Hey, I love your writing, your Jason fics are always so tender and authentic
I was wondering if you would write something where Reader is pulled aside by someone and asked whether they're in danger (since Jason is pretty big and intimidating) and later they laugh it off because they find it absurd but it gets to Jason and perhaps brings some insecurities to the surface
this is actually devastating!!! thank you for requesting 🤌
jason todd x gn!reader. tw: wrongly assumed abuse and jason being gutted at the idea, hurt/comfort, reassurance, estab relationship.
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"Chocolate is obviously superior."
Jason sighs, flopping against the diner booth dramatically. "What a shame to be so wrong. Vanilla stays on top."
"Vanilla is boring as hell, Jay," you say, throwing your napkin at him. He catches it. Of course. "On the milkshake hierarchy, vanilla is barely a step above whatever monstrosity a peppermint bark shake is."
"Buddy, I happen to like drinking toothpaste." He points a finger at you. "And that's my God-given right."
"It's an abomination is what it is." You take a long, pointed sip of your shake. "Mm, the taste of good choices."
Jason traps both of your legs between his under the table. You gasp and try to wiggle free, but his strength is merciless.
"If it's an abomination, why is it on the menu?" he asks, grinning as you squirm.
"Well, what else are they meant to serve you freaks?"
Jason gently tugs you forward by your legs. He leans over the table. You meet him halfway.
"This freak appreciates the thought," he says and kisses you.
He tastes like vanilla shake. It's not what you'd order, but you really don't mind kissing it off of Jason's mouth. Funny how that works.
He pulls away and releases your legs, then scoots out of the booth.
"Gonna take care of business. Don't drink my incredibly irresistible shake."
"I'll certainly try," you say, looking up at him with what are undoubtedly giant heart eyes.
Jason disappears to the restrooms. You drink your shake and focus on trying to craft the straw wrapper into a snake.
You're close to shaping it when a woman comes up to your table. You've never seen her in your life.
"Uh, hi," you say. "Can I help you?"
She glances around the diner before leaning down.
"Hey. Look, if you're... in need of someplace safe, there's a great shelter downtown."
Your brows rise. "I'm sorry?"
"I was in your shoes once too," she says, eyes wide. "You don't have to rely on a guy to get you on your feet. Especially someone like him."
You shake your head slowly. "I... what? I don't understand. The man I'm with, he's my boyfriend."
She looks skeptical. You turn to face her fully, because now you're properly bewildered.
"Uh, I appreciate that you're looking out for people, and I know stuff you're referring to is everywhere in Gotham. But I promise I'm okay."
"I know physical intimidation is scary—"
"Whoa." You hold up a hand. "Just because he's a big guy doesn't mean he's throwing me around. He's the gentlest man you'll ever meet. I love him and he loves me. No one is in danger."
The woman's mouth pinches. You don't even have it in you to be upset. You've never once felt afraid of Jason. But you forget how he looks to others, how he's twice or triple most people's size and covered in scars.
"Here's the number to the shelter," she says, slipping the paper under the salt shaker. "In case you change your mind."
She hurries out the door before you can respond. You stare at the card, then shrug. You suppose, if anything, you're happy there are still good Samaritans in Gotham.
Presently, Jason returns. He purposely makes his footsteps heard because of the countless times you've lectured him about scaring the shit out of you due to his habit of going stealth mode without realizing.
"Hello, dearest," he says. "I've returned from war."
"My hero. Did you wash your hands in battle?"
Jason slides into the booth and sticks his hand in your face. "Smell 'em and rejoice, baby."
You take his hand and give it a deep sniff. It indeed smells like soap. Not that you ever doubted your boyfriend's handwashing capabilities.
"Smells like... wrong opinions about milkshakes," you say, then kiss his palm.
He rolls his eyes. "I can see my absence has taught you nothing. Unfortunate."
"I'm stubborn. I'm sure you of all people can understand that," you say, smiling.
"Mm. Y'lucky you're cute."
Your food arrives, the waitress cheerily informing you that she hopes you enjoy your meal.
"I think she's the happiest person in Gotham," Jason says, shaking the ketchup bottle.
You take a fry from his plate. "Probably a Metropolis native."
"Y'know my fries are the exact same as yours, right?"
"Nope," you say. "Yours have special boyfriend cooties on them. Adds flavor."
"You're gross," Jason says, quite lovingly.
You make a heart with your hands. He returns it, then takes a bite of his burger.
You don't even register it when Jason grabs the salt shaker. You're zeroed in on your lunch and don't look up until he speaks.
"What's this?"
Jason's holding the shelter hotline card.
"Oh! Some lady came over and gave that to me."
"Gave it to you?"
You should clock Jason's tone and the way he's stopped eating completely. But the experience was so odd that you can't fathom Jason thinking it as anything but a mistake.
"Yeah. For some reason, she thought I was here drinking a milkshake with you against my will. Probably 'cause it's Gotham, and you're my BBB: big beefcake boyfriend. Little does she know, I'm the heavyweight boxing champion of Park Row."
You swirl your fries in Jason's ketchup. He doesn't even blink. Usually, he'd give you a raised eyebrow and pretend he's cross.
Jason's still staring at the card. You catch his legs with yours. He doesn't look up.
"Jay?" you ask, smile fading. You drop your legs. "Hey. Y'good?"
"Hm? Oh. Sorry, baby." He puts the card aside and smiles at you, quick and strained.
"Everything okay?" you ask.
"Yeah. Uh, fine."
"Jason." You lean over and grab his hand. "What's wrong?"
He swallows. You wait, the noise of the diner fading. All that matters is whatever's causing his absolutely heartbreaking expression.
"How could she think I'm hurting you?" Jason whispers, finally looking at you. "How could—I would never hurt you."
"Oh, Jay. Honey, that's why I hardly entertained her. It was so silly to think about. I was so puzzled at first that I couldn't even decipher what she meant."
"But what if... y'know, maybe she sensed something about me. Sensed violence. I get it. I'd–I'd be scared of me if I were a regular person."
"Jason, sweetie, no. No, no, no. I think that woman experienced some hard things in her life, and that caused her to see something that wasn't there. She had good intentions, but she was absolutely wrong. I know you have a past, but I've never felt unsafe with you. Never. I could never be afraid of you."
Jason gnaws on the inside of his cheek. You get up and slide in next to him, crowding him against the wall. You curl against his arm.
"You love me so well, I forget that most people see a monster when I walk down the street," he says.
You squeeze your eyes closed. Pins in your heart.
"You're not a monster, Jay. You're good. I know it. Your family knows it. You're a protector."
He takes a deep breath. "If–if you ever felt afraid of me, ever, and you wanted me to stay away, then you tell me so, and I'd leave you alone. No questions asked."
"Jason," you whisper. You wrap your arm around his neck and pull him close. The vinyl squeaks as you shift. "Jay, I love you. I don't want you to leave me alone."
"But if—"
"No. Please listen to me. I know you'd never hurt or frighten me. Sometimes, people are wrong. She was wrong about you. She was kind but wrong."
You sit like that for a bit, feeling each other breathe. Jason's hand grazes yours. You grab it, lacing your fingers together.
"I love you too," he says quietly. "Never felt anything but love for you."
You smile and steal another fry off his plate. He snorts.
"I know." You lean against his shoulder. "Never doubted it."
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