Batboys x Reader

Stitches Part 2 (Jason Todd x Reader)

Hello readers! Once again I want to thank you all for the positive feedback and support, it means so much to me! I'm going to go back to my old updating schedule and just update around once or twice a week. Quite a few people wanted to see a second part to this story so here you go!! Hope you enjoy!

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(Y/N) Pov

I can't see the dance floor, it's wall to wall people dancing to the club music. There's no room for any more but somehow when I decide to hit the floor space magically comes. The music is all nineteen nineties but everyone is dancing like it's jive, twisting, turning, holding hands as they change sides. I'm all grins, I probably look like an idiot and I honestly don't care. I feel the part of me that's really me come out to play, to feel the vibe of the music and let my body go free. One moment, one brilliant feeling of togetherness suspended in time. In ten years I'll still remember tonight, I love the quiet life but I relish the crazy fun times. Music, good times and dance. I move in my dress like my hips are made to sway, the sequins catching the disco ball light that twirls above - launching every shade of the rainbow into the darkness.

The harsh scent of alcohol can be smelt on me. I know it, and so does everyone one else that passes me. They can see me struggling to keep my balance, and I know I'm struggling to keep it. It's like some sort of outer body experience. My legs don't work as I tell them. Neither do my hands. Or my fingers. Somewhere, deep inside I know my brain is sending signals telling me what to do. Whether or not my body is listening is a different story. I try to walk down the street, but my legs are telling me otherwise. They are swaying – left and right. No matter how many steps I take, I'm no closer to where I want to be. My drunken giggles echo down the alleyway, sounding childish and carefree. 

A man is resting against the exit of the alley in front of me, with a face of utter nonchalance, as if he were merely waiting for a bus on a spring day. He isn't slumped at all, his body is clearly too muscular for that, yet it is just as relaxed as his face. He's almost smiling - smiling as if something good were about to happen. As I approach the man my body twirls and jerks causing me to begin to fall. The man shoots his arms out, catching me with a grunt while I continue to giggle.

"How much have you had to drink, girl?" He asks.

"I lost count after like five..." I slur.

I feel a tiredness in my chest, in how I breathe and my thoughts drag by in slow motion, I sink into the man's chest and close my eyes, drifting into a deep sleep. The only thing that doesn't remind me of the man I loved then lost.

Jason Pov

The darkness of Gotham's night brings the primal nature to the fore, a heady trance for the men who crave dominance and power. They stalk among the thrill seekers, the party goers, faces set to an underscored snarl. In this poor light, the roof-tops spread in every direction like great grey serpents with rectangular scales. Only the red brick chimneys ruin the illusion, but in this light, they are just as monochromatic as everything else, the slate, the swirling smog, the streets that were never deserted, the unfriendly sky with its dense cloud robbing me of the sunrise. The streets are curved as if laid down on a whim a few centuries ago before anyone had conceived of a grid pattern idea. I lean back against the chimney, reaching for chocolate wedged in my pocket. I have walked these streets my whole life, I know them just the same as if they are etched in my head with a sharp knife, scored in deep like some strange work of art that Damian created. These are the streets I grew up on and for the most part, I'm calm here, at home, on the down low with a steady heartbeat. Not tonight though. Tonight my heart wants out of my chest. It wants to beat free of its cage. It pounds like it's going to crack a rib. My senses are on high alert. Every colour is brighter, every noise louder, every stranger a cause to make my heart beat more fiercely still. But, why?

I watch as two men meet in the alleyway next to where I'm stationed. One of the men stubs his cigarette out on the cold cement. He raises his head to gaze the sky, watching for people like me. I edge away from the ledge as the man's eyes sweep over the side where I hide. Another man joins them, holding what looks like a woman's body in his arms. The two other men slap him on the back as a way of a twisted congratulations. I clench my fists and I jump from my position, landing in the shadows without a sound. 

"People like you are the reason for giving guys like me a bad name," I announce.

Men like these will never admit their fear of people like Bruce. But me, I know that all I have to do is look at them and they will shit themselves. The men in front of me jump and look around for my location. My eyes narrow on the girl in the man's arms, I need to make sure she isn't hurt.

"Put the girl down and I won't shoot you where it will hurt the most." I declare.

I grasp onto my gun and point it at the scum. It only takes five seconds for the man holding the girl to place her on the ground and joining his buddies in their escape. I place my gun back where it belongs before helping the girl. At first glance, I don't recognise her but the longer I look at her, I realise it's (N/N). Her (H/C) hair lays on her shoulders like a waterfall flowing mildly. The breeze blows through her curls, straightening them into waves that whipped about as I pick her up. 

(Y/N) Pov

Slowly and reluctantly, I uncover my face. I blink, close my eyes, and blink again. Streaks of sunlight penetrate the window and blind me. I sit up, drag my feet off the bed, and rub my knuckles onto my eyes. I stretch my arms above my head and yawn. That's when I realise I'm not at home. The aching in my skull ebbs and flows like a cold tide. I understand at once why they call it a hangover, for it feels as if the blackest of clouds are over my head with no intention of clearing until late afternoon. The scent of bacon and eggs wafts through the air causing my mouth to water.

I sneak through the apartment, looking through the source of the smell. I find a tall man in the kitchen, his back turned towards me as well. He turns around at the sound of my footsteps. I suck in a sharp breath as his shirtless torso is exposed to me. Gawking doesn't quite describe my state. I am shocked, stunned, flabbergasted, amazed, wonderstruck, mesmerized by who stands before me. Jason Fucking Todd, the man who broke my heart. His body is drool-worthy. He has a chiselled chest and the skin on it was glowing healthily. His abdominals are sculptured to perfection as his six-packs pop, instantly giving off the impression that he came out of a Calvin Klein shoot. I won't even forget about his arms for years. His biceps are the size of my head yet lean and his triceps looked like diamonds - really rare ones, indeed - and completing his masterpiece of a bodice, his shoulders, round and protruding, give his whole look a new flavour.

"What the fuck?!" I exclaim.

"Shit, let me explain!" He says.

"You have five seconds," I reply.

"I was out with some friends the other night and found you passed out on the street. I wanted to make sure you were safe." He explains.

"So, why not take me home?" I question.

"As I said before sweetheart, I wanted to make sure you were safe." He says.

"I appreciate your concern for my wellbeing but you've already done enough. Like, breaking my heart." I spit.

"I'm sorry (Y/N)." He mumbles.

"Sorry is only a word asshole. It doesn't mean shit in the long run." I cry out.

I collect my things and immediately leave, tears slowly sliding down my cheeks. He said he loved me and I took him for his word. He said I was his soul mate and over the years he had become part of the bedrock of my personality. Then that one sunny day, under a cloudless sky, he announced he was in love with someone else. It would have been kinder to kill me. Now I am this person filled with a bitterness I can't control. The girl he had met years ago under that apple blossom tree, the one with the big eyes and the bigger heart is now consumed by a hatred she never knew could take root.