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[onlyinmyimagination]

Love is Blind

Jason Todd X Reader

This did not turn out how I wanted at all ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Maybe I’ll attempt a rewrite in the future but right now I am so tired of this story. I sincerely hope you guys like it more than I do. I’m so done.

Very loosely based on this prompt: “As a dating company professional, I never thought that I’d be able to match you with anyone because honestly, you’re such a terrible human being. But, in our search we found someone who fits your profile, and since you paid us to help you find a match, here is their information. God Help us.“

Also inspired by those social media au posts that float around the fandom. those are bomb af.

Genre: Romance, fluff I guess idk

Sorta social media au/celebrity au??? idk (someone tell me what kind of AU you think this is)

Warnings: Some foul language.

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It started when Jason needed to quickly get a date to a launch party of some clothing brand by Wayne Enterprises (he never really cares for whatever new business venture Bruce Wayne busies himself with). He was supposed to glam it up with a partner at his side but he had put it off until the very last minute. His solution was to call up a reputable dating company because he simply didn’t have the time to screen the potential candidates on Tinder. And just like that, you were the dating professional assigned to him and he became your client.  

He hadn’t been the politest over the phone. He had been curt, a little aggressive, and much too particular about his preferences. Right away you knew he was trouble. But you resolved to do your best and stay professional. You had to compile his profile quickly and it was then that you found out that your newest client is a local celebrity. Hearing the name Jason Todd over the phone didn’t ring any bells at the time, but upon further research on your client you knew he’d be a challenge.

He had said he needed a date in less than a week and to his relief, you were able to meet him the next day with a potential match. Upon seeing your client in person you realized why his demands were so high. Not only is he the son of a billionaire, he’s also ridiculously good-looking and oddly intimidating. It must’ve been hard to find a suitable partner all by himself.

He had introduced himself, even though you knew very well who he was. He didn’t have as much attitude as he did over the phone, and he didn’t act as haughty as you expected him to be. With a practiced script and a customer service smile plastered on your lips, you invited him to sit at a nearby café while you reviewed the file of his potential partner with him.

He took the information with satisfaction and thanked you for your time. Unfortunately he didn’t last long with the match you found him, and you got another call from him a few weeks later. He needed another partner for an upcoming gala. And thus, the cycle continued to repeat itself, with your patience wearing thin and professionalism quickly dissipating with a few months. Before you met Jason Todd Wayne you’ve had a near perfect reputation, with an almost one hundred percent success rate with your clients. But he was ruining your reputation and it upset you tremendously.

“Jason, did you seriously ditch her last night?”

“It’s not what you think!”

“What do you...” you pause to take a deep breath and calm yourself.  You continue, “You literally ditched her at a party you brought her to.”

“Yeah, but for a good reason!”

“And what reason would that be?”

“Uhhh...I can’t say. But it really was a good reason!”

You give a skeptical look. “Did you even call her afterwards? Did you even think to apologize for leaving her alone?”

“...No. I got a little sidetracked, but I’ll do it right now!”

“She doesn’t want to see you again. I doubt she’ll want to talk to you.”

“Well that’s her loss.”

“Is it really, though,” you mutter to yourself.

“She seemed more than happy with me last night.” Then he adds, “Before I left her anyway.”

“What a coincidence—she said the same thing to me. I painstakingly searched through hundreds of files for her, and this is what you do? After you messed up all those other dates, it’s been near impossible digging up more matches for you.”

“I know, I know. I’m an asshole. But I also know you’ll find me another date in time for Bruce Wayne’s next big gala.”

“Can you at least try to be nice,” you say while shaking your head and rummaging through your files. “Nicer, I mean. I’m trying to find a potential lifelong partner for you here.”

“No guarantees, cupid.”

You eye him as you press your lips into a thin line. “I found a realtor who lives less than an hour away. Her profile is similar to your past matches and she seemed like she’d be able to put up with you. Realtors tend to have a lot of patience. Very admirable.”

“That’s pretty cold of you to say.”

“At this point, the one I feel sorry for is her.”

“Brrr...chilly.”

“From all the complaints I’ve been getting, you’re not exactly the easiest to be around.”

“You’re holding up just fine.”

“It’s part of my job.”

“It doesn’t change the fact that we’ve hung out longer than I’ve dated any of the partners you’ve set me up with. Technically you could say,” he says slowly, suggestively, “I’ve been on more dates with you than any of those matches of yours.”

“Like any of that is my fault. You get dumped after one date almost every time and I’ve got to set up a new match for you in time for your next big party.”

“Why don’t you just be my date from now on?”

“Not gonna happen. I don’t get involved with my clients.”

“A little uptight, aren’t you?”

“If you’re just going to pester me about how I do my job, then this meeting is over. I’ll see you in a week after this next one dumps you.”

“That’s ice cold.”

“We’ll see what happens in a week.” You plaster a professional smile on your face as you bid him goodbye but once you turn around you bite your lip anxiously. You didn’t want to admit his nonchalant invitation to be his date made your chest squeeze. Just the slightest interest toward you has you feeling a little too giddy even when you keep reminding yourself how much of a jerk he is. The more he flirts with you, the harder it is to stay professional. You feel awful and guilty about it, but you don’t get many chances to feel this way.  

Being a professional matchmaker left you on the sidelines as you constantly watch couples meet and fall in love. Finding love for yourself just seemed to be out of reach for you when you’re busy finding love for other people. And pursuing romance with Jason Todd is entirely out of the question. It became impossible the moment he became your client. So, you vow to keep him at a distance.

Just as you had predicted, a week passes and Jason Todd Wayne contacts you again for another meeting to discuss another partner.

You glance at the time and see that he’s twenty minutes late. You roll your eyes at this. It’s nothing new. His lack of punctuality is part of the reason his dates got so fed up with him. Bored, you scan your surroundings and see an ice cream shop next to the café. Seeing no harm in getting yourself a treat, you buy a scoop of your favorite flavor. You choose the cone over the cup to savor your treat. The purchase takes only a few minutes and you’re soon back at your meeting spot, with still no sign of Jason, of course. It’s a few more minutes later when you hear your name being called.

Pausing mid-bite, you turn to see Jason and don’t bother with a greeting. “See? What’d I tell you? It’s been a week.”

He chooses to ignore your jab and says, “Is that ice cream? You bought ice cream without me?” You’re caught off guard for a moment and you open your mouth to answer but he continues childishly, “Let me have some.” His hand is suddenly around your hand that’s holding the ice cream cone, and he’s guiding it to his mouth.

You’re fumbling over your words as he takes a bite and you finally say, “Go get your own!” You snatch your hand out of his grasp and gesture to the ice cream shop. He licks the ice cream from his lips as he looks over to the shop. That’s when you see the side of his face where a greenish-yellow bruise adorns the outer corner of his eye, just below his eyebrow.  

“What the hell? That was not there last week” you say, lifting a hand as if to touch his face. Then you realize what you’re doing and drop your hand again. “That looks bad. Did you ice it?”

“I did. But you should’ve seen it last night, it was so much worse,” he says good-humoredly but then clamps his mouth shut as if he had just revealed a secret.

“I don’t even want to know,” you remark with a shake of your head. You had heard about Jason’s mysterious bruises and wounds, but you never saw them on the visible parts of his body. Your clients on the other hand had often complained about him showing up with mysterious injuries, suspecting him of getting into brawls, fooling around with other lovers, and God knows what. You understand now why they chose to break up with him. Showing up with serious injuries and refusing to offer an explanation as to how he got them (or making some outlandish lie) would make anyone in his company uncomfortable. It’s disconcerting. But the longer you stare at his bruised face, the more you pity him. “Let’s just get you some ice cream.”

“For my face?” His fingers lightly brush over his bruise.

“I was thinking for your mouth or your stomach.”

He laughs and makes his way into the ice cream store. “What flavor should I get?” he asks as you follow him inside.

“Just get your favorite flavor,” you suggest curtly.

“But that’s boring. Predictable.”

You roll your eyes. “Then try a new flavor.”

“What if I don’t like it?”

You act annoyed to keep up a withdrawn attitude toward him. But if you didn’t know better, he seems like he’s biding his time on purpose and you can’t help but wonder why. “Please just choose something, Jason.”

He’s not fazed by your snippy attitude and asks, “You don’t want to share with me?” He stuffs his hands into his pockets as he examines the choices beneath the glass.

“You can share with your next date partner,” you suggest as you continue consuming your treat. He narrows his eyes at you and you hide your smile behind your ice cream.

“You’re no fun,” he mumbles.

It takes an agonizingly long time with a lot of back and forth between you before he could successfully pick a flavor. Then, in an unexpected turn of events, you both end up walking around while finishing your cold treats. You discuss the next profile with him as you both stroll leisurely through a shopping center. During this time, you find Jason isn’t all that bad. The complaints about him have been mostly regarding his carelessness after all, rather than his attitude. But you hate that you find him so charming. As if his good looks didn’t make you curse him enough already.  

The next time you see Jason is after a few weeks and you’ve agreed to meet at a local bookstore. You’re not surprised to find that once again, Jason is late and nowhere to be seen. While skimming the shelves, a book catches your eye and you flip through it curiously.  

“That book isn’t very interesting.”  

You turn to the familiar voice and shut the book. “Then what do you recommend?” you ask lightly, remembering that reading is listed as one of his hobbies.

“Well, you can’t go wrong with the classics.”

“Classics? As in?” you prod with a raised brow.

“Well there’s Charles Dickens, Jane Austen, the Bronte sisters,” he says. “What kind of stories do you like? Or do you like poetry? Plays?”

You hadn’t expected him to ask so much about your interests. But you remind yourself to stay professional, so you steer the conversation to the purpose of the meeting. “We can discuss books next time. I have another client’s profile for you.”

“Still as uptight as ever. Thought you eased up a little since we last met.”

“It was...a unique occasion. I won’t let it happen again,” you say while turning away in case your face gives anything away.

“So I have to get knocked around a little for you to be nice to me?”

“I am nice to you,” you say indignantly. “I’m just trying to do my job and find suitable partners for you.”

“Alright, cupid. Then who do you have for me today?” he asks with annoyance, holding out his hand for the file. He acts almost... sulky.

You hand him a folder and he flips through it quickly. You explain, “They live almost two hours away but—”  

“Too far,” he states as he closes the folder and gives it back to you. His dismissive attitude stuns you and you look back at him with a bewildered expression. Jason had never declined the potential partners you’ve presented to him before. Then he says, “Can’t you just be my date from now on, cupid?”

You blink and take a moment to gather yourself. “I told you, I don’t get involved with my clients.”

"What do I have to do to get a date with you? Am I supposed to fire you? Even for me, that’s kind of a douche-y thing to do.”

Your breath still at this. The thought of being fired distresses you, but at the same time, Jason’s intention behind his words has your heart racing.

“Are you serious?” you ask.

“Yeah. You gotta admit we have fun together, right? And don’t say it’s because it’s your job.” He is interrupted when his phone suddenly goes off and he takes out the device as if he had just gotten an important notification. You cross your arms while waiting for his attention to return to the conversation. As he scrolls through his phone, you wonder fleetingly if he’s simply just tired of all his failed partners you’ve matched him with. “Listen, I gotta run,” he says while stuffing his phone back in his pocket. “But how about we meet again tomorrow? Are you free?” Realizing he’s ready to speed off, you stop him with a pointed finger.

“Hold it right there! You can’t just ditch our meeting today!”

“But—but it’s an emergency!” he insists.

“Then come back after!” you reply. “If you really need to talk to me then meet me in front of the library at eight tonight. That’s where I’m meeting my last client today and I should be done by then. Will you be able to come?”

“Uh, I guess I could do that.” He looks unsure as he glances at the time.

“Try, Jason. I have meetings with other clients tomorrow so unless you can wait a few more days, that’s the best I can do.”

“Okay, okay. Tonight in front of the library, got it.”

You don’t manage to get another word in as he takes his leave. This must be the infamous disappearance act where he just ups and leaves, ditching his partners. Despite being annoyed with his flaky attitude, you’re more bothered by the conversation that just transpired. Did he really want to fire you?  

Regardless of whether he fires you or you resign as his matchmaker, you aren’t even sure it would work out with Jason if you agree to a date him. You didn’t exactly approve of his attitude after all, and who’s to say the relationship would last? You wouldn’t even be able to go back to being matchmaker and client if you ended up breaking it off, and then you would have no reason to contact him again. The thought leaves you feeling strangely forlorn, so you push the thoughts away and continue your day.

Later that night you bid your last client goodbye and you loiter around the supposed meeting spot. As expected, Jason is nowhere to be seen, and you lazily sit on the cement planters in front of the library to wait for him. After thirty minutes, you toy with the idea of calling him. But you conclude that he’s just being his usual self.  

While waiting, you pass the time on your phone. You visit Jason’s Instagram profile, telling yourself the action is strictly professional and for the sake of research. You notice a post from yesterday. It’s a picture of a playbill for A Midsummer Night’s Dream. He must’ve gone to see the play locally. You scroll down a bit to read the accompanying caption he wrote:  

“Love looks not with the eyes but with the mind, and therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.”

“Cupid, huh,” you mutter under your breath. The post has half a million likes and hundreds of comments, most of which are heart emojis. Did Gotham even have that many people in it? You don’t dwell on it too long and proceed to add the activity to his dating profile.

It’s another thirty minutes later when a noise behind you draws your attention and makes you flinch. It sounded like a thud, like something had fallen.  

“Why are you still here?” a voice asks, and you turn to face the infamous vigilante in the red helmet. “It’s late. You should be home.”

Red Hood is addressing you and it stuns you. But you’re distracted by the way he slowly staggers forward while leaning on the side of the building for support. This guy is not in the best shape.

“I’m supposed to be meeting someone,” you say unsurely as you stand. Not many people have had the opportunity to converse with Gotham’s vigilantes. Not as common an occurrence as one would think. “Am I not supposed to be here? Um, should I go?” You can’t help but dwell on his wording, the way he had phrased his words. A sudden thought creeps into the back of your mind that you didn’t want to surface, that you didn’t want to acknowledge.

“Heh. I’ve always thought that seriousness of yours is pretty cute.” Then he loses balance and falls forward.  

“Are you okay?!” you exclaim. Instinctively, you move forward to catch him and the next thing you know, you’re holding up half his body weight. As you help lower him to a more comfortable position on the floor you slowly register his words, and when you do, your breath stills. You had tried to push it down, keeping it at the back of your mind, but the implication is impossible to ignore. The timing is too perfect to simply be a coincidence. You nervously scan Red Hood’s appearance as you sit next to him. “Jason?” you try, not sure what answer you are hoping to hear.

He hums in response then he vaguely says, “You know me pretty well, cupid. Looks like you don’t need your eyes to see me at all.”

His words throw you off but then you’re reminded of Jason’s most recent post on his social media. If you hadn’t seen it, you probably wouldn’t have understood what he just said to you. “Love looks not with the eyes but with the mind,” you say softly and slowly, trying to recall the quote. “And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.”

“Didn’t know you were a fan of Shakespeare. Or have you been stalking me?”

“I have to keep up to date with my clients’ interests, okay?” you say to defend yourself. “I needed to update your profile.”

“Oh. Right, right.” A short chuckle escapes him but he groans right after and he clutches his side in pain. He leans his head back against the wall behind him.

“Are you okay?” you ask in panic, completely forgetting he came to you barely standing. Your hands hover just over his wounded body, wanting to help but unsure how to. You don’t care that you’re losing your cool in front of him. Professionalism be damned. It’s impossible to control the turmoil of emotions flowing through you, especially the guilt. All this time, you had criticized his awful habits and nonchalant behavior. Now everything about him is suddenly clicking into place.  

“You should be going to the hospital or something with these injuries,” you say while eyeing the blood seeping from his side. You notice cuts all over his body and even the helmet is cracked. “Why did you come here when you’re this hurt?”

“Well I said I’d come, so here I am.” His tone is light-hearted despite the heaves of his chest as he struggles to intake air.

“You’re already super late anyway, idiot,” you snap back, though you can feel tears pricking your eyes. “You shouldn’t have bothered. I was about to leave.”

“Kinda relieved you didn’t.”

“What was so important that it couldn’t wait until our next meeting?” you demand. You figure the sooner you get the reason out of him, the sooner you can get him some help.

“Come on, don’t be mad. It makes it harder to say if you’re mad at me.”

You bite the inside of your cheek and say in a controlled tone, “I’m not mad.”

“Let’s hope it stays that way,” he says before taking a deep breath. “I just didn’t want you to find me another date. I needed to tell you...God, this is going to sound so sappy but to hell with it. I don’t want any more matches, or profiles, or whatever. I’m in love with you. I don’t want to see anyone else. Look, I know you’re wary of me but give me a chance. Even Cupid was able to fall in love, right?”

For a moment you’re speechless but you organize your thoughts and say, “I consider Cupid’s love story more tragic than romantic. He really shouldn’t be a source of inspiration... or object of affection.”

“You’re totally missing the point of my speech.”

“You’re the one who likened me to Cupid,” you reply, trying to keep your emotions under control.

“Oh, so we’re just going to ignore my heartfelt confession, then.” He moves to sit up straighter and groans while doing so. You reach out to help support him but he grabs your hand instead. “I’m serious about you, really. Give me a chance. I promise I’ll be more honest. I’ll try harder to be on time. I’ll keep our dates. I’ll be better, I promise.”

“Okay, okay!” you hastily answer out of nervousness. “But how am I supposed to date you if you’re dying right in front of me?!”

“This is nothing. I just need to make a call, and everything will be fine. Easy-peasy.” He groans again as he leans back. He continues to grip your hand, clutching it to his chest. “But more importantly, now that we’re officially dating, can I publicly announce it?”

“You should be making this call of yours the priority right now,” you say while desperately trying to ignore the heat creeping across your face.

He sighs dramatically. “Can’t you let me savor this moment a little while longer?”

“Well excuse me for worrying! If you weren’t bleeding out, I would let you savor this moment however long you wanted.”

“I can’t help it if I want to celebrate. I’ve finally caught Cupid, after all.”

You study his expressionless helmet. "What would you have done if I still said no?” you ask curiously.

“Remember how I said I didn’t want to be an ass and fire you? Well I would probably try to get you to quit instead. Then ask you out.”

An incredulous expression crosses your face and you ask, “Get me to quit? How?”

“Oh, probably a little bullying here and there. Just me being more of a jerk than I already am,” he says while using one hand to slide his helmet off. You’re glad to see his familiar face after staring at his mask for so long.

“Wow, that is just as bad,” you remark, your voice laced with humor. “That’s an equally terrible thing to do.”  

“Doesn’t matter now, cupid. I don’t have to do any of that stuff anymore.” He grips your hand again and tugs you closer, making you lean over him slightly as a result.

“Yeah, because you made me a promise,” you quip, attempting to maintain your composure despite how close you are to him.

"Indeed, I did,” he says in agreement, his voice dropping lower and making your legs weak. He tilts his head and his lips ghost just over yours. “So now I can be cupid’s match.”

Your lips stretch into a smile. “Then, as of now, I officially resign as your matchmaker.”

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