just some self-indulgent fics

Summary:

jason has to trust that she is following him

or

an orpheus and eurydice retelling

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Read on AO3

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Part 1

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It’s a journey he never thought he’d find himself on but there are a lot of things Jason thought he’d never do and has done, albeit most of the time reluctantly, against his will, in his life. 

It’s something out of a fairytale, an age-old story that was made to teach people lessons, to inspire thought and discourse, and Jason thinks that no one is going to believe that this is something he’s doing–something that can be done, but if there’s something that Jason Todd knows how to do, it’s the impossible.

If he was able to come back, why can’t she?

At least he’s here to guide her.

(God, he hopes that he is guiding her, that she, like she’s done many times before, is following him.)

…

There are moments, multiple throughout his time of knowing her, when she will ask him to play for her, play something she can dance to–an easy request, as there’s nothing she can’t dance to–something that allows her to close her eyes, spread her arms, and glide, twirl, fly across the room, allows her to forget that for a moment, just this moment at least, that there’s a world outside their own.

Jason doesn’t think he’s that good a musician, he prefers the company of his books when he finds himself having downtime, but he plays, he plays for her because she asks him to, because if it’s within his power, he’d do it for her, always for her.

So he plays her a tune, mostly something from the top of his head, a melody that’s inspired by her, and he watches her dance, follows her fluid movements with his eyes.

He’s not that good a musician, he can’t flawlessly play without looking down at the keys from time to time, but it doesn’t matter, she doesn’t seem to notice when he misses a note, and Jason couldn't care less either because he simply cannot tear his gaze away from her. 

(Jason! Look at me!)

He just can’t.

…

He’s long grown accustomed to all things cold and dark, in some way he has found comfort in it as it has often played to his advantage when he’s out fighting crime or investigating, but now he yearns for the light, the feel the warmth of the sun on his skin. 

It was not often that he found himself outside the city for leisure but there was a time, not so long ago, that she convinced him to drive them to the outskirts, just until they saw some semblance of nature, of life undisturbed, and they laid together under the clear blue sky. She had danced for him then, too, the trees as her backdrop, the grass her stage, her carefree laughter as her song.

And him, her enamored audience. 

There’s no laughter here now. The ground is wet under the soles of his shoes, the damp crunch of gravel under his heavy footsteps creates the soundtrack of this journey. He expects the haunting echoes of wind to accompany it, maybe the clicks of bats like what he hears when he is down at the Batcave, but the air is still, quiet, making it quite obvious that he is alone.

No. 

Not alone. 

Of course not because she’s here, she’s just behind him.

She’s always just behind him.

(Look! Look at me!)

…

Trust.

She’s there.

He needs to trust that she’s there, behind him, following him, like always.

Trust that even without him turning back, she’s just there, quickening her steps to catch up to his long stride.

He should probably slow down though, he doesn’t want to get too ahead of her, doesn’t want her to trip just because he wants to get them out of here as soon as possible, get her to where it's safe, get her home.

He stops.

He waits, just in case, in case she’s lagged behind, in case she has fallen due to their haste–

Fallen? What if she’s hurt? What if she’s too far behind, unable to move, he needs to turn back, needs to make sure–

No. 

Trust. 

She’s following him. 

She always follows him.

She must.

(Right?)

…

He used to say that her gaze was like fire, not in the way that it burns, but in the way that it warms, brings comfort. In the way that fire can symbolize that you’re home, that you can take refuge here.

He always feels the warmth of her stare, feels it like a caress down his back, before he hears her approach. It’s a difficult thing to do, to sneak up on him, and although her steps are soft, quieter than even his own trained and calculated movements, her eyes give her away everytime.

It’s this warmth that he seeks now. 

Sometimes he thinks he can feel it, feel the prickle at the back of his neck.

But it’s not enough, it was never enough just to feel that she’s there, he needs to know, needs to clarify with his own eyes that she is just behind him–

(Jason!)

–But he can’t. He won’t look back.

So he has to depend on what little warmth he feels, ignores that actual chill in his bones.

Because fire, although strong and consuming, can also be distinguished.

…

Just a peak–a little glance over his shoulder–just to make sure, just to check.

It won’t count—it will.

He can’t. 

But–

He just has to know. 

He has to make sure.

He must–

(Look!)

–He must not.

…

She used to say that Jason had a talent for finding her, especially when she needed him the most–when she was late to class, when she needed to go to the washroom because she’d spilled sauce on her white skirt, when she’d taken the wrong turn looking for their favorite coffee shop, when some Rogue goon had picked her off the streets to use as a hostage. He’s always there at the nick of time, just when she’s starting to feel a little hopeless, he’s there to save her, to bring her back.

What she doesn't know is that she has a talent for finding him, too. 

When he’s lost in his thoughts, stuck in a spiral of dark memories, of what ifs and could have beens. She finds him, brings him back to the light, reminds him that he is good, that he has good in him, that things, no matter how bleak they seem in the moment, will always turn out alright in the end.

Even him. 

Especially him.

…

(Look at me!)

Don’t.

…

There was a time, under the blanket of the night sky, when she roused him from his sleep, her eyes glassy with unshed tears, fingers twisted into his nightshirt.

“Why are you with me?”

She asks, voice cracking like ice. 

And Jason, Jason is frozen because—

She must know why. 

She must know.

“Why?”

But sometimes, sometimes she needs reminding. 

“How is it that you see me?”

She asks, eyes closing, tears falling, Jason reaches for her then, thumbs wiping at her cheeks, soft, so soft, fragile.

He sees her, he’s always seen her. 

It’s hard to look away from her.

And she must know why. 

…

“You always see the best in me.”

“I just see you.”

…

Light! 

There’s light!

It’s still a ways away but Jason finally sees an end to this journey, the suffering, the anxiety.

In his excitement, he nearly turns back to her, almost looks back to tell her, assure her, celebrate with her, that they’re almost done, they’re almost home but—

But he stops. He stops himself because he can’t, he must not.

He needs to reach the light first, needs to lead them out of the darkness, so he hurries, because it’s there—they’re almost there!

At last—

He’s here!

He feels the warmth on his skin, his eyes squint from how bright it is, can’t imagine how long it’s been since he’s been in the light, and her—it’s been even longer for her but soon, soon they’ll be together, together in the light—

“Jason!”

It’s automatic—he turns, he turns to her because she calls for him, he’ll always answer her call—

And, there she is!

There she is in—

Darkness.

…

“Jason, look! Look at me!”

And it’s almost funny how she feels the need to say that, to call his attention to her, because Jason is looking, he’s always looking at her. She doesn’t realize, doesn’t yet know, how hard it is for him to look away.

...

a/n:

Summary:

she'd follow jason todd anywhere

or

an orpheus and eurydice retelling

...

Read on AO3

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It’s a familiar and comforting sight, his back—the way his muscles flex under his shirt, the broadness of his shoulders, his confident posture.

One time, long ago when she first noticed him, when he’d first found her, she thought that although his frame was small, smaller than her own from years of being hungry, he was sturdy, unshakable–he carried himself like he knew things years beyond their age and that made him someone she would follow whole heartedly because she knew that he would never lead her astray, that he was a light amidst all the darkness.

(It’s pretty dark right now)

She’d spent years trailing closely behind him, trying to match his pace so that she would not get left behind and end up lost. Many a time he’d find her turning her head this way and that, stumbling into an unknown room of Wayne Manor, looking for her class in the wrong hallway, and he’d always guide her back to familiar waters, looking over his shoulder to make sure that she’s still there, following him.

(He’s not looking back now.)

There isn’t much that she remembers. It’s all fuzzy when she tries to think of the events that could have led up to this moment–waking up, getting ready for the day, those things seem to be irrelevant pieces of the puzzle. She imagines that maybe she was attacked, kidnapped, caught in the wrong place at the wrong time–whatever the reason, it does not explain where they are now, why it feels like they’ve been walking forever and, most importantly, why he’s not looking at her.

Jason? She calls, to ease her worry, but no words come out. She stumbles—her foot, it hurts, why does it hurt?—and Jason’s stride falters. 

He stops, she sees him beginning to turn–

(Look at me, please)

–But he doesn’t look back.

Why doesn’t he look back?

A beat passes, the quietness of their surroundings is deafening to her, before Jason resumes their trek, his movements faster, more determined.

—And she follows, she’ll always follow, forcing herself to catch up so she’s just a few steps behind him, because even if she doesn’t know what’s happening, she trusts him, she’ll follow him anywhere.

(But why won’t he look back?)

…

The first time he finds her, she’s curled up in a corner of an unfamiliar alleyway with scrapes all over her hands and knees. He’s breathing heavily, his hair is pushed back, slick from sweat, and the soles of his new shoes are scuffed up.  

He looks every bit the boy from the streets he used to be, but dressed in better, though now dirty, clothes.

She thinks she looks worse, with tear streaks down her cheeks. 

It surprises her that he knows her name, rasps it out with a heavy exhale.

She doesn’t quite know what to say to him, his bright eyes gazing down at her, because he’s a boy and she doesn’t yet know how to talk to boys. 

To her, boys are mean, cruel for no reason. No good reason, at least, because no matter how much her aunt tells her that they pick on her because they like her, she hates them—hates how they tug on her hair and point out the gap between her front teeth. She hates how they chased her into hiding in this alleyway only to abandon her when they could not find her, leaving her hopelessly lost.

If to be liked was to be hurt, to be scared, then she wishes no one liked her at all. 

Jason Todd is a boy, a boy who looked for her, a boy who says her name like breathing.

“That’s you, right?” He asks, patiently, kindly.

“Yes,” she replies, shakily.

He smiles, brilliantly like his eyes, and holds out his hand, small and calloused. 

“I found you.”

…

It feels like days have passed since she and Jason have begun this mysterious journey. 

Days of walking in darkness, days with nothing to listen to but the sounds of Jason’s heavy footsteps. Her steps are much softer, careful in order to avoid tripping, quiet because she was raised to dance in silence, to glide rather than to stomp.

Every so often Jason would stop, almost like he’s waiting for her. Even if she’s always right behind him, he stops all the same, head tilted like he’s listening. For what, she does not know, but the further they get from where they’ve come from, Jason’s usual stride seems a little less confident.

Jason? She tries again but nothing. 

So they walk.

(She’ll follow him, walk for however long she needs to, because it’s Jason)

He still doesn’t look back.

…

Jason once said that her gaze was like fire, that he’d feel her stare before he’d hear her come, that although her gait is silent, her eyes beckon. Her eyes, he had said, were more than just windows but were open doors, inviting him to see her, know her.

–And she’s embarrassed, shy. 

Because then he must know– 

(How can he not know?)

–how often her eyes drift towards him when they’re in the same room, how she seeks him out. 

He must know why.

He must know.

He must.

(Look back.)

…

Light! 

Their journey is reaching its end and it’s been so long since she’s seen light, almost felt like she’d never see it again, and now it feels like she could touch it with the tips of her fingers if she’d just reach out–

But she won’t, she won’t touch the light first because it’s Jason, Jason is ahead of her and the light shines onto him, casting his shadow over her, keeping her from its warmth, but that doesn’t matter, because it’s Jason and all of a sudden, despite him being just a few feet in front of her, he seems so much closer now, and she’s excited, because there’s light and there’s Jason and—

And her foot, the foot that’s been injured since before their journey, it hurts, the pain more real now than it felt before, and she can’t put any weight on it so she loses her balance, she’s falling, she–

“Jason!” She yelps because it’s he who she calls for when she’s scared, when she’s in trouble and Jason–

Jason, he turns, he turns and he finally looks at her, finally, his bright, brilliant eyes find hers, his arms reaching out to catch her and–

Darkness.

…

“I love you.”

“I know.”

“How?”

“It’s the way you look at me.”

“And what way is that?”

“I imagine the same way I look at you.”

...

a/n

i basically saw some poetry about orpheus and eurydice one day and could not get them out of my head.

i don't know if i want this to stand alone or if it needs a part 2. what do you think?

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find more ficlets of this couple here

Bubble Tea

The fact is, Jason isn’t a fan of trendy places. He dislikes the gimmick, the music selection, and the crowd that it draws in. He also doesn’t want to risk being caught in the background of photos that are sure going to pop up on social media. He doesn’t want the risk of people finding out where he is, who he’s with, figure out the pattern of his everyday life.

So, the new bubble tea shop—The GCBT or the Gotham City Bubble Tea shop—is the worse place for him to be in. Yet here he is, surrounded by Gotham University students, children, and pastels all because she saw one of the drinks on her Instagram page.

Because the fact is, Jason’s weak to her, can’t find it in himself to tell her no when she’s excited to try something new, something out of her comfort zone. That, and it really is his own fault. He knew he should have taken a different route back to their apartment, but he’d made a wrong turn just because he thought he saw a dog with a broken leg limping down the street.

Turns out the dog was fine, liked to play jokes on people, garner their sympathy only to trot away once he got what he wanted, and now here Jason is lining up to get…bubble tea.

He can’t imagine what Alfred would think of all this. The old butler turned his nose up at putting ice in his tea.

“Is this drink really that good?” Jason asks, shoulders hunches as a group of sorority sisters gathered to take a photo, colorful drinks held up to their faces.

“I mean, this place is packed, it must be.” She takes his hand in hers, pulling him further into the shop. Jason holds onto her tightly, knowing from experience how easy it is to lose her in a crowd. “You have to admit, it sounds pretty efficient. Chewing and drinking at the same time.”

“It sounds like a choking hazard,” Jason says when he sees the drink up close. “Do you remember that article I sent you about mochi?”

“If you find one about tapioca pearl related deaths, I promise I won’t make you come back.”

She pats his arm and smiles at him encouragingly. It’s the kind of smile that says, that reminds him that they wanted to experience being college students, being young and carefree, and this, this was part of the experience. It brings some comfort, her touch, her excitement over this drink, but the pop music blaring on the speakers is for sure going to play in his head while he’s on patrol later tonight, so, that’s great.

He heaves a sigh. “Let’s just get this over with.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be quick,” she squeezes past a couple who were in the middle of taking a selfie and Jason ducks his head in time to avoid being part of the photo. “Here’s the line. Whoa. Look at all her orders.”

A woman walks away from the receiving counter, both hands holding plastic bags filled with colorful drinks. Jason doesn’t think he’s ever had anything purple before and he’s sort of tempted to try it just so he could say that he did.

“Do you know what you’re getting?”

And, it seems like the wrong questions to ask, because she looks at him in surprise, mouth slightly open. It’s the same look she gets when she finds out that two of the items in her online shopping cart are on sale, but she can only afford to buy one of them.

“I mean, we have to get the best seller, right? But it’s just black tea, isn’t it? Is that playing it too safe? Should we get the seasonal drinks? Or the one with coffee. The coffee might be good. But it might be too early to have the caffeine…oh! There are juices, too! But would that be good with the pearls? I really want to try the pearls…but they have other toppings, too! Oh, wait, no, they’re called sinkers. Oh. I get it. Ha. So, there’s pudding and lychee and…grass jelly? What’s that? Jason, oh my god, there’s so many choices no wonder that lady ordered like twelve drinks! I—”

“Mouse,” Jason places his hand on top of her head, easily shutting her up like an alarm clock. “Breathe, would you?”

“Jason,” she gasps and the overwhelmed look in her eyes makes Jason smile. She really has no business looking that cute. “I should have done my research before we got here. Look, let’s just come back—”

“Welcome to the GCBT! What can I get for ya?”

“Noooo,” she groans out quietly, tucking her head into Jason’s chest, hiding. “I’m not ready…”

“Uhm,” the cashier begins, looking just about as uncomfortable as Jason feels. He loves his little mouse, he really does, but they’re in public.

“We’ll have two of your best seller, please,” Jason cuts in, taking out his wallet. “To go.”

…

Jason watches her stab her drink with the straw and mix the pearls around. He has his own drink in his hand, cooling his skin.

“Good call getting the milk tea,” she says, holding her drink closer like someone’s going to take it from her. “If this isn’t good, then nothing on their menu is, right? It’s what their brand should be known for.”

“Just drink it, mouse.”

“Yeah, of course, I, just, do I drink then chew or chew then drink?”

“You’re going to have to drink or else you’ll have nothing to chew.”

“Right, of course, well, here goes nothing.”

Jason watches the pearls shoot up the straw in rapid succession before she chokes on them. He already has a bottle of water ready for her, but she waves him off, hunched over, coughing. Jason should be concerned, really, feels the burn even on his end, but he sort of saw this coming. He’s just glad that she didn’t choke on any of the pearls or else he’d be completely useless to help her.

Death by secondhand tapioca choking did not seem like the way to go.

“So, chew first or…?”

“I, I hate you,” she wheezes out.

“I take it we’re not going back?”

She straightens, pushing her hair away from her face. There’re some tears in her eyes but the grin on her face tells Jason that she’s fine and that he’s not going to like her answer to his question.

“Jokes on you. I like it.” She mixes the pearls around with her straw once more before taking a sip, an actual sip because that’s what she should have done in the first place, approach it with caution.

“You literally choked.”

“You’re exaggerating,” she says, chewing on the pearls she managed to keep from going down her throat. “Try it.”

He tries to give his untouched drink to her. “I like living, thanks.”

“Oh,” she holds up her hand. “But unless you’ve tried bubble tea, you haven’t quite lived, Jason.”

“Mouse. It’s been two minutes. Don’t go preaching to me about the wonders of bubble tea.”

“It was life changing. I’m converted. I saw God.”

“Because you nearly died.”

“Just try it, Jason.”

“No thanks.”

“It’s good.”

“Alfred would never forgive me. It’s not tea.”

“Yeah, it’s bubble tea. It’s better.”

“Blasphemy!”

“Jason. Please?”

And the fact is, Jason doesn’t like trends, doesn’t particularly care if he’s on trend or not, but he’s always been weak to her, weak to her eyes, weak to her requests, so even if it kills him, at least he can say he died trying to make her happy.

…

“So? What do you think?”

“It’s…okay.”

“Shut up. You like it.”

“Fine, I do. But I’m never stepping foot in that shop again.”

“It’s alright. We can order it online.”

“Thank you.”

...

a/n: do you call it bubble tea or milk tea? pearls or boba?because where i live we call it milk tea and pearls, i don't know why i suddenly starting typing up bubble tea but here we are...

this was supposed to be arkham knight jason but then i wanted to put the white streaks in his hair... then i realized wait... that shouldn’t be possible, right? oh well. 

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experimenting a bit with jason’s look in my style. probably doesn’t look like him at all to be honest. lots of fluffy hair... went a little crazy with the scars, too. but mostly because i wanted to see how i’d draw them.

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Gotham Knights 

fine as we are, but we want more

jason and you reunite after a long time

CHAPTERS 1 || 2 || 3 || 4 || 5 || 6 || 7 || 8 (complete)

Read on AO3

ruin it all and love like fools masterlist

Jason and his angel’s lives after the events of fine as we are, but we want more

Read on AO3

Batman: Arkham Knight

built to love, but broken now // soulmate au

Read on AO3

to the one that your love masterlist

Jason and his little mouse’s lives after the events of built to love, but broken now

Read on AO3

Non-Canon Specific 

he must know (how it will end) // orpheus and eurydice re-telling

Part 1

Read on AO3

she must know (that she is loved) // orpheus and eurydice re-telling 

Part 2

it’s been like half a year since i’ve drawn anything let alone a buff guy so of course i needed a reference. just searched buff guy on pinterest and then a couple of pictures of jason todd and bada bing bada boom here’s some fanart!

inspired by his design from gotham knights (video game) except with more hair because i just don’t know how to draw hair that short haha. i also dont know how to draw scars so... im sorry that i butchered that

hoping to draw more of this boy! 

some short fics looking into the life of jason and his angel after the events of fine as we are, but we want more

as you know, it would really be better if you read the og fic first haha

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Taking it Slow Part 1

One would think that a bunch of vigilantes would have a strict diet regimen considering that they need to keep their health and physique in check. And for the most part, that’s true. They can afford to eat almost anything since beating up bad guys tend to burn a lot of calories but it’s in good practice to not skip their vegetables. But Dick and Barbara are big believers in “treat yoself” and Jason wasn’t going to miss an opportunity seeing her at Becker’s Best. Tim, well Tim’s pretty easy to convince when there’s coffee involved.

“—and that’s everything you ordered,” she says with a grin, straightening her posture after she’s put down all their plates and drinks. “Call me if you need anything else.”

“Thanks, angel,” Jason says, bringing his plate closer to himself before Dick can snag something. “I think we’re set here.”

“I thought we tried all of Mrs. Becker’s food by now but who would have thought she’d have a secret menu?” Tim cradles his cup of coffee in his hand. There’s a foam design dancing around the edges—“We’ve been trying 3D latte art if you’re interested?” she had suggested when Tim ordered his usual black coffee—and Dick already has his phone out to take photos.

“What can I say? She keeps up with the trends,” she shrugs. “Also, these are like her experimental batches. If they get good feedback, she includes them in her main menu.”

“Well, if she needs some taste testers, you know where to find us,” Dick says excitedly.

She laughs and Jason finds himself smiling. “I’ll let her know. Enjoy your food!”

And Jason doesn’t want her to go, not yet, but he knows that she has other customers, has to take orders and deliver them, but it’s been a while since he’s seen her, since they’ve actually been together, she’s been swamped with making coffee and writing papers since she’s fully recovered from her injuries, and, well, he misses her.

“Hey,” he says, grabbing hold of her wrist to stop her from turning away. And the way her expression changes when she looks at him, the way her customer service smile just brightens, turns genuine, excited, makes Jason feel like a hundred bucks. “What time do you get off later?”

“I’m only here ‘til about one.”

“Great. I’ll pick you up.”

“Oh? Just like that, Mr. Todd?”

“I didn’t think you’d refuse, angel.”

She rolls her eyes fondly. Jason’s noticed that she does a lot of things related to him fondly—that although she scoffs at his bad jokes, she smiles later, that her eyes twinkle even though she tries to glare at him. Recently, every time she looks at him, she looks so fond and he doesn’t know what to do about it yet, just knows that he wants her to keep looking at him like that.

“You’re lucky you’re cute.”

She eases out of his grip with little effort, he’ll never keep her if she doesn’t want to stay, and she squeezes his arm before she goes back to work. Jason watches her walk away for a second, eyes snapping away when they’ve drifted too low, before he turns his attention back to the table, to his food, and, regrettably, to his family who are staring at him, who were definitely watching the exchange.

“What?” He grouches, embarrassed. He doesn’t like the attention, can already tell he’s not going to like the conversation that follow because of course there’s going to be one.

The Bat family is big on communication even if it takes a bit—a lot for maybe half of them—of work to get them to open up in the first place.

“I can’t believe you’re still flirting in front of my dessert,” Dick starts, scrunching his nose. “C’mon. Have some decency.”

“At least they’re using actual words now,” Barbara laughs into her coffee. “Nice to see that you’re taking the next step, Jason.”

“Next step in what?”

“Your relationship?”

“I, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Jason. We’re all detectives here—no, scratch that. We’re family. You can’t play dumb with us.” Barbara sighs.

“We’re just going to hang out. Like we always do.”

“Sure, like Bernard and me. Total besties.” Tim snorts.

“We are.” Jason insists.

“No, Jay, Roy’s your best friend. Your angel over there, you two have crossed that line ages ago. You’re just the only one who hasn’t noticed.” Dick points his fork at him. Jason swats him because that’s just rude. “Hey!”

“Alfred taught you better than that, Dickie,” Jason scolds. “Pretty sure he also taught you to mind your own business.”

Dick scoffs. “Seriously? Alfred’s the biggest gossip I know.”

“It true,” Barbara nods. “He told us all about your date.”

“He also did tell us not to tell you,” Tim grins. “But I’m pretty sure he knew it was a lost cause.”

Jason groans. He really thought that he could keep this under wraps, that however they acted with one another, treated each other, his family wouldn’t notice the difference. But of course, they did. It seems like they make it a point to notice these things, these changes, developments in his life.

Which should be touching because they’re interested, but Jason feels like he’s a teenager again, trying to hide the fact that he as a crush. It’s mortifying.

“We’re taking it slow.”

“Slow is good,” Barbara encourages.

“Not too slow though. I imagine this has been in the works for years.”

“Shut up, Grayson.”

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christmas oneshot starring  jason and his little mouse from built to love, but broken now

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I saw Jason kissing...

Honestly, Jason didn’t mean to forget Christmas.

To be fair, it’s Christmas Eve so he didn’t actually forget Christmas itself, but still,  it’s cutting it close and, well,  it’s a holiday that’s kind of hard to miss with all the red and green décor. Frankly, he hasn’t had much to do with the holiday the past two years, never really had anyone to celebrate it with, to buy gifts for, so it was more out of habit that he paid no mind to the lights, the music, all the peppermint flavored food advertised on café and restaurant windows.

It’s in pretty poor practice that he doesn’t notice such obvious signs, he’s a detective, he’s supposed to see these things, observe, but he’s been busy. There were finals to study for, drug deals to bust, bad guys to rough up and throw in jail, sometimes even the hospital first. Jason’s got better things to do than stuff some stockings or prepare chocolate chip cookies and milk to leave out for Santa Claus.

The jolly old saint wouldn’t be able to get them anyway, what with Jason’s new security system set up.

So, really, it was only when Jason stopped a robbery by criminals dressed in red with sacks thrown over their shoulders that he finally got the hint. The red hats with white cotton balls glued to the ends of their point helped, too.

“Pretty sure Santa’s supposed to be leaving the gifts, not taking them.” He says as his only warning, just so he could see the look on their faces when they realize who’s caught them, before he shoots, careful to not kill anyone, but definitely aimed to scare, to immobilize.

It’s an easy fight. The Santa-wannabes go down easily, so easily that Jason’s a little disappointed.

But it’s Christmas Eve, so maybe it’s a sign that he should head back home, spend the holiday with someone he actually cares about.

It’s just that he doesn’t really have a gift to give, nothing to put under the small tree—now he realizes that it’s a Christmas tree—she had set up on the table next to their sofa and all the shops are closed early so that employees clock out and be with their families. Maybe he could make something, but no, that’s a bad idea. It all circles back to everything being closed and not having enough time.

He really should have been paying more attention. He’s pretty sure the grocery he was at the other day was blaring Jingle Bells, maybe even that song about the reindeer with the nose, while he looked for ingredients for spaghetti and meatballs.

wer r u?

come home soon?

The words, like always, tickle when they appear on his skin, like a gentle caress trying to get his attention. Jason stares at the words on his skin, the way her penmanship looks so soft and dainty against the harsh scars and thinks that he’ll just make it up to her when he gets home. He’ll cook dinner tonight, he’s sure he can whip up something Christmas-y and if he can’t, well, cookies are always an option. It’s the first thing Alfred taught him to make and the years of anger and hurt could not wash away those memories.

…

“There you are!” She greets once he’s inside the door.

There’s Christmas music playing softly in the background and Jason notes that their apartment is dimly lit, a sort of orange makes their living room seem warm, cozy, in theme. She’s set the mood. But he needs to get out of his boots first so he doesn’t track any dirt or grime onto their nice clean floors. It takes a second, it’s needlessly complicated but he needs the support so he can’t really complain.

“I’m back, mouse. Sorry I’m late,” he says, voice distracted as he works on the other boot. His gaze is lowered, focused on the clasps and the laces, but once he’s free from it, he straightens up, which, hurts, but at least he’s home and she’s always been good at alleviating his pain.

The first thing he sees are her white, thigh high socks. No, that’s not right. They’re not completely white, no, each leg has a red bow tied around her thigh, squeezing the flesh in such a way that Jason’s first thought is that he wants to bite it.

Which is shocking, he normally tries to push those kinds of thoughts away, but his eyes continue their journey anyway, taking in the shortness of her red dress, the way the white lining barely covers what Jason has yet to be privy to. There’s a thick black belt around her waist, cinching it, revealing curves that she doesn’t normally show off. Then there’s that white lining again teasing him, taunting him, daring him to keep his gaze on her chest, on the exposed skin.

And Jason, Jason is only human so he lingers for a second longer than he normally would.

He wonders what else he’ll find her wearing, wonders if she’s wearing a Santa hat, too. He thinks that red is definitely her color and Jason’s pretty sure he’ll never look at a gold belt buckle the same way again. So, he’s excited to take in what she looks like above her tantalizing costume, see what she’s done with her make up, her hair, but what he sees once he moves on from the slope of her shoulders, her neck, makes him to burst out into laughter.

“Mouse. Seriously?”

“What?” She says in the most innocent tone she can muster and he’s pretty sure she’s grinning behind the white beard she has on. “You don’t like?”

“I just didn’t expect—is that glued on?”

She strokes her beard in a thoughtful manner and Jason finds himself laughing all over again.

“I think it completes the look.”

“You’re looking very festive, yes. Have you been wearing that the whole night?”

“Nah. I threw this on just for you.” She approaches him now, hips swaying, and the image is very confusing with the beard. She’s slow to wrap her arms around him, always giving him a chance to stop her if he wanted to, but Jason’s used to her touch, craves it, so he welcomes her embrace. Even if the beard is a little itchy. “So tell me, have you been a good boy this year?”

“Oh, most definitely not.” He tugs on her beard, sees that its simply looped around her ears.

“Darn. Guess that means no present for you.” Her shoulders sag and she even manages to look a little disappointed.

“I’m sure you can make an exemption?” His hands seem to have a mind of their own, they’re enjoying the velvety texture of her dress, rubbing up and down, daring to even go lower.

“No can do. I’m a stickler for the rules.” But still she manages to step even closer, craning her neck to look at him and Jason has to tilt his chin down so he can keep her gaze. His hands take this as their chance to make a move and oh, would you look at that, she doesn’t seem to mind. “But, I am a sucker for tradition.”

It says a lot about their relationship, how in tune they are, that Jason can practically read her mind, can tell that she wants him to look up with just a pump of her eyebrows, a flutter of her lashes. And when Jason tears his eyes away from her to see what she has hung on the ceiling, he grins.

Mistletoe.

“So, what do you say?” Her voice brings his attention back to her and Jason, Jason has never been more in love with her. “Feeling the Christmas spirit?”

“Lose the beard, mouse.”

And she tears it off quickly if not a little violently, snapping the elastic off and tossing the beard over her shoulder. Jason feels the sting behind his own ears, but he finds that he doesn’t particularly care right now because there’s his girl, his pretty little mouse, all decked out in his color.

“Merry Christmas, Jason,” she whispers, eyes closing as their faces draw closer together.

Their kiss is sweet, she’s definitely had some hot chocolate while waiting for him, and Jason can’t help himself, he deepens the kiss in a way that makes her let out a surprised squeak before she melts into his embrace.

And Jason, Jason thinks he’s never going to forget Christmas now.

...

happy holidays to you all!

didn't think i'd be writing a christmas special(?) but i've been home the whole day and well, why not? i hope you enjoy this piece ☺

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Good Night, Jason 

Jason’s getting better at sleeping in his bed.

It took some time, some nights are better than others, but if he’s tired enough, relaxed enough, content enough, he’ll sleep in a bed. It helps that his little mouse doesn’t mind him in her space when he can’t find comfort in either his own bed or the rug in the living room. Some nights, some nights it’s better when he’s with her.

But of course, he can’t expect her to always be ready to tuck in when he is. Some nights she’s already snuggled up in her duvet, hidden underneath her mountain of pillows, when Jason comes back from patrol. She tells him that it’s okay for him to join her, that she doesn’t mind if she wakes up when he peels the blankets back. But Jason feels bad either way. Tries his best to not disturb her sleep when he can.

Other nights she’s up even later than him, working at the desk that she’s set up in the corner of her room. She’s doing better at managing her time between video editing and her schoolwork. It was a bit touch and go during their first semester. She had a lot of late papers, begged professors to make an exemption, and had to back out on more than one project which cost her some good money. But she’s found a balance. Which Jason is happy about, of course, he just wished it didn’t come at a cost of a particularly bad breakdown.

Jason learned that night that after a good cry, and some screaming against a pillow, she’s ready to go again, ready to tackle her problems. And he’s proud, if not a little sorry that she has to reach a breaking point before she can move forward.

So tonight, tonight she can’t join him under the covers. Tonight, Jason is tired. Patrol went on for longer than he would have liked and he has an early start tomorrow. (He’d like to have a word with whoever decided eight am classes should be a thing.) He’s just about ready to pass out. He just wishes that she could be next to him, curled up against him when he does.

But she’s typing away at her keyboard, finally in the “zone” for her reflection paper. She’s been agonizing about it for the past week, had the document open on her computer even if she was working on something else just in case inspiration hit. Seems like tonight’s her lucky night. That or desperation has hit, the due date is tomorrow, and she’s just typing out whatever comes to mind, not caring if any of it makes sense.

So, Jason closes his eyes, focuses on the steady tapping of her keyboard, the clicking of her mouse, and smiles when he hears her aggressively hit the backspace button.

Seems like tonight he’s going to be sleeping alone.

But it’s okay, Jason is okay. He can sleep on his own, on a bed, no problem.

some short fics looking into the life of jason and his little mouse after the events of built to love, but broken now

as you know, it would really be better if you read the og one-shot first haha

College Days

Driving Lessons 

Good Night, Jason 

I saw Jason kissing...

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Driving Lessons

Learning how to drive has always been something Jason wanted to do. Even before Bruce took him in, Jason wanted to drive, wanted to have the freedom to go wherever he wanted, to be in charge of how he got there, to be able to dictate when he can leave.  

And, sure, he can always just do it. He’s smart, clever, has a natural instinct for this sort of thing. If you put him behind the wheel, Jason’s pretty sure he can make it from point A to B without crashing, without veering too close to the sidewalk, but with all the things he does behind the police’s back, outside the law, he figured that this, this is the one thing he can do by the book.

At least until he needs to make a quick getaway, then there really isn’t much he can do about that.

Anyway, Jason’s quite confident he can get his license without sweat. It’s just, he thought that it would be good if his little mouse could learn, too, for emergencies. She had refused profusely when he brought it up, had begged Jason all the way to the counter to let her just stay home, told him that she had no interest going anywhere that wasn’t walking distance from their apartment. But Jason had fate in her.

Which he is seeing now, with each lesson that they take, was greatly misplaced, that for the first time in a long time, he’s miscalculated.

“Try to relax, mouse,” Jason says through gritted teeth when the instructor’s advice doesn’t seem to be helping. The car lurches once more and Jason feels a migraine forming.

“I’m trying.” She’s tense. More tense than he’s ever seen her. Her shoulders are practically to her ears and her knuckles are white with how hard she’s gripping the steering wheel. She presses on the break too strongly and Jason chokes when the seatbelt snaps him back into his seat. “I just, couldn’t we do this with an automatic? I only have two feet.”

“It’s better to learn manual first,” the instructor says, tone kind but tired. It’s the same question every lesson. “If you can drive a manual, you can drive an automatic.”

“Also, you don’t use both feet in an automatic,” Jason adds.

“So, what you’re saying is—” She drives over a hump too quickly making the car and everyone in it jump. Jason thinks that this, this is probably how it felt to be in the back of the batmobile during that night. “What you’re saying is, I just can’t drive.”

“No, of course not—”

“Yes, mouse, you can’t drive. This was a bad idea. That’s on me,” Jason cuts the instructor off because he’s pretty sure any longer in the car he’s going to vomit. “Get out. I’ll take it from here.”

“Mr. Todd, I think—”

“Thank you!” She jumps out from her seat and Jason barely has a chance to tell her to look before she swings the door open. A speeding car zooms past them, slamming into her open door, tearing it off its hinges. She lets out a shriek and falls back into her chair just as a police car quickly follows, sirens wailing.

“Good Heavens! Are you okay?” The driving instructor looks like they’re about to pass out. Jason feels like his heart is going to jump out his throat.

“I’m fine.” She’s shaken but unharmed. Also, a little pissed off but that’s assuring in its own way. “Did you get the plate number of that jerk?”

“I’ll deal with it tonight,” Jason assures her when he feels like his heart is back to normal, steady and strong against his chest. “What did I say about checking before you open the door, mouse?”

“What did I say when I said I shouldn’t be allowed behind the wheel?"

“Touché.”

...

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College Days

College.

You’ve never really given it much thought. You’d been editing videos since high school, have made a decent income from it, and never really thought of pursuing anything else. It also helps that although your parents never really cared for you, at least not in the ways that you needed, they had left you enough money to be able to manage on your own for a few years, even with the hefty hospital bills.

So, further education has never been on your mind, didn’t seem like a priority with how your life has been going so far.

But Jason, surprisingly, wanted to go, brought it up over dinner one night before he went out for patrol.

“What do you think about English Lit, mouse?” He had asked as he pushed his food around with his fork.

“Like, as a subject?”

“Well, yeah, like, what do you think if I take it up when the new term starts at Gotham U?”

“I, really, Jason? You want to go?”

“I always liked reading, books, discussing them with Alfred. So, I figured, why not?”

“But do you need to go to college for that? You can, like, sign up for a book club at the library or something.”

There’s a light blush on Jason’s cheeks and he tries to hide it with his hand, tries to play it off. He’s embarrassed. “It’s not just books. I liked school.”

“Well, then sure. I think English Lit is a good course for you to take up.”

“Why don’t you go with me?”

“I, I can’t afford the tuition, Jason.” Now you were playing around with your food, finding it easier to look at than Jason. You could see that he was excited, that this is something he wanted for the both of you.

“So, apply for a scholarship. Hell, we have money. It’s no big deal.”

“No, you have money.”

“Mouse. If you want to go, I’ll make sure it happens.”

So, college. It’s an interesting idea. You think that more than teaching you things that you can learn on the internet anyway, it’s the experience that you want to have. High school was rough, but you think that being on the same campus as Jason might be interesting. You’d at least have a friend to have lunch with.

It’s just, do you really want to take up math again? It seems like it’s an unavoidable subject, that all courses have to at least have the basic units. Algebra and Statistics. And you think, is going back to school really worth it?

“I can help you. You’re not going in this alone.” Jason laughs in that airy chuckle like way of his, more like an amused puff of air, when he sees you sort through different course pamphlets. Rather than ranking them by genuine interest, you were tossing out the courses that required more than two math units, the minimum.

“You’ll have other things to worry about, Jason. You’ll have your own classes, patrol, you can’t just drop everything and tutor me.”

“This is supposed to be fun, mouse.”

“I just don’t want to fail.”

“You’re not going to,” Jason says confidently. He’s been getting more and more comfortable with the idea of going back to school by the day. He’s looked up past syllabuses online, looked into forums where students discussed the best teachers for each subject. “But even if you do, it’s alright. We’re there to learn. It’s not like you’re gunning for a desk job after, right? You’re settled here. Just choose something that’s interesting.”

“I did always want to try art.”

“There you go! And look, only two units of math!”

“Ugh. You better make time for me in your schedule. I’m going to need all the help I can get.”

“I’ll always have time for you.”

...

a/n: inspired by the fact that jason loves books and i genuinely think (and i’m pretty sure i’ve seen discussions about it somewhere with actual proof) that jason’s a nerd and did enjoy school

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

all posted on old fic account

multi-chapter

it’s hard when you’re young (discontinued) 

CHAPTERS 1 || 2 || 3 || 4 || 5 || 6 || 7 || 8 || 9 || 10 || 11 || 12 || 13 || 14 || 15 || 16 || 17 || 18 || 19 || 20 || 21 || 22 || 23 || 24 ...

you’re amazing, you’re spectacular (discontinued) 

1 || 2 …

one-shot

two kids, no consequences