hold, trying to close your thighs. He squeezes it and presses it down more. “Stop that,” he kisses where your clit is hidden under fabric, “Please,” he adds.

You stare at him, feeling so terribly unsure of what to do with yourself. You don't think you’d seen Dick look like this before, an edge to him that should make you want to run but it just makes you want to fight a little to see what he’ll do.

So you do. Dick is stronger than you, he always has been and probably always will be but he called you a tease. You’ll be a tease. You push your leg up against his hand. Your hips press back and you use your arms to help pull yourself away from him, scooting back on the couch. You keep a teasing smile on your lips, so Dick knows this is for fun and not because you're uncomfortable.

His head tips as he watches you, something dark in his eyes that makes your breath catch.

“I said please,” he sounds disappointed and you almost apologize on gut instinct but you never get the chance. His hands wrap around your hips and he tugs you right back into place, fingers hooking into your shorts and dragging them and your panties down, knees knocking as he does so.

“Why can't you just listen for once?” it's almost a gutted question that you'd worry about if he wasn't prying your legs apart like a mad man.

He doesn't wait for an answer or a sound from you before he's dipping down to lick a wet strip from your hole up to your clit. A startled gasp leaves you and your hand shoots out, tugging his hair.

He grapples with your hand, pulling it from his head and pinning it to your belly as he sucks softly on your clit in a way that makes your hips twitch. He sets a slow process sucking on your clit before dipping his tongue into you shallowly and then licking right back up to your clit only to repeat.

Your free hand grips onto the back couch cushion as the warmth grows low in your belly. Your thighs squeeze periodically around Dick’s head but he seems undeterred by the pressure. If anything it spurs him on, low groans escaping him as he presses his face more into your cunt, nose nudging your clit when he tongue-fucks you.

You arch and squirm, gasps and whines leaving you. Dick’s hand not pinning yours moves from where it was holding the fat of your hip to squeeze your boob. It's not until he pinches at the nipple, the same he teethed at, that your whimpering, free hand smacking down at his wrist to stop the sudden pain, in spite of the way it made your hips buck.

His hand moves quickly and in your sex addled mind you make out that he had set a trap. He tugs your once free hand down to meet your other on your belly and suddenly your limbs are trapped.

It takes a moment for you to ignore the burning sensation working its way up your spine to pick up your head to meet the eyes of your capture. You understand in an instant why he trapped your wrists on your belly the way he did, arms pressing your breasts together in a pretty display just for him.

“I knew- knew you were freaky,” you barely get the words out, toes starting to curl. He gives your clit a harsh suck that makes you cry out before letting it go.

“And here you are letting me. Doesn't seem like you're mad about it.” He dives back in with a renewed fervor, that has you trying to buck up against his face. His free hand not holding your wrists returns to your boob's and takes to pinching at your nipples.

You whine at the pleasure-pain coursing through your body. The edge of something tipping its way into your body, cunt clenching around nothing, as he sucks on your clit.

“Dick, please, it's- oh my god! Oh my-” your words morph into a choked moan as the wave of pleasure becomes too much. Your body fights against him, trying to thrash out of his hold unsuccessfully and he doubles down his efforts in a way that has you silently crying out, air gone from your lungs.

It takes a minute before he starts easing up on you and your gasping for breath. He gives one finally lick up your cunt and presses a kiss to your clit before finally letting go of your body. Your body twitches while you catch your breath with your eyes closed.

You feel shifting on the couch and then you feel his breath on your cheek.

“Hey there, pretty.” He says softly and you will yourself to open your eyes. Your breath is gone again. Those stupid gorgeous blue eyes staring at you and those stupid lips pulled into a smirk and covered in you. You think you should be grossed out but honestly you've never wanted to kiss Dick Grayson more in your life.

You don't entirely know how you've reached this point, you spread bare on your shared couch with your essence on his face. You could argue that kissing is hardly crossing a line when he just had his face buried between your thighs but you're not entirely sure how he would feel about it.

“You still with me?” He asks and you barely hear it past your ringing ears. You blame it on the post orgasm haze for not thinking, not asking but you curl your hand around his neck, tugging him down and you kiss him. Nothing dramatic, not a makeout, just a simple kiss. You pull back to lick at your lips, finding the taste of yourself there.

“Do you always make such a mess when you eat?” You manage out. He laughs and you relax.

“Fuck off, sweet thing,” he leans in and kisses you back with more intention than you had. He tips your head to press in deeper and you slip your tongue into it which he hums happily about as he returns the favor.

He pulls back just to say, “should've told me I could kiss you” before kissing you again.

You trail your now free hands across his bare chest as you kiss but it doesn't take long for your hand to creep lower, fingers dipping into the waistband of his pants. His hips cant forward at the touch and he's pulling away from you, a string of spit still connecting your lips that has you wrinkling your nose.

“What're you doing?” He asks, eyes staring into your own.

“What'd you think I'm doing?” You finally dip your hand into his waistband and find the base of him, hand wrapping around it firmly. His eyes squeeze shut and he takes a shuttered breath.

You slowly, loosely slide your hand up his cock, squeezing at the tip. You think he whimpers as his hips buck forward and he hides his face in your neck again. You go back to a slow lazy stroke of him. you take the time to mouth at his neck where you could reach, returning the favor of what your neck will look like tomorrow.

“Want you in my mouth, Dickie. Can I do that? Will you let me?” You whisper into his ear and he groans, bucking into your lazy strokes more. He finally pulls back, kissing your jaw then your cheek.

“no,” he says gruffly and you're frowning.

“That's not fair, I let you put your mouth on me.” You complain and he quiets you with a kiss.

“later, you can later but I need to be inside, let me be inside, wanna cum inside you.” He pleads against your skin.

“That's not very safe. Trying to knock me up?” You tease but you also mean the question genuinely. He groans again before shaking his head.

“you're on birth control, been on it for a year and a half. Now please-” you tug on his hair to make him look at you, hand stilling on his cock.

“How do you know about my birth control?” he winces, at your tugging or your question you're not sure.

“You have an alarm set for the same time every night. I was curious, so I may have looked up your medical records. You have a great heart by the way.” You tug his hair harder and then smack his shoulder

“Richard Grayson, that is a HIPPA violation, what's wrong with you? I should have you arrested!” Your hand pulls out of his pants so both your hands can smack at his chest.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry I really was just curious.” You glare at him before you think back to the few times your alarm had gone off and you had ignored it. Dick would tell you to take care of it, that it could be important. The asshole made sure you took your birth control without telling you he knew it was birth control.

“You suck,” you grumble. Unfortunately, he was right about bringing up the birth control thing.

“You're clean right?” You ask because the last thing you need is an STD from your roommate. His eyes widen and he's nodding fervently.

“Got tested after my last hookup and that was months ago.” He looks far too giddy about this.

“Fine, you can cum inside,” you say it begrudgingly like you're doing him a favor despite the way your cunt squeezes at the thought. the minute the words leave your mouth his lips are back on yours and he's kissing you with renewed energy. He pulls back with muttered “thank you’s"

His hands work under your knees and he's pushing them up over his shoulder. He grinds his still clothed cock up against your cunt, the fabric friction making you wiggle uncomfortably.

“Dick,” you say his name in complaint.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss to your knee before he's shimming down his now stained sweats. You sit up to glance at him between your legs. While you had felt him with your hand you wanted to see him

His cock was pretty, just like the rest of him. A reasonable girth but you could see that his strength lied in his length and the curve of it. You’ll definitely feel him against your cervix. You clench at the thought.

A glob of spit lands on his cock, some of it sliding off and onto your cunt before he’s wrapping his hand around himself and tugging.

“That's gross,” you mutter, still staring at the way he strokes himself. Dick chuckles to himself.

“You just asked if you could have it in your mouth but it's gross that I spit on it.” he grins

“That's not the same thing ‘sides you spit on me too.” his eyes drop from your face to look down where the spit had slid off his cock. He lets go of himself to palm at your cunt, hand collecting spit and slick before wrapping it around him again, tugging just a bit hard. Your hips buck against his hand and you have to bite down a complaint when his hand leaves you.

“Better, baby?” he groans.you watch his face, the way his brows pinch and his mouth drops open as he gives himself a particularly harsh tug. He meets your eye with a cocky grin.

“You know, mess is good for this.” he tells you, “Getting sweaty and spit everywhere is part of the fun. Plus when you're wet enough, like how you got when you came so pretty on my tongue, it makes it easy to just slip,” you feel the head of his cock press into your hole and it makes you clench at the intrusion, “right in there.” he groans.

Dick takes his time working himself into your cunt, pulling back slowly before pushing an extra inch into you. It made you whine, wanting the whole of him to just press into you, but he was set on teasing you. Hands holding tight to your hips, stopping you from even attempting to buck into him. He cooed at you the entire time like that would make it better.

“Doing so good for me, baby”

“gonna take this cock like a good girl”

“Your so fucking tight and wet, could stay here forever.”

It's when he finally bottoms out that you find you were right about being able to feel him against your cervix, he grinds against the spot inside you and it nearly makes you choke, wiggling and clawing at his wrists at your hips.

“It’s too deep, Dick. Can feel it.” you gasp and his hand smooths from your hip, undeterred by your hand, to press low on your belly.

“Right here?” he hums and you arch at the pressure. The jerk has the audacity to laugh at you before pulling out, just the tip sitting at your entrance. You flinch as brings the head of his cock to slap against your clit.

“Don't worry. We might get you to feel it even deeper.” he says before he groans, pushing himself all the way back into you to pull back and repeat it. His slow, measured pace is gone as he speeds up, hands gripping your hips and thighs to push into you harder and harder.

There’s nothing for you to do but hold on for dear life, moaning and whining with each brush of his hips to the back of your thighs. Your mind is barely conscious of the lewd sounds over taking the living room. The smack of skin and your own choked sounds are drowned out by the way Dick sounds and looks.

His tan skin flushed and sweaty, his head dipped watching where you connect like it's the world's greatest invention. His sounds are held back, you can hear it. His own moans barely reach his throat before he’s tamping it down to thrust harder into you. He does manage to mutter, to you or the universe you couldn't tell.

“Needed this, so fucking tight.” it's all under his breath but between that and the way he’s rutting into, it has you calling out his name.

“Dick, please,” his eyes snap back up to you and his thrusting slows to a stop half in. It makes you try to fight his hold on your hips to slide more of him in

“Why are you stopping? Don't stop, please, please, Dick” you could almost cry at his halted movement.

Suddenly he's moving, sliding more in and bending over you and folding you in half, knees nearly pressed to your chest. You choke on air, the previous threatened tears slipping out of the corners of your eyes. Dick moves slowly, hips barely pulling back to grind back into you.

“deeper?” he asks and you think he meant to be cocky about it but his voice was just too broken for it to land.

“Yea, yea, shit,” You barely manage and he’s bearing down on you more to kiss you. He keeps you folded like that as his grinds turn back into thrusts. It has your legs shaking as your second orgasm starts to creep up on you.

You can barely focus on kissing Dick back with the sounds leaving you but that doesn't stop him and he continues to kiss at your lips and face. You gasp against him at a particularly hard thrust, hands clamoring to dig your nails into his back.

“Can feel you in my fucking throat, Dick,” you choke out just holding on, each drag of his cock hitting that sweet spot inside you. Dick grunts and his thrusts pick up speed as he drops his face to your chest

“God, please tell me your close, baby, please,” he mumbles against your skin, fingers tightening hard enough around your hips you're sure it will bruise. His thrusts slowly grow less calculated, hips grinding before he goes back to thrusting again, like he can't decide what he wants.

“Close, I’m close. Need,” you try but you can't find what word you're looking for. Turns out you don't have to. Dick’s hand manages its way in between you and just as his thumb slips into circles over your clit, he sucks one of your nipples into his mouth.

Your entire body tenses and you see stars at the triple stimulation. You tighten around him as choked moans escape you. He groans around your skin at the sensation and then he’s sitting back up right, no longer folding you over. Your legs slide from his shoulders to settle around his hips. You barely hear his words, head floaty and somewhere else.

“Did so good for me, pretty, squeezed me so tight. Just a little bit longer.” you blink trying to register his words before he's sliding out of you and driving back in. You gasp but don't fight as he sets a quick, erratic pace. It doesn’t take long before he's tipping over, pressing his lips to yours as he practically whimpers into your mouth. You moan at the warm feeling as he fills you up.

His hips drag against yours a few times before he stops entirely pressed against you. The sudden silence is eerie as you two try to catch your breath. Dick recovers faster than you, pressing soft kisses to your face and the soon to be bruised skin of your neck.

“Thank you,” he mumbles quietly before he’s lifting his head high enough to meet your eye. You try to focus your energy on him. His hand comes up, presses sweaty strands of hair from your face and you sigh at the gentle touch.

“You okay?” He asks and it's only after his hand settles at the side of your neck that you realize he’s feeling at your pulse. You curl a weak hand around his wrist and smile.

“No, you killed me,” you joke as your hand slides up and down his forearm, “I hate you. You're too perfect, Dickie. Handsome and good at sex. unbelievable.” You add as your eyes slide closed. You can hear him laughing quietly.

He shifts, starting to slide out of you and you twitch, hands reaching to stop him, “wait” you say. He pauses hesitantly.

“I don't know how to clean cum off of upholstery.” You tell him blinking up at him and he snorts at your phrasing.

“Yeah, Okay,” he leans over the front of the couch and picks up his discarded shirt from the ground. He effortlessly picks up your hips, keeping you both connected and slides the shirt underneath. That’s not exactly what you meant but you suppose the shirt could go in the laundry.

His hands return to your hips and rub soothing circles into the skin. He grins down at you, “better?”

You flush at his teasing tone, in spite of him just fucked you to high heaven. All you can bring yourself to do is nod. Then he’s finally pulling out of you, your cunt spasm at the sudden emptiness, pushing out his cum. You watch as Dick settles back on his heels to stare down at it. You instinctively tip your knees inward, trying to hide the scene but he gently presses your legs up to stare some more.

“Pretty sight, baby. I could get used to it.” He murmurs and meets your eye. You understand what he’s saying, the offer, the request. If you want to do this again, I’d be happy to.

You nod at the implication, chin tucked, “okay.”

“Thanks, sweet thing,” he presses a kiss to your knee and clambers off the couch and disappears down the hallway. You close your eyes, a sleepiness surging at your mind. You don’t really want to sleep if only because of the stickiness between your legs.

You flinch at the feel of warm, wet fabric pressing between your thighs. You hadn’t heard dick return but there he was with a wet rag, sweat pants back on, gently wiping you down. The rag swipes over your folds and your legs try to close again at the unwanted stimulation.

“Almost done,” he practically coos at you. He finishes wiping and tugs the shirt from underneath you, wrapping everything up in a ball. He slides a clean pair of panties up your legs, lifting your hips for you. He does the same thing with the shirt you had worn earlier. Tugging you up to sit and feeding your arms through the holes. You stare at him as he does, a concentrated look on his features.

Then he’s lifting you up bridal style but you barely have the energy for a gasp. He carries you to your bedroom. As he tucks you into your bed you speak up.

“You're the king of aftercare, Dickie” he smiles softly at you before he’s pressing a straw to your lips. You drink some water and settle back into the bed. After he’s settling the glass on your nightstand, he presses a kiss to your forehead and then he’s wandering back to the door.

“Dick?” He pauses and turns to look at you, leaning against the door frame. You stare at his bare chest for a second, “you can stay here if you want.”

Never mind that it’s something you want but you two crossed some sort of boundary and you don’t know how far the stretch can go.

“You sure?” He asks like he could make you uncomfortable.

“Of course, Dick,” you pause, not wanting to seem desperate, but you want him to stay, “please”

That’s all the convincing he needs before he’s shutting off the lights and climbing into bed with you. He pulls you close and you both relax into each other.

You don’t know what this new turn in your friendship could mean but you hope it doesn’t change too much. Although, you wouldn’t Dick having his way with you a few more times.

-----

Masterlist

#dick grayson x reader #Dick Grayson x reader smut #dick grayson smut #dick grayson x female!reader #nightwing x reader #kandywrites #kandyscorner

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kandyshoppeart · 2 years ago

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Rules

Requests

Writing: open!

Art: Open!

Writing

I write x readers, x characters, and for all genders!

I do not write romantic fics for any character under 15,

My writing tag is #KandyWriting

Art

I have several styles, which will be tagged

The styles are #sketchy #colouredsketch #lineless #blackandwhite

My art tag is #KandyArt

BullShit

My ask box and dms are ALWAYS open

This is a 100% sfw blog

My bullshitting tag is #KandyBull

Schedule:

Tentative of on days that are divisible by 5

#rules

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lover-of-trash-and-people · 7 years ago

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You did not just uproot my world, did you @kandywriter ?

Is it me or does anyone else think that Zoe Nightshade would make the perfect love child of Thalia and Reyna

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fanfics-i-find-here · 6 months ago

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Do I know you?

Jason Todd X Reader

Synopsis: In the aftermath of a brief Kidnapping, Red Hood seems to think your important and wont stop hanging around your apartment.

Or in other terms, Jason got scared you were gonna die and doesn’t want to leave you alone

Notes: Reader is a waitress at a local bookstore/coffee shop that Jason frequents and he has grown very fond of her. They are vague acquaintances And she does not know that Jason is Red Hood. This is literally my first-ever attempt at a fanfic and Jason Todd has been rattling around in my brain. I might attempt to make this like a short series or something. Anyway, I hope it's enjoyed!!

Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Masterlist

“I think I have a new favorite stalker,” you say loudly out your open window.

Keeping your window open in Gotham was probably the worst idea you could ever have but your curiosity got the better of you when started to notice the fleeting red hanging out across the street and occasionally on your fire escape over the past two weeks. At first you were worried considering your recent encounter with Scarecrow as an attempted research rat.

However, the longer the red stayed near the easier it became to recognize. His helmet was shiny, which is what made it so easy to spot him. How that was helpful to a vigilante you didn’t know. Red hood was watching you and you had a feeling it was to make sure you were okay. You had heard of other bats checking on Civilians after traumatic incidents when they could, but every night for two weeks seems a bit excessive and he hasn’t actually talked to you. So what was he doing?

With no response to your jab, you lean out your window and repeat yourself, making a point to stare at the red helmet on the building across the street.

“I said I think I have a new favorite stalker!” You continue to stare him down.

Even in the minimal street lighting you can see his body tense, ready to run.

“Maybe he’d like to chat?” you tilt your head in questioning. You don’t why you asked. You were bad at keeping a regular conversation. If he came over and did, in fact, decide to chat, it might end up a short conversation.

A clattered thud pulls you from your thoughts and you gaze turns from the opposite roof top to the very large man now standing on your fire escape next to your window. You can’t help but stare at him. 6” something and built like a brick wall. Intimidating even leaning against the building.

Was he this big when he saved me?

“Hi?” is the only response you could muster. The urge to slam the window closed and shut your curtains itches at your finger tips. He stares at you, or at least you assume as much, the helmets white eyes giving away nothing. No wonder people were terrified of Red Hood. You haven’t even done anything wrong and you could wet yourself right here and now.

“Hi” You don’t know why your shocked to hear the modulated voice. He had talked to when he saved you from Scarecrow but it was still strange to hear. Slightly robotic but definitely a person underneath.

You realize that, maybe, you’ve been staring for too long.

“Tea?” you back away from the window and head for the kitchen expecting him to follow, as well as taking a moment to breath.

You just invited a good/bad vigilante into your home! What is wrong with you? Your mind is a swirling, anxious debate as you fill your kettle.

“I only have Green tea, I hope you don’t mind.” you yell from the kitchen, unsure if he was even in the apartment.

“Not at all” His voice is close then you anticipated, assuming he stay close to the window.

Instead you turn to find him sitting comfortably at your dining room table, watching you move about the kitchen. He looks out of place in your soft warm toned home. His brown leather jacket the only thing that could blend in. The harsh red bat on his chest sticking out like a sore thumb. Your gaze lingers a moment at the holsters on his thighs, suddenly realizing that if he wanted to do something to you, you were screwed. You turn back to your cabinets and pull out a couple of mugs, pushing away the thoughts. Red Hood was good guy, despite what previous attempts at bad he had in the past. You stand at the counter and stare at your kettle, willing it to heat faster. After a moment, You hear a distorted sigh.

“You wanted to talk?” Red Hood asks

You shrug your shoulders without turning, not entirely prepared for a conversation just yet. Red Hood doesn’t push you. The kettle begins to whistle, and you pour the two mugs, settling tea bags into them. You pick them up and set one in front of red hood, and settle into the seat opposite his, blowing on your tea. You take a sip and promptly burn your tongue, hissing in pain.

“it’s hot”

Your eyes fly up to Red Hood. You choke out a thanks, Having not realized he had taken off his Helmet. You let eye linger across his face, very handsome. A scar on his lips, that rests in a smirk, and another across his cheek. As you eye move up you let out a startled laugh, Another mask keeps his eyes hidden.

“What?” He asks, The smirk on his lips grows.

As your laughing fit slows, you pause to breath.

“You wear two masks.” You pause waiting for him to laugh. All he does is furrow his brows.

“it’s funny” you insist but he doesn’t respond. You settle down again. Well as much as you can considering the man in front of you, staring at your mug, slightly embarrassed

“So I’m your favorite stalker? You got a few?” Red's voice rings out in the silence. It’s rough and deep, like he’d been yelling.

A flush creeps up your face. If you were embarrassed before, you were definitely embarrassed now. It had taken you all day to come up with the throw away comment. You thought It was funny. You also didn’t think you would get this far in your interaction with Red Hood.

“Not really, just the one I hope” you chance a glance at him to find him still unsettlingly staring at you as a he takes a sip of his tea, now cooled. Your mind searches for what else to say.

“That’s good, I wouldn’t want that either” Jason finally breaks eye contact with you, looking around your apartment.

With his stare no longer on you, you take the opportunity to really take him in. Despite the scars on his face, there was kindness there. And despite his intimidating stature, he seemed to pull himself in, like he was afraid to take up space. His forearms exposed through his suit. What a weird design. Not that you were complaining. Overall, Red Hood was hot. You flush at the thought.

“Thank you, by the way” you rush out, “for saving me… it really means a lot”

Jason turns his gaze back to you. You brave up and hold his stare. Suddenly thinking, he looks familiar. You furrow your brows for a moment.

“Do I know you?” You ask before you can stop yourself. You physically cringe and try to back track.

“I mean, obviously I know you, you saved my life and all but I mean like I know your face? Maybe, not that it matters. Course you wouldn’t tell me if I did know your civilian identity because then it wouldn’t be a secret. I just think I know your face but that doesn’t mean that I want you to tell me. And maybe you just have one of those faces…” you continue to ramble some more. Jason watches you carefully and finishes his tea. You pause to breath in your rant and he jumps in.

“Thanks for the tea” he grabs his Helmet, sliding it on before continuing, voice changed, “and your welcome, for saving you.”

You watches as he walks back toward the window, frozen and unsure what to do. As climbs out onto the fire escape you yell out.

“Your welcome and you don’t have to hide outside, you can come in next time.”

He’s gone before even finish the sentence. You sink back in your chair.

What is wrong with you? Why are you so awkward? That was terrible!

You try to push the interaction from your mind as you close the window and go about spot cleaning your apartment. Once done your anxious thoughts return.

This is going to be a long night. You think as you turn into bed.

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #First Fic #Kandywrites #do i know you?

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fanfics-i-find-here · 2 months ago

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Do I Know You? Part 18

Synopsis: Red Hood makes an appearance again. Jason’s sorry about it.

Note: Red Hood is back for a minute, baby. Also, just putting this out there, this is like if one of the sex-pollen fics backfired. Is there a kiss? Maybe. Is it the one you guys wanted? I guess you’ll just have to read and find out, lol. Enjoy!

Masterlist

A month later, as the days grew warmer, you finally felt like yourself. Mostly. You had nightmares on the nights Jason didn’t stay with you, which was more often than not. Apparently, while he did make his own schedule, most jobs were done at night. You thought it was weird but didn’t think any harder about it (you did think harder about it, but it made you open The JarTM and remember similarities you weren’t happy about, so you closed it all up again and ignored it).

You had decided that you liked liked Jason. He took you to the Gotham Zoo on one of the warmer days and told you all about his little brother, who loved animals. He actually told you about his family unprompted. So, you just quietly walked with him and listened. Seeing him open up to you about something that he was usually so closed off about, well, you felt delighted about it.

You wanted to tell Jason how much he meant to you, but you still had a worm in your ear telling you he was just being nice. You argued with yourself about it a lot. It had been two months since the warehouse incident (and your subsequent fight with Red Hood). If Jason was playing nice because of that, then he would have stopped by now. Unless he’s just playing with you, the worm would add. You had come to the consensus that you wouldn’t do anything unless Jason said otherwise.

You became somewhat of an insomniac when Jason didn’t stay at your apartment, leading you to scroll on your phone in the middle of the night. It probably didn’t help, but you would at least get out of bed and do it in the kitchen, so your brain didn’t get confused about where phone time should be done. As you liked a group of posts from Steph (she had gone skiing with Tim and some other friends. Seriously, how rich were these people?) when you thought you heard something, a racketing outside.

You stop to listen but don’t hear anything else, so you go back to scrolling when you hear it again. You brush it off as some of the cats getting into a fight, but then you hear a squeak. You tense up, hand curling around your emergency alert locket on instinct. You turn and watch as Red Hood practically falls through your window. Red Hood, who you hadn’t seen since you blew up at him. Your chest squeezes.

“Red?” you ask, rounding the island but pausing at the edge of it, a mountain of emotional turmoil interjecting itself into your veins. His head snaps up to look at you, and you instantly feel like something is wrong, aside from the fact that you have no idea why he’s here. His helmet is missing, nowhere in sight. His chest heaves like he can't quite catch his breath. Even though you can't see his eyes, you can feel him staring a hole through your skin.

He doesn’t answer you. So, you take a few more cautious steps closer. His fists clench at his side as he leans against the wall next to the window. Closer, you can see his face is flushed, and you wonder if he’s sick, and if he’s sick, why would he come here? You don’t have time to ponder the question because he takes a step forward, and the rest of him follows quickly. Startled by his speed, you trip backward on your own feet and squeak as you fall, body tensing, waiting for the pain. It never comes because he’s on you as you fall, hand curling on the back of your scalp to stop you from hitting your head as you land on the ground with a shocked huff.

You stare at him hovering above you, but you don’t have time to whisper out a thank you or say anything because his lips are pressed against you, hard. Your eyes widen and remain unmoved in shock. He moves only slightly as he kisses you, head tipping this way and that. You break out of your stupor when he shifts to nip at your lip, and your hands press at his shoulders to push him off of you, unsuccessfully. Instead of pulling back, he just moves to your neck to press closed-mouth kisses there, more nuzzling your neck than anything else. You’d think it ticklish if you weren’t so confused.

“Red Hood, what are you doing?” you ask the question calmer than you expected. You should be more worried about the current events, but you genuinely think something is wrong. You don’t believe he would ever try to do something to you otherwise, despite the two months it’s been since you’ve seen him. He just hums against your skin as his free hand curls at your hip and grips hard enough to hurt.

“Red Hood, you need to stop. Something's wrong.” You can feel the warmth of his forehead against the side of your jaw. He’s burning up, feverish and sweaty. He pays you no mind, just continues his strange kisses to your skin, moving lower to the junction of your neck and shoulder. He clearly wasn’t himself. You understand now that he won't listen to you, that you'll have to stop him yourself.

Your mind goes back to two weeks ago. Jason, on a spiel about you walking home alone, said you needed to learn self-defense. He had taught you a few moves, but if there was one thing he drilled into your head, it was to always go for the balls. The idea had made you laugh at the time, in spite of how serious he looked about it, but now it made sense.

Even though Red had his face practically smashed to your neck, the rest of him hovered over you, his thick thighs straddling you. You could move your legs easily. You weren’t sure if this would do anything, especially if Red wore protection down under, but it was worth a shot. You flatten your knee, then bring it up quick and hard against his backside. He groans against your skin, but it must have been enough to knock him out of his reverie because he rolls off of you and huddles in on himself.

You scramble backwards quickly, standing, and curl your hand around the lamp on the table next to the couch. You point it at him threateningly.

“Stay,” you tell him while you try to fumble with the locket he had given you. It’s supposed to alert all the bats, so maybe somebody can pick him up and help him. He shifts, and your grip on the lamp tightens, but he doesn’t move more than to just stare at you. He’s still flushed, and his hands dig into his legs.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, I’m so sorry…” he starts, and then he’s on a roll, muttering about how he never wanted anything bad to happen to you and that he should be better. You think he gets distracted because then he talks about how pretty you look and how good you smell. You don’t notice how much he’s moved towards you until your bum is pressed to the back of the couch and his hand is curling around your calf. Both of your hands tighten on the lamp, but you don’t have the heart to use it. He just looks so distraught.

His hands climb as he talks, up the side of your thighs and hips until he wraps his arms around your waist and buries his face in your stomach. He’s back to mumbling apologies again, but you are far too distracted (more than you’d like to admit) with the man on his knees hugging you. You're stuck staring at him, unsure of what to do, until a voice you’ve never heard before breaks you out of it.

“Am I interrupting something?” the voice is deep but gleeful. Your eyes snap to a fit man in a black and blue get-up. Red Hood’s hold tightens on your waist at the sound of him.

“Something's wrong with him.” You say it quickly, like you're trying to explain the scene he’s witnessing. You're sure it's an odd sight. The big bad Red Hood hugging your waist like his life depends on it and you, holding your lamp in a vice grip above him. The man's lip quirks briefly into a frown.

“This is so not how I wanted to meet you.” He says as he takes a step forward. Red Hood all but growls, his arms tightening enough to make you wince slightly, distracting you from asking what he meant. The man stops moving.

“Take it easy, Little Wing. You know I’m here to help.” He offers you an apologetic smile. “He had a run-in with Ivy. She’s been on a more aphrodisiac spin recently.” It takes you a minute to understand what he’s saying (mostly because you're trying to figure out who Ivy is).

“Why would he come here?” The man’s smile changes into a teasing smirk that you don’t love.

“I’m sure it's nothing to think too hard about.” You feel seriously out of the loop, and you don’t think you want to know. With someone else present, you put the lamp on the couch. Your hands settle on Red’s biceps, trying to gently pry him off of you.

“Come on. It's time for you to go with…” you pause glancing at the other man.

“Nightwing,” he offers, albeit with a scrunched brow, like you should have known that. You squint at the weird name before looking back down at Red.

“It’s time to go with Nightwing. Get you the help you need.” His arms tighten again, and it makes you squirm slightly. “You're hurting me, Red.” His arms loosen, and his face pulls away from your stomach just to prop his chin there so he can pout at you. You can’t believe you’re thankful for his stupid mask. If you could see his eyes, you’re sure it would be game over.

“I can’t help you,” you explain to him, unthinkingly running your fingers through the top of his hair. He shudders and sighs. You decide you're not helping your case, so you pull your hand away.

“Nightwing and whoever else can help you to feel better, right?” You glance over at Nightwing, who is awkwardly looking to the side. After a moment of silence, he finally looks back at you, realizing you were talking to him.

“Oh, yea. Red Robin and Oracle already have an antidote ready. Just need to get him back to the cave,” he says. You decide you really need to look into the vigilantes of Gotham because you have no idea who these people are. You turn your attention back to Red Hood.

“See. They can help, I can’t,” He grumbles and buries his face back into your stomach. You sigh, already feeling like you're arguing with a toddler, but then he lets go, slow and lethargic. He stands and nearly collapses. Nightwing is quick to catch him, and you feel incredibly useless.

“Sorry about this,” Nightwing tells you, giving a blinding apologetic smile before he’s cramming Red Hood out your window with less finesse than you anticipated, although you think Red Hood fought him the entire time.

****

It’s only after you have locked your window and sat on your couch that it comes to your attention that you were not as freaked out about what just happened as you should be. Red Hood had forced himself on you (respectfully, somehow) but he hadn’t groped you, hadn’t humped against you like a mad dog. The worst he did was kiss you, held your hip a little too firm, and hugged you.

You bring a hand to your lips, tracing them. You hadn’t been kissed in years. If you had been prepared, you think it might’ve been nice. You snap yourself out of your thoughts. You liked Jason. You and him… weren’t dating, per se. You think about kissing him far more than you should. You think about The JarTM in your mind and blame it for why you’re thinking about how nice it was when Red kissed you. This is stupid, you decide, you missed Red Hood but not for kissing reasons.

Seeing him and then him being gone again, your emotions come back. You sag on your couch, preparing to nitpick your mind. You were mad at him again, not that it ever stopped. It had been covered up by the sadness of missing him. First, He got you kidnapped, and you still haven’t forgiven him for that. Second, he never tried to talk to you again (you ignore the fact that you told him to never come back because that clearly did not stop him). And thirdly, he kissed you, unconsented, and, if you hadn’t pressed that button, probably would have done something else (yes, he was drugged. You understand that, but he could at least have said something, or better yet gone somewhere else. Why did he come to you?).

You settle on just being peeved with him and keeping a mental list of complaints to tell him all about the next time you see him. The next time you're kidnapped, or he’s drugged probably, you think. A pointlessly petty thought but whatever. You did not get any more sleep that night.

****

A day later, Jason showed up at your door without warning. He would usually send you a text that he was coming over, but you got nothing. You wouldn’t have even checked who was knocking at your door if you didn’t recognize the way he knocked. You think he may have been sick because when you open the door, he’s sagged against the frame of it. He looks pale, exhausted, and guilty for some reason, weary eyes watching you.

“Are you okay?” is the first thing that leaves your lips. His own quirks, like he finds the question funny.

“Are you?” he asks in return with hint of earnest in knowing the answer. You shrug.

“I’m not the one who looks like the walking dead.” You mean it as a joke, but his lips press into frown and wonder how that could upset him.

You don’t have an opportunity to ask him because the door across the hall creeps open just an inch or so. You spot the brown eyes of your new neighbor. She was an older Italian woman who spoke just enough English to get by. She was sweet, in that old lady sense. A little nosy though, she reminded you of Darla just a bit in that sense.

“Ciao,” you say, the extent of your Italian knowledge, waving at her as you gently tug Jason into your apartment and close the door. He sags against the kitchen counter.

“You know Italian?” he asks.

“Not at all,” you answer as you nudge into his space as he so often does with you and press your hand to his forehead. His eyes close for a moment before he’s blinking at you.

“What’re you doing?” the question almost sounds accusatory, and you start to pull your hand away but his wraps around your wrist, pressing your palm to his cheek (Jason nearly started kissing up on your hand and wrist, leftover side effects of ivy’s new treat, but he managed to control himself).

He sighs into your palm, and you think it’s a new sound that you’ve heard before just not from Jason. The JarTM rattled louder than it had in months. It stuns you enough that your hand twitches, fingers curling slightly against his face. Damn Red Hood, you think, he just had to show up and mess up the way you think. Jason was not Red Hood; it’s a stupid connection that makes no sense. You mentally shove the stupid jar back into its corner (you may have been dissecting yourself in the past month but that would not be a part of that process) because Jason is staring at you, and you find his eyes are greener than usual, nearly sickly.

He still looked exhausted, still looked pale, but he hadn’t felt warmer than he usually did. He did have that stupid look in his eye (stupid because you can’t figure out what it is) as he stares at you. You suddenly remember that he asked you a question.

“You don’t look good,” you say quietly as your thumb rubs against his cheek where he holds your hand. He sags even more and your worry he might collapse in the kitchen if it weren’t for the little smirk that shows itself.

“You always sound so sweet when you insult me, sweetheart.” The heat of his breath skims across the inside of your wrist. You can feel the movement of his lips at the joint there. It throws you off enough to have you tugging your hand out of his hold.

It’s not that you felt uncomfortable; you know that you and Jason thrive off of physical touch, but you were usually the one that initiated the more… intimate moments. Jason was prone to just tucking your hair, giving you hugs, and pressing a kiss to your temple. You were the one that would drag him into bed or on the couch to cuddle. He liked to stand close to you, but you were the one that would curl your fingers together, not him. Things that bordered the line of platonic and less so.

This moment in the kitchen with his eyes staring into your soul and his lips nearly pressed to the sensitive skin of your wrist has your heart in your throat because, for some bizarre reason, it felt like the least platonic thing that has ever happened to you (despite him having literally bathed you in your underwear).

“I mean you look sick,” your words come out in choked stutter that has an embarrassed warmth spreading up your neck, “and you should lay down.”

You step out of his space because you need air. His body leans forward, following you, enough that you worry he’s going to fall. You steel yourself and get rid of whatever swirl of butterflies Jason always gives you. He had spent nearly two months taking care of you in his own ways. It was your turn to take care of him.

“Couch or bed?” you ask and his face makes a weird crinkle before he’s full-on smirking at you.

“If you wanted to seduce, babe, you could’ve just said something,” he says.

You sputter, skin growing warmer by the second, “I’m not- that isn’t- shut up and answer the question.”

“That doesn’t work, sweetheart. Either you want me to shut up or you want me to answer the question. I can’t do both.” He teases and you don’t know what to do with yourself.

****

Okay, so, maybe the family was right. Maybe he should have waited another day before coming to see you. Barbara, Tim, and Bruce told him at separate times that Ivy’s newest pollen would still have lasting effects and that, because he had already gone to you before, if he saw you again those side effects might get stronger before they went away. He felt fine when he left (snuck out of) the manor. He didn’t have a fever anymore, didn’t feel like he was going to claw out of his own skin. He was fine and he wanted to see you (less desperate than the night before but still a little desperate).

Then he saw you and you touched him, and he nearly felt like he was on fire. His hands and mouth moving of their own accord. He could tell how surprised you were by it but watching you sputter was doing something to him. Part of him, the more sensible part, was worried, of course, that he was making you uncomfortable (part of the reason he had wanted to see you was because he wanted to make sure you wouldn’t revert back to hermit mode after what he tried to do the night before as Red Hood). However, you hadn’t stepped very far away from him. If Jason wanted to, he could easily wrap his hand around your arm and pull you back into his space.

He didn’t. Instead, he stared at you. You really were pretty, even in your embarrassed state. You hadn’t gone to work today. He could tell because it was 2 in the afternoon, and you were still in pajamas. It made him want to kiss you again. Last night, he had been out of control, most of his urges taking over before he could stop them. Today it would be different, he could stop himself from acting out. He still wanted to kiss you.

You seem so unsure of yourself that he decides to reign it in. You were offering your bed and hopefully that included you in it. He felt exhausted suddenly. The ride to your apartment he had so alert with the fact that he was going to see you but now with you in front of him, close enough that he could smell your shampoo, his energy was gone.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he pushes every ounce of remorse into those two words, especially after he had forced himself on you last night, “I am sick, and I’d like to lay in bed with you if I haven’t scared you off.” Your flustered features relax, and you smile at him sweetly. It nearly killed him how much he wanted to drag you close to his body.

“You don’t scare me, Jay,” you say oh so sugary. Oh my god, he’s going to die, “If anything you make me feel safe.” You point a finger and poke at his stomach. His hand curls around your wrist again, more light, more delicate. Despite all of Jason urges to kiss you (and do a bunch of other things that he’s tucked away in a deep dark hole), they all pause to appreciate what you’ve just said.

He made you feel safe. It surprised him honestly. Jason had been playing hero since he was 12 years old. He had done nothing but try to save people or make life better for people as Robin (which backfired in his face, literally) and then as Red Hood. But here you were, giving him a shy look after your admittance, saying that Jason made you feel safe. Not Robin. Not Red Hood. Jason.

Jason Todd was a ghost in all sense of the word. Technically, Bruce had made him legally alive again and kept it quiet. There was no media story about the second son of Bruce Wayne no longer being dead and he was okay with that. He never liked the flashy life Bruce lived outside of the Bat and it’s not like they were always on good terms. Even both actually and legally alive Jason Todd was still a ghost. He haunted the streets of Gotham City, haunted the halls of Wayne Manor. He wasn’t a real person.

He was Red Hood. Didn’t have a life outside of it. Focused on saving people, helping people in Gotham and all across the world. until you. You with your queries about his books at the coffee shop (the only guilty pleasure he had). You with your nervous habits. You with your sweet smiles. You changed everything. He hadn’t gone out and around Gotham as Jason Todd since he came back from the dead. He didn’t realize how much of a tourist he was in his own city until he was taking you out. It didn’t matter though, because he wasn’t haunting these places. He was with you. He was alive.

He tuned out his thoughts to focus back on you. You looked worried doing that odd shift on your feet you do. He lets one urge go through and wraps his arms around your shoulder to pull you into a hug, nosing at your hair. A squeak escapes you, but you settle against him, hands moving up and down his back in a soothing manner.

“I lo-” Jason stops himself choking on his own words. His hands tighten slightly as he tries to regain control of his mouth.

“You mean the world to me, sweetheart.”

“You mean the world to me too, Jay.” Your voice is muffled against his shoulder but it’s the clearest thing he’s ever heard.

Jason keeps you there for much longer than necessary, just holding you, until that exhaustion from early creeps into his knees and he’s not sure he can stand much longer. He finally speaks up.

“I’d like to lay in bed. With you if that’s okay?” You pull back to look at him. Your hand comes up to hold his cheek, thumb caressing the scar there. It used to bother him, and it still does when other people stare, but you’re always so soft and sweet about it.

“Course it is, handsome. Whatever you need.” You say softly and a dumb smug feeling erupts in his chest. You only ever call him Jason, Jay, or, within the last week or so, bubs. He’s got a plethora of pet names for you but for you to reach out for something so pleasant… oh, you’ve ruined him.

****

You try to quickly usher Jason to your room because when you had pulled away, you thought he looked even paler than before. You shuffle into your bed and drag him with you settling against the pillows. You think he would be content with how you usually sleep, your cheek pressed to his shoulder, but he tosses and turns for what feels like thirty minutes. You finally sit up with a huff.

“Jason, what do you need?” he gives you a kicked puppy look, and you instantly feel guilty for how irritated you sounded.

“Sorry. You keep moving. How can I help?” He sits up next to you and gestures vaguely at you.

“Can I?” The gesturing and the question tell you nothing, but you trust Jason, so you nod. He gently pushes you down on your back and manhandles you to the middle of the bed. Then he’s hovering over you, legs tangled. You stare up at him, and you hate how your mind thinks of Red Hood. But Jason isn’t even staring at your lips. He’s concentrated on moving around some more. He pauses and meets your eye.

“Is this okay?” you nod because you can't find your voice, because you don’t actually know what he’s doing, because you're pretty sure you would let Jason do just about anything to you and wouldn’t mind. His arm sides under you, making your back arch. You wonder if Jason is putting you in an inherently sexual position on purpose or if you’re just aroused for some reason.

You get your answer (your just horny) when Jason finally lies done on top of you, you huff quietly, not prepared for it. He tucks his head under your chin, wiggles there a moment before finally settling down. You bring your hands up to settle on his back, one curling into the hair at the nape of his neck and he melts against you. It nearly makes giggle if not for the way he instantly becomes a dead weight on top of you, breathe evening. Thirty minutes of him rolling around and he’s out the moment he’s on top of you. Unbelievable.

You weren’t tired but his warmth and weight makes you drowsy. You try to fight, running your fingers through his hair. You give in eventually. Your sleep schedule was already shot. What’s an afternoon nap going to do?

Additional note: There was so much happening in this chapter, its crazy. also shout out to MagandaJinx on Ao3 for giving me the idea of the little old woman neighbor, she will be showing back up later. Anyways, I feel like I went off the rails with this chapter, so please give me some critics if you would like.

Tag List: @little-miss-naill, @nikilolo787, @joonunivrs, @uzxotic, @qardasngan, @stormz369, @g4bbi3xx, @iwatobiswimbros, @the-lonely-flute, @elz-xo, @gone-batty-fics, @princessesgarden, @notfckincreative, @love-theangel, @feyres-fireheart, @penguimlover23, @herodedicatedblog, @dearghostling, @automaticplant, @alma-ru3, @13fresh

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #do i know you?#kandywrites #fanfics-i-find-here

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fanfics-i-find-here · 2 months ago

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Do I know you? Part 19

Synopsis: the family comes to visit, and Jason is over it.

Note: I am currently on vacation for a wedding and this is the first time I’m using a tablet to edit and post. If it’s rough that’s way, anyway here you go!

masterlist

You’re not sure how long you sleep, but based on the dim light out your window, you think it's early evening. It had been cloudy and dark all day; now, it was just slightly darker but not pitch black. An overthought-out guess, but it was probably dinnertime if your rumbling tummy had any say in the matter.

Jason was still on top of you. Your body ached a little from not being able to move freely, but it was okay. There was something comforting about him being there, holding you (crushing you). It calms any wacked-out anxiety that usually comes to you when you first wake up.

He had shifted upwards just slightly. His head no longer pressed under your chin but more so laying on one of your shoulders. You turn your head to look at him as best you can. He’s still slightly lower. Your eyes meet the crown of his head, and your lips line up with his nose (it takes a stupidly long time to stop yourself from dotting a kiss there).

One of your hands comes up to thread through his hair, intent on waking him, your other hand moving up and down on his back, nails dragging along the fabric of his shirt lightly. With no luck, as usual, he shifts an inch and stays asleep. Your eyes follow the hand gliding through his hair, and both your hands pause. Your other hand comes to meet at his head, and you push his straggly bang hairs back to stare at the roots at the peak of his crown. You rub your thumb over it in disbelief.

White hair? That can’t be right. Jason wasn’t old; at least, he didn’t look it. The notion that Jason was old made you laugh quietly but you stop when Jason shifts again. Yes, you had wanted to wake him up earlier, but now you have a different plan. Your hands form a part in his hair, and you start scanning the roots before repeating the process. You hear that some people with dark hair can grey very early in life, assuming that’s what’s going on with Jason, you’re on the hunt for more white hair.

A forced puff of warm air against your neck makes you pause. Sensing no other movements, you continue. You’ve about come to the decision that the only place the white was on the top of his crown when you feel another forced breath across your skin, Jason's back moving with the press of it. You smooth back his bangs again so you can look at his face more.

“Are you awake?” You whisper. There’s silence for a moment before he responds in a weak, gravelly voice.

“No,” the answer makes you giggle. Your hands go back to what they were doing. You part the hair at the top of his head and follow the white till it disappears. It’s such a strange growth placement.

“What’re you doing, Monkey?” he grumbles, and you pull your hands from his hair. He lifts his head to blink at you. You notice his eyes are less green than they were earlier and think that they had been the wrong green.

“Why’d you stop?” Oh, how you love his voice like this. Deep and sleepy, just a little pleading, which was new.

“You called me a monkey.” You want to tell him that it’s rude and uncalled for, but you were picking through his hair. He snorts at your comments and shifts so he’s leaning over you, face to face. You’d squirm by the position if you didn’t think he’d notice.

“What? Not good enough for you? You want the other ones, Sweetheart? Babe? Honey? Sugar?” you can feel your skin warming everywhere with the way he coos at you, so sweet it’s nearly condescending. You do wiggle this time, just slightly, unable to stop yourself out of embarrassment for how easy you are. You see his eyes flit across your face, and you think he’s going to kiss you.

Then, there’s a loud banging. Jason is off you and heading for the door of your room before you can stop him. A shaky breath escapes you once you’re alone, one you didn’t know you were holding. The banging is still going, so, after you’ve calmed yourself, you follow Jason. He’s standing at the door, glaring at it with his hands on his hips. You get distracted staring at his back, well-defined by his t-shirt, before maneuvering around him.

“What is it? Are we being robbed?” You ask as you look through the peephole on the door. You see three warped heads, two black haired and one blonde. You have an easy guess as to who it was. Your hands start to undo the locks on the door. Jason's arm curls around your waist, and you’re tugged away from the door and turned to face him.

“I’m sure it's just a salesman or something. Let’s go back to bed.” You give him a questioning look.

“It’s literally your family.”

“Even more reason to leave them out there.”

“Jason,” you scold lightly and pull out of his hold and finish unlocking the door. An aggravated huff escapes him, and you glance at him. His arms are crossed, and he’s pouting. You laugh.

“Play nice,” you say, opening the door. The banging stops, and you’re greeted with a screechy “Hello!” from Steph as she drags you into a hug. Your eyes met Tim and Cass’s.

“We come bearing gifts,” Tim says as they both hold up bags of take-out food. Steph lets you go to welcome herself into your apartment, Tim and Cass follow.

“Jason?” You hear Cass question as you lock the door. You hear Tim speak up as you turn.

“Aren’t you supposed to be home?” the question sounds accusatory, nearly a threat. Jason glares at them, and you’re stuck glancing between him and his siblings. You shuffle around the staring contest to pull out plates.

“He was sick,” you say, setting the plates on the counter.

“Oh, we know all about that,” Stephs says with a teasing lilt that has you confused. “Doesn’t explain why he’s here?”

You glance at Jason because that was a good question. Why was he here? He doesn’t offer you anything, apparently having a silent debate with Tim. Cass is staring at you with a knowing look that nearly makes you panic.

“I needed his help with something,” you say, rushed, “or I thought I did, and it turned out I could’ve done it myself.” You don’t know why you’re covering for Jason. Maybe it was the way Cass was looking at you and now Steph, too. Like they knew that just minutes prior, Jason had been on top of you, speaking to you in ways that made you shiver.

“This is a nice jacket.” You startled out of your panic staring with the girls by Tim’s voice. You glance to see him holding up the sleeve of your leather jacket, the one Jason had gotten for you. It makes you smile and miss the pointed tone directed at Jason. Jason rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything.

“Thanks. Jay got it for me.” You say, and Steph chips in

“What could you possibly need a leather jacket for?” This time, you do catch the pointed tone, like this is a well-crafted joke that you’re not in on. Something you’ve noticed happens a lot if you have more than one of the siblings present. Although, you note that this is the first time you have been around all of the siblings you knew.

Jason huffs again and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him so irate before. He moves around his siblings and into the kitchen pulling out glasses and the lemonade you had made with him a few days prior. You watch him thinking he’s going to hop into the conversation, but he stays silent. At the sight of the lemonade pitcher, you open your mouth to tell him to stir it.

“Don’t forget to-” You stop when he’s already pulling out a wooden spoon and popping the lid. “Thank you.” Finish instead and return back to the conversation. Cass is eyeing you again.

“It’s for when I go on his bike with him.” The cacophony of takeout being served on plates halts and suddenly all three of them are staring at you and Jason, eyes flickering back and forth.

“What?” you ask, feeling the slightest bit uncomfortable, like you’ve done something wrong. Steph is the first to talk, pressing a dished out plate into your hands.

“It’s nothing; we’re just happy is all.” You glance over at Jason as she pulls you out of the kitchen and to the dining table. She pulls you into a conversation about something else, and you forget the whole thing.

****

As soon as you're mostly out of hearing, Tim and Cass are on him in whisper rage.

“Why didn’t you tell us you liked her that much?”

“I thought you had an ego issue over the jacket, but you’ve been taking her on your bike?”

“Are you dating?”

“We’re you two getting frisky before we got here?”

He shuts them down at the last question, even if it was semi accurate.

“We are not dating.” Is the only answer he gives them, finishing stirring the lemonade and pouring it into the glasses. He can feel their silent conversation, can feel their stare, and he hates it. He knew his family cared, but their sudden investment in his life was not something he wanted. He preferred it when they were standoffish, his presence making them uncomfortable because then they wouldn’t pry like this.

“Jason,” Cass speaks, “you need to tell her that you at least like her.”

He shrugs her off. “I don’t know what you're talking about.”

“Dude, you don’t let anyone ride your bike unless its an emergency,” Tim adds, and it makes Jason freeze. He wanted to argue that that wasn’t true; he let plenty of people ride his bike with him, but then he would be lying.

“Whatever,” he says as he hands them each a glass of lemonade, “just don’t say anything to her.”

They share a look before nodding, “Okay.” For some reason, their agreement makes his shoulders relax. He fills two more glasses and brings them to the table, setting one in front of Steph and the other in front of you. You pause in the conversation to look at him, grabbing at his hand to squeeze it.

“Thanks, bubs,” you say quickly before returning to your conversation. As he walks past Steph to go back to the kitchen, she gives him a look that he ignores. He makes his own plate, and when he returns to the table, Cass has already dragged a stool to the table to sit next to you, leaving him to sit by Tim and, regrettably, across from you (he would much rather be sitting next to you).

Steph is finishing telling you a story about the skiing trip she went on (a cover storyish; she and Tim had actually been on a mission with the Titans but still went skiing). Once everyone is settled at the table and eating, you broach a question for Tim. You don’t spend much time around him, but you want to be polite to your guest.

“So, Tim. How’s work? Data entry and all that, right?” you ask before taking a bite of food. Tim was stunned for a moment mid-bite. Steph giggles but settles down easily, and you assume she’s laughing at something else. Tim finally clears his throat.

“Right, yea, Work is good, just stupid bureaucracy stuff, you know.” He shrugs. Before anyone can add anything else, Jason gives Tim a disgruntled look.

“Data entry? What bullshit are you telling her?” His accusatory tone astounds you.

“I didn’t tell her anything! She just filled in the blank, and I didn’t correct her.”

“So you lied to her.”

“Like you don’t know all about lying.”

“I’m going to murder you.”

“Boys!” you cut in because you don’t think Jason was lying about the murder thing. “Would someone please tell me what’s going on?”

“Tim’s the CEO, kind of,” Cass offers nonchalantly, despite the important information she just shared.

“What? CEO of what?” you feel increasingly confused.

“Wayne Industries,” Steph says slowly. You eye her, waiting for more information. It never comes.

“What is that?” you ask, and they all stare at you. You shift in your seat, not loving the attention.

“Babe,” Jason’s voice is much softer than it had been when he was arguing with Tim, “You’ve lived in Gotham for nearly four years. You don’t know what Wayne Industries is?” His tone doesn’t fault you for not knowing. It’s just curious.

“You know, I didn’t know there was a zoo in Gotham until two weeks ago.” You remind him in confusion.

“Okay! Time for a breakdown!” Steph claps her hands, and Jason groans, “Wayne Industries was started, like, a bajillion years ago by the Waynes, ancestors to Brucie Wayne. It’s a billion-dollar company that has its fingers in everything. Bruce is Daddy Warbucks for these three, adopted them and all that. Nobody else wanted to stay in that family business, but Tim already had some experience because his parents, before Bruce adopted him, had a multi-million dollar company, so he took up the slack and is now like co-CEO or something like that. That being said, there is a Wayne Foundation Charity brunch coming up, and you should totally come; it would be so much fun.” She finally stops to breathe, taking a sip of her lemonade.

“I- huh?” you say, not out of confusion but out of shock. How did you not know that the few friends you had were the children of a billionaire?

“Sorry, we thought you already knew,” Cass says apologetically and honestly that’s fair. You should have at least put a guess out into the universe. Your mind goes back to the day a month or so ago when the girls took you out shopping. The lady had called one of them Miss Wayne, and you had gone to Tim’s car at Wayne Tower and heard all the random facts about the building from them because their DAD owned it. You really should have connected the dots.

You press your face in your hands. “Oh my god,” You groan.

“It’s okay. Now that you know all that, it makes the real reason we came over much easier.” Steph says as she pats your back sympathetically.

“The real reason?” you and Jason question at the same time. You peak through your fingers to meet his eye.

“Yeah, the real reason,” Tim confirms as he settles a white envelope on the middle of the table. Jason eyes it with disgruntled suspicion. You pick it up and open it to find an invite.

You are formally invited to the WAYNE FOUNDATION SPRING CHARITY BRUNCH

“Oh?” you say it as a question because you don’t know what else to do. You’ve never been invited to charity anything. You meet Jason’s eye again, and there’s a comforting look across his features, like he wants to reach out across the table.

“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to,” Cass tells you, and you break contact with Jason to meet her eye. She actually does reach out hand calmly placed on your shoulder.

“Totally, but it could be so much fun,” Steph adds.

“And you don’t have to worry about the charity bit; that’s just for all the richy people trying to make themselves look good,” Tim assures you, which is what you were actually worried about. Living in the area of Gotham you do was on the cheaper side, but not enough to be throwing donations at people.

“Okay,” you say with a finally nod, “I could use something different in my life.”

“That’s rude,” Jason scoffs and gap at his tone, but once you look at him, you think its out of jealousy. Cass’s hand had moved from your shoulder to hold your hand on the table, which you hadn't thought much about, but Jason was glaring at. You choose not to comment on it. You turn back to Steph and Tim; they have far too smug looks that you also choose to ignore.

“This is, like, a rich people thing, right? I don’t think I have anything to wear that would fit the setting.” At your words, Steph's smug look turns into a mischievous grin.

“Don’t you worry your little heart about that. We have the perfect spring dress for you, don’t we, Cass?” You turn to the other girl, and she’s sharing the same look. You so do not like it when they do this.

“What did you two do?” They both shrug at your question.

“I just told you not to worry about it.” Steph states before she goes back to eating. You once again met Jason’s eye. His eyes have a touch of sympathy, but overall, he genuinely seems amused, which makes you tap his foot under the table. He just rolls his eyes and taps your foot back.

If you had been paying attention to anything else in the room, you would have seen the look the other three occupants shared. One of agreements that what they had initially teased their brother about in a lighthearted manner was real. You two liked each other much more than friends, and if they try to help things along the way in the future, that's nobody’s business.

****

The rest of dinner went on with out much fanfare. A couple of stories shared (and a few more eye rolls from Jason) before they decide to head out for the evening. Tim and Steph make some lighthearted jabs at Jasons’s “sickness” and that he “needed to be careful not to spread it”. Jason had flushed lightly and smacked them both on the back of the head as he leaded them to the door.

“No violence in the apartment!” you had scold, and they had both given Jason a smug look about it. You had walked with Cass to the door, your elbows latched together. She spoke lowly as Jason argued with Tim and Steph.

“I know Jason’s been staying with you,” she says and your cheeks warm. Before she can continue, you throw in your own comment.

“We’re not doing anything,” she quirks a brow at your statement, “We just sleep better together.”

“It’s okay. Your good for each other. Just…” she hesitates and you don’t think you’ve ever seen Cass unsure in the time you’d known her, “don’t get too mad at him.”

The statement makes your brows furrow. You don’t ever get mad Jason. Well, you did once, and it was when he had left the seat up in the bathroom. You had woken him up in the middle of the night to get on him about it. He hadn’t done it since.

“Yea, sure. Unless he deserves,” you joke but her face is serious, “I won’t, Cass. Jason would never do anything to make me angry.” She purses her lips together and pulls you into a hug. She pulls away and follows Tim and Steph out the door, pausing to give Jason a kiss on the cheek. He seems startled by it but pats her on the shoulder with a smile. You give everyone a wave and Steph blows you kiss over her shoulder as Tim drags her away. Jason shuts and locks it. He sags and you hadn’t realized how tense he had been with his family around.

“You’re a saint, you know.” The comment makes you snort.

“What’s that make you, hmm? A devil?” he grins at you, and you suddenly remember what had been happening before his family first showed up. You feel warm again, heart pounding.

“Something like that. Can we go back to bed?” despite your own thoughts, there’s nothing salacious in his tone. He still looks tired.

“We just woke up like an hour ago and,” you glance at the now full kitchen sink, “there’s dishes.”

“There’s always dishes. I’ll wash them in the morning. Now please.” You nod in concession, and he doesn’t hesitate. Five steps forward and your suddenly over his shoulder. A screech escapes at you suddenly being hoisted in the air.

“Jason! Put me down!” he just laughs and carries you back to the bedroom. He unceremoniously drops you on the bed and you bounce. A moment of panic flushes through you that, maybe, he did want to continue whatever you two had going before everyone got there. Panic not because you think he’ll do something, but panic because you're not ready if he does do something. I need to shave, you think. All that washes away as he scooches you to your spot on the other side of the bed. He clambers back into bed and tugs you close. You throw an arm around his waist and nose at the base of his throat. He sighs, a nice quiet thing, and relaxes down into the mattress. Like before he’s out in a manner of seconds.

You stay awake longer, contemplating literally everything. You can’t tell if Jason is putting moves on you, if this is just how he is with all his friends, or if he has poor spatial awareness when it comes to your relationship. It’s fine, you reckon. You’ll still wait for him to do something. If he does you won't stop him but if he doesn’t, you’ll just keep doing what you're doing. He hasn’t shunned your affection so part of him must at least like it. It will be fine and everything will work out. Hopefully.

Additional note: I’m literally over them. This is one hundred percent a case where the characters are doing whatever they want. The bunch episode will probably be broken down into at least two chapters because I have a lot planned for that. The next chapter is not that. Next chapter is with the old lady, and I want to apologize now for it because I made her Italian who spoke very little English, which is fine, but I speak no Italian, so I used google translate. So, yea, sorry about that.

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #do i know you?#kandywrites #fanfics-i-find-here

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fanfics-i-find-here · 6 months ago

Text

Do I know You? Part 3

Jason Todd x Reader (no reader character this chapter)

Synopsis: Jason's family is far too nosey for their own good.

Notes: This chapter is a little different. I wanted to try Jason's POV and add the rest of the family. If any of them seem out of character, you’re probably right. Again, this was just an attempt to add a little drama to move the story forward and please enjoy.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Masterlist

Jason had experienced a lot of things in life, but he really hated family dinners. It’s not that he hated his family (only sometimes). It's that it always felt awkward. His guard was constantly up. He had wronged just about everyone in the room one way or another. Not that they ever physically showed repulsion towards him, he didn’t believe that they had forgiven him, not in the slightest. He just thinks they have all collectively decided if we don’t talk about things, they didn’t happen. Which was fine with him, but it apparently made himself less intimidating to them, considering how Dick was currently draped over his shoulder, yammering on about something that happened in Bludhaven.

“and then I said ‘That’s not a very nice thing-‘” Jason cuts him off.

“No offense, Dickwad, I don’t know what you're talking about.” He says gruffly, crossing his arms in front of him. He had been led into a trap he thinks. Dick had texted him and told him dinner would be at 5:30 tonight instead of the usual 6. He should have seen it as the red flag it was since Alfred usually calls him about family dinners. Dick promptly pouts and dramatically lays himself across the couch beside Jason.

“that’s so mean, little wing, I’m trying to tell you a story.”

“Yeah, a story you’ve told everyone, like, five times” Tim jumps into the conversation where he sits upside down on the couch with Steph playing an old-school Gameboy.

“TT, I agree with Drake and Todd. If you tell this story again, Grayson, I may choose physical violence against you.” Damian adds from where he sketches a charcoal drawing of Titus and Cass. Jason chuckles at the fact that both Damian and Tim agree with him, but his body stays tense, he takes periodic looks in the direction of the kitchen, willing Alfred to move quicker. He contemplates just going to help Alfred instead of staying here when he tunes back into the conversation.

“-no one else around,” Steph says not looking up from her phone in her upside-down position.

“you guys are no fun” Dick continues to pout as he sits back up, clearly not having gained an ounce of sympathy in his pose. He turns to Jason with a look in his eye that worries him.

“So, Barbara says you’ve stopped by Aparo Park a lot on your patrols. What's that about?”

Jason didn’t know his body could tense more than it already was. You lived two blocks from Aparo Park, and he had made a routine as of the last two weeks to check if you were home safe. Tonight was the first time he wouldn’t be stopping by. It's why he went to see you at the coffee shop and walked you home, to make sure you got there. He forgot that Oracle tracks everyone during patrol and silently curses her for sharing that information with Dick of all people.

“Changing up patrol” he answers casually and that should be enough. They all constantly change their patrol routes so it's harder for anyone to track their movements. Apparently, it's not enough because Steph perks up from her seat.

“Are you sure about that?” She questions with a smirk. Oh, she knows something. Dick had looked like he was going to drop it but at Steph’s comment, he leans back in.

“Not Patrol, then?” He looks at Jason expectantly and Jason pointedly ignores him to glare at Steph to keep her mouth shut. She just shrugs like she's not an instigator in this conversation. When Jason doesn’t speak up, Tim does.

“No, he's been seeing a girl.”

Jason seriously contemplates if it would be bad if he chose to beat Tim up again and drag him back to Titans Tower to make it real reminiscent of the old days when Jason was trying to kill everyone.

“A girl?” Duke interjected. He had been blissfully silent during the entire conversation, and Jason was hoping to keep him as a sibling he liked. Apparently, it would be just Cass and Damian who sat quietly as Damian sketched.

“Yeah, she's real pretty and she's a waitress at a bookshop,” Steph adds like Jason isn’t there.

“She's also not from Gotham, moved here like three years ago over some family drama,” Tim says, and Jason again resists the urge to strangle him.

“You’ve been Stalking her,” Jason states. So much for you only having one ‘Stalker’.

“So, it is a girl!” Jason turns to see Dick grinning widely. “I'm so proud of you little wing!” Dick looks like he's going to dive in for a hug, so Jason stands and ignores the “Oof” of Dick hitting the couch. He points a finger at Steph and Tim.

“Stop stalking her and don’t tell Dick anything.” He points at Duke, who hides a grin behind his hand. “You were doing so well man; you were on my favorite sibling list.” He drops his hand. “I'm going to help Alfred.” He turns and walks through a door and heads for the kitchen. As the door closes, he hears Dick screech, “You have a favorite Sibling list!”

He shakes his head as he walks down the hallway. So much for having a personal life. He doubts Steph had done any stalking, but he knows Tim tells her just about everything and she tells Cass everything, so Cass is definitely in the know too. But Cass also knows when to play the right cards. He was anxious to see when that would be. With Dick, you give him an inch and he’ll take a mile. There’s no doubt he's in there pestering Tim about the Details. Thank God Damian couldn’t care less about this stuff. He continues his way towards the kitchen when he meets Bruce in the hallway.

“Bruce” Jason says formally

“Jason” Bruce says in a similar manner. He pauses and then says “Your early”

“Yeah, well, that’s what happens with a manipulative family.” It comes out harsher than he means it to, but he's still peeved with his siblings. Bruce says nothing so Jason adds “I'm going to help Alfred.”

He doesn’t wait for Bruce to say anything as he continues to the kitchen. Part of him wants to kick himself for letting his emotions get the better of him. While he was tense with the family, things had been getting better and he didn’t want to break that good record because he got emotional over you. He just wanted something good (You) to be just his. But apparently, that was too much to ask.

As he entered the kitchen, the aroma of toasted tomatoes, warm cheese, cooked pasta, and basil overtook his senses. An undertone of melted chocolate and oven-baked cookies hidden underneath it.

“Master Jason, What pleasant surprise, you're early.” The soft tone of the older man draws Jason in. Apparently, Dick didn’t share his scheming with everyone. First Bruce and now Alfred. He wonders for a moment if they think he's trying to reach out or something, but he pushes down the thought.

“Dick’s fault.” He muttered. The way he says Dick’s name implies that he’s not using his actual name.

“Ah, Master Dick does like his way of things. Would you mind stirring the tomato sauce for me while I finish these Cookies?” Alfred asks. Jason moves to the stove. He knows it’s a simple task and one that could have waited until Alfred was done with the cookies but as always Alfred can read Jason in a way the rest of his family sometimes can't.

He stirs it quietly as Alfred works at the island. For a moment he’s reminded of a time before everything went sour. Back when he was Robin and it was just him, Bruce, and Alfred at the Manor, Dick was off doing his own thing. On days he didn’t have school, but Bruce still had to work he would shadow Alfred. The kitchen became its own sanctuary from the hero-ing lifestyle, (Since Bruce was banned from the kitchen after a microwave incident). He would sit at the counter and help stir whatever it was Alfred needed, always giggling as he stole licks and bites here and there. Looking back, he's sure Alfred was intentionally oblivious. The old man had a sharp eye, and he definitely knew. But Jason had been small, malnourished from his time living on the streets. Alfred always gave him what he thought was too large a portion.

“Are you alright?” Alfred’s voice shakes him from his thoughts.

“I’ll be fine.” He huffs out and then backtracks, turning to face Alfred. “I'm just a little upset. My siblings don’t know anything about privacy.”

“I presume this is in reference to your friend.”

Of course, Alfred knows. Jason rolls his eyes but responds quietly, “Yeah”

Alfred is silent before he responds.

“it's only because they care. You’ve come a long way, Master Jason, but you still have lengths to go, as do we all.” He says as he turns back to the cookie tray and places it into the oven. “I do hope, when you're ready, I will meet this girl.”

“Course, Alfred,” Jason says easily. Out of everyone in his family, Alfred would be the person he wants you to meet. Not that you two were anywhere close to that or heading in said direction. He’d barely had a number of short conversations with you, but he couldn't help but hope. There was just something about you that drew him in, and it had grown ten times when your life had been on the line.

Over the next ten minutes, he helped set the table and the food out, thankfully avoiding his siblings. But peace doesn’t last forever. One by one they slowly straggle into the dining room. In the time he had been gone, Barbara had gotten there. He’s almost prepared to share a few choice words with her but his conversation with Alfred stops him from saying anything out loud. It doesn't stop him from thinking it though.

Jason is thankful when Cass takes the seat next to him, but it lasts only so long as Dick takes the one on the other side. He waits expectantly for Dick to say something to him but is surprised when it's Cass that talks to him first.

“She would be good for you,” she says quietly and pats him on the arm. “You need to get her first.” And just like that the conversation is over as she starts dishing up her plate. Out of everything he had expected out of Cass, that wasn’t it. He stares shocked for a moment before Dick interrupts the moment.

“Am I on your favorite sibling list?”

“No”

“Why not?”

“Take a guess.” He answers as he serves himself some food.

Dick silents as the clattering of everyone getting food fills the space, along with the sounds of other personal conversations. After a moment Dick speaks up again more serious than before.

“I’m sorry, Jay. I didn’t mean to put you on the spot earlier, just wanted to check in with my baby brother.”

Jason lets out a sigh, “Alright, Dick, your forgiven. Besides you’re not the one stalking her.” He pointedly glares at Tim who only glances at him before going back to talking to Bruce.

“Now drop it.”

To Dick’s merit, he doesn’t say anything finally content with silence. The rest of dinner goes on without any more incidents. Bruce does his normal check-ins running down the line. Dick’s been chasing down a drug trafficking ring showing face in Bludhaven, Tim was planning a new mission with the Titans, Cass, Steph, and Barbara were planning a girl's day out with some of the other Birds of Prey, Duke had had a few slow weeks of day time patrol, and Damain went into a myriad of reasons on why he shouldn’t have to go to school. It was nice to just listen to everyone, living their own lives. When it came to Jason’s turn, he gave a quick rundown of the last three outlaw missions he’d dealt with. Nobody else commented on you, something he was truly grateful for.

At the end of the night, as everyone went their separate ways, Bruce pulled him to the side. He waited nervously to be berated about something. He couldn’t remember killing anyone recently, so it wouldn’t be that type of conversation. Bruce stared him down before setting a firm hand on his shoulder.

“I heard something about a girl.” Jason rolled his eyes. Of course, Tim told Bruce, the whole household knew now. Before Jason could speak Bruce continued.

“Don’t worry. I'm not here to pry. I just want to say I'm proud and I hope to meet her someday.” Bruce squeezed his shoulder before dropping his hand.

“Get home safe and we’ll see you on patrol.” With that, Bruce left him in the foyer. Jason stood shocked for a moment before making his way to his bike. Who knew his family could care and be so invasive at the same time.

Additional Note: Thank you to everyone who reads! I'm currently figuring out where I want this story to go in terms of plot because it feels like it should be going somewhere. This chapter was an attempt to get more characters and again if they feel out of character, they most likely are. I know more about fanon versions than canon versions. Thank you, Thank you, everyone! Someone did request a tag list, so I am creating one. You can ask to be added but if you have commented in the past I will just be adding you. If you would like to be removed please let me know!

Tag list: @little-miss-naill, @nikilolo787, @joonunivrs

#Do I know you?#jason todd x reader #Red Hood x reader #kandywrites #fanfics-i-find-here

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fanfics-i-find-here · 4 months ago

Text

Do I know You? Part 10

Jason Todd X Reader

Synopsis: Jason takes care of you.

Notes: I have seriously hyped up this chapter because I’m in love with it actually. It’s a very comforting moment after what our girl has just been through. She has one panic attack but it’s okay because Jason’s there. There is some semi-nudity but nothing sexual. This is very, very intimate(again not sexually though). Enjoy!!

Warnings: one Panic attack, semi-nudity

Masterlist

You pick at your hands, trying to scrap the blood from under your nails when your eyes catch movement, glancing up and dropping your gaze when you notice it’s a body bag. In a matter of minutes, you hear a familiar voice questioning several officers.

“Where is she? Is she okay?” You look up and spot Jason quickly following the commissioner towards you. For the first time in what feels like hours you stand up and take only a few steps forward before Jason is hugging you. He cradles the back of your neck avoiding your head. His other hand takes to gently sweeping up and down your back. A well of emotions exploded from your chest and your sobbing again, Jason’s shirt becoming wet with it. Despite the jacket and blanket on your shoulders, you’re suddenly aware of how cold you still feel as you press your face to the warm skin on Jason’s neck. If he thinks you feel like an ice cube, he doesn’t complain

He quietly coos at you, whispering soft calming words. You zone back out again, only focusing on Jason holding you as he slowly leads you to a car. The commissioner stops and talks to him for a moment and if you were more conscious you may have questioned it more.

“Be Careful. Red Hood was here, and she lived to talk about Penguin. News travels fast in Gotham. We don’t want bodies piling up again.” He gives Jason a meaningful nod before returning to police duties. Jason shakes his and continues to guide you to a car (a quick borrow from Bruce out of hidden garage in the area). Even when Jason was Robin, he always had the feeling that the commissioner knew everything about the family’s nightly activities and that for the sake of his own job never vocalized anything about it. Comments like these felt like they proved that point.

Jason takes his time leading you, mindful of icey patches. Your absent stare from earlier was still present and it worried him. He had attempted to wipe as much blood off of you with the sparse medical supplies he had in his belt. Gauze were used to soak up the blood and wipe you clean, but he didn’t want to hurt you by wiping too hard. Streaks of now dried blood remained on your arms, but your face seemed clearer and your nose was no longer bleeding. He was sure you were very uncomfortable.

He opened the passenger door and helped you slide into the seat. You tense as you sit back, and he can only assume you’re a little more hurt than the mild concussion he was told about. You sit passively in the seat, making no move to do your seatbelt. He squats down and slowly reaches for the seatbelt, pulling it over your lap. However, your hands stop him. You look up to meet his eyes. There’s a pleading look there but he’s unsure what about. He glances back down at your hands and follows the line to your wrist. He can see it now. You had been tied up. Your wrist, redder than the other exposed parts of your skin. He had thought it was more blood. Now a slow bruising started to show on your skin, darkening slowly. He understands the pleading look and doesn’t fight you over the seatbelt, letting it slide back into place.

“You going to get me in trouble, sweetheart. The cops are right there.” He says softly and he feels like his chest is going to crack open when you give him a weak smile. He stands and your hand latches onto his. He remembers the panicked look you had given Red Hood when he said he had to leave. He has never wanted to carve his heart out and give it someone more than he did in that moment. He knew you had abandonment issues. Way back when this thing you two have had started, you thought he wasn’t going to come back, and he’s seen you have same thought process a few different times. It hurt that he had to be part of the problem. Red Hood had to be part of the problem. Jason, however, was not going to let you feel like that.

“I’m just going to walk around to the driver’s side. You can watch me through the windows.” He offers and your hand slowly loosens up and settles in your lap. He closes your door and moves quickly around the car and into the driver’s seat. He starts the car and blasts the heat. He hadn’t missed how cold your face was pressed against his neck and your hands were the same when you grabbed him. It worried him, like everything in the past four hours had. He gently slides his hand around your nearest hand, squeezing at your frozen fingers and trying to get you to look at him. Your head moves sluggishly but you finally meet his eyes. Your own are bloodshot but you look nearly cried out and on the brink of a well-deserved nap.

“I need to know where you live so I can take you home.” He says, gently massaging your hand. You stare at him but still have consciousness for the barest of warmth to flutter across your cheeks. You had hoped that maybe you would move before you brought Jason to your home. Then you wouldn’t have to admit that he had been parking in front of your building, and you had lied about living further down. You don’t have the energy to be embarrassed now.

“It’s where you park.” You murmur looking away from him. You focus on his hand holding yours. Warm, sturdy, present. He was here. He was real. He was taking care of you. He doesn’t question what you mean, briefly letting go of your hand to put the car in drive before holding your hand again. You easily lay your head against his upper arm, mindful of your twinging back. The car is quiet as he drives, and your eyes flutter closed for what feels like a second before he’s gently nudging you. He’s parked in the same spot he always does, and a moment of awareness crosses your mind that you’re in a car not on a bike. He’s out the door and you’re cold again. But he’s back at your side in seconds, helping you out of the car and up the steps into the apartment building. He guides you to the elevator and you finally sense hesitancy in his movements. You press the 6 for him and settle your weight against his side, sleepiness calling to you again. The elevator dings and it takes him pressing a hand to your lower back for you to start moving again.

You walk dazed and come to stand at your door, staring at the knob. You didn’t have your keys. They were in your bag, and you had lost that. Jason’s hand comes into your line of vision along with your keys. He tries a couple on the chain before the one for your door meets the lock. You only stare in confusion. He opens the door and must sense your hesitancy.

“They found your bag and keys at the warehouse.” He states before his hand is on your elbow, gently pulling you forward. He closes the door and moves around you pulling the shock blanket and leather jacket from your shoulders and helping you take off your shoes. You shiver and he’s quick to rub at your arms.

“We should get you clean.” Your face scrunches because all you want to do is sleep. His thumb gently rubs at your cheek. “Trust me. It’ll help you feel better in the morning.” He tugs you again, more into your apartment and down the hallway towards your bedroom and bathroom. He turns on the light for the first door and leads you to sit on the toilet in the bathroom. He kneels in front of you with a hand on your knee.

“You want a bath or a shower?” He asks. You stare at him blankly, the terrors of the night starting to creep in your mind. You choose to focus on him, his features, his touch. Your hand comes up and you press the tips of your fingers against the scar on his cheek, following the line of it. He breathes in a strange way that you’ve never heard from him.

“How ‘bout a bath? I don’t think you could stand long enough for a shower.” You nod at his thought process, still focused on his skin. His hand comes up to hold at your wrist, pulling your hand away to rest in your lap again. He stands to turn on the faucet of the bathtub. Soon the room begins to feel warm and humid.

“I’ll be right outside the door if you need anything.” Your hand shoots out to grasp at his tightly despite your weakened state. He doesn’t flinch, just kneels back down in front of you.

“What is it?” He speaks softly, with all the concern in the world and it eats at your chest. You don’t want to be alone; you need someone present.

“Please,” your voice wobbles and you hate it, “don’t leave.”

“I’m going to be just outside the door. I want to give you some privacy.” He says, pushing at your hair. You don’t listen because all you can think about is how Red Hood left you out on the street and you don’t think you could deal with that heartache right now. You stare at him with all the energy you have, hoping he’ll understand. He concedes with a sigh.

“I’ll close my eyes.” He says and your blank stare returns because you’re not cognitive enough to understand what he’s saying. “To undress.” he adds, glancing at the water filled tub. You follow his line of sight, remembering you were in this room for a purpose. You lift your arms slightly and wince. The ache in your back and head doubling at the movement. You hadn’t reached for your shirt, so Jason hadn’t closed his eyes.

“Do you want help?” he asked carefully. Your eyes meet his and you search, worried you’d find that same lustful gaze that the other man had. Jason’s eyes held no such malice. There was no spark of an opportunity to get an eyeful. He just looked concerned. The same kind Jason you’ve been slowly falling for. You nod slowly, with a little shame that you can’t undress yourself.

Jasons hands move slow. They hover over your thighs before settling on your hips. His warm hands skim under the hem of your top and settle against the skin above the waistband of your pants. You watch him and he watches you. You keep waiting for the ball to drop, waiting for a glimmer of want in his eyes. It never comes.

“Is this okay?” he asks and your heart aches from the gentle way he speaks and holds you. You nod, swallowing harshly around the knot in your throat. He guides one side of the shirt up, mindfully keeping his hand off of your skin. He helps you pull your arm out of the shirt, apologizing when you wince. He repeats the process on the other side and finally slides the shirt over your head. You’re wearing a ratty, old bra and feel a little embarrassed for a moment but Jason’s eyes never drift from your face. His hand still holds one of yours. He stands and tugs you with him.

“Think you can do your pants?” he asks.

Your voice shakes as you respond, “yea.” You drop your eyes to the buttons on your jeans. You tug them down your hips, keeping your underwear in place. You feel the heat of his hovering hand next to your arm. As you push the pants to your knees you start to lose your balance, blood rushing to your head from being momentarily upside down. Jason’s quick to steady you, like always. You stand back up. He doesn’t say anything as you blink away the dizziness. You think you should feel ashamed that you can’t take care of yourself at the moment but Jason’s face holds no judgement. You want to cry again from the tender care in his eyes.

“Will you?” you ask quietly. He nods and kneels back down. Despite where his face would meet if he looked forward, he keeps his head ducked respectfully. Eyes on your pants he tugs them past your knees and to your ankles. He taps one of your knees and you press your hands to his shoulders, not wanting to lose balance, as you lift your leg. He repeats the process on the other leg and your jeans join your shirt on the corner of the bathroom. He gives your calf a tender squeeze before he’s standing again, eyes on your face.

“Okay?” he asks

“Yea” your answer is weak, and it has nothing to do with the events prior to the apartment. His ever-gentle hands help you into the tub. You hiss slightly from the heat of the water, body still fairly cold. You sit down and pull your knees to your chest. You rest your cheek against your knee as you watch him ruffle through your cabinets. You feel weepy again, out of gratitude instead of fear, as he comes back with a wash clothe and the cup you use to rinse after you brush your teeth. He settles them on the edge of the tub.

“You should lay back. The heat might help with your back a little bit.” He says as he sits criss cross next to the tub. You nod and slowly tip back, the heat slowly creeping up your back does feel nice. His hand is suddenly at the base of your skull, and you don’t understand why until you rest against his hand and the tub itself. A tickling of pain shoots through your head no doubt dampened by the cushion of his hand. You had a concussion. At least someone remembered. Your eyes slide shut, and you will your body to relax in the heat for a minute.

After a few minutes Jason begins to worry that you had fallen asleep, in the tub of all places. If this had been literally any other situation, he would be losing his mind. You were practically naked in a tub of water. Any other guy would be taking advantage of eyeing you up and he would be too, in a very, very different instance. But he would never do that to you, especially after the night you had. He watches your face and even though the rest of your body seems to have relaxed in the water, your features twitch. Laying in the tub against his hand probably was not the most comfortable position for your injuries. He rubs at your hair where his fingers rest.

“Feeling any better?” He asks you to which you respond in kind with a nod. He is a little worried that he can only get nods and short answers from you but he’s sure you’re exhausted.

“We should get you clean and into your much more comfortable bed.” Your eyes flutter open as he presses you up. Your hand wraps around his other arm that was resting on the edge of the tub as you lift yourself. You curl back in yourself, knees dragged up again. He eyes all the bottles in your shower. He’d rather get what remained of the blood off of you and call it a night, but you had blood in your hair too and a simple rinse wasn’t going to do the job. He finally finds a shampoo bottle. He picks up the cup he found on the counter and scoops up a cup full of water and dumps it on the back of your head. Your neck straightens as you turn to look at him. He can’t read your expression, and it drives him crazy. The entire night you’ve had a blank face, like you don’t have the energy to emote.

“I’m gonna wash your hair, okay?” You stare at him a little longer before turning your head forward and tipping it back. He takes it as your agreement, scoops up some more water and dumps it around the hair faming your face. He squirts a very generous amount of shampoo in his palm. Your lip quirks as you watch him from the corner of your eye. He’ll take it as a win even though he doesn’t know what’s amused you. You turn your head so you’re facing the wall, and he has clear access to the back of your head. He rubs the shampoo in a lather and starts to gently run it through your scalp. He takes his time at the top, working down. Your shoulders tense as his fingers circle near the bump on the back of your head. He works around it and then rubs the shampoo into the lengths of your hair. He hears you sniffle quietly but doesn’t question it. He takes his cup and gently rinses the soap, gently turning your head this way and that way, careful not to get soap on your face. He spots a body wash and soaks the washcloth he had found before rubbing that.

You watch him with sleepy eyes as he turns your face towards him and rubs gently with the corner of the rag. For a moment your mind flashes to Red Hood with whatever material he was using to get rid of the blood that had been harsh against your skin. You push the thought aside once again focusing on Jason. His face concentrated. He was handsome, rugged and regal looking all at once. The rag is settled on your knee once he seems pleased with the soap on your face. His hand dunks in the water and then he’s gently caressing your face. Your eyes shut as he wipes at your forehead and down your face, carful touches at your eyes and brushes at your neck.

He pulls your arm from where you hold your leg, and the rag is off your knee. He moves it up and down your arm, starting at your shoulder. You watch as the previously dried blood wipes off easily. He soaked you like a dirty pan. The thought makes a quiet giggle start in you. Jason gives you a strange look and then you can’t stop. You erupt in heavily laughter and tears spring up in yours. It only takes a few seconds but laugh changes to gasped breaths, a harsh weight on your chest. Tears stream down your cheeks again but you’re barely conscious of it because you can’t breathe.

You barely register a harsh squeeze on your knee before there are hands on your face. Thumbs rub at the skin on your cheek, and you can barely make out the blob that is Jason through your blurry vision. You try to focus on him. Your hand wraps around one of his wrists and your nails dig into his pulse point as you try to ground yourself. His voice filters into your ears.

“Breathe, Sweetheart, you’ve gotta breathe. Come on.” His free hand grabs your own and presses your flat palm to his chest. You can feel his heart beating and his chest moves as he breathes. You try to copy him with a stuttering gasp. You slowly become conscious of your surroundings again. His thumb on your cheek. The water you sit in slowly turning warm instead of hot. The hum of the bathroom fan. Your breathing slows but your grip on his wrist remains firm.

“There you go, atta girl. Just keep breathing” You lean against Jason’s hand and close your eyes focusing on his breath and your own. If you thought, you were exhausted before you were wrong.

You desperately need sleep Jason decides. He thinks that’s why you had the panic attack in the first place, exhaustion and stress over taking your sense. He coaxes you to release the grip you have on his wrist so he can clean that arm. You keep a grasp on his shirt though. He rinses you off as quick as he can. He does a once over to make sure you’re as clean as he could get you at the moment. Your wrists have bruised up and there were scraps on your knuckles. Some minor first aid would be smart, but it would have to wait til morning. He pries your hand from his shirt and holds it in his as he reaches back and tugs a towel from its rod. He pulls the plug from the drain and pulls you stand. You’re weak and leaning on him as he helps you step out of the tub. The front of his shirt soaked from where you lay. You shiver and he wraps the towel around you. He gives you a harsher than necessary rub but he’s trying to keep you awake long enough to change into dry underwear and warm pajamas.

He guides you out of the bathroom and into the bedroom and sits you down on your bed. It’s different than the last time he had been in there as Red Hood. No messy piles of clothes, only the cleanliness he was use too. He picks though your drawers and pulls out some fuzzy matching pajamas and he tries not stare at your underwear draw too long. He sets the clothes next to you. He wonders if you’ve fallen asleep sitting up, your eyes closed. He taps at your shoulder and your eyes open, half-lidded.

“Clothes” he offers. You nod but make no move. He remembers your struggle with your shirt. He slips the pajama top over your head as you stare at him. He pulls your hair from where it’s tucked. He pauses before he tries for your arms. You still had a wet bra on. He couldn’t let you sleep in that.

“You need take your bra off.” He tries to be delicate but there’s no way around it. You blink at him. He stares back. Theres a pause before your arm bends back awkwardly and you wince. Jason face scrunched in confusion. You stop your movement and stare at him.

“I can’t” He understands now. What idiot put the bra clasp in the back he didn’t know. He climbs on the bed behind you. He lifts the back of your shirt slightly and stares at the clasp. Jason would hate to admit it out loud, especially to you considering whatever your relationship was, but he had never taken bra off of a girl. This was the first time he was up close and personal to one and he wishes it was under different circumstances. He leans to look closer at it and pulls it off your skin. He folds it slightly and sees the hooks. After a minute he finally gets it undone and you easily slip it off of your shoulders. He pulls the shirt down and pulls your arms through the sleeves, careful not to touch any unnecessary skin.

He stands in front of you again. You still have that dazed, sleepy look in your eye but you still have the towel settled around your hips. He sighs

“Sweetheart, I can’t help you with this one.” You squint at him. He glances at the towel, and you follow his line of site. You nod in understanding. You pat at the bed until you find the pair of clean underwear. You pause before moving the towel and look at him, waiting. He gets the message, turning around, closing his eye and covering them with his hand for good measure. He hears you shuffle around the bed, no doubt sitting to change your bottoms instead of standing.

“Okay” you say, sounding out of breath and exhausted. When he turns around, you’re laid back on your bed, legs dangling over the edge and eyes closed. Your undergarments are nowhere in sight so he can only assume you threw them somewhere.

“Don’t fall asleep yet. Let’s get you under the covers.” He says. Your face scrunches like you’re going to whine about it, but you let him gently man handles you up and under the covers of your bed. By the time he has you tucked in your fluttering between awake and asleep, eyelids staying closed longer than open. His hand presses at your face tenderly and then the warmth of it is gone. Your eyes open to see him drifting to the door.

“Wait,” you call out weakly. He pauses, turning back towards you, you can see a fond look cross his face while he waits for you to speak. “Stay, please” you scoot over in your queen-sized bed. It was large enough you could span out eagle style, but you get the feeling it may be too small for Jason. You just didn’t want to be alone. He concedes without complaint, laying on top of the covers beside you. You turn on your side, curling in on yourself and against him. Your hand pops out from under the covers and curls around his forearm, his own mimics you. You close your eyes and carefully press your face against his arm.

“Thank you” you murmur, already drifting in unconsciousness. He doesn’t say anything, but you feel him squeeze your arm before you’re completely out.

Additional note: Yea so I love him. I hope the comfort lives up to what guys wanted after the last chapter. Also, I would like to apologize, I told a bunch of people it would be out Saturday, and I am posting it Sunday morning. I had COVID all of this last week, stuck in my apartment by myself. So obviously the days don’t exist. Anyways sorry about that. Also the amount of times I had to walk away because I felt like I was witnessing someone else's private moment was insane. Thank you for reading and for loving on this series.

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #do i know you?#kandywrites #fanfics-i-find-here

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fanfics-i-find-here · 5 months ago

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Do I Know You? Part 9

Synopsis: You get kidnapped. It’s Red Hood’s Fault. He doesn’t save you.

Note: alrighty, the votes for a darker chapter won at about 60%, which I am lowkey grateful for because I had half this chapter already written and I did not want to rewrite it. This does have themes of kidnapping, sexual assault, violence, gore, and death. Everything, aside from the kidnapping, are in the cut areas with ---- as a separator. Also for the sake of the plot, we are going to see a divide between Red Hood and Reader and it’ll all start from this chapter forward.

Warnings: Kidnapping, Sexual Assault, Violence, Gore, Death

Masterlist

A month passes by quickly, mild late fall turns into an ice cold winter. While you had been irked when Red Hood called you a tourist, he had been right. Jason planned multiple trips all across the city to see things you hadn’t in the three years you had been there. Astounding gothic architecture, beautiful museums, and picturesque sunrises on the bay. Every week he would take you to do at least one thing but there still hadn’t been a conversation about whether or not these were dates. You didn’t want to ask for fear of embarrassing yourself.

You had to mentally replace your jar with something bigger when you noticed Red Hood was missing his signature leather jacket the next time you saw him—Jason’s brown jacket resting against the back of your couch. You hated how your mind drew similarities and coincidences between them, but you just couldn’t, you wouldn't believe they were the same person. Jason treated you kind of like a princess. He was always prepared with whatever you needed with kind words and a handsome grin. Red Hood was the opposite, haphazardly showing up and quickly disappearing, a wicked smirk on his lips as he teased you about one thing or another. They just could not be the same person. Red Hood had his jacket back after you had returned Jason his. You ignored it.

In the attempts to distract your over-imagination, you would take up some spare shifts at Jackie’s. As winter drew in the sun started going down sooner, meaning you ended up walking in the dark quite a bit. Today was the first time you stayed til closing. Walking home at 10 o'clock at night in Gotham City probably wasn’t your best plan.

It’s a short walk! You had argued with yourself. You should call Jason, another part of you offered. It’s fine, nothing bad will happen, the ignorant part of you said. And you listened to her like an idiot. You were about a block from your apartment when you heard footsteps following you. A number of regrets run through your head at the sight of another person across the street walking at the same pace. You pick up speed and then abruptly stop as someone else steps out of an alley in front of you. You pull your purse off your shoulder. You were bound to get mugged eventually.

“Listen, man, you can just have it. I don’t need it.” You say offering up the bag.

A coarse laugh escapes the man in front of you, “we’re not here for the bag, sweetheart”

You feel a disgusted shiver shake down your spine. Sweetheart was Jason’s pet name for you and to hear it come out of someone else’s mouth and with such a crude tone made you want to throw up. The implication of his words filter through your mind and the bile does begin to grow in your throat. Panic rises in your mind as you try to remember what you're supposed to do. Scream something, but what was it? Any self-defense videos you have seen escape your mind. What do you do? What do you do? Instinct takes over and you turn around to run, unsuccessfully. You run right into someone, and they grab you by the collar of your jacket. You wack haphazardly at their arms, dropping your bag. They don’t even shift so you kick. You hear a grunt of pain, but your victory is short-lived when they suddenly shove you back against a building. Your back aches at the impact but you're going to go down fighting. You push off that wall with balled fists but you’re harshly pushed back against the wall. The back of your head flairs up in pain and your world goes black.

Jason was a little disappointed when he got to your apartment that evening. In the months that he’s been coming around you always had your window unlocked during your designated time slot. Not this time. You’ve locked him out and he didn’t know why. He peeked in the window as best he could. Strange. You kept fairy lights in your living room, and he noticed that they were always on when he came around. It gave a nice comforting glow to the space. They were not on right now. It could be that you were sleeping but something felt… wrong.

Please don’t hate me for this, he thinks as he starts to slowly break open the lock on the window. Your silent alarm would go off and your phone would start to ding so it should wake you. Maybe this is just a good test of that janky alarm system he got from Roy. The window popped open easier than he would have liked but he had better skills than most casual burglars. He opens the window and steps into the living room, listening. Not a sound.

She’s just sleeping, he tells himself, she’s fine. He creeps to your open bedroom door and finds your bed perfectly made, no sign of you. A rock of worry hits Jason square in the chest. He’s quick to search the rest of your apartment like he would find you hiding in a closet. Where is she?

Jason doesn’t hesitate to start a search. You rarely go anywhere unless you're with him so you must be working, or you were. It was nearly midnight, there was no way Jackie’s was open. He’s out your window and following along your usual route, scanning for any sign of you. He thinks you would have known better than to walk in the dark, that you would at least call Jason, so you were on the phone with someone. He would have come and picked you up or something. You could not have been that stupid. He nearly misses it in his rush to get to Jackie’s hoping beyond hope that you were still there but pushed up against a building he sees something. It could be nothing. The streets here aren’t exactly trash-free but he stops to check it out anyways. He stoops to pick it up and his heart drops to his stomach. It was a bag. It was your bag. Where were you?

That was the exact question you were asking yourself when you woke up. It smelled musty and gross. Your head was pounding, and a continuous ache throbbed from your back. It took you a moment to remember what happened. You go through a quick body checkup. Head? Hurting. Back? Also hurting. Wrists? Burning from the tight rope. A flash of gratitude runs through your body when you find nothing else hurts. They hadn’t done anything to you other than kidnapping. You finally make the painful effort of opening your eyes. You wince and squint despite the dim setting you're in. You’re in some kind of warehouse. You think you might hear the ocean but that could just be whooshing in your ears. It takes you a moment before your eyes adjust and you notice a man watching you. He’s short and fat, in a fancier suit than you think is necessary for the setting. A monocle sits over one of his eyes.

“Finally awake? I’m sorry for the unpleasantries,” He says voice a nasally thing, “I usually try to treat my guests with more class than this.” He steps more into the light in a strange waddle.

“But I had to make sure my men got you before your boyfriend showed up.” Your brain glitches at his words. Boyfriend? You don’t have a boyfriend.

“Now we can talk in peace.” He continues with a grin, and you wish he would stop, teeth slightly sharp and rotting, “Now I need you to tell me where his hideouts are.”

You’re quiet, trying to take in all the information you can through the pain in your head.

“What?” is all you can muster.

“Don’t make us do this the hard way, girl. I just want information on your boyfriend, then I’ll let you go.” He grins at you again and you don’t think he's going to let you go.

“I don’t have a boyfriend.” He cackles in a strange clattering way that you think you would laugh at in different circumstances.

“You sure about that. Think harder. You two have been spending an awful lot of time together.” He offers. Only one thought filters through your head. Jason.

You realize in a span of ten seconds that you don’t know some important things about Jason, like what he does for a job. Have you been hanging out with a criminal? Wait, he’s still not your boyfriend.

“He’s not my boyfriend. Actually, I don’t even know that we're dating.” You admit and then you continue, mouth getting ahead of your mind, “I mean we’ve definitely been on something you would call a date, but you could also call it a hangout between friends. We just never talked about it, and I think it might be too late to talk about it. What if he doesn’t see me like that? Like he wants us to just be friends but then it'll be awkward because now he knows that I don’t think of him as just a friend. That would be terrible. I don’t want to lose him. He's so nice to me.”

Throughout your rant the man's face drops from his proud grin to an irritated look.

“Quiet, girl!” he snaps, and you shut your mouth, “Where is he hiding out?”

“I don’t know. I don’t even know where he lives but he doesn’t know where I live either so it's okay.”

“But he does know where you live.” A look of confusion crosses your face, “He’s been coming into your window.” The man offers and your face grows even more confused. Maybe it’s the headache but you're not sure you're talking about the same person.

“Who are we talking about?” you finally ask.

“Red Hood! We’re talking about Red Hood, girl. Now tell me where his safe houses are.” He says exasperated, waddling closer.

“I don’t know, honestly.” You lean back in the chair you’re tied to. “He’s definitely not my boyfriend. I don’t even know who he really is, he just eats my food.”

You notice how cold it is, your jacket missing, as the man stares at you with a disgusted grimace.

“Please I don’t know anything just let me go.” It’s a last plea because you're pretty sure you're going to die tonight but at least you can say you tried. Apparently, he takes your word for it.

“You're dumber than you look, girl. Walking around at night alone, feeding a vigilante. Shame for a pretty face like yours to go to waste.” He waddles over to a door and knocks on it. The man from earlier appears in the doorway.

“She’s knows nothing, you twat. Do what you want with her but make sure she’s with the fishes before the night’s over.” At his words, your panic from earlier in the night returns. You start to squirm trying to tug yourself free and ignore the painful aches of your body. The stubby man leaves, and you're stuck with the man of your nightmares.

-----Sexual assault, gore, and death coming up-----

A wolfish smirk appears on his lips as he pulls out a knife. You want to scream and cry and throw up. But most of all you want to live. You think about Jason and how he was supposed to take you to the oldest ice cream parlor in Gotham. You have to live. Survive. You repeat the mantra in your head as the man moves behind to cut the rope. Survive. Survive. You have to survive. The moment the rope loosens you’re out of the chair scrambling to the still-open door. You hear the man make a shocked sound. You run down a hallway and pause just for a moment as the hallway splits. It was just a moment, but it was too long. The man crashes into you pushing you up against the wall. A yelp escapes you, the ever-present pain in your body erupting. He turns you around and you gag at the predatory smile he wears.

“They always run.” He says and you feel him start to grope you with his hand not holding the knife. A sob of despair breeches your throat and then your mantra returns to your mind. Survive. Survive. You have to survive. You were not going to die like this, and you were not going to let him touch you like this either. You press your head into the wall as far as you can ignore the pain of it and jerk your head forward. A new pain blooms across the bridge of your nose but the man groans and trips backward on his own feet. Spots dance in your eyes but you hear the clatter of the knife from his hold. Survive. Survive. You spot the knife on the ground and dive for it. Your fingers wrap around it just as the man wraps his hand around your ankle and yanks. Your knuckles scratch on concrete but you maintain your hold on the knife.

“You little bitch” his grip moves up your calf and you follow your instincts. You turn and stab blindly with the knife. A scream erupts from him, but you don’t let your mind think beyond survive, survive. You stab madly. It takes you a moment before you realize he’s not moving anymore. Your eyes are blurry. You hadn’t noticed you started crying. Your throat feels sore, like you had been screaming. Your eyes clear for just a moment to see what’s left of the man's chest. You turn quickly fighting another gag. Survive, survive. You had to get out of here. Your hand tightens on the knife, and you ignore the warm, slick sensation now in between your fingers. You move quickly jogging down the hallway as you look for a way out. You don’t hear anyone else in the building. You make it to a large open area and see a door.

Please be a way out. You walk as you feel your adrenaline drop. The pain in your body returns tenfold. You keep reminding yourself that you are not safe yet. That you have to get out. You remind yourself why. Your ice cream with Jason, Darla was going to bring her granddaughter for you to meet, along with a lineup of things that you wanted to do. You had to live. You feel a hand on your shoulder and your adrenalin spikes again. Your grip tightens on the knife, and you turn and swing it. Your wrist is caught in a solid grip before it can impact anything. Not like this. You scream as you try to pull away from whoever was holding you. Your body drops hoping the dead weight will make them let go. You feel yourself sob with exhaustion as you continue to fight. Then you hear your name repeated a few times until it becomes clearer to ringing ears. Slightly robotic in nature, your blurry eyes finally make out a shiny red shape.

“It’s okay, you’re okay. I’ve got you. Your safe” he repeats over and over again. Red Hood. A sob of relief escapes you and your body sags against him, all the fight gone in a matter of seconds. You find no comfort in pressing your face to his chest, cold hard armor the only thing greeting you.

Jason had been a flurry of commotion once he had found your purse. He called Barbara, not even checking for a private line (the whole family had unintentionally listened in), and begged her to find you. She already knew your usual route (of course) and she threaded through the camera in the area. You had left Jackie’s around 10 o’clock and she was able to follow you for about a block from your apartment before you vanished. She couldn’t find anything suspicious in the area. She asked Jason if your phone had been in the bag. Luckily it wasn’t. While Jason had impatiently paced waiting for Oracle to do her work, Steph hopped into the conversation.

“She’ll be okay, Red Hood. We’ll find her.”

Jason had only offered a scoff at the comment to hide the fear he felt.

“Keep us posted. We’re ready to help if you need it.” Jason was shocked to hear Bruce’s voice over the coms. Despite the tense relationship with his father, Jason feels a sense of calm knowing his family was as ready to save you as he was.

Barbara had pinged your phone only a few miles north of where he was, over by the docks on the river. An old, abandoned warehouse district. She said that you or at least your phone wasn’t moving, and he was quick to head in that direction. She reminded him that the entire family was on call in case he needed help before he silenced his coms. He followed none of his years of trained procedures for something like this. Didn’t check the outside for anybody lurking and didn’t get a scan of the building to know how many people there would be. He just needed to find you. If you were hurt or worse. He didn’t know what he would do with himself. He heard the sound of a vehicle leaving and quickly found a broken window. He slipped in and found himself in what could only be the “offices” of whatever the warehouse used to be. He pulls out his guns ready for a fight and slowly follows one of the hallways. Instead of a fight, Jason is shocked to find a dead man. The chest ripped open; from a knife Jason decides. Whoever did this didn’t have much thought in it. Blood splattered across the wall. Jason only hoped that whoever did this hadn’t gotten to you.

He continues on the path he was on and quickly finds he’s following the blood trail from the body. Random drops of blood on the floor, likely dripping from the knife, held down not up. Whoever had it wasn’t planning on using it on the current path. He keeps going and then pauses before coming to a doorway. There was someone, breathing heavily and moving away from the doorway. He leans around it and sees someone slowly moving across the open floor of the warehouse. He can see the knife hanging in their hand. He takes his time creeping closer to them when he recognizes their shirt. You’d worn it when Jason had taken you to the art museum in downtown Gotham. You practically glowed in the dimming rays of sunset when you left the museum. It was you. You were alive and you were okay. Following his instincts he settles a hand on your shoulder. There was no hesitation as you suddenly swung the knife at him. He finds your eyes wild and watery as he easily catches your wrist. You scream and cry and try to pull away from him. His heart breaks and he’s quick to try and calm you. He wishes he could take off the helmet but he’s pretty sure that if he let go of your arm you would stab him.

“You're okay, everything is all right. You're safe now.” He speaks his words as calmly as he can with the helmet, words he wishes he had heard in moments of panic like this. Your sobbing slows to a blubber as you collapse against him. He hears the knife you were holding drop to the ground and he lets go of your wrist and holds you until your breathing slows to a less panicked pace. His hands leave you for just a moment as he pulls off his helmet. He drops it to the ground and his hands settle on your back and head. You wince but don’t make a sound aside from quiet sniffling. His hand gently moves from the back of your head to your cheek as he gently coaxes you from his chest. His heart breaks when he sees your face. There’s blood running out of your nose and you're still crying.

“Did they hurt you? Is anything broken?” He asks concerned. You don’t respond, just stare at him. He tugs you away from him, but your hands cling to the sleeves of his jacket. He scans over your body and finds a lot of blood. You don’t seem limp or woozy only in shock. But that was a lot of blood. His eyes drop to the blood-covered knife then to your bloody hands gripping his sleeves like your life depends on it. He thinks about the mutilated man in the hallway and connects the dots. The deep, dark part of Jason that he had been trying to bury for years crept up as a sense of pride surfaced in his chest. You killed that guy. He probably tried to do something to you, and you killed, you fought. He was proud of you for it.

That pride disappears as he looks at your face. There’s blood splattered across your face and an empty look in your eyes that makes him worry. You’re in shock. He understands what that can do to a person and he hates that it’s happened to you. His arm slides over your shoulder and he slowly coaxes you to stand and keep walking to the door. He speaks softly, “We should get you out of here, okay? Nothing bad is going to happen anymore. You're okay.”

---End of warnings area---

You’re still shaking as he pulls you outside. You barely become conscious of how cold you are. The sticky wetness on your skin only makes it that much colder. You feel warm fabric cover your shoulders and then Red Hood is holding your face. You feel something move across your skin, scratchy and rough. He talks as he rubs gently, first your face, then your hands. His words are muffled, and you feel like you're underwater and you just want to sleep. Your eyes leave him for a moment when you see flashes of red and blue. Your mind comes back into focus as you hear him say, “-have to leave, okay?”

“What?” You ask and you see a flash of relief move over his features.

“I have to leave. The police are almost here. Commissioner Gordon will make sure you get home safe, okay?” He says slowly though he shifts away from you slightly. Panic curls in your throat again.

“Please, don’t leave.” You choke out as your hands tighten on him. “Don’t leave me alone.” You plead. Your eyes water and you feel so sick of crying. He comes closer again and your nails dig harshly into his arms.

“I have to go. The police aren’t friendly with me, and I don’t want you to get hurt more than you already are. I’ll be watching, okay? I just won't be right here.” He tries to placate you but you're not listening.

“don’t leave me, please. Please don’t leave me here” you repeat. You can see the hesitation on his face but still pries your hands off of him.

“You going to be okay. I’ll be watching.” He repeats as he steps out of your hold. You weep and pull the jacket he’d placed on you tighter around yourself. You blink and he’s gone.

Moments later a few police cars pull up followed by an ambulance. A woman gently guides you over to the ambulance where an EMT does a thorough check of you. You barely respond, heart heavy with he left me. You have a shock blanket wrapped around you. You sit on the back bumper of the ambulance as you watch police officers move in and out of the building. Evidently, the docks just outside the warehouse had been a known drop site of bodies connected to the Penguin, the man that had questioned you, but they never had any evidence. An older man with a bushy mustache sat next to you for a minute before he finally spoke to you.

“I’m Commissioner Gordon. I’d like to get your statement.” You turn your head to glance at him. You think you're supposed to know the name but you can't remember why at the moment.

“You were taken as part of a human trafficking job and caused some problems, so Penguin had you brought here to be dumped.” He continues and your brows furrow. “Penguin came to oversee the matter, and you saw him, correct?” you nod hesitantly at the only question he’s asked you. “Penguin left and Ted Jackson, known rapist and murderer, started to drag you out to the docks. Red Hood intervened and killed Jackson.” You open your mouth to correct him, but he puts up his hand. “Jackson had no weapons on his body but was severely mutilated,” the knot of bile surges in your throat again, “The state of his body would leave the perpetrated in jail, despite the state of Jackson’s criminal record. Red Hood is already wanted on multiple accounts of murder. You’re a victim, Miss, not a criminal.” You realize that the commissioner is telling you what your official statement is. “You were present at the killing, that’s why you're covered in blood.” You glance down at your shaky hands, only light streaks of blood left. “Red Hood killed Jackson and brought you out here and left before the police arrived. Do you agree that this statement is true and correct as best you can?”

You stare at him and the commissioner tips his head at you meaningfully.

“Yes,” you finally say. The commissioner nods contently.

“The paramedics say you have a mild concussion and bruising to your nose. Overall, you’ll be alright. Do you have someone we can call to take you home?”

“Jason,” you say before you can think about it.

“You have a last name?” he asks as he stands.

“I…” you stammer.

“It’s okay. I'll have someone find a number. I'm going to go talk through some things with the officers. If you need anything else, I’ll be over there.” You follow the line of pointing to a cluster of cops and nod. As he leaves, he pulls out his phone. You think you hear him say Babs, but your mind brushes the strange name to the side.

Additional Note: after a few read throughs myself I realized how heavy on descriptions this chapter was with not a lot of dialogue. Sorry about that. Since this was the first time I’ve written something dark, I would love any critiques or comments on things I did good or bad at, please. No Pressure though. Thank you for reading and the next chapter is a lot of intimate comfort, so I can’t wait to finish that one up.

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #do i know you?#kandywrites #fanfics-i-find-here

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fanfics-i-find-here · 5 months ago

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Do I Know You? Part 8

Jason Todd x Reader

Synopsis: You get Chili dogs with Jason.

Notes: I have been watching far too many biker couples on TikTok and I think it shows. I am trying to slowly drag out some of Jason's slightly strange qualities (because he was dead after all). Also, he may or may not have gotten horny for a couple of seconds, I don’t know what happened. This chapter is super sweet with a little bit of continuation of our miscommunication from the last chapter. Enjoy!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Masterlist

You woke up early the next day (Unnecessarily early) and got ready. You tried to focus on how calm you felt after Red Hood helped you prep so you didn’t get overly anxious again. At noon, you began the trek to Jackie’s. It was earlier than needed, but you didn’t want to be late. As it turned out you weren’t the only one anxious about being late. Jason was already there, sitting at one of the patio tables, tapping on his phone. You really needed to get his phone number.

“Hey there Stranger,” you say just as you hear his phone quietly say Delicious! You stifle a laugh and keep your face composed. If he’s surprised to see you early, he doesn’t show it.

“Are you playing Candy Crush?” you ask as you settle next to him to glance at his phone. He meets your eye when he speaks.

“How’d you know?”

“Your sounds on?” you ask confused. Jason always seemed like a conscious person, always aware of what was going on around him. You didn’t take him for someone to leave the sound on his phone.

“Is that bad?” He asks and you find his tone genuine. It makes you want to furrow your brows in confusion. Sometimes you were seriously socially inept but even you know it was more courteous to mute your phone when you didn’t need the sound, like when playing a game.

“It's not fabulous,” you respond, “you can mute the sound in the game, so you don’t have to turn the sound off on your phone.” You help him finish his level and then help him find the settings in the app to turn off the sound. You get a strange sense that Jason isn’t used to a smartphone. You feel the same way you feel when you help your mom or dad with their phones; they have no clue how to handle it. With the sound of the game muted, he goes to slide his phone into his pocket. You figure now is a better time than any.

“Wait,” he pauses, “can we exchange numbers?” you ask. You see a look cross his face that you can’t decipher but he nods and hands you his phone unlocked. You shuffle a little closer so he can still see the screen as you add in your contact and send a quick text to yourself. As you hand him his phone back you realize how close you are, warm shoulder pressed to yours. You pull back and quickly stand.

“Hot dogs?” you ask. He rhythmically taps the corner of his phone against his leg as he watches you in the way he always does. That way that makes your heart beat faster and your breath catch in your throat. In that way, you still don’t know whether or not it makes you uncomfortable. He finally nods and stands. You take a deep breath now that he’s not watching you, but it doesn’t last long as his hand gently pushes you forward towards his bike.

There’s a leather jacket you’ve never seen on him before draped across the seat along with two helmets.

“Ever ridden on a motorcycle before?” He asks while he hands you a helmet. You take it and absentmindedly answer.

“Once, not with a helmet though.” You turn it in your hands. It's bulky and you understand how this could save a life.

“You should always wear a helmet, Sweetheart.” He reprimands and you playfully glare at him for the tone. He just rolls his eyes and nudges your helmet.

“Put it on.” He says as he slides his own on. You watch intently to make sure you’ll do it right, ignoring a certain rattling jar in the corner of your mind. You mimic him, sliding the helmet over your head and you’re shocked by how much sound becomes muffled. You knock the side of the helmet with your fist to listen to how loud it would be. You see Jason squint at you where his visor has been moved up and you think he's smiling.

“Is that it? You just put it on?” you ask patting where your cheeks would be. His helmet subtlely shakes in no motion.

“Not even close” he pulls the jacket off the bike, and you should have thought about how weird it was considering he was already wearing his usual black leather jacket. He shakes the jacket out and holds it up so you can slide into it. It’s a nice brown and too large for you. You think it might be familiar but you're not sure why. You pull at the collar and try to pull up the sleeves with no success despite the leather creased from being rolled up before. You huff at them and turn to Jason to ask for help. He stares at you differently than he usually does. You can’t see the rest of his face, but his eyes are focused on the jacket resting on you.

“Little big don’t you think?” his eyes snap up and meet yours and you wish you knew what he was thinking.

“It’s the only other one I have, sorry” He takes a step closer and his hand curls around the bottom of your helmet pulling you forward. You stumble a little and your hands land on his waist, fingers curling onto the fabric of his jacket as you steady yourself. Your eyes widen and you're about to ask him what the hell he’s doing when he pushes your chin up. Your neck bends awkwardly and you feel his hands moving under your chin, and then you feel the fabric.

Straps. There was a chin strap on the helmet. He was doing it for you. Your fingers tighten slightly in his jacket as you stare at the sky. Once he’s finished, he pulls your head back straight with the chin of the helmet. Your eyes meet his, still wide and you realize you had stopped breathing. You suck in a shaky breath as he watches you. His hands come to rub at your arms as he speaks.

“Sorry, Sorry, I’m almost done,” he says in a calming manner as he pulls your hands from his jacket and takes a step back only to lean forward and grab at the hem of the jacket you’re wearing. He fits the teeth to the zipper and pulls it up. You stand there, unsure, fists clenching at your side. You wish you would say something, but you don’t know what. Even if you did have something to say, you don’t think you could over the lump of emotion in your throat. He stands straight and gives you a once-over with a nod. Your hands meet in front of you as you fiddle with the sleeves of the jacket. After a second, he steps close again tapping at the side of your helmet.

“Everything comfortable? Nothing too tight?” He asks. You stare at the collar of his shirt because you’re not sure what you’ll do if you meet his eye again. You nod your head as he asks and then shake it. He pauses a moment, and you can feel him watching you the way he usually does, and for once it makes you comfortable instead of unsure. He proceeds to give you a rundown of bike safety about leaning and bracing. He gets on the bike to demonstrate, and you try to stay focused on what he’s talking about, mind straying only briefly to less appropriate thoughts.

“I think that’s it. You ready?” he asks as he starts the bike.

You finally find your voice as you nod, “Yeah I’m ready.” You don’t think he can hear you over the bike, but he pats the seat behind him and then sticks out his hand. You take it and follow his instructions from earlier. Placing one foot on the peg and swinging your leg over the seat, your hand in his steadying yourself. You finally let go sitting upright on the bike. He pats your thigh and then does a thumbs-up. You mimic him in his line of sight, and he grabs your hand and pulls it around his waist. His other hand reaches behind him to hold your other hand to meet the first hand. He pats your hands there and you lightly rub at his chest. He revs the bike, and your hold tightens despite the bike not moving. You feel his body shake slightly and you think he’s laughing at you before he finally pulls out onto the street.

Jason was, for lack of better terms, losing it. He had told himself last night that this wasn’t a date, but damn did feel like one. He couldn’t help himself. Blame it on being dead during his late teen years, but sometimes he felt extremely out on social cues. He was going to let you do up the jacket and helmet. Honestly, he was! But then you stood there in his Red Hood jacket (it was the only other one he had) and it was like he was possessed. To be fair last night’s Robe debacle didn’t help, what with your pretty legs on display. Now with you in his jacket, he could make a semi-complete picture in his mind and it was not family friendly. To help tamp down any urges that would be unsavory in public, he chose to be close to you instead, which did not help as much as he thought it would. Your wide eyes and grasp on his jacket almost made him pull the helmet right off you and kiss you senseless. He realigned his focus on buckling the helmet. But then he met your eyes, still wide and you breathed like that. All those thoughts dropped from his mind. He worried he was making you uncomfortable, so he took a step back to give you some space but still helped you with the jacket. He weighed your anxious stepping and fidgeting as he watched you for a moment and he realized you hadn’t said anything the entire time.

Jason had been watching you waitress at Jackie's for a while (he hated to admit it) and you were never afraid of putting some douchebag hitting on you in their place. He expected you to do the same thing to him but now you just looked nervous, and he remembered the mess you had been in the night before. You thought this might be a date and he doesn’t think he's helping with that. He needed to tone it down. But then you were on the bike, and you had to hold onto him, so he showed you and you rubbed his chest. He could melt into a puddle.

Focus, he told himself, you have to drive. He took his time, not wanting to scare you. Easy on the turns and no racing. You handled it like a champ, relaxing into the ride a few minutes in. You must not get out of your little area of Gotham much because you would tap his helmet and point to random things that found your interest always with one hand on his stomach. Once Robinson Park came into view, he found some parking and you didn’t let go of him until the bike was turned off, hesitating even then. He offered his hand again and helped you off the bike. He followed suit, pulling his helmet off and shaking his hair out. Once he was done, you took a step forward and tipped your head back, practically bouncing on your toes. He watches you confused. After a moment, you stop bouncing and drop your head back down. You push the visor up on the helmet so he can see your eyes.

“Will you undo the strappy things?” You asked happily. Your eyes practically glittered with excitement, at least the parts he could see from your squinting grin. He hadn’t made you uncomfortable then. He nods slowly and you tip your head back again. He pulls the zipper of the jacket down slightly, entirely selfish because it gave him a nice view of your exposed neck (he feels a moment of disguise for himself for the thoughts he has just about your neck but that slips away as you hop incessantly). He quickly undoes the strap and steps out of your bubble so you can pull the helmet. Your hair is a mess of static flyaway, but you have the giddiest grin he’s ever seen on your face, with a sense of childish glee. You balance the helmet on the seat of the bike and attempt to pat down your hair as you speak.

“That was nice.” You say still grinning.

“Based on your grin, I’d say it was a little more than just nice, Sweetheart,” you laugh at his comment, and he joins.

“Okay, it was…Exhilarating. I haven’t had that much fun in a long time.” you shyly admit. Your anxious habits slowly leak back into your body, grin dampening. Your excited hop melds into a more subtle stepping and your hands come up to fidget with the zipper of the jacket. You unzip it the rest of the way, showcasing your meticulously chosen shirt. You were right. He would see it and it was nice. He was right too. The leather did pull the outfit together.

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.” He pauses for a second, unsure if he should comment on your outfit (This was NOT a date.) but he can’t help it. He was proud of the joint effort it took to dress you, as weird as that sounded.

“I like your shirt, it’s a good color on you.” Your normal soft smile shows itself and you press your cheek to your shoulder for a second.

“You think so? I wasn’t so sure about it” Thank god for vigilante skills because the look of confusion that almost crossed his face would have led to an interesting conversation. You seemed like you had liked it last night. After the many shirts you had run through, he had pulled that one last (selfishly because it was the closest thing to red you owned) and you had quickly chosen it. He decided not to think too hard about it, considering the whole keeping shirts you don’t like conversation and because you were staring at him. You were staring at him the way he stares at you, and he quickly decides he doesn’t like it.

“I know so, now Chili dog?” you nod in response as you slip your hands into the pockets of his your jacket.

“Lead the way, oh connoisseur of hot dog stands.” He snorts and dramatically offers his elbow to you.

“Right this way, M’lady,” he says with a grin.

You pull your hand from the pocket and curl your fingers into the crook of his elbow. You’re quiet as he pulls you down the street. This walk feels different than your usual walks. The weather was decent enough when you left your apartment, it's why you had opted not to bring your own sweater. Now though, you were happy Jason had brought a jacket and that he was letting you stand so close to him. His warmth seeps into you, fending off the drop in temperature. You worry you're extremely unprepared as you see clouds gather in the sky. Your worrying is cut short as Jason pulls you into a short line at an unassuming hot dog cart.

“What's so special about this guy's hot dogs?” You ask passively as you stand on your tiptoes to look around someone's shoulder, you lean away from Jason but keep your hold on his elbow to balance yourself. You feel him shift slightly and when you turn back to him, he’s already watching you.

“Antonio is the definition of Gotham’s survivors. He used to be a goon for Two Face, just trying to take care of his family.” You cut in before he can continue.

“Goon?” you question, the term feeling strange on your tongue.

“Right, you’re not from Gotham. It's like a lackey or employee, I guess? The point is he was working for Two-Face. Anyways when you’re working for two bosses, and you don’t know which one you’re talking to… let's just say you're more likely to end up with a bullet in your head.” Your lip quirks in disgust at his phrasing but you know it’s the truth.

“He decided it wasn’t worth it, so he chose to do something better.”

“A hot dog stand? While I appreciate the life story, it doesn’t explain why he’s the best hot dog stand.” You don’t get an answer as you finally make it to the front of the line.

“Eh, my boy Jason! How you been, kid?” Antonio says. If you thought Darla’s Gotham accent was thick, you were wrong. It took you a few seconds to decipher what he was saying with how fast he spoke. Jason, however, had no issues.

“Doin’ just fine, Antonio. How about you? How’re the kids?” he asked. You were a little startled. You knew Jason grew up in Gotham, he told you that himself, but it wasn’t obvious until this moment. The man suddenly had an accent you had never heard from him. You stare at him as he talks to Antonio and orders. He pays and takes the Chili dogs. You're pretty sure that they had briefly talked about you, but you were still in shock. Jason nudges you to walk and you nearly trip over yourself.

“Careful, sweetheart,” he says amused, and leads you to a bench. You sit down next to him and continue to stare at him incredulously. He offers you the hot dog, but you just continue to stare.

“Something on my face?”

“Who are you?” you blurt out.”

“What?” A look of startled panic crosses his features.

“What do you mean ‘what’? I have never heard you speak like that! That was a whole other person.”

“What are you talking about?” He seems genuinely confused but you have sudden distrust for him.

“What am I talking about? I’m talking about your sudden accent that is conveniently gone now, by the way.” You say finally taking the hot dog from him. He’s quiet for a moment, brows drawn in a thoughtful expression.

“I’m going to be completely honest with you,” he speaks slowly, “I had no idea I did that. Now that you mention it, I guess I do change the way I speak around certain people. Sorry.”

“Don’t take it personally,” you shrug, “It just really threw me off. I didn’t expect it. So, this is a Gotham Chili dog?” you look down at it in your hand. It wasn't quite what you had pictured. It had chili on it but also had peppers and onions on top of that and what honestly looked like a French fry.

“This feels excessive.” You add.

“The best of Jersey and Chili dogs all on one. Try it.” He looks at you expectantly.

“Don’t watch me, that’s weird.” You chide nervously.

“Fine,” he grins, “together?” He picks up his chili dog. You nod and join him.

You wish you could that he was right. That it was about the cart and the person making the chili dog. That this was the best thing you had ever tasted. But that would make you a liar. Your face twinges as you bite into the hot dog and try to chew slowly before swallowing it harshly. You rub your lips together preparing to face Jason with sad news. Maybe you could fake it. Your eyes meet his as you swallow nothing trying to force down a gag. You give him a closed-mouth smile. You’re a worse actress than you thought because he barks out a laugh. It takes him a minute before settling down.

“That bad, huh?”

“I’m so sorry,” the guilt genuine on your features, “I just can’t do it.”

He offers you a spoon from nowhere, “then scrap it off, unless you want me to get you a new hot dog.” You stare at the spoon. You had the feeling he knew you weren’t going to like it, considering he was prepared. You take the spoon gingerly, an unnamed emotion growing in your chest.

“I’ll just scrap it off.” You start scraping the chili into the paper dish it had come in.

“Are you sure?” he ducks down slightly trying to catch your eye, “I can buy a regular one.”

You glance at him, “It’s okay, you already paid for this one and you were ready with a spoon. I have all I need.” You lightly bump your shoulder against his and it seems to reassure him enough as he goes back to eating. The hot dog cleared off, and you ate it leisurely watching the clouds from earlier turn darker. You’re pretty sure it’s going to rain (shocking for Gotham). Food finished Jason collects your trash and throws it away. He follows your line of sight.

“We should head back. Ready for the ride?” He asks. You perk back up at the thought of his bike. A proud smile graces his features for a moment, and he offers his hand. You take it and he pulls you up just as you feel a drop of cold water on your face, a light sprinkle of rain begins. Jason doesn’t hesitate to tug you by your hand into a jog to his bike. In a matter of minutes, the sprinkle has turned into a straight downpour. Bike in sight, Jason drags you under a nearby weeping willow. The rain is lighter and softer but still coming through. You pause there to catch your breath. At that moment, you feel Jason's hand in yours, warm and sturdy. You don’t want to let go. Not that he was trying to pull away anyway.

“You okay?” he asks as his other hand attempts to brush off the water on your borrowed jacket. With no success, his hand moves to push your wet hair out of your face.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you say still breathless, fighting the urge to lean into his touch. His eyes scan over your face and the tips of his fingers brush against your cheek before he pulls his hand away.

“I’m going to go grab the helmets. I’ll be right back.” He shouts over the rain.

“Is it safe to be on a bike in this?” you ask before he leaves. He smirks.

“Don’t worry, Baby. I’m a safe driver.” The warmth of him and his hand leaves you in a hurried run. Your heart does a hop, skip, and a jump before your nerves come back to you.

He called you Baby. Maybe this is a date.

You don’t have long to worry because he’s back with the helmets. You're quick to put the helmet on your head, hiding your face out of fear of what he might see. You zip up your jacket, tugging at the collar trying to shield your neck from the cold. You feel around blindly for the straps of the helmet and attempt to put them together. You can feel Jason watching you as you try to do up yourself. You give up quickly and he doesn’t hesitate to step forward. You wonder if he was thinking about how he called you baby like you were.

Jason was not only thinking about how he called you baby, he was panicking. He was supposed to be toning it down not dialing it! It just slipped and then he ran away before he could see your reaction, which was not a good plan. Jason disliked this very much. He wasn’t used to being unsure about something. He was a planner. He always knew where he stood and what he was doing but with you, it was like he short-circuited. It didn’t help that his experience with romance was not a lot. And the people he witnessed in relationships were also not great. Superheroes, criminals, serial daters. Not exactly a guiding light in this department. Antonio didn’t help earlier either, calling you Jason’s girl. But you had been so shocked by his accent that you didn’t hear that or how flustered he became over it. He just needed to get you home, safe and sound. Then he could worry about it later. He did up your helmet and then shouted through his helmet and the rain.

“Let’s make a break for it!” He wasn’t sure you could hear him, but you nodded so he assumed you had. He took off for the bike sliding on and turning it on. You didn’t wait for him to offer his hand this time, using his shoulder to balance as you slid onto the seat behind him. You wrap your arms around him, patting his chest and giving him a thumbs up. He drives out onto the street. He tries to take his time with the slick roads but doesn’t want you to get a cold. He contemplates just pulling up to your apartment but then you might act like you lived further down the street again and he didn’t want you in the rain. So, he pulled up to Jackie’s where you had met. You hop off the bike and he is quick to follow, dragging you into the coffee shop. He helps with the helmet again and you both sit at his usual booth. You have that glimmer in your eyes again, and he notes that you like riding on his bike.

Just as he’s about to offer to buy you something warm his phone rings. If this is Dick calling again… He doesn’t finish the thought as he fishes out his phone. You eye him curiously. Barbara. That can’t be good. She only ever calls Jason during daylight if it’s an emergency. He excuses himself from the table and answers the phone.

“Where are you?” She asks before he can say hello.

“Couple blocks from the Narrows. What’s up?” he responds.

“How fast could you make it to the Bowery?”

“20 minutes if I’m careful, 10 if I’m not”

“Don’t be careful”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Oracle out” she hangs up and Jason turns to find you at the table looking out the window, admiring the rain. Despite your current drenched cat look, you look gorgeous with the warm glow of the coffee shop and still wrapped in his jacket. He really didn’t want to leave you but, evidently, it was an emergency. He returns to the table but doesn’t sit, rapping his knuckles against the table gently to get your attention. You turn to look at him and the urge to stay grows ten times.

“Work called, I gotta go. It’s an emergency” A slight pout overtakes your lips, but you nod.

“You need your jacket back.” You start to unzip the material, but he stops you.

“Just hold onto it til I see next, okay?” you concede with another nod. He taps the table one more time. He really had to go.

“Text me when you get home, please?” He had wanted to walk you home like a gentleman, but this would have to do.

“I will, I will. Go, you have an emergency.” You shoo him with a smile., “And thank you for a lovely day, Jason. I enjoyed myself.”

“I did too, Sweetheart,” he takes a step from the table, “I’ll be waiting to hear from you.” And then he's out the door with both the helmets and on his way to deal with whatever idiot dragged him away from you.

Additional note: They getting closer and moves are almost happening but they are both disasters. Thank you for reading! If you are reading this before Sunday (January 12 CST) please go do the poll for the next chapter. It currently looks like a darker chapter may be on our horizon.

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #do i know you?#kandywrites #fanfics-i-find-here

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fanfics-i-find-here · 5 months ago

Text

Do I Know You? Part 6

Jason Todd X Reader

Synopsis: You and Jason have a not-a-date walk.

Note: pre-apology here to people who like Neapolitan and to people who don’t like mint, it’ll make sense as you read. FYI, My brain is trying to work faster than I can type and is lovingly skipping some information that I feel is important for a consistent plot. That being said, some things are added with the hopes for later chapters. Enjoy the Not-a-date.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 7, Part 8, Masterlist

The Thirty minutes fly by quickly as you focus on the tasks at hand, ignoring the way Darla was smirking at you. You got the feeling someone had been eavesdropping on your conversation. You finish wiping down a few tables before going to the back to pull off your apron. Darla corners you there.

“Sooo?” she questions

“So what?” you feign idiocy on the matter.

“You finally have a date.” She says matter-of-factly.

“It's not a date” you quickly bite back, “We’re just walking.”

“Right, Right. Not a date, just a romantic walk.” She says with a dreamy sigh. You roll your eyes at her comment.

“Just know that I’m rooting for you. You deserve a little goodness, sweet thing.” She presses a warm hand to your shoulder with a soft smile that throws you for a loop. She squeezes your shoulder, “Now go get him”. She turns and goes back to the front. You stand there and gap for a moment. Never in your wildest dreams would you think Darla of all people would say that to you. You thought she wanted you to date so she had something gossip about. Your heart warms. And here you thought you had no friends in Gotham.

You finish your clock-out process and walk to the front. As you pass by Darla you squeeze her arm with a smile in a quiet Thank you. She smiles back at you knowingly. Once you reach the table where Jason is sitting, he doesn’t even look up, eyes focused on his book. You slid across from him not wanting to interrupt and find the chocolate croissant from earlier uneaten. You furrow your brows at it as he finally puts the book down.

“What's wrong?” he asks as a look of concern flashes across his face.

You neutralize your own as you say, “You didn’t eat your croissant.” He looks down at the croissant and light pink overtakes his cheeks.

“I actually got it for you. My timing was a little off and it's not warm anymore. But I can get it warmed up; I'll ask the lady to warm it for you if that’s what you want. Unless you don’t want it all, which is also fine. You just looked a little worn down earlier and I figured you wouldn’t mind the snack.” He fidgets with his book as he speaks, and you are once again struck about how odd it looks for such a big man to look so nervous. It makes you braver, as do Darla’s kind words from earlier. You reach across the table and squeeze his wrist. He freezes at the contact, and you quickly let go.

“It's okay, I don’t mind a cold croissant. In fact, I prefer it. Makes the chocolate all crumbly.” You say as you pull your hand away and pick up the croissant. You take a bite, and your eyes flutter shut. You were hungrier than you thought you were, and Jackie’s croissants were already divine. You hum contently before opening your eyes to find Jason watching you. You fluster and bring a hand up to cover your mouth, embarrassed.

“Sorry,” you both say at the same time. A giggle erupts from your chest, and he smiles.

“Do you want to finish first or…?” he asks, gesturing to the door. You nod, standing.

“I can walk and eat,” you say as you pull the strap of your purse over your shoulder. Jason follows. He strides in front of you opens the door and you nod in thanks as you chew on another bite. He gets stuck holding the door for an older couple coming into the shop and you wait patiently as you nibble on the croissant. He meets you with an apologetic smile.

“Sorry.”

You shake your head at his apology, “There’s no need for that, you were helping.” You start a leisurely walk in the direction of your apartment. You two walk in silence for a moment before you finally speak up.

“So, your brother and …leech?” you question at the end, still unsure about Steph. Jason grumbles for a second and the frown returns to his face. A pout forms on your own face at its site. You want to press a thumb between his brows and smooth out the frustrated wrinkle, but you wait for him to speak.

“My brothers don’t always understand personal boundaries. Tim and Steph used to date. She’s basically family but she doesn’t want Bruce to adopt her. She still uses his credit card though. Hence Leech.” You nod as a list of follow-up questions queued in your mind.

“Brothers? Plural?” He nods with a long-suffering sigh.

“I’ve got four and a sister and a few honorary siblings like Steph.”

“Interesting. And Bruce is?” Jason’s entire body tenses and you worry and wonder if and how the question made him uncomfortable. He shoves his hands in the pockets of his jacket as he stays quiet for a moment. You don’t push, just continue walking. After a minute of tense silence, you apologize.

“Don’t be sorry,” he says, “I just hadn’t realized-” he stops and shakes his head. “It's complicated.”

You nod in understanding, “Okay”

You watch your feet to ignore the silence and become intent on not stepping on the cracks in the sidewalk. Your steps become skewed, and your shoulder bumps against his. His hand slides from his pocket and presses to the small of your back to balance you.

“Sorry,” you mutter embarrassed, and you begin to wonder if it's too hot for fall. You step back, his hand doesn’t move until he’s sure you’re stable. Your back suddenly feels cold at the loss of his touch and you blame climate change on the temperature differences.

“Not gonna break anything are you?” there’s a teasing lilt to his voice and you feel warm again. You shake your head and start walking again and he follows you with hesitance as you keep your eyes on the sidewalk simply focusing on walking straight.

“You asked about my brother, so any siblings?” he asks, and your shoulders relax from the scrunched position they had been in.

“I have a sister. She’s…” you pause as a flood of emotions overtake you for a moment before you swallow it down, “She’s great, I love her a lot.” You decide you need to steer away from family talk for both him and you.

You take the final bite of your croissant and chew thoughtfully. You decide on a game of easy 20 questions.

“Favorite desert?” you see Jason raise his brow at you out of the corner of your eye from the change in conversation. He doesn’t outwardly question you despite the look.

“Neapolitan ice cream.”

You crinkle your nose and ask, “All at once?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He almost sounds offended.

“Like you eat it all at once. The chocolate and the strawberry and the vanilla all in one bite.”

“Yea? Isn’t that the point of it?” Now he sounds confused, and you turn your head to smile at the expression on his face before you follow it up with a mocked disgusted look.

“That’s disgusting” his face is back to being offended but you see the curl of a grin at the corner of his lips.

“It’s delicious. Fine, what's your favorite dessert?”

“Mint?” You say it like a question because you don’t really have a favorite dessert, you just like things minty and sweet. He takes his turn with a look of disgust.

“Are you sure? And mint what? That’s extremely vague.” You give a halfhearted shrug in response.

“I just like minty things, there’s nothing wrong with that.” You argue.

“And there's nothing wrong with eating all the Neapolitan flavors at once” he shoots back. You concede with a nod and a grin.

“Ooh-kay, you win.” When you glance at him again, you see a smug look on his face, and it makes you snort out a laugh.

“What is it?”

“Nothing, this has just been an interesting walk.” You glance around and notice you’ve made it to your street and find his bike once again parked in front of your apartment building. You glance at him and find a contented look on his face.

“Is that a good parking spot?” he seems momentarily startled by your question, so you add on, “That was where you parked the last time we walked.”

He looks from the bike to you a few times and you think you see a flash of panic before his face settles into a more stoic position. He nods and says, “It seems to be open most of the time, and helps that I get to walk with a lovely woman.”

Your cheeks flush yet again but you feel more comfortable around him. You press a hand to your chest and look around. You meet his eye and play up a southern accent as you say, “My, oh, my. Are you talking about little ‘ole me?”

He lets out a wonderfully hearty laugh. “Funny, Sweetheart, Take the compliment.” He’s tone commanding and your heart does two skips. One at the pet name and another at his voice. You suck in a breath.

“Okay, Thank you”. You say as you come to a stop by his bike. He suddenly backtracks.

“I didn’t mean it like that. You don’t have to thank me or accept anything like that. I just don’t want you to think the opposite because you are lovely. I mean you're great, fantastic even.” You stop him before he can continue, wrapping your finger around his wrist like you did at the café. It stops him and you don’t pull away this time.

“I mean it, Jason,” you smile, “Thank you for the compliment and the walk home.” You slip your hand from him and grasp around your purse strap to avoid fidgeting.

“Well, you're not home yet.” He says it like he’s reminding you and you nod remembering that he doesn’t know that this is your building. Although he might figure it out soon enough, you decide as one of the stray cats comes to press against your legs. His eyes watch the cat quietly and you stiffen up pretending you don’t know the cat.

“Well, I should start walking and you should… Drive to wherever you're going,” you say slowly. He presses his lips together as he watches the cat, and you think he’s trying not to laugh but you don’t know why. He nods as he pulls out his helmet and places his book in the cubby on the bike. You take a step back as you watch him slide the helmet on. You feel like you have the strangest moment of déjà vu. You’ve seen this before, but this isn’t the scene you think of. You think of Red Hood, who you’ve seen every night, and you’ve watched him put on and take off his helmet. The way Jason grasped at his helmet as he slid it on, it was almost-

Your eyes widen in panic.

No. No. No. We are not going to go down that rabbit hole. Jason is just a guy from the café and Red Hood is a vigilante whom you share tea with. Just because you have a crush on both of them does not mean-

“you okay?” Jason’s muffled voice pulls you out of your thoughts with a jump. You find him already on his bike, the engine running. You stare at him wanting to kick yourself, you missed watching him get on.

“Just tired.” You say brushing the moment off.

“Not of me I hope.” You can hear the smirk in his voice.

“Not yet,” you tease, “Goodbye, Jason.”

“Goodbye, My Lady” The helmet tips in your direction and takes off down the street. You finally drop down to a squat to pet the stray cat that had taken to meowing at you incessantly.

“I think I’m losing my mind” you admit to the cat. He meows at you in response. Yea definitely losing your mind.

Additional Note: Yeah that ending almost messed up my entire plan. I literally panicked like I wasn’t the one writing the scene in the first place. I have a goal I think and while it was almost a mess up it did open an idea for a scene later. So a win fail I guess. My writing (in the brief stint that I’ve been doing it) is just mess around and find out and sometimes I’m not ready to find out. Anyways, Thank you for reading!

Tag List: @little-miss-naill, @nikilolo787, @joonunivrs, @uzxotic, @qardasngan, @stormz369, @g4bbi3xx, @iwatobiswimbros, @the-lonely-flute, @elz-xo, @gone-batty-fics, @princessesgarden

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #do i know you?#kandywrites #fanfics-i-find-here

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fanfics-i-find-here · 5 months ago

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Do I Know You? Part 7

Jason Todd X Reader

Synopsis: Jason asks you out, maybe. Red Hood helps you get ready.

Note: This chapter is a little bit longer than the others and we get both Jason and Red Hood in one chapter. Reader is slowly becoming the queen of denial. This is lowkey from life experience with boys who won’t say things straight to the point but vaguely beat around the bush. Anyways enjoy!!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 8, Masterlist

The next month goes by like a whirlwind. How time flies when a vigilante is coming in through your window a few times a week and a cute boy walking you home the other days of the week. After a week and a half of coming in and eating your food, Red Hood admitted he needed to change his patrol. He looked a little ashamed and when you asked why, he said that Oracle (whoever that was) had gotten on to him about showing his face in the same location at the same time every night. You nodded in understanding and asked if you would ever see him again. His lip had quirked, and he said he would see you in three days. Then he explained, teasingly, that he would just be coming by less than every day. You had flushed and left him at the table to put away leftovers. You could hear him laughing under his breath as you walked away.

It was strange. You didn’t know what to call your and Red Hood’s “relationship”, you were somewhat teasing friends. He was a good listener, even though you weren’t a talker. Your awkward moments had lessened, and you didn’t feel so tense around him. Every once in a while, he would do something, move his hand in a certain way, say a word or a sentence in a manner that was so, so familiar. When that would arise in your mind you would slam it into a jar, twist the lid tight, shove it into a dark corner of your mind never to be thought of again. You enjoyed having someone around. It made your life less boring. Even if that someone seemed to enjoy seeing your cheeks grow red.

Your time at work always seemed to drag on. Like time knew you were waiting to see someone. Jason, who used to come in once every two weeks-ish, started to come in various times throughout the week. He always parked his bike in the same spot in front of your building. You worried after the first two weeks, but you had noticed he was right, no one ever parked in that spot. You started to pay attention to it when you walked to work or home without him. Always Empty. You even checked the signage, and it was public parking. It was a good spot.

Darla had taken to giddily nudging you whenever he came in. Sometimes it felt like she was more excited to see him than you were. She hadn’t asked about any of your “romantic walks” which you were both shocked and happy about. You loved your walks with Jason. You asked each other things all the time and you had learned a lot about him. His favorite color was red (a comparison your mind made with Red Hood which was shoved into the jar and hidden again), he was Gotham-born and raised, and he liked chili dogs. When you admitted you had never liked chili dogs, he went on a spiel about how you couldn’t possibly be from the East Coast and that you just hadn’t had a good one yet. He yammered about what would constitute a good hot dog and therefore a good chili dog, explaining that you had to find the right hot dog cart and person to get it right.

You had nodded politely as you tried not to laugh but he caught the barest hint of your grin.

“What’s so funny, huh? Hot dogs are street food cuisine, don’t mock me for my good knowledge.” He said bumping his shoulder into yours as you walked. You finally let out a loud laugh to which he grinned at.

“It’s just a hot dog, Jason. I wouldn’t call it ‘cuisine’.” You say lightly bumping him back.

“It is cuisine. Get off your high horse, miss fancy pants. You need to have some experiences.” He teased. Oh, yeah, he and Darla had gotten into a conversation about you. They both decided you were lame and boring (in the kindest way possible).

“I’ll tell you what,” he continues, “I know the perfect hot dog cart to get a genuine chili dog. Let me take you there.”

Your strides slow till you stop completely, taking in what he just said. You stare at the sidewalk.

Is he asking you out? Or is this just like a friend thing? Are you friends? We’ve been walking not hanging out. Or does that count as hanging out?

Jason, noticing you had stopped, turned around to find you concentrated on the sidewalk, brows furrowed and a pout on your lips. He resisted doing several things. Mostly the urge to pull you into a strong hug (and maybe press a kiss to the downturned corner of your lips but that is neither here nor there). In the time he’s been walking with you and eating your food in the middle of patrol, he’s learned that you overthink a lot, like a lot. You seem to get stuck in your head worrying about something. He presses a warm hand to the side of your arm, and you look up to meet his gaze with wide eyes.

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to. I don’t want to force you into something you don’t want.”

You shake your head with a deep breath, “it’s not that. I would love to Jason; I like spending time with you but…” you pause and drop your eyes back down. He dips his head down to meet your eyes.

“But what sweetheart?”

Your heart races from a number of things. Sweetheart, his intent on eye contact, and your previous overthinking. If it was a date, he would’ve called it that, your friends.

“Nothing, it’s nothing,” you say shaking your head, brushing off your previous statement as you actively lock eyes with him, “Where is this famed hot dog cart?” your voice teases.

He stares at you for a moment like he’s assessing you, for what you’re not sure about, but when he does this, you almost feel naked. Your breath catches from the way it feels to be seen, instead of just looked at. He finally shrugs his shoulders and turns to keep walking. He stands beside you, and you feel him press a hand to the small of your back, reminding you to walk as well.

“It’s over by Robinson Park and the Knights stadium.”

“Ah, but of course, sports food.” You say, trying to ignore how much you miss his touch as it leaves your back. “I don’t have a car.”

He gives you an odd look, “That’s okay we’ll figure it out.”

That was last week, and your nerves were all over the place. This was your first real …hangout? Date? Whatever, as an adult away from family, you wanted to make sure you did everything right. It was decided that you would meet at Jackie’s and go to this perfect hot dog cart on his motorcycle. You still had a whole day until you were supposed to meet, and you decided you had nothing to wear. From the moment you got home, you were manic. You had quickly picked up and cleaned your apartment, so it looked nice (not that you were planning on bringing him here). Then you took the longest shower you had in a long time. You scrubbed everything and shaved then stressed about why you shaved (this wasn’t a date, and you were NOT bringing him home). You wrapped yourself in a fluffy robe and promptly went through your entire closet, bedroom now a mess of strewn clothes. You wanted to cry. Why did you have to overthink everything like this? It pissed you off sometimes. You needed help but who to call?

Your list of friends was abysmal, unfortunately. There was Darla (whose daughter just had a baby earlier in the week and you can’t drag her away from family like that), Jason (whose phone number you still didn’t have and whom you were going out with, so no), Steph (who had taken to showing up at Jackie’s fairly frequently when Jason wasn’t there but again no phone number), and Red Hood. What a sad, short list you have. You did not have Red Hood’s number, but you had a sneaky suspicion you would see him tonight. You hadn’t seen Jason today which usually means you would see Red Hood. A recurring note that you keep adding to your jar in the corner. You had opened your window up after your brisk cleaning and before your shower to let in some cool autumn air. You glance at your clock he should be here soon if he wasn’t already. Deciding you would make him help you get ready for your “hangout”, you stand from your slumped state and head for the living room.

Jason had had a very long day, and he just wanted to see you. Dick had been bothering him nonstop about your guy’s planned trip to Robinson Park. How he had known about that Jason didn’t know. (You had told Steph, and the information had spread quickly.) He had dealt with a few muggings in broad daylight and didn’t have time to visit you at work like he wanted to. Once he reached his roof across the street, he saw all the lights on in your apartment. A little odd but you might be cleaning again something you tended to do when you were stressed. Your window was open, which made him tense with worry. You weren’t supposed to leave the window open for him, just unlocked so it didn’t draw attention. He made quick work of grappling over and quietly landing on the fire escape, pausing to listen. It was quiet except for some soft music coming from your bedroom. He slides into the living guard on high alert, hand hovering over his gun. At that moment you enter the living room, clad only in a fluffy robe cinched tight at your waist, the hem of it resting above your knees. Your hair sitting unbrushed stringy and wet, sticking to the fabric.

“Oh, thank god you’re here” Clearly you weren’t very good at reading the room. Jason’s entire body seized for a moment. His natural gut instinct has him wrap his fingers around the gun in his thigh holster and he tamps down the urge to pull it out and search for a threat. The rest of him easily gets distracted by you despite your robe not being anywhere close to scandalous. You had it wrapped so tight the v of the collar pressed to your throat, the sleeves, long and covering your wrists. The only semi-scandalous part of it was the bottom hem. It moved as you walked, drifting below the knee and above the knee. He stays tense trying to get himself to stop staring but you do it for him. You wrap a hand around his wrist, pulling his own off his gun and attempting to drag him to your room.

“I desperately need your help, Red,” when he doesn’t so much as shift you add, “Please.” your worried tone snaps him out of his reverie. He’s lucky he still had his helmet on because he snaps his mouth shut from where he had been gaping at you.

“With what?” he says finally letting you drag him into your room.

“I have clothes, but I can’t figure out what to wear,” you say frustrated. He was shocked by the state of your room, clothes haphazardly thrown everywhere. Your home was usually pristine or on the edge of it.

“No offense, Sweetheart,” the affection pet name slips out before he can stop it, “but I’m not exactly the right person for this.” He says gesturing to himself. You pause in your movement, hand dropping from his wrist, and a moment of concentrated panic crosses your face for a split second and then it’s gone.

“I don’t have a lot of friends, Red, but you’re one of them and you’re here now. You have to help me. I don’t know what else to do.” Your voice has a hint of desperation but not panic and he can’t help but wonder about your earlier expression.

“Okay, fine,” he concedes, “but there’s no guarantee that I’ll be any help.” He brings his hands up and pops the latch on his helmet, sliding it off his head. You abruptly turn away as he does so, picking through a pile of clothes. He sets the helmet on the dresser and turns to watch you. Within the last week, you’ve been acting weird when he would do certain things, like taking off his helmet. You wouldn’t watch anymore, and you wouldn’t laugh at his double mask. More often than not, you’ve taken to busying yourself with something else and he tries not to take it personally.

“Why are we worried about clothes?” he asks, concern over you outweighing his personal feelings. You pause in your picking and turn back to face him as you tug on a wet strand of hair. You stare at the ground instead of looking at him.

“I have a date” you mumble so quietly he almost misses.

“oh” is all he says out of fear he’ll say too much. You think it’s a date? You’re worried about the date you’re going to go on with him. You wanted Red Hood to help pick out an outfit for your date with Jason. The same two people but now was not the time to tell you that.

His response makes you anxious (what else is new). You had already been worried about telling him about your date, not that it was a real date or that you were dating Red, he just seemed flirty. You assumed that meant he was into you, but you didn’t want to entertain the thought of dating a vigilante. That would go straight to hell in a handbasket, you were sure. You just hoped you hadn’t unintentionally led him on.

“Not like a date date.” You add, “Actually I think we’re just going to hang out.”

Jason suddenly realizes that you’re right. You two hadn’t discussed what this thing was and suddenly he thinks he’s not ready for a relationship, at least not with you. He likes you so, so much but you didn’t know each other. He was lying to you right now and that’s no way to come into a relationship. He pushes his own personal dilemma to the back of mind.

“What are you doing?” He decides he’ll help you if only to calm your nerves.

“What?”

“For the date. What are you doing?”

“Uh, hot dogs” you say a little dumbfounded that he’s even entertaining you.

“Hot dogs? Sounds lame.” Which Jason means full-heartedly, it’s not exactly what he had intended but it was the easiest thing he could’ve slipped into the conversation at the time. He just wanted to spend time with you outside of your normal routine.

“it’s not, I’m going to get a true Gotham experience, you know.” You defend Jason, to himself, and his lip quirks up at your tone, “I’m not from Gotham so it’ll be fun to do something different.”

He did know you weren’t from Gotham but not because you had told him. moved here like three years ago over some family drama. That’s what Tim had said but he never shared where from or what the family drama was. Not that he would want to learn that from Tim. He’s narrowed it down from not the east coast after you didn’t argue with him about it concerning the chili dogs. But that left whole lot of United States left to figure out.

“Alright, tourist, let’s find something for you to wear.” Your nose crinkles at him calling you a tourist and he stares for a moment before looking back down at your current state of dress.

“Although I’m pretty sure you could just dress like this, and your ‘date’ would be happy.”

You look down at what you’re wearing and suddenly become aware of how indecent you. Your eyes widen as you start to push him out of the room you had just dragged him into.

“Out. Get out of my room!” You push the door shut behind him and lean back against it as you slide down the door burying your face in your hands. How embarrassing. You quickly dress in the most modest pajamas you have despite how warm you feel. You shamefully open the door with a warmed face. You don’t meet his eye as you apologize.

“don’t do that,” he stops you halfway through your mumble apology, “I should’ve said something earlier, but you seemed so stressed. I’m the one who should be sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

You finally look up and meet his mask. “it’s okay, I was stressed, and I’m still stressed. Will you still help me?”

His hand comes up to squeeze at your arm, and all you can think about is Jason. You pull out of his hold and back into the room, squeezing your eyes shut. Go into the jar and into the corner. Red Hood follows you and starts scanning your thrown clothes with hands on his hips. He finds, that despite the mess, there is a sense of organization. You turn to find him in a concentrated state, and you almost laugh at the sight of him. He glances up when he hears your giggle but focuses on the task at hand.

“Hot dog cart.” He mumbles, “Casual activity and outside.” He picks up a pair of black jeans from the ground. “Here” he tosses them at you. Even though they hit you square in the chest you almost fail to catch them. Jason laughs at the site, and you glare at him as he starts to go through your pile of shirts. He pulls out a blue t-shirt and gives it a disgruntled look before tossing it aside. He pulls out a graphic T and shows it to you.

You shake your head, “it’s just a t-shirt.”

He glances at it, “Yeah?” You roll your eyes.

“I can’t wear just a t-shirt. That’s too casual.”

“You’re going to be wearing a coat.” He says matter of factly.

“Yeah, but if I leave the coat open, he’ll see the shirt. It needs to look nice. Besides I don’t like how that shirt sits around my hips.”

He raises a brow at the comment. “Then why do you still have it?”

“What if I still want to wear it?”

“You just said you didn’t like it.”

“Yeah, but I might like it later” he stares at you in confusion before he shakes his head.

“Whatever,” he says as he goes back to looking through your shirts. You sit on your bed as he looks and pull your brush from under a pile of dresses, vetoed due to the choice of transportation. You slowly comb through the wet knots of your hair as he pulls out random shirts that you shake your head at. He doesn’t get frustrated, just teases you about colors, and cuts that he didn’t know there were problems with. His focused energy calms your heart, and you wonder why ever got worked up in the first place. Just as you smooth through the last of your hair, he pulls out a long-sleeved maroon top. You set brush down and glance at the top and then to the jeans and nod satisfied.

“You should be a fashion consultant.” You say pleased as you tug the top out of his hands. He snorts at the comment.

“Got any leather jackets?” your brows furrow at the question.

“Why would I need a leather jacket?”

“Because-” he stops himself. You hadn’t told Red Hood that you would be taking Jason’s bike. That’s what you needed the leather jacket for. He panics for moment but covers it up quickly saying, “it’ll pull the outfit together?” He inwardly cringes. You laugh.

“You know, I was totally joking about the fashion consultant thing. I don’t own anything leather.”

We’ll have to fix that. He thinks as he glances around the room. The no leather thing made sense. It wasn’t your style. She’d look going in it though his mind adds as he watches you. You lay out the shirt and top together before going to your dresser to pick through your jewelry box. You pull out a heart-shaped pendant necklace and show him. You don’t even ask him if it’ll match before he answers.

“That’d look good with it.”

You nod happily at the confirmation and go back to fish out some earrings as you ask, “Would you pick out a pair of shoes? They’re over by my door in the living room.”

He doesn’t respond as he leaves the room. With you no longer in the room with him, he takes a mental step back. He had just admitted to himself that he wasn’t ready for a relationship but another part of him can’t help but admit that he loves this. Being around you and helping you with whatever you need. Talk about conflicting emotions.

As he’s picking up a pair of boots you come into the room.

“I’m sorry for dragging you into this.” You glance at the boots he’s holding, “Good choice”

“Isn’t this what friends are for?” Jason asks as he hands the boots to you. He hates to admit to himself that the question is genuine. All his friends were other heroes and that doesn’t quite make for a normal friendship dynamic. You nod absentmindedly to his question as you drop the boots down the hallway to your bedroom.

“You want something to eat? I haven’t made anything but I’m sure I have a good microwave meal.” You ask as you head for the kitchen.

“Don’t’ worry about it. I should get going.” He takes a few steps towards the window and you follow. “You should keep your window shut.”

“I need fresh air sometimes, Red.” You say with a playful lilt.

“Yea, yea. Shut your window.” He says as he places a foot out the window.

You don’t comment but grin at him. His brows furrow as he looks at you.

“What?”

“You don’t have your helmet.” You press your lips together to keep from laughing. Leather glove meets his hair as he pats at his head. Sure enough, no helmet. He pulls his leg back in with a sigh. You stop him there with a hand on his shoulder.

“I’ll go get it.” Your hand leaves him as you briskly walk to your room. Jason shakes his head at himself. You really were a distraction. How could he forget his helmet? You come back into the room with a disgusted look on your face.

“What is it?” he asks.

“You should get this cleaned.” You say as you hand him the helmet. He stares at it.

“Why?”

“It smells like sweat and boy.” Jason snorts at the comment.

“That would be because I’m a sweaty boy.”

“Gross,” you say face scrunching up a little be more.

“You’re the one that wanted a better whiff of me, babe.” He says with a grin and pulls on the helmet. Unfortunately, you were right about the smell. You shove on his shoulder with warmed cheeks.

“Get out of my apartment you weirdo.” He puts his hands up in defense with a chuckle.

“Okay, okay. I’ll get out. Good luck with you’re not a date date.” He finally slides out the window and is gone as you grumble, “It’s not a date.”

You close and lock your window, turn off the obscene number of lights you left on, and collapse onto your couch. You're still worried about whether or not this thing with Jason was a date but your 30 minutes or so with Red Hood had seriously calmed your nerves. You were happy he was in your life even if he liked to tease you. You decide to watch some TV while you wait for your hair to air dry, pointedly ignore the mess that was your bedroom.

Additional Notes: I'm so happy because the characters are starting to feel a little more comfortable. And I have plans! I actually have plot planned now. I just need to get there. Thank you for reading!

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #do i know you?#kandywrites #fanfics-i-find-here

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fanfics-i-find-here · 5 months ago

Text

Do I know you? Part 5

Jason Todd x reader

Synopsis: You meet Tim and Steph, Jason is not happy about it.

Notes: Some drama is finally here brought to you by Tim and Steph. This is the power of embarrassing a sibling.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Masterlist

The past week had been… odd. And that was putting it nicely. True to his word, the next evening was filled with Red Hood replacing your window locks with newer fancy ones attached to an “Out of date” alarm system (his words not yours). He showed you how to set it up and how to attach it to your phone, so if anyone got in while you were away you would know. It seemed a bit excessive to you, living on the sixth floor and all but he was adamant about it, so you let him. He told you if you wanted him to come in and share tea you would have to leave the window unlocked for a frame of time. If he didn’t show in that frame of time, you were to lock the window anyway.

“No later, understand?” He had ordered gruffly, and you had just shrugged. You’re pretty sure he rolled his eyes in response, but you couldn’t see them. In the days following he showed up every day even if it were just for a couple minutes. Sometimes you shared food, sometimes just tea. If he stayed for longer than a few minutes, you would sit amicably at the dining table or at the island. Sometimes in comfortable silence and sometimes conversing about your days, mostly you than him. You finally settled into a routine. After his visit, you would get ready for bed and repeat the day over.

Work at Jackie’s was booming. With the fall season in full swing, people came in requesting pumpkin this and pumpkin that, only to be disappointed to find out Jackies only had one pumpkin item and that was pumpkin bread. It was a blast. You kept up with the regulars and Darla would edge her way around you, collecting gossip. Over the next week and a half, she would sporadically bother you about if you had gotten Jason’s number or if you had fallen in with some other guy. She said she saw some of the signs of a guy but wasn’t too sure. When you asked what she meant she didn’t offer you any explanation.

It was a Thursday when you met Steph. When she came in, you mentally prepared yourself for another no-pumpkin showdown. You try not to judge a book by its cover, but her blonde hair and purple athleisure made it hard not to.

“Hi, Welcome to Jackie’s. What can I get for you?” your lips twitch into a customer service smile. She grins at you like this was the most excitement she had had all day.

“Hi, I’m Steph. How are you?” she asks politely.

“I’m good. What can I get for you?” she sags slightly at your shutdown of the conversation. Overly friendly new customers in Gotham were never good. They usually wanted something.

“Right,” she perks back up, “One hot chocolate and one black coffee.” She pauses for a moment while you put in the system. When you look back up, she asks “Do you know Jason?”

The sudden question slightly takes you aback and don’t answer, so she continues.

“He's about this tall,” she holds her hand in the air, “black hair, looks like he could punch a brick wall.” You nod slowly and she smiles, “Great, where does he usually sit?”

You point to the table nook he usually hides in, and she nods, “We’ll sit there. I heard that you bring the drinks out?” You nod again, still confused about this girl. No Pumpkin spice latte, and she knows Jason? Strange.

“How much do I owe you?” you finally snap out of your stupor. She pays, you thank her and tell her it will be out momentarily. She turns and greets a lean boy as he walks through the door. She tugs him to the booth quickly and they talk to each other in hushed tones, both glancing up at you occasionally. You try to ignore them as you stumble through making the two easiest items on the menu.

You glance up when the bell dings and a smile flits across your lips when you see Jason before it turns into a frown as he frowns. His eyes staring at his now occupied table. You pause in your task and come up to the register as he takes a few slow steps towards it.

“You okay?” you ask as you glance at the two at the table. They’re looking at Jason like they’ve won the lottery.

“Did they talk to you?” He ignores your own question.

“She did. Only to order though. Do I need to call the cops?”

Jason snorts at the question, “Yeah that’ll go well. She just ordered? She didn’t ask you anything?”

You give him a strange look. What is with people and odd questions today?

“She just asked where you sit. Sorry, I gave you away.”

He breaks his glare from them and meets your eye with a softness.

“It’s okay, Sweetheart. They would’ve figured it out even if you hadn’t given it to them.” Your heart flutters at the pet name. He had called you that the few times you had seen him since your walk home and it was starting to get to you.

“You want me to dump out their drinks and just make yours?” you ask as you try to force your focus away from the warmth on your cheeks.

“And ruin your hard work?” his eyes stare into your own and he finally breaks it when you hear giggles from your spies. You drop your chin down. “It’s okay,” he repeats, “I’ll sit with them.” He nods at you and heads for the table. The two sat there leaning together and whispering. You wonder who they are and how Jason knows them.

You get to work make the drinks, no longer stumbling, and with bounce your step. Darla stands next to you with a smug smile and makes some refills for customers.

“You could have asked for his number when he was alone but now there are people. Your poor self won't ever be able to do it.” She says teasingly.

“Thank you, Darla,” you say with an eye roll as you load the drinks on the tray. You take your time to meander to the table as Jason looks like he's berating the two that sit across from him. It doesn’t look like it's working as they both sit there with smug grins. You set the tray on the table and all eyes are on you. You keep your own eyes down as you move the drinks from the tray to the table. Your eyes try to catch Jason’s book for the day because you know you won't be asking like you normally do. You pull the tray from the table and rest it between your side and your arm.

“Anything else I can get you?” you glance at the two but meet Jason's eye. He looks flushed, possibly upset. Steph speaks up.

“No that’s okay. What was your name again?” she says like you had already told her. You break eye contact with Jason and look at her. She’s smiling and you can't find any malice in it, so you tell her. She nods like she already knows and points to the boy sitting next to her.

“This is Tim,” she points to Jason, “and obviously you already know Jason.” You hear a quiet thud from under the table and Tim flinches but smirks as he looks at Jason.

“You missed,” he turns to look up at you, “It's nice to meet you fin-” he cuts himself off and you wonder what the last word was.

You nod politely, “you too,” you say and look at Jason again for some explanation and a defeated look crosses his features as he shrugs.

“Brother” is all Jason gives, and you nod in semi-understanding. Based on the few mentions of family in passing conversations, you had always guessed he had a tense relationship with them.

“I didn’t know you had siblings.” You look back at the two. Tim and Jason could definitely be brothers. Aside from their stature and slight skin tone difference, everything else is similar. Black hair, blue eyes. Though you would argue that Jason’s were prettier because they were green sometimes. Not that it mattered. Your eyes meet Stephs again. Blonde hair, green eyes, bright smile. Very different looking than the two boys.

“Are you the only girl in the family?”

Steph makes a gagging sound, “I’m not family, Thank God!” Tim snorts at her over dramatics.

“I’m sorry.” Your face flushes slightly as you flounder, “Then what…?” Your hand gestures to them all sitting at the table.

Jason's eyes narrow on your embarrassed state.

“Don’t worry, she’s just a leech.”

“Hey!”

“Would you mind getting me one of those chocolate croissants?”

You shift on your feet with a look of confusion. He never asks for anything else. You nod, “Sure, anything else for the table?”

Tim looks like he’s about to ask for something, but Jason cuts him off with a glare. Instead, he shakes his head no. You hesitantly step away from the table but take your time going back to the kitchen to pull out one of the chocolate croissants and warm it up. Your eyes periodically glance back at the table. They crouch over the table and talk to each other. You worry for a moment that they’re talking about you and then decide that it doesn’t really matter. You had only met Tim and Steph today. Their opinion of you was worthless and You knew Jason wasn’t one for gossiping about others. You’ve watched Darla try and fail. Once you finally make it back over to the table with the croissant, Tim and Steph are gone leaving their half-full drinks on the table.

As you set the plate on the table you ask, “Scare them off?”

Jason lets out a sigh.

“If only. I’m sorry if they made you uncomfortable.” You shake your head in response.

“I'm sorry I made assumptions before I had all the information. I hope I didn’t offend.”

“I doubt you could ever offend anyone sweetheart” Your cheeks warm again.

“That’s not true I work in a public job, and I offend people all the time just standing” you joke. Jason smiles and nods.

“That’s fair. How could you be so lazy?” he teases. You giggle.

“Speaking of lazy, I should get back to work.” You point a thumb over your shoulder where a man leaves a table full of dishes.

“What time do you get off?” he asks. Your body freezes mid-turn at his abrupt question.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to” he adds on, “I just enjoyed walking with you the other day and I parked my bike around the same area again, so I thought maybe…” He trails off his own cheeks flushing. Your body relaxes as you look at your watch to think. He had convenient timing; you were off soon. It was nice having someone to walk with and it wouldn’t hurt to see him on his bike again. You nod with warmed cheeks.

“I get off in about thirty minutes if you don’t mind waiting?” you say as your eyes meet his. He nods, smiling.

“It’ll give me time to read.” He lifts his book that was sitting on the table, the cover reading Pride and Prejudice.

“Again?” You can't help but ask. He looks at the book cover and rolls his eyes.

“You really want to have this conversation again?” you shake your head quickly at his question.

“I'll see you in thirty minutes.” With that, you walk away from him and throw yourself into your finishing tasks.

Additional notes: This was originally a much longer chapter but I decided to split it up. So, the next chapter is about them walking home. I have to tell you I cannot wait for ya’ll to read the next one cause I got carried away for like three seconds and had to do some backtracking. The plot was happening where I didn’t want it. I loved having Tim and Steph involved in this and just not being subtle about anything. Jason may have tried to kill Tim once but that won't stop him from being a little shit. Thank you for your love guys. This has been such an interesting experience, so the support has been lovely. Tag List: @little-miss-naill, @nikilolo787, @joonunivrs, @uzxotic, @qardasngan, @stormz369, @g4bbi3xx

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #do i know you?#fanfics-i-find-here #kandywrites

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kandyscorner · 4 days ago

Text

Do I Know You? Part 28

Synopsis: Something happened and everybody’s tense about it.

Note: Hey guys, crazy ending last chapter, huh? Y’all are not going to like me for this chapter I don’t think. So, enjoy that!

Masterlist

Your head hurt. So did your eyes, your throat and even your skin. You turn slowly in the bed. Your body ached almost like you had the flu.

“Jason?” you mumble because something was wrong, and you hoped he could help you.

Silence.

“Jay?” you try again and your greeted with nothing. You finally manage your crusty eyes open and squint up at a ceiling that’s not yours. You sit up slowly, a bidding nausea settling in your stomach but not enough to make you truly sick.

You look around the unfamiliar room, the wall bookcase, the king-sized bed that held only you. You must have stayed at the manor. You close your eyes and rub your face with your hands, trying to remember what happened.

Everything was fuzzy. You remember meeting everyone, remember Jason helping with your dress and then Dick…

“Oh my god,” you groan. Dick Grayson was Nightwing. You didn’t know what to do with that knowledge, for now it just made your head hurt. You try remembering past that but it’s the blurriest your memory has ever been, and you don’t know why.

It may have rained, or you showered. Based on your apparent change of clothes, which were not the clothes you had arrived in the manor. You didn’t like this, this not knowing. What if you did something awfully embarrassing. Jason would probably tell you what happened but where was he?

You turn on the bed, legs slipping out from the sheets. Where were your pants? What happened!? You tamp down any panic you have when you spot a sheet of paper on the nightstand with a glass of water and some ibuprofen pills.

For the headache.

There was no signature, but you knew that wasn’t Jason’s handwriting. You weren’t going to argue with a piece of paper though, your pounding head enough to ignore a survival instinct to not take random pills. You drink some of the water to wet your parched mouth before taking the pills. And then you drink some more water, a sudden thirst overtakes you and the glass is empty before you know it.

You take a minute before standing and decide you need a bathroom. You try the first door you come to, and it opens to a hallway. Not a good plan, you have no pants. You close it and try the other, thankful for the sight of the toilet. You do your business and take note of a pair of pajama pants on the floor. You tug them on and find your dress hanging near the shower. Your hands press into the fabric, and you find it damp. Maybe it had rained.

You splash water on your face and try to wipe the mascara from your skin, so you didn’t look so much like a dying racoon. You need to find somebody, preferably Jason, but one of the girls or anyone in the family really would be nice.

You shuffle back to the door to the hallway and step out. You make it about half down the hallway before you meet Titus. The dog sits down in front of you and stares. You sit down crisscross on the ground and start petting him.

“Hello, sweet boy. I bet you’re not as confused as I am.” He licks at your cheek, and it makes your nose wrinkle, “Do you know where everyone is? Or someone?”

You swear he almost nods before trotting a little away from you. He turns to look at you nearly expectantly.

“Yeah, okay, I’m coming, give me a second.” You mumble standing back up. You catch up to him and he starts walking again, slowly with you by his side. He leads you downstairs and into yet another space you don’t recognize.

It’s the kitchen, that much is an easy guess based on the appliances and the great smell. You hear voices in the next room, a mild cacophony. Titus pushes his nose against a sweeping door and pushes his way into the next room. The conversation quiets as you follow after the dog, pushing the door a crack to peek in. The door opens wider, and you meet the eyes of an older man. He smiles at you kindly.

“Miss, there is no need to lurk. I have a seat for you at the table.” The British accent throws you off and you have a sudden sense of déjà vu. You step into the dining room and anxiety edges into your throat as they all stare at you.

“Wow, you look like shit,” you meet Dukes eye, a tease across his face and makes you grimace but relax a little

“Duke, language,” you hear the stern voice of Bruce Wayne, a far different tone then your mind remembers. Your eyes flash over to him as Duke mumbles a less than sincere apology. He smiles at you, but you can’t help but think of how tired he looks.

“Alfred made his hangover special. I swear it’s magic. It can get rid of just about any hangover.” You feel suddenly hit in the face by Brucie Wayne instead of whoever he was when he was scolding Duke. The tonnage and lilt of his words changing and he doesn’t look as tired as you thought.

“Oh, I’m not hung over. I don’t drink, Mr. Wayne. I do think I may have a flu or a cold. Maybe I shouldn’t sit, I don’t want to get anyone sick.” You say glancing at everyone.

“Honeygirl, I’m so sorry!” Steph’s sudden loud words make you flinch, and she manages her way to stand in front of you, but she doesn’t touch you. It makes your brows pinch.

“If I knew you didn’t drink, I would’ve never given you those mimosas.” She practically wails. You can see how distraught she was, but you don’t understand why.

“Perhaps we should not give drinks to others unless they ask for them, Miss Brown” Alfred says, and you can hear the light scold in his voice. Steph’s head dips in shame and you feel very confused still.

“Why should it matter if I drink?” you ask the question lightly not trying to backtrack Alfred’s scolding but trying to understand it, “Mimosas are just fancy orange juice, isn’t it?”

“Todd said you spoke about this.” Damian speaks up and you shrug your shoulders.

“My memories are not doing too hot this morning and I don’t know why.” You try to keep your voice level despite the way the statement worries you.

“Damn, I didn’t know you were that drunk. No wonder Jason was so uptight yesterday.” Tim says as he loads some strawberries to his plate. The family tenses, a physical thing that you can see.

“Tim,” Bruce’s stern voice is back again, and you would have assumed it was because of his language if not for the way the family had reacted.

“I wasn’t drunk. I don’t drink.” You repeat your statement ignoring the weirdness of the morning.

Cass moves around Steph and tugs you to the table. Steph still looks upset with herself but follows.

“Mimosas have champagne in them.” Cass tells you, “You didn’t know that, but you drank quite a few yesterday. Your hungover. It’s why your memories are fuzzy.”

“Oh,” you say flatly as you sit down next to Cass, “That actually makes sense. I hope I didn’t embarrass myself.”

After Stephs sits and everyone goes back to eating, you glance at the empty plate next to you, “Where’s Jason?”

That awkward tenseness filters into the room again and you wonder if something happened with Jason. He’s told about how he can be prone to fights with the family and you wonder if that’s what happened. Something sits heavy on your chest too. It makes you wonder if you said something to him, but you can’t figure out what.

“He went for a ride on his bike,” Dick offers, “he should be back soon.” You eye twitches as you fight the urge to squint at Dick, to let your mind imagine a mask over his eyes.

“Okay,” you mumble out before you start dishing your own plate. The tense atmosphere settles and the previous cacophony of people talking over each other returns. You give your compliments to Alfred (you had leaned over to Cass and asked her about the older man quietly. Evidently you had met him, you just didn’t remember it.)

You tell Bruce that he was right about the magic of the food, your body was already feeling better, your mind clearing a bit, but your memory stayed gappy. Every once in a while, you’d catch someone staring at you like they were waiting for you to say something or announce something.

Breakfast is almost over when you hear a door shut somewhere else. Everyone tenses again where you perk up. It was Jason, you just knew it and you missed him. You don’t know why he went out riding so early in the morning and without you no less (probably because you were hungover but that was neither here nor there).

The kitchen door swings open. You turn in your chair to smile brightly at him, but it drops when he freezes, eyes set on you. A worry works its way into your heart. He looks exhausted, like he hadn’t slept all night, and he looked like he wanted to run. He’d never looked at you like that.

“So, turns out she was blackout drunk, her memories pretty sucky,” Dick all but announces to the room. You turn back on him with a scoff.

“That’s rude,” you turn back to Jason, “but he’s right. If you have anything embarrassing I did, please share with me for my records.” You try to joke. Jason moves slowly pulling the chair out beside you.

“You don’t remember anything?” he asks slowly as he settles in the chair. He’s still looking at you like he’s waiting for something, like he’s ready to run should the opportunity arise.

“I remember a little bit,” you shrug, “my last solid memory is when you and Dick helped fix my dress.”

Jason’s brows shoot up in surprise and you spot even Damian looking shocked. It worries you a little. What had you done in your drunken state? Was it even something you wanted to remember?

“that’s the last thing you remember?” the way Jason asks you feels stunted. Almost like he has more to say, or he can’t decide what emotion to put with it. You glance around and find everyone watching you two.

“Did something happen?” you ask because you don’t like the blankness in your mind compared to the atmosphere of the room. You were starting to feel like you were the one that needed to run.

Jason’s hand settles against your shoulder and your whole body relaxes. You hadn’t thought that the reason you felt so on edge had to do with the fact that he wasn’t touching you.

“Nothing you need to worry about,” Jason says and it’s with that same unsure emotional tone. It bothered you a little bit. You think you catch someone out of the corner of your eye wince but think nothing of it.

“We should go home today.” He tells you quieter and you nod and whisper back, “I have to do laundry.”

“Maybe, you two should stay another night. It might jog your memory.” Bruce offers and there’s a flash of something in Jason’s eye you’re not sure about, but you turn to Bruce with a smile.

“That’s kind of you but I have to work tomorrow, and chores galore to do today. Thank you for everything though. I wish I had been more sober to remember the entire brunch.” You suddenly want to be out of this house. You’re even more sure Jason got into a fight with his family and now you think it might have something to do with you.

Bruce Wayne looks like he wants to argue with you. A stiff frown on his features and a look that feels like he can see right through you to the deepest darkest parts of you. It makes you a little uncomfortable. A gentle hand on your thigh makes you jump but it’s just Cass.

“I’ll go grab your clothes from yesterday.” She says reminding you that the clothes you’re wearing were not yours. Then everyone is moving from the table, and you feel like you missed an entire conversation. Jason pulls you up too.

“You didn’t eat.”

“I ate earlier, don’t worry about.” He says stiffly. You let him pull you out of the dining room and to the front door. Everything feels disjointed and you almost feel sick again. Cass meets you at the door with a small backpack, Jason halfway helping you get your jacket on.

“Oh, thank you, Cass,” you take it from her sliding it over your shoulder and she pulls you into a tight hug. It feels heavy.

“Don’t be angry with him.” She whispers and it has you squeezing her tighter, a rock of emotion suddenly in your throat but you don’t know why.

“I’m not,” you tell her as you pull back from the hug. There’s a worried look in her eyes and you want to ask but you don’t think you’ll get an answer. She glances over your shoulder and that worried look grows.

“Let’s go,” Jason’s near demand startles you, not accustomed to him speaking like that but you’re sure he’s wound up. You nod fully parting from Cass and follow Jason out the door. You give Cass one last wave before she closes the door.

He’s already at the bike and you don’t know when he got so fast. By the time you reach him he already has his helmet on and he’s handing you yours. You slide the helmet on and attempt to do up the straps. Something you don’t do, something you haven’t done in the time you’ve been riding with Jason.

You think he’s upset with you or irritated, and your hands shake as you try to do the straps with little success. Jason doesn’t say anything, just pushes your hands out of the way and does it for you. He climbs on the bike and offers you a hand like he always does. The intention suddenly feels different, like he’s doing it out of obligation rather than because he wants to.

The ride back to your apartment is in silence. You keep yourself from tapping at him like you usually do and his hands stay glued to the handlebars. He speeds, a lot more than usual, and it has you holding onto him just a bit tighter.

Back at your apartment, you follow the same tense sequence in reverse. The ride in the elevator is had in tense silence. It makes you antsy and anxious, shifting on your feet. You can’t wait to get to your apartment. Maybe then you two could relax and you could figure out what’s going on.

****

Jason didn’t know if he should be thanking some divine deity or cursing them. You didn’t remember. Or you did and you were just pretending you didn’t which didn’t sound like something you would do. Especially if you hated him for the truth like you had said last night.

He’s sure you can sense something is wrong. You’ve been awfully quiet and there’s an awkward pressure between you two. He hates it but thinks it might be his fault.

He hadn’t slept since he left you. He hurt a lot of people in his upset, trashed a multitude of Black Masks operations in one go. He got a stern talk from Bruce about excessive force. One he’s heard before and one he’s sure he’d hear again. But that was when he told Bruce and everyone else what happened before you fell asleep.

Not the no pants and you straddling him part. He’s sure someone would have stroke over that, but the part that you asked and he answered and that you said you hated him. Everyone left him alone for most of the night after that, an occasional check-in, mostly from Oracle.

It gave him time to think, but the more he thought about it, the more confused he felt. You had known or at least had a theory. Probably long before the brunch and you had said nothing. Jason had no idea you may have thought he was Red Hood.

You hadn’t even told him about your friendship with Red Hood, no matter how short it was. If anything, the situation just showed Jason how much you two weren’t honest with each other. Not entirely deliberate. It was just that you two didn’t lay everything out for each other. He didn’t know what that said about your relationship.

He didn’t know what your reaction meant either. You said you hated him, but you hugged him like you thought he would disappear. It’s why he actually came back to the manor to take you home. He was going to let Alfred do it, but he was afraid that you’d hate him even more. Because then you would know how much of a coward he was when it came to you.

But there you were at the breakfast table, happy to see him. Your mood fell from there and again, he’s sure it’s his fault. He watches you flinch when the elevator dings and it makes his chest hurt all over again. He wants to hug you, pull you close and tell you he’s sorry but you wouldn’t know what he was apologizing about.

You walk to your door fairly fast, digging into the pocket of your jacket for your house keys. You unlock the door with haste and Jason suddenly wonders if you feel like you’re being chased. You push the door open and step inside, only to turn to look at where he stops at the threshold of your apartment. You hop on your feet and smile like you want something.

Jason hates himself for what he’s about to do, but he needs space from you to think. He just wanted you to get home safe.

“I have to go,” he starts, and he watches your smile falter, your hopping slow.

��Oh, well, I’m off in two days.” He already knew that he had your schedule memorized.

“No, it’s- I’m not,” he stops before he can stumble his way through the rest of the sentence. He sighs and restarts, “I’m leaving town for a little while.”

“You’re leaving?” your voice is sad and small, and Jason hates it. He finally takes a step into the apartment but only to press a hand to the back of your neck and pull you into a hug. You ease right into it like nothings ever been wrong between you two, arms pressing into his back.

“It’s for work,” He mumbles into your hair, “just for a while,” he repeats. You squeeze him tighter.

“For how long?” he barely hears you ask. It’s a hard question to answer. When he called Roy to see if there was anything the Outlaws could get into, the ginger had been pretty vague.

“A week, maybe two,” He guesses. You pull back suddenly.

“Two weeks? What am I supposed to do without you for two weeks?” your joking, he can hear it in your voice, but the words tug at him in an achy way.

“What’d you do before we started hanging out?” he asks ignoring the way he felt.

“Literally nothing.” You laugh, “you gave my life meaning, Jason Todd. You must return from work as soon as possible; else I’ll wither away.” You’re still joking and its killing Jason.

He was starting to wish you remembered because this was going awfully for him. Last night you said you hated him, so he decided to leave Gotham for a bit. This morning you’re telling him he gives your life meaning and he never wants to leave you alone again.

“I’m sure you’ll figure something out.” He pulls you back into a hug, tighter this time, just in case. Roy had told him whatever mission he planned was dangerous, they always are. This is the first time Jason knew for a fact that someone wanted him to come back and that the same person hated him for being the Red Hood. He hated his life.

“I’m not angry with you,” he hears you mumble, and it makes him pause. Maybe you did remember.

“What was that?”

“I’m not angry with you. Cass said I shouldn’t be angry with you and that’s the second time she’s said something like that to me. I thought maybe you thought I was angry with you, so I want you to know that I’m not.”

Jason doesn’t know if he should be thankful or upset with Cass over her attempts to get involved but he would have to deal with it later because his phone was ringing. He pulls out of your hug but keeps a hand on your arm as he pulls his phone out.

****

You watch as Jason answers the phone. He placates whoever, someone named Roy, on the other side of the phone.

“I’m already on my way, okay? I had to take care of something.” his hand squeezes at your arm and understand that you were the something. He’s quiet for a second and then he’s rolling his eyes affectionate. He meets your eye like he’s over talking to this Roy character.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. See you soon.” He finally hangs up the phone and turns towards you. He leans forward and presses a kiss on your forehead, and you wonder why you two had been tense all morning.

“I gotta go,” he tells you quietly. You slip up to your tiptoes and press a kiss to his cheek.

“Be safe, okay? My life’s totally lame without you.” You say in complete seriousness this time.

“I’ll do my best.” He says it like a reverent promise and then he’s slipping away from you and out the door. He pauses there and gives you a look. You roll your eyes playfully.

“Goodbye Jason.” You say and finally shut and lock the door. You look through the peephole and watch him stand there a second before finally moving on. You sigh and look around your apartment.

Two weeks without Jason. What were you going to do with yourself? You set your borrowed backpack on the ground and settle on the couch, turning on the news.

You flinch at the flash of red that crosses your screen, a photo for the news report. You don’t need to listen to recognize that red anywhere. Red Hood. You don’t know that you’ve ever seen him on the news. You turn up the volume.

“-majorly injured. This new development might seem odd but months ago Red Hood had killed a man involved with a human trafficking case. The slew of violence exhibited this last night may be another sign that Red Hood is falling back on a path he had been on years ago. Commentary from local Gothamites offer a mixed perspective.”

“Red Hood has always looked out for the little guy especially in the harder parts of town but last night he was merciless.”

“I saw him beating up some of those gang members last night through my window. He was like an animal. I hope everything’s okay with him.”

“He stopped me from being mugged last night but honestly I was almost worried he was going to come after me and I hadn’t done anything.”

A few more interviews are shared with mix of people either worried or scared about Red Hood going on a rampage. Something scratches at the back of your mind, like you know something, or you should know something. You try to remember if Red Hood ever talked about his more violent moments, what made them happen, but you can’t.

You tug the locket from under your shirt to thumb at it. You wore it everywhere. Just in case something happened. You wonder if you should press it, maybe Red Hood would show up and you can check if he was okay.

No, you couldn’t do that. You were angry with him. He had gotten you kidnapped, and he never came back. He kissed you and never came back. Beside with your luck, you’d get Dick Grayson clad in spandex again.

You close your eyes and scrub your face. Jason’s brother was Nightwing, and you figured it out by accident (or it was intentional. He was pretty obvious.) you needed to talk to someone but who?

There was someone you could call. It made you feel guilty for finally reaching out over something like this. He had tried multiple times since you’d moved to Gotham. You answered maybe one out of thirty calls and the last time you saw him was when you visited home for Christmas two years ago. Your thankful for his patience with you and for not giving up.

You mute the TV and pull out your phone. Your scroll through the contacts and stare. He doesn’t hate you; you remind yourself, otherwise he wouldn’t call every other week. You press the call button and press the phone to your ear. It rings and part of you hopes he won’t answer.

“Hello?” you steal yourself at the sound of his voice.

“Hey Wally.” You cringe at the way answer him, “I’m sorry for ghosting you but I have a superhero question.”

Additional notes: Surprise! Wally is the flash that she knows. A few chapters ago I had mentioned something about slipping in some backstory for the reader and Wally is part of that (he is important for later on trust me). The next chapter also has a couple sneaky glimpses of her past too. Also, that missing memory is really going to stress her out, who wouldn’t it stress out? As always thank you for reading! And let me know what you think!

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #do i know you?#kandyscorner #kandywrites

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kandyscorner · 1 month ago

Text

Do I Know You? Part 24

Synopsis: You meet Selina Kyle, Bruce Wayne, and Dick Grayson (for a second time?)

Note: I know some of you guys wanted drama with Bruce but I was genuinely, like, not mentally prepared to write about him, so his time is very short and of course Selina is there (I am a BatCat supporter on the side). I don’t think y’all are prepared for what happens with Dick (I hope I didn’t hype it to much.) please enjoy!!

(Secondary Note: for those not aware. I am moving blogs. All older chapters of Do I Know You? will stay on @fanfics-i-find-here, any new chapters will be posted on @kandyscorner.)

Masterlist

Ten minutes and an empty mimosa glass get you nowhere. Your neck was starting to ache more from the dress, and you couldn’t find anyone you knew. In an effort to continue your search for someone and get some space from the higher than thou crowd, you figure you’d check the manor.

You find the door you came out through and begin your search, which isn’t much of a search and more you walking through the hallways of the manor at random. You still feel dizzy and warm, but the space from others soothes your mind a little. As you walk, you come across a lineup of family portraits in a smaller hallway, one that doesn’t seem to get much traffic.

You follow the photos and realize the ones you were greeted with were the most recent, so you speed up to move to the beginning. You pause at what you think is the start and stare. It’s an older portrait, but the family in it is one you recognize from your brief research on Bruce Wayne. Thomas and Martha Wayne stare at you with warm smiles, their hands resting on the shoulders of a young boy, who looks like a pale Damian with a wide grin, a young Bruce, you can only assume.

The next portrait is sadder. Thomas and Martha are missing, and Bruce is just a bit older. An older gentleman, one you assume is Alfred, stands with the boy. You feel the comfort the man is trying to ooze to the young teen with the sad, forced smile.

Next is Bruce as an adult with Alfred. Your lip quirks as you stare at the adult version of Bruce Wayne. You wonder if Jason realizes how much he looks like his adoptive father. The man seems stoic, no forced smile, but the way he stands with Alfred shows comfort between the two of them.

There’s another young boy in the next one. Black hair and blue eyes. He looks like he's pouting, like he would rather be anywhere else. You pause to try and remember the order of the Wayne kids. If you remember correctly this should Dick Grayson. The poor boy's parents had died in an accident, and he became a ward of the state. You could understand growing up in a traveling circus, your parents dying, and suddenly being stuck in one city. You’d be pouting too.

He's older in the next one, much more smiley. He’s handsome, too, you think. He could be a model. He’s missing in the photo after that, but he’s been replaced by another smiling boy with the widest grin you have ever seen. He has back hair and blue eyes like Dick Grayson but his hair is curly and just bit wild, two little curls framing his forehead. You're put off by how small the boy is, especially compared to the bulk of Bruce Wayne.

You're surprised by the next portrait. Instead of an older version of the curly haired boy, your meet a younger version of Tim and Dick is back. There's an odd solemnness to the photo, like an overbearing sadness to everyone in the photo. You move backwards and almost trip over yourself to look at the previous photo.

You stare at the curly-haired boy as your mind slowly does the math. Jason? You stare even longer. This young version of Jason seemed so… light and free. The Jason you knew always seemed like he was carrying a burden, like the world had been coarse and rough to him, but he still chose to shoulder its problems anyway.

You wonder what happened, where he went to not be in the next family photo. You wonder what happened to his eyes, all carefree and unmistakably blue. Jason's eyes were tired and green more often than blue. There’s not an ounce of green in his eyes in the photo.

“I believe you are in the wrong place.” You flinch at the strict woman's voice. You turn your head to find a gorgeous, tan woman. Tall and lithe with a pixie cut of brown hair. She wore a black dress that had to have been made for her. Her eyes are sharp and scrutinizing, and you feel like you need to explain every bad thing you’ve ever done to her.

“Sorry,” you rush out as you turn the rest of your body to blink at her. Her hard features relax once she sees your face, and a smirk makes it to her face.

“Oh, it's just a lost little kitten,” she coos at you and takes a few steps to stand in front of you.

“Sorry?” you say, more confused than apologetic. Did she just call you a kitten?

“There’s no need for that, dear. I’m Selina. Selina Kyle. I’m Bruce’s,” She offers her hand, and you take it. She wraps her other hand over the top of yours, “and your Jason’s, correct?”

Your mind is still trying to catch up with the conversation. You miss her tone and assume she means plus one for the event.

“Yes,” you nod.

“Poor boy has been out of his mind searching for you, kitten.” She pulls you into her, arm around your shoulder, and starts maneuvering you back towards the exit, “We shouldn’t keep him waiting.”

****

Like many people in Jason’s life, Selina is surprisingly strong, easily pushing and pulling you where she pleases. She speaks to you quietly like she’s gossiping, but you learn very quickly that Selina's idea of gossip is how expensive someone's jewelry is and whether or not it’s fake.

It's not long before two men come into view, one looking far more stressed than necessary and the other trying to placate him. It takes until you're much closer for you to tell the difference between them. Jason is the stressed one, which, honestly, you shouldn’t be surprised about. The other is Bruce Wayne himself. Up close to them together, you're startled by how much alike they look. They have the same nose, same angular jaw. They both have that knot between their brows that seems like permanent worry. Only Bruce Wayne has blue eyes and his hair is slowly streaking with gray hairs. Selina brings you up to them.

“Look at this stray I found wandering the manor.” She playfully pinches your cheek and you fluster easily, “Such a sweet thing,” she adds before stepping away from you and into the arms of Bruce Wayne.

“-okay?” You're caught off guard by the hand on the side of your neck, and it takes a moment of you staring at Jason’s lips to catch up.

“Yea, yea, I’m okay,” You nod, blinking at him. Your ever-constant urge to kiss him is back, and it’s nearly doubled. You feel very happy to be in his bubble again.

“I missed you.” You add, and he smiles so sweetly at you.

“Where’d you run off to, huh?” You can’t help but smile at his soft words.

“Your family. I met a cow.” Is what you answer because that’s where you went first.

“Damian took you to meet his cow?” Your eyes slide over Bruce.

“Batcow.” You say in a matter-of-fact tone, which, in hindsight, was unnecessary, but your head was starting to feel a little fuzzy, “And yes. You have a very nice barn Mr. Wayne.”

He smiles at you, and you decide you understand why all those people on the internet were into Brucie Wayne, if his dazzling smile had anything to do with it.

“Thank you, and you can just call me Bruce, and I see you’ve met Selina already. She’s my girlfriend.”

Jason mumbles in your ear something along the lines of “right now,” but you pay no mind to it. You're far more distracted by the knowing smile Selina sends you. You understand her phrasing in the house. It was a trap. I’m Bruce’s and you're Jason’s? and you had agreed.

“Oh,” You feel a little frozen as you're overcome with the realization that Jason’s entire family and slightly extended seriously think you two are dating. Which is surprising because you didn’t learn anything about any of them from Jason, aside from Damian and Alfred. Had Jason talked to them about you?

You spare a glance at Jason. His features are hard set, a tenseness in his shoulders that nearly makes you worry if not for the way his hand, which had been holding your face, settled on your mid back, his thumb barely skimming the exposed skin between your shoulder blades.

You wish he would talk to you. He’s done something, said something that makes his family think the way they do, but now is not the time for that conversation. You turn and smile at Bruce and Selina.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you pause, a hesitation before you admit something, “I'll admit to doing some research on you…Bruce.” It feels awkward using his name. “It's very rare to find a billionaire so willing to help. Um, I'm a waitress at Jackie’s coffee house right on the edge of the narrows. She keeps it open thanks to your old town business loans. Most people would say having a loan with no interest is bad for business, but I can appreciate what you're doing for Gotham.”

Jason’s hand pauses on your back, and you can see the curious flicker in his eye. Bruce just smiles at you.

“I met Jackie, a very sweet woman with a bout of bad luck. It's fairly common in Gotham, but I have as much money to spare as possible, and if it means helping Gothamites, then that’s what I want to do.” You don’t hear any childish pride in the sentence like you would expect, but you hear Jason scoff under his breath at Bruce’s words anyway, “Although I have to say when people research me, it's usually not out of the goodness of their hearts.” He continues. Selina giggles like she knows something, you’re starting to think that’s her default attitude.

Bruce seems intent on continuing the conversation, but another man interjects himself into the conversation. Both Selina and Bruce roll their eyes, but apparently the man is too stuck up to notice. Bruce shoots you an apologetic look and quickly shakes your hand before he’s dragged away. Selina is slow to follow him.

“He’s happy you’re here, kitten, and that you’ve brought this one with you,” Selina says as she pats Jason on the arm, “We would like to see him just a bit more, yeah?” The last line feels more directed at Jason. It has no teasing to it, a statement said in utmost honesty. Jason flounders a bit, not meeting her eye.

“Thanks, Selina,” He mumbles, and she flashes you both a smile before she follows after Bruce, stealing a glass off of a tray with a slickness that rivals even Jason’s exchanging of glasses.

Jason turns on you, hand moving from your back to your shoulder. He stares you down with a sternness that makes you smile at him. He rolls his eyes at you.

“Seriously, where’d you go, honey? I came back to where I left you, and you were gone.”

“Well,” you start, “I was with Duke and Steph and then Cass pulled her away and it was just me and Duke and then Damian shooed him and Damian took me to see Jerry. I thought Jerry was another dog like Titus. I was wrong, Jerry is a turkey. Then I meet Batcow, she’s sweet. Then we came back here.” You keep out the conversations you had with both siblings because you don’t want him to know how you’ve apparently given up on vetoing the rumors about you two dating.

“I started looking for you, but then realized how much my dress was hurting my neck, so I went looking for the girls, but I had no success with that either, so then I figured ‘maybe they went inside’, so then I went inside, but I didn’t find anyone. I did find a hall of family portraits. I think I found you. Did you used to have curly?” You finally pause, waiting. You had watched Jason through your rant. He had only a teasing grin, but at the mention of the portraits, it drops.

“Yeah, yeah, I used to have curly hair.” He says only loud enough for you to hear. You want to ask about the melancholy of the next photo, the one he’s missing from, but you continue with your story instead.

“You were cute, like a chipmunk,” his mouth opens like he’s going to defend himself but you keep going, “and then Silena found me and I thought I was big trouble but then she called me kitten which I thought was really weird but you didn’t seem to surprised when she used it just now so maybe its just a her thing then she brought me here and now your all caught up on our activities.” You finally stop taking a breath. You feel warm, still dizzy, but you don’t mind so much now that you can stare at Jason. His hand moves from your shoulder to massage your neck around the halter tie. You sigh at his touch, eyes sliding shut for a moment.

“I did not look like a chipmunk,” he mumbles, and as you open your eyes, you become aware of how close Jason is. You can see the swirl of green in his eyes, feel his breath on your face.

“How can I help with your dress?” he asks, and you blink at him. Take it off, your mind offers. You bite your tongue to stop the words.

“Will you help me with the straps? I can't do them myself,” you ask quietly, hoping your face doesn’t give away your thoughts.

“You know I’ll help you with anything, sweetheart.”

****

Jason led you away from the crowd into a more wooded area with a little pocket of space for some privacy. You explained to him how the dress worked, the four ribbons that were straps, where the other two were tucked away, and how you wanted them tied. He stood behind you and quietly went to work untying the knot to the halter.

He was warm, you could feel it radiating off him. You had to bite down the urge not to shiver as he would lean in close to look at the knot as he undid it. If he leaned in more, he could kiss your bare skin if he wanted to. You wanted him to.

You shift on your feet, the heat between your legs returning easily now that you were alone with Jason again and vulnerably so. His hand pauses to press against your ribs under your arm. If his hand slid forward, he could cop a feel with no problem.

“Stop squirming,” he murmurs in your ear, tone demanding, and it makes your stomach flutter. You want to move just to see what he would do. You stop moving, though, here not the right time nor the right place. His hand leaves your side to return to untying. The ribbon straps fall forward.

Instinctively, your hands come up to hold the top of the dress, pressing your hands to your chest. You know it won't fall, the dress is designed both to have straps and not to have straps. But you're in “the middle of the woods” with Jason, away from everyone else. If someone happened upon you, you didn’t want the dress to suddenly decide it wasn’t built to be strapless and end up flashing someone. Or heaven forbid, confirm that you and Jason are dating and tried to have a sexual rendezvous in the woods.

You feel the ghost of Jason’s finger skim down one shoulder blade before it dips into the back of the dress to tug out the hidden ribbon of fabric. Your breath catches as he repeats the process on the other side, hand not skimming so much as dragging across your skin down into the back of the dress. You feel warm, very warm, and you lean back into his touch. You must have moved more than you thought because Jason’s hands grab onto your waist, pushing you forward slightly.

“What’d I say, sugar? Hmm?” he says, his voice low and steady, the breath of it makes the hairs on your neck stand on end. You think he’s created a Pavlov effect on you when he uses the pet name sugar with that tone of voice. You literally stop breathing for a moment, resisting every urge in your body demanding that you step back and press yourself against him. It takes much more energy than you expect.

“Sorry,” you murmur as your fingers twiddle with the top hem of the dress. You keep your gaze ducked, staring hard at the grass as he shifts.

“It's okay, just hold still, yeah? Let me help,” Jason says as he steps to stand halfway beside you, halfway behind you. His hand comes into your eyesight as he lifts the ribbon from your front and brings it to your shoulder, meeting the back ribbon there. His words calm you, a little less low and more concentrated. You can feel him staring into your cheek, but you keep your eyes trained on the grass.

“Bows, right, sweetheart?” he asks, hands hovering over the skin on your shoulder. You finally turn your head to look at him out of the corner of your eye.

“Please,” you say quietly with a nod, “make them pretty too.” He drops his eyes to the ribbons and focuses in, periodically glancing at your face.

He ties and unties like he can't decide if it was done right. As he unties it again, he pauses to press the back of his hand to your cheek. It has you blinking in confusion.

“What?”

“Nothing. You just look hot.” He drops his hand and starts to tie again. You giggle at his words.

“Aw, thanks, handsome.” His hands stop for a moment.

“That’s not-” He pauses, head turning to the trees. He doesn’t say anything else as he watches. You wonder if he saw something or heard something with the way his eyes seem to search.

“Am I interrupting something?” a voice calls out. You flinch. Hard. You take a startled step back, right into Jason, your shoulder to his chest. You nearly trip over yourself with the movement. If Jason’s chest hadn’t steadied you, then his hand certainly would have, suddenly teleporting from your shoulder to your waist. His grip there tighter than before.

The voice that spoke has a certain joyful cadence to it, like the man is witnessing the funniest comedy show he’s ever seen. It sounds familiar. The voice probably wouldn’t have drawn you to it if it weren't for the words spoken, ones you’ve heard before. The man in question finally pops out of the woods with an apologetic smile that you know you’ve seen before.

“Dick,” Jason says gruffly, hand moving from the side of your waist forward, a gentle press against your tummy has you pressed more tightly against his chest. Your mind lags with everything happening.

“Jason,” you scold quietly, finding his name-calling unnecessary. Your brain slowly catches up as you remember that Jason has a brother named Dick. You stare at the man, the image of him slowly lining up with the photo you had seen inside.

“It’s okay. He’s just saying my name,” Dick waves off what your almost positive Jason was saying as an insult. He gives you both a disarming smile and you can only imagine what it looks like he just stumbled upon.

You and Jason, away from everyone else. You, flushed, according to Jason. The top of your dress in shambles, one shoulder entirely bare, the other covered by Jason’s hand holding your straps up. That and the way Jason holds you against him. This can’t be a good look.

“Jason’s helping fix my dress.” You rush out quickly. Dick takes a step forward and Jason’s hand tightens against your stomache. Its almost possessive the way he holds you, like he was trying to tell Dick that you were Jason’s. You quietly file in your mind that kind of like it.

Dick just continues to smile, “Take it easy, Little Wing.”

Your eyes widen and you suddenly feel like you’ve been hit in the chest. Despite how fuzzy your head feels, your mind connects the dots on why he seems familiar, and it has nothing to do with the photo in the manor. The phrasing of words at first had stuck out to you, but now, you understood.

Little Wing. You had only heard the name once before and it was from Nightwing. Your eyes track over Dick Grayson as he stands there. The comparison is easy. He’s already wearing a black button-up with an electric blue tie. Maybe he wasn’t trying to hide it. You can see it now as you met his eyes, blue eyes that were previously covered by a black and white mask at your last meeting.

Dick Grayson was Nightwing. Jason’s brother was Nightwing. You wonder if he knows that his brother is a crime-fighting vigilante. You don’t even know what to do with the information. Should you tell Jason? What if Dick is keeping it a secret on purpose? You push the thought aside, a problem for later, as Dick finally comes to stand in front of you.

He says your name with the familiarity of people who have already met, which you guess you had just not like this. You blink at him in disbelief.

“It’s nice to finally meet you. Dick Grayson.” He offers his hand, and you take it limply, still staring at him, nodding slowly. His eyes leave yours to look at Jason's hand on your shoulder.

“What’s wrong with your dress?” he asks you, but you're still taking in his face. His facial structure was so obviously Nightwing, you wonder why more people don’t know. After a beat of silence, Jason answers for you.

“Her straps were hurting her neck. I’m just tying them into bows on her shoulders.” His hand leaves your shoulder to show Dick his handiwork.

“That’s a shitty bow,” Dick tells him. Jason’s hand on your stomach moves again as he moves back a little, no longer pressing you against him. It snaps you out of your stare, your head turning to stare at the trees instead, trying to steady the panic you have from your newfound information.

“Yeah, and I’m sure you could do so much better, dickhead.” You don’t have it in you to scold Jason for the name-calling. His tone is challenging, and you flinch again at the feel feel of unfamiliar fingers on your shoulder. It has your head swiveling quickly and Dick pulls his hands back.

“Sorry, I should’ve asked. Is it okay if I help?” He asks and you stare for a moment too long. Jason huffs behind you, and you finally answer.

“Yeah, sure.” You say with a shrug because you’re still freaking out. It doesn’t take long, much less time than it took Jason, for Dick to have both of your straps tied up into pretty bows. You admire them with surprise.

“Thank you. They look nice.” You murmur as Dick steps out of your bubble. Your hand absentmindedly swings behind you, searching for Jason. He had stepped away from you as Dick had worked but you missed his warmth, and you need some comfort to cool your rapid thinking mind.

“Jason?” you ask as you turn your head, “Where’d you go?”

You find him a few steps away from you, out of reach, and doing what you can only describe as pouting, hard features and arms crossed in front of him. You have to shake your head to keep your focus away from how the material of his shirt stretches over his muscles. His face softens a hair when he looks at you, certainly not as much as it usually would.

“Just giving you space.” He says, and it has an anxious feeling crawling up your back. He sounds mad but you can’t figure out if it’s with you or with Dick, or with something else.

“Oh, but I want you in my space.” The words slip out of your mouth without much thought of who you're in company with. You just don’t want Jason to be angry with you. He glances between you and Dick before his gruff look melts. He easily slides back into your bubble.

“I’ll leave two alone,” Dick says, and you turn to find smiling at you two, something akin to loving pride on his features, “and Stephs looking for you. That’s the reason I came out here looking.” He waves as he steps back into the trees, heading for the brunch. You watch him go, still a little distraught about the Nightwing thing but choosing to ignore it.

With Dick gone, you turn on Jason. Your hands make their way to hold his face, some leftover upset still there. He seems surprised by your sudden cradling, most likely because you missed, hands landing on his neck before crawling up to his face.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, voice bubbling in worry. You can feel the tears in your throat. If Jason was upset with you, you don’t know what you’ll do. Jason mimics you, his hands coming to hold your face.

“Nothing's wrong, sweetheart. Why do you sound like you're gonna cry?” he gently swipes on the skin of your cheek, and you sniffle.

“I thought you were mad at me,” you pout.

Jason laughs under his breath, “Mad at you, honey? I could never. If anything, I was mad at Dick.”

“Why? Do you not like the bows?” Your head drops to look at the bows unsuccessfully because Jason’s hand and wrists were in the way. You end up pressing your nose to his wrist instead.

“No, I like ‘em,” his hand leaves your face to fluff up the bow you were trying to look at, “You were just staring at Dick a lot.”

You want to explain to him the reason you were staring wasn’t because you were into dick (he was very handsome, model worthy but that’s not the point). You were staring because you just discovered that his older brother is a vigilante who runs around in black and blue spandex. You couldn’t just say that to Jason, though. What if he didn’t know? He was already on rough terms with his family, you’re sure a lie like that would cause problems, and you already made a deal with Damian to make sure Jason spent more time with his family.

“I’m sorry,” you say instead

“Don’t be sorry. I was just jealous, it's stupid.” He tries to shrug off your apology, his hands leaving you. Your own hands on his face tighten, smooshing his cheeks and lips.

“You have no reason to be jealous. I’d rather stare at you than anyone else.” You say as earnestly as possible. You can feel his face shifting under your hands, trying to smile.

“Okay, Sweetheart,” his words come out weird thanks to his smooshed lips and you give him a cheeky smile. He wraps his hands around your wrists and tugs his face from your hold, “Stop crushing my face, I get it, you like me.” He teases.

“Duh,” you slide your hands into his and start pulling him, “Let’s rejoin the party.” Jason lets you pull him with mild resistance. He has a fond smile and its only when you get to the edge of the clearing that he’s pulling you back to him.

“The brunch is that way, sweetheart.” He points at the opposite side of the clearing and his arm wraps around your shoulder to guide you the correct way. “Are you feeling okay?”

You turn your head to smile brightly at him, “I’m great now that I know your not mad at me.”

“If you say so,” he says, pressing a pleasant kiss to your temple.

Additional note: So that reveal? Crazy stuff. I have been waiting to write the scene since the pollen chapter. Although to be far, prior to the pollen fic, the scene was supposed to be almost a little more steamy (who wouldn’t want to be sandwiched between Dick Grayson and Jason Todd) but then I wrote the pollen chapter and I was like ‘oh you know what would cause even more drama’ and now we’re here. Also she’s stupid, I’m sure you noticed she missed some important details when comparing that night to the current event (Namely WHO Dick called little wing). I promise it will be worth it y'all. I love you guys for reading and commenting. Let me know any thoughts!

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #batfam x reader #kandywrites #kandyscorner #do i know you?

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