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#i do notttt like how this one came out but im lowkey struggling to write this week so. oh well 😔
sanguineterrain · 7 months
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Hiii, discovered your fics on AO3 and they’re very my jam! If you’re still taking requests, could I suggest something where Jason rescues you, an angsty hurt/comfort? Maybe they’re pining for each-other and maybe confront/confess their feelings, or are already together, up to you.
No worries if not 😊😊 Thanks for the good words ❤️🖤
Hey I know you! Thanks for leaving nice comments over yonder 🥰 Idk if I really delivered on this prompt but I hope you like it anyway lol 😅 I combined this prompt with another I received about Jason and the reader fighting before the reader is hurt/kidnapped.
jason todd x fem!reader. tw: creepy men, crime alley, injured reader, jason shoots people (🎶whatta mighty good man🎶)
****
"If you don't know who this is, you shouldn't be fucking calling. Leave a message after the beep or whatever."
Beeeep!
"Jay, it's me. Can we please talk? You can't ignore me forever. I want us to fix this. I—" You swallow hard. "I miss you."
You sigh, rubbing your forehead as you think of what to say. You've already left three unanswered messages. There's no more for you to say. You just want things to be fixed.
You want your best friend back.
"Okay. Call me when you can."
You hang up and pocket your phone.
The fight was stupid. Jason doesn't respond well to being pushed, but you pushed him anyway. You wanted to know where he disappeared to at night. You were sick of the secrets, of always feeling like you were three steps behind, left in the dark.
If you really cared about me, you would tell me where you go.
Jason had stilled, expression cold.
I don't owe you anything.
Your voice had turned wobbly then.
Jay, don't I mean anything to you? I want you to trust me, I want this to be a normal friendship!
He'd put on his jacket and collected the few things he left in your apartment.
You're right. You deserve normal.
You haven't spoken since. At first, you thought Jason left for a few hours to cool down. So you gave him space.
But then hours turned to days, and now it's been a full week and a half since you'd fought. Last night, you broke down and cried. This is it. You've lost him for good.
Part of you fears the reality is darker than him just leaving. You've long suspected that whatever Jason goes out to do is probably illegal since he's always out at night.
What if you're called down to the police station to identify a body?
All those things left unsaid. Jason will never know you love him.
Screw this. You're going to his apartment.
It's late. It's really late, and this is actually not the best idea to carry out at eight o'clock at night in Crime Alley. There's a reason Jason always insists on hanging out at your apartment or at a cafe.
A man whistles at you down the street. "Goin' somewhere, girlie?"
This was a bad idea. Jason might be the one who has to ID a body tonight.
You can't remember which of these apartments is his. But you can't call him. He can't know you're here, not yet.
"You shouldn't be here, lady!" a kid shouts at you from a fire escape. "He don't like new people on his turf!"
You don't take the time to figure out who the kid means. Crime Alley is known for, well, crime. The sooner you can locate Jason's apartment, the better.
A group of men light cigarettes down the road. You pause and turn around. In the process, you stumble over a garbage can.
That instantly draws their attention.
"Well, what have we here?" one jeers. "You lost, sweetie?"
You run.
You don't care if it makes you look afraid—you are afraid, and you're beyond caring. You shouldn't have come here.
You turn abruptly. You have no idea where you're going, but maybe if you act like you do, you'll throw them off. You take another turn, then another, and you look behind you to check if—
Wham!
You crash into a body. A muscled body, one that forces you backwards.
White, glowing eyes that smolder inside a red helmet meet your own.
Jason's never warned you about the Red Hood. He just tells you to stay away from the area altogether. You don't really need to be warned about Hood anyway. You know what he's about. You know you've probably just sealed your fate tonight.
"What the fuck?" he asks, modulated voice rough.
"I'm sorry," you babble. "Please don't hurt m—"
Gunshots ring out, and you realize you've just stumbled into an active gunfight. With Red Hood.
Fuck your luck.
The gunmen have spotted you, and they take great pleasure in using you as a distraction; they fire at you instead of Hood.
He shields you with his body, blocking the bullets. It works until a flash grenade is thrown, and you're separated from Hood, ears ringing. You hit the ground hard from the impact, scraping your hands and arms.
Someone's arm wraps around your neck, and you're suddenly dragged backward. You scream, scratching at the arm, and a fist thumps your head. You blink at the pain, too dazed to keep fighting.
"We had a deal, Hood!" your captor shouts, arm tightening around your neck. "Let us go or she dies!"
"Negation's over," Red Hood snarls, and shoots all four men.
You cry as the shot echoes too close to your face and for a moment, you fear you've been shot too. The now dead man slips off of you, collapsing in a heap on the ground.
Your ankle protests when you step on it. In the chaos of the fight, you hadn't realized you sprained it. You trip and fall on your butt, scrambling away from the pooling blood.
"What are you doing here?" Hood growls at you, stalking closer.
You start to cry, edging backward.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt your fight, please d-don't kill me—"
You press down hard on your wrist and that hurts more than your ankle. You cry harder at the pain, grabbing your wrist.
Red Hood gets closer, and you try to scramble away with one arm and one leg. He kneels down and holds your good arm in place so you can't move.
"I'm sorry!" you say again, tears thick on your lashes.
"Fuck," Hood says roughly, and unlocks his helmet.
Your eyes widen as he pulls it off.
"J—"
"I told you to never come to this area, and you come alone, in the fucking dark, without a weapon? What the hell is wrong with you?" Jason snarls.
"Please don't yell at me," you whisper, covering your face with your hands.
You're shaking, adrenaline turning your stomach. A moment later, you throw up.
"Shit," Jason says and puts a hand on your stomach to help you sit back up. "Shit, I'm an asshole. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell."
"I thought you died," you say, daring to look at him. "You weren't answering my calls, and you only go out at night. I thought..."
Jason immediately looks avalanched by guilt. He cradles you to his chest.
"Fuck. I'm sorry. I should've—I thought it would be better, leaving."
"I didn't want you to leave," you cry, arms curling around his neck. "I love you so much, Jay. I was so scared. Don't leave me again."
Jason's breath hitches. You freeze, suddenly sure you've screwed it all up.
"Jay—"
"Y'love me?" he asks, cupping your cheek.
You nod emphatically.
"Even though I'm..." He gestures to the helmet.
"I'm just happy you're alive," you say. "I missed you so much, Jason."
His arms tighten around you. "God, I missed you too, baby. I was going crazy not talking to you. I'm sorry I ignored you. Wasn't right of me. But don't ever do this again, okay? If I hadn't been here—"
He takes a shuddering breath and kisses your neck. You nod against his shoulder.
"I promise. Just don't shut me out again, please."
Jason's quiet for a moment. You can feel him thinking.
"This isn't gonna be normal," he says. "If-if we do this. This is part of me. Who I am."
"I don't care," you say. "I love you, Jay. Every part. Whatever that entails."
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