Unrequited Love [Jason Todd x Reader]

Chapter 8

"Ugh! (Y/N)! How do you expect to get a husband when you look that ugly?"

My mother would yell at me like this once in while. It was always about getting a husband.

I was only 5.

"Mom but I'm just going to go outside and buy milk. There's barely any in the fridge"

I asked her about it minutes before, and she stated she was too lazy to go outside and buy. If I wanted my bowl with cereal and milk, I needed to go out and buy the milk myself since my father was at work.

Now that I think about it, what did he do? What job did he have?

"And? You're not going outside like that. Get back here, I'm fixing your damn hair! I always have to do everything!"

She wanted me to pretty up in order to buy milk. The grocery store was literally next to our building, why in the world did it matter? At the time, I never saw the problem. I followed her demands as a good child should do.

It was fun at first. Looking like those princesses in the movies. Wearing beautiful dresses, gorgeous necklaces, and looking lovely. However, sooner or later, it got really infuriating and ridiculous.

If I didn't listen to her, she'd throw stuff at me. Commonly those several empty wine bottles she'd have on the table.

Hah.

You'd think that if my mother was a diabolical beauty obsessed bitch, then my father would be the exact opposite, right?

Wrong.

Beauty? Dresses? Jewelry? He could care less.

School grades, though? They better be above 95, or else...

Self-defense? "FOCUS! This is for your own good!" He'd say.

Honestly, what made it worst was that they both were polar opposites. One wanted me look the

🌸 🌼 prettiest and impress the boys 🌼 🌸

The other wanted me to

✏ ⚔ be good at school, but also learn how to fight ⚔ ✏

The only reason my father wanted me to learn self-defense was because he wanted a boy in the first place. I heard them arguing once about how he wanted a boy and not a weak girl. Then my mother– with her 'grand' idea, she told him to teach me how to fight. Apparently that's why my father wanted a boy, so he can have a fighter he could be proud of.

After hearing all that, I understood why he was so hard on me during training. Why he couldn't understand that I got tired a lot quicker when my reflexes were slow and I couldn't avoid his punch to my stomach.

Perhaps, to his eyes, he started forgetting about his daughter and only saw a boy– a son. Self-defense was just an excuse he gave me so I could really focus on the training after school.

I'd throw up after the sessions when I'd tell him after more than 5 times that I couldn't take it anymore. If you could only see the look of disgust and disappointment he wore when I'd be on the floor, barely breathing. I don't know how I even managed to survive.