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loser-mobile · 1 day ago

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Future Lover - Chapter 4 - Jason Todd x Reader

Synopsis: Situations.... develop. Jason 1 and Jason 2 are distinctly different around you and the Batfam are.. an adjustment.

Author’s Note: Sorry for taking so long. I fell out of it a bit but I'm still obsessed with ya boy JT. Personal shit, y'know.

Regardless, I hope you enjoy this chapter. It's a bit rushed, but please lmk what you think, and if you find any errors, if if you have any questions.

Content: Mild mention of injuries. Swearing. MDNI

Word Count: 4.2k

The bed you woke up in is huge. Like, truly, it’s egregious. The room you’re in has a darkly academic vibe to it, like a Pinterest profile just gave you a stiff hug and a warm handshake. You can smell the faint scent of vanilla and sandalwood, and it’s like waking up in a luxurious hotel, one that you could certainly never afford. It should be nice, but instead your body is entirely consumed by anxiety, and it feels like a hot ball of lead rests in your stomach.

Despite the opulence of your accommodations, you did not sleep well, at all. Your body aches from the stress and injuries of yesterday. And to make matters worse, you can hear a loud argument from downstairs. And then the sound of ceramic breaking.

Gently walking out into the broad corridor, you wrap your arms around yourself instinctively, digging your nails into the silky fabric of your pyjama sleeves. Damn, these are nice. Why am I surprised, of course they are. Why wouldn't Bruce Wayne have the best guest concessions?

��Why don’t you go fuck yourself, Tim!” The deeply bitter voice of Jason Todd cuts through the brief silence, followed by the raucous laughter of Tim. Just as quick comes a deeply offended and scolding remark from Alfred.

“Master Jason!”

You bite back a snicker as you quietly descend the dark staircase to observe the scene. You can see the broad shoulders of Jason, clad in an unfortunately scant white undershirt, and watch as he glares daggers at Tim from across the room, who’s getting a stern talking-to by Dick.

Alfred stands in front of Jason, one hand on his shoulder, trying to ease his temper. The many shards of a once-elegant porcelain vase litter the floor between the four men. Alfred opens his mouth to say something, but his eyes flicker up to look at you, and Jason turns, wide-eyed, to face you as you reach the bottom of the staircase. Your eyes meet. Wow, those eyes.

Your mind flickers back to the previous night. The family had invited you downstairs to join them for a warm meal prepared by Alfred. At their long oak dining table, you found your seat between a smiley Duke and Dick. And, as luck had it, you were seated across from Jason.

The Jason from the future had stayed downstairs in the BatCave with Batman. The two claimed to be coordinating tomorrow’s moves, but you suspected that Bruce was trying to avoid a conflict from occuring between the two Jasons. If the glares that were shot between the two of them were any indication, Jason and Jason would be beating the pulp out of each other at any given opportunity. Exactly why was yet to be known by you.

Uncomfortable silence fell over the dining room. Uncomfortable, at least, to you. In a room full of trained killers, you assumed they were well accustomed to the quiet. You tried not to breathe too loud, and finished your meal quickly and awkwardly, with minimal eye-contact with Jason.

The mansion that the family, and now you, reside in, feels less like a home and more like a well-decorated workplace. The rooms are all well known by battle, that much you can tell by the various nicks and chips along the dark wooden trim, and various scrapes and slices in the floor. However, it’s clear the building is loved, and cared for.

Although, perhaps not by everyone.

“I shall fetch the duster and pan.” Alfred announces, looking down and frowning at the shattered white vase on the floor, looking much like he judges it for being a vase in the first place.

Jason’s gaze breaks from yours, somewhat reluctantly. “What? Oh, no. No, Alfie, I’ll get it. It’s my mess, I’ll clean it up.”.

Alfred simply responds “Very well, Master Jason. Join us for breakfast when you are done.”

He leaves the room, followed quickly by Dick and Tim.

You look at Jason, then the shards of porcelain on the ground.Your hands fiddle with the hem on your shirt.

“Uhm.. hey.” You manage to mutter. You bite the inside of your cheek. It’s quiet for a few beats, before he responds.

“Hey.” He breathes back, staring at you with an expression you can’t quite decipher. He has his arms by his side, but you can see the tension in his shoulders. It’s like he’s preparing himself for a screaming match.

You steady yourself with a breath, and try to tense and then relax your body.

“I-”

“We-”

“Oh, sorry-”

“No, no, you go.”

You both chuckle sheepishly, and he gestures with a hand for you to speak first, with a embarrassed smirk on his face.

“I was just gonna say… uhm, I was wondering if… if you had a good sleep, that's all.” You peep out. Liar. That’s not what you were gonna say.

He looks at you, slightly bewildered, before responding softly.

“Uh, yeah, yeah. I did. And how about you?”

“Good! Yeah, good. Really good.” Liarrrrrr.

“Are, uh.. Are you guys alright? What happened?” You cast a glance at the floor, and the broken pieces of vase.

“Oh, that.. That’s nothing! Tim was just being an asshole, that's all.” He dismisses, a small scowl shadowing his face.

“Oh, okay. I thought I heard an argument.

“You don’t have shoes on.”

“What?”

“The shards. You don’t have shoes on. Shit. Wait here.”

He turns and quickly leaves, his boots crunching on the broken pieces as he leaves for some unknown room. You call after him but he’s gone. Sigh.

You look down at the floor, and try to map a path between where you stand and the entrance that you know leads to the dining room. Standing on your tippy toes, you gather all the grace you can, and begin slowly and carefully tip-toeing through the mess. That is, until you hear Jason’s voice again.

“Don’t-”

It startles you. You misplace a foot and step right into a thin slice of ceramic. The shard slips right into the pad of your foot, and you cry out in pain and shock.

“Fuck!”

“Goddammit! I told you-”

Boots crunch behind you, and suddenly he’s scooped up like a meddlesome cat and hoisted you into a bridal carry, tucked against his warm chest. He takes three short steps and places you in a chair in some sort of alternate sitting area. One of many in this mansion, no doubt.

“-To stay put.” He concludes, gently setting you down on the cushioned seat like you’re made out of glass.

You let out a small hiss through your teeth. Your foot stings. “Sorry.”

He doesn’t respond, but kneels on the floor beside you and lifts your foot to inspect it. His face is taught with tension and he doesn’t meet your gaze, however you’re not quite sure you want him to anyway. It seems whenever you look at him you’re pulled into some invisible whirlpool. Probably best to avoid looking like some sort of weirdo. He already thinks you are one.

“It’s not that bad. Won’t need stitches. You just need to avoid putting weight on it for a bit.” He informs you, turning his head to look up at your stupefied face. You nod. It’s all you can do, really.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise.” He responds curtly. “I can patch this up now, if you’d like.” He says, looking at you.

“Well, yeah, that would be good. Don’t wanna bleed all over the nice carpet.” You chuckle, half-heartedly.

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that.” He says, standing up. You hear his joints crack. “This house has had its fair share of people bleeding out on the floor.” Your eyes follow him as he stands up, as he practically towers over you.

“Stay here, okay? I mean it, this time.” He instructs, smiling.

You nod, and flash a polite smile back, watching him leave, then look down at your foot to inspect the wound. The shard pulsates with pain, lodged snugly in the front of your foot, near your big toe. You can’t help but wince again at the sight, and you cup it in your hand, trying to avoid getting more blood on the carpet below you.

In the silence, you feel the weight of your situation once again. This can’t be real, you said to yourself, over and over again, last night, like a mantra. Your body feels uncomfortable, and it’s hard to feel like you belong here. You feel too awkward, too civilian. That’s because you don’t belong here.

“Is it hurting?” Jason’s concern interrupts the doubts swirling in your head and stomach.

Your head shoots up, and he’s walking back towards you, a large red first aid kit in his grip.

“Huh? Oh, no, it’s fine.”

He snorts. “Right. Sure. You know, I fight crime for a living, I know pain when I see it.”

“I’m not in pain, just… worried, that’s all.” You shoot back, ending the sentence with a wobble in your voice.

“About what?” He tilts his head, kneeling beside the chair once again, and moving your foot so your ankle rests on his knee.

“Iris.”

“Iris. Right. The girl.” He softly confirms.

You huff. “Not the girl. Our- our girl.”

He looks up at you, wide eyed. There's that same unreadable expression, a cross between concern and fascination. You stare back at him, eyes equally wide. His eyes are like magnets. You can’t look away.

“Our daughter.” You barely mumble. The words sound heavy coming off your tongue, like speaking a prophecy into existence.

“Our daughter.” He echoes.

You blink at him softly, holding his gaze. He holds yours equally as stubborn.

He finally breaks the silence. “I have to pull the piece out now. Are you ready?”

You steel yourself with a shuddering breath. “Yes. Yeah. Do it.”

“Okay. 1…. 2..”

He yanks the shard out deftly before he reaches three and you let out a pained hiss, and curse loudly.

“Fuck! Shit, fucking-”

“You swear a lot.” He notes humorously, beginning to clean and dress the wound with practiced ease.

“You do too.”

“You gonna talk like that around our kid?” He jokes, with that same boyish grin.

That comment makes you pause for a moment, and Jason looks up at you, with a remorseful look on his face. He opens his mouth, looking ready to apologise, before you interrupt him.

“Of course not. I know how to act around children. I’ve worked with them.”

He relaxes. “Oh, really. What is it that you do, again?”

“Social services.” You answer. “Used to work in a school though.”

“You were on the bus yesterday, weren’t you?” He asks, focusing on wrapping your foot in a soft white bandage.

You blink. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I was. You were too, weren’t you?”

“Yeah. Why’d you sit next to me?” He asks, a half smile, flashing white teeth, ghosting across his handsome face.

Your brows furrow, and your lips pout ever so slightly. “What?”

“Everyone else on that bus was terrified of me. A few people actually chose to stand instead of sitting next to me.” He continues.

“I guess.. I just wasn’t really thinking about any of that. I saw a seat and took it.”

He tilts his head a little again, still kneeling in front of you. “Wasn’t paying attention? To the scary dude on the bus? You live in Gotham.”

“Yeah, yeah I know.” You wave your hands dismissively, and pout slightly and glance to the side, like a chided child.

He grins, and prods further. “So, you just didn’t see me.”

“No, I saw you, I just.. I guess I just wasn’t really thinking about that. About what you looked like.”

Jason lets out a soft “Huh.”, then taps your shin twice with his hand. You gingerly lift your foot off his knee and hover it above the ground. He stands, grunting softly, and holds out a hand for you to take. You do, and stand on one leg, wobbling awkwardly. The injured foot is too tender to put weight on. You resign yourself to hop around for the next few days, when Jason sighs heavily.

“Oh, god. I’m an idiot.” Jason chuckles softly, running a hand through his hair. “Do you want me to.. I mean I guess I could.. carry you?”

“Oh- oh! Okay.” You squeak out, and meet his intense gaze with your own wide eyes.

“Is that- I mean, is it okay?” He stutters out, composing himself.

“Yeah, yeah, I mean, maybe I should just… maybe I’ll get some crutches..?” You respond timidly.

“Oh, right. Yeah. I think we have some, somewhere. Let me go get them.” He says, leaving in a bit of a hurry.

You stand alone in the room, wobbling on one leg, and bracing yourself with one hand on the back of the chair. When Jason returns, he holds out two silver crutches. He awkwardly helps you adjust them, then helps you test them out. Then he runs a hand through his white-streaked hair again. You recognise it as a self-soothing action, and have to bite back a charmed smile.

“Well, uh, you can go through that door there, and it’ll spit you out near the dining room. I gotta clean this up still.” He gestures to the broken pieces of vase on the floor behind the two of you.

“Right, yeah. Okay.” You nod, and turn to leave, moving slowly and carefully on the crutches. You reach the end of the room, and turn to face Jason. But when you turn, he is gone.

God. This is so fucking weird.

Breakfast was hosted in the dining room, again. An enticing smell of various greasy and freshly cooked foods fills the room to the brim. A silver platter of bacon, sausages, and fried eggs sits in the middle of the table, and its contents have clearly been appreciated by the family.

Duke and Damian sit beside each other close to the entrance, and from what you can manage to hear, and for that matter comprehend, engaged in a heated debate about the various improvements that can be made to their respective field suits. Dick and Tim sit beside each other on the far end of the table, and from Dick’s glower you glean that the two have just finished a heated discussion of their own.

Nearer to the other end of the table, sit a blonde girl and a girl with short and dark hair, both in cute pyjamas and hoodies. They both look up as you enter, and the blonde in the grey hoodie immediately looks concerned.

“What happened?” She exclaims, causing the conversation in the whole room to fall silent.

You open your mouth, and smile sheepishly.

“I accidentally stepped on a bit of broken vase.” You inform the room, uncomfortable under all the attention. “It’s not a big deal, Jason helped patch me up.”

The blonde has gotten out of her seat and walked over to you, and immediately brings you to the closest seat to where she was sitting. Meanwhile, the other girl has gotten up and silently begun to prepare a plate of food for you. You smile at the blonde, gratefully.

Tim pipes up. “Jason help? Like, our Jason? Or the Jason from the future?”

You nod. “Yeah. Current Jason. The Jason… from this time.. Now Jason?” You say, unsure, and then pause. “I don’t know what to call him. Either of.. Him.”

Tim opens his mouth to say something, but is interrupted by the blonde girl.

“Yeah, we don’t either. I mean, we were trying out some nicknames last night. How do you feel about Jason 25 and Jason 45? For their respective times?”

“That’s so wordy though, Steph!” Tim quips back.

“I still like Red Hood and Blue Hood.” Duke muses, flashing you a charming smile. You smile back, snorting softly.

“It’s not gonna be Red Hood, Blue Hood, Duke.” Steph dismisses, but Duke just smiles.

“So sorry, but uh.” You pause, looking at Steph. “It’s Steph, right?”

She blinks, then straightens up. “Oh, yeah, we haven’t met. Shit, sorry. I’m Steph, yeah. And this is Cass. Do you know everyone else, right?”

“Yeah, yeah I do. And you’re… the Spoiler, right?”

“Yup, and Cass is the Orphan.”

“The Orphan? I don’t think… I don’t think I’ve ever heard of her.”

“That’s a good thing.” Cass speaks up. Her voice is hushed and raspy, still warming up in the early morning. She places the plate of food in front of you.

“Oh, thank you so much. I’m so hungry.” You take a bite of food, then continue. “And yeah, I’ve literally never heard of ‘The Orphan’. Guess that’s probably the point, right?” You reason.

Cass simply nods, smiling and blinking at you, and taking her seat once again.

The rest of breakfast passes with a lot of conversation that you feel you cannot, or shouldn’t weigh in on. A lot concerns this ‘Sergio’ character, and his goons that you met before. It’s strange to think about the situation at hand. You feel a strange sort of anxiety, a pull, to the city of Gotham. To find the young girl you are all curious about. It’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before, a restlessness in your chest that thrums through your whole body. And the questions that you have never cease, as they ping around the inside of your skull. What will her birth be like? Her childhood? What is she like? Does she look like me?

Is she scared?

“Hey, are you still with us?” Steph’s voice interrupts your mental spiral.

“Hmm? Oh, yeah.” You look over at her, to where she sits across from you. “Yeah, yeah, sorry. Just tired.”

“And anxious.” Cass interjects, softly. She looks at you too, soft concern and care in her eyes.

“I, uh… yeah. I’m worried. About.. Her. Iris.” You confess, leaning back in the chair, and staring down at the barely-touched food in front of you.

Steph and Cass exchange a knowing look, and look back at you.

“We’re gonna get her back. You know that, right?” Steph reaches a hand over the table, and you look down at it briefly, before placing your hand in hers and smiling reassuringly back at her. She gives your hand a quick squeeze.

“We have a lead.” Jason’s voice comes from behind you. You turn.

But it’s the older Jason. He stands, clad in the same, battle-worn outfit from yesterday, with his arms crossed, staring straight at you. Those same heterochromatic eyes that held your gaze in a vice grip not even 10 minutes ago, looking at you now like you’re not just worthy of love, but of worship.

You stare back at him, unsure of what to say. You just stare.

Bruce walks in behind him, cowl off.

“We leave in 15. Everyone needs to suit up.” He says, before promptly leaving to prepare. Cass, Damian and Duke all stand and exit the room, marching with purpose.

Steph gives your hand one final squeeze, and smiles at you as she leaves, weaving herself around the Future Jason to the exit. Dick and Tim, the last to leave, cast an unsure glance at you, and then Jason, before leaving last.

So it’s just you two. Alone again. Well, again for you.

You flash him an awkward smile, then turn back to the table, and he comes around to take Steph’s seat, the wooden chair creaking slightly under his weight. He leans back in the chair and watches as you timidly try to feed yourself.

“Goodmorning.” You softly say to him.

“‘Morning, doll. How’d you sleep?” He rumbles back, with the cadence of someone who’s much more familiar with you than you’d like him to be.

You answer as you had to his predecessor. “Good. Yeah, really good.”

He scoffs. “Liar.”

“I’m not lying.” You growl, like a warning. Please, do not fuck with me today, I’m in so much pain.

“Doll, we’ve been together 20 years, I can tell when you’re lying.”

It’s too early for this, you decide. “We haven't been together at all! You’ve been with someone else!”

“No, I’ve been with you.” He gently corrects, like a teacher with a snarky student.

“I’m not her!” You snap, loudly, and glare at him.

His jaw tenses, and his eyes flicker softly.

You decide not to let up. You’ve never been one to back down. “Where is she, anyway. The future me. Isn’t she worried? About her daughter? She should be here with you, looking for Iris!”

“She should be.” He confirms, looking down. A mournful look comes across his face.

“Well, where is she then?” You probe, annoyed.

“She’s.. She’s dead.”

Oh. Shit.

“You.. you died.” He clarifies. “She.. you… they killed my wife before I could stop them. Then they took Iris.”

“Fuck.” You breathe out. Your head feels like it’s spinning, and the taste of the food in your mouth is sour now. You feel a gurgle deep in your throat. You feel sick.

“I’m gonna get her.. You, back. I have a plan. I just need to get Iris first.” He says, almost like he’s trying to reassure both you and him at the same time.

“Our daughter.” You breathe out, gripping the sides of the table.

“Our daughter.” He concludes, nodding, and sighing deeply.

You level your gaze with him once more, inhale slowly, and try not to get too distracted by the various scars and shapes across his face. The stubble that adorns his chin, the crows feet that crease his outer eye. The cluster of freckles and lightly sun-flushed skin, and his eyes that seem to glow when they look at you. You chew your lip, and look down, then back up again.

“You’re gonna get her back, right? Iris?” You ask him.

“I won’t stop until she’s safe. I’ll crawl through hell for our girl.” Comes his reply, resounding resolve.

You smile warmly, satisfied. The first genuine smile you’ve given him.

His eyelids flicker down, entirely enraptured in your gaze. He lets out a quick "Huh", and rakes a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair.

“Don’t look at me like that, doll. I love it too much.” He grins, lopsided and wolfish.

You glance back down, hiding the flush, and the flustered smile that has pinned itself to your face, then decide to get up and begin putting your plate away. You move slowly and carefully and use the chairs to stabilise, not bearing any weight on your injured foot.

“Hey, where do you think you’re goin’, huh?” He stands up, and walks around the table to be by your side, and waits like a loyal dog, as you place the dish in the middle of the table.

“Going to have a bath, I think. Can you pass the crutches please?”

“Sure. What happened, by the way? Was that from yesterday?” He tilts his head as he dutifully fetches the crutches.

“Nope, this morning. Somehow managed to hurt myself in the safety of this huge house.” You tell him, getting the crutches in place before walking towards the exit and the staircase.

He snorts softly. “Yeah, that sounds about right. You’ve always been a bit of an airhead.”

“Hey!” You shoot back. “Rude! That’s no way to speak to your wife, is it?”

“Oh believe me, doll, it’s about the only way we communicate. We bicker like crazy.”

You smile, but feel concerned. “We do?”

“Yeah, it’s always fun though. I’m never bored with you around.” He smiles at you, and you force yourself to avoid his knowing gaze, under the guise of focusing on climbing up the stairs with your crutches.

“Here, let me help you.” He offers, holding out his arms in an offer to carry you.

“No, no, it’s fine.” You dismiss him. “I got this. Besides, you have to go and get ready.”

“I am ready, love. I have my suit on already. Let me carry you.” he insists softly, from a few steps behind you.

“You turn to face him. Despite the fact he's about two steps behind, and below you on the staircase, he’s so tall he actually still reaches your shoulders. He looks up at you, smiling kindly like a devotee.

Your eyes flicker down, for just a moment, then to the side.

“I’m fine, really. I can do this. Just slowly.” You reassure him. There’s more things left unsaid, and you both know it.

He pauses. “Okay then, if you insist. Could I at least walk with you, so you don’t fall?”

You sigh loudly, but smile. “Yes, fine. You can babysit me from here to the top of the stairs.”

He chuckles softly, and walks with you the rest of the way, hushly reminding you every so often to ‘slow down!’ or ‘be careful!’.

As you reach the top of the stairs, you turn to face him. On level ground once again, you have to turn your head upwards to see him. You flash him a friendly smile.

“Thanks, I uh.. I guess.”

“It’s okay.”

“You should go now.”

“Yeah.” He moves to descend the staircase, but about three steps in turns to face you

“I’m gonna get her back, you know.” He promises.

You just nod, smiling. “I know.”

“Both of you. I’m gonna get both of you back.”

“I know you will.”

He flashes a toothy grin, then practically hurls himself down the staircase again, as you watch him disappear.

Go get ‘em, Tiger.

HOOOOO BOY. hope thats good. If it isn't, i'll die.

Gif above is what I imagine the Wayne Property to look like. Do not correct me if I am wrong lol

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