|The D.C Collection | Imagines, One-Shots, Preferences, and More |

Cliches of Classic Literature | Jason Todd x Reader

Description: Clutched in his hammer-like hands, his knuckles rooted beneath his fingers like steel bolts, was your book.

Words: 1846 (this is short for me g od )

Notes: Hey! So here's the long-awaited Jason fic. I promised one, and as I didn't want to leave you guys hanging, I kinda... rushed. I really hope you like it! There is some implied smut here, but nothing explicitly said or done. =DDD

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Friends with benefits relationship in which Jason gets attached and catches feelings before the reader. Kind of clingy, needy Jason?

Hurry, hurry, hurry, you mentally encouraged yourself, feet pulling you into a half-sprint as you left the coffee shop. If I don't get to the library first, then someone's getting the book I need—and then there's no way I'm passing that test.

Today was one of those days in Gotham. The wind caught in your hair, carrying the whispers of gossip from the unusually large flock of people coating the streets. The Joker had threatened to poison the water supply a few days earlier to celebrate his first day in Gotham City. The thing was that Bats was gone, leaving behind his children and their associates to care for the city, having spent the week leaping from rooftop to rooftop. While the problem had been solved with minimal casualties (the thought made you sick to know that there were any at all), Vicky Vale had been going nuts after a possibility that Nightwing's mask slipped off. You could seriously care less if he was blue-eyed, black-eyed, or blind—if you didn't get to the library in the next five minutes, you were sure that a book you needed would be checked out and there would be no way for you to study for an upcoming test.

While on any other day you couldn't ignore the withering stares thrown at you, each sour face only blurred together as you rushed down the street, weaving in and around umbrellas and rain-soaked ponchos. Gotham loved to rain, didn't it? In your mad dash you'd become something akin to a land-venturing mermaid from how wet you were. It only made everything more of an annoyance; the noise of the bumper-to-bumper traffic, the shoulder-to-shoulder late-afternoon Gotham sidewalk clogging, and the pelting rain. Too bad you forgot your—

If the world around you was a pinball machine with the surrounding people targets and yourself the ball, then you would have gotten a high-score for all the collisions. An arm here, maybe a hooked leg, and maybe you'd get a yell or a scowl in response as you darted by. But when you collide with this man it is like running into a brick wall. Your arm smacks into his shoulder-blade and sent the book in his arms flying. Before it can splatter into a puddle as he passes, the young man—university age, at least—swoops it up with the speed of a rock fired from a slingshot.

The words that come out of your mouth are more of a sickening yelp than a string of apologies. You try to apologize if the crash is harsh, but this man deserves more than just that. It was impossible not admire him. Not only did he have a large, square build like a brick house; his eyes were a startling green, the kind that pushed through the snow to remind that spring was coming, the light turning them blue and pine and back again; his jaw was as sharp as a knife and his throat was constructed like an ancient Roman column. But he was holding something. Yes.

Clutched in his hammer-like hands, his knuckles rooted beneath his fingers like steel bolts, was your book.

You looked at the cover in astoundment to confirm your suspicions. Seeing your interest, he flicked the binding so that you could see the name. He raised a sharp eyebrow,"On your way to the library?"

"Yeah..." You said, zoning out and looking to and from his face to the image on the book. Gaining your senses, you turned around him and got out of the crowd the best you could, stopping in front of a store only for the handsome stranger to follow. You gave him a bleary look,"Uh, I'm actually headed down to get that exact book. How'd you know?"