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rebelfell · 2 months

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Who, me? Done with them? Where the fuck did you hear that? 18+ MDNI 2.4K

older!fem!Harrington!reader x eddie

cw: none except for actual, despicable, disgusting, nauseating fluff to make up for all some of the angst 💋

continued from here, index here

When Eddie comes to your house that night, he looks around it with wide, entranced eyes.

He only saw it when it was bare bones—plain white paint and dusty floors scattered with boxes. Now it was bursting with color and personality, shelves lined with your books, walls adorned with art and posters. A little calendar in your kitchen scribbled with various activities and reminders. Dishes from your breakfast still in the sink. Plants in just about every window, some of them with small tchotchkes hidden in the pots—figurines you’d picked up at yard sales or found randomly.

Your couch is velvet, a deep green that makes your throw pillows seem even brighter. There’s a thick knit blanket strewn across the chaise end of it and an intimidatingly long book lying out on your coffee table. It’s much nicer than the one he broke—a piece of wood shaped into an octagon with a dark gold grain polished to perfection.

In the right light, he can still see the faint white line of his scar across the center of his palm.

He finds your record player and starts flipping through your albums he only saw a small portion of that summer, most of them stashed away in the garage with the rest of your stuff.

And while he was looking at your stuff, you just looked at him.

It was impossible to believe he was actually standing in front of you. Like a dream come to life, a vision in a hunter green dress shirt tucked into black slacks. He had the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and he’d only buttoned the shirt half-way to show off the white tank underneath, the tattoos over his collarbone peeking out from underneath the skinny straps.

You watch him as he moves on to your mantle, looking over a little altar of all things you.

Seashells from a trip you took to Marco Island years ago. Vintage crystal candy dishes with lids repurposed into candles. A bowl of matchbooks from different clubs and restaurants. Pictures of you and your friends with your faces squished together in mis-matched frames.

And down at the very end, a copy of your book.

Eddie picks it up and turns it over in his hands, running his fingers over the cover and the spine where your name is embossed.

“You can have that, if you want,” you tell him. “I’d love for you to read it.”

He smiles and places the book back down, eyes twinkling. “I already have,” he says.

Your brow wrinkles instantly and you’re about to ask him how that was even possible, but Eddie is already offering an explanation. Apparently, right around the time he was starting his company, Viv brought him out to do a consultation…and just so happened to leave a copy of it laying out.

You shake your head and chuckle softly, recalling a Christmas in Hawkins that you found Corroded Coffin’s self-released album in your stocking.

Eddie turns toward you and his eyes land on the staircase that leads up to your bedroom.

He feels that old impulse—that ancient craving in him that laid dormant for so many years, now urging his hands to reach out and grab you and bend you backwards until your spine is folded in half he’s kissing you so hard. Your own smile spreads across your face when he looks back to you, but there’s a tightness to it. Almost like you’re wondering what he’s going to do.

Like you’re imagining the same things he is.

He doesn’t do them, though. Because he doesn’t want it to be like that this time. He has so many other things he wants to do first.

All the things he never got to before.

A slow exhale leaves your chest, a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, and he glances at the clock hanging over your fireplace, tilting his head at you in a question,

“You wanna go see a movie?”

It’s no Starcourt Mall, but the discount theater you take him to is only a ten minute walk from your house. You go there some evenings after dinner without even checking what is playing. They never have new releases, just stuff that’s a few months old by the time they get it, nearly ready to come out on video. And sometimes they show the really old black and white ones.

Eddie buys two tickets for the next show and holds the door open for you to walk inside. You pause in the lobby, letting the smell of popcorn imbue your senses, looking around at the scant number of other people milling about. He lets the tips of his fingers trail down the inside of your arm and wrist to lace his hand with yours, giving it a squeeze as he nods at concessions.

“You like Red Vines?” he asks with a smile.

It’s a good thing the movie isn’t anything of note, because it’s near impossible to concentrate with Eddie sitting next to you. You plop down in a pair of seats towards the back in the center of the row, you with the candy and a drink while Eddie holds the popcorn—only $3 for a giant ass tub, how do they even make a profit? he asks excitedly, his eyes so wide that it makes you giggle.

Then he asks you to hold it for him while he digs in his pocket for his glasses.

”Don’t laugh,” he warns, tipping his head down and squinting at you playfully over the frames.

Yeeeeah, laughing is not gonna be the issue. If the slightly scruffy beard wasn’t enough to send you into overdrive, the wire-rimmed glasses he perches on his nose sure as shit were.

The fourth or fifth time you catch yourself staring, at him, he catches you too. He fights back a smile while lightly brushing his fingers over his chin and cheeks, then leans over the armrest to whisper to you, even though there’s no one in the theater sitting close enough for you to bother them.

“Did I get it?” he asks, brows raising.

“Huh?” You blink rapidly, coming out of your daze.

“You’re staring at me so hard, I thought I must have something on my face.”

His lips curl upwards in that familiar cocky smirk of his and you roll your eyes, plucking a piece of popcorn from the bucket to throw at him. Already laughing, anticipating the move, his mouth opens wide and his jaw snaps closed as he catches it easily, still grinning as he chomps. It earns him the prize that is your laughter—the sound of it warming his chest from the inside out.

You hold hands the whole walk back to your house, only letting go once when he moves his to the small of your back and guides you in front of him so you don’t walk through a puddle.

And far too soon, you’re standing at your door. And he’s swallowing hard, throat bobbing as he shifts closer until the tips of his shoes bump with yours. And your heart is pounding, rattling all your organs as he looks up at you through his lashes.

“So, I should…go?”

His voice goes up at the end, making ita question.

“I guess so?” You shrug, chewing on your lip as you glance at your door. He nods.

“Good night, sweetheart,” he whispers, the short stubble on his jaw rubbing your cheek as he drops a too-brief kiss on the side of your face, lingering there to add, “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

You take a deep inhale of his scent. It’s lighter one than the woodsy cologne he used to wear. More mellow and earthy, like sage and sea salt.

Heaven.

The two of you step apart and he stays on the porch, waiting until you’ve unlocked the door and safely slipped back inside the house before he dares turn to leave. You place your keys in their spot on the hook by your door. Same as you always do. You step out of your shoes and slide them under the little bench where the rest of them reside. Same as you always do.

And then suddenly, you stop. Because what the fuck do you think you’re doing letting him leave?

You yank open the front door to find him standing there holding the screen door, his chest heaving from running back up the walkway and steps.

For a moment you just stare at one another, all your memories rushing back at once. A haze of summer heat, sunscreen and chlorine. Fresh grass clippings and perennials in bloom, messy sheets and sticky skin on sticky skin. Moonlight reflecting on the lake, thunder booming and pouring rain. Burnished eyes in a darkened hallway, a whisper of please, please, please…

And like tectonic plates colliding, you crash.

His shirt barely makes it past the threshold, your fingers tugging apart the buttons to push it off his shoulders. He helps to pull it the rest of the way off and tosses it aside before his hands find your waist, guiding you backward towards the stairs, the both of you giggling in between feverish kisses as you try and climb them without separating your lips.

You stumble through the bedroom door, him clumsily kicking off his shoes while you slap at the light switch on the wall. The red scarf draped over the lamp on your bedside table casts a haze over the soft and warm glow of the bulb, making everything it touches a radiant scarlet.

He wraps his arms around you in a tight squeeze before his hands slide down to palm your ass, lifting the skirt of your dress with his grasp. Lips vibrating with the moan you release, you put your hands on his shoulders and guide him downward to sit on the end of your bed.

His knees spread and he pulls you in to stand between them, black eyes shining up at you.

“You’re so beautiful…”

He whispers it, half to himself, his kisses being peppered along your collarbones as he tugs down the top of your dress. The air hits your breasts as they come spilling out of the bodice and his hands cup them gently as you come forward to straddle his lap. The breathy, stuttering groan he lets out as he feels your weight sink down on top of him instantly zings between your legs.

He mouths at your breasts, kissing over the top curves, burying his face in the middle of them. It makes you sigh, dreamily, as your fingers weave into his hair and you scrape your nails across his scalp until it makes him shiver under you.

He falls backward, bringing you with him as he’s engulfed in the softness of your unmade sheets. You place your hands at his pecks, ready to tear through his flimsy undershirt to feel the warmth of his bare skin on yours. Your hips buck, almost violently, starting a rough and needy grind on his cock, whimpering with each drag of your core against the growing bulge in his slacks.

“Hang on, wait—wait, wait, wait—”

Eddie gasps for air, panting heavily as he sits up, supporting you with his hands on your back. Your body stills, the grind ceasing instantly. Your hands at his chest, fingers still curved like claws.

“Are you okay?” you whisper. “Do you—do you not want to…”

Eddie shakes his head instantly, lips pressing to your forehead as he tries to catch his breath.

“No, I wanna do this, I do,” he breathes, “you have no idea how much, but…”

And those eyes. Those big, wet, round eyes of his scan your face as he dredges up the nerve to say the thought that’s been in his head for years.

Never knowing if he’d actually get to say it.

You swear you can feel how his heart races as you smooth your hands over his chest and draw them up to cup his neck. He reaches up to hold your face in his hands, and finally he says it.

“I don’t have it in me to get over you again.”

The words steal every speck of air in the room. You can’t even inhale because every atom in your body is frozen in place. You swear even the blood in your veins stops pumping for that moment.

And then you feel it. The rush of warmth in your extremities, tingling with realization.

You don’t want just one night with him. You don’t want just a few weeks of fun. You want to see him in every season—bundled up against the cold, his cheeks pink and snowflakes clinging to his bangs; wrapped in a flannel, raking umber colored leaves into a pile and then jumping into them; throwing his head back to catch raindrops on his tongue during an April shower, splashing in puddles.

You’ve been so distracted all night by how different he is now that you haven’t even thought about how much you’ve changed. Back then, you were so worried about what people would think—your coworkers, your boss, your family. Some people in a town you didn’t even live in.

You let all the bullshit win, you let it rob you of what could have been. Not again.

“I need to know…” He swallowed hard. “If you still want what I want.”

And you know you do. You know it down to your marrow, on a cellular level. But there’s a part of you that still wants to hear him say it.

“What do you want, Eddie?” you whisper, the words leading and heady.

“You.” He says it like it’s easy. Like it’s obvious. “I’ve only ever wanted you.”

You nod back at him, licking your lips to stop their trembling. “I’ve only ever wanted you.”

There’s a kind of peace to the moment that passes between you, a long exhale after a deep breath, a pause at the peak of a mountain where you look around breathless and winded at the majesty of the view. Your eyes scan over all the features of his face, all the details you’ve spent years trying to recall properly that are now before you in startling clarity. The faint dusting of light freckles across his nose, the natural texture of his skin, the fullness of his plush lips that are rosy red from your energetic kissing, his dense lashes that frame those twin black holes in his face.

Staring back at you like you’re the one who holds all the secrets of the universe.

“Then I…I think we should wait,” he says, smiling even though it seems as if it’s physically painful for him to say it. “I want—I have to do this right.”

You press your lips to his, your fingers curled loosely in the hairs at the nape of his neck. Not gripping—not clutching, not scared of losing him.

Just holding.

He kisses you back and you giggle, feeling exactly how much his body wants to betray what he just said. You keep your face close as your smiles touch, noses bumping as you whisper,

“Do you want some ice cream?”

prev┃next

okay, okay, okay, now I’m really done. Or am I? Again, this is all y’all’s fault ‘cos you go and say nice things and that makes me think about them more and then THIS HAPPENS!

This song also has to shoulder some of the blame…

#eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #TSITA

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whimsi-clown · 5 months

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What's the Best Way to Start a Story? Ah, yes. Death.

Part 1 of the Reverse lsekai Disney Villains x Modern Reader AU

(That I made on a whim)

Warning: Lots of Curse Words and a bit OOC

In a series of unfortunate (or fortunate, depending on how you view things) events, your eccentric rich bitch of an employer had just died.

Sad, I know. But they had it coming. Sorta.

Nobody really liked them. They were, to put it bluntly, an asshole of the highest degree, and they didn't have any living relatives or descendants.

As such, with you being the only person in existence who still stuck by them, gave a shit about them, and had the balls to deal with all of their bullshit, they decided to leave you with their inheritance.

From their large plot of land to their unrealistically big ass mansion with a private beach close by, along with everything inside of it. Money included.

It was all yours for the taking, and you were all too eager to accept.

At this point, you had everything you needed to live the life of your dreams. A large plot of land, a mansion, a near infinite amount of money.

Now, all you needed left in this big and lonely mansion...

Was companionship...

...

Yea, no. We'll skip that for now.

So, with that in mind, after setting down the remaining boxes of your belongings that you had just brought in, you decided to stroll through the halls of the place, eager to familiarize yourself with your new home.

Your eyes perking in interest as you spot a door that you had never seen before, curiously entering it with a new wave of excitement as to what you could find (or possibly sell) on the other side.

Nothing could ruin this day for you!

Something has just ruined this day for you.

You groaned, dragging your hands down your face as 12 of the most iconic Disney Villains settled on the set of couches before you with crossed arms, disgruntled expressions, and glares aimed your way.

Maleficent sat on the lone couch to your left, while Grimhilde, the evil queen, sat on the other couch to your right, both looking at you with displeased glares.

On the main couch sat Ursula, Cruela De Vil, Dr. Facilier and Jafar. All sharing the same disgruntled expression, like they have better things to do than be in this predicament.

And those who decided to stand behind the couch were Hades, Captain Hook, Shan Yu, and Gaston. All of them with their arm crossed.

Finally, seated on the carpeted floor before the couches are Scar and Oogie Boogie. Who looked bored out of their minds.

You let out yet another groan.

How did you end up in this situation again??

Ah, right. The mysterious room.

For those of you who are wondering, here's what went down literal hours ago.

You had entered what looked like an old storage room, flicked the light switch on, and discovered that it was filled to the brim with various antiques and junk.

Looking around, you felt like a kid in a candy store, discovering the various curious objects that your former employer collected, lining each shelf.

Everything was so interesting (and sellable) to you.

But what stood out to you the most, though, was an assortment of random items set up on a row of pedestals.

A staff broken in half, a shattered mirror, an unlit greek looking torch lying on its side, a dusty lamp, a tarnished silver hook, a vintage hunting rifle, an old scattered deck of tarot cards, a weird wavy looking sword (a quick google search informed you that it was a serrated jagged jian), a lion skull (not even gonna question how your employer got their hands on these ethically), a gold nautilus shell necklace, an exotic black and white fur coat of some animal (again, not gonna question how they were ethically acquired), and finally a set of red hand carved dices.

With a wide shit eating grin and dollar signs in your eyes, you decided on the spot that these would definitely sell for a large amount of money and decided to take a picture of them to post online.

However, before you could take the shot, you realized something.

No one would buy any of this junk if you sell them as they looked now, like junk!

So, with a new goal in mind, you quickly set out to grab whatever cleaning materials you could find.

And when you came back, you glued together the two broken parts of the staff, put back the pieces of the shattered mirror back in place, set the unlit greek torch up, rubbed the dust off of the lamp, polished the silver hook, cleaned the vintage hunting rifle, stacked and rearanged the deck of tarot cards, sharpened the weird wavy sword, dusted the lion skull, washed the gold nautilus shell pendant in soapy water, and brushed the exotic fur coat.

When all was done, you stood back with your hands on your hips, a prideful grin stretching across your face at having cleaned all of the useless junk before you.

If only you had the same amount of energy and enthusiasm when it comes to cleaning the rest of your house.

You were about to take a picture again when you realized you weren't completely done. There was still one item left.

The pair of red dice.

You stared down at the dices in contemplation. For some reason, something about them didn't seem to sit right with you.

One dice had a six facing up, while the other had a five. Making it an eleven in total.

You grabbed the dices, shaking them around in the palm of your hand and without much of a thought, threw them onto its pedestal. Watching as it rolled on the surface before stopping, both dices landed on a one.

Snake eyes.

All of a sudden, the lights in the room started to flicker and turn off completely, leaving you in the dark.

You cursed under your breath as you were about to turn the flashlight on your phone when you noticed that the dices were glowing green, like one of those shitty glow in the dark star stickers you had as a kid.

Suddenly, the dices weren't the only thing glowing as the fur coat was glowing white, followed by the shell pendant glowing gold, the lion skull glowing green, the sword glowing a dull blue, the tarot deck glowing purple, the hunting rifle glowing red, the hook glowing gold as well, the lamp glowing red too, the torch glowing blue which also lit up in blue flames on it's own, the mirror glowing purple, and finally the staff glowing green.

Each of the items slowly hovered in the air, wind seeming to pick up around you despite the lack of windows, and then suddenly a burst of green smoke spread throughout the room, temporarily blinding you as you coughed into your fist.

You swatted your hands around to clear the smoke, rubbing your teary eyes when a sound caught your attention. Not just any sound, it was the sound of a person, no, people! It was the sound of people!

When the smoke finally cleared, you were greeted by the sight of a dogpile of people, all groaning and moaning in pain, some muttering curses under their breaths as they struggled to get up from their current positions.

"Get off of me, you fools!"

A comanding feminine voice exclaimed.

"Ugh, you first, I can feel you stepping on my tail."

Another masculine voice grumbled.

"Ugh, get your slimey apendeges off of me, woman!"

Another masculine voice exclaimed in disgust.

"For the last time. It's not slime, you narcissistic oaf, it's mucus!"

Yet another feminine voice retorted.

"She's actually right, ya know? It's mucus, not slime. Had to learn that the hard way."

Yet another masculine voice says, agreeing with the person who spoke before them.

Whilst they were still arguing with one another, you figured now would be a great time to escape, slowly backing away, careful not to make a sound when you flinch as your back hits something sturdy and warm.

With a nervous gulp, you slowly crained your neck up only to see a tall gray skinned man with shark like teeth and blue flames for hair, looking down at you with a wide toothy grin.

"Hey there, nice to meet cha', you goin' somewhere, babes?"

The gray man asked in a casual tone, a hint of a threat hidden beneath it. Before you could respond, you yelped in surprise as you were suddenly grabbed by the back collar of your shirt and lifted a few feet away from the ground.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?~"

You froze as you were suddenly face to face with a big talking sack, your face growing pale when you noticed a centipede crawling out of its open stitched mouth.

The thing before you seemed to notice this, grinning even wider as they brought you closer to its face.

"What's wrong, little one? You feeling ssscaareeddd?~"

A snake had just slithered out of its mouth like a tongue and hissed at you as it trailed off the word 'scared'. Which made you scream as you kicked at his face in response, causing the thing to drop you as it held its face in pain.

"UGH! YOU LITTLE-"

The commotion seemed to finally catch the others' attention, finally registering your presence.

Before you could run off and escape, though, a tendril of black smoke wrapped around you, restricting your movement as it pulled you closer to the blue flame headed guy who merely chuckled as you thrashed around in his grip, successfully getting your arms out before trying to tug and yank the rest of the smokey tendrils off of you.

"Hey, fellas, I think I found the culprit to our little... Heh, predicament..."

The blue flame haired guy announced as he pulled you closer to him and grabbed ahold of your cheeks with one hand, forcing you to face the rest of the group.

The rest of them then approached, crowding around and glaring down at you.

"So you're the reason why we're in this mess... Speak. Why have you brought us here?"

The beautiful woman before you asked, no, commanded. Her pose is regal and sophisticated even as she looks down on you. She wore a golden crown atop her head, with a purple velvet dress and a black cape.

Your face morphed in confusion as you stared up at her, practically scanning her features.

For some reason, you feel like you've met her before.

You turn to the others as well, scanning them from head to toe.

A tall mean looking lady with greenish skin and black horns, a grumpy arabian guy dressed in red and black, a big intimidating asian dude, a woman with melanie martinez's hair but if she were emo, a guy that looks like a himbo, a fat drag queen with tentacles and light purplish skin, twinkish looking man with a fancy hat dressed in all red, twinkish looking man with a fancy hat no. 2 dressed in all purple, and a literal fucking lion.

After staring at the crowd before you, you turned your head back to properly look at the other three you had just met. The fat sack of creepy crawlies, the shark teethed flame head, and the literal fucking queen.

Stupid. That's what you currently felt. Not scared, not happy. Stupid.

How could you not recognize the people before you?? They were your literal childhood before you grew out of them. Gods, you felt so dumb for not realizing it sooner!

They were all Disney Villains!

Noticing that you seemed disappointed about something rather than fearful of their presence, the villains turned to one another with looks of confusion. Not used to this kind of reaction.

Hades, who still held you hostage decided to shake you out of whatever it is you were so hung up about.

"Oy, kid. You still with us? Kinda rude to just space out on people ya know?"

He asked, successfully snapping you out of your momentary internal berating.

"I... I know you guys..."

You muttered out loud, still in disbelief of the situation.

This caused the villains to smirk and perk up a little smugly, their ego rising at the thought of being recognized by someone they deemed lesser than then. Especially a certain muscle head.

"Ah yes, of course you've heard about the great Gasto-"

"You're all disney villains!"

You unintentionally cut off him off, your eyes widening as you clamped your mouth shut with your hands in realization of your mistake.

The villains were also caught off guard, not by your interruption, but by your statement.

"Disney... Villains?..."

Shan Yu slowly repeated, confusion evident in his tone.

You kept your mouth clamped shut, refusing to respond until a silver hook was pressed against your neck.

"You better spill, little one, or I'll slice through that pretty little neck of yours, and you don't want that now, do you?"

Captain Hook threatened, pressing his hook closer to your neck, nearly breaking the skin.

That was what led to all of you gathered in the living room, after begging asking to be released so you could explain to them, glancing at each disney villain from Maleficent to Oogie Boogie.

When Oogie Boogie noticed that you had glanced down at him, he sent you an eerie grin that made shivers crawl down your spine.

Out of all the Disney Villains present, He unsettled you the most.

The other's existence was reasonable and made sense to you.

Evil human beings of higher power and capabilities? Fine. A literal dark fae, an octupus lady, and a greek god? Good. A talking lion? Amazing. But a literal walking, talking, sack of bugs?

Burn it to the ground.

You take in a deep breath, exhaling through your nose in an effort to stay calm (spoiler alert it is not working) as you face the group of animated evil doers come to life with an uneasy smile.

"So... What would you like to know first?"

End of Part 1

Next Part

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cerealkiller740 · 8 months

Text

1953 Whitman’s Sampler Chocolates Valentines advertisement with Elizabeth Taylor

#1953 #Whitman’s #sampler #candy #chocolate #valentines #box #cerealkiller #vintage food #food #vintage advertising #vintage magazine #kitchen #magazine #1950s #50s #50s ads

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writing-mlm · 6 months

Note

jason todd x reader please 😔

The ShopKeep and the Hobbyist [J.T]

Summary: Jason's been going to this bookstore for long enough that he's developed a bit of a reputation with them. If only the cute cashier would understand he's trying to flirt but as fate would have it, one knife chase later, and maybe they're more than worker and costumer. Pairing: Jason Todd x Male!Reader WC: 7.3k TW: use of fag but its a quote

Jason traveled out of Gotham once a week, always on a Sunday, always to the same location for three entire hours. Everyone knew that Sunday from noon to four— accounting for traffic and eating out that might happen, that Jason was absolutely unavailable. Unless you physically went to track him down.

But that’s yet to happen.

It’s Sunday and Jason arrived at the normal spot earlier than usual. Traffic was amazing, no accidents on the way out of Gotham, and the highway was thankfully void. He parked his bike in his normal spot, right in front of the store, and lifted the visor to the helmet before heading inside.

The Open Book had always welcomed Jason, even when the shop was closed in the middle of a blizzard. And he helped where he could (Wayne Enterprises always made a large monthly donation to the shop and for some odd reason, someone had gifted the shop a fake bird that is able to stop any thefts(odd)).

“New shipment came in today,” The store owner's grandson greeted him, leaning across the counter to grab at the basket of free candies the shop offered. “Snagged this vintage-looking book collection for ya.” Ever since word that a Wayne kid visits the bookshop, sales have grown so it’s hard keeping certain items in stock. Especially the fancy-looking titles.

“Do tell,” He grabs a bite-sized chocolate and rips the packet open while you set your lollipop wrapper into your apron pocket before ducking under the counter.

“Shits heavy,” You grunt, slamming the box onto the table and read the label. “Uhh, ‘William Shakespeare, Comedies, Histories, & Tragedies. Published According to the True Originall Copies, 1623.’ Original is spelled wrong, though,” You look up at him and pause at his wide-eyed, clearly shocked expression.

“Shakespeare fan?” You ask, opening the flap to the box. “There’s a bunch of them in here. I think this was someone’s collection.”

“Do you know how much it’s worth?” Jason laughs, peering into the box, and then whistles.

“Probably a hundred at the most,” You shrug and he slaps the table with a loud Ha! that makes you look at him, crossing his arms. “Fifty?”

“Try nine mil,” The lollipop falls from your mouth as you look from Jason to the book collection.

“For all of it?” You gape.

“For the top book,” He corrects. “Thank god you snagged it before someone who cared did.”

“Yeah,” You sigh, staring at the book and taking in all of the details. That’s more than you’ll ever make in a lifetime. “What should I do? Do you want it?”

“Want it like I need air,” He admits, handing you another lollipop. “But you should probably auction it, get a stack and whatnot.”

“Grams would get pissed,” You shake your head and slide the box towards him. “Believes books should be read, not stored as an artifact, yknow? Think she marked this box as a hundred, want me to ring it up?” He looks at you and takes his helmet off so you can fully see his are you stupid? look that’s plastered on his face.

“(Y/n),” Jason slides the box back. “This is worth more than every single book in here!” And as much as he pained Jason to say that, he knew it was true. With over two entire floors filled with books, they were but a drop in the bucket compared to that singular box sitting between the two of you.

“It’s just paper and ink,” You shrug, staring at the box. “Besides, she’d get mad if I did and I can’t exactly hide nine million dollars!” Sighing through his nose, he agrees to buy the box and has you set it aside while he goes about shopping.

“You’re staring,” Someone tells him as they walk past and his head spins around to see who it is. It’s one of your younger sisters, around twelve or thirteen, if he remembers right.

“Wasn’t,” He tells her and picks up a book. “I was looking at this book!” She turns back to him and raises her eyebrows at the title before grinning.

“Didn’t take you as an Ice Breaker fan,” She chides and walks away while Jason stares at the book. It could’ve been basically any other book. Putting the book back, Jason returns to his actual book shopping which only takes ten or so minutes. He knows his bag is going to be heavy with the Shakeseapre books so he can’t get too many other books this week.

“Light load,” You comment, scanning the books. “You bought this one a month ago, too.” You note, holding off on scanning A Good Girls Guide to Murder.

“My sister wants to read it,” He explains, flipping through the pages. “And she likes to dogear pages.” Cringing, you scan the book and read him his total before leaning against the counter. It’s a large enough counter that most of your body can rest against it while he pays while you use your phone to order some lunch.

“That place sucks ass,” Jason comments as he’s putting his card away. You roll your eyes and look up at him.

“I’m hungry as shit and there’s no good places around within a reasonable price, this place has decent grilled cheeses.” You justify and he finishes paying.

“What would you have gotten?” He muses, leaning against the counter so the two of you are face to face. Staring at the sad picture of a grilled cheese you huff.

“Five guys,” You admit, looking back at him. He nods, silently urging you to continue while looking you up and down, his eyes slowly moving. You also don’t notice it or the small smile on his face when you don’t move away from him. “Strawberry milkshake and grilled cheeseburger.” You finished.

“No fries?” He asks and you shake your head.

“I don’t really eat fries from there,” You admit, fiddling with the skin around your nails.

“Sounds good,” He tilts his head a bit, grinning so his canines are showing. He watches as your eyes dip once and then twice to his lips before they finally stay on his face.

“It’s fucking good. An arm and a leg, but still,” Standing up, you groan and stretch. He stands up too and puts on his helmet. You watch and wait for him to dip his head down before giving his head two pats. For good luck, of course.

When he leaves, you return to your seat and look over the shop. There’s a dozen or so people inside, some people who are clearly not there for books as they’re recording those random interviews with the tiny microphones and such. You should really stop them, maybe put up a sign or something. But they’re leaving anyway. So it doesn’t really matter.

“Did you kiss?” Your sister asks, walking over to grab one of the candies.

“Girl,” Your face scrunches and she tosses the wrapper at you but it falls short.

“Just saying, seemed awfully close.” She shrugs. “I would’ve made a move on him a long time ago.”

“You’re ten.” Huffing, she huffs back and puts her hands on her hips.

“Nineteen,” She corrects. Making a talking motion with your hand, she smacks it away and throws a fireball candy at you. “That’s why you’re forty and a virgin!”

“Neither of those are true,” You stress, tossing the candy back into the bowl. “And didn’t you just get dumped by some loser who said he’d absolutely eat a turducken covered in chocolate?” She rolls her eyes and walks behind the counter to sign into work.

“I dumped him,” She corrects. “Unlike your failed relationship with the guy who wanted you to pretend to be a woman.”

“Too low,” You sigh, shaking your head. “Too low.”

—

With your lunch break in full swing, you’re upstairs in the break room watching some crappy straight-to-DVD movie your father had bought years back while eating the very sad grilled cheese when the door opens. Half expecting it to be another family member, you don’t look away from the TV and give a small hey but when no one replies you look towards the door and hum surprised to see Jason there. Even more so on who let him in

“Missed me?” You grin, watching as he closes the door behind him and rolls his eyes.

“Little delivery,” He corrects and motions for you to turn back to the movie. You do, albeit a bit hesitant to do so, but you try not to look back when you hear him getting closer. “Close your eyes, too.” He adds when you look as far back as you can without turning your head. Groaning, you cover your eyes with your hand just to prove you’re not peeking and hear him set something down on the spot next to you.

“See you next week!” He pats your back before snatching the half-eaten grilled cheese from your hand and you take it as a sign you can open your eyes. You’re not even upset he’s eating your lunch, it wasn’t good. Looking at what he had set down, you see the familiar white and red bag and crack a smile.

“You got me Five Guys?” Your head whips to the door but it’s already shutting and you can hear his heavy boots quickly running down the stairs. Turning back to the bag, you pull your phone out and scroll to find his contact.

Thank you

we feast tonight

The two of you don’t text much, mostly if he had forgotten something in the shop or given him a heads-up that the bookstore was closed for the day. Hell, his contact name is still Jason (bookstore fav). But he reads it immediately and thumbs up the last text.

This grilled cheese sucks by the way

It feels like plastic

Probably is lol

While Jason is very much a regular at the shop, you don’t really remember when he first started to frequent the shop. Just that one Sunday, you had seen the time and noticed he was late to the shop. He’d come in almost three hours later than he normally did and watched as you sighed, tossing his favorite candy at him before ushering him to the counter. He listened as you told him that next time he is late he needs to text or you’d send out an amber alert yourself.

He truly hadn’t thought anyone had noticed the change in his routine. Especially someone he only saw once a week. It had been a really shitty night for him and an ever-shitter morning, feeling like a ghost wandering through Gotham, living in a life he never should have.

He apologized with a grin and gave you his number. He also spent a little extra time in the shop, loving the familiar smell around him. He loves the bookstore more than he loves his guns, more than he loves most things really. It’s the only normal thing in his life and truly, Jason doesn’t know what he’d do without it. Without you, honestly. He’s only ever there when you are and a place is only as welcoming as the people inhabiting it.

Which is why he’d picked up the 2 am phone call so fast.

“Jason?” You whisper shout into the phone. He can hear some harsh wind and some distant shouts in the background, but it took much less than that for him to abandon his patrol and start over to you. “Shit— I’m sorry but I don’t know who else to call.” You add, the clarity hitting that during an emergency you called the guy who lived nearly half an hour away on a good day.

“It’s okay, doll,” He replies and you dare to glance behind you. Maybe they’d given up by now, but no. “What’s wrong?” He asks as you round a corner. “Where are you?” He quickly adds and you glance at the road signs.

“Uhh, heading towards Second Ave and Belcher Street. My friend's boyfriend thinks she’s cheating with me and him and his friends are chasing me,” You explain.

“Guns?” He asks, already leaving the Gotham border.

“No,” You huff, the strain of running heavy on your chest. “Just knives.”

That’s good, he tells himself. Distance is what you should be focusing on. But he knows that the regular person cannot run for nearly as long as he can and realistically, you’re bound to get tired much sooner than multiple people.

“Is there a crowd nearby?” You can hear some muffling to his voice but that’s honestly the least of your issues. “Maybe a club or hospital.” He adds when you don’t respond fast enough.

“No,” You strain. “Just apartments and shit. God, fuck! Do you think I should climb the fire escape?” There are several ahead of you, and one of them is low enough for you to grab.

“Can you?” He asks.

“Yeah— yeah,” Jumping up, you pull yourself up and start climbing up to the roof. “Shit, I’m really high up,” You pant, daring to look over the edge and see the guys climbing up. “They’re climbing up,” You tell him, quickly backing away and trying to find an exit. What type of roof doesn’t have a fucking exit?

“I’ve seen people jump from roof to roof,” You're thinking out loud at this point, trying to find some type of solution to your stupid idea. “Can’t be that hard, right?”

“Depends on the distance,” He truthfully tells you and you look at the two nearby roofs.

“Definitely too far. I’m fucked.”

“Still on Second and Blecher?” He asks and you mutter a yeah when you see them reach the roof.

“They’re up,” You mumble. “I could jump and live, yeah?” Glancing to your left, you see a dumpster and reassure yourself that you’d be fine.

“Do you think you can come back down the fire escape?” He asks. “Is there one behind the building?” Looking behind you, you let out a loud sigh.

“Yeah— yes, heading down.” Rushing down as fast as you can, you reach the ground as they’re in the middle and run back into the main road.

“Head back down the way you came,” Jason instructs. He’s only five minutes away at this point, maybe three if he tries hard enough. He just needs you to buy five more minutes.

“Okay,”

Running for what felt like an eternity, your legs are burning and your chest is tight. Maybe that one time you lied during your physical exam was coming back to bite you.

But they’re still chasing you and Jason is still guiding you. You’re sure you’re about to pass out when a motorcycle drifts in front of you.

“Red Hood?” You gape, panting. The fuck?

“Come on,” You hear him and Jason say. You’ll worry about that once you’re away from those absolute track-and-field freaks chasing you. Getting on the motorcycle, he holds your thigh with one hand before pulling off.

The ride is silent as you’re catching your breath and just making sure you’re okay in general. Aside from the insane burn in your calves, you’re fine. The ride does a lot to calm you down, by the time he reaches the shop your head is pressed to his back and you’re holding him not as tight as you were before.

“I don’t know your address,” He admits and you laugh into his back. After all that happened it’s a little humorous that your biggest issue is Jason getting your address. You give it to him and it takes him a second but he has the route mapped out before he pulls back onto the street.

“I’m staying the night.” He tells you as you get off of the bike. You don’t protest, not in the slightest. You’re far too tired to do so anyway. Instead, you wave him over and head upstairs. He tries to hide his helmet from the camera view but you tell him they don’t work.

“This guy got robbed two days ago; whole building found out the cameras are fake,” You explain while leaning against the elevator wall.

“And you feel safe?” He incredulously asks, looking you over. Even buildings in Gotham have working cameras.

“I have a gun,” You shrug while he looks at you with more of an analyzing gaze, a little surprised you’d have a gun. “And no valuables. My electronics are all secondhand for that exact reason.”

“So, steal the couch?” He jokes.

“If it can fit through the door, it’s yours!” Patting his arm, you exit the elevator and fish out your keys. Thankfully you hadn’t dropped them during the chase.

“What happened?” He asks as soon as you close and double lock the door. Looking at him, you drop your phone and keys onto the kitchen island before heading back to the door.

“My friend, Gina,” You start with a sigh, kicking your shoes off. “She used to be my beard in high school. But we never officially broke up, I guess because she posted a story saying happy six-year anniversary. With a bunch of pictures of us together. Her boyfriend saw and he’s always been…” Rolling your hand, you open your closet and grab a new outfit. “He thinks I’m lying ‘bout being gay. Because I’m too… I dunno what he thinks. But he says I don’t look gay and he’s never seen me with a guy before.” You explain with a huff. “Not my fault I’ve been single for two years, y'know. I got school and work and whatever!” Slamming the closet shut, you sigh and apologize.

“I’m gonna take a shower, feel free to snoop and prod. And take the boots off, I just moped.”

“Course,” He doesn’t move an inch as he unties his boots and walks to the shoe rack to set them down. You thank him and head into the bathroom.

“If you gotta piss or shit, go ahead. I got a curtain and a strong scent blaster plugged in.” You tell him at the doorway to the bathroom.

“Noted.” He laughs but it drops once the door closes.

He finds himself making sure the windows are locked and the curtains are properly drawn. He grabs his phone and saves your address into his personal map before he goes to check to see what type of security measures you have. And there’s not many, just a gun that’s badly hidden in your bedside table and the extra lock on the door.

But there’s not much to the apartment, the decor is extremely minimal but he remembers you talking about saving to buy a house in the countryside. Or at least outside of a city. Own land and all that.

He can’t decide if that’s good or not, there’s nothing to steal for sure, but it’s also really sad. There’s no personal touch to your apartment, it reminds him of one of his safe houses.

He settles himself into the couch once he’s checked over everything, listening to the sounds of the shower and eventually, he hears the shower turn off.

When you return to the living room in a pair of shorts, you’re a little surprised that Jason is still there.

“Bruce Wayne as Batman makes a lotta sense,” Opening the fridge, you pull out two water bottles before setting them on the counter.

“(Y/n),” Jason stops that conversation. “You should file a police report.”

“Fuck is that gonna do?” You huff, closing the fridge and opening the freezer to grab a popsicle. “Gina will hate me, cops will just forget to file it, and then I get harassed.”

“They tried to kill you,” He stresses, blocking you from moving away from the fridge. You stare at him, a little upset that he’s caring so much. You feel bad for even calling him and sending him out of his way. And now he’s staying for who knows how long. Not to mention now you know his biggest secret— a family secret at that, one that you can tell one person, and suddenly the whole world knows.

“Happens every day,” You shrug but honestly, yeah, that shit scared you. His face drops and he snatches the popsicle from your hand before tossing it on the counter to your left.

“No. Not to you. Not to most people. So what if Gina hates you afterward? Do you want a friend that’s known you since high school who would rather side with her crazy boyfriend?”

“Of course not!” You groan. “But it’s Gina. She’s always been there and— and this is a one-time thing,”

“You sound ridiculous,” He tells you as he walks out of the small kitchen and into the living room. “Trying to kill someone isn’t a fucking one-off. It’s a crime, a legit crime. Has Gina even checked if you’re okay?” He points to the phone that’s still on the counter; the same phone he knows for a fact hasn’t buzzed once.

“No.” There's no need to check your phone, you already know there’s nothing from her. She’d never text you first. He nods as if to say there’s your answer.

“Look, Jason. It was scary as fuck,” You admit. “But I’m good. And I thank you, but you should go home. I just…” Looking off to the wall. “I don’t know why I called you, I feel like shit for dragging you away from your home.”

“I was spending my night watching Harley and Ivy dry hump in front of a newly exploded power plant. You didn’t take me away from shit.” He blinks before heading to the couch. “Besides, it’s too late to drive back. I’m beat,”

“You’re lying,” You deadpan, tossing a water bottle between your hands.

“Am I?” He fake yawns, leaning back on the couch. “Can I get a blanket?” Clearly, he’s not going to leave, and it would be bad as a host to not make him comfortable. Asshole.

“Fine,” He grins as you walk away.

“Oh and Jason, Gram’s told me about the payment plan you set up. Taking advantage of a woman who can’t speak English is rude. She thinks you’re paying five dollars a week for some back dues you owe.” It was actually five hundred thousand dollars a week, which was absurd but hey, if he insists.

“It’s just nine million,” He calls back. “Not even my money and B won’t notice it’s gone.”

Just nine million, you repeat to yourself as you find a suitable blanket. It’s one of those thick fur blankets with a tiger on the front.

“The couch is a pull-out, by the way.” Heading back into the living room, you tuck the blanket under your arm. “I’ve used it like once. It’s pretty comfortable unless you want the bed.” You add, setting the blanket on the edge of the couch. There’s no coffee table, you don’t see a reason for one.

“I can sleep on gravel, doll. I’m fine, thank you.” For some reason, his eyes are having a hard time staying on your face but you’re busy walking back into the kitchen to notice.

“If you’re hungry make anything, I’m going grocery shopping in two days anyway.” Tossing the popsicle back into the freezer, you lean against the counter and watch him. It’s a little staring contest you have going on. His eyelashes are nice, real pretty boy-esque.

The silence and tension in the apartment is broken by four rapid knocks to the front door followed by a worried: “(Y/n)?”

“Gina,” You tell Jason as he’s already off of the couch and halfway to the front door by the time you stand up straight. When you walk up behind him you pause, when did he have time to grab a gun? But he’s looking through the peephole before looking back to you and holding up two fingers. You almost laugh, this isn’t some military operation; just a… friend? at your door.

“Please,” Gina says through the door. “We just— K wants to apologize,” Huffing, you look at Jason who’s standing behind the door, one hand on the top lock. He truly doesn’t want to unlock it, but it’s your apartment. Your call.

“Says who?” K snaps, his voice a lot more muffled than hers is.

“You’re going to fucking apologize.” She snaps right back.

He raises an eyebrow and you nod to the door against your better judgment. He unlocks the door and stands in front of them, really standing over them with his damn height, the arm holding the gun hidden behind the door. You can basically hear Gina pause when she sees him.

“Who are you?” Gina asks, looking him up and down.

“A friend.” He answers simply and then looks over to you. “Your friend is here.”

“Thanks, Jay.” You smile and usher him into your bedroom with two quick glances. “Gina,” You greet a little harshly as you stand at the door. “Kyle.” You look at him for only a second.

“It’s K.” He corrects.

“Can we come in?” She asks, stepping forward. “I explained everything to K and he’s sorry.” She looks back at him and he’s just standing there with this stupid look on his face.

“Is he?” You ask, looking at Kyle. “Because when he was screaming: I knew you weren’t a fag; I’m gonna cut your dick off; stop running bitch; and since you wanna pretend you’re a fag come and taste our dicks he just didn’t seem real sorry.” She cringes, he hadn’t said that part through the yelling they were doing.

“I don’t wanna lose you,” She places a hand on the door, not that you were planning on closing it just yet. “Let us in and he’ll apologize.” Sighing, you look at her and frown. Between not even texting to see if you’re okay and then coming over with the audacity to think that a fucking apology would smooth things over, you were peeved.

“You’re losing one of us tonight. Him or me.” She takes a step back and frowns, her eyebrows knitting as your words settle in her. But at that moment, you knew the friendship was over. It shouldn’t ever take that long for an answer like that.

“(Y/n), he’s sorry!” She almost shouts, shouting as if you had given her this impossible task. You want to reply, you want to yell, and to get into it then and there. But it’s no use. Your neighbors are sleeping, you’re tired, and far from a mood where you want to interact with them. As such, you close the door and put the locks back on.

She shouts some things from the other side but you’re not listening as you enter your bedroom.

Jason was standing right next to the door, startling you. If he hadn’t been so close you wouldn’t have seen him in the darkness.

“Is that a requirement for vigilantes?” You ask, clutching your chest in an exaggeration. “Y’all are fucking spooky,” Tossing yourself onto your bed, you stare up at him.

“She’s still at the door,” He ignores the comment on his family business once again. Instead, his eyes trained on your front door, watching and waiting to see what their next move is going to be. You hope for their sake it’s leaving because his hand is still on the safety of his gun.

“Not like they can get in,” You shrug, laying flat on your back. “I never give my key to anyone and it takes a full round of bullets to break the door.”

“You know that how?” He asks, setting his gun down on the dresser.

“Last year my neighbor's crazy ex tried to break in but the door didn’t budge.”

“Of course,” His head dips back into the bedroom, watching you. “Sleep, I’ll be in the living room.”

“Okay,” Turning your head to look at him, you grin. “If you get nightmares, the bed is free.” Patting the empty space, Jason rolls his eyes with a grin and leaves the room. “Your gun?” You call after him, staring at the handgun still on your dresser.

“I have two more!” He calls back.

“How the fuck?” But he doesn’t answer.

—

The next morning you wake up to the sound of the front door closing. It stirs you, really, but you’re lucid enough to realize that hey, either Jason treated you like a one-night stand or someone had broken in.

Sitting up in the bed, you collect yourself for a moment and grab his gun on your way out. While you’re surely not as keen as Jason is, you like to think you’re observant enough. The door is locked again, so you figure he didn’t leave and someone didn’t break in.

“Jason?” You turn the corner to the kitchen and see him standing with a bag of Ihop, staring at you as if he’d gotten caught stealing from the cookie jar.

“Good morning,” His eyes flicker to the gun as you set it on the counter. A part of him is proud that you were hesitant enough to bring the gun with you. “I got breakfast.”

“Aw,” You grin. “Post hate crime meal!”

“That’s an insane sentence,” He tells you, unpacking what he had gotten. “I didn’t know what you’d like, so I got you blueberry pancakes, french toast, eggs, and bacon. And the orange juice,” He places two boxes and a large cup of orange juice in front of you, then the straw. But you’re just focused on the fact that you know for a fact that wasn’t a random order. You’d posted about that exact order once before. Maybe a month or so ago.

“Oh,” You hum, looking at the food and then at him. “That’s sweet. Thank you.” He hums back, dropping the bag down to the floor, and takes his food. He’d gotten strawberry pancakes, hash browns, an omelet, and a coffee.

Now you feel bad for not having a coffee table.

“Wanna watch something while we eat?” You point your thumb toward the living room and he nods.

While in the middle of watching Breaking Bad, you get up to set the empty containers in the sink and the cup in the trash while Jason watches. He doesn’t really know what to do, he wants to sleep, having stayed up the entire night in case anything happened but he’s enjoying his time with you. Even if the circumstances were… less than ideal.

“Do you work today?” He asks when you’re walking back.

“Depends if my sister calls out,” Sitting, you turn your body to look at him. “I work Wednesday through Sunday, most weeks, at least.”

“Are you going to make the report?” He also turns his body to you, watching as you toss your head back and sigh.

“Probably not,” You admit, looking back at him. “It’s more effort than I care to do,” He blinks, clearly disappointed but he’s not going to push.

“You should carry a weapon.” Jason’s not really asking, he’s telling you. “How good are you with a gun?”

“Not sure,”

“You bought a gun without training for it?” He asks, slowly as if he’s waiting for you to correct him and tell him that you actually go to the gun range in your free time.

“My dad got me it when I moved out.” You shrug, feeling a little ashamed because now he’s looking at you like you’re insane. “He said I needed protection and he doesn’t believe in mace or tasers.”

“Clearly you do!” He throws his hand up towards the door. “We’re going to the gun range today.”

“Jay!” You groan, nudging his leg with your foot. He grabs it and slides you down the couch. “I’m fine.” He just hums and leans over you, it doesn’t do much. Aside from shutting you up.

He’s staring at you, his eyes unwavering from yours while you can’t seem to settle on where to look. It’s making you nervous— he’s making you nervous. The proximity isn’t the biggest issue, no the issue is the fact that you don’t mind that he’s above you, his hand right next to your head, and for fucks sake his breathing is even.

“You’re going.”

“Yup,”

—

Weirdly enough, the shooting range wasn’t in some building. No, Jason had decided to drive the hour's ride to a private lot. While normally you don’t agree to be in the middle of butt fuck nowhere without your own means of leaving, you were willing to bend your rules this one time.

He has you help with setting up the cans and the body dummies, which are incredibly lifelike. A little creepy, but whatever floats his boat, you guess. He also puts up a new target sheet on a metal wall before he returns to hand you a handgun and ear mufflers.

“Don’t hold it like that,” He blinks as you’re pointing the gun directly at your foot. You’re not a fool, you’ve played a couple of shooter games before.

“The safety is on,” You justify but point it toward the ground instead. Just to keep him happy. He just sighs and grabs his own gun, pointing it toward the dummy.

“Stand like this,” He watches you from the corner of his eye as you mimic his stance. It’s a little uncomfortable but very technical. “A little straighter.” Fixing your posture he nods and drops his stance to adjust your grip on the gun. He takes your hands and adjusts them appropriately. “It’s not accurate for beginners, but I learned this way.” He explains as he steps behind you and lowers himself to your height. It’s hard when you’re not the same six foot-five that he is, but that’s neither here nor there.

With his line of sight that is the same as yours, he raises your hands a little higher and a little to the left. You trust his judgment, you’re no fool on how accurate Red Hood is with his guns.

It's silent, so silent that you can hear him breathing even through the heavy earmuffs. Whether you like it or not, you start to stop focusing on the task at hand and on him. He smells like your soap, too. It’s a little too domestic for the setting you’re in.

“Take it off of safety,” He instructs, taking two steps away. Doing as he says, you want to roll your shoulders back but you’re worried you’d lose the position. “Go ahead.” His arms cross as he stares ahead at the dummy and you catch the flex of muscle under his shirt.

Adjusting yourself as lowkey as you can, you close one eye and press the trigger. It's harder than you would’ve thought, giving you only a moment to back out. Following through, you let the recoil push you back a little before looking at the dummy. It didn’t hit the center of the head, instead grazing over the ear.

“Close,” Jason looks over at you as you’re rubbing your shoulder but stops when you catch him looking at you. “Again?”

—

“I mean,” One of your friends, Tasha, takes a long sip of her drink. “None of us wanted to say anything but Gina is a bitch.” Frowning, you push around your food with the back of your fork. What was supposed to be your friend group's monthly putting ended up becoming a major therapy session when they noticed that Gina wasn’t there.

“Yeah,” Dante gives you a sort of frown sort of smile. “But you’d been friends with her for longer than us, so it wasn’t really our place.”

“It’s crazy that it took her boyfriend trying to kill me to realize that, though.” It felt a bit weird, she’d always been in your life, and before the whole incident, you never would’ve thought you’d be without her. But life was the same, if not better with her gone. You didn’t realize how much you didn’t need her until now and honestly, you’re just upset it didn’t happen sooner.

Especially considering all of your other friends didn’t like her.

“Speaking of,” Alex cranes her neck to look at you. “Who’s Jason?” She grins as your eyes narrow. You’re not one to divulge about your life, especially over text.

“How do you know about him?” Setting your fork down, she snorts before digging back into her meal.

“Girl, I was the Uber Eats driver.” She explains and looks to the others who are clearly out of the loop. “My first order of the day, some guy named Jason with a blank profile. Whatever, right? I pick up the Ihop order— he knows your taste, cute.” She quickly adds. “And then, I get the address. I’m just thinking (Y/n) created a fake profile. Nah, bro!” She covers her mouth to stop her laughing and to stop any potential food from flying out of her mouth.

“I knock and this tall guy with this hot face scar opens the door. If he would’ve asked I would’ve taken the tip,” And she didn’t mean money.

“Clearly he already did!” Dante cackles, watching as you drown yourself in the soda you’d ordered. The others laugh while you have to do damage control.

“Jay’s a friend who happened to be in the neighborhood when Kyle was chasing me,” The three look at each other, ever aware of the fact that you’re staring at your plate while talking. They just assume the friend part is a lie. “And he spent the night. On the couch.” You add, looking at each of them to make sure that they understand.

“And ordered you breakfast in bed. And he left a hundred-dollar tip,” Alex swirls her pasta around her fork while the others gape at the news.

“Oh girl,” Tasha looks over at you. “He got a sister?”

“Too young for your old ass!” You laugh while she pretends to be offended. “His sisters are nineteen and eighteen.” You wondered if you should add Barbra to his list of family. But you think she’s more of an acquaintance than family. But you could be wrong.

“You know his family?” Tasha’s eyebrows furrow.

“I know of his family. Never met that before.”

“Ah, waiting for the one-year mark?” Alex nods as if she had caught the drift you are trying to get at.

“Oh my god,” Rolling your eyes, you lean back in your seat.

“What? You’re acting like you’re not attracted to that man. He’s fine as hell!” Alex pushes her hair behind her ear as she talks. “Might have to revoke your gay card.”

“I never said that, it’s just…” Rubbing your hands on your pants, your face scrunches. “He could be straight.” Now, you weren’t going to deny the fact that Jason was attractive. He was the embodiment of your personal preferences, but you were a chronic overthinker with these sorts of things. To the point where it needs to be spelled out for you to get any hints.

“He got you breakfast in bed.” Dante sounds out each word, putting an equal amount of extra emphasis on it. Just to make sure it really sinks in.

“I did that for you guys before!” You defend.

“Fine— fine, how do you know him?” Tasha asks and the others nod, happily awaiting your response.

“He comes into the shop every Sunday. He’s been coming for about four years, give or take.” You shrug and they blink at each other. This is why you’re still single.

“Isn’t he the one that bought you Five Guys last month?” Dante is now physically turned to you, his eyes wide and you grumble. You never told them about that.

“You’re lying,” Alex cackles. “That’s your man and you don’t wanna admit it. Five guys is expensive.”

“How about this?” Dante rolls his hand before you can even reply to Alex. “If one of Tasha’s friends got her an expensive lunch without asking, showed up to her job every single shift for four years, stayed with her after a traumatic night, got her breakfast, and didn’t leave until she was truly safe; how much platonic energy does that give you?”

“Not a lot, but—“

“Nah,” Dante holds your hands as he speaks. “I love you, so don’t take this the wrong way but you’re stupid as fuck. He wants you.”

“He wants the books I sell. And my friendship.”

“He wants to spread something other than pages.” He shakes his head and you snort. “Ask him out, if he says no. Then I owe you a grand.”

“You don’t have a grand.” You deadpan and he nods.

“I’m so sure he’ll say yes that I’m making that bet.”

“Fine,” You huff. “But if this ruins my friendship you all owe me lunch for a month.” Surprisingly, they all agree and you settle on asking him on the upcoming Sunday. So, the very next day.

—

“Why are your friends watching you?” Your sister asks as she walks behind you to grab one of the display books and swap it for a different one.

“Don’t worry about them,” You mutter, too busy watching the window; waiting for the motorcycle to stop in front of the store. She notices, of course, and stands behind you before deciding it was time to take her break and join your friends upstairs.

Eventually, you see his motorcycle pull up and sigh, fixing your apron but stop when you hear them snickering. This whole situation was stupid, that’s what you’ve decided. But you’ve made your bed, it was time to lie in it.

Jason walks in, his eyes immediately finding yours but you’re busy ringing someone up. He grabs the basket from the front of the shop and walks around the shop until he sees the line is gone.

“Jay,” You grin, holding onto the counter.

“(Y/n),” His eyes focus on your hands for a second before he grabs a chocolate from the basket. Glancing at your friends, you fix your posture and reassure yourself. “Anything new?” Typically, you’d already be talking about what’s new but there’s just this hanging silence.

“Nah,” You shake your head but still double-check the inventory log. “But we’re getting some um… science fiction stuff next week.” He’s not too big on those, maybe once in a blue moon he’ll actually buy one. He goes to talk but your phone dings before he can open his mouth. Watching as you grab your phone, your eyes scan over a text before you huff and silence it.

“I heard about…” You trail into a whisper. “The Riddler kidnapping, you okay?” Not the best way to lead into asking someone out, but hey. Could’ve been worse.

“I’m fine,” He nods. “Arms a little sore but I’ll live.”

“Long enough to go on a date with me?” You ask, a bit quicker than you intended but thankfully your words haven’t jumped up. He laughs, his eyes closing and you falter, glancing up at your friends for some type of support.

“That was a bold transition,” He settles himself down. “When are you free?”

“Oh shit, for real?” You grin. “I’m free Monday. Or whenever you are, really. My shifts are pretty flexible,”

“I’ll pick you up Monday,”

“I asked you on the date,” You huff. “I’m picking you up.” He crosses his arms and his eyes lower into a sort of unamused expression.

“You’ll pick me up, from Gotham?” He asks, just to make sure you know what you’d be signing up for. Truthfully, you hadn’t. And as such, you weigh your options— you don’t even have a car to offer to pick him up in. Damn.

“Fine, Monday at eight.” Giving in, he nods and glances around the shop.

“I don’t need a book today, see you tomorrow.” He looks you up and down, this time you watch as his eyes slowly drag down and tilt your head.

“Looking like you already wanna kiss me, Jay.” You joke as his eyes reach yours again.

“Since you offered.” He grins and sneaks one single kiss that lasts less than a second.

“I get off in thirty,”

#x male reader #x reader #jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x male reader #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood x male reader

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