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shattersstar · 1 year

Text

facing the gun.

pairing: cowboy!jason todd x reader

series summary: the sheriff of the mining town your farmhouse sat outside of, had never done a thing to help you, and when he went missing, well you didn’t bat an eye. the town grappled with the loss and change while a stranger approached you for work, a black hat wearing rider on a pale horse, bringing violence and life to your lonely home.

warnings: lil angst, violence/death mention, jason n reader don’t actually meet in this one (which i feel like i should disclaim)

a/n: ahh ive wanted to write this for a while and im so nervous about starting a series because i dont have the brain for them but!! here’s hoping!! though this is just a prologue i’m hoping to have the first part out shortly <3 enjoy & feedback is always appreciated ! yeehaww

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prologue. — a stranger shows up in town after a widow leaves, and a quiet farmhouse encounters them both.

It had just been over two months, the mining town starting to come to terms with the fact the sheriff was long gone. Dead or alive didn’t matter—just gone. You could see it in his wife’s eyes, glassy and cold. She moved around town like a ghost, reality setting in and eyes all watching her. It was no surprise she left in the middle of the night, her children loaded into a wagon with her husband’s rifle to her right. You had been the only one to see her leave, sitting on your porch and keeping watch over your land.

She slowed her wagon once her gaze caught the light from your lantern. You squinted, trying discern their faces when you could only see three silhouettes against the deep blue night sky. She stopped at the mouth of your property, before carefully turning down the modest dirt path. It was lined with fenced in cattle on the left and an empty grass field to the right. Your brows pulled together as you watched the wagon move slow and carefully towards you. She stopped short of your lantern's reach, and got off her horse. You knew she could see the gun strewn across your lap, so you weren’t exactly worried.

You were curious if anything.

“I never did believe my husband when he told me you sat out here like this.” She said, the light illuminating her sad face.

“Had to see it for yourself?” You asked, with a raised brow.

“Might as well, girls wanted to know too.” You let out a breathy chuckle at that.

“Pardon me ma’am, but I must say I’m glad to know the sheriff did talk about me, even if he did nothing to help.” Her face didn’t change, no anger for the slandering of her gone husband.

“He used to be a good man. And I’m sorry he didn’t do more for you.” She sighed, sending you a wavering smile before turning back into the darkness.

“Be seeing you.” You called, with a wave of the hand, but she didn’t respond. She stood in front of her horse for a minute before mounting and staring at you through the darkness.

“If he…if he comes back, tell him I’m going east—to my family.”

And then you watched as they were once again into silhouettes in the distance, turning away from the only life they had known and disappearing into the wide world.

You sat outside till the sky started to lighten, an ocean blue instead of the drowning darkness it was hours before. You pushed yourself up, doing a lap of your wraparound porch before heading to bed. Exhaustion had already been pulling at the corners of your mind, and as you got into your bed the interaction with the sheriff’s wife repeated in your head. You dreamt of the moment on an endless loop—her sad eyes staring widely through you before the sound of her broken voice echoed and bled into that of her horse riding away and dragging the old wagon with it. It filled your ears till the point you woke up a few hours later with a jolt, the distant sound of horse shoes clopping hanging in your mind.

You fell back asleep almost instantly after your body calmed down, unaware of the lone rider who had just passed your farm, dawning a wide brimmed black hat and old bandana stained red and something violent. He was the devil who rode a pale horse accordingly, the white streak in the rider’s blacker than night hair opposed the dark grey markings against the white of his mare's forehead.

The pair slunk into the mining town as the sun started to warm the sky, exhaustion tumbling over him as his grip loosened around the reins. His fingers and wrists ached, joints overstressed and burning. He had been riding for a lifetime, just trying to get his furthest away from Gotham, from the life he had made and burned to the ground in the growing city. His only memories stuffed into his pack, and the horse that had been gifted to him by a man who was a father to a boy long dead.

“Put up a tombstone that reads Jason Peter Todd because he is dead from this moment on. To you and Gotham. I will never be back here, not as anyone you know at least old man.”

Jason thought of those words as he passed a farmhouse, sprawling fences with a barn in the distance. He could see a cat walking along one of the gates, keeping an eye over the cows it seemed. He clicked his tongue when he realized his horse had come to a stop at his staring. She picked up her pace again, trotting into the town that had started to awaken. Whispers filled the streets before he showed up, no one even seeming to care for the stranger trudging into the small inn and the weary horse lapping up water from the trough outside. Jason kept his hat on, but pulled his bandana off his face as he stepped inside. It was dark, one candle by the front illuminating the man working and the lone patron eating breakfast.

The keeper seemed to startle at the sight of Jason, who laughed to himself as he approached. “Don’t see many customers this early, sir.” The innkeeper gruffed, earning a hum in acknowledgement. “Not too many passing through these days either.” He added, as Jason set down a handful of coins.

“Don’t need a room for the night, just a few hours and a meal.” He explained, earning a weary glance from the man.

“Were not tha—“

“Kind of establishment, I know. I’ll be leaving this evening.” Jason didn’t add more, holding the man’s gaze. He had just said business was slow, refusing him would be idiotic.

“Get out.” The man apparently was an idiot, and it made Jason scoff. If only this man knew who he had just refused—no. Jason pushed his anger aside, snatching up his coins before he turned on his heels. He wasn’t going to haggle with a stupid man, and arguing only made men stupider. He tied his bandana back around his face as he reached the door, stopping with his hand on the handle.

“Any work nearby?” He asked no one in particular, earning a scoff from the innkeeper before he was interrupted by the man eating his breakfast.

“Nowhere in town stranger, see the mines dried up sometime ago I hear. Some settlements deeper in the valley got work, railroad too, but that’s down West.” He explained between bites.

“Rotten work too.” He replied, earning a chuckle and nod from the bearded stranger, who finally met Jason’s gaze. His eyes were tired, that glassy blue grey colour that seemed to see beyond time.

“Ain’t that the God’s truth stranger!” He all, but hollered, suddenly livelier—younger than he looked moments ago. “Rotten is exactly what that work was—worst time of my life on the tracks.”

“You’ve had your chat, now get going!” The innkeeper interjected suddenly, gearing up to shout more when the bearded stranger slammed his hand on the wooden tabletop.

“Aye—cut it out. You were stupid enough to deny this mans coin for a room, let him buy a meal and chat with me. I like him and Lord knows you need the money.” Jason couldn’t stop the grin pulling at the corner of his lips as the innkeeper stammered for a response.

“F-fine, but you’re both—“

“Getting out after this, we know. Now come take a seat stranger.” The man gestured to the seat across from him. Jason glanced sideways at the innkeeper who seemed scared more than anything. It made his smile fall as he joined the older stranger, taking off his black hat and placing it on the empty seat next to him. The worker vanished somewhere in the back while the two men sat in silence. Until, “Aren’t you—huack—“ He choked before continuing “gon’ tell me your name boy?”

“Call me boy again—“

“Hey, hey. Stranger is it than.” The older man relented, coughing a few times into his shoulder before taking a swig of whatever swirled around his stained mug. “So you’re looking for work?”

“Aye.”

“You picked the wrong stretch of land bo…stranger, its dry and dead out here.”

“How ‘bout that farmhouse, the one few miles outside the town.”

The man laughed, the innkeeper who placed a bowl of what Jason assumed was porridge joined in, both men nearly going blue with their wheezy chuckles. “You would be a fool to take work there, it's where the mothers send their sons for farmhand training or a disciplining.” The innkeeper explained before wandering back to his post.

Jason eyed the man sitting across from him, prompting details with his silent gaze. “Used to be run by a family, all, but one dead and gone. And lemme tell you, the one left is a real son of a bitch.”

“Probably ran the old sheriff outta town—“ The keepers voice piped in from behind Jason.

“Heard they beat the crap outta some miner a year back—“

“They got a temper like no other—“

“Most of the town steers clear unless it’s for business—“

“Damn hard worker though.”

Jason took in the men’s information, downing his food in a handful of spoonfuls before tossing a few coins onto the tabletop. It was more than the innkeeper deserved, but information was always worth paying for.

“Good day stranger.” The old man called from where he sat. Jason slipped his hat back on, about to pull his bandana over his face when the shimmer of the star tucked away under the old man’s coat caught his eye. It was a brief glimpse, but Jason could see the start of the word SHERIFF curved along the bottom of the man’s badge.

It made Jason chuckle, eyes dragging from the badge to the man’s face noticeably so. He grinned as he pushed the door open to venture to this seemingly infamous farmhouse, “And good day to you…deputy.”

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artwork cred: mark maggiori

#literally all the other parts will b jason n the reader interacting i promise yall #just gotta set the scene 😌🤠#jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #red hood x reader #red hood imagine #dc x reader #dc imagine #writing #facing the gun

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