Queens are supposed to have honour

“Oh,” Y/n sipped her drink from a mug. “He obsessively runs a hand through his hair whenever he’s nervous. He’s researching fertility plans.”

Dick gave her a side-eye. “But Jason loves researching,” he countered.

The woman shook her head. “Not this time. He’s got to get it right so that we’ll get pregnant within the next eighteen months. Otherwise, it’ll disrupt his entire life calendar.”

“Is that a real thing?”

“It hangs over our bed,” Y/n replied. Dick couldn’t tell if she was joking or not. “You should’ve seen him when he was planning our honeymoon,” she continued as she nodded to her husband. “He was frantic. Cross-referencing and all that stuff. It paid off though. I could hardly walk the next day, Dick,” she said loudly with a smirk. Y/n gave Jason a thumbs-up and grin from behind the window. He raised a brow, not having heard what she said.

Ignoring the last comment, Dick asked, “why aren’t you helping? It’s your uterus.”

“Hell yeah, women’s rights, Grayson.” She held up her hand for a high-five and Dick, without looking, returned the gesture. “But you know Jay. He’s very particular about schedules and planning and all that crap.”

“So he's stress spiking his hair,” Cass interrupted their conversation and stood beside Y/n. “Big deal. That's like a one on the Todd Panic System.”

“Yeah, but we've also jumped up to level two,” Y/n said. “Creepily singing songs from Hairspray.”

Jason was sitting up in their bed, still on his computer. Y/n laid beside him, trying to get some sleep when he began murmuring, “Because I'm big, blonde, and beautiful… Face the fact, the simply irrefutable.” Y/n slowly covered her head with her pillow.

Continuing, Y/n shrugged. “So, yeah, it's a little tough right now, but I think the worst is behind us. We had to have a bit of a talk about it, you know?”

“I don't understand,” Jason said one night after Y/n showed some hesitancy about kids. “Darling, I thought we were on the same page about kids. We talked about this.”

With a handful of popcorn halfway to her mouth, she paused. “We did?”

“Yes!” Jason exclaimed. “Remember when I showed you pictures my brother sent of Matthew at the water park and asked if we should do it someday? You said ‘are you kidding me? Of course!’”

Y/n froze and her mouth dropped open. “I was talking about going to the water park! You were talking about having kids?!”

Jason couldn’t help but let out a startled laugh. “Yeah! I asked if you think we could afford it and you said, ‘we'll start saving right away.’”

“Wait wait wait. Let me get this straight. All that hard-earned water park money I've been saving, you want to spend it on kids now?”

Suddenly, Jason slammed his head down onto his computer and shouted, “stupid fucking AI overviews!”

“He'll be okay!” Y/n reassured her coworkers before heading into the breakroom. “Hey, babe. Oh! I see this is your… fifth cup of coffee?” She counted the empty mugs on the table.

“You’re so right,” Jason muttered. “I’ll get another.”

The detective frowned. “Okay, Jay, I don't want you to take this the wrong way, but you gotta calm the hell down. It’s trying to get pregnant. It’s supposed to be fun and sexy!” She wiggled her shoulders back and forth.

Damian, who was just entering the breakroom, promptly turned and walked out. “I don’t need to hear about your copulating.”

Jason didn’t even glance at Damian. “You think that because you love me, and love has made you dumb,” he declared to his wife.

“I disagree, if anything, love has made me smarter,” she said, holding a finger up. “Remember last week when I roasted the marshmallow to perfection?”

“That was big. I was really proud of you.”

“Thank you, and… Hold onto your crazy-ass hair… Because I'm about to prove to you that you have nothing to worry about. If it happens, it happens,” she shrugged. 

Jason stared at her before muttering, “I’ll make a chart.”

“Sir, a witness just came in with her child,” Dick told Captain Wayne, poking his head into the superior’s office. “While she was being interviewed, I took the kid to the soft room, and the toy situation in there was kind of bleak.”

“Is this your opinion or the child's opinion?” Wayne asked.

“It's mine,” Dick admitted.

Wayne crossed his arms. “Trick question. Any opinion about toys is a child's opinion. You, Sergeant Grayson, are a child.”

“All we have in there are toys from the movie Alice in Wonderland, and none of them are even Alice,” Dick spluttered in defense.

Wayne hummed and opened a desk drawer. “I have an extra graphing calculator I could leave in there for the children,” he offered.

“Um, I was thinking we could liven things up in there. Maybe add a model train?” Dick suggested. “I used to love them when I was a kid.”

Bruce’s eyebrows raised up slowly. “I was also a model train enthusiast as a child,” he revealed. “Those miniature tracks provided me with some of my happiest memories.”

A young Bruce laid on his bedroom carpet with a small circular train track set up in front of him. He was dressed in a button-down shirt and dress pants with suspenders. “All aboard. The train will be departing in forty-five minutes.” The child then paused as the clock ticked by, evidently waiting for forty-five minutes to pass.

“I like this idea, Grayson,” Wayne admitted. “I'll help you build the train set.” He stood from his desk and smoothed down his uniform.

Dick grinned and hopped onto the balls of his feet. “Sweet! This'll be fun!”

The captain paused and looked at his sergeant in disappointment. “I hope not. It's trains.”

A while later, Y/n walked into the bullpen. She couldn’t find her husband anywhere. He was supposed to buy them lunch and she was getting very hungry. “Jason’s not in the breakroom,” she announced. “Or the evidence room or the ladies' bathroom – I don’t know why I looked in there, because now it seems stupid, but my tummy’s rumbling and I’m getting desperate! I can't believe this is happening. We gotta figure out where he is.” She addressed her colleagues as they clearly had nothing better to do in a police precinct. “Alright, think! If you were Jason, where would you be right now?”

Damian immediately began rattling things off. “The boring suit store. A crossword factory. A museum of sappy love crap. Is it possible to enter the color diarrhoea yellow?”

“That's my husband you're talking about,” Y/n growled, pointing a finger at Damian. “Ooh, wait, I know, I can call him from Sarge's phone. There's no way he'll turn down a call from a superior officer.” Dick tossed her his phone without arguing, knowing that no work would get done until Jason was found. He was briefing Steph about a robbery before he left to help Wayne with the trains. After a couple of rings, Jason still hadn’t picked up. “Right,” Y/n groaned. “I forgot it’s Dick. No one has respect for him.”

“Hey!”

“Tim!” Y/n instructed loudly, pointing to the man currently taking a nap on his desk. “Let's go!” She ran out of the bullpen, Tim still looking after her bleary-eyed. When he finally caught up, Y/n was already at the front door. “The duty sergeant said he exited this way, and…” She bounded out of the precinct to a parking lot with no sign of her love. “...he's not here.”

Tim shook his head. “Stop thinking about him like he's your husband,” he said. “What would you do if he was a perp?”

Y/n shrugged. “I guess role play, try and see the world through his eyes. Oh, no,” she suddenly gasped. “What if I see my reflection and fall in love with myself?”

“Y/n,” Tim deadpanned.

“Roger that,” she clicked her tongue and began walking. “Okay, fine, I'll be Jason. Just know everything I'm about to say, I say with love,” she prefaced before lowering her voice and placing her hands on her hips. “I'm outside. I like to listen to audiobooks when I’m alone and need to think,” she said as her husband, voice still low to imitate him. “Wait, what audiobook am I in the middle of? Pause to think, pause to think,” she said, tapping her chin and Tim rolled his eyes. “Yes, of course, I just finished The Great Gatsby and talked about it all morning and how Zelda Fitzgerald had a huge impact on him. I was going to read her works next. Alright, Jason’s on the move,” she narrated. “And I'm walking, I'm walking.”

In the soft room, Wayne and Grayson had compiled a table with a train track running the length of it and a station branching out in the middle. Bruce was on one side, his thin glasses on and inspecting one of his trains. “Ah, GP40 Diesel locomotive with sprung drive wheels, rule 17 lighting, and full underbody detailing. You're gonna be the belle of the ball,” he whispered out, eyes widening.

Meanwhile, Dick stared down at two mini-figures of townspeople. “Richard is your god,” he proclaimed. He had his glasses on as well with a beaded cord around his neck that Y/n and his daughters teased him relentlessly about. “All hail Lord Grayson, giver of life! ‘All hail Lord Grayson!’” He wiggled the townspeople around and raised his voice an octave, as if they were repeating the grovelling back to him. “Check out Richard’s Railyard,” he said proudly to his captain. “It's got three ice cream shops, a nice 50s diner, and a Mexican restaurant with a sombrero on it like from Despicable Me 2.” There was also a lake and beach with trees surrounding the town.

Wayne gestured to the sombrero, palm out. “What happens to the sombrero when it rains?” he asked. “I see no drains. Does it just fill up with water until the building collapses, killing everyone inside?”

Dick stared at Wayne from over the lens of his glasses. “It never rains at Richard’s Railyard.”

“So you achieved this level of lushness through irrigation alone?”

Dick rolled his eyes. “I don't know,” he exclaimed. “I'm just trying to build a fun world. That's what model trains are all about: imagination.”

The captain shook his head. “No, they're about accuracy,” he rebutted. “People like to see the world around them exactly as it is, but smaller.”

“Okay, well, we can have part of the model be very accurate and part of it will be creative,” Dick said, pointing to their separate areas. 

“I'm okay with that,” Wayne conceded, though he stared at Dick’s side with the slightest pursing of lips that showed his extreme hatred. “Would you fetch me the 8 millimeter level from my office?” he asked.

“Oh, sure.”

After Dick headed out, Bruce picked up the Mexican restaurant and slowly dropped it into the trash. “Oops.”

Y/n was still walking down the sidewalk, Tim trailing next to her. He always seemed to get wrapped up in her shenanigans. Just as he was lamenting it, Y/n paused. “Oh, I'm seeing a paper supply store. I wonder if they have those new yearly calendars with boxes big enough to track my darling wife’s ovulation cycle?”

“Whoa, you're good,” Tim said. “I've definitely heard him talk about those calendars. Not the ovulation thing, though,” he remarked. “I didn’t need to know that.”

“That's because they also have the moon cycles on them and don’t put two days in one box, like other calendars do to save space,” Y/n said, voice still low like Jason’s.

“This is chilling.”

Y/n turned to him and offered, “you wanna get in on this? I’m sure you would do a great Jay voice.”

“I’m good, but thanks.”

Y/n turned towards the store and tried to open it, but the lights were off inside. “Damn it all to hell. The store is closed!” she said, hands returning to her hips. “My bad day just got a whole heck of a lot worse. Time to turn dramatically away… I'm seeing… The state library.” The woman grinned, knowing exactly where her husband had ended up.

“Captain,” Dick cleared his throat the moment he stepped back inside the room with the 8 millimeter level. “Did you throw away my sombrero restaurant?”

Wayne glanced up. “Oh, I might have knocked it in the bin by accident,” he said. “I do remember saying, ‘oops.’” At Dick crossing his arms, Wayne said with no emotion, “fine, I will come clean. You're ruining our model with your frivolous garbage.”

Immediately, Dick shrieked, “we’re building this for kids! You really think they're gonna enjoy your brown rectangle of dirt with one little house?”

Bruce swept a hand over his side of the trainyard. “Excuse me, this is an accurate facsimile of a mid-sized switching yard. And it isn't a ‘little house.’ It's a work shed where the yardmen get their OSHA-mandated eight hours of rest between shifts. So, yes, I think the kids are gonna love it!” With a slight raise in voice, it was the most Dick had ever seen his Captain worked up.

The sergeant exhaled and ran a hand through his hair. “Okay, we have a witness coming in at three with her son. Let's split this train set in two, make our own models, and see which one he likes more.”

“You’re on.”

Y/n bounded into the government building. “The Department of Records, where his cousin Faye works.” The detectives headed to the front desk and looked at the sign in sheet. “Noice. He signed in 20 minutes ago. Yet another great opportunity for the voice!” She pointed towards Tim who shook his head.

When they got to Faye’s desk, however, the woman informed them, “Jason’s not here.”

Before Y/n could swear, Tim took that opportunity to lower his voice and swing his arm over her shoulder. “Don't give up, babe, you'll find me,” he said gruffly.

“Not now, Tim,” the detective snapped. “Okay, we’ve only been married for a month and I’ve completely lost my husband. I'm spiraling. Somebody say something positive.”

“No,” Faye said with the same dry humour that her cousin had.

Tim glanced at the cousin he had just met. “Do you… not like Y/n?” he asked awkwardly.

“Oh, no, I like her,” Faye said with a bright smile. “The wedding was great and I really think she’s a great match for Jason. I just don’t like her as a trivia teammate.”

Y/n groaned loudly. “Okay, Faye! You have gotta get over the trivia thing. I tried my hardest!”

The woman proudly stood up at a bar’s trivia night. “The phrase you're looking for,” she announced to the room, “is ‘Winter is coming.’”

Faye dropped her head into her hands. The Emcee said slowly, “no, what Paul Revere said was that the British are coming.” Jason placed a hand on his wife’s arm, urging her to sit down. 

“In my defense, Jay and I just finished Game of Thrones.”

“It’s basic history!”

“Trivia pressure is real!”

Tim interrupted before the argument could continue. “Can we please get back to Jason?”

“He signed in downstairs 20 minutes ago, but didn't come here, so I don’t know,” Faye said.

Y/n sighed and ran a hand through her hair. She and her husband had similar things they did when stressed. “Well, this is the Department of Records, so I'm going to make an educated guess and say he came here for a record.”

“Ooh, not sure you're qualified to make an educated guess,” Faye sucked in a breath through her teeth.

“Look,” the detective rounded on her husband’s cousin. “I know lots of things!” she argued. “I know everything about Batman. I'm not dumb, I just can't handle the trivia pressure. Anyway, can you please just look up every file that's been logged out in the past 20 minutes?”

“Fine,” Faye rolled her eyes. Y/n stuck her tongue out at the woman and somehow, Tim knew they both gave Jason the same headache. “Yeah, there was a sixty-sixth precinct case file from August six years ago that was just accessed.”

Y/n’s shoulders dropped in relief. “Okay, I definitely know where he is,” she breathed out.

“Like you definitely knew the Serengeti was a type of pasta?”

“Let it go, Faye!”

Still in the soft room and ignoring all other duties, Dick and Bruce were just finishing the train station. “Mount Dick’s looking good,” Dick was saying. “I just add a little snow, and…” He sprinkled some over the mountain. “Perfect.”

“I’m unsure you wish your mountain to be named after you,” Wayne commented. “You should be grateful this isn’t a sexual assault case or it could be very triggering for the child.” While Dick gaped at him, Wayne looked proudly down at his side of the table. “Ah, yes. Now, that's what I call the right amount of arid shrubbery.”

“Great job, Captain,” Dick said sarcastically. “That's just what the kid's gonna want, to play in a serial killer's dumping ground. Meanwhile, all aboard the Grayson Victory Express!” He pushed his train along the track.

Wayne huffed out his version of a small laugh. “Oh, I'm sure the child will love that you put a steam locomotive whistle on a diesel train. I'm joking,” he added. “He's going to vomit when he hears that.”

Just then, an officer named Duke popped his head into the room. “Kid's here.”

“Show him in,” Wayne instructed.

Duke smiled and led a twelve year old boy into the room. The kid had bright green eyes and dyed hair to match. He was wearing a purple vest and black shirt underneath. “This is Garfield Logan,” Duke introduced.

“Hello, Garfield. I'm Captain Wayne,” the man said, hands clasped behind his back. “We have some trains here to play with, like this one that carries coal and rivets, the two main exports of our town. Would you like to transport some coal or rivets?” he asked, slowly pushing the train along as if that would entice the kid.

“Or,” Dick jumped in. “Would you like to come over here to Richard’s Railyard, where it's always all four seasons and has a volcano?” He grinned, certain he had won.

Garfield’s face scrunched up and in a high voice, asked, “man, do you guys have any video games?” He shoved his hands into his vest pockets.

Wayne cleared his throat and said, “I see what's happening here. You're afraid that you're gonna make Sergeant Grayson feel bad. Don't worry,” he reassured the kid. “He's a subordinate.”

Before Dick could complain, Garfield shrugged. “Nah, just… Trains are kinda lame and nobody plays with them.”

“Okay, but surely one of these trains is less lame than the other, right?” Dick asked desperately. 

Garfield looked back and forth between the two sides before decidedly saying, “no, they look exactly the same to me.”

“Get out,” Wayne demanded.

“Hey,” Y/n greeted her husband softly. She closed the door behind her. He was standing in an abandoned apartment overlooking an alley.

“How'd you find me?” he asked, though it sounded as if he knew all along she would.

Y/n stepped over next to him and leaned her head on his shoulder. “A mid-August stakeout six years ago. Detectives L/n and Todd conducted surveillance for Harley Quinn and Pamela Isely. This is where we came to catch the Penguin and you fell in love with me.” Jason scoffed and grinned. Y/n corrected herself, “the day that you flirted with me for twenty seconds and I fell hopelessly in love with you.”

“I was already in love with you for years,” Jason revealed, leaning down to press a kiss to her hair. “I'm sorry I freaked out and ran away,” he muttered. “I’m just… in shambles about this pregnancy thing for some reason.” He ran a hand down his face. “I’m so fucking worried, Y/n. What if something happens to you? I’ve been researching and honestly, I’d rather have you safe and sound with no kids than something happen to you. Like, not to scare you, but some of the diagrams I’m seeing are terrifying. And what if I’m not a good husband? I know that a ton of women comment on how their husband doesn’t do anything around the house and what if I turn out like that twenty years down the road? I couldn’t live with myself seeing the light leave your eyes. It’s the thing I love most about you,” he said. “And I don’t want this to mean we sacrifice our jobs. You love being a detective and I… gosh, I just don’t know what to do.” He looked down at his wife and froze. “Oh, shit, why are you crying? You’re not supposed to be crying.”

Y/n laughed, wiping away the tears. “You’re an amazing husband, sweetheart,” she said quietly. “And I think we both know that I would whoop your ass if you weren’t doing enough around the house.”

“Yeah, you would.”

“But you already do a lot,” she said. “You take care of me when I’m sick and do the dishes and help with the laundry. I don’t have to ask you to clean the bathroom or add something to the grocery list. And I know pregnancy is complicated,” she said, reaching up to place a hand on Jason’s cheek. He leaned into it. “Trust me, I’ve grown up hearing all the horror stories. But I also know I wouldn’t feel so ready to do it unless my husband was the best man ever. I know you’ll help me with postpartum stuff and be with me through everything. You’ll change diapers and deal with throw-up and all that crap. I want kids with you, Jay. You’ll make an amazing dad.”

“I love you,” he whispered before bending down to kiss her lips gently.

“I love you, too. Wanna try for a baby now?” Y/n asked with a grin, wiggling her eyebrows.

Jason raised a brow. “I thought you said this place had tetanus.”

“Ah, so true.” She turned back and tried to open the door. “Hmm. Right. You don't have a key for this random door, do you?” she asked sheepishly. Jason just stared at her.

“Where's Tim?” he just asked.

Y/n said, “I don’t know. But he knows where we are, at least.”

Jason sighed, but was already sitting down on the floor, readying himself for a wait. “I’m sure he’ll come get us–” Just then, Y/n began tying some rope around her waist that was lying on the ground. “Oh, no, you won’t,” he said firmly as she headed towards the window. He scrambled upright. “No. Y/n, love of my life, you are not Die-Harding off this roof.”

Y/n beamed. “I am definitely Die-Harding off this roof, for you and only for you, and also for me because I've always wanted to do it.” She squealed in excitement, swinging a leg out the window.

“Sweetheart, come on, get down from there. It's too dangerous.”

“It's perfectly safe,” Y/n assured him, handing him the other end of the rope. With nothing else to do, he tied it down. “See you in hell, kiddo,” Y/n said, voice low as she saluted him.

“What?”

“Yippee ki-yay!” she shrieked before jumping off. Jason held onto the rope for dear life, even though it was tied down. Why hadn’t he tried to grab her? “Bars, bars, bars!” Y/n suddenly shouted and Jason looked over the edge just in time to see her hit some bars on the window below them. “Jason, there are bars on the windows!”

Dick stepped into Wayne’s office once more. “I just set up a video game system,” he informed his superior. “The kid's much happier. Turns out children don't care about model trains.”

“Not only children,” Bruce said. “I'm beginning to think nobody does.”

He was on the phone with his husband, saying, “Clark, you are not gonna believe this. Richard put Lo-V IRT Pullman rolling stock on a ballastless track. I was dying, Clark, dying.” After a beat, he sighed, “yes, you can hang up now.”

“I guess we're condemned,” he said, sitting back in his chair, “to a life of solo railroading.”

Dick smiled gently at his captain. “We don't have to be. I know we've had our differences, but through some crazy twist of fate we found each other. Shouldn't we just be excited that we have someone to share that with?”

Wayne grunted, “not interested. Good day.”

“Okay,” Dick hummed. “Well, I just wanted to show you I got a tiny little train inspector.” He lifted up a mini-figurine. “It's to make sure the tracks are up to code. I'll be going.” He set it down on Bruce’s desk.

“Wait,” Bruce suddenly said and Dick turned around happily. “You left your figurine behind for some reason. Take it.” With a sigh, Dick grabbed his toy. He was just out the door before Wayne said again, “wait.”

A while later both were back in the soft room, trains connected together again. “Come on, Sergeant, take the train through the pass.”

“All aboard the Graysonliner!” Dick cheered. “Next stop, Waynesovania.”

Tim unlocked the door with a key he had gotten from the building superior. “Where the hell have you guys been? What’s taking you so long?” He saw Jason by the window and a rope falling down the edge. It didn’t take long for him to ask, “did Y/n Die-Hard off the roof?”

“Yeah,” Jason sighed.

“But the windows have bars,” Tim said.

A voice from below shouted up, “yeah, we all know about the bars, Timmy! Just don't worry about me. Leave me! I know it's gonna be hard to walk away, but you have to be strong!”

“You’re my wife. I don’t think I’m legally allowed to.”

That night, Jason approached his wife and Tim. “Hey,” he said. His hair had returned to normal and he didn’t have stress outlining his eyes anymore. “I just want to thank you guys for chasing me down. I know it's been a rough day, Y/n, but I think I know how to make it up to you.”

The woman gasped. “Three minutes in paradise?” she pleaded.

Jason threw her a disgruntled look as Tim sipped his coffee. “We both know I can go longer than that,” he said. Tim spat out the coffee. “But no, not that. Even better.” Later, at Odin’s Bar, he placed an arm over her shoulders. “Okay, welcome to trivia night!”

Faye was already at the table when Y/n, Jason, and Tim sat down. “You said you would never bring her again!” She slapped Jason’s arm.

“Don't worry, it's gonna be fine, I promise.”

Y/n, with a grimace on her face, asked, “is it?”

It was then the Emcee announced, “tonight's first category, by special request, is Batman!”

Y/n jumped out of her chair as Tim snickered. “Yes!”

“Question one,” the Emcee began, “who is Batman’s first love interest?”

“Oh! Superman! Or the Joker!” Y/n shouted out.

“Damn it, Y/n!” Faye exclaimed as the Emcee hesitated and shook his head.

Landlord!Jason Todd entirely changed things. He lowered the rent and incorporated fixed prices. People came flocking in and soon he was making a steady profit. It also helped that he was skilled in handy things around the buildings and didn’t need to pay for plumbers or electricians unless truly out of his depth. (His childhood days stealing hubcaps and working with his hands were extremely useful. Who knew?)

Landlord!Jason Todd knew you as a name on a lease. You had moved into one of his apartments after graduating from Gotham University and needed a cheap place to live

Landlord!Jason Todd had met you once, when you first moved in. He gave you his number and you saved him in your phone as “Hot Landlord”

Landlord!Jason Todd showed up in jeans and a tight white t-shirt. From the moment you let him into your apartment, he could feel the heat. Your A/C was definitely not working. Controversy, you were in a tank-top and shorts. As he got to work, he wiped a sheen of sweat from his forehead. Meanwhile, you were all but gawking at your landlord. You knew a lot of pornos started this way, but holy shit, you didn’t understand the appeal until now. Not only was he hot, but it was like Jason’s presence in your apartment followed you. You tried to get some work done – dishes, emails, and whatnot, but you were acutely aware of him

Landlord!Jason Todd tried not to listen into your call when your phone rang, but what else was he supposed to do? The conversation didn’t get interesting until your voice dropped and you muttered into the phone, “babes, my hot landlord is here fixing my A/C. God, it’s like a fine snack just there in my living room.” You laughed and continued, “I almost wanna go in being like, ‘oh, no, I can’t pay my rent! However can I repay you?’” 

Landlord!Jason Todd was a gentleman and didn’t wanna capitalise on that, especially since he didn’t know if you were joking or not, but his pants definitely got tighter

Landlord!Jason Todd knew he was attractive – he had been hit on many times before, but he did let his mind wander as if to what might happen with you. He wasn’t blind, after all, and your tank-top didn’t leave much to the imagination

Landlord!Jason Todd fixed the A/C and left but was horribly distracted the rest of the day

Landlord!Jason Todd got another text from you three weeks later. There was apparently a problem with your fridge. Jason was in the middle of a Bat-family dinner and just stood up, his chair screeching out from under him. “Gotta go,” he said simply, ignoring everyone’s protests

Landlord!Jason Todd stepped into your apartment with ease. “No problem at all. What’s the issue?” You were in the middle of dinner yourself and making noodles. You showed him the problem and practically drooled over him as he rolled up his sleeves, kneeled down, and got to work

Landlord!Jason Todd made idle conversation with you, but it wasn’t long before his hands migrated to your legs and his kneeling position aided him greatly in eating you out on the kitchen counter. Your nails dug into his forearms as you gasped out at the sight before you and the sensations Jason was bringing you. One of his hands was spreading your legs apart and the other was anchored on your hip. Your noodles burned, but neither of you cared

Landlord!Jason Todd was a talker during sex. He liked missionary best as you soon learned, wanting to see you as you came apart. That didn’t stop him from driving you into the mattress however, the headboard slamming into the wall. “Don’t worry, I’ll fix the plaster if it breaks,” he reassured you in a gruff voice as sweat beaded on his forehead. “Been thinking about this ever since I fixed the A/C. Heard you on the phone, you know.” You could only let out a little noise as his hips pumped into yours, rocking your body back and forth

Landlord!Jason Todd made fuck-buddies-with-your-landlord a great experience for you. He could stop in whenever and was very good at playing out your fantasies. Suddenly, your appliances just started breaking all the time and so there was no other choice but for him to come over and fix them. Oh no, how horrible. He would refuse any type of payment other than you in bed, clothes stripped off

Landlord!Jason Todd really really liked eating you out. He was a proud eater and would grow out his stubble or shave it, depending on what he wanted to give you that day. His stubble had even turned a lighter colour from how much time he spent between your legs

Landlord!Jason Todd didn’t love quickies or phone sex. He would still do them, especially if you were begging him to, but liked to take his time with you and do multiple rounds

Landlord!Jason Todd was very good at aftercare. He would wrap you up in one of his sweaters he conveniently had brought with him and clean you up so gently. He loved to tuck an arm under your head and you loved to subsequently bite his bicep usually leading to round two

Landlord!Jason Todd who was a bit nervous to ask you out officially. He loved your little rendezvous and knew you did too (you frequently made comments on how perfect his body was and would run your hands through his hair after sex) but didn’t want to fuck it up. Think of how awkward that would make it all, especially because of the power dynamic. He would never even consider using his position as your landlord against you and he made sure to tell you that over the dinner he took you to and the bouquet of flowers he got you

Landlord!Jason Todd who was actually surprised when you laughed and said, “of course I want to go out with you!” He hadn't believed it at first, thinking you had just wanted a good fuck, but when he saw your smile, he knew you were serious

Landlord!Jason Todd was a bit quieter of a man until it came to sex. He would let you take the lead with most conversations and was very polite whenever meeting your friends or family (though you knew his sarcastic sense of humour would come out when he felt more comfortable around them). However, when he had you in bed it was like he had no filter. Every comment about how perfect your body was or how you felt around his cock escaped him. The obscene things he would tell you he was gonna do to you while already fucking you made you even more wet

Landlord!Jason Todd had more talents other than the sex, though. Because of his naturally quiet nature, he was an incredible listener that absorbed things like a sponge. He remembered so many little details about you and utilised them magnificently. He would randomly buy little gifts or send you pictures of your favourite colour out in nature with the caption, “thinking of you,” which he constantly was

Landlord!Jason Todd was an incredible cook as well (everyone, thank Alfred)

Landlord!Jason Todd who, on your one year anniversary, realised your contact name for him still hadn't changed

Landlord!Jason Todd got teased relentlessly by his family about how obsessed he was over you 

Landlord!Jason Todd knew he was gonna marry you when you slapped him over the head after mocking Damian at a Bat-family dinner

Landlord!Jason Todd let Bruce pay for the wedding, but Jason paid for the ring

Jason was unique in this way. He had used fear toxin once, against Dick, when he was still Red Hood and vehemently against the Bats, still tender from Bruce’s supposed betrayal.

The singular time fear toxin had been thrown in his face, however, Scarecrow was not prepared for the outcome. The villain had spent weeks recuperating in Arkham after Jason had repeatedly bashed Scarecrow’s head into a nearby car, screaming, “I died once, I’m not afraid of anything!” Later, when Dick heard the story, he burst out laughing.

Life routinely moved on afterwards. Jason slowly integrated back into the Bat-family, albeit with much caution and disgruntlement. A large part of that was because of your gentle urging.

Jason had met you in his apartment building. It was a modest building with modest apartments but just what Jason needed as an escape from his overbearing family. He was sure they all knew its whereabouts, but in an unusual stroke of kindness, let him have his solitude when need be. His apartment was mostly bare with just the essentials. It wasn’t long before that all changed and his definition of essentials expanded.

You came hurtling into his life like a comet.

Jason was returning home after a patrol one night, not caring who saw because it was only old Mrs. Arkady who was a blunt, half-blind bitch (but kept Jason fed as he reminded her of her grandson if the grandson was much taller and more buff) who lived on his floor.

You were handling a couple of large, empty boxes and a heavy garbage bag when you came face to face with Red Hood in full militia armour. Subsequently, you screamed. Mrs. Arkady came barrelling out into the hall, a rifle pointed at the ready, which caused you to scream again and drop the boxes and bag, which landed on your foot and you cursed loudly. Jason was quick to take off his helmet to assure you he was a normal man not going to hurt you, for secret identities weren’t at the forefront of his mind when an old lady held an AK-47 at him.

Somehow, a month later, this led to a date. (between you and him, not him and Mrs. Arkady.)

You were the best thing to happen to Jason, no doubt about it. You brought happiness into his life. Your apartment, so much brighter than his own, was full of knickknacks and sentimentality. He soon found himself woven into your life. Pictures of the two of you began appearing in both of your apartments, which turned into one apartment after the conclusion that paying for two leases while only utilising one house was idiotic. Jason moved to yours, no complaint on his end.

He felt a bit out of place in your life at first, a big brute with Red Hood armour metaphorically and literally in the closet. But Jason just adores you so much that his love outweighs his concern. It had made your relationship much easier that you knew he was Red Hood all along. There were no questions about why bruises bloomed randomly on his skin or why there was a gun hidden in the top cabinet.

Domesticity was Jason’s love language. There was something about the two of you sharing a space that made his heart flutter. He still took you on dates even when you lived together and nothing would ever change how he practically laid on top of you while sleeping even in the middle of summer (it got horribly frustrating and you tried to elbow him off but he was just so big).

You noticed little things like how his gruff voice softened just a touch whenever he talked to you. He liked to drink from one mug religiously and always had a spot under your jaw that he kissed.

There were arguments, sure, but mostly about his safety whenever he would come back with a patched up bullet wound Alfred had thankfully taken care of.

Coaxing him back towards his family had taken some time. There was so much history there, the majority of it bad, that made it hard for Jason to even consider it. He owed all of the reconciliation to you. The comment that won him over? “What if we ever have kids, Jay? I’d want them to know your family. And Bruce’s money would be helpful for all the baby toys…” He silenced your smirk with a firm kiss, chuckling against your lips.

A couple months after Jason had rejoined the Bat-family and their patrols, Scarecrow showed his face again. The villain had developed a new line of fear toxin that would penetrate the Bats’ immunity.

Jason, Dick, and Steph had been tasked with the fight and the combination of Dick and Steph’s humour made Jason ready to just get back to you and watch that TV show you were in the middle of. Unfortunately, the witty comments weren’t enough to stop the thorn that pierced Jason’s skin. It wasn’t long before he could feel the effects of the fear toxin laced on the thorn.

The rest of the fight didn’t take long and Jason was soon stumbling back to his apartment. He knew something was wrong the moment he stepped onto the floor. A trail of blood made his skin prick with terror as his eyes followed to the body of Mrs. Arkady, her rifle still by her side.

He cursed himself for freezing, those precious seconds already lost as his feet finally began pounding along the floor.

The lock was broken when he skidded to a stop in front of your apartment. “Y/n?” he breathed out before shouting your name again. His voice was hoarse by the time he finished ransacking the already destroyed apartment. All protocol about possible hostage situations or break-ins left his mind. He didn’t even take out his gun.

A strangled choke ripped from his mouth that turned into a wail. You were curled in bed, bloody sheets around you. “Y/n?” he pleaded. Slowly, he crouched down next to you.

“Jay?” you managed, though blood dribbled from your lips. There was too much blood surrounding you. No. He couldn’t lose you. He couldn’t. “Where were you?” you asked, reaching out a hand. Jason clutched it to his chest.

“It’s okay. You’ll be okay,” he insisted. “We can fix this. The hospital— or, or Alfred. Y/n, please,” he begged.

You coughed and your face twisted into agony as the movement disrupted the wound. “I don’t think…” You exhaled. “Jay, where were you?”

“Jay? Jason. Jason! Snap out of it!”

“I’m sure that’s real helpful, Dick,” a distinctly female voice that was not yours cut through the mud in Jason’s mind.

Jason promptly turned to his side and threw up. A chorus of ‘ew’ came from around him. “That’ll be the toxin exiting his body,” a man muttered, who Jason would know anywhere: Alfred.

The man blinked four times and slowly, the image of you bleeding out faded from behind his eyelids. “What?” he croaked out, turning onto his back. The faces of the Wayne family came into his line of sight. “Where’s Y/n?”

Dick was still in his Nightwing suit. “Scarecrow got you with some toxin. You were just… out of it,” he concluded.

Steph continued, “we had to bring you back to the Manor. You were screaming Y/n’s name the entire time. It was a battle, to say the least. You almost gave Dick a black eye.” The eldest of the Bat-family clicked his tongue dramatically.

“But it didn’t impact me last time.”

Alfred smiled knowingly at Jason. “Well, perhaps you have something now to fear, Master Todd,” he said.

“So she’s okay?” Jason forced himself to sit up and Alfred helped him up.

“We sent Damian to check,” Bruce said in a calming voice. “We knew you’d want to know. He reported that everything is fine and they’re watching a TV show.”

Jason frowned. “What TV show?”

Bruce hesitated and glanced at Steph, who shrugged. “Uh, I believe it’s called Parks and Recreation, though I don’t see why that’s pertinent—“

“That little shit!” Jason exclaimed. “We’re watching that! Damian has no right!”

“Jason, perhaps you should rest more,” Alfred cajoled.

The man huffed and was already moving towards the door. “Not when Parks and Rec is on the line.”

It was only fifteen minutes later when the door to your apartment banged open. “Hey, baby!” you greeted. Damian sat next to you, still in his Robin uniform, mask even still on. He had a blanket covering him and a bowl of popcorn in his lap. On the TV, Leslie Knope was talking to Ron Swanson.

Jason stammered out something before pointing to the TV. “You’re cheating on me!”

“Damian wanted to watch,” you countered. “He’s your brother. What am I supposed to do?”

“Not cheat on me!” Jason threw off pieces of his armour before squishing down between you and Damian on the couch. He gathered you into his arms and pouted, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Can’t believe you.” You laughed quietly and apologised with a kiss.

He’d tell you about the fear toxin later, but now? He just needed to hold you.

Jason Todd taglist: @phoenix666stuff @123-ignore-me

He would not be attempting to enter his name into the goblet, even though a small part of him thought it might be nice to be the Hogwarts Champion. Maybe if he won the whole thing, people would finally begin to look at him as something other than the Dark Lord’s son. But besides, he was far too cool to even think about entering.

Mattheo wasn’t looking forward to the challenges, the cancelled quidditch, the Yule Ball, and sharing the castle with all the other students. And if he had known what would happen at the end of the year, he wouldn’t be looking forward to it either.

Nevertheless, Mattheo was still a Hogwarts student and was forced to sit (albeit begrudgingly) at the opening ceremonies. He detested the uniform he was expected to wear. It made him look idiotic. The other two schools, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, were just arriving and it was causing quite a stir.

From beside him, Theo muttered something in Italian as the doors opened and the Beauxbatons students entered. Mattheo was too busy staring to pay any attention to his friend. After all, he was just a teenage boy like the rest of them.

Enzo’s mouth was hanging open and Blaise was trying to look uninterested, but his eyes followed the girls. Draco was getting a stern talking-to from Pansy, though even the Slytherin girls couldn’t deny the beauty of the Beauxbatons population. The rest of Hogwarts seemed just as entranced. The Weasley twins were practically panting and a Ravenclaw boy was even standing up, trying to get a better view.

Whether these people were Veela or not, they certainly had everyone transfixed. Perhaps it was their dance or the light magic that surrounded them that made them all irresistible.

Meanwhile, Mattheo’s dark eyes were fixated on one girl in the back. She was walking near the giant headmistress and not dancing like the other girls. Instead, she looked strangely at ease, like she knew she could command a room. It was certainly working – many eyes were drawn to her, not necessarily because of her beauty (though that was striking) but because of the aura of confidence around her. If it wasn’t obvious by her not dancing, it was clear from her knowing smile that she was the crown jewel of Beauxbatons.

You don't have to put on that red light… Walk the streets for money

Students parted for Mattheo, as they always did. Whenever he walked the halls, his glare fixed in front of him was enough to make people scurry out of the way. If it wasn’t for his parentage, it would be his green robes and scars. 

He was on his way back to the common room when he heard an unfamiliar voice call, “Riddle?” Mattheo would have bitten back with a snarky reply, but the sweetness of the voice made him pause. When he turned, he tried to mask the surprise that came over him.

You, still in your Beauxbatons uniform, introduced yourself. “I saw you at dinner today,” you said. “I had to ask around, but you are Mattheo Riddle, yes?”

He prayed you weren’t about to ask him about his dad. “Yeah,” Mattheo said. “What’s it to you?”

You shook your head and smiled at him. “I didn’t mean any offense. I just wanted to say hi and introduce myself. I have a feeling we’ll be seeing a lot of each other in the coming weeks.” You bid him goodnight and then turned, walking back to the school entrance where the Beauxbatons carriage was parked.

Mattheo couldn’t stop the hesitance that came over him. He had known one too many people who had pretended to be friends just to boast about their relationship with Voldemort’s son. Yet, he couldn’t help but want to believe you.

You don't care if it's wrong or if it is right. Roxanne!

Walking down the castle hall, you waved to Mattheo. He nodded back, still stoic (for he couldn’t be seen waving to a girl), but mentally counted up the number of times you had acknowledged him in public. Every time you smiled at him, he found his question of “why was this girl so determined to be friendly to me?” deflating just a bit more. By the end of the week, he was greeting you back with ‘hellos’ that made his friends tease him.

You don't have to wear that dress tonight. Roxanne!

You slid into the seat next to Mattheo. He was in the library, looking at some old muggle records the school had purchased for Muggle Studies. He would never admit it, but he liked some of the music. “Are you going to be putting your name in for the Tournament?” you asked.

“No, I don’t think so,” Mattheo replied. “Why are you here?” He was always quite blunt with his questions.

“Looking for you,” you said. “If you’re not entering your name, then I hope you don’t mind me asking to cheer for me if I get picked?”

Mattheo couldn’t help but smirk. He looked up from the record he was examining. “Are you asking me to forgo my school loyalty?”

You shrugged and rested your chin on your hand. “Aren’t we supposed to foster inter-school relations?”

The boy grunted. “Why are you even entering the Tournament?”

“Why aren’t you?”

Mattheo scoffed and shoved the record away. “I already have enough stress in my life, sweetheart. I don’t need more. I’m not gonna let myself be killed by some… dragon or whatever shit they’ll pull out.”

“Ah, it would be fun,” you said. “Who wouldn’t want to fight a dragon once in their life?”

“You have a death wish,” Mattheo declared. “The glory and riches aren’t enough for me, thank you very much.”

You reached out and brushed a hand against his forearm. He paused and looked over at you. “So does this mean you won’t be cheering for me?”

“If you end up getting chosen,” Mattheo found himself saying, “then yeah, princess. I’ll cheer for you.”

You don't have to sell your body to the night

Mattheo met your eye across the Great Hall when Fleur Delacour’s name was chosen instead. You simply gave him a shrug and a small smile. That night, he found you wandering the halls of Hogwarts. “It seems pretty dreary here,” you commented. “It’s much… lighter at Beauxbatons. More windows and whatnot.”

“Are you going to be staying for the Tournament?” Mattheo asked instead. He knew that some Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students, those who hadn’t been chosen, were planning on returning to their schools to finish the school year.

You nodded. “Yes, I want to see what the events are. Madame Maxime also ‘highly encouraged’ us to stay to support Fleur,” you laughed at the thinly veiled threat from your headmistress.

“She’s part Veela, yes?”

You raised a brow and looked over at him. “And here I thought you didn’t care about lineage?”

Mattheo smirked. “Is that jealousy I hear, princess?”

You nudged your shoulder with his, laughing. “Oh, you should know me better than that, Mattheo. I’m hurt you think so little of me.” You could hear a portrait loudly whispering about the two of you as you turned the corner.

“For the record, I was just making conversation,” Mattheo told you after a moment. He tucked his hands into his pockets.

You glanced over at him, taking in his dark hair that gave him an effortlessly handsome look. It was incredibly annoying. “I know,” you say.

He tried to avoid the way your staring made him feel oddly exposed. “Let me walk you back to the carriage,” he offered. Mattheo cleared his throat and gestured to the front lawns where the Beauxbatons carriage sat majestically. After a moment, he asked, “so does that mean you’ll also be staying for the Yule Ball?” Salazar, where was the heir of the Riddle house? Why was he suddenly feeling like a weak teenage boy who didn’t know his ups from his downs?

“Of course,” you exclaim. “I’ve already got my dress picked out and my friends and I are going to spend the day getting ready together.” You couldn’t help but look over at him once again. “Are you going?”

Just ask her. It’s clear she likes you. “Uh, yeah.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I am.”

You got to the carriage and you paused in front of the door. When it was clear he wasn’t going to continue, you said, “goodnight, Mattheo.”

“Night, Y/n.”

His eyes upon your face… His hand upon your hand

The next day, you, the crown jewel of Beauxbatons, got asked to the Yule Ball by none other than Cedric Diggory. He was a very nice boy and seemed so sincere. Unfortunately, he didn’t realise the awkward position he put you in by asking you right in the main entrance hall of Hogwarts where everyone saw. When you said yes, it felt more like a sentencing than an acceptance.

His lips caress your skin… It's more than I can stand!

Mattheo had been pacing the dormitory room for a good quarter of an hour. His jaw was tense and his back was rigid. His hands clenched and unclenched into fists routinely and he looked more livid than when Blaise had broken his lighter. For once, he looked every bit the son of the Dark Lord.

From where they were sitting on their respective beds, Enzo muttered, “I’m expecting a Dementor to come screaming out of him any second now.”

“You’ve only known her for a couple of weeks,” Draco pointed out, tossing a Granny Smith apple up and down in the air.

“That doesn’t matter!” Mattheo practically snarled at his friend. “I don’t know, I just… like her.” He struggled to find the accurate words.

“You and half of Hogwarts,” Blaise said. 

Mattheo caught the apple Draco threw in the air and chucked it at the Zabini boy who batted it away with Quidditch reflexes. Ignoring Draco’s outcry, Mattheo continued, “I don’t fucking care. I know she likes me back. I know it.”

“There’s that Riddle arrogance,” Theo said.

“Shut it, Nott. But then she goes and says yes to Diggory. Diggory! That slimy, good-for-nothing, low excuse for a wizard–”

Draco interrupted the rant. “Diggory’s good-looking, mate.” Suddenly aware of all of the stares on him, Malfoy raised his hands up in the air. “I got eyes. Doesn’t mean I’m attracted to him or anything,” he grumbled.

“Are you still gonna go to the Ball?” Blaise asked, saving Draco any more shame.

Mattheo still looked pissed about it, but nodded. “Like I have a choice. I gotta make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.”

The rest of the Slytherin boys all shared a look. This was either going to end horribly or magnificently.

Why does my heart cry

To Mattheo, and probably everyone else at the Ball, you were the most gorgeous person there. He couldn’t stop staring as you danced with Diggory. Torn between awestruck for the way your dress hung from your body and furious for how Diggory had matched a boutonniere to your outfit, Mattheo stayed close to the outskirts of the room. 

Draco had commanded the dorm room that morning, instructing all of his friends through the motions of getting ready. He was barking out orders and shoving them around. It was difficult getting five teenage boys presentable for the Yule Ball and Mattheo had briefly wondered if this is what the girls dealt with daily. 

All of the preparation had paid off, however. All of the Slytherin boys looked their best. Mattheo’s curls were even more defined and he was dressed in a crisp black suit and dark green tie. Draco had batted the cigarette and lighter from his hands just before the dance started, squawking, “you don’t want to smell like filth, do you?” If it were any other year, he wouldn’t have left Draco boss him around like that, but this was a special occasion.

He just hoped he lived up to your expectations.

Feelings I can't fight

It was too much. Diggory had leaned in during a slow dance and you had smiled at him. Mattheo couldn’t take it anymore. He couldn't take seeing another man touch you and hold you like he should be doing; if only he hadn’t been too much of a coward.

He pushed past Theo, ignoring the protests of his friends. He needed to get outside. Mattheo could feel his chest tightening up and his eyes burning. Salazar, was he really going to be reduced to a snivelling mess just because of a girl?

Mattheo sucked in the night air, the coolness hitting his lungs as a needed respite. Automatically, his hands went to his pockets and he dug out his pack of cigarettes and lighter. The cigarette hung from his lips and his fingers fumbled with the lighter for much longer than necessary. “Get a grip, Riddle,” he hissed to himself.

“You didn’t seem like the type of person to talk to themself,” a familiar voice came from beside him.

“For fuck’s sake, don’t do that,” Mattheo huffed. His chest was still rising and falling with the emotion of the night and it only worsened with the surprise of seeing you. You looked even more stunning up close. “And I’m not.” You weren’t smiling at him the way you did Diggory. The thought rooted itself in Mattheo and dug its claws in.

“Are you okay?” The claws in his heart loosened ever so slightly.

You're free to leave me

Mattheo stood there for a moment, his jaw working. “Am I okay?” he repeated with a scoff. He looked down at his polished shoes and kicked a loose stone. “Look, I get it,” he suddenly snapped. “You don’t want to be with the son of Voldemort. Too much baggage to help carry or whatever.” His shoulders were tense and it was clear he was getting confrontational even though you hadn’t started any argument.

“Always the fucked up kid, you know?” he continued. “I’ve never–” he cleared his throat, “I’ve never had a crush or any of that shit. I was never even really told about them or a name for the feelings.” He shoved the unlit cigarette back into the package. “I don’t get why you said yes to Diggory of all people,” he spat.

But just don't deceive me

“I thought we... I thought you liked me.”

And please

Mattheo swallowed thickly and finally looked over at you. Your smile was soft and kind, not pitiful or sarcastic. He wasn’t used to seeing such smiles. “I do like you,” you correct him quietly. “Cedric just beat you to the punch. I wasn’t sure if you wanted to ask me. So…” You shifted your weight back and forth on the balls of your feet. “Do you want to dance?”

“More than anything.”