I Have Tears In My Eyes By The End Of Whenever I Get To Read Ur Smau It's So Funny I Can't Get Enough

I have tears in my eyes by the end of whenever I get to read ur smau it's so funny I can't get enough

LMAOO AWH THANK UUU!! IM GLAD U LIKE ITT <3 im working on another update rn!!

Petrichor [12]

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Powered!Reader (little bit of fwb)

Words: 12,719

Chapter Warnings: Swearing, angst, blood, violence, canon violence, manipulation, gunshot wounds, mentions of drug use, drug use, reader is fed the fuck up, description of withdrawal (kind of??)

Summary: ❝Pylades: I’ll take care of you. Orestes: It’s rotten work. Pylades: Not to me. Not if it’s you.❞

Gotham is home, not just for Jason but for you, too. And now that you’re both finally back home, together, you’re ready to see where this next chapter brings the two of you. He’s your best friend and you’re his. And you both might want a little something more with being back home, the place you both feel most comfortable. Surely, nothing could possibly go wrong now.

A/N: I really do just love angst so much lmao You can add yourself to the tag list below, ask me to be tagged, or you can follow my library blog @jasntoddslibrary and turn on notifications if you prefer that!! I love feedback, I swear it keeps me posting on a weekly basis 😭

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The next day Jason is with Crane. Jason is still reeling from last night. Dick knows pretty much everything now and that wasn’t a part of the plan. Jason thinks it’s only a matter of time before Dick shows back up and destroys the entire thing. It’s only a matter of time before Dick ruins everything all over again. And he thinks about you and how mad and worried you were. It’s all growing a bit too heavy for him, even with the drug. But, he pushes Crane anyway.

The sooner they get this plan in action, the better. The sooner Jason can take care of Dick, the better. But, Crane isn’t having any of it. Crane wants to go through with his plan but he’s also not telling Jason a single thing about it. It’s like Jason is just a piece in his game, a pawn. Doing all of the bidding and only knowing what’s going on when he actually needs to in order to do Crane's bidding. But, Jason shakes that thought off because Crane cares about him. Crane wouldn’t be just using him. Right?

“I met that girl of yours.” Crane states, getting tired of Jason’s pestering about going after Dick.

“I heard.” Jason quips, his voice snippy and harsh.

“She is a handful, isn’t she?”

Jason knows what he’s doing and he won’t. He can be as high as Crane wants him to be but he still has a line. And that line is you. It is always you. Anyone but you.

“I can handle her.” Jason states.

“Can you? You can fight better than her. You've had the training. But, like Dick Grayson, she walked away from last night.” Crane lets out a wistful sigh. “And she threatened to kill me.” Crane looks to be hurt as the words leave his lips. Jason knows better than to think someone threatening Crane's life would hurt his feelings. “Doesn’t it bother you that her and Bruce didn’t kill the Joker for you?” Crane asks and Jason’s eyes land on the floor. “I mean,” Crane lets out another sigh. “That maniac killed you and they couldn’t be bothered to kill him for you. Sam is at least a killer now but not for you. I, though, I brought you back.” Crane gives Jason a sinister smile as he places a hand on his shoulder.

Jason hates it because Crane makes a point. Bruce couldn’t even bend his morals for him. Bruce said he was his son and he took him in, he let him be Robin. Bruce was supposed to protect him and everyone else. But, then he couldn’t even kill the Joker. He’s not asking him to kill Two-face or The Riddler or even Crane, but he should have killed the Joker for him. That’s the part that hurts. And you turn around and starts taking out lowlives but you didn’t even hit the Joker first. Not even for him and you've been wanting his blood on your hands since your mom died. But, somehow, that wasn’t enough for even you. Jason, though, does know someone killed him. And he knows what you said about what him dying did to you. He thinks that person just beat you to it. Bruce though, even Dick. Dick could have killed him, too and he didn’t. No one that claims to care about him at all killed the Joker for him and none of you brought him back. Jonathan Crane brought him back from the dead. Not the people who care bout him.

“This isn’t about her. It’s about Dick.” Jason shakes his head because you're still the line. Despite it all, you're the line he won’t cross.

Jason knows, under the haze of the drug, you would have brought him back from the dead if you knew how. And if it were something you knew he'd want. You would have fought and chewed into fate and the Reaper with nothing but your bare hands just to bring him back. You would have killed the Joker if someone didn't beat you to it. After everything going on, you're still the one person who hasn't given up on him.

You're the line.

“See, that’s your problem. It’s not just about Dick Grayson. It’s about all of Gotham and your girlfriend is a part of that.”

“Okay.” Jason states, unsure where else he could possibly be going with this.

“She’s going to be a problem, just like that older brother of yours.” Crane warns as he turns back around as he walks into the little office building. “She’ll come after me eventually and then I bet she’ll come after you, with Dick Grayson at her side.”

“She’s not a problem.” Jason defends.

You could have killed him last night. If the first knife would have missed, you would have had a second one already in the air on its way to his jugular. If you want someone dead with a knife, you're more than capable but instead, you didn’t. You've had opportunities to kill him and fight him at full force but you don’t. You aren’t the problem, no matter what Crane says.

“Isn’t she? She still wants you to join their side and turn me in, the person who has helped you the most. Haven’t you thought about her using you? Her fear drove her to you and now she’s lost. She doesn’t know who is without you because she got to try to fix you and distract herself from it. You got her to live in that fancy mansion.” Crane says and Jason, right about now, is pretty glad he left out more about you.

Crane pushes sometimes for more information but Jason deflects and pulls information about anyone else he can. Jason won’t let Crane target you. That’s not how this partnership is going to work. It doesn’t matter. Jason Todd doesn’t make very many promises, but he made a promise to you and he’s not breaking it. You don’t break your promises to him.

“She’s not using me. I can get her to join our side.” Jason states, his voice growing more annoyed.

“Then why haven’t you?”

“That wasn’t part of the plan.” Jason lies.

“If I told you to give her the drug and help us, would you?” Crane asks, his brows slightly furrowing with the question because he’s already pretty sure he knows the answer.

Crane doesn’t know you already took the drug. Crane also doesn’t know the real reason Jason burned down his lab. Jason told Crane he was just covering his tracks after Hank. He knew Dick would be digging deeper and he might find it. That isn’t actually a complete lie, that’s probably what would have happened if Dick didn’t already find it. But, the real reason was that he didn’t want you going back and making more of it and taking it. He feels the comedown and sure, while he’s high or when he’s desperate not to feel that way again, it feels worth it. In those moments it always feels worth it but you were always better with dealing with your shit than he was. He doesn’t want you involved with Crane and he doesn’t want you addicted to the drug. You deserve better.

He’d never give you the drug. He’d never ask you to work alongside Crane.

“Yeah, she would do it. She’s just as fucked up as I was.” Jason lies through his teeth, shifting his weight to his right foot.

Crane nods his head but he met you. You're not scared, not in the way Jason was. He can tell you have her own issues but you're not like Jason when Jason showed up at Arkham. “Maybe she’s not who you thought she was.” Crane sighs. “You should really be focused on taking care of her with Dick, if that’s your goal that is.”

“No.” Jason states firmly. “Not happening.” Jason scoffs. “She’s not a fucking problem. She fights with Dick all the damn time and she fought him last night with me. Nothing to worry about.” Jason shakes his head, still a little confused what that was even about.

“Oh, I’m not worried.” Crane states. “You are. If you don’t take care of her, you’ll always be stuck here. You’ll never be able to get to your full potential because you’re too worried about what she’ll do. Maybe what she’ll think of you. Though, I have to say, she is not pleased with you over that Hawk fellow.”

“And she still fought Dick for me.” Jason urges. “Clearly, she doesn’t have that big of a problem with it.”

“I’m just giving you my advice. You want to be fearless but you’re still scared of what she’ll do and what she thinks of you.” Crane tsks.

“I’m not taking care of her. I want to go after Dick. Look, we know the drug works. I’m exhibit one.” Jason states, trying to deflect from you. It can’t be you.

“You’ll see, my boy.” Crane states.

The night before rings through your head like a migraine you can't quit. You and Dick got back pretty later, or rather early in the morning. Dick was instant he could take care of the gunshot wound on his own. He'd done it before, apparently. So, that left you to your room alone and sleeping didn't come too easy.

You could have had both of them but Dick just wouldn't listen and Jason doesn't listen and you're too damn loyal to him. If it were anyone else, you could have thrown a knife to injure them and you would have had him and then could have gotten Crane. But, it's Jason and you don't want to hurt him even if hurting him could bring him back and end up being for his own good. You just won't take the risk. And it sucks. And then you almost got shot because Jason and Dick can't work out their problems like normal people with an actual conversation. You're stuck in the middle of the two of them and you don't even know how the hell that happened.

And then there's the way Jason looked at you when you asked him to come home.

The drug must have been wearing off because he looked scared and for the life of you, you don't know why he would be so scared to come home. Yes, he killed Hank and that's bad but everyone attacked Gar while possessed and moved on from that. Gar killed people when he was being controlled. Jason is killing people while he's manipulated and drugged. None of them have attempted to do anything about any of the people you've killed. Dick just let Bruce walk right out after killing the Joker. Jason shouldn't be scared to come home and you feel horrible he clearly does. Getting him back just got a lot more difficult it seems and you're starting to second guess where you should stand in all of it.

You walk into the Batcave where you find Gar and Kory, looking to be researching something on the Batcomputer. You're best guess is they're trying to track down Jason. That's the only thing anyone is doing these days anyway.

"There you are!" Gar yells with excitement and relief as he rushes to you.

Gar's been worried. You and Dick went off without an explanation and didn't come back last night. Neither of you could even be bothered to answer a phone or keep the phones on for that matter. Kory hadn't heard anything and neither did Connor. He's relieved to see you're okay, even if you're looking a little out of it.

"Oh, yeah, hey." You let out a sigh as Gar brings you in for a hug.

"Where were you last night?" Kory questions. "And where is Dick?"

"And what happened?" Gar asks as he pulls away.

You furrow your brows, looking between them as your heart misses a beat. "W-what do you mean?"

Have they really not seen Dick? You might not have slept long or well but Dick is still, somehow, usually always awake. At least here like maybe the manor is haunting him in its own way. But, Kory and Gar are watching you expectantly and you worry maybe something went wrong with the whole gunshot thing.

"I don't think it's some coincidence you and Dick disappeared yesterday and stopped answering your phones." Kory crosses her arms.

Your jaw opens and closes a few times. "Uh..I mean...yeah..." You offer a yikes expression, squinting your eye slightly.

"Explain, now." Kory states sternly.

"Well, uh, you see...you haven't seen Dick or...heard from him?" You ask slowly.

"No." Kory grows more annoyed by the second.

"Not since he dropped Dawn off." Gar offers, hoping you get to the point soon.

You suck in a breath as you tug your sleeves over your hands. "Uh, yeah...so Dick got, uh shot. But, he was fine."

"So, you just went to bed?!" Gar asks.

"And you didn't think to come get me? Or any of us?" Kory demands.

"He said he had it and he's been shot before. I wasn't gonna argue with him."

"Since when? You argue with him all the time." Gar shakes his head in disbelief. Of all times you aren't going to argue with Dick, it's when he's shot. He could be bleeding out somewhere.

"Yes, I was not in the mood last night." You defend your stance as regret starts to chew at your stomach.

Kory lets out a groan. "And where did you last see him?"

"In the living room? Before I went to bed." You state but before you start giving up more answers, the one and only finally makes his way into the Batcave. "Oh, thank fuck." You let out a breath of relief.

"What happened!?" Kory asks quickly, immediately rushing over to Dick who's a little unsteady on his feet.

You and Gar watch the two of them and you can't help the grin that comes to your lips. Rachel made jokes about the two of them and said she thought it was weird but they'd be cute together. You get it now. Kory ran to him in the same you would have if it were Jason. Dick is clearly the idiot between the two of them.

You eye Gar. "Bet you ten bucks it'll be Kory to close the deal when she gets tired of waiting for him to get his shit together."

"I'm not gonna bet on that." Gar whispers with a soft grimace.

"Because you'll lose?" You raise, offering him a smirk.

"Yes." Gar chuckles. "I don't know if Dick is capable of having that conversation unprovoked."

You nod, rolling your eyes. "Batboys." You let out a sigh. "Okay, I give Kory a month."

"Four, tops." Gar sticks out his hand and you shake it with a soft laugh before you and Gar follow Kory and Dick to the medbay.

Dick takes off his shirt and reveals a gunshot wound on the upper left side of his chest. You furrow your brows. It looks nasty and his entire chest is covered in blood, most of it dry but some of it still looks fresh. Kory shakes her head, grabbing the supplies to stitch up the wound. Gar and you watch for a few minutes, mostly grimacing at the sight of it.

"Dude, that looks horrible." Gar scrunches his nose.

"Five inches over and we'd be burying another body." Kory says as she starts addressing the wound.

"Dude, seriously?" You huff. "You said you'd take care of that." You roll your eyes. You wonder how he could be so dumb. And reckless. It's not like it's a cut or a scrape. It's a literal gunshot wound close to his heart.

Kory stops what she's doing to look at you, Gar nearly snapping his head at you. Dick just glares at you, looking more annoyed than usual.

"What?" You ask, looking between all of them with wide eyes. "What'd I do now?"

"Let him go to bed with a gunshot wound and not tell anyone." Gar mutters under his breath, making you snap your entire attention on him. That's uncharacteristic.

"I'm not gonna force someone to let me help clean up their wounds." You mutter right back, earning a glare of disbelief from Gar. "Okay, unless it's Jaon or you." You snip back. "Sorry." Your eyes widen, looking between the three of them.

Gar keeps his stare on you. You're supposed to be friends and you're not looping him to anything anymore. You and Dick go off to fuck knows where and Dick almost gets killed. They're trying to find Jason since he went dark and you two can't be bothered to work as a team with the team. It's ridiculous. You're supposed to be a family.

"Explain." Kory warms, looking between you and Dick.

"It's nothing." Dick states, watching Kory stitch the wound.

"Nothing?!" Kory yells. "You two went off last night without a word! We deserve an explanation."

Dick pauses and you're not about to be on Kory's bad side. If Dick wants to piss Kory off, that's all on him. You do not want to do that. Kory is usually very nice but you have a feeling being on her bad side could get ugly. Plus, it's Kory.

"Jason's working with Jonathan Crane so we kidnapped him and took him to the cabin to lure Jason there. Then Jason and Dick started fighting and I helped. And then a helicopter came and Dick got shot." You explain simply.

The room falls silent for a few seconds as everyone looks between you and Dick. Kory wants to know why everyone who manages to get involved with Bruce Wayne ends up being some of the most reckless people she's ever encountered. Gar is piecing together everything you've told him and now he's even more frustrated. You and Dick went after Scarecrow and decided you could take him on and Jason on your own without any issues. You both didn't even have a backup plan. And Gar is realizing you not only took Jason's drug, but if it's Scarecrow, it was probably something he designed. You took a drug Scarecrow designed and knew that. Then neglected to tell everyone that piece of information.

You both could have died last night and everyone is supposed to just be normal about that. After everything.

"Wow, thanks." Dick quips.

"I'm not gonna disobey Kory. That's all you." You shake your head as you cross your arms over your chest but you can feel Gar's eyes still boring into you.

"And whose side were you even on last night, by the way?" Dick questions.

"You two morons almost fucking shot me!" You yell. "I was on your side. Hello? Do you not remember that and then you got the first swing on him. I was with you guys until you two almost shot me."

"That was Jason." Dick argues. "He pulled the trigger, not me."

"Because you grabbed his arm! It was aimed at you originally, not me." You let out a scoff.

"Enough." Kory warns, growing tired of the back and forth. The specifics of the fight last night don't matter right now when she's trying to fix a bullet wound that could have been fatal. She is so sick of losing people. "Barbara's responsible for this?" Kory asks.

"One of her snipers is, yeah." Dick answers.

"On her orders, I'm sure." Kory states. "Maybe I should go and have a word with her."

"I think there's been enough bloodshed for today." Gar adds in. "That was way too close, man." Gar's voice is soft but drenched in worry.

"I almost had him." Dick defends.

"No, I had him." You protest. "I had a knife ready to go. He never would have done it. I could have gotten him just fine but then you had to take the damn gun and I almost got shot." You pause for a second and if Dick would have just trusted you, maybe you really could have gotten him back. "We almost had him."

"Neither of you are listening!" Kory yells, looking between the two of you. "You scared us. Going out on your own, getting shot. It's not okay."

"I didn't want to put you guys at risk." Dick says. "She was here when I got the call. She's the only one that ever got through to Jason before. That's the only reason she went." Dick states calmly while Gar looks back at you as if waiting for you to explain why you didn't at least tell him.

"I'm not dragging you into it." You look to Gar as you shrug your shoulders.

"Oh, bullshit, guys." Gar spits and he's sick of this.

"Excuse me?" Dick questions.

"Dude, Hank blew up!" Gar yells. "Dawn left us forever, and Jason went dark. You're killing people!" Gar looks at you. "This family is dying and you two go out alone and Dick gets shot?" Gar yells before he starts growling lowly, his entire face turning green while his teeth turn into fangs. "Do you even hear the words coming out of your mouths!?"

"Gar?" You question slowly as your eyes grow wide. You've never seen him this upset before.

"Gar!" Kory yells, trying to snap him out of it.

"Hey." You stand in front of him, putting your hands on his cheeks. "Hello?"

His eyes land on yours, refocusing his attention and the fire in his bones starts to calm. The green fades from his face as his fangs start to retract. He's so upset and hurt and terrified for the lives of the people he cares about most, he didn't even realize he was starting to transform and Gar doesn't lose control.

"What?" Gar asks, his eyes scanning your face.

"Take ten." Kory states and she also feels like they're starting to lose everyone.

"Come on." You offer your hand to him as you turn around to walk away. Gar joins his hand with yours. "Don't do anything fucking insane without looping me in." You look over your shoulder at Dick, sending him a glare before you turn back around. "You were turning green." You whisper to Gar as you walk hand-in-hand across the Batcave.

"Because you guys could have died last night! I'm sick of losing this family!" His voice is panicked this time.

Gar might wear his emotions on his sleeve, but he is also very good at controlling his emotions. He never just loses control but he is today and it has you feeling even more guilty than you already were. Dick has Kory and Babs. You have Gar and Molly. Conner didn't really know Hank and he doesn't really know Jason. Gar, though, he knew Hank and was friends with Hank. Jason is his best friend and yet everyone has someone besides him. Everything has been a mess and Gar is the one left trying to fix everyone and help everyone but who helps him?

"Come on." You tug him along with you until you reach the living room. You let go of his hand and take a seat on the couch. "Yell at me for it. Go for it. You're scared and mad at us, fine. I get it. So, yell about it. I'm not gonna tell you to take ten. Turn green, turn into a tiger, go for it." You say with ease while Gar just stands in front of you, growing confused.

"What...? But I...I don't know..."

"Look, if you need to yell, do it. I deserve it and Dick does, too. You let me bitch to you for months. So, yell about how you're scared. I'm not gonna be hurt or mad. If it'll make you feel even a little bit better, do it. You take care of all of us, all the time. Take care of you." You offer and it's true. If he needs to yell about it, he should. You're not worried about him turning into a tiger. Gar deserves to let everything off of his chest. He always lets everyone else vent to him.

Gar's eyes narrow slightly. "This feels like a trick."

"It's not. I'd yell at Jason sometimes. He just kind of let me and then he'd yell at me. It was never that we were really yelling at each other, but just yelling. Because we were scared or mad. It usually helped. So, go for it." You shrug softly. "I do deserve it though so ya know."

Gar lets out a breath and decides he'll take the opportunity. He is just scared for all of you. Losing Donna was really hard. And losing Jason was worse. He was close with Json and that sucks. And now he's back and he's dark, working with a maniac. Hank is gone, there's no getting him back. Gar just can't lose more people and he's pissed that you and Dick don't seem to care how any of them feel about it. You're supposed to look out for each other to make sure you don't get blown up or beaten to death but Dick and you just go off on your own without a word.

"I'm just mad at you guys and I'm scared you're gonna go out there and get yourselves killed." Gar groans. "We had no idea where you guys went. You guys left and didn't loop us in. We're supposed to be a team and I know you're between teams but we're at least supposed to be friends! Jason is my friend, too! I want to be on his side. But you guys aren't telling us anything! I don't want to lose any more people."

You're tired of everything and you're tired of keeping secrets especially when Gar is looking at you desperate for answers. He says you're between teams right now but what if you don't want to be anymore? Jason is going to do whatever Crane is putting him up to and Dick is going to off and do his own thing anyway. Nothing you're doing has been working anyway. Maybe you're tired of being the one in the middle.

"The call about Crane came in and we left. I was with Dick and I don't think he would have looped me in if I wasn't already there. You're my friend. You're right. And that's why I didn't tell you." You state. "It's just...I wanted to protect you, I guess. I, uh, I've been dodging Molly's calls and texts, too because of it. I'm with you, I'm sick of losing people. So, I didn't tell you."

"Okay and I get that but this is what we do." Gar urges. "We help each other and we help other people even when it's dangerous. It's dangerous but you and Dick still go out there alone. At least if we're all working as a team, we have a better shot of making it home."

You chew the inside of your cheek and you think your heart might stop beating soon. "I fought him, ya know? And I know what that was like because even though I was high, I'm sober now and I remember every detail. And it fucking sucks that happened. I didn't want that to happen to you. I don't want him to have a bigger reason to target you." You shake your head and you shrug slowly and weakly. "He's not your fight, Gar."

"Yeah, he is." Gar urges. "Why wouldn't he be? He's my best friend."

"Because I owe it to him." You nearly yell. "I owe it to him to fucking save him because he saved me more than once and I never fucking told him. I missed it. I will never forgive myself for it. I have to save him this time."

"You don't have to do it alone." Gar's voice nearly breaks and he desperately wishes that's something you would understand. You never have to do this stuff alone. That's part of being a team and a family. "He's our friend. He's our family. We weren't here and that sucks! But he's not just yours to save. What if you can't do it alone?" Gar asks. "You're up against a freaky drug, Jason who I don't think you could really fight if you had to, and Scarecrow!"

"I know." You nod your head. "I don't know, okay? I know I can't do it alone. I'm sorry. I really am." You suck in a breath. And you're realizing you do a lot of things alone. It's as if it's easier to do them alone and only disappoint yourself, risk your own life than drag other people in the middle of it. "Really, I'm sorry. I was...scared if I tell you then you have to tell Dick and what if that got Jason killed, ya know? I don't know. I'm sorry though."

"You can tell me." Gar says. "I know you're worried about him but you can tell me and I won't tell Dick." Gar stresses. "Not if there's a risk it'll get Jason killed again."

"I know." You nod. "I'll try harder. I'm really sorry, Gar." You let out a breath. "I'm, uh, I'm gonna stay out of it today and take a breather. Might head to Excellent Gotham later, just so you know." You offer a soft smile.

"It's okay." Gar nods his head and offers a soft smile back. "You're going to be able to do that?"

"Yeah, I think better when I take a step back and I need to find a way to not be in the middle." You let out a soft chuckle. "While not doing it alone. But, if something happens..."

"I'll let you know." Gar's eyes widen. "Thank you." Gar clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. "That did help a little actually."

"Told you." You laugh softly as you get to your feet. "Want some food now? Yelling really works up an appetite."

"Yeah okay." Gar chuckles as you get up. "Oh! I can tell you about Blackfire."

"Blackfire?" You quirk a brow.

"Kory's sister. She was kind of tapping into Kory's head and she attacked me yesterday so we went to find Blackfire. Some scientist was holding her captive." Gar states excitedly.

"Um..." You stutter. "Well, we already have so much in common." You laugh softly. "But yeah, no, please explain literally all of that." You say eagerly as the two of you make your way to the kitchen.

Jason and Crane are standing in the washing area of an operating room, watching as the surgeon and the nurses prep a kid for something. Jason isn't sure why Crane made him come here. He said he wanted to show Jason something. It's important he understands what's going on and Jason's part in all of this. If Jason were being honest, he thinks Crane is full of shit this time and he just wants to get out of here. This feels wrong.

Then it gets worse.

A woman comes in holding a sword and starts slicing up the surgeon and nurses. Jason's eyes grow wide as his breathing stops. Blood sprays over the walls and window right in front of Jason. A nurse backs against the window with her hands up and begs for her life only for the woman to slice her, too. This isn't right. Why would Crane do this? They're doctors. They're helping some kid live and Crane has this woman come in....and kill them. She takes something with her before looking at the window and offering Crane a nod. Jason questions if all of that bloodshed was for that one thing. She didn't have to kill them. But, she did.

"You are expendable. If you're not happy here, you are replaceable. Remember what I said." Crane says as he faces Jason and that's when Jason realizes this whole thing might be to help Crane, but the show was a threat.

Crane is withholding the drug from him today. Jason finished the inhaler and then Crane refused to give him more until they came here. He's withholding it on purpose, let Jason's fear kick in just enough to keep him in line and make him desperate. And it's working.

He's scared again.

He's scared he'll end up like the surgeons and nurses. He's scared Crane is the one who's going to turn on him. Red Hood is supposed to be the face of the whole plan. That was the point of creating that alter ego. Crane wants Jason to get rid of you and just do whatever he says, when he says it. He wants him to divert from the original plan while telling him nothing about what's actually going on. He can't do that. That is his line.

Crane can try all he wants but no amount of drugs or manipulation will get him to cross that line. He might believe Crane sometimes about you, maybe he has a point sometimes. But, he won't kill you. You could have killed him at any point but you don't. You could have pushed him off a roof but you didn't. When Jason gets desperate he thinks of that because you're the one that stood on that ledge with him despite your fear of heights. You're the one that talked him down that day no one else and he owes you something for that alone. He won't go after you. He doesn't fucking care what Crane has to say about it, he won't do it.

The more he thinks about it, the more mad he gets. Crane thinks he's expendable, just like Bruce. But he's not. Why does everyone think he's so fucking expendable and replaceable? Why is nothing he does enough? He turned on all of his friends for Crane. He killed Hank for Crane. That's not enough to prove he's not replaceable and expensable? It's infuriating. He'll prove Crane wrong. If Crane wants to get to you, he'll have to go through him first. If Crane wants to wait to distribute the drug, that's a Crane problem, not a Jsaon problem. And he knows exactly what he can do to prove Crane he's not expendable and he can be trusted.

Later that night, you find your way to Excellent Gotham. The other Titans have been busy trying to locate Crane and Jason. You kept yourself busy with a scrapbook page while they did their own thing. It's not really all that nice distancing yourself alone. You figure Excellent Gotham at least provides dinner and you can talk to Tim, someone who doesn't know everything that's going on and doesn't come with the feeling of guilt. If Tim wants to talk about who the Titans are and Batman and Robin, that's fine, too because it's what you always did. Before everything. It'll feel normal anyway. At least Excellent Gotham is a good distraction and lets you take the breather you need. If you're going to be any help, you need the step back. You're too close to it all.

So, you stand at the counter with Tim on the other side as a large smile consumes your face, a take-out counter resting open in front of you.

"Okay, okay, why Bruce Wayne? Like, okay if Dick were Robin, how does that make Bruce Batman?" You question as Tim leans against the counter.

There's a genuine smile splitting your face as you point at him with your fork before going in for another bite. You've been here a few hours, checking in with Gar every so often, a way to try and keep your word to him. And this is helping. You might be in a heated discussion about who everyone is but it feels normal. It doesn't feel heavy anymore. It's just a normal conversation with a friend and it doesn't feel fucking sad. It just feels warm.

You don't remember the last time you felt warm.

"He's rich." Tim scoffs, a grin plastered across his face. "And why else would he let Dick go out there?"

"Unless he doesn't know. Bruce is a busy man. Dick being Robin doesn't mean Bruce is Batman and that's if Dick is Robin." You argue with a laugh. "And that means you'd also be wrong about Jason."

"No, no, I know I'm right about Dick and Jason." Tim pauses, the smiling falling. "Is...is that okay to talk about? Jason?"

"Yeah." You nod with a soft smile. "I, uh, I like talking about him."

"Okay well," Tim picks right back with enthusiasm. You find it amusing how into this he is. Especially since he's right. "He has to be Robin. He has the same fighting style. He walks the same way, how do you explain that?" Tim raises. "And Robin 1.0 and Robin 2.0 share the same height difference as Jason and Dick." Tim states. "If they're the Robins, Bruce has to be Batman."

"Unless!" You yell with a laugh, flinging your fork around. "Dick recruited Jason because they're brothers! Like I said, Bruce is busy. What if Batman is just some guy? Like Kick-Ass. Doesn't have to be some rich guy and maybe he's recruiting kids." You argue and truly, you're only defending Bruce because you think it's funny. And Dick would kill you if you outed fucking Batman.

"Batman can be Batman because he's rich." Tim laughs. "Uh, where has Bruce Wayne been? Where has Batman been? They disappeared the same time!" Tim laughs.

"Bruce is on business! Maybe there's a Justice League thing!" Your laugh reverberates through the restaurant. This feels like home. "How the fuck would I know where Batman is?" You put your fork back in your food. "And that's still assuming Dick is Robin! He's not. Explain Dick having a stick up his ass. Robin is more free-spirited!"

"Sorry to interrupt this very important conversation." Mr. Drake states, walking back to the counter. "But Tim, where is Stephen? Get him on the damn phone and find out where he is. Or you're stuck here all night."

"Shit." Tim mutters, checking his phone to see Stephen's shift started an hour ago. "Okay, hold on." Tim says. "And we'll continue this." Tim laughs as he calls Stephen on FaceTime. "Where are you, man? Your shift started over an hour ago."

"Priorities. My girl's parents are out of town. I'll be there in a second." Stephen says through a grin.

"Seriously? I could have plans." Tim protests.

"What plans?" You snort. "You're here with me arguing about Batman."

"Whatever. Just hurry up." Tim says as he hangs up and three men walk into the restaurant.

Tim is about to start talking all over again with even more enthusiasm and proof but he gets a look at your face, eying the men as they walk further into the restaurant. Maybe you’re just paranoid but they look like they’re up to something. It’s that their walk is steady, determined, but careless. Their eyes don’t land on the menu or Tim or Mr. Drake. They’re pointed at the register. And that’s when you see the reflection of metal sticking out of the last guy’s waistband. He looks to you and then it starts.

The throbbing kicks in like a freight train. It’s an armed robbery and they plan to go out swinging. You’re quick, rushing to Tim as they pull out their guns. Gunfire surrounds and encompasses the restaurant as you tackle Tim to the floor behind one of the counters.

Tim leans against the counter, ducking his head with every echo of a gunshot. His eyes are on you as you take a breath, as if to be debating what you’re going to do. And Tim knows you knew this would happen. You were running to him before they had their guns pulled. And his thoughts are confirmed when you look back to him with fury in your eyes.

It’s been less than five seconds but it gives you enough time to gather yourself. It’s all you need. These people are not going to walk in here and murder the people you care about. They picked the wrong restaurant on the wrong night during one of the worst months of your life.

You lift your hoodie, pulling a knife from the belt around your waist before you pop up from behind the counter.

“Ya fucking missed, assholes!” You yell over at them as the knife leaves your fingers, connecting with one of the guys’ eyes, embedding itself deep into his skull as he drops to the ground.

The throbbing starts again from the side and you duck down just before a shot comes your way. You take another deep breath before grabbing another two knives and throwing one, hitting one of their jugulars. The last one still standing locks eyes with you, his gun pointed right at you. He has this…grin, one you almost swear you’ve seen before but you’ve never seen him before this. His breathing is steady and he actually looks relaxed while you have your arm ready and aimed with a knife, right at him.

His pupils are blown.

And then your heart sinks because Crane is free on the streets and these guys came in here completely fearless. This one finds the whole damn thing amusing. Maybe he’s just high on something else, or maybe you’re right and Jason and Crane have moved to disruption. Excellent Gotham wouldn’t just be a coincidence.

“Give me the money and it’ll be over.” He says so easily you nearly roll your eyes.

“Kiss my ass.” You throw the knife, hitting this one in the arm with the gun.

Then you throw another one, hitting him just below the eye. He drops to the ground in a hard thump, leaving the restaurant a glass and gun-shelled mess. The smell of gun metal seeps into the air while an eery and dense silence consumes the place.

Tim calls your name not ten seconds after the last man drops. There’s panic in his voice, a sense of dread. You rush right over to him where he’s against the food counter now, his dad leaning against the side of it. Blood seeps through Tim’s hands are he tries to hold pressure on the wound. You kneel down, seeing Mr. Drake breathing heavily. Your eyes scan over him, quickly running over the crash course Jason gave you in gunshot wounds once.

“He’s been shot!” Tim yells, desperation in his eyes as he looks to you, silently pleading for help. He knows you're Bluejay. He can only assume you've had some sort of training in this. More than he's had.

You can feel the lump in your throat grow and the spinning of your head. Blood never really bothered you and it didn't with Dick. But, it was mostly dry with him earlier and this, right now, is fresh and active. Your bones feel like they're going to vibrate through your skin and your teeth grind together, trying to push every thought out of your mind that isn't first aid.

You have to help.

“Okay, move.” You urge as Tim pulls his hands away. Your hands are shakey as you lift Mr. Drake’s shirt, seeing the wound oozing and you think you might prefer knife wounds instead of gaping holes. “It’s gonna take the ambulance ten to fifteen to get here,” You rush out. “So, we–”

“Is that…?” Tim asks, cutting you off as his eyes are on the window. He only even looked up to see if he saw someone for help or Stephen but instead of help, he just saw one person.

Jason Todd.

You look up just in time to catch a glimpse of him before he turns around. This cannot really be happening right now. Jason Todd is supposed to be dead. It was all over Gotham City News. Bruce's newest adoptive son was killed in a freak accident. This is going to be a lot harder to explain to Tim and you want to explode. If he's here, you're right.

Why the fuck would he be here and why the fuck would he target the place you frequent?

“Okay, keep pressure.” You look to the door, seeing Stephen rush in. “Stephen, call an ambulance and grab some towels!” You yell as you get to your feet. “Stay here, hold pressure with the towels. I’ll be right back.” Your words nearly slur together as they come out as fast as your mouth will let them.

You rush outside where you see Jason, his back facing the open windows of the restaurant. You can’t believe this. Of all the things he could do, of all the damn people in Gotham he could target, he really came for you. For your friend and his family. You can’t fucking do it anymore. This is insane. If he wants to go after Dick, fine. Sibling rivalry bullshit taken to an extreme. But this? This is targeting innocent fucking people.

“Jason!” You seethe as you approach him. “What. The. Fuck!?” You scream, nearly vibrating from the anger coursing through your veins.

But then Jason faces you.

The anger washes away as your mouth opens, looking for words. There are dark circles under his eyes, a hollowed expression of the charism that used to radiate off of him. Maybe it’s the dark lighting but you swear the green in his eyes is pale, his skin is pale. He looks like a shell of who he used to be. He’s been acting like it but now…he really looks the part and you’re getting the idea that something really bad is happening.

Jason’s eyes are wide, tired, and exhausted but wide as he sees you come to a dead stop a few feet away from him. Why are you here? You’re not supposed to be here. You should be with Dick and the other Titans. He didn’t see you inside of the restaurant. Not before the gunfire or after. How did he miss you? It can’t be you. He just wanted to show Crane he was right. He wanted to prove he could do this. He chose Excellent Gotham on purpose, a way to show Crane it’s a threat at you without being a real threat. He knows you went to Tim for help. You weren’t supposed to be here.

Jason questions your name, closing the rest of the distance between the two of you.

His hands immediately come to your face for just a second and they send a chill down your spine. His fingers are like icicles and they're clammy, completely different than how they usually are and it breaks your heart. He keeps his right hand on your cheek, while the other hand goes to your waist. His eyes scan you over quickly, desperate to make sure you weren’t hurt in the gunfire. He didn’t take the drug again yet, he was saving it for after. He’s scared. Panicked. Desperate and guilty. You have blood on your hands and on your clothes. Can’t be yours. Not you.

Please not you.

“Are you hurt?” Jason rushes but his voice is weak and fragile, echoed in pain.

You eye him and you’re stuck between wanting to punch him and wanting to kiss him in hopes to make it all better again. He’s slipping so far away from you and you’re scared how far he’s willing to fall. Crane is doing something to him. He has to because he didn’t look like this last night. He didn’t even seem like he cared this much last night. Right at this exact moment, he feels like the old Jason. And you nearly get sucked right back into his gravitational pull.

“What…” The venom is gone from your voice. “What is he doing to you?” You ask, your hand comes to to his face. Not him. Not again.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Jason’s voice breaks.

“You know I’m always here. I was hanging out with Tim. Jason…what the hell is he giving you?” You look him over and you notice him favoring his leg. You haven’t seen him much since he’s been back from the dead but this is the first time since that first day you’re noticing it. You always notice it.

“Are you hurt?” Jason asks again and he can feel his heartbeat in his throat. He wants to spit his own heart right onto the ground in hopes it’ll stop the pain in his chest.

“No. I’m fine. It’s not mine.” You urge, catching him glancing at your free hand. “Jason, what is Crane giving you?”

Jason shakes his head, dropping his other hand to your waist. He misses you. He’s been so damn high all the time, he’s been able to ignore the longing in his chest. The one who always swore was his heart searching for yours. He could ignore it with ease but Crane has been keeping the drug close to his chest and this batch isn’t very good. He can feel it more tonight. It’s wearing off quicker. He can feel the worry for you and the care and the fact he fucking misses you. And the guilt for everything that’s led you both here.

“Same shit.” Jason grits his teeth. “You took it, you know.” He hates the words leaving his lips because they sound bitter and angry but it’s not at you. He just wants you to be okay and he wants to get the fuck out of here.

“No.” You shake your head, your voice soft. “Are you sure it’s the same drug? Jason, you look…is he withholding it from you?” His skin is cold and clammy under your fingers and his hair is flatter than usual.

You’ve seen it, what withdrawal looks like. You saw it on the streets and that’s what Jason looks like. Why would Crane do that? He’s insane and he doesn’t actually give a shit about Jason but Jason has been doing all of his bidding. You figure Jason is here with the drug. That’s why he just stood here while Excellent Gotham was attacked, he probably gave it to them. Surely, that has to be part of the plan. But, if that’s the case, then why does Jason look like he’s been thrown headfirst into withdrawal? And why would Crane be doing this?

“Stay the fuck out of it. I have it. It’s the same shit. It’s fine.” Jason grits his teeth. He wants to break. He wants to lose it for the first time since that first day on the roof with you. It feels like it’s been months since and it’s only been a week. And you look at him with worry and fear and you have always had a way with getting Jason to breathe. But, he can’t afford that right now. Not you. “Please.”

"It's fine?" You spit. "You look terrible, Jason. It's not fucking fine."

"Yeah, it is." Jason removes his hand from your waist and digs in his coat pocket, pulling out a full inhaler. "Fine." He wiggles the inhaler for you to see, the liquid sloshing around in the clear canister.

After all of that, he's going to wave the drug around as if it's fucking easy. He's going to stand here and pretend like it's all fine and well when he almost got you and Tim shot? He's actually lost his damn mind now. If he's going to stick with Crane despite everything, fine. You've stuck by his side since day one all those months ago. Fine. If it's going to be like that, fine because you can't take it anymore. You love him more than anything on this planet but this is not fucking fine. He's not fine and he has got to realize that.

"Fine!?" You shake your head, eyes bugging out of your head in disbelief. "Get off me." You shove his hand off of you as you take a step back. It's not fine. None of this is fucking fine. He's not fine. That drug isn't fine. Working with Crane isn't fine. Doing what he just did isn't fucking fine. It doesn't matter what his reason is. "You...you just got Tim's dad shot. Do you know that? What have the Drakes ever done to you?" You look at him with disgust. "You could have gotten Tim shot, my friend. You could have gotten me shot!" Your voice cracks as you yell at him, your arm flying out to the side. You might be worried about him but you're not going to let him almost kill your friends because you're worried about him.

"That wasn't the plan!" Jason screams in desperation, his words clawing at the hope for you to believe him. "You went to Tim, didn't you!? I know you suck at figuring out codes! Tim is a genius. I just wanted to scare him!" Jason defends his stance, leaving out Crane wanting Jason to target you. If you knew this was a fake threat, maybe that'd be worse.

"Bullshit! Bull-fucking-shit! You gave them the drug! That's why you're here! You did this! You knew what would happen and you did it anyway!" You bark back. "You just wanted to scare him!? Then do it your damn fucking self, Jason! You just didn't want the blood on your damn hands so I couldn't blame you! But you did this!" You point a finger at him and Jason isn't sure he's seen you so mad and...disappointed.

"You weren't supposed to be here! I didn't think they'd shoot anyone!"

That's not a lie. He didn't think. He just did it. He knew they'd go in there and rob them. Maybe they'd have to close down for a little bit. For safety. He didn't think about anything else. Thanks to the drug Jason claims is helping him and curing him.

You don't fucking get it. It doesn't matter that you weren't supposed to be here. That's a load of shit anyway. You're always here. Tim and his family are innocent, regardless on if Tim helped you or not. He doesn't know anything, not for sure. Jason's reasoning is flawed and it's cruel. It fucking hurts.

"Tim is my fucking friend! I don't care I wasn't supposed to be here! You....fuck." You let out a desperate groan, tilting your head back. At some point, enough is enough and he isn't even taking responsibility for this. You just can't do this anymore. You look back to him, eyes turning glassy. "I was fucking fine with you being a crime lord or whatever, taking out those fucks hurting people. But this?" You point at the restaurant. "These are innocent people! Hank was innocent! Dick is innocent! I can't fucking stand here and watch you kill innocent fucking people! And innocent fucking people that I care about and that care about me!" You say it all so quickly, you barely register what it would mean.

No no no no no. He fucked it all up. Like he always does. He just ruined it all. Everything is gone. Everything is going to shit. It's all messed up. He did all of this. How did he even get here? You can't walk away from him. You always swore you wouldn't. Please, not you, too.

You're all he has left.

"What's that supposed to mean, huh?" Jason asks, jerking his up quickly as he tries to give the question some bite.

You let out a heartbroken laugh that's mixed with a cry as you look to the sky and hope a blackhole will open up just to swallow you whole. You have no choice.

You have thrown him life preserver after life preserver, and all he ever had to do was hold on and you'd reel him back to safety. But, all Jason has done is chew right through them and wonder why he's still drowning. You can't keep trying to save someone who doesn't want to be saved. He was always your lifeline but you were clearly, never his.

"You win, Jason." Your voice is defeated as Jason's brows furrow. The lump in your throat grows so large you can barely get the words out. "You win. I can't do it anymore. I'm done. I can't." You shake your head as a tear falls down your cheek. The words taste like blood-covered glass, killing you with every cut and slice.

If you're always on his side, then what he's doing can't be that bad. If you're always on his side, defending him, why would he ever stop? You've tried everything else to get him home and none of it is enough. And it is killing you, knowing this is it. There is one last option because something's gotta give. Maybe if he hits rock bottom, having no one, maybe it'll turn him around. It's the only thing left to do because begging him doesn't work, loving him doesn't work, fighting him doesn't work, arguing doesn't work. Nothing else works and you hate it because you don't mean it, not even a little bit but you have no other options and you're devasted by what he is right now.

So, you say the one thing you can't take back.

A last-ditch effort, knowing he may never forgive you.

"I'm giving up on you. You get what you always wanted. I can't do it. I have tried and tried, but I can't do it anymore." You give him a tired shrug as you dodge his eyes.

If you see the heartbreak in his eyes, you'll take it back and you can't do that. If Jason always has you on his side, why would he turn things around when he hasn't yet? You could have died two nights in a row. He is actively targeting the Titans. You can't meet his eyes because he is targeting innocent people. It might be under Crane's control but, until he gets clear of him and gets clean, this has to be on Jason. Jason has to be the one to deal with the consequences and you will never forgive yourself for it.

Jason's world stops. Not you. Not another person. Why does he always do this? How did he even get here? You were never supposed to be involved. He should have included you from the start. He almost rips the inhaler from his pocket and hits it, right in front of you, anything to get rid of this pain in his chest. It's as if his heart just exploded through his cage, shattering every bone on its way out. How are you doing this?

You're all he has left.

Jason shakes his head, fighting back tears of agony and anger. "You're just like everyone else." Jason's voice cracks.

You knew it was coming but something about it makes you want to burst into tears.

"No." You shrug because he should know how badly this hurts you, too. This is the last thing you want to say to him, ever. "I'm not. I am not like everyone else. Don't ever say that shit again. You have done this. You came after my friend. My innocent friend, Jay." Your voice cracks as you try desperately to hold back your sobs. "All you have done since coming back from the dead, is hurt me." You pause, taking a ragged breath and Jason's face falls. Is that true? "And I have done everything to protect you. To be by your side. And you have done nothing but hurt me. So, no. I am not like everyone else. You just gave me no choice, Jay." You're quick to wipe a few tears away as your voice is weak and soft, lacking all fire and bite it had just seconds earlier.

He can't do it. He could try to make up for this. He could try to explain. He could just quit. That would do the job just fine. But, he doesn't. The heartbreak kicks in with anger and he just wants to be spiteful just like he always is as if fighting the person is going to change their mind. He knows it won't change yours but he does it anyway because he's hurt and the hurt has nowhere to go besides the open and cold air of this soulless city.

"You swore you never would but look at you now!" A lump grows in Jason's throat. "You said you don't break promises. Crane was right about you." Jason sneers as he closes the distance between you, looking down at you but he's not threatening or intimidating. You see the heartbreak in his eyes. You will feel guilty about this in every life you live.

Jason Todd has always deserved better.

"Okay." You shake your head slowly. "Sure, Crane doesn't know me. But you do. You know me. And you know I'd never be giving up if you left me another option. But, sure, believe Crane. Fuck it, right?" You scoff and all you want to do is cry. Or break every bone in your body because maybe that would be less painful. "I'm sick of losing my family." Your voice is quiet, barely a whisper. "All I ever wanted was you. And you died." You shrug your shoulders, keeping your eyes on him. "And all I wanted was you." You say quietly and Jason wants to shatter, his breath catching in his throat as his vision starts to go blurry. "And still, all I want is you but...I don't know what else to do."

You can see your breaths mixing together in the winter air between you. Everything led you both here and all you both want to do is take it back. The winter air chisels at your face and hands, hacking away at every hope you could have had. Jason's eyes are locked on yours, dissolving into heartbreak and you think this is what hypothermia must feel like.

But, Jason is too scared of what will happen if he does take it all back. He's still under Crane's manipulation. He's too stubborn. And you're terrified what will happen if you back down. If you back out of it, who will he target next?

"So, that's just it? I didn't mean to hurt anyone in there. It's not my fault." Jason huffs and the anger starts to evaporate as the heartbreak comes in the form of agony and devastation.

"Sure." You nod and you don't want him to feel like he's trapped with Crane. You have to give up because that's your option. But, you can offer him someone else and maybe that'll be enough. This all boils to Dick anyway. "The same way your drug isn't Crane's fault. Look, I'm done. I can't do it. Dick though, he believes in you still. So, if you want to come home, call him. Don't contact me. If you get clean, then you can. Until then, don't call me. Don't text me. Nothing. And stay the fuck away from the Drakes, Molly, and Gar." You try to hide the quiver in your voice but Jason catches it.

"Please, don't walk away." Jason says softly and you nearly collapse into the ground. His words are like knives aiming right for your heart. How does he do that?

You rest a hand on his cheek. "I can't leave it like that so, I'll always love you, Jay but...I want the old you back." You nod as your hand falls from his cheek. You turn around, going to leave him but you hear Jason take a few slow steps after you before they stop.

Jason's voice cracks as he says your name, his version becoming so blurry he can't see. "I...I'm sorry." Jason says quietly, looking to the ground as a tear falls from his eyes. "Don't...please," He looks back up to you. "Don't give up on me. I have a plan and it's all gonna work out. This was just an accident."

You swear he's never going to forgive you for this. This is the hardest thing you've ever done. Even if he understands one day, he'll never forgive you and it's the hardest pill to swallow.

"Yeah, I'm sure it was." You nod softly. "I can't save you. You don't want to be saved, not yet. You have to save yourself, now, Jay. And for what it's worth, I..." You pause watching tears come to Jason's eyes. "I love you, Jay." You nod your head as you sniffle. "And I am so fucking sorry I couldn't save you. From Deathstroke, from the Titans, from the Joker...from Bruce. And from Crane. I'm sorry I was another person that let you down and I'm really fucking sorry I'm walking away." You shake your head as you lick your lips. "But I don't think you'll get it through your head if I'm in your corner. I've tried everything to stay." You suck in a breath as a few tears fall from your eyes. "I tried to stay for once because being with you was worth it to me. But I don't think it's helping you so...get clean and we can talk. The second you get clean, I'll be here." You nod once as the ambulance finally starts to arrive. "Those are for us. You should leave." You turn back around and head back inside of the building, leaving Jason in the cold.

How could he fuck up this bad? He just wanted to show Crane he was right. He just wanted to prove himself and instead, he's the one standing out here all alone. Guilt and shame gnawing at the last good parts of him. And he just can't do it anymore. The pain and the fear and guilt and everything about it. It's too much and too heavy and maybe he's a little spiteful. So, he puts the inhaler to his lips and takes a hit.

They said it was a skinny batch but he didn't realize it would feel like this. It's numbing a lot of everything but not enough and it all still feels too heavy. When things get heavy, he always went to you but he just fucked that up. It's his fault it's heavy. This is all his fault and you're supposed to be on his side but you're not. He's all alone again and all he has is Crane. It's not supposed to be like this. How the fuck did he even get here?

All he wanted was to be somebody to someone. To be enough.

Back in the restaurant, the paramedics are getting Mr. Drake into the ambulance, rushing him off to Gotham General. Tim watches with sad and hollowed eyes, his hands are covered in blood and his shirt is soaked. You squeeze your eyes shut, looking away before you shake it off. You can't lose it over Tim's dad. That's not fair.

"Do...do you need a ride?" You clear your throat as the ambulance drives away. "I have my bike. I can take you." You offer with a steady and firm nod.

"Uh...yeah," Tim looks at his hands, something lost in his voice. "That...that would be great. Thanks."

"Of course." You nod, reaching down for this hand. Your hands have been covered in blood enough times to almost seem normal. "Come on."

The two of you head outside to your bike and you wonder how you're supposed to explain this. Dick talked to you months ago, when you first came to the tower. It was all about vigilante life and what it entailed. It would be making hard decisions but knowing those hard decisions would be for the greater good. It's not killing people because enough people hurt and kill innocent people enough. Vigilantes, heroes, don't do that. It was about keeping the identities of everyone a secret to protect yourself and them. You've never had much of an issue keeping secrets.

You hold your own close to your chest, lock them away where even you forget they exist sometimes. But, those secrets aren't these. Those secrets only ever hurt you, only ever made you feel alone. These secrets that you're forced to keep hurt everyone you care about. They hurt Molly because you couldn't tell her about Bluejay or Robin or Jason or Red Hood. You and Jason would bail on her and you'd both would show up riddled with bruises and aches and pains. It hurt her because it worried her. It hurt her because Jason died and she never got to know him as Robin, the part of him that meant the world to him. She only got to know a portion of him.

But telling Molly meant telling her about Dick and Bruce and the other Titans. It wasn't your secret to tell because it would out all of them. And she still doesn't know he's alive because telling her means leaking something Jason wanted to keep a secret and that's going to hurt her even more.

This hurts Tim because his dad was just shot and he just saw Jason Todd who's supposed to be dead. Now, he's going to think his friend is lying to him about your boyfriend being dead. Lying about an alter ego is one thing, lying about someone dying is cruel. Even if you weren't close.

And it hurts Gar because Gar ends up in the crossfire of everything. He's the one up worrying when you and Dick don't come home. He's the one scared for what Jason is going to do because you couldn't tell him about the drug in order to protect Jason and keep his secrets for him. And then there's Jason.

You can't tell Jason what's going on with the Titans because of Crane. You can't tell him everything you want to desperately scream from the rooftops. That you're sorry and you don't mean it and it hurts you, too. You can't tell him you're scared Crane is going to snap and kill him. It'll drive the wedge further between you. All of these secrets are piling on top of each other, slowly building to the tallest building in Gotham and it's only a matter of time before the whole thing collapses. All it does is hurt everyone you care about. That doesn't seem very heroic.

"Here, take my helmet." You offer the helmet to him once you reach your bike.

"Uh, no it's okay." Tim shakes his head. You're driving.

"Put the helmet on." You say sternly as you mount your bike, sending a glare to Tim.

Something about the look you give him makes Tim grab the helmet. "Right, okay." Tim nods and puts the helmet on before he gets on the back.

"Hold on." You state before Tim holds onto your waist.

You drive to Gotham General, pulling up to one of the entrances without blocking the ambulance entrance. Tim gets off and takes off the helmet, handing it back to you. He knows you know something. And if he's being honest, he's annoyed you didn't tell him. You aren't that close but...his dad just got shot and Jason fucking Todd knew about it. It was a hit. He stood outside and did nothing. Why wouldn't his own girlfriend know he's alive and planning a hit? You have acid generation and combat clairvoyance while also being an excellent marksman. Tim swears it can't be some coincidence you were there tonight.

"I'm really sorry about your dad." You state softly, holding the helmet on your thigh.

"Thanks." Tim looks back at the hospital. "That was Jason Todd outside, wasn't it?"

You nod softly and you know you can't deny that. Tim saw him "Yeah."

"I thought he was dead." Tim questions as his voice holds hints of venom, something you haven't heard before.

"Yeah." You nod again and you hate yourself for tonight. For everything. "Don't, uh, don't tell anyone. It's a long story." You hang your head, dodging the look Tim is surely giving you.

"You knew?" Tim scoffs, looking at you with annoyance and disappointment. Why the hell would you let everyone believe he were dead? "He faked his death or?"

You look back to him and all this sucks. You're sick of lying and hiding secrets. It's tiring and lonely. It's so fucking lonely.

"No." You shake your head. "He, uh...he really, uh...he really died." You suck in a shakey breath before you shake your head quickly. "I-I can't tell you anything else." You let out a bitter scoff. "That's shit and I know that. I'm sorry."

"Did he target us because of you? Because of the Titans?" All Tim wants is some clarity. There had to be reason. Tim helped you with a code. That's what it was.

"Not a Titan." You sigh with exhaustion, lacking any and all fight you'd normally have with the statement. "I don't know why." You lie but you're sick of this. Keeping these secrets is making you out to be the bad guy with everyone and you're not. You're just trying to protect everyone you care about so, you're not going to tell him in so many words but you're not going to cover it up either. "Um...yeah...maybe it was because of me but uh...I, uh, I never...I never thought he'd figure it out or....or come after you. I should have left you out of it."

Tim nods bitterly and he wants to understand but his dad could have been killed. "That code, it wasn't a murder mystery thing, was it?" Tim asks and you just suck in a breath, not offering him anything else. Technically, you aren't lying and technically you aren't telling him anything. He already knows. You don't need to so he nods. "I saw what you did. You knew they were going to start shooting. I was right."

You shake your head, looking to the sky and it's gloomy as always but it looks like it might snow. You scoff looking back to Tim. "I saw the guns."

"Bullshit, you know," Tim gestures a hand to you. "You're supposed to be a hero, like Batman and Robin but..." Tim shakes his head.

"Fuck Batman." You mutter as your jaw clenches.

"You're supposed to help people." Tim says sternly.

The lump in your throat grows and you bite your cheek so hard the taste of iron floods your mouth. It's not supposed to be this hard. And why does helping people have to be so black and white? Good and bad? It's not. Whether anyone likes it or not, the guys you want to target and take out permanently and the guys Jason was going after, that was helping. Making sure they can't hurt anyone else ever again. That's helping. Dick thinks he can help all of the Titans and he fucks up sometimes which gets people hurt, but he still helps. Sometimes people get hurt and that sucks but does that really make everyone else irrelevant? Does that really make everything else wrong? Or the motive and reasoning?

Helping people shouldn't be black and white, good and bad, morally good and morally evil. There needs to be a grey area because you have people like the Joker who needed to be killed for the greater good of everyone in Gotham. And you have people like Jason who isn't in his right mind and is being manipulated but should still be helped. It sucks Tim's dad got shot and you will regret going to Tim for help forever, but you're helping him by not telling him anything, even if you want to and even if he doesn't see it that way.

"I am literally begging you to please go inside and leave this alone, Tim." You force the words through gritted teeth. "I can't fucking tell you anything else, okay? I want to. If it were up to me, I'd fucking tell you what's going on but I can't. It's not my shit to say." You look to the ground and then back up to Tim, rolling your shoulders softly. "So, I'm sorry." You shake your head, giving up and cluing him enough. Technically, you're not admitting to anything, just admitting that you know what's going on.

"You just confirmed it." Tim says softly. "I'm gonna figure out what's going on and--"

"Tim! Please, go be with your dad. Trust me." You practically beg him because if he digs into this, what's going to stop Jason from actually going after him? Tonight might have been a threat or whatever, but at this point, you don't know if he would actually go after someone like Tim. You need him to just take what you're saying and understand it.

"That's my dad."

"I know and I know it sucks. I get it which is why I'm telling you to go be with him." You say softly as your voice cracks.

Tim nods softly, understanding why you're saying it. "Thanks for the ride."

"Just...text me about your dad, okay?" You ask. "I'm really fucking sorry."

"I will." Tim nods because he's beginning to think maybe this isn't on you. He might know who you are but you aren't as cut and dry as Batman and Robin always were. You're more morally grey and maybe it is more complicated because it involves Jason. You look terrified. "Thanks for saving me."

You nod quickly. "Of course." You say softly. "Good luck." You suck in a breath, popping the helmet on and taking off.

prev. chapter

series masterlist | masterlist | tag list

A/n: I still promise reader and Jason get a happy ending lmao This just had to happen lol but I do make up for it a little bit next chapter (pretty sure it's next chapter)

Tag list: @fairyofshampoo // @italiana-20 // @jasontoddsmentaldisorders // @purplerose291 // @lovelessamai // @makaelaseresin // @lenidaslenchen // @mayfieldss // @ghostkingblake // @im-done-with-this-im-out // @velvetskies // @lilylovelyxo // @cryinghotmess // @yesimwriting // @vivian-555 // @stainedstardom // @baebeepeach // @legend-o-zelda // @harleycao // @somehow-lovable-trash // @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx // @deyja-the-duck // @jasontoddslover // @captainmarvels-blog // @totallynotkaibiased // @scarlovesyou // @whydoyoucare866 // @littlemeowmeow1000 // @ginger24880 // @septixtrash // @kplatzman // @urmomsgayforme5

98 notes View Post

whydoyoucare866

11 months ago

im rethinking my jason todd series, i love the idea but im not so sure about the two chapters that i have, maybe ill rewrite them lol

Emergency Contact

Jason Todd x Gender Neutral Reader

Leave me something - or let me out. I'm starving. Push me, pull me. Waiting for the start of:

Things that I want, this happily ever after. You choke on your words, but you swallow them faster. Just want you to be my Emergency Contact.

Summary:

After Jason miraculously comes home from his brush with Deathstroke, you're both feeling it in very different ways. You have an unexpected physical wound from the battle, and he has many (very expected) emotional wounds. You help each other heal. Even if it's very stubborn on both your parts.

Jason Todd x GN!Powered!Reader. Enemies/FWB to Lovers. Angst and Hurt/Comfort. (Slight Smut). Set during Season 2, Episode 5.

Word Count: 10,400

Titans Masterlist | AO3 Link

If you want to be notified whenever I post a new fic, make sure to follow my library blog @sundropslibrary and turn on notifications there.

List of detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: general emotional angst, Jason has a self deprecating inner dialogue, (kind of) enemies to lovers - more like annoyances to fuck buddies to lovers, friends with benefits to lovers, the reader and Jason have a bantering/argumentative nature to their relationship, the reader is meant to be 100% gender neutral (the reader is never referred to in the third person, so there is no need to use they/them pronouns, but the reader is not called she/her or he/him), Jason calls the reader ‘babe’ (imo, a completely gender neutral term and he would call anybody that), mentions of alcohol (Jason drinking a beer), the reader character has ice powers (not entirely relevant to the plot but I couldn’t help myself lmao).

sexual themes throughout, mentions of sexting (no detailed descriptions), mentions of sexting in public, mentions of the reader character sending nudes to Jason (no detailed descriptions of the photos), one scene with detailed smut (but it is not the primary focus of the fic), the reader’s genitals are not described in any specific way, some dirty talk, Jason is more dominant and the reader is more submissive, penetrative sex, Jason is annoying even during sex, Jason has a pain kink (even when he’s a dom, he’s a painslut, I don’t make the rules), scratching/marking (Jason receiving), slight humiliation kink.

mentions of canon level violence, mentions of kidnapping (in alignment with canon), mentions of Jason being beaten by Deathstroke, mentions of Jason’s near-death experience (being dropped off the building), gun violence, the reader is injured - has a bullet wound/bullet fragment in their stomach, mentions of blood, descriptions of first-aid, mentions of puss from an infected wound (theoretically, not something that happens in the fic). That should be everything.

A/N: The title for the fic comes from a song by Pierce the Veil of the same name. It's a newer song, and it's one that I absolutely went to when looking for a title for this fic. The concept of becoming someone's emergency contact is about upgrading the relationship from casual to much more serious, and just the whole song, and specific lyrics in it suit this fic so well. I highly recommend listening to it paired with this fic.

This was based on a request from my old blog, but obvi I don't have that ask anymore - the request was about Jason getting shot and having his wound attended to by the reader, but I changed it to the reader getting shot cause I thought that was more interesting and less common. If the person who made that request sees this and finds my new blog, I hope you enjoy it! And in general, I hope everyone who reads this enjoys it.

...

If asked, you would be hard pressed to explain your relationship with Jason Todd.

The best way you could describe it would probably be - friends with benefits?

But most of the time, the two of you weren’t even friends. You weren’t the type to hang out casually, or spend time alone together if it didn’t involve ripping each other’s clothes off.

If you ever exchanged secrets or those precious bits of your most raw selves, it was by mistake. It was through sarcasm, or coming off the tired lips of someone who had just been exhausted by a few orgasms. The two of you knew each other well, quite literally inside and out. But you always made a deep, concerted effort to hold each other at arm’s length. And maybe that’s part of what all the snark and harsh words were for.

It wasn’t all arguing. You were friendly. You could be civil, at the very least.

Right from the moment you had first met Jason, you had found him to be so damn annoying, a shitstain on the earth - yet, someone you couldn’t stay away from. The line between flirtatious banter and a truly grinding argument was always so thin with the two of you.

…

You hadn’t expected that your life would be truly changed when you walked into that safehouse in Chicago that day. You truly thought nothing of him when his eyes landed on you - in those moments, a completely anonymous stranger, raking his eyes over you like you were a piece of meat. It was a gaze that immediately made you feel naked, something that made you want to smack him. You told yourself it was because he was being a pervert, not because of the heat that curled in your gut at feeling so intensely desired by him.

He had been sitting on the couch sipping a beer like he owned the place, his thighs spread wide in a way you immediately decided was arrogant and annoying rather than hot - showing off his muscle tone as if it was trying to break through his jeans. Definitely annoying. Definitely the stance of a fuckboy trying to look bigger and badder than he was. He definitely was not attractive.

When Dick led you, Rachel, Gar, and Kory further into the condo that seemed far too conspicuous to be a safehouse, the stranger you would later come to know as Jason quickly spoke up.

“Who are your friends?” He asked.

As he rose from the couch, his eyes lingered on you. Though his words seemed more out of curiosity, you couldn’t help but feel that bite of something more salacious lingering in his voice.

It caused you to scoff and roll your eyes.

“Not important.” Dick declared, his voice snippy. He was clearly annoyed with this new guy, and you could tell that your perceptions of him were definitely not ill-informed.

“Who’s he?” Kory asked, going for the obvious question.

“Not important.” Dick parroted out the words again, sounding much shorter with his patience.

“Anybody want a brew?” Jason asked, motioning with the beer bottle in his hand.

“Brew?” You twisted your eyebrows with disgust, staring him down as you commented on his odd choice of slang.

He didn’t get to reply, as you were trampled over by Gar’s enthusiastic voice in your ear.

“I do!” He said, raising his hand with excitement.

“No, you don’t.” You quickly told him, reaching out to grab his hand and put it back down. “It’s disgusting.”

You had a grand suspicion that Gar had never drank beer before, and he had no idea what he was truly asking for. Rather, he was simply taking advantage of trying new things because Dick and Kory were incredibly slack parental figures and he was away from home for the first time.

“No, no one wants a brew.” Dick sighed, shaking his head. He threw Jason a small glare and you resisted the urge to laugh.

“That can’t be Adamson.” Kory said, motioning toward Jason.

This left you confused. But you didn’t question it.

“He’s not Adamson. Adamson’s in the bathroom. Unconscious.” Dick explained.

“Hi, I’m Rachel.” Rachel told Jason, offering him a sweet smile - being her usual sweet self.

“Jason.” He introduced himself, in that moment, finally giving you a name to that obnoxious face.

“I’m Gar!” Gar said with a grin, to which Jason nodded.

Jason caught you glaring at him, and looked you up and down again, as if trying to willfully tear off your clothes with his eyes. It made your skin itch with heat and you would forever deny that it was a feeling you liked.

“What can I call you, babe?” He asked, his voice entirely slimy, the kind of tone he would have used to recite cheesy lines to Tinder dates, you were entirely sure of.

Before you could come up with some clever reply, Dick sighed in frustration and started balking again.

“Okay, who we all are doesn’t matter right now.” He pressed, his neck so entirely tense that veins began to pop from the skin. “Can we just chill out, relax, sit on the couch and watch TV or something?”

It seemed that he wouldn’t get his wish.

Gar quickly charged around the table, finding something else to get strung up about.

“Yo, when did you get another one?” He asked, putting his hands on both of the expensive cases on the long dining table - a copy identical to the one you knew to be containing Dick’s Robin outfit.

It made you curious, and the answer that followed certainly surprised you.

“That one’s mine.” Jason said, his chest literally puffing out with pride as he stated the fact.

“No way.” You scoffed.

“Yes way.” He quickly argued back, the whole exchange sounding entirely juvenile.

“This one’s yours? Wait, you’re Robin too?” Gar quickly put the pieces together.

“I thought you were Robin?” Rachel commented, tilting her head toward Dick with curiosity.

“I am.” Dick said firmly.

“He was.” Jason corrected, a cocky smirk forming across his lips.

“Batman really lowered the height requirement, huh.” You said.

The words flew from your mouth before you could stop them, seeing as it was likely the only thing you could nitpick about Jason’s appearance. Between his stunning sharp jaw, his piercing blue eyes, his oddly appealing wild hair, his muscle tone being somehow visible beneath his baggy clothing - all of it made you equally frustrated and annoyed with him, and your baser urges couldn’t resist the low-hanging fruit.

You felt victory and a slight pang of guilt when Jason deflated because of your comment, shrinking back into himself at your words.

He didn’t have anything to say in return, he simply sipped his beer.

“Wait, how many Robins are there?” Gar said, beginning to excitedly ramble at the thought. “Are there a lot? Cause I would love to-”

“Okay, quiet.” Kory cut him off, clearly becoming annoyed with all of this dancing around the point as much as Dick was. “Sit.”

Her words were firm, and you couldn’t help but to listen. You found yourself collapsing to sit on the couch while Rachel and Gar took seats at the dining table. Jason continued to linger in the middle of the room, staring at Kory and Dick as their frustration filled the air.

“Bathroom.” Kory told Dick, and then they left to deal with whoever - or whatever - Adamson was.

Jason sighed and took a seat beside you. When his eyes fell on you, you set your jaw and glared at him. You didn’t give away a single ounce of the heat you were feeling as his eyes locked with yours.

“Even if I am the shorter Robin, I can assure you that everything else about me is… very long.” He lowered his voice and whispered those last words, crowding into your personal space as he did so.

It sent shivers down your spine, his silken voice making the words sound too tempting. Even if you twisted your face and said ‘gross!’ causing him to dissolve into laughter, you didn’t make an effort to move away from him or put any space between your two bodies on the very large couch. You told yourself it was because you were tired from a very long day of travel, not because you were enjoying the smell of his strangely expensive cologne from this close by.

His grin was still entirely smug, and you couldn’t stand it.

When he raised the beer bottle up to his mouth again, you reached over and put a hand on his forearm, forcefully dragging his arm down as you made a snide comment.

“That shit is disgusting, why the hell do you drink it?” You asked.

You found your face drifting toward his again and if asked, you would say it was a form of intimidation - not that you were being drawn in by an unconscious attraction to him.

“Because I can.” He replied, just as snide as he slipped your grip and sipped on the drink.

You mocked his words in an entirely childish voice, and then you raised a single finger up to it and skimmed along the neck of the bottle. It took only a single moment of concentration with your skilled powers to freeze the beer inside solid. He thought he felt an extra chill coming off his hand, but convinced himself that he imagined it. But when he kept it tilted and nothing came out to meet his lips, he shook it and then stuck an inquiring eye inside the bottle.

When he saw that it was completely frozen, he looked over and saw you grinning, and little did you know - that was the moment he became completely taken with you. You were one of the most annoying people he had ever met, and he found himself so intensely attracted to you.

Even if it was getting under your skin by arguing with you or fucking your brains out, he knew in that moment - he had to get inside you and drive you insane the same way that he knew you would for him.

…

When Dick left to go check on his old circus friend Clay, Jason winked at you and said ‘don’t miss me too much’. You made a show of putting a finger near your mouth and audibly gagging.

Later that night, when Jason didn’t return, you hated the curl of disappointment that panged in your stomach. You wanted to hit yourself for staring at the door, waiting for the second Robin to come in behind Dick.

You hated yourself even more for replying to Jason’s texts.

Apparently he had taken your phone out of your jacket pocket when you went to the bathroom (not to see Adamson - a different bathroom, to pee). And he had put himself in your contacts as ‘Hot Guy’. He had also sent himself a text from your phone that read ‘omg Jason you’re so hot, will you fuck me?’. And then replied to it from his own phone with a picture of his cock.

Unfortunately, the only thing you could mock about the picture was poor lighting.

When you told him as much, he quickly remedied that with several more pictures - ones with better lighting. He sent a video with very distinct audio. You would deny that you rushed to put your headphones in to listen to it while you sat on the train with Kory and Gar. You would deny that it drove a hard, hot pain between your thighs.

You dug through a folder and sent some pictures of your own. You told yourself it was to prove to him that you were too good for him - to show off something he could never actually have. To tease him.

You would deny that you loved the compliments he gave you, that you ate up the affection like a plant lovingly soaking up the sun.

When you were sexting him, you had no clue that you were ever going to see him again. It was almost mindless, something for a dopamine hit to distract yourself from all the chaos going on around you. You weren’t doing it because you actually liked Jason. You didn’t have any real attractions toward him, or any real plans to carry out all of the bold things you said in those messages.

You had no clue that you’d end up living together.

When you did find out that Dick would be taking Jason into the newly reopened Titans Tower along with you, Gar, and Rachel, you didn’t make a big deal of it in your mind. When Jason made flirtatious remarks toward you in person, you brushed him off. You put up a wall.

You told yourself that he was nothing more than a cocky, shallow guy who would use you for sex and then throw you away - something you could never actually build a proper relationship with. And if you were supposed to live together, be some kind of team like Dick expected you to be, then you couldn’t be messy. You couldn’t get emotional.

You had no clue that on one of those first nights living together, your self assured discipline not to give into your lust for him would break like a wafer cookie, and you would be in his bed faster than a sea turtle running into ocean.

…

“Fuck, babe, you feel so good on my cock.” Jason grunted, his face buried in your neck as he thrusted deep inside of you. The loud squelch of artificial wetness coming from between your thighs as he worked his hips, working you open with a needy, demanding pace. “Bet you love this cock, huh? Tell me how fuckin’ much you love it.”

“Shut up.”

The words came from your throat as a weak whimper, much less powerful than you had intended.

You didn’t want to give him any more power than he already held over you - he had you weak and willing on his cock, something you would have never admitted could be true until it was happening in these moments.

Though you would never admit it aloud, you loved the way he handled you. Having you pinned against the bed with his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips, having you breathless and moaning as he fucked into you with fast, obviously skilled strokes. Your nails cut into the flesh of his back, and he let out a low rumble from his gut as the sharp sting sent a wave of pleasure through him.

You hated the twinge of lustful embarrassment that curled in your gut when he chuckled at your words.

“Oh, you want me to shut up?” He asked, slightly breathless from the act himself, moving one hand beside your head to raise himself up slightly to look in your eyes.

He was sweaty, disheveled, his hair a mess, his muscles taught with the effort as he continued to pound into you. You hated that you had imagined him much like this before, and that this outlived all of your fantasies.

“Yes.” You fired back. “Just shut up and fuck me.”

He bit his lip - something you didn’t know was him trying to hold back his orgasm, so utterly turned on by your bratty defiance, the twinge of a whimper in your voice as you said those words.

“You weren’t tellin’ me to shut up when I was texting you.”

He said, all hot breath fanning across your chin, his hips spearing forward in sharp, hard hits that made your skin smack loudly together. It made you work hard to suppress moans deep in your chest in a way that was painful, like venom inside your lungs. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of your sounds, of knowing just how good he was fucking you - even if he could see it written all over your pleasure twisted face.

“You only begged for more when I was tellin’ you how I was gonna lay you on my bed. Take you apart… make you scream my name.”

He reached his other hand from your hip to the point where you were joined. He began touching that tender place, making sharp, vicious strokes that were almost vengeful. Tears easily gathered in your eyes and he let out another chuckle when you choked on a deep, pleasurable wail.

“Tell me, how many times did you touch yourself reading what I wrote?”

He asked, leaning down to whisper the words right in your ear.

“How many times did you cum thinking about me?”

“I didn’t.” You choked out, digging your nails deeper into the skin of his back, causing him to grunt as the pain mixed with the pleasure flowing through him.

“Sure, babe.” He smirked down at you, turning that look into something absolutely pavlovian that would forever make you feel his cock deep inside of you when you saw it, rather than feeling annoyed.

Maybe from that point on, it was a bit of both.

In an effort to shut him up, you reached up and claimed his lips. It was supposed to be a kiss, but it was mostly teeth. When you bit down on his bottom lip, snarling, he tasted blood and the way he moaned at the pain was absolutely unmistakable. It was something you remembered and used against him many times after that.

…

You wouldn’t allow yourself any room for self hatred when it came to that break in your self control. When it became an ongoing thing, you spun it as positive in your mind.

It was just sexual release. You and Jason both needed it. It paired well with intense training and the heavy studying that Dick made you do. It lowered your stress levels a lot, and it helped you get through the day.

The more time you spent around Jason, the more you got to know him, and the more you came to realize that he was nowhere near shallow. You easily saw that he was caring, deep, complex, troubled. The more time passed, you found yourself falling for him and the more you deeply denied it. Because it was just sex.

Things were good between the two of you, and you knew that if you added anything else to the mix - any complicated, mushy feelings - you would fuck it up.

You were especially reminded of this - how important it was not to fuck things up - just a day or so before every other force aside from you railed Titans Tower and began royally fucking things up.

…

It was a morning just like any other at Titans Tower. It was delightfully quiet - even though Dick demanded that everyone get up at ungodly early hours to begin training, you had somehow managed to wake up before everyone else and you were enjoying the peace it brought you.

When you got up to see that Jason was already in the kitchen, standing at the counter as he munched on a bowl of cereal, you wanted to scorn the idea that your peace would be interrupted. But instead, you found yourself willfully suppressing a smile.

You yawned and walked over to the counter, grabbing a bowl from one of the cupboards, thinking that cereal was just the right idea on his part. A deep frown cut through your face when you poured out the rest of the cereal box he had left on the counter, and a very measly amount fell into your bowl.

“What kind of asshole only leaves three fucking cornflakes in the bottom of the box?” You scoffed, causing him to chuckle.

“Learn to count, babe.” He told you, speaking with his mouth half-full. “That’s more than three.”

You rolled your eyes. You were likely exaggerating - but still, it seemed rude to you to leave such a small portion, barely a handful, in the bottom of the box.

“Or did I make you cum so hard last night that I knocked the common sense out of your head?” He added on, throwing you that signature smirk that made heat bloom between your thighs.

You let out a sarcastic snort, giving him a purposefully disgusted grimace as you lifted the bowl up and dumped the remaining cereal into his portion instead.

“You might as well take these.” You told him. “And don’t flatter yourself, you’re not that good.”

You moved behind them, distracting yourself from the conversation by making a cup of coffee.

“Oh really?” He perked up, rising to his full height, pure mischief in his voice. “It didn’t sound like it last night.”

Much to your horror, he then began imitating your moans.

“‘Oh, Jason! Oh, fuck me! More!’”

It was a cartoonish, pornographic imitation, something he likely wouldn’t have done if the others were anywhere within earshot. Oddly enough, even though your relationship was casual, you still kept it guarded and private, as though it were some precious secret that needed to be kept from the others.

“‘Jason, please, your dick is the best! Oh, make me cum!’”

But that was the farthest thing from your mind as embarrassment curled in your stomach, the reaction he likely wanted to draw out of you. You hated that you didn’t truly know if it was accurate or not, because sometimes - yes, he did fuck your brains out and make you completely mindless on his cock.

But you would never admit that he was right.

“Shut up.” You sighed, causing him to dissolve into laughter, feeling as though he had won.

But you wouldn’t simply leave it at that.

Instead, as you pushed the button on the machine and your coffee began to drip, you turned around and gently placed your fingers on the side of his cereal bowl. You froze all the milk inside of it solid, making it into one large frozen chunk with the spoon stuck inside when he wasn’t looking - distracted, staring at your face, looking for any trace of the reaction that he had drawn out of you.

You just glared, and he smirked once more.

When he picked up the spoon again and went to take another bite, the entire bowl came with it. He sighed in defeat when he realized what you had done.

“You know, it’s so damn annoying when you do that.” He sighed.

“I know.” You grinned at him.

He couldn’t help the butterflies that fluttered in his stomach at this. He resisted the urge to grab you by the sides of your head and steal the grin of your mouth with his own. He told you that it was out of annoyance, and not affection. He told himself those lines were most definitely not blurred when it came to you.

…

Confessing your feelings to Jason would not have been your choice.

Given the choice, you would have let your feelings quietly live and die inside of you. You would have just kept Jason as a friend. You would have even dropped the amazing sex if it meant staying on good terms with him.

But the stakes rose pretty quickly, and things were taken out of your hands. The choice was stolen from you and Jason entirely against your will.

When you found out he was missing, supposedly kidnapped by Doctor Light on the heels of some misguided plan - something inside of you shattered. Up until that moment, if you thought it was just a stupid crush, or an infatuation inside of you that would easily fade with time - you quickly found out that you were wrong.

You went through the stages of grief like a rocket.

Denial. Staring at the door, waiting for him to walk inside at any moment. Just like you had back at the safehouse.

Anger. Being so pissed at Dick at the other older Titans that you could barely breathe. How had they let this happen to him? How could they make him feel so inadequate that he felt the need to go out on his own, half-cocked, clearly doing something in the name of looking for their approval?

Bargaining. You would have traded places with him. You would have been the one, alone and scared and stranded if it meant that he got to be at home safe. You would have gone with him to carry out the stupid plan if he had only asked. Why hadn’t he asked you?

Depression. You wept in your room, hands clasped over your face, letting out chest-shaking sobs as you thought of the possibility of him never returning home again. You realized the possibility of him dying was very real and it made your lungs burn.

And then finally - Acceptance. You finally accepted that your feelings for him were something bigger, and if it meant that you were the only person in the Tower who truly cared about him (probably aside from Gar) - the only person who didn’t just see him as a pawn to be used against Deathstroke - then you had to do something about it.

So you laid out your love for Jason. You put it all on the line for him. You accidentally confessed to him, showed your feelings in a gesture so quiet it screamed.

You knew that for someone who stepped up to become Robin, someone who scorned cops for pummeling down on the innocent when they were supposed to be protectors - stepping up to try and save his life meant a love bigger than anything else you could have done.

And he was terrified of it. There was a big justice in your love for him. And to him, there was an even bigger justice in giving you an out to escape it - to escape loving him.

…

Hectic.

That was easily how you would describe the last few days at Titans Tower.

Between the unexpected arrival of Rose - Dick taking on another stray because, like Rachel said, he couldn’t resist a bird with a broken wing. Finding out that she was related to one of the deadliest men on earth that the Titans apparently had previous history with. And then Jason going off on his own without telling you, some botched hostage trade, and the group picking up yet another stray - a strange boy who had saved Jason’s life. It was all a blur of hectic chaos that had you snapping your neck to keep up.

Sleep was scarce and you couldn’t remember the last time you’d had a proper meal.

But you weren’t truly worried about any of that.

Dust had been kicked up around your life, and you couldn’t wait for it to settle before you made your next important decision.

Even though the wounds were still tender, you knew that things were safe for now, and your number one concern was Jason.

The minute he had gotten in the door, even though he was slightly hobbled and clearly sore from whatever Deathstroke had done to him, he rushed out of your sight. He was clearly eager to get away from everyone like a wounded animal sulking away to lick his wounds in peace. And when you had chased him, ignoring a nagging pain in your own side from the fight, he had slammed his bedroom door in your face, entirely uncaring of the fact that you called out his name, concerned for him.

The rest of the group was distracted with Conner - not knowing what he had been shot with or how to fix it. You hated it, but in the eyes of the group, yet again, Jason and any of his problems fell to the back burner.

After you had taken a short shower and changed your clothes, you found yourself here. Standing in front of Jason’s closed bedroom door, hoping not to face another cold rejection.

You wondered if he would be sleeping, wondered if you should interrupt his peace. But you knew that sleep was unlikely after everything that had happened.

So you took the leap.

You raised a fist, once again pushing down that stinging pain coming from the right side of your stomach. You reasoned that it was probably nothing more than a bruise forming there. And you knocked on the door.

A few moments later, the door was jerked open, and Jason glared at you.

His eyes were dull and tired, and there was a large bruise forming on the side of his mouth. Probably one of many others that you couldn’t see, from the way he had been walking earlier. He likely hadn’t been sleeping, but you had disturbed him.

“What the hell do you want?” He grumbled out, his voice dull, lacking any true fight.

“I wanted to check on you.” You told him, entirely honest. “I know it might seem stupid, but I wanna see how you’re doing.”

Jason scoffed and rolled his eyes.

He wanted to agree that - yes, it was stupid. It should have been obvious how he was doing after being kidnapped, beaten, and dropped off a building. But he was an idiot who had gotten himself thrown headfirst into that mess, thinking he could handle it. And he didn’t need to go crying to you about how badly he had fucked up. He had made a poor choice and he deserved all of the consequences. It was a simple fact of life.

“I’m doing just fine, thanks.” Jason said, entirely snide and sarcastic. “Look, I don’t need your help, okay? So fuck off.”

It was a set of harsh, cutting words. But he thought getting distance from you would be best. This whole thing had woken him up from the sweet little fantasy the two of you had been participating in. He was a natural born fuck-up. And sure, he could have you for a while, play around a bit - but he could never truly make you happy. Eventually, he would fuck you up too. He was a harsh poison and it would be better if he got out of your life before you felt the full effects.

He moved to shove the door closed and upon instinct, you reached up and fought him on it. Unconsciously, you winced as a sharp pain came from the injury in your stomach, reaching for it with your free hand as you held the door open with the other. It should have been no big deal. With your meta abilities, you usually healed quicker. You weren’t even used to feeling it when you got hurt. You were probably just feeling it worse because you were tired.

You tried to ignore the pain. But in a moment, Jason’s eyes went wide with worry as his gaze darted from your face, knit with pain, to where your hand was nursing the injury. Any sense of smarmy discontent dropped from his features, immediately being replaced with a softness and worry for you.

“You’re hurt.” He said quietly.

He let the door fall open again, reaching for your hand to inspect the injury himself.

“I’m fine.” You played the card this time, exchanging his lie for your own.

It was an odd play. He had lied about not being so torn up inside, emotionally devastated as he was, and now you were lying about not being physically injured from the fight. The two of you made an odd, but perfectly matched pair.

Jason barreled right past your words, and you were easily pliant to his touch as he removed your hand from the injury. You certainly were not expecting for him to find anything incriminating under your hand. But he glared at you when he found bright red spread across your palm, a glossy wetness leaking through your shirt.

“You’re bleeding.” He grunted at you.

Clearly, he was disappointed in the fact that you had neglected to bring this injury to the group’s attention. Pissed off at the fact that you weren’t in the medbay with Conner receiving some treatment right now.

Maybe you could blame it on the chaos. Maybe you could blame it on the fact that with everyone so emotionally distraught, you didn’t want to be just another problem for everyone to fuss over.

“Whoops.” You breathed out sarcastically. “I didn’t even notice.”

That last part was honest. In all the adrenaline, all your worrying over whether or not Jason was going to live as you watched him dangle so high off the ground - you truly hadn’t paid any mind to the injury.

“You didn’t-?” Jason huffed out in anger, but didn’t bother finishing the sentence.

Perhaps he partially understood himself, knowing how the adrenaline from a fight could stamp out pain. Or perhaps he knew how truly stubborn you were and he didn’t want to waste his energy arguing with you.

“You need this treated.” He added on.

No matter how fucked in the head he was, he never wanted to see you hurt. That was something he would definitely waste his energy on - wearing down your stubbornness until you let him or someone else in the house take care of the injury properly.

“Conner is worse off than I am.” You shrugged. “He needs the attention more.”

“Then let me help you.” He said, an impatient nagging rising up in his throat. “Bruce gave me some first aid training. One thing that means I’m not totally useless.”

The words made your chest ache for him, a pain that easily competed with the bleeding wound.

“Jason-”

You wanted to argue with him. You wanted to tell him he had infinite worth to you.

But of course, he cut you off.

“Just go sit on the bed.” He told you, quiet, but a firm command that you couldn’t ignore.

He gently pushed past you, on a quest for some supplies to patch you up with. You then found yourself drifting into his room almost mindlessly, your hand clutching the wound again upon instinct. It was a place that you felt oddly at home. The nights you had spent in that bed since coming to Titans Tower, your head delightfully empty as he had fucked you hard and fast - they were by far your favourites.

You would say it was because of the sex, and not just because you got to be wrapped up in Jason’s arms. Maybe everything had changed. Maybe your answers were different now. Maybe you were raw and tender and Jason wasn’t prepared to chase you in that devotion.

But that was just the thing. With you and Jason, there was never any sense of devotion. You and Jason were always hard and fast. Teasing each other, verging on the edge of vengeful. It was a flame that burned intensely hot - but it was never anything soft. It was never anything that prompted you to knock on his door so late, wanting to check on his well being. It was nothing that prompted you to make chase to put your life on the line for him.

Even just knowing that he had the intent to attend to your injury, called himself useful because of it - the thought cradled you like a warm blanket. It had you balancing on the edge of a dam holding back a barrage of feelings that you had been quelling down since the moment you had first put your lips on his.

“I told you to sit.” Jason’s voice came from behind you.

He had raided the infirmary and now had a handful of supplies - luckily without anyone seeing him or questioning why. When you turned to him, he was closing the bedroom door behind him, sealing you both in with this newfound soft intensity, the tired lull of two people unwilling to hold back that softness anymore. It was entirely dangerous, and entirely life-saving at the same time; and neither of you realized it.

“Since when do you get to boss me around?” You told him, your voice low and lacking any true spirit or sarcasm.

It was in the same vein as the banter the two of you usually threw around - bickering about who was a bigger asshole, who was more stubborn, who was better in bed.

You expected some kind of sexual comment in return. You could almost hear it now - he was the boss of you because he made you melt on his cock, made you mindless and dumb with it.

But, no dice.

The longer you stared at him, catching bits of the fresh pain swimming through those gorgeous blue eyes, you wished so badly for the mischief and sarcasm and light to come back and bite you the way that it used to.

It only made your stomach churn harder at the whole situation. Things had officially changed between you and Jason. You had yet to find out if it was for the better, or for the painstakingly worse.

Jason sighed through his nose.

“You can be such an asshole sometimes.” He told you. Coming from him, and given the nature of your relationship, you knew it was almost a compliment. “Will you just sit down and let me help you?”

Even though you were utterly terrified of the swelling of emotions you felt, bound to come to a head - you did.

You sat on the edge of the bed and he placed the supplies beside you.

When he mumbled out a quiet ‘lay back’, and you did, his cool fingertips at the hem of your shirt pulling it upward felt strangely more intimate than any other time you had been in this same position. It wasn’t heady, you weren’t granted the distraction of his mouth on yours and his tongue shoved between your lips while a harsh throbbing nagged between your legs.

This was quiet, and calm, and gentle.

When you caught his eye above you as he wiped away the blood with some clean gauze, you saw nothing but pity and worry and sparkling affection for you. You almost dared to call it something as epic and dangerous as love, buried deep in his eyes. He worked with the most delicate touch, almost as if he was afraid to break you, before he glanced down and inspected the wound.

His brow furrowed with even more intense worry, guilt nipping at his insides when he got a good look at it.

“I think I see a bullet in here.” He told you, and then he moved around the bed and grabbed his phone, turning on the flashlight to have a better light to inspect it. You felt intensely naked, intensely caught when he began shining the light on your stomach with a harshly inquisitive look across his face. “Definitely something shiny. You got shot and you didn’t fucking tell anyone?”

It was only then that you realized when you had gotten the wound - the exact moment clicking into place in your mind.

“It was only a ricochet.” You argued quietly. “It’s not that bad.”

Jason scoffed and rolled his eyes, and began sorting out his supplies, preparing to pull out whatever was lodged inside of you.

…

Dick explicitly told you to stay put.

They only wanted the more experienced Titans, the Varsity squad on the case when dealing with Deathstroke. He blamed young naive incompetence as the reason Jason had gotten captured in the first place. You blamed him and Bruce pushing Jason out, making him feel like he needed so desperately to prove himself. But it was something Dick wasn’t ready to hear - an argument you weren’t going to have with the very stubborn team leader.

Instead, you went for the silent route. You trailed the rest of them out of Tower, and when Dick strayed away from the rest of the group, his head on a swivel as he glanced back and forth, seemingly wanting to assure that none of the others were following him - you followed your gut instincts and went after him.

You hid in the shadows and the moment that Deathstroke hit the button and those panels scrolled up, revealing Jason stranded on that scaffolding - you couldn’t help yourself.

“Jason!”

You screamed out his name, you leapt forward.

Dick didn’t have time to scold you, not before the gunfire started.

Kory came out of nowhere - seemingly, she had the same idea as you. Putting her life on the line for an emotionally repressed man that she hadn’t admitted her feelings for. But she was there because she was in love with the other Robin. (Or rather, a man who claimed over and over again that he wasn’t Robin.)

Things quickly became a blur - flashes of flame as Kory fought, battling with the muzzle flashes from Deathstroke’s guns, limbs flying as they fought each other. You didn’t see it, but Deathstroke raised and aimed at you as you rushed toward the window, blindly going after Jason. In response, Dick charged forward, redirecting the gun as he pulled the trigger. You heard the sharp ‘ping’ sound of metal on metal - what you couldn’t see was the bullet hitting one of the metal beams in the ceiling. But you certainly felt it when it sliced into your side.

At the time, it was nothing compared to the fear you felt for Jason.

His eyes were wide with terror, and you could only focus on getting him to safety. You had no idea that a large part of his panic came from seeing you in the building. He had hoped that Dick would keep you away from all of this. But there you were, standing a few feet away from a man with a gun who was shooting around wildly. Jason would have delighted in being dropped off the building to his death if he had to see you get fatally shot when he could do nothing but squirm on the other side of the glass.

You put two hands on the glass, banging on it - of course, it was no use. It was inches thick, meant to keep people from going through it at this height. Working entirely on instinct, you put your palms flat across it and began forming ice crystals over it, hoping to make it rigid and breakable if it was frozen.

Once there was enough ice, you quickly looked around and spotted a metal pipe there for the in-progress construction of the building, so you grabbed it and rushed to smash the glass with it. You felt victorious as it shattered, and Jason flinched away from the shards, putting you one step closer to freeing him.

Though the moment the glass was cleared, leaving the wind whipping around you, his first words of greeting to you were not celebratory.

“What the hell are you doing here?” He barked at you, clearly angry with you.

You felt a dull ache in your chest at this. You thought he might be relieved, happy, pleased. At the time, you couldn’t interpret his harsh reaction as worry for you possibly getting hurt.

Nonetheless, you ignored his harshness. You would save him, whether he wanted to be saved or not. You draped your body through the window, reaching out to him. You made an effort to keep most of your weight planted on the floor of the building, in case the scaffolding wasn’t stable enough to hold two people at once.

“What do you think?” You replied, pure sarcasm dripping through your voice as you reached behind Jason and began fiddling with the rope around his wrists.

The position put the two of you in intensely close proximity. Jason caught a whiff of your unique scent, the shower gel you used that mingled with your body’s natural oils; and he felt so painfully at home. For the first time that night, he held back tears. He couldn’t help but to lean his forehead on your shoulder, taking comfort in having you so near after being on edge and terrified for so many hours. You resisted the urge to run a hand through his hair, to cradle him and give him further comfort. You forced yourself to focus on the task at hand - getting him to safety.

Behind you, at the very back of the room, Dick and Deathstroke wrestled with the remote for the explosives attached to the scaffolding.

Just as you managed to get Jason’s wrists freed, Deathstroke hit the switch, and the bombs went off.

…

You winced loudly as Jason dabbed at the wound with disinfectant.

“I would say sorry… but, you’ll thank me later when this isn’t swollen and leaking puss.” He told you, throwing you a small smirk.

It was smug. It was the usual kind of humor that he gave you.

It was comforting to know that every trace of the Jason you knew hadn’t been stolen by Deathstroke.

You held your breath as he pressed down with the medicine-covered gauze again, drawing much less of a reaction out of you this time.

“Great mental image, Jay.” You replied, your voice dull. It lacked any of the true bite you wanted to deliver in response to him. “I’m sure it’s such a turn-on thinking about my puss.”

It was meant to be a joke. But even unconsciously, it was an acknowledgement of that dangerous line - the line between truly caring and just using someone for sex. The line between having someone in your life as a body to get off with, and being so… homely with them.

You and Jason were towing that line dangerously. It was a thread that you were balancing on, and it would either break, or you would cross to the other side and be forever bonded to him.

Jason shrugged. “Maybe I don’t have to be turned on by you all the time.”

There was more stuck in his throat. Another dangerous acknowledgement of that line.

‘Maybe I just have to care.’

Both of you lulled into silence because neither of you dared to say it.

After a few moments, Jason put down the gauze and hesitated to reach for the tweezers. He knew that pulling the bullet out would be painful, but inevitable. It was a lot like the state of your relationship with him. Break it off, and find happiness elsewhere, or acknowledge this big thing swelling to fruition between the two of you. Have Jason fuck it up eventually. Painful, but inevitable.

“You shouldn’t have to be hurt like this.” Jason said quietly. “You shouldn’t have gotten hurt for my sake.”

There it was again - words with a dangerous double meaning.

You looked up at him, pure pain knit across his face, and for a moment he looked from the tweezers to you and he could hardly stand holding your gaze.

‘It’s worth it.’ You wanted to say. ‘For you, I’d bear any pain.’

The words lived and died behind your eyes, and your tongue decided on something else entirely.

“It’s nothing.” You told him.

You downplayed the pain, pretending that the injury was only a minor inconvenience for you. And in the grand scheme of life, it was. With time, it would heal. Losing Jason would be something you’d never heal from.

Jason shook his head at this statement.

He forced himself to reach for the tweezers then. He handed you his phone, a silent agreement that you would hold the light as steady as you could. He knew you well, too well, and he knew that you needed something else to focus on to push away the pain. He put his free hand on the plush of your stomach, pulling back slightly to hold the wound open while you held the light on it.

When the sharp metal of the tweezers breached your wound, you wanted to swear. You wanted to call him an asshole as the pain shot through you. You wanted to scold him for leaving the Tower and being kidnapped in the first place. But you knew that even if it was playful or sarcastic, fueled by the bite of your pain, it was not what he needed to hear right now. So instead, you held your breath, and gripped his phone hard, keeping the light steady as you bared the sharp shocks of pain.

After a moment of digging around that felt like an eternity, he pulled out the fragment and held it up to show you as you collapsed back against the bed, panting with tears stinging the edges of your eyes.

“It’s not nothing.” He declared sharply.

You couldn’t conjure a response. You knew he was right. And you didn’t want to be forced to admit it.

Instead, you turned off the light from his phone and relaxed into the bed, closing your eyes as he walked around to the trashcan and threw out the bullet fragment. It fell into the bottom of the plastic wastebasket with a very small ‘ping’ - making you wonder how something so small could cause so much trouble.

Jason quickly returned to you, dabbing more disinfectant into the wound in a way that made you groan and flex away from the touch. Once again, he did not apologize.

There were a few moments of muddy silence with nothing but your slightly labored breathing, trying to contain your sounds of pain so as to not make him feel any further guilt about the whole incident.

Your mind churned, and you couldn’t help the next words that came from your mouth.

“I meant what I said.” You told him.

At the sound of this, his hands immediately stilled. You felt his eyes on you, and you forced yourself to open your own and look up at him once again. He stared you down with intense examination. He looked for any ounce of falsity, any sign that you were lying, even posturing to make him feel better after everything that had happened.

He didn’t find any.

You thought he might acknowledge you, that he might say something back to return your mighty words. Instead, he simply reached for more gauze, and began putting a final bandage on your wound.

…

The explosion caused a sharp rattle through your ears. It shocked you and made you dizzy and put the whole world off-kilter. The only thing you could perceive past the mind-numbing hum in your brain was the feeling of Jason’s rough glove gripping tightly onto your wrist, so you gripped back as hard as you could.

When you blinked open your eyes, you were half-hanging out of the open window, the edge of the floor cutting into your waist as you held onto Jason by nothing but his wrist. His whole body weight created a harsh burn, straining on the muscles in your shoulder as you watched him dangle hundreds of feet above the street.

Panic flooded you.

You scrambled to reach out with your other hand, and the moment you moved, your shirt slipped against the sleek, polished material of the floor and you began sliding out the window. You gasped and Jason stilled his panicked flailing immediately.

“Don’t move!” He shouted.

“Give me your other hand so I can pull you up!” You shouted back.

Beyond the unpleasant hum of your eardrums rattling, you still heard chaos behind you. Gunshots, the grunts of fighting, Kory and Dick’s voices yelling. They were busy with Deathstroke, they couldn’t help you or Jason.

Jason looked up at you with glassy eyes.

He knew that with all his gear weighing him down, even with the training you had been doing, you wouldn’t be able to pull him up. Not by yourself. And if you weren’t careful, his body weight would just pull you out of the window and cause you to go tumbling down to your death along with him.

When you saw that frown etch across his lips, that filthy look of dawning - you glared at him.

“Give me your other hand!” You screamed, your voice raking across your throat like hot coals. A hot boiling rage at the fact that he seemed almost determined to die.

There was one thing he was determined about. If he was going to die, he wasn’t going to take you down with him.

His gloved wrist started to slip from your nervous, sweaty palm, and you tried hard to hold on tight. You formed large shards of ice, hoping you could create some kind of bond there by freezing your hand to his. But it would only be temporary with gravity trying to tear the two of you apart.

“You have to drop me, Y/N.” He said, nothing but pure mourning on his lips. “I’m dead weight.”

You both knew it was a horrendous double meaning.

He thought he was a dead weight to your life.

“No!” You immediately defied this thought, that feral rage ripping at your throat once again. “I’m gonna pull you up. I’m gonna pull you up!”

You reached your other hand down and tightly wrapped both of your hands around his wrist, yanking upward. The harsh movement caused you to slide even further out the window. You were now dangling dangerously over San Francisco with only the thickness of your thighs giving you any real stability on the intensely high up floor. It made you dizzy, and the only thing you had to focus on were the wet wells of Jason’s eyes staring up at you.

“It’s no use!” Jason said tearfully.

You ignored him.

You cast your chin over your shoulder, and began shouting.

“Help me!” You screamed, trying desperately to get the attention of Dick or Kory. “Help me! Fuck!”

“You have to let go.”

Jason’s words immediately shifted your focus back to him.

But of course, you refused.

“I’m not letting go of you!” You declared sharply. “Not that easily.”

As he stared up at your tearful eyes, he knew that you meant it as more.

Unfortunately, it was the one thing he was terrified of.

He thought that you saw him as some shiny perfect thing, something good and worth having in your life. He thought that you were incapable of seeing the poison, the true fuck-up that he was. If you didn’t let go of him, sooner or later, just like everyone else in his life, you were going to get burned.

So Jason did what he had to do.

He began prying your fingers off his wrist, trying his best to keep you stable while he forced himself from your grip.

“No!” You shrieked. “No, no, no-”

You didn’t have much room to fight him about it without falling out of the window yourself.

You made a move to readjust, to get a tighter grip on him - and it was the one deadly move that caused him to slip out of your touch completely.

You were forced to watch on in chest clenching horror, blinking through heavy tears as he began hurtling toward the ground.

…

If not for Conner - a literal miracle - swooping in and saving Jason at the last second, then you would have spent the rest of your life regretting those moments, wondering what you could have done differently to save him.

When Jason finished taping down the bandages, making sure the wound was clean and secure, he laid his palm flat on top of it. It was a kind of ‘kissing it better’ that instantly spread warmth curling through your gut. It was a touch so incredibly tender - especially compared to the heated, aggressive groping you were used to from him - that it caused a whimper from the back of your throat.

You knew it was unlikely, but you hoped that he hadn’t heard it.

“All done.” He said quietly.

You instantly felt regret when he took his hand away and began tidying up the medical supplies. But you forced yourself to sit upright, now feeling only muscle soreness and a much duller pain coming from the area. You felt intensely thankful for his care as you pulled your shirt back down, righting your clothes back into place.

“You’re free to go now.” Jason told you, his voice still low, as though a single decibel would shatter the delicate peace between the two of you.

You felt your heart sink.

In an instant, you understood what it was - he was concerned about your physical wellbeing, but he didn’t actually want to have you around. Just like his reaction to you showing up at the hostage exchange - he didn’t want your presence there.

You heaved a sigh and got off the bed as Jason busied himself with gathering up the used gauze to throw it away. As you put your hand on the doorknob, you couldn’t quite bring yourself to leave.

It was something else.

It had to be something else.

Jason hadn’t let himself drop off a building in some desperate ploy just to get away from you. He had been trying to save you.

He was so utterly willing to give his life for yours.

And now he was trying to back down from that.

You turned and faced him, leaving the door closed. When he turned from ditching things in the wastebasket, he froze. He was entirely surprised that you were still there.

The two of you locked eyes, both staying still - like a predator and prey locked in a stalemate, wondering who would run first.

In this situation, you weren’t sure who was the prey.

You were both so vulnerable.

Jason thought it would be selfish to get caught up in all of this, to finally admit those dangerous feelings he had for you. When he cared for things, he usually ended up breaking them. Of course, it was never on purpose - he was an idiot. Everything he touched, he fucked up. He had made that more than evident with his last braindead plan, the outing to prove that he was worthy of being Robin. Something that had gotten you shot, probably could have gotten you killed.

If you stuck with him any longer, you probably would end up being killed. And he would never forgive himself for that.

He would be better off ripping himself from your hold, as much as it hurt. Giving you a dose of that heartbreak now so that you could get over him and go after better things.

As you stared at Jason, you could see all the pain boiling underneath his surface. You wondered what he was thinking, what the hell he was churning over in that intense brain of his - but you didn’t dare to ask.

You knew that he needed to be held right now - in every sense of the word. You knew that he needed to be cared for the way he had cared for your wound, pushing past the pain in order to heal. You wondered if he would lay down and bear it or if he would continue to fight you.

You were the one to bravely step forward. Though Jason was tempted to ask you to leave, that thing inside of him yearning to marinate in his isolation because he deserved it, he pushed it down. He let his hands naturally come to sit on the plush comfort of your waist as you put a gentle touch on both his shoulders, leaning into his body ever so slightly.

You laid your forehead on his cheek, right next to that ugly bruise that had been left on him, and he let out a contented sigh as he felt your warmth envelope him. For the first time since his feet had touched the ground, he felt calm. He felt safe.

You smoothed a hand across his shoulder, and raised your head, using your touch to gently tip his face toward yours. He quickly realized that your intention was to kiss him. And something ached in his heart - something painful and longing. He knew that it would not be needy and haste with the intention of pile-driving toward sex like your other kisses had been. He knew that it would be the metamorphosis of your relationship that he was not prepared to go through.

He nuzzled along your forehead, gently stopping you.

“Please don’t do this.” He murmured quietly into your skin.

He knew that it would break him.

He knew that this was the moment - like Gatsby reaching up toward the stars - this would be the moment that he was tied to you forever, damned by his love for you. Only, much different than Gatsby, he wasn’t destined for some grant fate if he didn’t have you. He was on a one way path to a messy death, and he was determined not to take you down with him.

Tears pricked the edges of his eyes at the thought.

You pulled back, just enough to properly look him in the eyes, and your own tears formed when you saw that pathetic puppy dog looking back at you.

“Why not?” You demanded, much sharper than you intended. You knew he was fragile and you didn’t want to upset him any further than he already was.

“You know why.” He replied, his voice barely scraping above a whisper as the emotion clutched at his throat.

Jason wanted to hold onto you forever, but he was also a realistic person. He expected that any minute now, you would rip away from his arms and charge out the door, entirely angry with him, and this would finally be over. You would finally be safe from him - safe from any nasty fate his life could conjure up for you.

You hated what he was asking of you - asking you not to care for him anymore. As if you could somehow switch it off. Impossible.

“I meant what I said.” You repeated yourself, still entirely firm in this conviction. “I’m not gonna let you go that easily.”

You leaned in, planting your lips on his in a light kiss. A pained sigh ripped through you when he didn’t make any moves to kiss you back.

“Jason, please.” You whimpered out desperately. “If you get to bandage my bullet wound, then I get to do this.”

Jason wanted to spell it all out for you, plain and dirty. He wanted to get angry, he wanted to scream. He wanted to rush along the inevitable. He wanted to tell you what a poison he was to the world, that he deserved to die and you deserved better things. But he had the utmost feeling that you wouldn’t listen.

“Please, stop pushing me away.” You whispered against his lips.

Instead, he listened to your plea. He let himself indulge in this selfish softness for once.

He reached up and grabbed your jaw, pulling you into a firmer kiss, declaring every ounce of passion and terror that he was feeling in those moments. You answered it all right back - digging your fingers into the shoulders of his shirt, letting out a hot huff against his cheek as you leaned into his body.

He would never be perfect - but he was yours.

...

Final note: yes, I used to be @/pinkchubbiebunnie. That is still my username on AO3, so if you saw this fic posted on there, it is my fic. Please do not accusing me of plagiarising fics if you see this, because this is my own fic. This is my new blog. Feel free to follow me if you’re interested in my fanfiction and thoughtful discussions of the media that I enjoy.

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whydoyoucare866

1 year ago

please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please

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whydoyoucare866

1 year ago

Another day another 9k read instead of studying

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whydoyoucare866

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