#EVILLL JASONNNN ( but not really don't be deceived )

[aangelinakii]

DREADFUL WINGS.

— why won't he just drop you?

summary : ever since jason todd had gone rogue, your affiliate, batman, hired you to go undercover into his hidden mob ring to find out what he's planning for gotham. you need to seduce him, but when he actually falls, you decide you want out.

not proofread !

note : this fic contains a female reader, but almost all of my other works are gender neutral, so check out those if that's what you're looking for, or send in a request so i can cater closer to what you'd like !!

second much more casual note : i kind of got writers block like halfway through this so i kind of feel like it declined in quality throughout, so soz about that guysssss :P

third note i thought of when i almost finished writing : thiz turned iut to be a crack fic LOL enjoy

you'd been an associate of the batman ever since he'd seen you out on the field; it had been one versus almost eleven, and you'd taken each one down wirh skill, even when two or more tried to tag-team. it was impressive, and so he'd taken you in as a trainee of sorts; not enough to be family, but enough to have earned their respect.

it had been brought to both you and the bat's attention that his gone-rogue son, jason todd, had been spotted after months.

video and photo evidence showed him engaging in suspicious activity with some of gotham's most dangerous cartel leaders, and it didn't appear that he was taking order from them. no, it appeared that he was the one making the orders.

gone for ten months, and jason'd already made his way up the ranks of the crime underworld. he needed to be stopped, but there was no way he would listen to bruce wayne. even in disguise, he knew him too well. so bruce needed you.

going into it, you knew it would be a long-term job. you wouldn't be able to contact friends or family for as long as it took to create a bond with the leader, jason, and to get him to reveal information to you about his plans.

then you would be out and gone far.

for the job, you'd dyed and cut your hair, changed your makeup and clothing style completely, going from relaxed, casual clothes, to professional attire, and darker makeup. you were completely unrecognisable, and excited to go back to normal.

who knew what a real mobster was supposed to look like? the only ones you'd busted had half their face torn off, or wore a black mask.

when you first started, completely a new person, you began to frequent a bar jason was said to favour, and sometimes made deals in the back of. bruce had given you some cash ("some" being an understatement) to spend whilst under this guise, so none of your transactions went to your personal bank account, and you'd begun using a fair sum of it to pay for a drink to nurse each evening for a week.

on the final friday, you were beginning to grow bored. you were sitting in a bar on the other end of town to your apartment – the dodgy side – without a person to talk to, and those who did, were drunk men with missing teeth who tried to buy you a drink.

until the stool beside you squealed against the floor as it was pulled out. from the corner of your eye, you glanced over at them, clutching your whiskey on the rocks closer to you.

black hair, single white streak at the front, cross-shaped scar along his cheekbone. big hands, knuckles bruised, scared forearms on display beneath a rolled-up white button-up. this had to be your guy. there was no way it couldn't be.

when he ordered his drink, a deep-coloured scotch, he pressed a few bills on the counter. "keep the change," he gravelled as the barkeep gave a hum at the extra money.

no men in this area of gotham would let their change be kept behind the bar; each of them would never every bit of those coins to buy even more drinks, or drugs, or whatever they find on the side of the streets here.

this was a man who was confident in the dollars he owned. someone who pressed k in return for money. and now you just had to get in.

lifting your glass to your lips, you turned to him quietly, a glint in your eye. noting your shift, he looked up at you, still nursing his stout glass.

"you doin' all right tonight?" he offered coolly, voice a deep concoction of gotham street accent.

a hummed laugh brushed past your lips, curling them into a soft smile. "you could say that," you replied, insinuating a flirt.

and that was the beginning of it. slowly, after then, you – well, the slightly fabricated version of you – and jason began to form a relationship. at first, it was as simple as coincidentally meeting each other back at that bar, but then him taking you out every few nights.

he questioned you a few times what you did for a day job, so you opted for getting employed at a bookshop in the nicer end of town. when you asked him about his work, he was incredibly vague.

after a few months of meeting up at a restaurant or a bar, or wherever, and learning more about each other – although you'd had to revise your elaborate, false backstory, and you knew he was not telling the whole truth about his – jason finally asked you to stay round his apartment.

it was nerve-wracking, the entire idea of it. you'd faced worse things than this; actually, one time the penguin had shot you in the back, and that was quite bad. surely something like this shouldn't be so scary. for all you knew, you weren't even a real person; you were entirely made-up in this form of yourself. but he didn't know that.

as you showed up on his doorstep, looking nervously up and down the corridor at the other run-down apartments, you gave a light knock on the door, half hoping he wouldn't be home.

on the other hand, jason knew he shouldn't have gotten so attached. for one, it could get you in danger. knowing his line of work, having absolutely any personal connections could give any rivals the upper hand against him. secondly, this whole thing went against his own moral code; keeping himself safe.

he thought he knew better, not adoring the flow of your hair, the quirk of your lip when he said something in an attempt to be funny, the way you didn't let things get to his head, like your down-played aforementioned reaction to his jokes.

he thought, after everything he had experienced leading up to now, that his heart would be heavier chained-up. but you'd managed to unlock it.

tonight, he was going to make it official, despite everything else telling him not to.

when he pulled the door open, you immediately tried to thaw the frigidness of your nerves, and force a smile as genuine as you could. if this was what you had to do in order to get bruce his information, then surely you would. as long as he paid you when you get back.

"hey, i'm glad you made it," he smiled, gravelly voice the most genuine you'd ever heard it, and he pulled you in with one muscular arm into a hug, whilst his other hand closed the door behind you.

"yeah, of course," you chuckled, trying to cloak your unease with a smile as you returned the half-hug. "i wouldn't miss it for the world."

jason pulled away, and stopped for a moment to size you up with a smile. his broad frame had been fitted with a black t-shirt, which hugged him in all the right places. "i made dinner," he hummed as he turned to walk you into his apartment, and, surely, the scent of rich bolognese filled your senses.

his apartment was quaint, if not slightly messy, but you could tell jason'd made at least a little effort to clean it up a bit. but a messy guy is always messy, which you'd learned in a previous almost-relationship.

as the two of you reached his small dining table, he pulled your chair out for you before walking around to sit opposite you. the aromatic plates of spaghetti bolognese had already been laid out before each chair. the effort he'd gone to tonight was sweet... but this wasn't what you wanted.

nerves kicked in.

"this isn't my natural hair colour, you know," you blurted out, fingers curling tightly around the stem of the fork beside your plate. eyes wide, you stared on at jason opposite you, who returned the look with a bemused glint in his eye.

he gave a shrug, twirling his fork in his spaghetti, which wove around the prongs like thread in a spindle. "okay?" he hummed, slight chuckle in his tone. "what does that have to do with dinner?"

perhaps if you just tried to be as off-putting as possible, he would ask you to leave.

a few beats passed, and you lifted your fork into the food with a shake of your head. "dunno, just in case that wasn't something you'd be into."

"doesn't matter," he spoke, food half-full of bolognese.

now, what was something that would put off a literal mob boss? right!

"you know, i swear, too. quite a lot," you piped up again after a moment, shovelling some spaghetti into your mouth. damn, that man could cook. "and i know some guys find that unattractive."

some sort of snort came from the man across the table as he began to twirl a new mountain of spaghetti, and he looked up at you with a bemused glint in his eye. "you do realise i, myself have the mouth of a sailor? that doesn't matter to me."

there had to be something that ticked him off.

a few more beats passed, and you'd already eaten half your plate, the nerves catching up to you quickly.

after swallowing your mouthful, you placed your fork back down against the rim of the plate, and looked back over at jason. "i haven't told you about my past," you abruptly spoke. "i'm not sure you would want me to come back here if i ever told you."

with this, jason gave a deep breath, and put down his fork. with a sigh, he leaned back in his chair to assess you, green eyes piercing and scrutinising.

"there's a lot i haven't told you, either," he breathed after a moment, leaning forward, resting his elbows on the tabletop. "a lot i've experienced in my life that i'm not proud of, that i wish could have gone... differently. but that doesn't matter to me. whatever happened in your past doesn't change who you are to me now."

for god's sake, why wouldn't he just kick you out of his apartment? each moment you stayed seated at his dinner table, the more you itched to leave, ached to blurt out your true intention.

barely a second had passed when a switch had flipped inside of you entirely, and suddenly you had tears streaming down your face. (that would be another $50 for the hysterics, bruce.) immediately, jason's expression dropped, one of worry and confusion. "what's wrong?"

your face fell into your hands, hiding the crocodile tears spilling from your eyes. "i can't give you children!" you wailed, uttering the first thing you could think of.

jaw cranked open, eyebrows creased, jason gingerly reached out to brush his fingers over your wrist. "i– where did children ever come into the equation? we're just having dinner. i don't care about children right now. not at all!"

and, almost as quickly as they came, your hysterics had halted, and you looked up from your hands, mascara inevitably smeared beneath your eyes. "okay," you stated. "i'll cut the shit."

with one swift movement, you stood to your feet, the chair you'd been sitting on squeaking against the floor. jason pulled away, sitting back in his own chair, eyes peering at you expectantly and curiously.

"i know why you asked me round tonight."

jason nodded slowly. "isn't it obvious?" he quipped, although his tone had grown wary.

"but i can't date you, jason," you stated, fists clenching by your sides. "because i'm not the person you think i am. really. everything i said is untrue, apart from the hair."

as he peered at you, jason's eyes narrowed, as if piecing everything together in his mind.

"i'm here to find out information about your drug ring, which i know all about. i knew about it from the start, from the first moment i saw you, and even before. i just needed to wait for you to trust me."

his mouth had fallen slightly ajar, eyebrows furrowing as he stared on at you. after a moment, the cogs turning in his head, his mouth closed, and he swallowed the dryness away before speaking. "well..." he sighed. "nobody's perfect."