Batboys x Reader

Say Amen Part 2 (Jason Todd x Reader)

Hi! Alrighty, so this was requested by @catskyle and @Annabeth_Chase008 and uses no prompts. PunkMewtwo also helped out with the creation of the story plot. So thanks, guys! Sorry, this is a little late! I hope this ok! :)

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(Y/N) Pov

I am more aware of my cracking headache than the layer of dehydrated saliva that covers my cracked lips. Once I'm on my feet the room sways almost causing me to lose my balance as I reach out for the wall near me. My hand slips along the smooth wall, and I sprawl onto the carpet with a crashing thump. The room swirls before my eyes becoming stationary once more as my fingers curl around the bedstead to pull myself back to my feet. This feeling means I had some fun the night before but somehow some of it isn't there in my memory. I smack my lips and my stomach turns in an unfriendly way. I stumble to the corner of the room, and with each step, my stomach tightens and aches all the more. I keep swallowing, and my throat keeps clenching, but no matter what I can't stop the warm feeling rising through my chest. Then I can taste it at the back of my mouth. I buckle over, landing on the cool tiles beneath me. It hurts to move. It is like the flu only self-inflicted, which means I'd get no sympathy from anyone. 

I remember the cracking sidewalks and watery moonlight that struggled past the clouds. We had made several loops of Jason's block, on the first few circuits our conversation had been shy mumbles, almost becoming familiar and then each of us backing away. Another few circuits and we knew more about one another than the many members of our own families, by that time our fingers were entwined in a loose grip. On the final loop around Jason had pulled me close into a kiss. The alcohol could have been clouding my judgement but God it was good. Or something like that...I don't remember much after my sixth drink.

I shiver violently, now that my stomach has stopped lurching I merely feel bruised inside. I close my eyes and take a deep breath before continuing my journey to the kitchen. My movements immediately stop as I stare around the large apartment, this isn't where I live, this isn't my apartment. Where the hell am I? Calling the room I stand in a dining-room is somewhat misleading. It looks like a cyclone has torn through the room, numerous metal items strewn around the room as if someone is attempting to build something.

The only clues that the uber-chaos has been human-made is the drunken bottles of beer and empty pizza boxes littered about the floor. Over the two kitchen chairs lay a robe that is something like a long-sleeved black dress with black buttons from the neck down. Yet somehow I already know it's meant for a man, the black of the robe looks sharp and crisp contrasted with the white of the dog-collar which is draped on top of the robe. A wide black tasselled sash seems to have been dropped onto the floor near the chair.

A cheap IKEA table stands in the middle of the room, it looks like it will break if you lean on it, although the bag which had been placed on top of it seems to prove me wrong. The bag show's the strain of what it holds inside. Already the stitching is stretched to the point where it shows in an ugly fashion. The thick yarn has pulled holes in the canvas and the handles show tearing on one side. I prepare myself for the contents knowing that whatever is inside is the bag is heavy and most likely cannot be trusted to hold. The bag zips open with ease, I notice a man's shirt and denim jeans had been shoved inside. I bite the inside of my cheek as I move the clothing items, curious to see the rest of the contents. My hand brushes against something cool, sending a shiver up my spine. At first, the metal is cold in my hands, icy perhaps, yet after a few minutes with my hand wrapped around it, the metal is ambient, feeling less like a tool of death.